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Rory scrambles, digging her fingers around the metal box frantically, totally ruining her manicure. Her days of free manicures are probably over now that she and Raine are no longer together. And why I think of that at this moment defies all logic.
“Ror…”
“Maybe it fell out,” she says, breathless.
“Of a latched file box?” I shake my head. “It’s no use.”
“It has to be here. No one knew we were here. Not even Carmen and the others.”
“It’s possible someone saw us bury the box.” Though I don’t believe my own words.
“No way. We were really careful, and Jordan was the lookout.”
Jordan.
I don’t want to think about my own cousin betraying us, but she’s the only one who knew where we were and what we were doing that night.
“I wonder…”
“What?” Rory asks.
I don’t respond right away.
“Callie, for fuck’s sake. Don’t keep anything from me now.”
“Do you think Pat got to Jordan?”
Rory stops digging with her fingers. “I didn’t think that until this very second.”
“How would he know?” I ask. “That she was with us that night? That we were anywhere that night? We were careful.”
This time it’s Rory who doesn’t reply.
“I suppose someone could have seen us, but Jordan…”
“She doesn’t have eyes in the back of her head,” Rory says dryly. “We should have brought someone else that night.”
“Stop with the ‘should have’ game. It doesn’t matter anyway. Forward, right? We deal with the situation as it is now. It’s not like we have a choice anyway.”
Rory says nothing. Simply nods.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say. “The key’s not here. It didn’t escape a latched box.”
“We should have locked the box,” Rory says.
“Then whoever took the key would have just taken the whole box and sawed it open later. Didn’t I just say to stop the ‘should have’ game?”
“Shut up, Callie. I get so sick of your sanctimoniousness sometimes.”
“Sanctimoniousness? Just because I say we need to deal with the here and now and not the past, which, Rory, we can’t change, so why bitch about it?”
She says nothing.
How can she? I’m right, and we both know it.
I begin filling the hole with the dirt we dislodged, and Rory relents and helps me. We don’t speak as I take the box and Rory takes our two shovels back to the car.
We don’t speak as I click open the trunk and we throw the shovels and box inside.
We don’t speak as we drive home.
It’s nearing ten o’clock, so both Rory and I drop our jaws when we walk into the house and see our mother in the family room reading.
She looks up, and her eyes widen. “Where have you two been?”
“In town. Having a drink,” I say quickly.
“And did an avalanche of dirt fall onto you?” Mom asks.
Rory and I meet each other’s gaze. Then I look down at my hands. My manicured nails are ruined just as badly as my sister’s are. Dirt is lodged underneath them. My clothes are filthy as well. Rory doesn’t look much better. In fact, her hands look worse from scrambling in the dirt to try to find the nonexistent key.
I’m usually good at coming up with an explanation on the spur of the moment.
In fact, so sure am I of my ability to do so, that I open my mouth, thinking the words will come.
They don’t.
It’s Rory who saves the evening.
“We’re a mess, I know,” she says. “We were at my place—well, Raine’s place—to pick up some conditioner from the stock—and we heard this squeaking in the alley behind the salon. It was a rabbit. The poor thing had gotten its leg stuck in an old drainpipe. It took both Callie and me to get it out. The little thing wasn’t exactly cooperative.”
Mom’s eyes widen. “It could have bitten you! What were you thinking?”
“We were careful,” Rory continues. “That’s why it took both of us. And we didn’t get bitten.”
“Is the rabbit okay? Was it hurt?”
“It hopped away,” I say. “In fact, it couldn’t get away fast enough. So it’s okay. Or it’ll be okay after it lies low for a few days. We just couldn’t bear its squealing. We had to help it, Mom.”
“Of course you did. You girls always did both love animals. I suggest you both shower before you go to bed. I changed all the sheets today.”
“Yeah, of course,” Rory mumbles.
“We’re adults, Mom. We know to shower when we get dirty.”
Mom smiles. “I know that. But a mother is always a mother. You’ll both find that out someday.”
“Good night,” Rory and I say nearly in unison.
We head down the hallway to our respective rooms, but Rory comes into mine first. “I hate it when she does that.”
“Does what?”
“Says I know what it’ll be like to have kids. She knows damned well I may end up with a woman.”
“And on what planet does that mean you can’t have kids?”
