keeping up with her father’s women took more time than she had to spare, Destiny remembered the torrid affair and the illegitimate child that resulted. From all she’d heard, Starr was truly alone in the world. Saying no to the implied request hadn’t been an option.
But although she and Starr were biologically half siblings, in truth they’d never met until ten days ago when Destiny had picked up the teen at the Austin airport. So far all their conversations had been of the superficial “Hi, how are you” variety. Starr was quieter than Destiny had expected. There weren’t a lot of cell calls to friends or frantic texting sessions.
“Hi,” she said as she closed the front door behind her. “How’s it going?”
“Fine.” Starr put down her iPad. “I was reading.”
“Have you been out today?”
Starr shook her head.
Destiny might not have a family yet, but she knew that a fifteen-year-old cooped up in a strange house for days at a time wasn’t good. It wouldn’t be good even if the house wasn’t strange. Kids needed to be going and doing. Making friends.
Destiny let her small backpack fall to the floor, then sat on the chair kitty-corner to the sofa and held out the material Mayor Marsha had given her.
“I had an interesting meeting this afternoon,” she said, determined not to mention the fact that the mayor had known way more than she should about Destiny’s personal life and her nonexistent relationship with her half sister.
“It turns out there’s a summer camp in town. Or maybe up in the mountains. I haven’t read all the information yet. But it’s close, and I thought it might be fun for you.”
The wariness never left Starr’s eyes. “Why?”
“There are kids your age there. And different classes. Drama, singing, music. You’d be outdoors. That’s better than being stuck in here.”
Given the choice, Destiny always preferred to be outside. She wasn’t sure if she’d been that way before she’d gone to live with Grandma Nell, but she certainly was after. The sky seemed to beckon her. Trees were tall friends who provided protection and shade on a hot, sunny day. There were a thousand discoveries to be made and the magic of the music Mother Nature created with rustling leaves or the call of birds.
Starr took the offered brochure and opened it. “I’d like to study drama,” she admitted. “And music.” She looked up. “Get better on the guitar.”
There was no accusation in the statement. Just fact. Which didn’t prevent Destiny from squirming. The day she’d picked her half sister up at the airport, Starr had asked if Destiny could help her learn to play her guitar better. She’d admitted to being self-taught and frustrated by a lack of instruction. Destiny had lied and said that she didn’t play much and couldn’t help.
Two weeks later, the lie still sat heavy on her shoulders. Music had been as much a part of her upbringing as breathing. Given who her parents were, it was inevitable, she supposed. She’d been playing a child-size guitar before she could read, and by the time she was six, she’d added piano to her skill set.
Nearly twelve years ago she’d made the decision to put that part of her life behind her. To focus on what she saw as the normal world. She rarely played anymore and did her best to ignore the lyrics that bubbled up inside her head. Sometimes she gave in and spent a long afternoon playing and writing. Usually, that was enough to get it out of her system until the next time the feeling overwhelmed her.
She told herself that she had the right to make that decision. That she didn’t owe Starr that piece of herself. And while that might be technically true, she knew she shouldn’t have lied about it.
“I looked,” Destiny said with a smile. “There are guitar classes. Piano, too, if you’re interested.”
“Do you play piano?”
“I used to.”
“You don’t have one in the house.”
No, she had a portable keyboard with a great set of headphones instead. It was tucked under her bed.
“I move around too much to have a piano,” she said with a shrug. “It would be tough to bring a piano on a plane as my carry-on.”
Starr’s full mouth pulled up slightly. Not a complete smile, but closer than she’d gotten before, Destiny thought.
“I think the camp would be fun for you. I know it’s tough being away from your school friends. There have to be a couple of cool kids in town, right?”
“I don’t hang out with the cool kids,” Starr told her. “But I’d like to make some friends.”
“Great. Then look that over and tell me what you think.”
Starr nodded. She didn’t ask about the cost. Jimmy Don’s lawyer had explained there’d been a life insurance policy on Starr’s mother, and the money from that had been put into a trust. Their dad had kicked in some, as well. No doubt the teen assumed her expenses would be paid from that.
While Destiny knew that legally she could take money from the trust, she didn’t want to. She would cover the cost of the camp herself, just like she planned to pay for Starr’s living expenses. They were family. Sort of. At the very least, they were related, and that counted.
“Come on,” she said as she stood. “You can read about the camp while I start dinner.”
They went into the kitchen. Starr settled at the small kitchen table while Destiny pulled out the ingredients for fried chicken. As she opened the refrigerator, she saw a few unfamiliar casserole dishes.
“Did you cook?” she asked.
“No. A couple of ladies came by with them. There’s instructions on heating them. They both look good.”
Destiny glanced at the labels. One simply said lasagna, with suggestions on warming in both the oven and the microwave. The other label said it was Denise’s Many Layered Tamale Pie. Destiny was pretty sure she hadn’t met anyone named Denise, but that didn’t matter. Small-town folks took care of each other. Anything noteworthy brought out the casserole brigade.
“We can have these for lunch,” she said. “If that’s okay with you.”
“Sure.”
She dumped flour, salt, pepper and paprika into a large plastic bag. After washing off the chicken, she patted it dry and then soaked it in buttermilk for a few seconds before putting the pieces in with the flour. A couple of shakes later, the chicken was coated. She set the pieces on a plate. The trick to really good fried chicken was hot oil and letting the flour mixture get a little gooey.
As she waited, she glanced at Starr. The teen read the camp information intently.
There was a stillness about her. Or maybe it was just sadness. Starr’s young life hadn’t been easy. She rarely saw her father; her mother had been in and out of rehab and had eventually died of an overdose. Now Starr lived at a boarding school. She had no grandparents, and all her siblings were either half or step and total strangers.
Destiny’s
