Jane felt horrible about how she had handled things with Skye. It was all wrong. The internet had told her so. Pushing her to get help? Wrong. Getting angry? Wrong? Crying? So very, very wrong. She walked slowly back to her family as she scrolled through an article that detailed how entirely she'd screwed up.
It wasn't like she'd needed to read about it to know that anyway. Skye had made it quite obvious. In the end, she had said nothing Jane. She'd given her one last pain-filled glare and abandoned her in the hallway. Jane had let her, which was possibly her only decent decision. She could only hope Skye was with Jeffrey, but she had no idea.
She re-entered the sunroom and all eyes were on her.
"Where did she go?" asked Rosalind.
Jane only shrugged. She couldn't give them a concrete answer. "Maybe to Jeffrey, I don't know."
"I'm sure she did," said Mr. Penderwick, more hopeful than confident.
"Is she okay?" asked Batty.
Jane's eyes were stinging. She shook her head. "I messed up. I should have let her go. She's angry, and now she's mad at me too."
"Skye's not mad at you, Jane," said Nick.
"She is! She was swearing at me so much. She said she doesn't want me around." Jane's voice was weak. She'd been more hurt by that than she had let on. In a lot of ways, Skye was her best friend. Jane felt like she'd lost her.
"Jane." Mr. Penderwick's tone demanded her attention. "Skye will say a lot of things she doesn't mean. We can't afford to take them to heart."
Iantha placed a reassuring hand on Mr. Penderwick's arm. They all knew that Skye was still hardly talking to him. Jeffrey had spoken with him probably three times as much as she had. She only said something when she felt like she had to. Mr. Penderwick pretended that he didn't notice. That was what Skye wanted. Jane knew that he did.
"That doesn't—it still hurts," Jane said as she started to cry. This was the most inadequate she had ever felt. She'd never been so blatantly unwanted. She chided herself for being so concerned with that. It wasn't important. It certainly wasn't a real issue. She should focus on the fact that Skye had survived. She was back. Nothing else should matter. If Jane wanted to fret, she could center her worries around her sister's struggle to overcome sexual assault. She should have been thinking about why Skye had barked at her so viciously, not about how what she'd said had hurt her feelings. She was disgustingly self-centered.
"She'll come around," said Tommy.
They were all watching her sob. She badly wanted to shut up, but it was out of her control. Once the dam broke, there was no stopping the water. "No she won't," Jane wailed. "She's going to realize that I'm the reason this happened to her, and she'll hate me. She won't want to see me. Ever. She already doesn't."
It sounded melodramatic, but it wasn't. Jane would never forgive herself for sending Skye to Arundel. She'd tried and tried and tried, but there was nothing that could soothe her monumental guilt. She knew that was why Skye had singled her out as the one she "didn't want around." It had to be. Rosalind irritated Skye, Batty she ignored, but it was Jane she couldn't stand to be with. Jane should have made the trip to Arundel. Then Dexter would have raped her instead and Skye wouldn't have had to feel this way.
Except he wouldn't have. Dexter would not have touched her because Jeffrey was not in love with Jane. She'd sent Skye straight into a fate that was so much crueler than her own would have been if she had been taken in her place. She didn't think about how Skye had had a power to protect Jeffrey that Jane simply did not. She didn't think about how if she had been kidnapped with him, odds were they would both be dead. She was too wrapped up in her blameworthiness, and even if she had considered those things, it probably would not have helped to calm her. Nothing could when she was faced with the knowledge that her sister had been raped. Brutally.
A searing pain shot through Jane's chest and she could no longer stand. She dropped to her hands and knees as wave after wave of it tore through her heart. It strangled her sobs; she forced them out between the peaks of her chest pain. It spread to her shoulder. Her elbow collapsed and she fell onto her forearm. It was impossible to breathe. Her stomach was crawling up her throat. If she died like this, Jane might see that as justice.
She wasn't dying, no matter how much it felt it or how much she wished that she was. She straightened her arm and cried out as pain stabbed again through her shoulder. She sobbed some more, for Skye, for Jeffrey, and the utter ruination of her once perfect family.
Her parents had both stood up, but it was Nick who made it to the floor beside her. He didn't say anything, but he curled his hands under her arms and gently pulled her backwards until she was sitting up. He pressed his hand against her spine, silently telling her to straighten her back. He took her hands and placed them on her head. It opened her lungs. They sang gratefully as they welcomed air. Her pain slowly shrank away into nothing but a dull ache. Her sobs quieted and her tears flowed silently. Jane spit bile from her mouth.
"Here." Nick handed her a half-empty glass of water.
She had the uncharacteristic urge to throw it in his face. He was so calm all of the time. She didn't understand it, so it pissed her off. Thankfully, she suppressed that temptation; Nick stayed perfectly dry. She gulped down the water and coughed on it. She tossed the cup away and it clattered on the floor.
"How are you okay? You always are," she said, snippier than she than she'd intended.
"I'm not. I just hide it," said Nick.
"How?" She would love to learn.
"Practice, Jane. Practice." He settled in front of her and draped his arms over his knees. "It's not a skill. I learned how to do it because I've seen my share of bad."
Jane dried her tears from her face and forced herself to focus on what he said to her.
"I've done all of this." He waved his hand at Jane to indicate her panicking. He dragged his palm across his chin as he decided if he should say more. He sighed. "The first person I saw die I shared a bunk with. About three years ago. I was behind him in the convoy and his truck drove straight over an IED. He got blown to pieces. We didn't even find all of him. The other guy lost his arm and half of his face, but he actually made it. He was lucky."
Jane stared at him. Nick never talked about Iraq. Never.
"That wrecked me. It really did. I threw up for two days while I was on patrol. I still dream about it."
The already heavy atmosphere weighed even more on all of their shoulders. No one liked to think that Nick had actually seen war.
"It's cooling off overseas, casualties are down," said Nick. "But I've still lost 36 people. I don't panic when it happens anymore, but I have my moments. Even when I'm home."
Jane was speechless and confused. She wracked her brain for the right thing to say. She'd always seen him as a superhero, but she supposed even they had their demons. "Why are you telling me this?" She finally asked, sounding broken.
"Because," he paused as he tried to figure out why exactly he had. "What you just did is normal, and it absolutely one hundred percent sucks like nothing else, but you'll make it through. You'll come out stronger on the other side, I promise. I know."
"Stronger," Jane mused. "But not better."
"No," Nick agreed. "Not better at all."
She did feel comforted, in a strange way. Now she hurt for Nick too. He sacrificed so much of his life. He didn't panic here because he didn't think he could afford to. He'd taken up his role as a calming influence because he was the only one not being introduced to all the horrible that the world had to offer. It was cruel for him to have to bare that responsibility. He'd calmed them all at one point or another, even Mrs. Tifton. Jane wondered how much that weighed him down. He was on leave; this was supposed to be his break from awful. His deployment was almost up. Six more months and he would be back from Iraq for good. It was too long. Jane didn't think she'd be able to stand watching him go.
Nick helped Jane to her feet. She clung so tightly to him he bore all of her weight. It was easy for him; he held her up without complaint. Physically and mentally, as he always had.
"I didn't know, Nick," she said.
"Yeah, well, part of the job, I guess. War's ugly." He changed the subject back to her. "It'll work out. Skye loves you. It's part of the reason she'll say things like that. She struggling and she's lashing out, but she knows you'll still be around when she needs you. It's kind of ironic, but that's what makes you an easy target. She knows you're not going anywhere, no matter what she says."
That made Jane's heart swell. If that was true, then being hurt but what Skye aid was a waste of her time. She didn't want to be yelled at (who did?), but if it meant that her sister did know how much Jane cared for her, then she might have done something right after all. She thought it was painfully poetic.
Nick pulled away from Jane and pointed a finger at her father. "Same goes for you, Mr. Pen."
"You're a smart man. Very wise," said Mr. Penderwick.
Nick shook his head. "Just experienced." He got surprisingly quiet and said, "Why don't you ask Tommy what happened when I came home the first time?"
Tommy's eyes widened a fraction. "Oh so we're telling that story now?"
Nick shrugged. "About time."
Rosalind looked back and forth between the two Geigers. She settled her gaze on Tommy. "What is he talking about?"
Tommy watched Nick for some sort of silent confirmation. When he got it, he said, "He got drunk and beat me up."
A very stunned silence followed.
Nick fended it off. "Absolutely I did. All he did was ask me what was wrong."
Rosalind's mouth hung open with gaping confusion. "What?" She whispered. She stared straight at Tommy and raised her voice to its normal volume. "How did I not notice?"
Tommy laughed. He was unphased by this conversation, like it wasn't a bad memory for him. "Cause he was smart and he didn't hit my face. Also you did notice. He fractured my elbow."
Tommy had had his arm in his arm in a sling for a portion of his sophomore year. Jane could remember that.
"Wait, but you said—" Rosalind started.
"That I got hurt at practice," Tommy finished. "Yeah I did."
Rosalind covered her mouth. Jane's stomach turned.
This was a three year secret; Nick was finally deciding to come clean and he did so completely. "It was really bad. The kind of thing that puts you in jail for assault. I just about knocked him out."
"He would have except our mom walked in. I barely remember. I was really out of it by that point, but damn Nick, the way she screamed at you." He seemed to find this funny. Rosalind was certainly not amused, and Jane felt a little sick herself.
"Oh yeah, she was a whole new person," said Nick. He scanned the faces of every Penderwick. Jane thought he looked scared. He had knocked himself down a peg or two, no longer a superhero and instead a scarred soldier. It didn't lower her opinion of him; it only changed it. It opened her eyes.
"She couldn't get me to stop," said Nick. "She had to get our dad, and he dragged me off of him. I wasn't having a fit, I know exactly what I was doing. I'd beat him so bad Tommy couldn't even stand and I was seriously still trying to kick at him."
"Bitch," said Tommy. He was teasing. He wasn't bitter at all. Jane was flabbergasted.
"Shut up," said Nick. "My dad threw me out. Literally, shoved me out the front door and locked me out. They didn't let me back in until they were back from the ER. I was sober by then, slept it off in the backyard."
"We worked our story out on the way there. I told doctor what I told you guys, but he didn't believe me. I wasn't bruising right for a sports injury. He made my parents leave so he could ask me if they beat me, if I felt safe at home and all that. I'd never lied so hard in my life, but I didn't want Nick to get arrested, so no way I was honest. I was freaking out," said Tommy. "Nick wasn't allowed alone with me for the rest of his leave. Not really at all, actually."
Nick nodded. "Because I'd been straight up abusive. We roughhouse, but that was abuse. No other word. It's the worst thing I've ever done."
Tommy snorted. "Yeah thanks a lot."
Nick smiled a bit, but it wasn't a happy one. It was obvious to Jane that the memory bothered him more than it did Tommy (not hard since Tommy was, somehow, zero percent bothered). "But Tommy still talks to me. I knew he would. It made him easy to pick on."
"Jump on," Tommy corrected. "And pummel. Like a savage."
Nick grimaced. "Yeah. I've been wanting to tell all of you for a while, but now what I'm trying to say is that Skye is probably doing the same thing, even if she doesn't notice."
This story did not comfort Jane the way that his first had. It was too horrible, because of Tommy and because of Nick. He had been so screwed up by what he'd seen that he'd carried that baggage home with him. Jane had known Nick her entire life, and she hadn't noticed. No Penderwick had.
But it did help her to better understand Skye. Nick had been successful in that respect. That was enough of a victory. Jane wondered if he would ever tell Skye this tale. She didn't know if she wanted him to.
"Why didn't you tell me this?" Rosalind asked Tommy.
"I didn't…" Tommy caught the icy stare she was sending at Nick. "Rosalind." He called her attention back to him. When she looked at him, her eyes softened. They grew sad. Tommy smiled at her and put his hand on her neck. He kissed her forehead. "Because I didn't want you to hate my brother. Try not to now, please."
"I don't," said Rosalind, contradicting the way that she glowered at Nick.
Tommy grinned. He flicked her nose. "Stop looking at him like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're going to rip my head off," said Nick. Jane was happy that it didn't seem to upset him. Three years was a lot of time. This had long been worked out between the two brothers.
"I'm not," Rosalind grumbled. "I won't."
"I will have to stop you if you try," Tommy teased. "I like Nick, for some reason."
"That's incredibly touching," said Nick.
"Best you're going to get," said Tommy.
"Uh huh. I hope you all know I was really ashamed by that. As soon as I sobered up I was, maybe a little before," said Nick. "But I didn't apologize for it until I was back in Iraq."
"I didn't care. I wasn't mad, just scared," said Tommy. He poked Rosalind's side. She squirmed and then wrapped her arm around him. Tommy squeezed her shoulders. "For Nick, by the way. Not of him."
"Not even a little?" said Nick.
"Yeah, you don't scare me, sorry. I can take a punch. Or twenty."
Nick laughed. "I'll give you that. You sure can." He got serious again. "I've cried about four times in my life. That was the most."
"You sobbed like a baby," said Tommy.
"Suck me. And Rosalind, if it makes you feel better, I told him he's free to clock me anytime. He has yet to deliver."
"Oh I will," Tommy promised.
"I'm starting to doubt that," said Nick. "How 'bout right now? I think it'll make Rosy happy."
"Nick, no," Rosalind protested. She was starting to feel bad.
"It's cool. The protective girlfriend thing works for you," said Nick. "Let's go, Tommy."
Tommy smiled broadly. His phone was in his hand. He tossed it up once, then slid it into his pocket. "Kay."
"Do not," Rosalind groaned.
"Sorry," said Tommy. He let go of her.
"Oh my god." Rosalind crossed her arms, unimpressed.
Nick stepped away from Jane so she was a safe distance from him. "Let him have this. It's the only time he can hit me without getting his ass beat for it."
"That's it," said Tommy. He really did punch Nick, right across the face. Nick stumbled back a few steps but managed to keep his balance. Tommy shook out his hand.
Nick spun his jaw in a circle. Jane heard it pop from almost ten feet away. "Six out of ten," he said.
"You asshole," said Tommy, laughing. He charged at Nick.
Nick feigned right and then sprinted into the yard. Tommy ran after him.
"I hate them," said Rosalind.
Outside, Tommy caught up with Nick and tackled him.
"That is exactly why I always wanted girls," said Mr. Penderwick. He shook his head, disapproving but still amused.
"I am so glad Ben has sisters," Iantha agreed.
Tommy held his hand out to help Nick up. Nick grabbed it, but he flipped Tommy over his shoulder. They both got to their feet, shoving each other and laughing as they came back inside.
"Are you done?" said Rosalind.
"Yep." Tommy grabbed someone's water off the table and finished it.
Rosalind rolled her eyes, but she surprised everyone by giving Nick a hug. "I'm sorry about the war," she said.
"Oh," he said, startled. "Thanks, Rosy."
Rosalind pushed his shoulder. "I don't hate you. Just don't do that again."
"I won't. I'm better now, and I don't drink anymore."
"Okay," said Rosalind. "Then we're good."
Nick flopped onto a sofa, still winded. Batty sat next to him and he put his arm around her. "You both have an apology coming," he said to Jane and Mr. Penderwick. "Skye's just embarrassed, but I promise you, she's sorry."
That was perhaps the weirdest thing anyone had ever done to make Jane feel better. It was probably why it had worked so well. For the time being, Nick knew Skye better than the rest of them. Jane smiled. She didn't need an apology. She wasn't completely lost anymore. She would enjoy that while it lasted.
Skye left Jeffrey for only a few minutes (she needed something to eat since she had forgone her dinner), but on the way back, she still crossed Mrs. Tifton coming out of his room. She knew Jeffrey's mother was keeping a close eye on him. She always seemed to find him whenever he had a moment alone. That was a good thing, but it irritated Skye. It meant that she had to see more of Mrs. Tifton than she would have liked. She didn't care to hate her anymore, and realistically she had no reason to, but the woman made her uncomfortable. They seemed to have that in common.
Mrs. Tifton greeted Skye awkwardly and kept walking. She was prepared to leave without another word.
That was why Skye was so surprised when she stopped her by saying, "I have a question for you."
Mrs. Tifton turned expectedly.
"An awkward one, so sorry in advance." Skye had had this on her mind intermittently for the past week. "I was going to ask Iantha, but then I didn't want to and I thought…" Skye stopped before she rambled. Mrs. Tifton watched her patiently. "Jeffrey was an accident."
"Is that your question?" Mrs. Tifton asked, confused.
Skye shook her head. "No, I know that. I just…when did you know?"
"Know that I was…" Mrs. Tifton began to clarify.
"Pregnant. Yeah." Skye shuffled her feet.
"Oh." Mrs. Tifton was alarmed. "Skye, do you think that you are?"
"No. Maybe? I could be," said Skye. She felt herself blush a deep red. "It's not like I have symptoms or anything, and I took the pills, but I'm scared it was too late. I know I won't know for a while, I'm just wondering how long that will be."
"I was about eight weeks along," said Mrs. Tifton. The look she was giving her made Skye want to die. She kind of regretted asking. It was the closest she'd gotten to talking about her rape to anyone but Jeffrey, and it was with his mother, of all people. She wanted to crawl into the wall.
"Hopefully you'll get your period sooner," said Mrs. Tifton.
Skye shook her head again. "I'm not regular anyway. I skip months all the time. I might not get it even if I'm not, and then I'll freak out."
"You can take the tests earlier. After about three or four weeks, I believe. I can get them for you, if you don't want to ask your family," Mrs. Tifton offered.
"Could you? Thanks," said Skye. She squeezed her fist around the thumb of her opposite hand, trying to crush her fears. "What do I do if I am?"
"Whatever you want. Your family will support any decision you make, if you have to. But maybe cross that bridge when you get there. You might not be pregnant," said Mrs. Tifton.
She was right. Skye shouldn't worry in advance. It was hard not to when there could quite possibly be a baby forming inside of her. Dexter hadn't taken any precautions against that. He'd had two opportunities to impregnate her. It wasn't a lot, but Skye didn't like those odds.
"Okay, thank you. That's it," she said. She wasn't sure what she'd gotten out of that conversation, if anything.
"Can I give you a hug?"
"Alright."
Skye didn't really want her to, but she was surprised by how much she liked it when she did. She realized that Mrs. Tifton was the only person that had been touched by Dexter the way that she had. The context was different, but Skye doubted that Mrs. Tifton was any happier about that now than she was. It made Skye feel somewhat better, but it also connected her with Mrs. Tifton in a way that she sorely wished it didn't.
Mrs. Tifton let go of her at the exact right time, just before the hug had gone on for uncomfortably long.
"Jeffrey and I will be moving soon. I don't know where to, but I'd imagine near Boston," she said.
Skye hadn't expected to hear that from her, though she had thought that they should. "Have you told Jeffrey that?"
"I haven't. I was considering it, but I just decided right now. We're moving. I'll find a realtor today." Mrs. Tifton looked around the hallway. She touched her hand to the wall. "My father grew up here too, you know. I don't want to leave, but I have to."
"Yes. You do," said Skye.
"We can't move on here. I need Jeffrey out of his house." Mrs. Tifton sounded a little forlorn.
Skye only nodded.
"I thought you'd like to know," said Mrs. Tifton.
"Yeah, thanks." Skye wasn't sure what she was thanking her for.
"He's waiting for you." Mrs. Tifton sighed. "I think he's tired of me."
"It's not that," said Skye.
"Then what?"
"He wants to be independent, as much as he can anyway. You guys don't really allow that. He had so many days where he couldn't do anything for himself. I literally had to feed him because…well, just because. So if he wants to take five minutes trying to get water or move to the tv, anything like that, you've got to let him. He's embarrassed that you do everything for him."
Mrs. Tifton was taken aback. "I didn't know. Is that what he said?"
"Yes," Skye lied. Jeffrey hadn't told her anything.
"If you want to make him happy, the next time you go in there, act like there's nothing wrong with him," said Skye. She felt like she was coaching Mrs. Tifton. She didn't really have the authority to do that, but the words tumbled out of her. She was so tired of everyone victimizing Jeffrey. "Say you want to move, but don't talk about why. He knows. Be excited about it, show him houses you've found, or look for some online with him. He'll like that."
"That seems insensitive."
"It's not, and if he starts to feel that way, he'll tell you. He thinks he's a burden, trust me." Skye felt that way herself, and her family didn't fawn over her the way that Mrs. Tifton did over Jeffrey.
"I believe you, but I don't think I can do that. I want to know if he's okay. I'm so worried, all of the time," Mrs. Tifton fretted, but she did consider what Skye was saying.
"Don't ask him if he is, he's just going to lie to you. I've watched him do it, I do it. He wants to feel like you're spending time with him because you like him, not because you're worried," said Skye. She was growing more confident in her advice the longer that she spoke. She was shocked Mrs. Tifton was still listening to her. It proved how at a loss she was.
"Of course I like him," Mrs. Tifton sniffed.
"I know."
"What am I supposed to say? I can't think past how hurt he is."
"But that's all he wants to do, so you have to help him with that. When you babysit him, you just remind him what happened."
Mrs. Tifton silently contemplated all of that. She was close to tears, but she held them at bay.
"And the other thing is, he'll come around faster and tell you what he went through if he thinks that you're ready. He's not yet, but it'll help if he thinks you are." Skye reflected her own feelings in that statement. Maybe Jeffrey felt the same, maybe he didn't, but Skye knew that she absolutely could not talk to her family without breaking hearts. So she wouldn't. She might not ever.
"What do you talk about, then?" Mrs. Tifton asked impatiently.
Skye hesitated. She and Jeffrey were different. They were open with each other, mostly. They actually discussed what had happened. And they spend a lot of their time making out. Not all the time, though. "Everything," she said. "TV shows, music, Rosalind and Tommy, you guys. The fact that you decorated the guest room like a hotel."
"Excuse me," said Mrs. Tifton.
"What, you did. It's not homey at all," said Skye. "He makes fun of me a lot. We'll talk about anything. Earlier I was trying to teach him calculus."
"Calculus. Really."
Skye shrugged. "It gave us something to do. That's all you're looking for here."
"You make it sound so easy."
"Talk about Alec. He wants to know about that. Just tell him about your whole relationship, he'll be entertained," said Skye.
That made Mrs. Tifton blush. "That's a good idea."
"I know it is. That story about his saxophone was fantastic. Please have more."
"I have plenty."
"There you go."
Mrs. Tifton actually smiled at her. "Okay. If that's what will help him, then I'll try all of that. Thank you, Skye."
"Sure."
Mrs. Tifton started to go, then didn't. "You know, I've never been able to easily talk to Jeffrey."
"That's because you don't let him talk. Jeffrey doesn't shut up."
"That's what Alec said," said Mrs. Tifton. "He's awfully quiet around me."
"You don't give him a window. All it takes is one open ended question. If you asked him if you should paint the walls blue he could run with that for ten minutes if he thought you were interested."
Mrs. Tifton shook her head sadly. "You know my son so much better than I do."
"Don't take it personally. I know him better than everyone," said Skye.
"I don't disapprove of that anymore."
Skye laughed at that. "I wouldn't care if you did."
"No, I didn't think you would." Mrs. Tifton smiled to herself. "Good night, Skye."
She left Skye amazed that for the first time, she'd had a full conversation with Mrs. Tifton without wanting to slam her head through a window.