Chapter 35
When we were growing up, I found an ally in Taylor. From the day she was born, I decided it would be her and I against the harsh world of the Carpenter dynasty. She needed that support, and often says I have always been there to take care of her.
But the truth is, I needed my sister too.
She came along, and all of a sudden, I wasn’t alone anymore. I had a person to share a look with when our parents became stuck in their ways. Someone that knew what I was thinking—and was thinking the same thing.
Or so I thought.
As I bore my stare into Taylor, more pointed and determined than ever before, she appears clueless to what I’m thinking.
Instead of reading my thoughts, she twirls her spaghetti around her fork and puts way too much food in her mouth. “So, Lucy,” she says through the oversized bite, “my brother tells me you’re secretive about the paintings you’re working on.”
“I did not say that,” I correct quickly.
She has been relentless, monopolizing the conversation through all of dinner. A dinner that was supposed to be just Lucy and me.
“My creative process is very fluid,” Lucy replies politely, a spark of amusement in her eyes as they flit over to me. “If I talk about something before it’s done, there’s no guarantee it’ll end up as I say anyway.”
“How do you know when a piece is done then?”
I wait, preparing to jump in and change this line of questioning. Preparing to protect Lucy from having to talk about her artist block.
But she doesn’t need me.
She tilts her head to the side, her bangs brushing over her eyes. “Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it? Sometimes I just have to trust that the piece will tell me that it’s ready.”
“I wish I had a talent like that,” Taylor mumbles, dropping her attention to her plate. “I wish I had any kind of passion like the two of you.”
“You’ll find your thing,” I say, softening the pinch in my brow. “Besides, what do you mean by the two of us? It’s not like my passion is working for Dad.”
“Really? You get along with him so well,” she snorts. “But I’m talking about that secretive thing you and Tad used to whisper about all the time. I don’t know what it was, but you would get so excited about it.”
I hesitate, thinking of late meetings over drinks. Just enough alcohol to turn a whim into something that felt possible. I probably was excited back then.
“Were you planning to create something?” Lucy guesses.
“Yeah.” I nod. “As a matter of fact, we planned to create a lot of things back then.”
With a swift stab of my fork, I collect the last bit of lettuce from my salad and deposit it in my mouth.
I crunch down on the crisp iceberg wedge and think about the notebook I filled with fleeting ideas that eventually took root.
They’re still there, having woven deeper into my being and settled patiently, waiting to grow.
“I think I might be passionate about helping animals. I really enjoy spending time at your family’s shelter. And today’s event was so fun.” The innocent hope in Taylor’s voice snaps me back to the present in an instant. I haven’t heard her talk like that maybe ever.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Lucy says with a supportive smile. “I heard this saying that keeps me going when I feel stuck—it takes ten thousand hours to master something. You’ll never log that time without starting.”
“What do you like about it?” I ask, genuinely curious and eager to see Taylor latching on to something.
“The animals,” she huffs as if it’s obvious.
I try not to react, giving her space to continue. And after another bite, she does. “I like being able to build trust with an animal that needs me, and seeing my work actually make a difference.”
“You’re a natural, honestly,” Lucy assures her. “Even with our more skeptical residents.”
Taylor swipes her last bite of garlic bread through the sauce remnants on her plate then pops it in her mouth.
She bobs her head, considering this new information.
“Can I increase my hours there? I could volunteer every day, maybe do some tasks someone would normally get paid for in a bigger shelter in the city. Not that I’m looking to get paid—”
“Come as often as you’d like.”
Satisfied, my sister rises from the table, collecting her empty dishes and carrying them over to the sink.
“Okay, I think I will.” Then with a hand on her hip, she flashes a dangerous smirk.
“But tonight, I’ve clearly overstayed my welcome.
Jake’s eye nearly started twitching halfway through dinner—with all that glaring he was doing. ”
To her credit, Lucy at least tries to cover up her amusement, lifting her wine glass to hide a smirk of her own. It doesn’t matter, I can still see it. And so can Taylor, who proudly shoots her a wink before flitting off to her bedroom.
Lucy can smirk as much as she wants, though, because we’re finally alone again.
“I can put on a pot of decaf,” I suggest. “Maybe we check the TV Guide for a movie?”
My breath catches in my chest, waiting. It’s late, she could say.
And it would be true. I don’t want to ask her to stay over, that might be moving too fast. It could scare her off.
And I don’t expect her to want to stay just because her dog is here now; I didn’t offer to foster him as a bargaining chip.
But maybe a late night could be alright.
To my relief, she bats those thick, dark lashes at me and says, “That sounds perfect.”
So, I do just that.
Our plates from dinner are piled in the sink, and the smell of coffee fills the air in no time as I thumb through the little booklet with a promise of a CHiPs Reunion printed across the cover.
“There is a good amount of Halloween themed options,” I note, glancing up. “Do you like scary?”
Lucy is stretched out across my sofa, her head propped up on the arm, and her legs draped across my lap. She’s perfectly relaxed with her arm dangling over the side to reach Bear in his spot on the floor beside her. The sight of her comfortable here, with me, makes my heart swell.
“How scary?” she asks.
“Chucky?”
Her nose crinkles. “Pass.”
“What about Beetlejuice?”
This time, her face lights up. “I love Beetlejuice.”
I flip to the right channel, then deposit the remote on the coffee table and curl my hands around her legs instead. The night isn’t even over, and I already know I want a million more—just like this.
Maybe I’ve found my passion after all.