Chapter 69. Anna
Anna
I’m so used to watching, lurking, listening … but here I am, trying to be part of life again. After all this time, I get another chance to be connected and authentic, if I can figure out where to start.
I spent years keeping an eye on Holly and my mom. But I always stayed a safe distance away. I braved going to one book talk, but Holly seemed to notice me in the small gathering, and I took off, worried that my dyed hair and hood might not have disguised me well enough.
Life was really rough then. I was practically homeless, floating from one place to the next, living off a small sum my mother transferred to me every month.
I squandered most of it on alcohol and drugs.
Anything that would dull the pain, help me forget.
I wasn’t going to burden Holly with all that.
Not when she seemed to have moved on, become so successful.
I would only have brought her down. Just like I did my mother …
Carol’s decline was my fault. The stress of everything I put her through caused her to break.
We were going to tell my sister everything, but when my mother started failing, I couldn’t make the choice on my own.
The longer I waited, the more impossible it seemed.
Holly was starting to heal. Who was I to needle that wound?
After countless lonely years on the run, I hit rock bottom.
It was pure luck that my junkie buddy carried Narcan.
My mother didn’t sacrifice everything just to have her daughter OD on the street.
I’d had enough. The blackouts, the bad relationships—if you can call fucking your dealer a relationship …
I got cleaned up, got myself to AA, NA, every meeting I could.
Eventually I took classes, became a certified nursing assistant. That was the best choice I ever made.
I got a job at the memory care facility where Mom lived.
Some days, I know she recognized me. I’d sit with her, stroke her hair, tell her stories like Holly used to do for me when we were young.
I was the older sister, but Holly was the storyteller, and her stories soothed me during the ups and downs of childhood.
I hoped it did the same for my mom in her last months.
I kept an eye on Holly after Mom died. I knew she was hurting, but she had been for so long. I hoped she would finally move forward, without the burden of my mother’s illness and the constant reminders of the past.
But then Holly moved to Beauport, and I knew the danger she was putting herself in.
I did my best, watching from a distance, making sure she didn’t do anything that would put her in jeopardy.
And then the girl arrived … my Jade. When I saw the necklace she carried with her everywhere, all the shops she took it to, trying to get it repaired, I knew.
I knew the way only a mother knows. And I had to watch over them both.
Now here I sit, with Holly at Crescent Beach.
The waves dance on the shoreline, the seagulls caw in the distance.
We’re sitting up, our legs stretched out on beach towels, a cooler between us, just like when we were kids.
But we aren’t eating, drinking, or even talking … Neither of us knows where to begin.
I glance at my beautiful sister. So many things have changed.
Holly has creases around her eyes, same as I do.
My hair is still auburn, but I muted the color with cheap dye from a pharmacy so I wouldn’t stand out.
I’m not the skinny, gangly girl of my youth.
I’ve filled out in my forties, softer curves covering what was once a bony frame.
Middle age seems to suit Holly. She’s poised, even sitting here on a beach blanket.
She carries herself with a confidence and wisdom that only time and experience provide.
The sun is strong, tanning my arms. Maybe it will hide the old track marks, but it will never cover my shame. If Holly has noticed them, she’s kind enough not to ask.
What do I tell her? I guess that’s what I hope to figure out today. We’re sitting in a comfortable silence, letting the waves provide the soundtrack to our day.
It’s Holly who speaks first.
“If I remember correctly, the last time we were together on this beach, Conrad invited us for an ice cream.”
I surprise myself, laughing out loud at the memory, at how innocent I’d been that day.
It’s a wry laugh, but Holly brightens. She understands that our lives would have been completely different if we had picked another beach or gone at another time.
She touches my arm as if she can’t believe that I’m real.
“He did invite us to have an ice cream, didn’t he?” I say. My memory of that day is vague, but so many others are painfully clear. The things I did to myself after I left Beauport. How can I ever be whole?
But each minute I spend with Holly takes me farther from my past: the men I knew, the streets, the bars, the addicts I ran with, the highs I chased.
These all slowly evaporate as I embrace my new reality.
I’m not that person anymore—sleeping in cars, doing things for a fix that make me feel filthy inside and out: unclean, unworthy, unlovable.
Poor Conrad. He didn’t understand why I couldn’t talk to him—and it’s not because his mother wanted me dead. It’s because he wants so much from me. He’s trying to connect, to process all that’s happened. But how can I give him anything when I’ve already given so much of myself away?
“Do you remember that Ned was working the Dairy Dip that day?” I remind Holly.
“Yeah, I do in fact. And I can’t believe I didn’t recognize that the busker was that weird kid from the ice-cream shop. And he’s Sid’s son? Crazy. Beauport really is a small town.” Holly shakes her head.
“He was always a little creepy, but he saved me twice, you know.”
Holly removes her sunglasses, squinting in confusion. “What do you mean? More than spotting the generator?”
I steady myself. I guess this is it. No more secrets. No more lies.
“When he wasn’t at the Dairy Dip, Ned picked up odd jobs at the Carmichaels’—usually landscaping, gardening, that sort of thing,” I begin. “He was on the grounds the day that Maeve called the cops on me about the diamond earrings that Krystal stole.”
“Oh yeah, Krystal,” Holly said. “Remember when she wanted to live with us because she got kicked out of her apartment for not paying rent?”
I turn my head away. Hearing her name sends a searing pain through me. But I center myself.
“Tom Walker showed up, took me aside—wanted to talk it over, he said, but he brought me to a secluded spot on the property to conduct his interview … I should have known better. Ned didn’t trust the cops—didn’t trust anybody who had authority—and I guess he followed us.
When he came out of the bushes, Walker had his pants unbuttoned, and—well, you can imagine what he wanted in exchange for the charges being dropped. ”
Tears spill down my cheeks. It was so long ago, but telling the story out loud brings all the fear and shame back like it happened yesterday.
Holly looks at me with such compassion I could crack. I deserve nothing from her for what I’ve done.
“Ned saved me. It’s that simple. He begged me to report Walker.
He was obsessed with the idea of corruption in law enforcement, and this was a chance to call it out.
But I couldn’t tell anyone. Not you, not Mom or Conrad.
It was too much. Ned didn’t understand why I stayed silent.
He knew that the Beauport PD was protecting Walker, blue covering for blue, and he wanted the truth to come to light.
Just like with Conrad. He knew Conrad was lying to me, and he outed him. ”
Holly again appeared confused. “What do you mean?” she asked.
So many layers to peel away … How Holly will react, I can’t venture to guess.
“Conrad was lying to me from the start. Ned told me so because he had a crush on me and hoped we’d break up.”
“What did he say?”
“The night of Conrad’s engagement party, when we met, Conrad wasn’t just engaged to Elizabeth Ward—he was already married to her.”
Holly gasps. I can’t blame her. I’ve sat with that betrayal for years, and it still feels fresh.
“I guess Ned got the inside scoop on the secret wedding from his father, Sidney. The Barefoot Beach Ball engagement party, all that wedding planning? It was just for show. The paperwork had already been signed. It was a done deal. Some financial arrangement between the families. And I found that out the same day I went to see Dr. Hill about my other problem.”
I keep it vague. Jade deserves to know the details of her story before anyone else. I owe her that. Thankfully we’re sisters. Holly gets me. Instinctively, she doesn’t press for more.
“I don’t blame Conrad for getting married,” I continue.
“Maeve was a force of nature. And apparently the pressure was on because they were broke. Ned told me everything. Her first husband, Geoffrey, was a gambler who left the Carmichaels house-poor. Their life was an illusion—ritzy on the outside, shambles within.”
“Just like Miramar itself,” Holly says.
“Elizabeth was the ticket out. She was Conrad’s high school sweetheart with a big bank account, daddy issues, and a whole lotta insecurity.
Maeve preyed on her. Everything was transactional with her.
She could deliver Conrad to Elizabeth, and in exchange, Elizabeth would keep the family afloat.
Maeve made her pitch. Conrad didn’t stand a chance.
Some sons have no power when it comes to their mothers, even with a prenup like the one he signed.
No Elizabeth, no money. The mortgage wouldn’t wait for a wedding.
So they had a quiet civil service—with Maeve’s ‘blessing,’ of course. ”
“Then you came along,” Holly says.
“Yeah, love at first sight,” I say sarcastically. “Great until someone wants you dead.”
“I still don’t understand what happened that night,” Holly says, her voice cracking. “I saw your body—I saw you being wheeled away on a gurney with a sheet over your head.”
“You saw what I needed everyone to see.”
Images from that night at the guesthouse hit me hard and fast. I can’t tell her more yet. The tears resurface, overwhelming me. The number of people I’ve hurt, all to save myself, is staggering.
I see Holly crying, too. Tentatively, I place an arm over her shoulders.
“I’m so, so sorry,” I manage to whisper.
“Me too,” she chokes out through her sobs.
“You? What could you possibly be sorry for?”
“It’s my fault,” says Holly, biting her lip, but she can’t stop crying. She takes off her sunglasses to wipe her eyes. “I should have been with you that night like you asked. If I’d only shown up when I said I would, none of this would have happened.”
“No—no, you can’t blame yourself. Believe me when I say the best thing that happened that night is that you didn’t show up.
Your whole world would have been different if you had.
I’m not exaggerating when I say it might have been over.
If I could take it back, I would, but you have to understand, Holly.
I hated myself for what I had to do to escape. ”
Holly looks me in the eyes. Hers are red, filled with tears. “I don’t judge you—I don’t hate you. I just…” She can’t get the words out. Her chest is heaving. Every breath is a struggle. But she pushes through the discomfort to find her voice. “I just need my big sister again.”
And that does it. My dam breaks. Tears streak down my face. I wrap my arms around her, holding on like I’ll never let go, a single word tumbling through my head: home. This is home … this is my place … with her … my family. My precious sister.
“Will you forgive me? Please, please forgive me.” My throat closes up. I barely get out the words.
“Only if you’ll forgive me,” she says.
And there we are, with our feet in the sand, clutching each other and crying as if it’s a final goodbye.
Eventually we break apart and walk toward the shoreline. I understand something now that I didn’t before. It wasn’t Holly I needed forgiveness from—I needed it from myself. I believe she feels the same. And now we’ve given each other permission to do just that.
“I have something for you,” Holly says, reaching into her pocket. She takes my hand, placing my long-lost claddagh ring into my palm. The gold glints in the sunshine.
“I never thought I’d see this again.” My voice catches as I slide the warm metal onto my ring finger. I can’t believe it still fits—and feels like it belongs—just as it always did.
Holly smiles as we both wipe tears from our sun-kissed cheeks.
It’s a perfect afternoon. The summer sun grips the sky as if it will never let go. A scattering of sailboats dots the horizon, moving swiftly thanks to a steady, warm, and pleasing breeze.
“What now?” I ask.
“I want to finish my story,” she says. “Will you help me?”
I squeeze her hand. My love for her feels eternal. “Of course I’ll help,” I say. “I’ll tell you everything.”