The Oleander Sisters

Sis followed her sister into a shop that smelled like ripe pears. Little sachets of the potpourri were piled high in crystal bowls along the glass countertop.

A set of full-length mirrors along the east wall showed her sister, multiplied, surrounded by wedding dresses in an endless sea of white.

When the heart breaks it makes a sound so small there is nothing to show for it except a hand clutched over the chest and a sudden smothering sensation. Was it breaking for Emily or herself, a homely woman who would never catch a husband, let alone have a little boy stealing into home plate?

Feeling guilty and remorseful for her unbecoming jealousy of a sister she loved more than all the would-be suitors in Biloxi, Sis followed Emily into an area of curtained dressing rooms where her sister insisted she try on a bridesmaid’s dress. Pink, for God’s sake. Even worse, it had ruffles.

The mirror confirmed that Sis looked as bad as she’d imagined.

“I look like a linebacker dipped in Pepto-Bismol.”

“Hush up. It brings out some color in your face.” Emily walked around her, admiring the awful dress from every angle. “With some pearls and a touch of lipstick, you’ll be sensational.”

Sis had never been sensational in her life. She didn’t know how she was going to start now, with or without lipstick. She didn’t ask what color. She didn’t even want to know.

“Fine.” She couldn’t get out of the dress fast enough. What did it matter how she looked as long as her sister was finally going to get the wedding of her dreams? “You’re the one who ought to be trying on dresses.”

Emily rifled through the rack and held up a floor-length satin dress.

“I like this one. It’s the perfect dress for the perfect wedding.”

Sis wished she could believe that. But since she’d gotten a glimpse of Larry’s true nature, she felt like they were all in the middle of one of the hurricanes that sometimes swept through the Gulf Coast, blowing away everything in its path.

“The dress is lovely, Em. I’ll help get you zipped in.”

“No, no. I can do it by myself.”

Emily clutched the dress to her chest, and for an instant, she wouldn’t even look at Sis. Emily had ocean eyes, a blue so deep it could hold the endless moods of the sea, every one of them reflected in a glance. What was she trying to hide?

“I’m fine, Sis. You wait out here.”

She sank into an overstuffed chair covered in hideous-looking pink chintz wondering what that skunk had said or done to her sister now. Since that awful dinner, Emily hadn’t brought him back to Sweet Mama’s, and he certainly hadn’t shown his slick face in the café. Even worse, Emily, who told her everything, had told her nothing of any importance since that night.

By the time her sister reappeared, Sis was biting her nails down to the quick.

“What do you think, Sis?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“I think it has too many sequins on the bodice.” Emily twisted this way and that in front of the mirror, viewing the dress from all angles.

“Okay. I’ll help you get out of it and you can try on another one.”

“No. You wait here. I want to surprise you.”

Emily selected three more dresses off the racks and disappeared once more into the dressing room while Sis sat there wondering what was taking so long and what in the world was wrong with sequins.

“What about this one?” Emily was in a getup with long, satin sleeves and a tight bodice.

“Can you breathe in that thing?”

“You think it’s too tight?”

“No, I just think you ought to be comfortable at your own wedding.” Emily’s face fell. Had Sis hit a nerve? “But what do I know?”

“I have two more I want to try.”

If the dresses had those silly little buttons in the back like the one she was wearing they’d be there till Judgment Day. And maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea, considering who would be waiting for her sister at the altar.

“Hey, Em,” she called. “Before the wedding, why don’t I take you and Andy somewhere?” Maybe if Emily had some time away from Larry, she’d come to her senses. “Maybe up the Peabody in Memphis so Andy can see the ducks?”

“We’re going camping in the backyard tonight. That’s enough.”

Sis sighed. It was bad enough to keep fighting a battle she couldn’t win. Sitting still for so long in a shop filled with things as breakable as her sister made the situation even worse.

“Need any help in there, Em?”

“No. I’m not even going to zip this one. It’s too pink.”

“I thought you wanted pink.”

“Not this pink. I just don’t want white, that’s all. It doesn’t seem appropriate.”

Emily’s sensitivity to her so-called scarlet past made Sis want to smack somebody. Just about anybody would do.

In a whisper of blush-colored silk that looked like the underside of a camellia, Emily emerged from the dressing room and stood in front of Sis with her yellow hair glowing under the lights and her mouth turned into a shy smile.

“How do I look?”

Beautiful and breathtaking—even happy—were the words that would come to mind if you didn’t know Emily. But Sis had seen how Emily beamed every time she glanced in the direction of her son. There was something amiss here, something as subtle as an undertow in the Gulf you wouldn’t notice until it had swept you out to sea.

Sis looked beyond the swirling skirts, beyond the bodice beaded with seed pearls, beyond the tiny, long-sleeved lace bolero that covered Emily’s arms and shoulders. And that’s when she saw it, the darkening skin of her upper arm.

She leaped up and grabbed her sister’s arm, leaned close for a better look. It was definitely a bruise. Sis had the sensation of looking into a chasm, one so deep and wide it would swallow them all.

“Em, what is this?”

“It’s nothing.” Emily pulled her arm away, but Sis pushed her sister’s sleeve back until she had uncovered the mottled discoloration of a fading bruise.

“How’d you get this?”

When Emily didn’t want to answer a hard question, she got so still you could pass right by and hardly notice her standing there.

“You know I won’t stop till I find out, Em.”

“It was an accident, Sis. Really. For Pete’s sake.” Emily pulled away and pushed her sleeve over the bruise. “I was going down the stairs too fast and fell against the banister. You know how easily I bruise.”

Emily was lying. Sis could tell by the way her sister wouldn’t look into her eyes.

If rage were a country, Sis would be China. This was her baby sister, the one Sis had loved and fought for, even to the point of cornering the Bible school teacher at Biloxi Baptist Church and threatening to beat the snot out of her if she didn’t put a star on Emily’s chart.

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