The Peculiar Miracles of Antoinette Martin: A Novel Read Online Free Page B

eyes still closed, she said, “I told you, it was a flower farm. No chickens. No pigs.” Her mind, though, was on the numbers of Eden Farms: the percentage she once owned (half), the percentage she now owned after signing her share over to Rose when their parents died (zero), the number of years that had passed since she had been home (over six), and the number of years since she’d last spoken to her sister (also over six).
    Being apart from home, and from Rose, was like missing a limb, but going back would be like trying to sew an arm back on.
    “Why won’t you tell me about it? And when was the last time you went back?” Will asked, pushing her deeper into memories. “It’s home. You know, that place where if you show up, they have to take you in?”
    No , Lily thought. They don’t. And most likely, they wouldn’t.
    Will was still talking. “It’s half yours isn’t it? Just because your sister’s crazy doesn’t mean you have to stay away.”
    “She’s not crazy. She’s mad at me.” It wasn’t half hers anymore either. Lily pushed her plate back and stood. She and Rose once had been sisters in every sense of the word, when they were young and naive enough to believe that something like blood could tie you together forever. What they didn’t know then was that it could just as easily push you apart.
    “Which in my book makes her crazy. How could anyone be mad at you? Come on. It’s not far. Let’s hop in the car and surprise her.”
    There was a pile of terra-cotta pots and concrete urns under the deck Lily had been meaning to go through. Most were cracked or broken in some way, but she hoped some could be salvaged. As Will prattled on about the farm, she stood and walked down the stairs to the patio.
    After a moment, Will followed. The deck boards creaked under his feet. “You know I don’t mean anything.” He ducked under the deck. “I bet you were cute then. Barefoot in the dirt.”
    She reached into the jumble of pots and picked up a blue ceramic container. A thin crack slashed across its surface. She turned the pot over: the crack went all the way through. She put it aside. The next pot she removed from the pile had a thin coat of green mold on the outside but no cracks. Definitely salvageable. Inside the house, the phone rang, but she made no move to answer it.
    Will took the pot from her and set it aside. He captured her hands and said, “I’m sorry. I promise I’ll be good this time. Now come on back up and sit with me.” In the sunlight she could see how dilated his pupils were. They squeezed out most of the blue in his eyes.
    “Come on, Lils. It’s a beautiful day. We’ll sit on the deck, and I won’t mention your crazy sister at all.” Lily struggled not to smile, but he saw it anyway. “That’s the Lily I know.” This time when he tugged her hand, she let him lead her back up the stairs.
    He guided her to the far edge of the deck and leaned against the rail. “See,” he said, “I can be good.”
    “There’s a first for everything,” Lily said with a smile.
    Will bumped his shoulder against hers. The gesture was friendly and intimate at the same time. “I just want you to be happy.”
    Lily looked out across her small backyard. The roses had started to leaf out, but it would be a month or more before they bloomed. “I am happy,” she said.
    “I know you better than that. I see it every spring—you miss home.”
    He was right, but Lily didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, she said, “Why does it matter so much to you?”
    He twined his fingers through hers. “You should know the answer to that. You matter to me. What’s important to you is important to me.”
    Her hand grew hot under his.
    “Plus,” he said, “I’ve got a thing for farm girls. You in a pair of cutoffs with your hair in braids.” He grinned. “I’d die a happy man.”
    Lily’s heart quickened. She was leaning into him when the phone rang again. Startled, she disentangled her hand from his and