Page 15 of Before the Storm

Tara began to sob with fear and sorrow. Josie’s heart felt crunched. She drove faster and parked in the hospital lot, then helped her sister to the double-wide doors. Soon enough, they were given a wheelchair and whisked off to the labor and delivery ward. But even there, Tara couldn’t stop crying.

“Do you think you could try to call them?” she asked of their parents. “I mean, I just always imagined Mom being here, you know? I always imagined it would be you and me and her?”

Josie held Tara’s hand and tried to be strong for her. She didn’t want to remind Tara that their mother had left without telling them where she was going. She didn’t want to remind Tara that their parents had always been egotistical.

The night their parents left had been the first time they’d shown their true colors to Tara. Tara was still reeling.

“I can’t do this!” Tara cried.

“You can,” Josie reminded her calmly. “I’m right here.”

Tara squeezed her hand hard as another contraction pummeled through her. Josie bit her tongue to keep from screaming.

For a little while, Josie thought maybe Donnie had run away with the redhead and abandoned Tara. Perhaps she’d lucked out.He’s a ticking time bomb, she thought. But soon enough, Donnie hurried into the hospital room, covered Tara’s face with kisses, and said he’d be there for her every step of the way.

“I want Josie to stay,” Tara said.

“Of course. Of course,” Donnie said. “We’ll both be here.”

But Donnie wasn’t in the hospital room for long. When the going got tough, he panicked and went for long walks through the hallways, grabbing coffee and food and making phone calls. Josie had no idea who he was talking to. But she didn’t have time to care.

Tara was too distracted to worry about what Donnie was doing. Josie coached her as best as she could and was the only one in the room when it was announced she was fully dilated and it was time. Neither of them mentioned Donnie’s name when Tara began to push.

At eleven thirty that evening—as fireworks continued to explode across the black sky—Tara gave birth to a healthy and beautiful baby girl. Josie was there to cut the umbilical cord. It didn’t matter where Donnie was, not now, as Josie wiped her sister’s forehead of sweat and told her, “You were brilliant. You were sensational. You did it.” Tara wept when she held her baby for the first time, peering down at the tiny red feet, the teensy hands, and the big eyes.

“You’re safe, little one,” Tara whispered to her daughter. “Your aunt and I will always be there for you. We’ll never let you go.”

Josie bit her tongue to keep from bursting into tears.

This is all I’ve ever needed, she thought.I’m safe in this bountiful love.

Chapter Five

December 2024

Tara texted Josie from the belly of the ferry. She sat in her car as her hands and legs shook from the cold and wrote: Okay, I’m on the way. Text me your address, please.

Immediately afterward, shame and sorrow rushed through her chest and made it difficult for her to breathe. Tara got out of the car and walked upstairs as the great vessel moved slowly through the Nantucket Sound. In the coffee shop, she ordered a black coffee and sat with both hands around the mug, watching the water. She was so distracted that she forgot to drink it.

It was hard not to remember that when she and Josie were in their twenties, they’d sat in this very coffee shop and cracked jokes and made each other cackle with a kind of mania that made everyone else seem gray-faced and boring. They’d only ever needed each other.

Josie wrote back with her address, followed by: You really shouldn’t come. You don’t owe me anything. I just wanted to let you know the situation.

Tara wrote back: I’m coming. Be there in five hours.

Tara was in a foul mood. She was also frantic and terrified. When she got back into her car, she drove a little too cautiously, so much so that she nearly caused an accident while moving off the ferry. On the highway, she cursed the drivers going over the speed limit. Didn’t they know how important her life suddenly was? Her sister needed her. Her sister had decided it was all right to just die at forty-five without trying anything else first. She couldn’t stand it.

Halfway to Manhattan, Stephanie, the grief therapist, called to check in. Tara had texted Stephanie about going to see her sister for the first time in many years. Stephanie was alarmed.

“Hi, Tara. How are you feeling?” Stephanie asked.

Tara could picture Stephanie in the warmth of her beige office. She could picture her adjusting her glasses and furrowing her brow.

“I’m going to see my sister for the first time in many years,” Tara offered, feeling sarcastic. “She’s apparently dying. So I feel great, actually. Just really good.”

Stephanie had previously explained to Tara that sarcasm was a defense mechanism. Tara blushed and was grateful Stephanie couldn’t see her.

“I’m sorry,” Tara hurried to say. “I’m just really anxious.”

---