Page 39 of Peppermint Bark

They stilled, cheeks flushed and chests panting, faces lit up with hesitant laughter as they gauged my reaction. After a final moment of deliberation …

I pointed at my sister. “You’re dead, Shrimp.”

“Only if you catch me!”

Grace was right: My sister really was childlike, zig-zagging between trees and yelling “Polo” to lure me into the chase while Grace yelled “Marco” to draw her out. Even the few people around the farm laughed at Mallory's antics.

When I glimpsed her pink hat and blonde ponytail, I lunged to grab her around the waist. She screeched as I tossed her over my shoulder, smacking her fists against my back and pleading dramatically, “Gracie, save me!”

Grace shouted back, “It’s every woman for herself!”

I wanted to be annoyed, I really did. I didn’t want to encourage my bratty sister to waste my time. But also, catching her and tossing her around? It was a little fun. I bit the inside of my cheek to hide that, well … I was enjoying myself.

I pretended to drop Mallory, setting her down carefully and checking her balance before releasing her. I schooled my face to serious, pointed to the ground and commanded “Stay” like she was a dog. Her mouth curved up mischievously.

I was secretly grateful that Mallory didn’t follow directions, yelling Marco Polo to flush Grace out. I found her slinking between the pines, laughing as she padded closer. I crouched until she was close, gripped her wrist and tugged.

She lurched, and my hand steadied her waist. Her cheeks flushed, eyes wide with alarm. She opened her mouth as I bent at the waist and wrapped my arms around her legs, lifting her using the same fireman’s carry I’d used on Mallory. A surprised wail escaped as I shouted, “I’ve got her, Shrimp! Meet by the barn.”

But instead of squirming, Grace’s body went limp.

Her limbs trembled as her breathing sped into pleading whimpers.

When I tried to place her feet down, her body crumpled. I dropped to my knees, cupped her cheeks and said her name. Her glassy gaze looked through my chest.

I screamed for Mallory, my voice panicked.

My sister tore through the trees at top speed. She froze at the sight of Grace on the ground, arms tight around her knees. “What did you do?”

“I carried her out, same as you.”

“Over your shoulder?” I nodded. “Shit.”

Mal knelt in the dirt, removed my hands from Grace’s face, and murmured in a soothing voice. “You’re safe, sweetie. This is your friend Mallory. It’s Saturday night. We’re at a tree farm in Saratoga.”

Panic rose in my chest. “Mal, I didn’t — I carried her the same way …”

“I know,” she looked at me over her shoulder and said somberly, “but I don’t have flashbacks from PTSD.”

Chapter 16

Grace

“Where’s Isaac?” I asked on Christmas morning after church, stealing a bite of pie crust. I used to feel so comfortable in this house, the wafting smell of apples, cinnamon, and Mama’s gardenia perfume.

But not this year.

I hadn't been home since summer break when Elijah and I came home for Nanna's funeral. I'd sat between him and Isaac, biting my cheek and clenching my fists to hold back my tears. If Dad saw me crying I'd get chastised for being too sensitive. But college had taught me that stoicism wasn't a mark of strength.

College taught me more about myself than I ever expected.

I’d woken up before dawn to drive four hours straight from Syracuse to church. Arriving a few minutes early, I'd expected my oldest brother Isaac to slide next to me in our family's front bench, but he could have gone to the earlier service. So I'd sat alone and then chatted with familiar families to delay as long as possible, not wanting to spend a second longer in this house than necessary.

Not with this secret burning inside me.

Not with Elijah in Tokyo for six more months. I needed to tell him first, and this wasn’t exactly news you drop into a Skype call.

So I planned to use Isaac as a shield from Dad … but his car wasn’t here.

---