Second Sister

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Christmas angels in time of need.
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sr71plt
sr71plt
3,018 Followers

"No, I couldn't possibly, Janice. You're wonderful for offering. But, no, of course I couldn't."

"Of course you can, Ann," Janice shot back as she decisively slapped her leather gloves done on the hall table and began to unbutton her coat. "There's no reason at all you can't. And I insist that you stay at the mall for at least five hours. I don't want to see your face back here until four o'clock at the earliest."

"My hair. Just look at my hair, Janice. I haven't been to the hairdressers in I don't know how long. I can't possibly go out looking like this."

"Here, put this on" Janice said, as she darted into the darkened living room and came back with one of Ellen's wigs—a blonde one, all puffy and starched up like it was a regular on theLawrence Welk Show. "Ugh, where did they find this?" Janice muttered to herself.

"What? What did you say?" Ann asked.

"I said that champagne blonde becomes you. Just look at that." Both women were standing, looking into the mirror over the hall table. Ann looking like a deer just before being introduced to a Mac truck and Janice doing all she could to keep her smiley face intact. To Janice, Ann looked like she'd aged ten years in just these past three months—and Janice wondered with a pang of self-reproach if she hadn't come too late. If Ann hadn't been snappish when they met at the grocery store the other day, Janice wouldn't have even realized that she'd already reached this stage.

Ann was pulling at wisps of hair in the blonde helmet wig, which all just snapped back in place when she let loose of them. "Well . . . But no, I couldn't possibly. I don't even have a car. The Corolla is in the shop. I'm grounded."

"No problem," Janice countered. She had moved over to the closet and was trying to eyeball which coat would be Ann's and which one Ellen's. "You can take my car. I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying here with Ellen while you're gone."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly let you do that . . . ummm, it's the camel hair one to the left there . . . the way Ellen is, I'm the only one . . . no one else should . . ."

"Ann, honey, you forget that I've already been through this with Cal," Janice said, putting as much determination in her voice as she could muster. She hadn't been sure whether Ann really was open to this, down deep, but Ann—at least subconsciously—had told her which coat was hers, so she mentally was already half way out of the door. So, Janice had no qualms now that this was exactly what Ann needed. "I took care of Cal for nearly a year, and this sort of font of experience isn't something one forgets—ever. You run along now. Here are the keys to the Merc. We'll be just fine."

Ann had been virtually propelled out of her own house. She had no idea why Janice was being such a Christmas angel. The last time Ann had seen Janice—at the grocery store last week—she'd been downright nasty to Janice. But, yet, here was Janice, forcing Ann out of the house and away from Ellen.

Ann knew she was at the breaking point. Obviously Janice had seen that as well and was extra sensitive to it. Janice had finally lost Cal to it in the spring. So Ann guessed she could see when someone in the same circumstance was at the breaking point. Regardless, she was a Christmas angel for actually doing something about it.

Ann loved her younger sister, Ellen, dearly, but their's hadn't been what you would call a demonstrative family. Ellen was a good seven years younger than Ann and had been born prematurely and always had been a bit on the sickly side. Their miracle baby—that's what their parents had called Ellen. And from the time Ellen had been born, Ann had felt she was leading the life of the "other" child. The one who could always be counted on to behave and to help out. The strong one. The one who didn't needed quite so much attention and affection.

And now, now that Ellen had come to live with Ann to be near the hospital for her chemotherapy, Ann couldn't help but feel trapped and put upon. She knew she shouldn't resent it; she loved her sister even though she never felt that Ellen loved her back. That's what Ann firmly believed—that one was required to love their immediate family members. And Ellen hadn't asked for all of the attention Ann was giving her. It was just Ann's way of responding to these situations. It was the way she was raised. Still, she had needs too.

Ann wasn't paying full attention when she pulled into the busy mall parking lot outside the entrance to Macy's. She had been struggling with her feelings again—trying not to feel sorry for herself—and oh so tired—but not winning that battle. If she hadn't been so preoccupied, she would have realized that she couldn't fit Janice's big Mercedes in the spot she was trying to maneuver into. She wasn't driving her Corolla. She swung back out, barely missing a little convertible that had also been angling for that spot.

"Well, I can't fit into the slot," Ann muttered to herself. "That young woman can, though. Good for her."

Ann had found a bigger spot not far away that an SUV was just pulling out of. As she walked down the line of parked cars toward the mall, she passed behind the convertible that had gotten the spot she first tried to fit into just as a young woman was unfolding herself from the vehicle and turning around.

Ann did a double take and emitted a exclamation that came out as something more like a snort. The young woman exiting the small car was the spitting image of her sister Ellen—or at least of the Ellen of two years ago who had been vibrant and elegant and all other things that Ann had wished to be—but had not been.

Ann was aware that she was staring and not showing the nicest face at this shocking reminder of her sister at a time when they were quite definitely not getting along well, and Ann looked away abruptly, squared her shoulders, and quickened her pace toward the mall.

She was terrible. She really had to put this resentment between her and her sister behind her. True that Ellen had always had and been all of the things that Ann wanted to have and be. But Ellen now had the one thing that changed all of the rest. Ellen had cancer. Ellen was facing death, and Ann had the precious thing that Ellen could not count on—good health. If only they had known this two years ago. If only Ellen had known it. Ann had done what she could to be a "best sister"—and Ellen had kept putting her off. Ellen had always seemed to go for the surface pleasures, nothing really meaningful. And Ann had to admit that she'd been openly judgmental about that—probably far too often.

But it was Christmas. Ann always hoped for the best, especially at Christmas time. It had been the one season in her family during which she had been happy—because the spirit of Christmas had always given her hope. No matter what was actually happening in her life.

Ann knew what she'd do. She'd shop for a few Christmas presents for Ellen. Frivolous things, but things with some permanence to them. Nothing to remind Ellen—or herself—how temporary and uncertain life was. Something to make Ellen smile. Ann would give anything to see Ellen smile again—she'd even happily endure the Ann of two years ago.

Ann decided to start at Victoria's Secret. Ellen had always loved having finely made and sexy lingerie. There was no reason why she shouldn't still have it.

As Ann entered the store, however, she was caught short by an image that transported her in a flash back to two years previously. The young woman from the parking lot—the woman who was the spitting image of Ellen in happier days—was already in the store and was perusing a stack of lacey-red nightgowns. Ann was being confronted with the frivolous self-centered Ellen of such recent times, and all of the resentment and frustration raced back into Ann's mind. She could rationalize her feelings about Ann and her bad decisions and her lack of appreciation for others away, as she had just been trying to do, but Ann couldn't rationalize away the raw emotions she continued to harbor.

There was a snort and the young woman quickly looked up and her eyes briefly met Ann's again. Ann only half realized that the snort had come from herself and that, once again, she wasn't giving the young woman the best of facial expressions. When she fully realized the effect she was having on the young woman, Ann turned away and moved over to a table where bras were laid out by size. Ann was thinking of Ellen so she moved to the end of the table with the larger cup sizes. There was no reason why Ann shouldn't have a nice bra. They had ones here that wouldn't reveal where the scars were.

The young woman moved away from the sales table and Ann saw her move to the more expensive racks in the store. She was picking out what was obviously a very expensive red silk nightgown—just the sort of frivolous expense Ellen would have made two years ago. Ann felt herself praying that the young woman wouldn't buy the nightgown—that she would be moved to reject such expensive play toys while there was still time to make more of her life. That she would realize how fleeting life was and how many needs people other than herself had; that she'd give some thought to what Christmas as all about.

And Ann's heart fell as she saw the young woman take the red silken nightgown from the rack and carry it over to the sales desk. Ann heard the young woman telling the salesclerk that she was buying it for a Christmas cruise to Bermuda. And Ann was miserable. She turned away and walked out of the store.

She beat herself up in her mind as she stumbled toward the mall's food court, stopping at a coffee café en route for a cup of something hot. She was being crazy and unreasonable to boot. This young woman wasn't Ellen. She hadn't done anything wrong. Ann was just being unreasonable to make this transference. She'd just have to pull herself together and think about something else; this was merely symptomatic of the stress she'd been under in taking such intensive care of Ellen this past couple of months. And she knew, deep down in her heart, that she was only doing that to compensate for her resentment of her younger sister—of her insatiable needs.

But Ann didn't stop thinking of the young woman. Throughout her lunch at the food court and while wandering through the shops picking up this or that which might help cheer Ellen up, Ann found herself praying that something would happen in that young woman's life that would keep her from becoming an Ellen of two years ago—that she wouldn't lose out on life as Ellen had done.

And then, just before the timing of Ann's banishment from her own home was up, Ann's spirits were lifted. She was walking past the entrance of Victoria's Secret, and there was the young woman, back at the counter. All smiles and radiant, as if she'd unlocked some secret to life—and returning that expensive red silk nightgown. Ann had no idea what this meant, other than it made her happy and let her imagine that her prayers had been answered.

Ann didn't park the Mercedes in her driveway when she got home; she parked on the street in front of the neighbor's house. Then she approached the house quietly and from the side, using the back entrance into the laundry room off the kitchen. She was bearing Christmas gifts for Ellen and didn't want to be seen or heard before she was able to tuck them away in the cabinets over the washer and dryer.

When she came into the kitchen, she heard Janice and Ellen conversing in the living room.

Ellen hadn't been downstairs in over two weeks. This was a good sign if Janice had been able to entice Ellen downstairs. Ann had gone to great pains to put up a Christmas tree—using all of the ornaments from their childhood. Trying her best to give Ellen a memorable Christmas for what quite possibly was her last. But Ellen hadn't even come downstairs to see what Ann had done.

Ann would barely make out what her sister and friend were saying, and she found herself drawing quietly toward the door from the kitchen into the dining L off the living room to hear better.

"Then you must tell her so," Janice was saying. "You really must. My Cal told me . . . eventually . . . but it would have meant the world to me if he'd just said those things months earlier."

"I know," Ellen said. "I know I must . . . and sometimes I start to . . . but then I just can't . . ."

"You don't want to make it harder for her? Is that it? Your passing and leaving her behind just when you'd become the greatest of friends? That's what Cal said—that he didn't want me to think of him too fondly, to feel the loss too harshly."

"Yes . . . yes, precisely," Ellen said. "Somehow I think it would be easier for her if she never knew how much I've always looked up to her. How grateful I am she's my sister. How much easier she's made all of this for me."

"You've asked me to help you get a Christmas gift for Ann," Janice said quietly after a long pause. "You know what she'd like best, don't you . . . and I wouldn't even have to go to a store for it, would I?"

"Yes, guess I know," Ellen said. "I'll try."

"However much time there is left," Janice said, "it will be so much better if you tell her, you know. That's how it was with Cal and me. I know how hard these things are, but . . ."

"Yes, I'll . . . try," Ellen murmured.

Ann couldn't stay there listening for more. She knew she was about to let loose with a sob that would reveal her presence. She quietly moved back toward the laundry room. She'd go back out to the Mercedes and drive it back up to the house with all of "I'm arriving" noise she could muster.

She had no idea if Ellen would ever find the courage to tell her how she felt. But that didn't really matter. Now Ann knew already. It made all of the difference in the world. Her Christmas was already complete. And what a true Christmas angel Janice was.

sr71plt
sr71plt
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sr71pltsr71pltover 15 years agoAuthor
Note from Author

Note that this is one segment of an interrelated series of standalone stories. Those wishing to read in order can travel the following route: “Second Honeymoon,” “Second Sister,” either “Second Christmas Tree” or “Second Chance,” and ending with “Second Sight.”

sacksackover 15 years ago
excellent suite of 4 stories

well written, heartfelt, "no sex" is OK. Good luck!

hansbwlhansbwlover 15 years ago
Interlinking

stories. I have today read your 4 stories in this serie which I suppose you can call "The Second Serie." It was fasinating to read them to see how the are knitted together. I loved them and for once I have found a real writer. Thank you. I hope more readers discovers the serie.

AnonymousAnonymousover 15 years ago
No sex!

A very refreshing departure from the other entries.Although I enjoyed a lot of them.Please continue writing as you see fit.

AnonymousAnonymousover 15 years ago
As good as Fading Star

Very nice Christmas story.

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