Read The Tidewater Sisters: Postlude to The Prayer Box for Free Online Page A

someone’s gate. The SUV shudders as if it’s trying to catch a breath of the muggy summer air. “I just . . . I just want to wrap my hands around her neck and squeeze right now.”
    “Are you sure that’d be a good idea?”
    “Oh, it’s a good idea. It’s my best idea.” My fingers knead the steering wheel like a stress ball, building muscle.
    “I mean, not that I won’t come bail you out of jail for the wedding, but . . .”
    A grudging chuckle wrenches free, and a groan comes after it. I’m reminded that I should be home enjoying the wedding countdown. Paul and the Seashell Shop girls will make sure everything is shipshape, but I want to be the one doing it. This is my once-in-a-lifetime. My forever. “Ohhh . . . don’t make me laugh, okay? I’m just so . . . mad.”
    “I know, but what I meant was, take a minute to think things through. Right now, Gina probably doesn’t have a clue that you’re onto her. You still have the element of surprise on your side. Once you tip her off, she’ll start into evade-and-escape mode, and you know where things’ll go from there.”
    I pull in air, let it out slowly, feel my anger-stiffened limbs turning to rubber. “You’re right.”
    “Yeah, I’m good that way.”
    “S-stop.” Another chuckle forces its way out. I just want to be home with Paul, curled up in his strong arms, but I know I can’t leave now. The farmhouse, the mulberry orchard, the eighty acres around it are mine. Mine. I want them. I have to save them somehow. I have to make someone—whoever has the power here—see that my sister has committed fraud and that she has been doing it for years.
    Gina could go to jail for this. That thought hadn’t even occurred to me until now. It comes with the weirdest stomach-stab of fear. Am I willing to take that route? To . . . prosecute my sister?
    I feel myself shrinking away from the possibility, reconsidering my mad dash to the car dealership in Greenville. I sit staring across a farm field as another bank of clouds rolls in, casting shadow. The sharp edges fade.
    “Honey?” Paul’s voice presses through the paralysis. “You still there?”
    “Paul . . . I just really need to think about all of this. And . . . and see what I can find out. I’m going to get a motel and hang around until tomorrow, when the tax office, the courthouse, and the lawyer’s offices are open. Okay?”
    I expect him to protest, but he says, “Whatever you need. Listen, I’ll get Sandy to look after Zoey and J.T. for a couple days, and I’ll come—”
    “No, Paul, I’ll be okay. I promise.” Paul has Summer Sea Camp to teach, but aside from that, I still feel myself desperately seeking containment. A way to keep this life from spilling over into the one Paul and I have made. “But will you do something for me? A couple of things, actually?”
    “Do you even have to ask?”
    I have that sense of being gushy in love again. And with it comes the reminder that this is what love and family should mean. A covenant of protection and care and always wanting the best things for one another. Love doesn’t use other people. It doesn’t steal, kill, destroy. What has been passed off as love between my sister and me over the years has never been love. It’s more like codependence.
    “The neighbor told me that Gina’s dating a guy who owns a big car dealership over in Greenville and that she apparently works there with him. Merritt Cars. It’s on Sandpiper Road. That’s where Laura sent the last rent check for the farmland. Could you call there and see if you can figure out when Gina works? Just in case she’s the one answering the phone. She won’t recognize your voice. Also, could you see if Vince can give us any more information about what comes next? What I have to do to straighten this whole thing out. . . . And what will happen to Gina if I do? She’s apparently been forging my name on checks and legal documents for years, telling people I had