Tina thought it best to bury her sister in the apple orchard she had cherished so much in life. She found a spot of grass between two of the larger Ruby Jons and used her father’s pickaxe to break up the soil. It was cool out but pleasant, and in spite of her dire task, she found herself humming Ain’t Too Proud To Beg, missing, at once, her sister’s harmony. She abandoned the pickaxe for a shovel and dug the hole that would soon be her sister’s eternal resting place. The moment proved more bittersweet than she had imagined.

                She and Cheryl had never been particularly close. From the start, they had competed for their father’s affection. Cheryl was exactly 87 seconds older than Tina, but had always acted more like her mother than a sibling. Tina, thus, was always considered the baby of the family, requiring a great deal of supervision. Supervision turned out to be Cheryl’s specialty, so much so that fact that they were identical twins was all but forgotten by the rest of the family.

                Daniel Kinsella, their father, was a difficult man; opinionated, obstinate and old-fashioned to a fault, but he loved Cheryl better than the rest and made no effort to hide it. It had driven Susan, their older sister, into the arms of a reefer-mad jazz man from Detroit. Their mother, Olivia, had taken the easy way out, opting for a special car ride in the sealed-off garage. For the last few years, Cheryl and Tina had been the only ones left to put up with Daniel’s antics, though little Tina had always taken the brunt of it.

                As she climbed out of the grave, the slight breeze gave her goose bumps and yanked her thoughts back to the present. Her eyes took in the fresh wound in the earth. It wasn’t deep enough. She knew that, but the time had grown short. Besides, the only thing that really mattered was that Cheryl would be laid to rest by someone who loved her, in a place where they had always found a degree of peace.

                She took a deep breath, taking in the scent of apple blossoms and, from the hedge that separated the orchard from the rest of her father’s land, sweet, pale honeysuckle. Somewhere to the west, beyond the hills that formed the western boundary of the Kinsella Farm, coyotes called to each other, planning whatever coyotes might plan. Their call was faint, but high and throaty—a sharp contrast to the deeper thrum of the mason bees flitting from flower to flower.

                Tina turned back toward the grave and nodded to herself. She had rehearsed the words that she meant to say, the short eulogy that would serve as her last goodbye to Cheryl, but she was hesitant to say them. Once she did, the moment would be over, lost to the past like any other. It was a private moment between sisters. No one else would understand, nor would they be strong enough to bear the responsibility. Part of her wanted the moment to last.

                She looked up at the stars, searching briefly for Orion. The lithe hunter had always been her sister’s favorite constellation. It seemed only fitting that he should bear witness to her internment. A tear escaped into the lower lash of Tina’s right eye, suspended there as she took another deep breath. She could hardly believe that she would never see her sister smile again—never hear her laugh. She carefully leaned over the Radio Flyer and lifted Cheryl out, struggling to maneuver her into the grave. She climbed out again and looked down at the flesh and blood reflection of herself. She then cleared her throat and let the tears warm her cheeks.

                After glancing up again, to make sure Orion was still her witness, Tina spoke the few words she had prepared earlier in the day.

                “Cheryl, you and I have shared so much. All of our lives, what’s mine has been yours.”

She wiped her eyes on the back of her sweater, and took a moment to steady her nerves.

“Tomorrow, I’ll turn fourteen,” she said.

Tina  looked down at her sister and smiled.

“But you won’t, you hateful bitch.”

Tina took the shovel and began refilling the makeshift grave. It was easy to ignore Cheryl’s pleading squeals, muffled as they were by the gag Tina had wedged in her mouth. She hadn’t located any rope to bind her sister’s hands but found her father’s electrical tape to be a decent substitution. On her back in the ground’s open maw, Cheryl could do nothing but kick and moan as her sister continued to pile the dirt on.

It took another half an hour for Tina to finish the job and load her tools back in the wagon, then ten more to walk the long way out of the orchard and back home. On the way, she worked herself into hysterics. After all, she still had to sell her father on the idea that Cheryl had run away from home.