Beautiful: Truth's Found When Beauty's Lost Part 3

"I love you."

She stared at him. He really meant it, his first "I love you" to anyone he'd ever dated.

Ryan waved then, with a sad smile, and drove away before she could respond.

"Sweetie, there are so many people who want to say h.e.l.lo to you. You've been gone so long." Mom had that tone in her voice-cheerful disapproval. "The ladies from the church brought dinner."

She ushered Ellie inside to the waiting relatives and family friends who sat around on the couches and folding chairs with food-laden paper plates in their laps.

Ryan had just said he loved her.

An elderly man who looked familiar called to her from the love seat by the cold fireplace. "There you are, Elspeth."

The woman next to him said, "We brought photographs of our trip to Texas. And Jasper brought those old war photos of your grandfather as well."

Ellie and Ryan used the love word at times. Love ya. That's what I love about you. Love me too. I just love how you . . . But they hadn't said the full-blown, straight-out words yet.

"I have some stories to tell you about your grandfather," said a lady who had come up beside her.

Ellie wondered where Megan was.

Should she send Ryan a text in response? What would she say? Could she text I love you back? Make a joke, be serious-what should she do?

"Ellie, show Aunt Tina the bracelet. She doesn't remember it. I can't believe you don't remember it." Mom turned to Dad's younger sister.

Mom and Aunt Tina looked at her, waiting. The elderly couple waited. The older woman too.

"I . . ." she said, raising her hand, pausing to find the right words. "I left it in Ryan's car."

"Honey, that's a family heirloom." Cheerful disapproval again, with a touch more disapproval.

"I know. I'll get it tomorrow."

"Okay," Mom said with disappointment. "I'll show you later, Tee."

"Jane, I'm stealing your daughter away. Come here, young lady," the older woman said to Mom.

Mrs. Leonard-Ellie suddenly remembered that was her name-held up a large stack of photographs.

So much for going to bed.

It seemed as if from the moment Grandfather died until now that a free pa.s.s had been handed to all of their family and friends, allowing everyone to talk about his life and to make their a.s.sumptions. They told stories about someone who sounded nothing like the angry man Ellie had known. His sisters talked about how he'd been as a kid and teenager. How close they'd all been. Then there were the speculations about why he'd become so mean. There were revelations of grudges and entire branches of the family tree that she'd never heard of or known about, like Grandfather's older brother who told Mom when she called with the news of his death, "I stopped thinking I had a brother many years ago. He wasn't a nice man. And I won't be coming to the funeral."

"You're a lot like your grandfather, you know?" Mrs. Leonard said.

Then she touched Ellie's arm, and Ellie realized that she'd said it to her, not to Megan, who was walking by.

"What?" Ellie asked and saw the look of disgust on her sister's face.

"You are a lot like your grandfather. When he was young, of course. He was quite the young man. Had such a pa.s.sion for life, so very smart like you, able to do anything he put his mind to."

"We had nothing in common," Ellie said as politely as she could.

She sat through the stories and the photographs, acting interested and positive about it all. Her elderly relatives thought of her as confident and strong; most adults did. She supposed that was her fault for acting the part. All evening Ellie heard, either directly or indirectly, how much she had going for her, what a beautiful young woman she had become, how proud they all were of her.

Did you see the younger daughter-yes, she is younger, by only eleven months or something. She'll do something great with her life, you can just tell.

The comparisons inevitably came out. For a reason known only to her parents, they had put Megan and Ellie into kindergarten at the same time. That Ellie excelled at everything in school further aggravated the differences between the sisters. The closeness they'd had as little girls broke down step-by-step as the years pa.s.sed, as teachers and cla.s.smates compared and commented. People often thought they were twins, with very different personalities, looks, and achievements. One was good. The other was bad.

Ellie didn't understand why Megan didn't try to make any of it better. She barely pa.s.sed her cla.s.ses; she dressed in whatever way would cause unrest. Ellie expected the pierc-ings to begin as soon as Megan turned eighteen. She'd already gotten two tattoos that Mom and Dad didn't know about.

Ellie's stomach rumbled loudly, and the sudden need for food pulsed through her. "Excuse me, Mrs. Leonard, while I grab a snack. It's been a long day."

The dining room looked like a church potluck. Ellie picked up a paper plate and silverware rolled up in a napkin.

"I bet you haven't eaten." Dad walked along the opposite side of the food table.

"Guess I'll make up for it now. I bet you haven't eaten all day either."

His confession came with a grin.

"Oh, there she is," a voice said, followed by another voice echoing. Aunt Betty and Aunt Molly surrounded her as several of her cold prawns slid off the tiny plate and landed in a red Jell-O salad.

"Your parents said that you went back to school," Aunt Betty said, as usual being the official sister spokesperson.

"I had a calculus test."

"Well, you should be with family. Your mother probably needed you, and of course-" She nodded toward Ellie's dad, who was making a quick exit. "He just lost his father, and you should be here. That was very unlike you, Elspeth. Your sister did help a little, when she'd come out of her room." Aunt Betty raised her voice as she spotted Megan getting her phone charger with a brownie in hand.

"You're welcome," Megan said.

"And why would you wear that dress today?" Aunt Betty asked, crossing her arms at her chest.

Megan shook her head and walked away.

Ellie still couldn't believe that Megan had sewn the dress in just one week. Ellie couldn't sew a b.u.t.ton back on a s.h.i.+rt. The dress was canary yellow-completely inappropriate for a funeral, according to Aunt Betty. Aunt Molly's nod reminded Ellie of a bobblehead.

"Grandfather loved yellow," Ellie said, which, now that she thought of it, didn't seem a likely Grandpa characteristic. If things had been different, she would've worn a yellow dress in his honor as well.

"It doesn't matter. That isn't something that should be worn on such a day . . ."

And off they went, talking about Megan and praising Ellie for all the good that she'd done at school and church and in the community. It made even Ellie sick to hear it.

"Be right back," she said, opening the back door.

She closed the door behind her, and the noise of the house turned off like a light switch and the nighttime peace flipped on. "I thought this would be over," she exclaimed under her breath. The western sky held a final line of dark purple, and leaves littered the patio with yellow and red from the liquid amber and cottonwood trees.

"It could last for days," a voice said. A guy was sitting off to the side of the patio.

"Sorry. I didn't know anyone was out here."

Ellie looked toward the voice and recognized Will Stefanos, a cla.s.smate and neighbor. They'd been friends when they were little. There were photographs of him at summer barbecues, and Ellie had made forts with him in grade school. She lingered at the door, unwilling to return to the relatives inside, though she realized she'd left her plate of food on the buffet table.

"Sorry, but this is my spot. You could go to your room."

Ellie smiled. "My aunts are staying in my room. You could go home."

"Ouch."

"I didn't mean it that way. Just that it is a few doors away, after all."

"Yeah, I'm supposed to talk to you though."

"Talk to me?"

"You know, comfort you and Megan, tell you everything is going to be okay. My mother's commission. She sent me with a plate of brownies."

"Ah, I see. The 'go make sure everything's all right with little Ellie Summerfield' commission."

"Exactly. As well as the reminders of how you and I were best friends in preschool and I used to draw you pictures every day."

"You did?" Then Ellie remembered. "Oh yeah. They included a lot of weird little monsters, if I remember correctly."

"Aliens."

"Oh, is that what they were?"

"Yes, all my early works included aliens."

"You aren't doing a very good job of comforting us."

"I didn't see you, so I slipped out here a minute." He raised his hand, and she saw that it held a cigarette. The gray smoke took a short trail and disappeared against the darker night sky.

"Where did you go?" Ellie asked suddenly, walking over to sit in a chair closer to him.

"When?"

"When you moved in fourth grade, but you didn't move, 'cause your parents were still here."

"Brazil. To be with my grandfather, actually."

The sliding gla.s.s door opened, letting out the noise of people talking, and farther off some music from the forties played.

Ellie cringed and whispered, "Don't say anything. Maybe they won't see me."

But it was Megan. "Hey, some relatives that we're supposed to care about are leaving, and you're supposed to come say good-bye."

"Which relatives?"

"I don't know-George and Kathy something, or Bob and Kathy-I can't remember." She noticed Will then. "Hey."

He nodded in her direction, taking a drag from his cigarette. "You going tonight?"

Megan glanced at Ellie. "I think so."

"See you then."

Megan disappeared back inside the house, shutting off the sound and restoring the peace of the night.

"You and my sister are friends?"

"Yeah," he said. "Why is that weird?"

"I didn't know she had friends."

"What do you know about her?"

"That she's unhappy."

"Unhappy here, maybe."

"What does that mean?"

"Whatever you want it to mean."

Will was good-looking in a way, she realized. Sort of funky or something. Black pants and white T-s.h.i.+rt. Who wore a T-s.h.i.+rt to a funeral dinner? Perfect for someone who hung out with a girl who sewed a funky yellow dress for a funeral. His black hair was thick and cut short. She'd seen him at the mall, wearing a packer hat that looked like something from a cla.s.sic movie.

"Are you and my sister . . ."

"Are we . . . what?"

Ellie shook her head and suddenly hated her black skirt and blouse. She felt like a librarian in the presence of a rock musician. "Are you going out?"

"No. Do you know anything about your sister?"

"Not really."

He stared at her then, a long, probing stare that made her want to leave and reminded her that Bob or George and Kathy were waiting for her to say good-bye.

"Maybe you should change that. I mean, you are . . ." His voice drifted off.

"I'm what?"

He looked away and took a drag, blowing the smoke out over his shoulder.

"You're Ellie Summerfield."