“It didn’t matter. And then I lost my temper and slapped her . . . and we didn’t talk for weeks . . .”

  “I’m so sorry, Payton. I understand strained family relationships.”

  “Well, believe it or not, there’s a bit of a happy ending to this sad tale.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Zach didn’t have to say that. He’d been listening to me all along.

  “I wrote an apology to Johanna. Put it in her Christmas gift—but she didn’t say anything until a few days ago when I received flowers at my office—and a note from my sister.”

  “Johanna apologized?”

  “As best she could. She said she never meant to hurt me and that she hoped we could put this all behind us.”

  “That’s pretty amazing, Payton.”

  “It is, isn’t it?”

  “You’re pretty amazing, too.” Zach squeezed my hand.

  I waved away his words, even as they snuck into a thirsty part of my heart. “I failed my family—”

  “Stop.” Zach’s voice was firm. “You told the truth. After all these years, you told the truth—and things are changing.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “Healing relationships take time—and it’s not just up to you to make it happen. Believe me, I know.”

  Zach’s skin was rough against mine, his fingertips calloused. His touch was so unexpected. But he didn’t want more from me, did he? Friends could . . . touch one another this way and still be friends, right? For just a second I fought the desire to turn my hand up so that our hands met, palm to palm. To appreciate the tenderness Zach offered.

  But instead I slid my hand away.

  29

  NO ONE HAS TO TELL ME I’M DREAMING.

  The difference this time is I’m not fighting . . . I’m not afraid. When you know you’re dreaming, you know whatever reality you’re in will end when your alarm goes off.

  I know I’m dreaming . . . and I still can’t quite figure out where I am. The area looks familiar. Rocks. Scrub brush. Blue sky overhead. Familiar . . . but not familiar enough.

  “I see you found the key.”

  Pepper speaks from behind me, causing me to spin around, stumbling just a bit as I search for my sister. The key? I have the key? I uncurl my fingers, and yes, there it is in the palm of my hand. “Do you know what it’s for?”

  “Yes. And you do, too.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Payton, I can’t do it for you.”

  “I’m not asking you to do it for me—”

  “Sweet sixteen and never . . . never . . . never . . . so many things, Payton. So many things.”

  “You’re not making any sense, Pepper.” I grip the key in my fist again. “But why should that surprise me? I didn’t understand you at all before you died. New friends. New ideas about who you were and what you wanted to do.”

  “I wasn’t changing that much—”

  “The only time we did the same thing was on the volleyball court—and even then I was playing catch-up.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Just because you say it’s not true doesn’t change . . .”

  “Change what?”

  “Never mind. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “It matters now more than ever.”

  “No!” Did I yell that out loud? I fight to move my arms or legs, but I’m weighted down against the bed. Am I awake or still asleep?

  Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.

  In painful slow motion, I forced myself to sit upright, the blankets tangled around my legs even as the last remnants of the dream were tangled around my subconscious. I bracketed my face with my hands, my hair falling against my skin.

  The dreams needed to stop. But it seemed I didn’t get to decide that.

  It wasn’t quite five o’clock Friday morning. If I got ready for work now, I’d arrive hours before Kimberlee and Bianca. But what choice did I have? There would be no going back to sleep. And I had no desire to linger in my town house either—with the shadows of Pepper’s appearance.

  Work it is.

  I was so productive that when Kimberlee arrived hours later, I’d updated Facebook, Instagram, and Pinterest and was sitting at my desk, staring at the mystery key as if willing it to reveal its identity to me.

  “You look like you spent the night here.” Kimberlee set her purse on her desk, along with a plate of bran muffins.

  “Thanks for that. And I took extra time with my hair this morning.”

  “Uh-huh. Good thing for you that you’re one of those women who can pull off the whole messy-bun look.” She selected a muffin and put it on my desk.

  “Yeah, well, if my sister would stop interrupting my sleep . . .”

  “Another dream?”

  “Yes.” I admitted defeat. “Another dream.”

  Did I really want to talk about this again? Still? So much of my life had been linked to Pepper before she died and after she died. And now my life was still about Pepper.

  It’s always about Pepper.

  Where had that thought come from?

  “What was the dream about this time?” Kimberlee replaced my empty mug with a fresh cup of coffee, motioning for me to eat my muffin. “Here—three sugars just like you like it. I figure you need it.”

  “Thanks.” I tossed the key on my desktop. “The dream was about this.”

  “This?” Kimberlee picked the key up, turning it around. “This key?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s it to?”

  “I don’t know. I went looking in my old bedroom closet on Christmas Day and found it in the pocket of my high school letter jacket.”

  “Have you googled it? You know, typed in ‘different types of keys’ and then clicked on Images?”

  “No. It never even occurred to me to do something like that.”

  Kimberlee pulled up Google on my computer and began typing. “This looks like the kind of key that goes with a metal lockbox or a fireproof safe—you know, for storing important papers.”

  “Like passports and stuff?”

  “Exactly. My parents have one. They kept their marriage certificate and passports in it for safekeeping. They gave me one when I went away to college.” She clicked on the Images link. “There. Does that look familiar?”

  “No. Not the fireproof safe. Let me see . . .” I typed in lockbox and clicked the link.

  In the half second it took for the results to appear, adrenaline seemed to spill into my veins, revving up my heartbeat. It was as if I knew we were close to solving the mystery of the key. Part of me was ready, while part of me wanted to back away from the computer. Close my eyes. Not remember.

  “It goes to a lockbox . . .” I whispered the words to myself.

  “What?”

  “The key . . . it goes to a metal lockbox. . . .”

  “Let’s make a time capsule!” Pepper sat on her bed and clapped her hands like a little girl.

  “A what?”

  “A time capsule—you know! People collect stuff and bury it in a container and then it’s dug up fifty years later—”

  “Fifty years? That’s forever!”

  “It only seems like forever. We can figure out how long we want to wait to dig it up while we collect stuff.”

  “What are we going to use for the time capsule?”

  “What about that old lockbox out in the garage? I bet Dad will let us have it.”

  “Do you know where the lockbox is, Payton?” Kimberlee’s question pulled me back to the present.

  “Yes . . . well, if it’s still where we put it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s a box Pepper and I . . .” For some reason I found myself hesitating to tell Kimberlee the complete truth. I was only just remembering it myself. “We stored stuff in it. School stuff. You know. I remember where we put it last, but I’m not sure it’s still there.”

  “You’re going to go look for it, right?”

  “Yes. Sure.” I closed the browser. “Okay. Mystery solved. Now we can get back to work.”

  But as Kimberlee moved over to her desk, I stared at the key, doubting my own words. Maybe it would be best to leave the time capsule alone—if the lockbox was still where we’d buried it a decade ago.

  Pepper and I had made the time capsule together. Buried it together. Kept the secret together. Promised each other we’d come back and unseal the time capsule twenty years later—or when the first one of us got married.

  Well, there’d be no “together” when it came to unsealing the time capsule. Maybe it was best that it be forgotten again.

  This was the right thing to do, wasn’t it?

  Jillian didn’t regret the decision to marry Geoff two weeks ago. Not at all. And their families had to know she and Geoff were married sometime before their first anniversary.

  But deciding to invite their families over to Geoff’s house to tell them all at the same time? Maybe that was a mistake.

  Then again, it was a little late now to rethink how they were going to reveal their elopement, not with their parents and her sisters waiting for them to come out from the kitchen with a few requested drinks.

  Jillian twisted her hands together, turning a small circle in Geoff’s kitchen. Their kitchen. She’d been back to her apartment only three, maybe four times since they’d eloped. They were moving some of her furniture over here, replacing some of Geoff’s older pieces, and opting to let the lease run its course for now. One less thing to worry about.

  What if someone noticed her furniture in Geoff’s place before their announcement? Why hadn’t she thought about that?

  She was more nervous tonight than she’d been when she and Geoff got married. Once they’d made the decision, she’d had no qualms about standing in front of a judge and saying, “I do.” And then showing up at work a few days later and sharing the news with Harper had been such a fun moment punctuated with laughter and tears—and Harper’s promise to keep their secret until they told their families.

  But tonight was making her wish she could plead a headache or nausea—or both—and go hide in the bedroom.

  “Maybe this was a bad idea.” Jillian leaned closer to her husband, keeping her voice to a whisper as if anyone could hear her on the other side of the kitchen wall.

  “Getting married? It’s a done deal, honey.” Geoff placed a swift kiss on her lips.

  “No, not that. Deciding to tell everyone. Maybe we should let them think this is only a ‘we’re back together’ party.”

  Geoff held up his hand. “We should have just worn our wedding bands—”

  “No! Someone would have noticed before we had a chance to say anything.” Jillian pressed her fingertips against her temples, closing her eyes. “I’m just not sure I’m up to their reactions.”

  “You don’t think they’re already wondering what this is all about?” Geoff covered her hand with his own. “And what are they going to say? We’re adults. We were planning on getting married. We just decided to be a bit unconventional—”

  “Geoff, we went from planning a huge wedding, to postponing it, to canceling it, to getting married without telling anyone—”

  “You don’t have to review everything with me. I’m thankful it’s behind us and we’re married. Plain and simple.”

  “Well, there’s nothing ‘plain and simple’ about telling everyone.”

  “Then I’ll tell them. And then we’ll break out the champagne and celebrate.”

  “I don’t want to disappoint anyone—”

  “In case you’re wondering, I’m not disappointed at all.” Geoff wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I’m completely—”

  Before Geoff could finish his declaration, a commotion in the other room distracted Jillian. Voices raised. Footsteps. And was that . . . barking?

  “Oh no! Winston’s loose!”

  Sure enough, as they rushed from the kitchen to the living room, the black-and-white puppy on the run tried to streak past them—halted only by Geoff’s quick reflexes. He captured the wriggling dog, cradling him in his arms as best he could while evading Winston’s attempts to lick his face.

  Everyone turned to stare at them. Geoff’s parents. Her parents. Johanna and Payton.

  “What is that?” Johanna’s tone implied that Winston was half-canine, half-rodent.

  “This is Winston.” Jillian scratched behind the puppy’s ears. “Our dog.”

  “You have a dog? Are you crazy?” Johanna’s eyes widened. “You’re not finished with your chemo yet, and then you have radiation—”

  “My doctor is fine with me having a puppy.” Jillian paused. Maybe this was the perfect, unexpected opening. “Geoff gave him to me as a wedding gift.”

  Her mother gasped. “A wedding gift? You mean the wedding is back on?”

  “No, I mean Geoff and I got married January 5.”

  Jillian’s announcement plunged the room into not-quite silence—the stillness broken by Winston’s tiny whimpers and barks as he struggled to escape Geoff’s hold. Was this how Payton felt when she told the truth about what happened the night Pepper died? Did she try to gauge everyone’s reactions by the varied expressions on their faces?

  Were her parents angry with her . . . or sad? And what did Geoff’s parents think about their only son eloping?

  “This is so romantic!” Payton clapped her hands before wrapping Jillian in a gentle hug. “I’m so happy for the two of you!”

  “Thank you.” Jillian held on for a moment longer. “Really . . . thank you.”

  “You two got photos, right? Did you run away to Las Vegas?”

  “Hardly anything that dramatic.” Jillian stepped closer to Geoff, who slipped one arm around her even as he maintained control of Winston. “We got married by a judge here in the Springs and had a brief honeymoon weekend at a bed-and-breakfast in Vail.”

  Geoff spoke up at last. “I take responsibility for the whole idea—”

  “You didn’t kidnap me—”

  “No, but I was the one who suggested it.” Geoff released Winston, who scampered off down the hall. “When Jillian called off the wedding, well, I couldn’t accept it. And then I realized we kept trying to figure out how to make it all work—and that the most important thing was being married to Jillian. Not how the wedding happened—just that it happened.”

  Jillian allowed Geoff to talk, realizing he wasn’t looking at anyone but her. In all the months since her diagnosis, even when his actions toward her changed, the way he looked at her hadn’t. He always looked at her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world.

  “So I showed up at her apartment—”

  “He was there when I came home from work one afternoon. He’d already packed my suitcase—”

  “And I asked her to marry me. Then. That day.”

  “And I said yes. Because I realized I was letting the cancer—I was letting fear—control my life.”

  Geoff laughed. “Well, that’s an abbreviated version of the conversation. We had some things to talk out. But the most important thing is, we’re married.”

  At last, her mother moved to embrace her, and Geoff’s mother stepped forward to hug her son—both fathers following behind them.

  “I can’t believe this.” Her mother’s words were woven with laughter and tears. “You’re married.”

  “I know. Sometimes I can’t believe it, either.”

  “You’re planning some sort of reception in the future, right?” Even as Johanna hugged her, she began making plans.

  Ah. The question she’d been anticipating—and had prepped for.

  “We’re not planning anything right now—except for me to finish the chemo and get through my course of radiation.” Jillian sought out Payton again. “We did want to send out announcements, and I was hoping you, Payton, could recommend a designer and Johanna would help me figure out the wording.”

  Johanna nodded. “I’m sure we could design something ourselves—”

  “We thought about that, but right now it’s all about keeping life as simple as possible.” Jillian paused as Geoff excused himself to take Winston outside. “Although I realize adopting a puppy doesn’t equal ‘simple.’ Besides Winston, we’re keeping everything else simple, which is why I hope Payton can recommend someone to design the announcements.”

  “Is a reception off the table completely?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I may just do a celebration when I’m finished with my treatment, Johanna, but I can’t think about it yet. Geoff and I are going to tell people that we don’t expect gifts and that if they feel like sending anything, we’d rather they make a donation to the Make-A-Wish Foundation.”

  “I have a question.” Payton spoke up.

  “What?”

  “Why did you name your dog Winston?”

  Payton’s unexpected question caused everyone to laugh.

  “We found him at the homeless shelter. They told us that despite being the runt of the litter, he was scrappy and fearless. For some reason, that made me think of Winston Churchill and his whole ‘never, never, never give in’ quote. It seemed appropriate.”

  “I like it.” Her younger sister hugged her again. “And you’re proving to be pretty scrappy and fearless yourself.”

  “Thanks. It’s easier . . . not being alone.”

  “I’m so glad you have Geoff.”

  Jillian couldn’t remember the last time Payton had willingly hugged her—and not once, but twice. Even after Payton’s confession, Jillian had been the one to embrace her sister, who seemed almost brittle, as if holding her too tight would shatter her. But tonight Payton wrapped her arms around her as if eager to connect.

  Even Johanna hadn’t argued with her that much. She didn’t look thrilled about the unexpected announcement that Jillian and Geoff were married, but she didn’t grill them about the details or list all the reasons they shouldn’t have done it.

  Could things be changing between her and Johanna and Payton? Shifting so they could have better—more respectful—communication? Learn to accept one another as adults, not just continue to react to each other the way they had growing up? Or was that wishful thinking?