Butterfly Dreams (24 page)

I hadn't seen my sister in a while. Over a year at least. She had lost some weight since then. She had a few extra wrinkles and her eyes looked tired. But she was still pretty. She and I looked a lot alike. We had the same brown hair and dark brown eyes. We both sported the same dimple in our chins. But for all our physical similarities, we couldn't be more different.

“I never wanted to come here again,” Tamsin said after a beat.

“Yeah, I got that impression when you would never come home to visit,” I snapped. I hadn't meant to be so short with her but she brought out the bitch in me. It must be catching.

“Mom and Dad were great parents. They really were. I loved them so much. But I couldn't watch them die. So I stayed away. I'm not saying it was the right thing to do. But I was still a kid too, Cor.”

I shook my head. Her excuses were just that—excuses.

We had never really talked about when Mom and Dad were sick. Tamsin seemed to relocate that to the back of her head where you put your most embarrassing memories and random football stats.

It felt strange to be discussing this now.

But it was a long time coming.

Too long.

“I was a kid too,” I spat out.

Tamsin sighed and turned to look at me. “Yeah, I know. And I was a selfish jerk. I left you to deal with all that on your own. And I wasn't exactly understanding after Dad died. We cope in different ways. You think you're dying all the time, and I become super bitch and throw myself into school or my job, avoiding the hard stuff. Neither is healthy.”

“Yeah, so we're both fucked up. I still don't see what that has to do with selling the house. Why are you so hell-bent on getting rid of it? Don't you want to hang onto that last connection to Mom and Dad?” I asked her, my anger still simmering away.

“No, I don't,” she answered shortly, striking me speechless.

“You don't?” I asked, aghast.

“I don't need a pile of bricks to hang onto Mom and Dad. And neither do you. If anything, I think this place holds us back. It ties us to a time we shouldn't want to go back to.”

“It wasn't all bad here,” I protested.

“You're right. It wasn't. But at some point those good memories were drowned out by the bad ones. I can't look up at that green siding and yellow door and think of anything but the fact that our parents died in there.” Tamsin wiped her eyes. I hadn't noticed that she had started to cry. Maybe she wasn't completely unfeeling.

That small show of genuine emotion softened me, just the slightest, toward my sister.

Her words hit me hard. Mostly because it was exactly how I felt about the house I had lived in. I just had no idea she felt the same way.

“But there
were
good times, Tam. Lots of them,” I continued to argue. It seemed more for the sake of arguing though rather than with real conviction.

Tamsin sighed. “Then why won't you go inside? Why do you want to keep a house you refuse to live in? You refuse to even walk into? I think you, more than me, need to let this go. You need to let go of whatever makes it impossible for you to be here. Because it's eating away at you.”

“What would you know about what's eating away at me? It's not like you have ever taken the time to know anything about me!”

“You're right. I haven't. When you were younger, it was because you annoyed the crap out of me. You were my irritating little sister, always underfoot and in my business. But after that, when first Mom then Dad got sick, I stayed away because it was easier. Because if I looked at you, I had to face what was happening to
them.
You made me remember how much it hurt to lose them.”

Wow. I hadn't expected that.

At all.

It was the most honest Tamsin had ever been with me. I didn't know what to make of it.

“Of all the selfish bull—”

“Yes, it was selfish. Yes, it was wrong. I can't change it. But I'd like to do things differently in the future. Starting now.”

I looked at her as though she had grown another head. “Why in the hell are you saying all of this now? Is this just to butter me up so I'll sell the house?”

Tamsin chuckled. “Not a bad idea, but no.”

She looked up at the house again and I followed her gaze. I wasn't entirely sure what I felt when I looked at it. But I knew Tam was right. I was tired of holding onto a bad memory.

“Actually, I started seeing a therapist a couple of months ago.”

This time I laughed. “You seeing a therapist? Isn't that a sign of the apocalypse?”

“Very funny, Corin. Your sense of humor is as delightful as always.” Tamsin pursed her lips. “Jared was the one who suggested it. We were having…
trouble.
So we started seeing a couple's counselor, and she suggested that I see someone on my own. To address my unresolved issues about Mom and Dad.”

I was blown away.

Tamsin had rendered me speechless. Again.

“Has it helped?” I asked quietly. For my own reasons.

“It's been good for me. I realized where I've been deficient in my communications with people. And it's put some things in perspective. Including how I've treated you and our lack of relationship.”

“We have
no
relationship, Tamsin. We never have.”

Tamsin sighed again. “We're the only family each other has. We should treat each other better.” I opened my mouth to argue some more but she stopped me. “I don't expect us to be best friends, Cor, but I do hope we can be better than we have been.”

I didn't say anything. I wasn't entirely sure what
to
say.

When I was a little girl, I would have given anything to have my cool older sister to want to have a relationship with me.

But now?

There were a lot of grudges to get rid of first.

“Are you guys coming in?” Jared yelled from the front door. I could see Beckett behind him.

“Are you coming in?” Tamsin asked.

I looked at my sister who watched me expectantly and then at Beckett, his expression concerned.

I nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

I agreed to sell the house.

It seemed like such a sudden change in attitude, but in truth it wasn't. Even though I had been so adamantly against it, deep down it was something I knew needed to be done.

But it was a decision that wasn't made lightly.

I realized after walking inside my childhood home for the first time in years, that too many things were holding me back.

My grief.

My fear.

My obstinate refusal to let go of my parents.

Tamsin and I walked into the house after our mind-opening chat and I thought I was going to be sick.

My stomach clenched and I broke out into a cold sweat. Jared was talking to Ellis the real estate agent, discussing the crown moldings and updated boiler.

Everything was different. Of course it was. Other people lived there now. It was filled with
their
furniture.
Their
memories.

But mine were still there. Tucked into corners. Bled into the walls.

Happy memories.

But so many bad ones too.

My mother had died here and my father had wasted away just upstairs.

I had lost my childhood here.

I was stuck in the bricks and mortar.

Tamsin put her hand on my back, a comforting gesture that shocked me.

“Look around, Cor. Do you see anything here you want to keep?”

I took a deep breath, trying to keep the butterflies at bay. They were there, fluttering wings and sharp feet, waiting to drag me down.

“If you can walk around and tell me that you really want to keep the house, then I won't push to sell it. We'll figure out a way to keep paying for it.”

My sister was full of surprises, apparently.

“What happened to needing to sell the house to get a down payment on your own place?” I questioned.

“Jared and I will figure out something. So if you really want to keep this house, we'll keep it. Actually, I'll sign it over to you. It'll be yours.”

My heart started to pound in my chest. Hard and fast.

“Really?” I breathed.

Tamsin nodded. “Yes, really. But I want you to walk through every room. Take your time, sis. Think long and hard about what keeping this house would mean for you. And if you can tell me that it's not just an excuse to stop yourself from moving on, I will sign over the deed today.”

I was overwhelmed. And sick.

I hadn't felt ill in weeks.

But I felt sick then. Really sick. I was having trouble breathing. I was sweating like a pig.

Tamsin tucked a piece of hair behind my ear and gave me a sad smile. “I think you're stuck, Corin. Stuck in these rooms. Still thinking like the eighteen-year-old girl who had to watch our dad die. And
I
think selling this place could cut a cord you don't need anymore. But that's just my opinion. Take it or leave it.”

“Don't think because you're being shrinked, you can psychoanalyze me. You're not qualified to do that. I don't want to hear your bullshit,” I seethed, suddenly angry. So, so angry. And defensive.

Because she had cut me deep. So deep that I felt it in the darkest recesses of my repressed heart.

Tamsin didn't snap back at me. She didn't offer a snide retort. She just looked at me sadly, with an understanding that made me extremely uncomfortable.

“I don't want to psychoanalyze you. I just want you to hear me,” she said.

I rubbed my temples, willing the throbbing to stop.

“I shouldn't have said that,” I conceded, feeling contrite.

Tamsin tentatively put her arm around my shoulders and gave me a brief hug. “It's okay. I know I've earned a lot worse.”

I snorted. “I'm not going to argue with you there.”

Tamsin gave me a reassuring squeeze before she left my side, walking back to her husband and the agent.

I braced myself against the doorjamb, still not walking all the way inside.

Beckett was at my side in an instant. “What did she say?” he angrily whispered so that my sister wouldn't overhear.

I shook my head. My eyes scanned the familiar room filled with an unfamiliar life.

“She said something. You look horrible, Corin.”

“Thanks,” I said, and chuckled without humor.

Beckett took my hand and held it to his chest. “What happened? Tell me, please,” he pleaded.

“I think I just made peace with my sister,” I told him.

He frowned, looking confused.

I kissed his chin. God, I loved him. Soon I'd tell him. He deserved to hear it.

I deserved to say it.

“Come on. Let's have a look around. We'll talk more later.” I took his hand and the small contact of skin on skin strengthened me enough to do what I needed to do.

Slowly I made my way through my old home. Memories assaulted me at every turn. Sometimes I smiled. Sometimes I bit my lip so I wouldn't sob like a baby.

I wouldn't go into my parents' room. I just couldn't. Tamsin went in but came back out quickly. She looked pale and visibly shaken.

I surprised both of us when I walked over and took her hand. Her eyes met mine and for the first time in our lives, there was a true understanding between us.

A connection.

When we were finished walking through the house, we went back outside and Jared locked the front door.

“How was that?” Beckett asked.

“It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be,” I admitted.

“It's a nice place,” he commented, rubbing my arm. I leaned into him, taking strength from his comfort.

“It
was
.”

I let out a long breath. “It's not my house anymore.”

Beckett stopped rubbing. “What do you mean?”

“It's not my house anymore. There were good memories there. Lots of them. But all I could feel as I walked through was death. And misery.”

Tears slipped down my cheeks and I wiped them away. “I hate that I feel that way, but I do. And I don't want to hold onto that. Not anymore.”

“That doesn't mean you won't change your mind later,” Beckett argued. “Don't make a decision now that you'll regret down the road, Corin.”

“I want to sell the house. Tam's right, it's a link to a time I can't move on from. I
need
to move on. I have to find a way.”

Beckett wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight. He kissed the top of my head over and over again.

“You will. I'll help you. We'll do it together,” he promised.

And I believed him.

Totally.

Completely.

Because Beckett would never lie to me.

Our futures were with each other.

And my life was beginning now.

I had been sitting at my kitchen table for over an hour staring down at the tiny business card in my hand.

The number on the bottom had become ingrained in my mind. I'd remember those numbers ten years from now.

“Just call already,” I muttered aloud. Great, now I was talking to myself. I definitely needed to call the number before I started a two-way conversation.

“If Tamsin can do this, I sure as hell can do this,” I goaded myself.

Okay, this was officially getting ridiculous.

I quickly dialed the number and put the phone to my ear.

“Good afternoon, Chris Riley's office.”

And I hung up.

I had just prank called a therapist. And I thought that I
didn't
have issues?

I had called Chris Riley's office and hung up every day since I had seen my sister. I was almost there. Almost ready to take that step and do the very thing I had sworn I would never do.

But I was terrified.

I wasn't sure I could go through with it.

Because deep down I didn't want to admit that what Dr. Graham and Dr. Harrison had said was true.

That my illnesses, my chronic ailments, were all in my head.

I didn't want confirmation that I was bat-shit insane.

“Corin?”

Beckett came into my kitchen and found me still at the table with that damn business card fixed to my palm.

“I've been knocking on your door for the past five minutes. What in the hell are you doing?” Beckett dropped a hand onto my shoulder and leaned down to give me a kiss.

“Sorry. I didn't hear you,” I replied distractedly.

Beckett sat down across from me, his eyes skimming over the white card. He didn't ask me if I had called.

He could tell by the look on my face that I hadn't.

But I needed to.

I wanted to have a normal life. I wanted that normal life with Beckett. If I couldn't deal with my issues, what future could we possibly have?

I had decided to sell my parents' house, but it wasn't enough.

I had to deal with all of me. All of the shit I had going on inside.

“Will you sit with me while I call?” I asked softly, looking up at the man who had slowly and surely become my everything.

Beckett reached across the table and took my hands in his. He lifted them to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. His eyes were gentle and full of so much love it made my chest tight.

I had to do this. For him. For me.

For
us.

“I won't ever leave, Corin. I'll always be here.”

His promise was exactly what I needed.

Why did Chris Riley's office have to be so cliché? It was incredibly disappointing.

The giant fish tank and Enya being piped through the speakers was enough to make me want to leave. And fast.

How could I possibly talk to a man that listened to Enya?

I was making excuses. I realized that. But at the moment, they made a hell of a lot of sense.

I was just getting to my feet when the office door opened and a middle-aged man wearing a sweater-vest came in.

Chris Riley, LPC, had messy blond hair and laugh lines around his eyes. He had a kind face and that made me almost forgive him for the sweater-vest and Enya.

“Hello. You must be Corin Thompson. I'm Chris Riley.” He had a firm handshake, which was also reassuring.

“Hi,” I responded, not sure if I was expected to say anything else. Was he shrinking me yet? Judging and analyzing?

I stood awkwardly in the middle of his office wondering if it was too late to make a run for it.

Stop it, Corin. Don't sabotage something that could really help.

“Why don't you have a seat? Do you want something to drink? Coffee? Water?”

“Do you have any green tea?” I asked.

Chris Riley smiled. “As a matter of fact, I do. I'll get you a cup. Do you like it with honey?”

I smiled, thinking about Beckett. “Yes, please.”

Chris made my tea and handed me the hot mug. He had to work on his honey-to-tea ratio but it wasn't bad.

He sat down, not behind his desk, but in the armchair beside me. He had a clipboard in his lap but he wasn't looking at it. He was looking at me.

I took a nervous sip of my tea, not caring that it burned the roof of my mouth.

“How's the tea?” he asked after a few minutes of agonizing silence.

“Fine,” I grudgingly admitted.

“Good. I take my tea preparation skills very seriously.” Chris grinned and his statement, so much like Beckett's when we first met, helped me to relax marginally.

“So, tell me a little bit about yourself, Corin.”

“Don't you want to know why I'm here first? Wouldn't that make more sense?” I questioned, frowning.

Chris shrugged. “I figured we'd get there eventually. But I'd like to get to know you first.”

“Okay…” I dragged the word out, not sure what to think about Mr. Sweater-Vest and his noninvasive approach.

“Let's start with the simple stuff. What do you do for a living?” Chris asked.

I scratched absentmindedly at my arm. “I own the Razzle Dazzle pottery studio in town.”

Chris smiled brightly. “My daughter loves your studio! I've been there a few times myself! It's wonderful, Corin.”

I relaxed a bit further. “Thanks. I'm pretty proud of it.”

“That's quite an accomplishment for someone so young. You're only twenty-five, correct?”

I nodded. “I opened the store just out of high school.” I took another sip of tea and sat back into the couch cushions, crossing my legs. This was a lot easier than I expected it to be.

“Wow. That's incredible. Did your parents help you start it up?” he asked innocently.

I instantly tensed.

Here we go…

“Uh, no they didn't.”

I scratched at my arm again.

Chris, recognizing that he had stumbled onto a topic I wasn't comfortable with, deftly moved on. He didn't push for more information, which shocked me. Isn't that what he was supposed to be doing? Getting the dirt?

“So tell me about the people in your life, Corin. Your friends. Significant other.”

I relaxed again. “My best friend Adam helps me run the store. He's my partner, actually. We've been friends since high school. He's a bit rough around the edges but he's really been there for me.”

I thought about Adam and how he had supported me over the years, even when I didn't realize that was what he was doing. He was a better friend than I ever gave him credit for.

“Adam sounds like a great guy,” Chris observed.

I nodded. “He is. He's really the only friend I have. I'm not the easiest person to be around.” I laughed.

Chris looked at me searchingly. “Really. Why is that?”

“I can be high maintenance. It takes a special person to put up with all of my neuroses.”

“Okay, so you have Adam. And you say that there's no one else in your life?”

I flushed and bit down on my lip to stop myself from grinning. “I have a boyfriend named Beckett. He's why I'm here, actually,” I found myself saying.

Chris smiled. “Oh really?”

“I want to build a life with him. And if I want to do that, I have to deal with all of the crap I have going on up here.” I tapped my temple for emphasis.