Her Sister's Keeper

FOR MELANIE, remaining in Dr. Mattson’s office meant returning to a place in time that she never wanted to revisit again, yet she knew instinctively that to silence the demons, she had to confront them. She also realized that alone, she was incapable of fighting that battle. As much as she wanted to walk out, she knew it would be a mistake. For six months she’d suffered.

Ever since her wedding day.

She remembered every detail as if it were yesterday. The original DiSanto gown, a slim, strapless shiver of satin and pearls. Stephanie helping her with the tiny buttons up the back. The sweet-spicy scent of the old-fashioned pink roses that made up her bridal bouquet. The deep, rhythmic rumble of the Pacific Ocean and the golden afternoon sunshine spilling through the tall Palladian windows while Ariel wove pearls into her hair….

It was perfect, until the tap came on the door and Janet, the wedding director, peered into the room. “It’s almost time. Two minutes until they start the wedding march. Victor’s waiting to walk you to the rose arbor. You look just beautiful, Melanie.”

Would she ever forget that moment? Stephanie had finished fastening the last button and had gone to gather up the bridesmaids, leaving her alone with Ariel, who had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the endless preparations. Ariel, her hands full of pearl hairpins, her face as pale as Melanie’s gown, her fingers trembling so badly that Melanie, noticing all of this for the first time, reached her own hand to close on her sister’s.

“Ari, for heaven’s sake, what is it? What’s wrong?”

Ariel pulled away from her, shaking her head, denying that anything was amiss, but something very definitely was. Melanie rose to her feet, concerned. “Are you ill? Please, Ari, tell me. What is it?”

Her sister’s blue eyes had filled with tears. “It’s nothing,” she said with such dramatic pathos that Melanie knew her sister thought her world was coming to an end.

“Ari, this isn’t the time for theatrics.” Melanie put her hands on her sister’s shoulders. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

The tears spilled over. “Oh, Mel, I’m pregnant,” Ariel blurted out around a choked sob. “I wasn’t going to tell you. I didn’t want to tell you!”

This was hardly the moment for Ariel to be breaking this news. In five minutes Melanie was supposed to be walking down the petal-strewn path to her wedding ceremony.

“I’m happy for you, Ari,” Melanie managed, hugging her sister. “Now stop crying. This isn’t the end of the world. You’re not the first unmarried woman on the planet to get pregnant.” Ariel began to weep in earnest and Melanie’s patience grew thin. The minutes were ticking down, and Mitch was waiting. “Ari, who’s the father? Does he know about this?”

Ariel buried her face in her hands and cried out in despair. “Oh, God, Mel, it’s so awful. I didn’t want to tell you.”

“I would have guessed sooner or later. It’s pretty hard to hide a pregnancy after a while, kiddo. Look, we’ll talk more about it at the reception, okay? It’s going to be all right, Ari,” Melanie said, stroking her sister’s hair back from her flushed face with genuine affection, because as much as Ariel could drive her crazy, Melanie wanted the best for her. “I’ll help you through this. Trust me. You’ll be a great mom.”

Ariel was not reassured. “I wasn’t going say anything, except for being pregnant. You’re my sister and I love you. I would never hurt you, Mel. Never.”

Melanie felt a twinge of unease. “Of course you wouldn’t. You’re not making any sense at all.”

Another tap at the door, and Janet looked in. “We’re waiting on you, Melanie.” She frowned. “Is everything all right?”

“Just give us a few more minutes,” Melanie said, and when the door closed she gripped Ariel’s shoulders and leveled her gaze. “Talk to me, Ari.”

Ariel shook her head again. “I’m three months pregnant. I was going to get an abortion. I went to the clinic and I…” Fresh tears brimmed over and Melanie released her to grab a nearby box of tissues. “I just couldn’t go through with it,” Ariel said, sniffling and dabbing at her eyes.

“That’s all right. Does the father know?” Melanie repeated.

Ariel gulped and nodded. “He said I was trying to trap him, that the baby wasn’t his, and then he dumped me.”

“Sounds to me like you didn’t lose much when you lost him,” Melanie said, hugging her sister again. “Paternity tests would prove he’s the father if you really want to go that route, but you certainly don’t need financial help raising a child, and you’re a whole lot better off without that kind of man in your life. Blow your nose and try to forget the jerk for a while. We have a wedding to attend, and you’re my maid of honor.”

“God forgive me, Melanie, I don’t deserve any honor at all, least of all that one.” Ariel fell to her knees, taking two handfuls of Melanie’s gown and pressing them to her tear-streaked face for a moment before looking up at her sister. Her words tumbled out in a rush. “I can’t forget the baby’s father because… because it’s Mitch. I wanted to tell you, but you seemed so happy, happier than I’ve ever seen you.

“I didn’t want to hurt you, I wasn’t going to say anything, but then…last night at the rehearsal dinner, I overheard him talking to one of his friends. He was saying…he was saying that he thought you were worth marrying because you’d be the one who could break him out of being a stunt man, and get him the acting roles he wanted. You were so close to Victor, he was sure you could make it happen. Before I got pregnant he was always after me to talk to Victor about getting him an acting role, but I never did because Mitch couldn’t act. He was awful. Oh, Mel, don’t you see? He used both of us the same way. You can’t marry him. He’s a no-good bastard!”

As her sister spoke, a chill swept through Melanie. Three months ago she and Mitch had fallen in love. Three months ago Mitch had been sleeping with Ariel… until he found out she was pregnant. “No,” she whispered.

“Oh, Mel. I’m so sorry.” Ariel rose to her feet and reached for her, but Melanie jerked away.

“No,” she repeated. “That can’t be true. Mitch loves me….”

Ariel shook her head, tears still streaming. “Mitch doesn’t love anyone but himself. I know you’ve heard the rumors. Believe them, Mel. He’s a womanizer, a user. He’s handsome and he’s daring, but he’s no good. Don’t marry him. Don’t let him hurt you the way he hurt me!”

Melanie turned away from her sister and found herself staring at her reflection, at her beautiful Ines DiSanto wedding dress.

She reached her hands to smooth the satin gown and lifted her chin, defiantly eyeing the woman in the mirror. She would not cry. She would never, ever cry. Let them stare and let them talk. Melanie Harris would hold on to her pride, if nothing else. “Let’s go,” she said to Ariel.

“Mel, please, let me tell Janet the wedding’s off,” Ariel begged, holding back. “She can talk to the wedding party, she can tell Mitch…”

“This wedding’s not off, baby sister,” Melanie said, reaching for Ariel’s hand. “We can’t disappoint all those guests, can we? Come on.”

With a cry of protest, Ariel was tugged along as Melanie exited the bedroom. Holding her gown up in one hand, she strode determinedly past an open¬ mouthed Janet, wide-eyed bridesmaids and a shocked Stephanie and Victor, and down the wide granite steps of Blackstone toward the rose arbor in the formal garden overlooking the Pacific.

The guests were standing as the quartet played the wedding march, waiting for her entrance. Their faces mirrored the pleasant anticipation of such moments— expressions that faltered when Melanie came into view, dragging a wildly sobbing Ariel behind her. The quartet stopped playing and lowered their instruments, as startled as the wedding guests, but Melanie only had eyes for the man waiting for her at the arbor.

Mitch Carson.

He watched their approach with amazing calm for a man who had to have sensed impending disaster. Ariel was wrong about him. He was a damn good actor.

“Here’s the woman you should be marrying, Mitch,” Melanie said with icy calm, thrusting her weeping sister forward. “For the life of me, I can’t quite imagine you as a doting father, but I understand you have six more months to prepare. I wish the two of you a very interesting relationship.”

She barely remembered leaving Victor’s estate and climbing into her car wearing the gown that had cost her nearly half a year’s salary as a location scout. She drove along the coastal highway, clutched in the depths of a nightmare she couldn’t escape. A nightmare that hadn’t passed in six long months. Six months of her sister’s hysterical phone messages imploring her forgiveness. Six months of Stephanie begging her to reconcile with Ariel. Begging her to get professional help. Six months of deteriorating job performance, sleepless nights and deepening depression.

And then the latest message from her sister on her answering machine, just one week ago. Ariel’s voice had been shrill, barely intelligible. Mitch was dead, killed on location during the filming of the latest Kellerman thriller. A routine stunt had somehow gone wrong and there was an explosion, a terrible fire. The police would be investigating, the whole thing was so suspicious.

Ariel was devastated, because she and Mitch had been trying to work things out. Apparently she had discovered something below the man’s shallow layer of womanizing self-indulgence. Something that had made Ariel believe he was ready to settle down with her and the baby.

The shock of Mitch’s death had no doubt triggered the birth. Melanie learned of the frantic rush to the hospital from Stephanie, who had driven Ariel and stayed with her for the birth. Stephanie, who only two days ago had begged her to attend the special dinner Vic and Tanyia were hosting to celebrate Ariel’s newborn baby girl.

“Please come, Mel,” Stephanie had pleaded. “It would mean so much to Ariel. She needs you right now. And the baby…your niece…is so beautiful. You have to see her.” Melanie hadn’t gone to the dinner, of course. No way in hell could she bring herself to do that…yet.

Suddenly, Melanie dropped her head into her hands. She was so terribly tired. This wasn’t like a movie set, where the director could call out, “Cut! Let’s try that again.” This was real life, and there were no second takes. Her life was a mess. She would never be able to forgive Ariel for her betrayal. She no longer liked her job, because as long as she worked for Victor, she was constantly reminded of her wedding day. She didn’t want to be in this place, this office. She disliked Dr. Mattson for making her relive this nightmare, disliked the muted beige tones of his office, designed, no doubt, to comfort, and she even resented Stephanie for getting her into this situation in the first place.

Melanie drew a shuddering breath, straightened in her chair and gazed about her with dismay. She glanced at her watch. Exactly ten minutes had passed since she’d taken a seat in Dr. Mattson’s office, and she hadn’t uttered a single word. He was sitting there patiently, waiting for her to spill her guts and cure herself, but she just couldn’t bring herself to tell the story to a stranger. No way she could ever confess to a three-month whirlwind romance with a renowned womanizer that her friends had all quietly warned her against. No way could she ever talk about her sister’s treachery, the same sister she’d worked so hard to protect and support after their parents had died.

She’d fulfilled her promise to Stephanie by coming here today, but she was done with it. She would pull herself together and keep her secrets buried in the past. If the past haunted her for the rest of her life, running from it was a price she deserved to pay. Fools deserved to suffer.

Dr. Mattson said nothing when Melanie rose and started for the door. She paused for a moment, as out of breath as if she’d just run a mile in soft beach sand.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized before leaving his office, fighting for control. “I guess I’m not ready for this, after all.”

Kent knew he should say something to stop his client from going out that door. Instead, he sat rooted in his chair, unable to move or speak as she swept out of his office, closing the door firmly behind her. He’d been glad that Melanie Harris had remained silent, allowing him to think about this morning’s murder…but by doing so he had failed his client miserably.

Kent leaned forward on his elbows and ran a hand through his hair with a weary sigh. This conflict of jobs was impossible. He’d just let a client leave without receiving any help from him whatsoever. He had to decide between his job with the police department and his growing affinity for a healthy bank account. A knock roused him, and his receptionist stood in the doorway. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Doctor, but Ms. Harris insists on paying before she leaves.”

“Tell her that’s not our policy. Get the insurance information from her and…”