microscope. Allie was like a drop of blood between two slides. Something to be coded, checked, and recorded. Anyone could do the research, find the Lee Arrendale State Prison home page, and enter her name or inmate number. Allie’s color photo would appear, along with her height, weight, birth date, information about her incarceration, and current sentence.
Emma scanned the details she knew by heart. Nothing had changed, except the release date had been verified. Added. And made official.
Allie was home. Allie, who used to be perfect in every way. Allie, the A student. Allie, the great mother. The favorite daughter.
But in the ten years Allie had been behind bars, Emma had become the good daughter, the one everyone counted on and respected for her sacrifices. She’d taken care of Caroline as if she were her own. She’d worked hard, done everything she was supposed to. She was now the shining star, the example to follow.
And Emma wasn’t about to let that change.
No one—not Allie, not her parents, not the people in Brunswick—would ever make her feel inadequate again.
March 2006
Allie and Ben were lying in the backyard hammock, heads on opposite ends, swaying to make any breeze in the still, Georgia afternoon. For a Saturday in late March, the unseasonably warm weather, above eighty degrees, had drawn everyone in Brunswick outside to enjoy the weekend. Allie’s small black lab, Molly, still just a puppy, with her shiny coat, dark eyes, and large paws she’d grow into, lay under the knotted ropes, dozing and shaded from the sun while Emma flipped through the latest issues of Vogue and Cosmo .
“Your MCAT scores are stellar. You’re going to get in,” Ben said to Allie. He waved a hand as if to dismiss her question. “We could pack a lunch and go to Driftwood Beach. Forget about medical school, for a few hours at least.”
Allie smiled. “Thanks. Wish you were on the admissions committee.”
“What are you worried about?” Emma asked, raising her head an inch to look at her sister. She propped herself up in the chaise lounge on one elbow, grabbed the bottle of sunscreen, and squeezed a creamy dollop onto her open palm. As she rubbed it into her skin, warmed by the sun, the lotion scented the air with coconut. “You just mailed off the applications yesterday.”
“I know.” Allie wrinkled her nose. “Even applying this early, replies can take a year. I might get a call in September for an interview to join next year’s class.”
Emma finished coating her skin with sunscreen and dropped back into the lounge chair. She stared up at the canopy of leaves, tracing the shelter of thick branches and gnarled trunk. Why couldn’t her sister just be normal? Couldn’t she relax for one day?
“What are the numbers for a first-year med school class at Emory?” Ben asked.
“Five thousand students apply, more or less.” Allie paused. “They interview seven hundred, give or take. From there, they pick one hundred and forty, half of them women. Not exactly a slam dunk.”
“If anyone can do it twice, you can,” Ben argued. “Besides, you’ve got the single mom thing going. You’re twenty-six years old, you’re smart, you’re a hard worker.”
Emma twisted her lips in frustration. Did her sister have to have validation all of the time?
“I was twenty when I applied the first time.” Allie lowered her voice. “A lot of things have changed since then. More competition—”
“They accepted you before.” Ben brushed away her excuse with a wave of his hand.
“Even if you don’t get in,” Emma interrupted, “Mom can keep Caroline and you can still work at Dad’s office.” She huffed a sigh, then went back to flipping through the magazine, smoothing down the shiny pages. She examined the lithe models, imagining how one of the gauzy dresses and strappy sandals might look against her skin and thinking it would surely attract some attention at one of the parties on St. Simons.
From the corner
Emma scanned the details she knew by heart. Nothing had changed, except the release date had been verified. Added. And made official.
Allie was home. Allie, who used to be perfect in every way. Allie, the A student. Allie, the great mother. The favorite daughter.
But in the ten years Allie had been behind bars, Emma had become the good daughter, the one everyone counted on and respected for her sacrifices. She’d taken care of Caroline as if she were her own. She’d worked hard, done everything she was supposed to. She was now the shining star, the example to follow.
And Emma wasn’t about to let that change.
No one—not Allie, not her parents, not the people in Brunswick—would ever make her feel inadequate again.
March 2006
Allie and Ben were lying in the backyard hammock, heads on opposite ends, swaying to make any breeze in the still, Georgia afternoon. For a Saturday in late March, the unseasonably warm weather, above eighty degrees, had drawn everyone in Brunswick outside to enjoy the weekend. Allie’s small black lab, Molly, still just a puppy, with her shiny coat, dark eyes, and large paws she’d grow into, lay under the knotted ropes, dozing and shaded from the sun while Emma flipped through the latest issues of Vogue and Cosmo .
“Your MCAT scores are stellar. You’re going to get in,” Ben said to Allie. He waved a hand as if to dismiss her question. “We could pack a lunch and go to Driftwood Beach. Forget about medical school, for a few hours at least.”
Allie smiled. “Thanks. Wish you were on the admissions committee.”
“What are you worried about?” Emma asked, raising her head an inch to look at her sister. She propped herself up in the chaise lounge on one elbow, grabbed the bottle of sunscreen, and squeezed a creamy dollop onto her open palm. As she rubbed it into her skin, warmed by the sun, the lotion scented the air with coconut. “You just mailed off the applications yesterday.”
“I know.” Allie wrinkled her nose. “Even applying this early, replies can take a year. I might get a call in September for an interview to join next year’s class.”
Emma finished coating her skin with sunscreen and dropped back into the lounge chair. She stared up at the canopy of leaves, tracing the shelter of thick branches and gnarled trunk. Why couldn’t her sister just be normal? Couldn’t she relax for one day?
“What are the numbers for a first-year med school class at Emory?” Ben asked.
“Five thousand students apply, more or less.” Allie paused. “They interview seven hundred, give or take. From there, they pick one hundred and forty, half of them women. Not exactly a slam dunk.”
“If anyone can do it twice, you can,” Ben argued. “Besides, you’ve got the single mom thing going. You’re twenty-six years old, you’re smart, you’re a hard worker.”
Emma twisted her lips in frustration. Did her sister have to have validation all of the time?
“I was twenty when I applied the first time.” Allie lowered her voice. “A lot of things have changed since then. More competition—”
“They accepted you before.” Ben brushed away her excuse with a wave of his hand.
“Even if you don’t get in,” Emma interrupted, “Mom can keep Caroline and you can still work at Dad’s office.” She huffed a sigh, then went back to flipping through the magazine, smoothing down the shiny pages. She examined the lithe models, imagining how one of the gauzy dresses and strappy sandals might look against her skin and thinking it would surely attract some attention at one of the parties on St. Simons.
From the corner
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