Their rivalry, although often keen, had always been friendly. Reba liked to think that they brought out the best in one another. Each challenged the other to give one hundred percent to their individual endeavors.
Until Reba started dating John Goddard.
Even saying his name mentally produced a hard lump in her throat. Briefly Reba closed her eyes until the pain and bitterness passed.
In retrospect she was willing to admit, albeit grudgingly, that part of John’s attraction had been that Vicki had been attracted to him, too. Her sister had joked that she’d been the one to see John first. Her teasing had taken on a decidedly sharp tone as Reba and John’s relationship turned more serious.
Later, when Reba was head over heels in love with John, she suspected Vicki’s feelings for the architect went beyond “sisterly” love. She didn’t realize how accurate that impression was until—
“I do so wish you girls would settle your differences.”
“It’s settled, Mother,” Reba said starkly, emphatically. “As settled as it’s going to get.”
“But Vicki’s your sister.”
“Not anymore.”
“Reba, sweetheart, why do you continue to carry this grudge when John is out of your life? Out of Vicki’s. He’s married to someone else now. Neither one of you has talked to the man in years, and yet you continue to wage war with your sister.”
Reba closed her eyes, hating it when her mother insisted on dredging up the past. For her part, she was perfectly content to leave matters as they were.
“You can’t go on like this.” It was the same argument, second verse. Her mother played the familiar warped record each Christmas. Frankly, Reba didn’t want to hear it. Nothing her mother said or did would ever cancel the heartache and pain her own sister had brought into her life.
What she said was true. John was out of the picture, but the blame for what had happened fell squarely, solidly, on Vicki’s shoulders.
Reba had wiped both Vicki and John from her life. The two deserved each other. She’d fully expected Vicki to take advantage of the situation and marry John herself when she stepped aside. It had come as something of a surprise when her sister had married Doug Minder a year later. But then, it really wasn’t much of a puzzle. Vicki hadn’t truly been interested in John. She just hadn’t wanted Reba to have him. Her sister had achieved what she’d set out to do, and that was to ruin any chance Reba had of finding happiness.
“I do wish you’d reconsider,” her mother said, breaking into her thoughts once more. “If you won’t do it for your father or me, then do it for your aunt and uncle. They think the world of you and Vicki.”
“I can’t,” she said, and because she knew her response was an invitation to argue, she added, “I won’t.” She did feel a certain amount of regret, but she refused to turn back time. Nothing her sister said or did now would make up for the bitterness of her betrayal. They might have been competitive, but they were still sisters. Flesh and blood didn’t do what Vicki had done to her.
The silence stretched until it felt as if the tension would snap.
“It’d mean so much to your father and me.”
Reba closed her eyes. “Mom, please stop.”
“Don’t you realize how difficult this is on us?” her mother whispered. “We love you both.”
“I know, Mom, and I’m sorry, I really am, but I can’t share the holidays with you if Vicki’s there, too. Not the season of love, peace, and goodwill. My presence would be a lie. I’m sure Vicki and her family would be more comfortable without me.”
Again Reba felt her mother’s disappointment, but she saw no reason to give her parents hope. As far as she was concerned, she had no sister.
He was back.
Reba’s gaze followed the man she’d seen a moment earlier. He’d gone into the grocery store and now walked out carrying a single bag. He paused, scratched the side of his head, and continued toward the parking lot. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he’d forgotten where he’d parked his car. He was just what she needed, Reba mused. Comic relief.
“But, Reba…”
Her mother was unwilling to drop the subject of Christmas. This was bound to be the first of many such conversations.
“Mom, don’t. This is hard enough. Let me know if Vicki wants to come Christmas Eve or Christmas Day and I’ll be there when she won’t. If that isn’t agreeable, I’ll simply skip Christmas this year.” The holidays weren’t that important to her. Not any longer.