A Sister's Secret

We all have secrets.

Secrets are so much fun. A secret admirer or a secret meet-up. Secrets are thrilling to keep and pleasurably sinful to give away.

Of course, unless you are part of the secret and no one should find out.

I would have preferred to bear this burden alone because I would never tell anyone, but now I have a comrade.

Inside the car, it’s safe from the cold, and Lauren is walking up and down to each paddock to quickly check hooves and feed the horses.

In the distance, the barn looms solemnly amongst the mist like a gravestone.

The final resting place of Dallas Phillips—the secret I share with my sister.

Sharing is also a fun thing, but sharing a secret like this is risky. My poor sister is my comrade in our secret, and she has not been handling it well.

Lauren feeds the last horse and marches towards the car. As she opens the door, the heat escapes and the cold bites me as it quickly creeps in.

“Is Stardust eating?”

“Yes, she looks better. Hopefully, she will gain some bulk after this feed switch.”

“Good.”

We drive in silence.

Lauren has lost weight.

On the other hand, I have gained some weight, and my hair has started falling out. Dark circles have started to hollow out under my eyes.

Slowly but surely, pieces of us are dying with Dallas.

Each of us has taken the guilt and grief differently.

Driving across the barren landscape of winter is not helping.

When we get to the house, we get out, but I slowly wander to the veggie patch.

It’s covered in a blanket of snow, but I try to dream of what we can do in the future.

Admittedly, we let the whole garden die after Dallas died.

We killed our ranch hand.

A few months ago, in the dreamy caress of autumn, Lauren came to the farm to help out.

That is when it happened.

I hired Dallas to help out on the ranch and, unfortunately, fell victim to his charms.

First, it happened in the barn. Then my bedroom. Then his bedroom.

But for the sake of modesty, we slept separately and tried to focus on the ranch.

Lauren came to help, and we pretended we were nothing.

We all had dinner together and got along, but he did to her what he did to me.

I kick some snow from the ground, recalling the shock.

Sisters share. It is not a big deal, but sharing men is a bit different, especially if neither sister knows the other knows.

One random afternoon, those cursed couple of months ago, as the leaves turned red, it happened.

I was out in the paddock with the horses all morning but needed a thermometer when one of the horses looked ill.

I walked in on them.

We were all embarrassed, of course, in those first two seconds, but then I said instinctively, “You asshole.”

I looked at him, and then Lauren realised she had not been the only one.

Hurt, disgusted, and ashamed, Lauren got out of the bed, pulling her nightgown tighter.

“Wait! Please, Lauren!”

Her lip quivered as she ran past me and out the door.

I stopped him dead in his tracks.

“How could you?”

“Angela, I am so sorry…”

His words felt hollow—rehearsed, like he could worm himself out of the situation.

I lost it.

I shouted at him. Asked him if he thought we were toys.

Looking back now, I feel so stupid.

I was his employer. I was emotional in a situation I should have never been in in the first place.

I can’t remember what I said to him, but I remember what he said to me just before I pushed him down the stairs.

“You’re a slut just like her—”

He barely finished his sentence before he was already at the bottom of the stairs.

I was heaving with rage, but then I started panting, out of breath, when I realised he was not moving.

Lauren came out of the dark corner where she was hiding to avoid conflict, like she always did.

She witnessed, in horror, what her responsible older sister had done.

I will never forget how she looked at me, and I will never forgive myself.

Pawing the snow with my boot, I wonder what needs to be forgiven.

The fact that I killed him?

Or the fact that I hurt her?

Winter has taken all the colour from the landscape, but it has also taken all the colour from me.

The once-frugal veggie patch was long dead before winter came.

I look towards the house and see the kitchen light on.

She is making dinner.

She pushes through every day. Stands up every day and pretends.

This has to end.

I have to end this.

I take out my phone and get the Sheriff’s number.

The green call button waits for me to push it.

I should maybe talk to her first.

The kitchen was the last place in this house that felt like it had life.

In our insanity and despair, we painted the kitchen cupboards light yellow to try and cheer it up.

The other ridiculous thing we did was turn away anyone who wanted to work here.

Of course, the workload did not get less, but we refused to let anyone get close.

With the onions browning in the pan, my heart melts, knowing this will be our last dinner together.

I sit down at the small dinner table and stroke the checkered tablecloth.

It makes me think of the checkered flannel Dallas always wore.

“I have decided that I am going to turn myself in…”

She stands still in front of the stove.

It feels stupid enough as it is, but I continue.

“For the murder of Dallas.”

She turns around, looking sour.

“You can’t leave me.”

“Actually, you just came to help out… Lauren, what are we doing? We are…”

I sit back, trying to find the words.

“We are living a big lie.”

She stays quiet and stirs the onions.

“How long can we live like this, Lauren? We are not okay—you clearly are not okay.”

She leans onto the counter and removes the pan from the heat.

She shakes her head.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she says weakly.

“Yes, it was an accident. It was manslaughter, but I need to face this.”

Her face crumples up like she ate a lemon.

“I need to tell you something… I knew he was sleeping with you, and I slept with him anyway…”

I feel about those words the way I felt about his words.

I hear the kitchen clock tick as I just stare at her in disbelief, and she looks at the kitchen floor.

The clock sounds so loud.

The yellow of the kitchen cupboards reaches my retinas before my brain can process it, and I start laughing.

The laugh dies out after a few ticks of the kitchen clock.

“Wow.”

It’s all I can say.

“Are you going to give yourself in?”

I laugh again.

“Of course not! I have nothing to feel guilty about—to think I wanted to protect you, to defend you, and you betrayed me.”

I shake my head at the yellow cupboards.

“Is that why you have been feeling guilty? Left the room so quickly?”

She stands in the corner alone with her head down.

All this time, I thought she felt as betrayed as I was.

She puts her hand to her face in shame and rubs her brow.

“The unfortunate good news, Lauren, is that I won’t be leaving, but you will. I want you out of this house tomorrow.”

Her eyes widen as she stares back at me.

“You can’t do this to me. I have nowhere to go.”

All the annoyance in the world pours into me.

“You came here to help out with the ranch, but you had nowhere to go. You knew I was with Dallas, but you took him from me. These last few months have been HORRIBLE! I don’t blame myself anymore. I blame YOU! You just take whatever you want and worm yourself in everywhere!”

She shakes her head, unable to process the words.

I sigh and get up.

I go outside into the fresh, cold air to clear my mind.

Standing in front of the dead veggie patch, I now feel a weight lifted off my chest, but also a whole in my heart.

It was a darn good thing I told her I wanted to give myself in before I made the call.

After a while, it gets too cold outside.

At the dinner table, we eat in silence.

“I am going to stay, OR I will call the police…”

My mouth runs dry as the words leave her poisoned lips.

“We both buried that body. You are just as guilty as me. An accessory to murder,” I try to say calmly.

“No. A witness to manslaughter.”

I scoff in disgust.

“I will not stay under this roof with you. I will not be threatened.”

“I am staying.”

She puts her hand on her knife.

Instinctively, I do the same.

We stare each other down for a moment.

Which of us moved first was hard to tell.

It is simultaneous—or the other one faces the risk of losing.

Spring comes again.

Stardust picks up weight.

The veggie patch is a cornucopia of variety: vegetables, herbs, and even strawberries.

The success of the veggie patch was thanks to a dead body.

It was a shame that one of the lucky sisters could not be in the arms of Dallas Phillips forever, but at least the veggie patch was thriving.

And now the secret was kept by only one sister, in guilty peace.