House Of Secrets (11 page)

I
couldn’t begin to imagine where Piper had gone. She’d taken the rental car, however, so there was nothing for Geena and me to do but wait.

“She was very angry last night,” Geena said as she stirred creamer into her coffee. “You should have been honest with us a long time ago.”

“It wasn’t for a lack of wanting to,” I assured her. “I just worried that it would only add more questions, more fears. I didn’t want you and Piper sitting around dreading the possibilities.”

“Like you were?” she questioned.

I met Geena’s grim expression and couldn’t hide my own worry. “Yes . . . I suppose so.”

“Schizophrenia explains an awful lot,” Geena continued. “At least from what little I know. The few things I can remember—the things we’ve actually discussed—all seem to fit into a giant puzzle now.” She took a long drink from her mug before continuing.

“If schizophrenia was the reason Mom acted as she did, then I truly feel sorry for Dad. If she wouldn’t take her meds or get help, he must have had a real nightmare on his hands. Especially since he probably got very little help from the mental health community.”

“Dad didn’t know the half of what we went through,” I muttered.

“Piper came to me in tears last night. She asked me if depression was a sign of schizophrenia. You’ve seen how she’s struggled . . . she figures it must be her inheritance from Mom.”

“She could overcome her depression if she’d get some help. Good grief, she lost her mother when she was six. Knew that her father was responsible for the death. Then he wrapped himself up in business, leaving us at one boarding school or another . . . or in the care of hired help. Piper never had a moment of continuity in her life until we moved to Newton, but by then the damage was done.”

“We never fit in at boarding school,” Geena offered. “Piper especially seemed confused and alone.”

“I know, but there was never anything I could do about it. At least Dad kept us at the same school—and for a time, in the same room.” I remembered when the day came to split us up. Piper had spent weeks begging Dad to reconsider, but when the day came, Piper didn’t cry or pitch a fit. Instead, she sat in perfect resignation. Wasn’t it Thoreau who once said, “What is called resignation is confirmed desperation”? Piper had been desperate, but I found myself useless, unable to help her. God knew that I had tried. I had pled my case to the head mistresses and to Dad, but both said that the separation would be good in the long run. I disagreed then, and I’ve never changed my mind.

I understood that we had to separate and do our individual tasks related to school. No one would expect a fourth grader to sit in an eighth grader’s class. But most children went home at night to their parents and siblings. They had dinner around the table or at least some form of togetherness. At least that was how I imagined it. Not so for the Cooper sisters.

Late in the morning we heard a car pull up to the house. Geena beat me to the window and announced our sister had returned. Piper stalked into the house and threw a sheaf of papers along with the car keys onto the table.

“There you are,” she announced. “Everything you would ever want to know about schizophrenia.” She picked up one sheet and began to pace. “Where should I start? Should we discuss the angle of it being a psychotic disorder—an abnormal state of the mind in which thought processes are disrupted?” She tossed the page down and picked up another.

“Why don’t we take a moment to reflect on the fact that there are positive, negative, and cognitive symptoms. Better still, let’s pin down what doctors generally look for first—delusions, hallucinations, disorganized speech and behavior. And those are just the positive symptoms.”

“Piper, calm down. Bailee and I both know something of schizophrenia,” Geena declared.

I felt sorry for Piper but wasn’t sure what to say. She turned on her heel and went to the table to grab another piece of paper and continued to pace. “Well, until this morning, I didn’t know much of anything about it, so please bear with me as I detail for you the five types of schizophrenia.

“There’s our number one contestant—Paranoid Schizophrenia, which offers us delusions and hallucinations, not to mention that those patients generally focus on being pursued, betrayed, or plotted against. Sound familiar?” Her sarcasm was like a knife in my heart.

“How about behind door number two?” She looked to Geena and then to me. “That’s right, we have Disorganized Type Schizophrenia. It doesn’t seem to have the degree of delusions and hallucinations that Paranoid Schizophrenia offers, but it does allow for some negative symptoms that are not found as often in number one. You might ask what the negative symptoms are, and I’m glad you did.”

Our petite little sister marched to the table once again and riffled through the papers until she found what she wanted. “Negative symptoms include the flattened effect, where folks have trouble showing emotions.”

“Well, that certainly isn’t your problem,” Geena interrupted, her tone sarcastic. “Look, we get it. You’re angry. I was angry too. Bailee didn’t keep this from us to be mean. She thought she was protecting us.”

Piper shook her head. “Don’t interrupt. We’re learning about important family history here.”

I shuddered and said nothing as Geena took a seat beside me and Piper continued. “Other negative symptoms would also include anhedonia—this is where patients fail to experience or express pleasure in things they once found enjoyable. Add to this reduced speech and a lack of initiative, and you could very well be describing me for the last two years.”

“Oh, stop it,” Geena demanded. “You aren’t suffering from schizophrenia and you definitely don’t have reduced speech.”

Piper zeroed in on me and came to where I sat. “What about it, Big Sis? You’re the keeper of such information. Have you determined yet whether I suffer from our mother’s mental illness?”

“I never meant to hurt you,” I said, unable to think of anything else.

“Well, you failed,” she said matter-of-factly and walked away.

“Piper, I always intended to tell you. I just wanted to wait for the right time.”

She turned and looked at me. “And how did you determine when that might be? When we started showing symptoms? It’s hereditary, you know.”

“It
can
be. It doesn’t have to be. Scientists credit drug usage as the main cause of increased cases,” I countered. “There’s only about a ten percent chance in people who had one parent suffering the disorder.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she asked in disbelief. “You’ve known about this for years and said nothing.”

I couldn’t muster a response. I’d always imagined this moment of disclosure, but I figured my sisters would be grateful. Once I was able to explain my reasoning, I figured they would be touched—appreciative. That was far from what I was seeing now. Something authoritarian rose up in me.

“I was wrong.” I looked at Piper and put on my role of big sister. “I’m sorry. I truly am sorry.” Glancing over to Geena, I added, “You both have a right to be angry. However, I want to remind you that Dad will be here today with our new stepmother. I want to resolve this now.”

Piper crossed her arms. “Good for you.”

Her lack of understanding made me angry. “This is the thanks I get for doing what I could to keep you safe from harm? I spent my entire life watching over you and seeing to your needs before my own.”

“Nobody asked you to,” Piper said, taking a step forward. “Nobody.”

I nodded. “You’re right. They didn’t ask. They demanded.” I felt rage begin to bubble up from down deep inside. I felt unappreciated and scorned for my devotion. “They demanded.”

“Who demanded?” Geena asked. “Who forced that on you, Bailee?”

“Our mother,” I said, shaking my head. “She always demanded that I keep track of the two of you—that I help her account for your safety.”

“From dangers that didn’t even exist,” Piper interjected.

In a flash I found myself taken back in time to a moment when our mother had tried to teach us to swim in the Port Orchard Strait. I had no idea where our father or the housekeeper was, but Piper was nearly two. She couldn’t possibly remember the event, but she’d gotten too cold in the water and was sick for nearly three weeks afterwards. Dad had been very worried about her recovery, but I had never told him the cause of Piper’s sickness. Would the dangers have stopped if I’d been honest?

“But Bailee is right,” Geena said, bringing me back to the present. “Dad will be back before we know it, and Judith will be with him. Dad is the one who should have told us the truth. My question, however, is do we approach him about this with a stranger in our house?”

Piper calmed a bit. “I don’t see as how we have a choice.”

I could only imagine the scene we would create. “Maybe we can convince Dad to speak with us privately. After all, they plan to stay in the cottage.”

The phone rang as if on cue. Geena was closest and picked it up after the first ring. “Hello?”

I could tell that it was Dad. I saw Piper slump to a chair as though all of her gusto was now spent. Geena nodded and looked to me. “We’ll see you when you get here.” She hung up the phone.

“The ferry just docked and they’ll be here in a few minutes. Dad wants us to join them for lunch.”

“I guess we can talk when we get back then. Hopefully Judith will want to rest—maybe take a nap. We can let her know that we want to talk privately with Dad. She’ll understand.”

“What if after confronting Dad, he decides to turn himself in?” Piper asked.

“I hardly think that’s going to happen,” I replied. “He’s had fifteen years.”

Confusion muddled my thoughts. Geena had been determined to get a confession and see Dad face the consequences for the past. Piper had been terrified of what that might mean. But after all I’d shared, what did they think now? I was starting to feel a sense of exhaustion.

I remember Dad talking to my grandma Cooper when I was about seven. She told my dad that love sometimes required sacrifice, and often that sacrifice would be uncomfortable—even painful. It seemed this was one of those times.

I checked the clock on the wall. They would arrive in a matter of minutes. Not only would we face an alteration to our family in the form of a new stepmother, but we would confront the past head-on. We would ask the question that had consumed us since our mother died. Were we strong enough to hear the answer?

M
y first impressions of Judith were quite positive. She entered the house at Dad’s side and smiled at each of us and called us by name. Her demeanor, calm and gentle, expressed an ease about her that made me relax. Her brunette hair just grazed her shoulders, framing the delicate features of her slender face. I couldn’t tell what her age might be; there were wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, but a youthfulness in her spirit suggested she was just a woman who liked to smile a lot.

“I’ve seen photographs of you girls for so long, I feel I know you already,” she declared.

“That must be nice,” Piper said in a snide manner before slouching into a stuffed chair near the fireplace.

Judith threw her a sympathetic look. “I know I have you all at a disadvantage. I told your father it was hardly fair to dump me into the equation like this. I had thought it would be easier back in Boston.”

Geena extended her hand. “It would come as a surprise no matter the location. Dad has never said so much as a word about dating anyone.”

Dad spoke up to defend himself. “I didn’t know my love life was any of your concern.” He smiled good-naturedly and put his arm around Judith’s shoulders. “I specifically remember you girls telling me that as adult women you weren’t obligated to tell me the details of your romantic interests. I presumed that the same courtesies were extended to me.” He turned to his new wife. “Judith, it would seem that I’ve brought you into the lion’s den.”

“Hardly that,” Geena countered. “We were just surprised.”

“That’s putting it mildly,” Piper muttered.

I drew in a deep breath and steadied myself. “So were you able to fly out last night?” I hoped this would change the focus of our conversation and lighten the mood.

Judith appeared to understand my intention. “By the time the last of the storms rolled through, I had already opted to stay the night and fly in this morning.”

I nodded. “Our weather has been mild. Rain, but nothing too harsh.” I looked at Dad and could see his brow had relaxed. “We fixed some clam chowder but decided to save it for another time.”

“Judith and I will be here for at least a week. We hope all of you will stay at least that long.”

“Seems strange that you’re actually taking a vacation,” Geena said. “We’ve been after you to do this for a long time.”

Dad glanced at Judith. “She convinced me that I needed to learn to relax. Apparently I work entirely too much.”

“This is ridiculous,” Piper interjected with a huff.

“Piper, congratulations on your graduation from college,” Judith said in an attempt to soothe my sister. “Do you have plans for the future?”

Crossing her arms, Piper gave the older woman a hard stare. “I plan to seek the truth.”

I motioned to the living room. “Would you like to sit down, or should we just go right to lunch?”

“I’m not going anywhere until I get some answers,” Piper said, surprising us all. She all but exploded out of the chair and crossed the room to the table. She picked up her papers and thrust them at Dad. “Maybe you could start here.”

Dad’s smile faded even before he looked at the information. “What in the world has gotten into you?”

Piper generally took his side in any family discussion or argument, so for her to appear so hostile now was a great shift in character. She stared hard at Dad as if silently daring him to deny what she already knew.

He glanced at the papers and then held them up for Judith to see. “So . . . you know about your mother. I suppose you told them?” he asked, looking at me.

“Bailee should have told us a long time ago. She’s known since she was a teenager,” Piper declared. She looked at me in an almost apologetic manner before going back to her chair.

Dad exchanged a glance with Judith, then turned to me. “How did you find out?”

His tone betrayed his hurt. “I overheard Mrs. Brighton talking about it on the phone one day. That set me off on a journey to learn as much as I could. I suppose the only real question I have is why you didn’t just tell us. It’s not like it would have changed anything.”

“I was advised against it,” Dad said, looking at the papers as if he might see something important there. “I was told it wasn’t in your best interest.”

“Who in their right mind would tell you that?” Geena asked. “We had a right to know. We can inherit mental illness.”

“Yes, but you didn’t,” he countered.

“How can you be sure?” Piper threw out. “How can anyone be sure?”

Dad put the papers aside and led Judith to the sofa. I followed, not knowing what else to do, and took a seat in the rocking chair. Geena pulled up the ottoman. We waited for Dad to continue, but instead, Judith began to speak.

“I’ve had personal experience with this type of mental illness.”

All I could think of was that Dad had somehow married another woman with the same problems Mom had endured.

She continued. “Your dad and I met sixteen or seventeen years ago.”

“You were running after her while married to Momma?” Piper accused.

Dad tensed. “I most certainly did not.”

Judith patted his hand and he relaxed. She smiled at him and continued. “No, we didn’t begin a romantic relationship until earlier this year. We met back then at a group therapy session. A support group, really.” She turned to face Geena and me. “It was for families who had loved ones with schizophrenia. It was quite new and neither of us had any idea what to expect.”

I was stunned. “You went to therapy, Dad?”

“Yes. I didn’t know how to deal with your mother. I didn’t know how to help her—especially when she wouldn’t help herself.”

“I would have liked to have known how to help her too.” Bitterness clung to my words.

“But there was no reason to involve you girls,” Dad said. “It wasn’t up to you to figure out such weighted problems.”

I felt the knife turn a little deeper. My therapist had told me many times that my mother’s problems were not my responsibility and that I should never have been forced to act as her guardian during those times when she had bad spells. Now, however, the very person who placed that responsibility upon me was sitting here saying the same thing. I forced myself to calm down.

“Look, Dad, we would just as soon talk to you about this . . . alone. Judith shouldn’t have to be in the middle of this.”

“It’s too late for that,” he replied. “Judith has been in the middle, as you call it, for a long time. Like she said, we met in therapy. Her husband was also schizophrenic.”

“And your children?” Piper asked.

“We didn’t have children,” Judith answered in a soft voice.

Piper smirked. “Well, how lucky for you.”

Judith flinched.

I’d never seen my little sister act like this. Fact was, I’d never seen Piper have this much enthusiasm for anything. Now, however, she was like a pit bull unleashed on a poor unsuspecting kitten.

“Piper, that was uncalled for,” our father declared.

I turned to Judith. “I’m sorry for the hostilities here. You see, I made the mistake of keeping our mother’s illness from my sisters until last night.”

Judith nodded. “It’s not your fault or theirs. Your feelings are valid and you all have a right to be angry. Your father should have told you years ago about her condition.”

“I suppose I should have,” Dad began, “but I didn’t see how it would help.”

Geena fidgeted with the tail of her button down shirt. “It might have helped us to better understand some of the things that happened.”

Dad turned his attention back to me. “Did it? Does it help you now to know the truth? Did it help you these last years, Bailee?”

I shook my head. “Not completely. It gave me something to focus on, but . . .” I fell silent. I realized that knowing of my mother’s mental illness had never made the circumstance of the past any better. It didn’t resolve anything for me—it only created more questions, more worries.

“Your mother’s sickness had to be frightening to all of you,” Judith said. “Your father told me there were times when you were put in danger.”

I looked at him and could feel the heat of his betrayal stain my cheeks. “You knew about those times? You knew and did nothing?”

“Oh, he did plenty,” Piper snarked.

I waved my hand to silence her. “You knew Mom put our lives in danger, yet you left us alone with her? You knew we could be harmed but didn’t stop it?”

“I did what I could. I hired people to help—to watch her and be there for you. I tried to get the doctors to help me, help her.” He lowered his head. “Your mother thought it was a big conspiracy to see her out of the picture.”

“And was it?” Geena asked.

His head snapped up. “No. It was never that. I wanted her to get better. I loved her and wanted our family to be together. But her mind told her otherwise. Her mind told her that everyone was against her—that we wanted to hurt her. She was convinced that doctors were spies for the government, that medication was poison.”

He got up and walked to the fireplace. “I tried to convince her that she could beat this thing. When she was on medication and feeling better, I would try to explain to her what was happening. She didn’t believe me. I think explaining only served to make things worse. I suppose I thought it would do the same with you girls. I mean, if you knew the truth . . .” His words faded.

If only he had known the truth, I thought. That was the thing I wasn’t sure about now, however. How much had he known? Did he realize how many times she’d nearly caused our deaths?

“We know the truth,” Piper said. “We’ve known it for a long, long time.”

I looked at her. My fingers tingled, knowing the time had come for the truth. Geena went to sit beside Piper on the arm of the chair.

“She’s right, Dad,” Geena added. “We know.”

“Know what?” he asked.

“We know what really happened—to Mom.” Geena said, crossing her arms. “We’re tired of playing games.” Apparently Piper’s anger was spreading.

Our father and Judith exchanged a look that resembled a cross between disgust and surprise. Dad’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“Mom,” Geena said, then hesitated. “Her death.”

Dad moved back to the sofa and reclaimed a seat beside Judith. He looked dazed, lost. I almost felt sorry for him and wished we’d never started this. Almost. I didn’t really want to cause Dad pain . . . but I did want answers.

For several moments no one said a word. That it should be Judith who encouraged him to tell the truth was almost offensive.

“Apparently they know the worst of it, Tony. It’s time you all sorted through the details of this and talked about what really happened.”

Piper was livid. “How can you act as though it’s nothing more important than explaining how the vacuum runs? Our mother died a horrible death and you sit there with the knowledge of it? You knew and married our father anyway?”

Judith looked puzzled. “Why shouldn’t I have? I had heard Tony—your father—speak about your mother’s death in our sessions. It was an awful death, but it has nothing to do with the way I feel about him.”

“How can you say that? It makes you, in a fashion, an accessory to murder,” Geena declared. She shook her head. “Surely you don’t think it was right?”

Dad inched forward on the sofa. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on,” Piper said, her voice breaking. She began to cry. “Don’t lie to us anymore. We deserve to have the truth.”

“We already know that,” Geena said, putting her hand on Piper’s shoulder. “What we want to know is why. Why was that the only solution to the problem?”

I watched Dad carefully. He seemed genuinely confused. He met my gaze and shook his head. “What are they talking about?”

Squaring my shoulders, I felt the weight of responsibility once again settle upon me. “We were watching that night.”

“What night?”

I looked at Dad, unwilling to turn away. “Mom’s last night.”

“Watching what?” he asked.

“We were watching from right up there,” Piper said, pointing to the landing on the stairs. “We saw everything.” She wiped angrily at her tears.

“I don’t know what you think you saw, but maybe you could explain.”

“Dad, we didn’t say anything because . . . well . . . we didn’t know what to say. We knew you were doing it for us,” I offered. “We felt obligated to keep the secret.”

Geena had apparently had enough. She got to her feet and fixed her hands to her waist. “We saw you mixing drugs into Mom’s hot chocolate. We know you overdosed her—killed her. We know you did it for us, because we heard you say as much. We’ve lived with this knowledge for fifteen years. Fifteen years of pretending our father wasn’t a murderer—no matter the reason.”

Judith’s mouth dropped open. She turned, eyes wide, to look at Dad. “Tony,” she whispered his name. “Oh, Tony.”

Dad didn’t react at all like I had figured. He sat staring at us as if we’d suddenly changed into objects he couldn’t begin to recognize. I felt a tingling run up my spine. What had we just done?