See Jane Die Part 70

They stared at each other a moment, then Jane laughed.

"What's so funny?" her sister asked, scowling.

"Big, bad Stacy and her Walton and Johnson."

"Funny." Stacy smiled. "You're lucky I didn't shoot you."

"Maybe you should try decaf, sis."

Stacy bent and retrieved the chopsticks. Jane saw that she was smiling. She waved them in front of

Jane's nose. "And what were you planning to do with these?"

"Stuff my face, actually."

"Want some company?"

"Only if there's enough to share."

"Hog."

It was said without malice and Jane laughed and crossed to the refrigerator. She opened it and found the

take-out cartons. Together they reheated the food, then carried it all to the coffee table in the living room.

Jane released Ranger, who charged in, obviously ecstatic to have been invited to the party.

They ate out of the cartons, pa.s.sing them back and forth. As they munched, they commented on the food, the weather, the dog, both studiously avoiding the subjects foremost in both their minds.

Ted. His murder. The things Stacy had told her about his feelings.

The way Jane had responded to those things.

Finally, every last morsel consumed, fortunes read and laughed over, Jane met her sister's gaze evenly.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?"

"For earlier. For shooting the messenger."

"It's okay, Jane. I understand."

Jane lowered her gaze a moment, then returned it to her sister's. She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, too.

For messing up our lives."

"You messed up our lives?"

"Hot-d.o.g.g.i.ng that day at the lake. Swimming past where it was safe. For being such a show-off."

Stacy shook her head. "Jane, I dared you to do it. My friends dared you. The only reason you were even

there was because we skipped school."

"It was my choice."

"I was the big sister. I was supposed to look out for you. Be a role model for you. Instead..." She

pressed her lips together as if overcome with emotion. "You almost died, Jane. And your face-"

She bit the words back; Jane reached across the table and lightly touched her hand. "It wasn't your fault.

I never blamed you, Stacy. Never."

Stacy's eyes flooded with tears. "I blamed myself. Mom and Dad blamed me."

"They didn't. Yes, they were angry. But at us both."

"Angry at you? Hardly." She laughed, the sound brittle. "They were never angry at you again."

"That's not true."

"No?"

"After that day, they always treated you with kid gloves. Never yelled. Never dealt out harsh punishments the way they did to me." Jane thought back, wondering if her sister was, to some degree, right. Her mother had reprimanded, her father scolded. They had occasionally suspended her phone or television privileges. Sent her to her room.

It had all amounted to little more than a slap on the hand.

Stacy interrupted her thoughts. "I heard them one night. Arguing. Mom crying. You had just been through

another surgery. You were in a lot of pain. Had gotten an infection.

"He was furious. At my irresponsibility. He called me her daughter." She paused, as if struggling with a painful memory. "He wondered if I had done it on purpose. Because I was jealous of you."

Her sister's words cut like a knife. Because Jane knew they weren't a true representation of her parents'

feelings. They had been frightened. For her. Their future. They had been grieving.

She told her sister so.

For a long moment, Stacy was silent. When she spoke, her voice shook. "The problem is, he was

partially right. I was jealous. Before the accident. And after."

"Jealous of me? But why?"

"How can you ask that? I wanted to belong to Dad. Really belong. I used to lie in bed and wonder, why

did my dad have to be the one who died? Why couldn't you have been the other daughter? You be the outsider, not me."

"You were never an outsider," Jane said, hurting for her sister. "Not to me. Not to Dad."

"Easy for you to say."

"Dad loved you. He thought of you as his daughter." At her sister's disbelieving expression, Jane found her hand and held it tightly. "He did. He looked at you with such love. Such pride. When you graduated from the academy, I thought he was going to burst, he was so proud."

Stacy's eyes filled. She curled her fingers around Jane's. "I loved him so much. And after the accident..."

She didn't finish and Jane recalled how they had begun this discussion. "What about after the accident?"

Stacy freed her hand, stood and crossed to the windows that faced Commerce Street. "Truthfully? I was

even more jealous of you. I had no right to be, I know that. And I feel awful about it."

"Jealous of me? My G.o.d, Stacy...I was so ugly. And my life was so...awful. I wouldn't have wished it on anyone."

"That's just it, don't you see? It was all about you. Everything was always about you. From that point on.

"n.o.body had time for me. Not even for small things. Help with homework. Advice about school, a friend

or boyfriend. Not an outsider? Give me a break! If I hadn't been before, the accident clinched it."

Jane stood, stunned. "I didn't know you felt that way."

She swung to face her, cheeks bright with color. "Of course you didn't. n.o.body did. Our lives revolved

around you, your health. Your mood. Your future. The surgeries. The bills from them.