When We Were Sisters by Emilie Richards Read Free Book Online Page B

parents pause.
    I was all of nine, but the people in control believed it was enough at that moment that I was safe and well fed. After their own children left, Mr. and Mrs. Davis had welcomed more than a dozen children into their home. They were strict but fair, affectionate but not demanding, and they were happy to work with other professionals to provide the best for their kids.
    Cecilia had already lived with the Davises for four months before I arrived to take the place of an eleven-year-old girl who had wreaked havoc. Cecilia claims that no matter what was wrong with me—and in her estimation there was plenty—she saw right away that she could finally sleep with both eyes shut. If I was too scared to get up and use the bathroom at night, I was unlikely to murder her in her sleep.
    Cecilia isn’t prone to downplay anything in her life. In the retelling a casual date becomes a marriage proposal. Polite applause becomes a standing ovation. I’m one of the parts she doesn’t have to exaggerate. She saw something in me that convinced her I needed her. No one but Maribeth, her drugged-out mother, had ever needed her for anything.
    Cecilia looked at me and saw a project that might have a happy ending. That was enough.
    My grandmother had named me Roberta Ingrid after two maiden aunts who had raised and molded her into the woman I feared. Cecilia was the first to call me Robin. The day we met I was wearing a red sweater. With my pale brown hair and red breast she thought I looked exactly like one.
    When I turned eighteen I petitioned the court to make Robin official. By then Cecilia had been there first to remove Ceglinski.
    Kris claims I’ve always allowed Cecilia to make the important decisions in my life. If he knew how hard she lobbied me not to marry him, he might feel differently.
    I thought about that now as the house grew quiet and I heard Kris turning out the lights downstairs before he came to bed. Earlier Donny came back from town with enough takeout to last for several days and casseroles to carry next door tomorrow. My children devoured rotisserie chicken and sides. Kris finished a beer and picked at whatever was in reach, and the rest of us enjoyed vegan dishes from an Indian restaurant. Then, after sisterly advice on how to take care of myself for the next few days, Cecilia and Donny left to fly back to Arizona.
    I’m sure my husband is delighted they’re gone. Kris is always polite to Cecilia. Cecilia is always polite to Kris. Their pseudotolerance comes down to insecurity. Neither of them is sure who will win if I’m forced to choose.
    I was carefully smoothing a nightgown over my hips when Kris came into our bedroom. His wheat-colored hair was standing on end, as if he’d run his fingers through it repeatedly, and he looked exhausted, which was no surprise.
    â€œDid you tell Nik he could stay up and read?”
    I had expected something a little warmer, but I wasn’t surprised by his question. Even when Kris arrives home early enough to see his kids, he’s usually on his computer or the phone and they’re already asleep by the time he comes upstairs.
    â€œHe’s always allowed to read if it’s a real book and he’s in bed.”
    â€œI asked him what he was reading, and he said, and I quote, ‘A book. Can’t you tell?’”
    â€œHe jumped on the one Cecilia gave him tonight. He started reading the moment he got into bed.”
    â€œLet me guess. A rock star biography.”
    â€œBoy band. It’s a Horatio Alger story updated for the twenty-first century. Kids from a tough neighborhood who find their way out through talent and drive.”
    â€œWell, he needs sleep more than he needs fairy tales.”
    I didn’t remind him how close the book was to Cecilia’s life story. “I’m sure you made a hit if you called it a fairy tale.”
    â€œI’ve already had more conversations with our son today than