Read My Sister's Voice for Free Online

couldn’t give her what she wanted. Kelly did get to leave. She did get a beach and a cool aunt. She didn’t have to smell Margaret’s morning breath or get used to new kids every year, or put up with a dozen new staff members who wanted to be “friends” only to skip out the first chance they got. The truth was, Lacey cried for a week straight after Kelly left. Not because she missed her, but because she was left behind. Lacey would’ve given up one of her good legs to go to California with Kelly. Then maybe she would’ve loved her like a sister. There was no use going into old history now.
    “I know you’re up to something,” Kelly said. “And you know I’ll find out, so you might as well just tell me.”
    “Interpreters are supposed to be neutral,” Lacey said. “Not stick their nose in where it doesn’t belong.” The little girl ran over to Kelly, wrapped her arms around Kelly’s leg—Lacey couldn’t remember if it was the good or the bad—and smothered it in kisses. Kelly ruffled her hair.
    “You don’t know what you’re missing,” Kelly said. “Family is everything. Without them I’d be nothing.”

    Without them, I’d be nothing . Who was Kelly kidding? She’d be a one-legged pain in the ass, just like she was now. So much for being a professional interpreter. Lacey hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, but it had to be done. There was no way Lacey would be able to keep this sister-impostor secret if Kelly got wind of it. Now she had only three hours until her anniversary dinner, and she still didn’t even have a present for Alan. Maybe she would paint him something. That was it. She could whip something out in an hour, something abstract. She should have thought of it before; Alan loved everything she painted. It was one of the things she loved about him.
    She would go home, grab clothes to change into for dinner, go to the studio, paint like a madwoman, then change into dinner clothes, go straight to Benjamin Books, then race to dinner. She was working up a sweat just thinking about it.
    Lacey arrived home and walked through their tiny backyard and around to an enclosed porch. When she opened the door and stepped in, she found Alan, stretched out on the His and Her Adirondack chairs they bought at a festival last summer. She was hoping he wouldn’t be home yet. He had a bottle of beer for himself and a glass of wine waiting for her. A jar of fresh daisies sat on the little table in between the chairs. Lacey could have sworn they weren’t there this morning.
    “Welcome home, beautiful,” Alan said. He rose to greet her. She gave him a brief kiss. He took her helmet from her and hung it on a hook by the door.
    “You’re home early,” she said. She covered her annoyance with a smile. It wasn’t his fault she had a woman to stalk. He returned her smile, but his beat hers by a million men marching.
    “It’s a special day,” Alan said. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him. Lacey couldn’t believe how attractive she still found him, how fast the six years had flown by, the last three of which they’d lived together, still going strong despite her constant fear of being swallowed whole. He was tall, a little on the skinny side, and blessed with a mop of curly brown hair. She loved his chest and biceps best; they were strong and lean, and always there for her. He had a tattoo on his left shoulder, his parents’ initials in sign language. She loved him. She loved touching his tattoo. She loved kneading her fingers through his soft curls. She loved that his hair smelled like pears and occasionally sawdust. She loved how he would get a little flush of red along the side of his neck when he was nervous. It was there now, a faint line rising from his collarbone. She had to resist the urge to kiss his neck, lick away the red. It would lead to other things, things she didn’t have time for. Why was he so nervous? Who would have thought she would end up with a hearing