Page 55 of Pieces of Ash
She loved you.
Did she?
Didshe love me?
She writes over and over again that she hated me, and yet she could have run away, but she didn’t. She could have killed herself, but she didn’t. In fact, it appears that I might have been the reason she stayed with Mosier. Why? Because she knew what he intended? Did she know when she married him? Or only after? I have so many questions, and while I know that reading her diary might give me the answers I crave, every entry throws me into a chaotic emotional spiral that makes it hard to breathe. I have to pace my reading, or I feel like my head will explode.
There’s a soft knock at the screen door.
“Um…hi?”
I start at the unexpected sound of a woman’s voice, jerking my neck up to see a woman, more or less my age, standing on the porch.
“Hi,” I say automatically.
She has light brown hair and a duffel bag hanging from her shoulder. “I’m Noelle.”
Okay.I stare at her as the kettle starts to whistle.
She grins. “Noelle. Julian’s sister? Noelle?”
“Oh!” I exclaim, crossing to the back door to open it. “Yes, of course. Sorry. I was?—”
“I think your water’s ready,” she says, looking over my shoulder at the stove.
“Right. Yes,” I say, stepping over to the stove and lifting the kettle. I turn to her. “Can I make you a cup of tea?”
Her face blooms into a smile, and I can see so much of her brother in her pretty features, it makes my heart catch. I’ve seen Julian smile only once, but now I know what it would look like if he’d do it more freely.
“Tea? Oh. No. That’s okay, but thanks.”
She drops her bag on the floor and pulls a stool out from under the counter. I pour boiling water into my white mug, then pull out the stool across from hers.
“I’m so sorry,” she says. “Jules didn’t tell me your name.”
Jules? Hmm.
“It’s Ashley,” I say, reaching my hand across the table to shake hers.
I know that “Jules” won’t like it that I’m downstairs visiting with his sister, but it feels rude to leave her all alone, so I decide to stay just until he makes an appearance.
Noelle cocks her head to the side, her eyes narrowing. “You looksofamiliar to me.”
“I get that a lot.”
“Why?” She pauses, her brain trying to figure it out. “Who do you remind me of?”
Maybe it’s because I’ve been reading my mother’s diary today, or because I’m just so sick and tired of hiding who I am, but I sit up straighter and say, “Tigín.”
“Tigín?” says Noelle. “Themodel?” I watch her face as she does a mental comparison, her eyes widening and lips parting as she makes the connection. “Oh, my god. I’ve seen pictures of you two inPeoplemagazine!You’re her sister.”
I’m about to nod when a voice behind me makes me freeze.
“Who’s whose sister?”
I snap my neck to look over my shoulder.
Julian stands in the kitchen doorway in jeans and a T-shirt, his feet bare, his hair wet, and his face so spectacularly handsome as he grins at Noelle, that the humming and buzzing starts up between my legs again. I gulp softly, clenching my thighs together before turning back to Noelle.
