House Of Secrets (7 page)

“And that’s a bad thing?” Geena asked. “I love London. It would be great to have you there—a perfect excuse for us to come and visit.”

I watched Piper give another little shrug before turning her attention to the food on her plate. “I don’t know,” she said before taking a bite.

“Travel can be exhausting,” I said. “I have to decide about taking a job in New York City, and if I do, I have to figure out whether I’ll move or commute.”

“That’s a long commute to do every day,” Geena commented.

“It is,” I agreed. “Although I wouldn’t have to make it every day. I could work part-time at home. But they’re offering me a really nice sublet in the city. I could even live there full time.”

“And you haven’t jumped at the chance? Do you know how hard it is to get decent housing in New York?”

“I do know. I just don’t know that I want to live there. I mean, you and Piper are in Boston. You’re my family.”

Geena shook her head. “I don’t intend to be there for the rest of my life, and Piper already has a chance to leave. You certainly don’t have to think about us.”

Her words hurt me, but I didn’t want to admit it. “I like thinking about you. I thought we were close.”

“Of course we are.” Geena’s expression suggested I’d said something stupid. “That doesn’t mean we spend the rest of our lives living under the same roof or even in the same town.”

I knew that much was true, but I couldn’t deny that I felt responsible for them in a strange way. Ever since we’d been young it had been my job to keep track of them. Momma had given me that job—to help her so that they wouldn’t be stolen away from us.

“Do you remember when Mom was worried about that serial killer?” Geena asked, as if reading my mind.

“Why do you ask?”

She laughed. “I don’t know; it just came to mind. I guess I have this memory of us hiding in a safe room or something. Do you remember that?”

I gave a slow nod. “Mom used to have us hide in different places when we were little.”

“A serial killer?” Piper asked.

“Yes. About the time you were born there was a serial killer on the loose who targeted children. We were living in Texas,” I added, “and even though the murders were taking place in the Midwest, Momma was terrified for us. The man was especially fond of little girls.” I didn’t bother to mention that our mother’s paranoia had started long before that particular turn of events.

“I remember I could never get very far out of her sight.” Geena took another bite of her food.

Or mine
, I thought. I didn’t say it though.

“Did they ever catch the guy?” Piper asked.

“Yeah, but not until long after Mom was gone,” I said.

“She used to say she was helping the FBI hunt down the killer,” Geena told Piper. “Remember, I told you that a long time ago.”

Piper nodded. “But what if she really did help?”

“She had Dad convinced for a while. She kept talking about all that she was doing and it sounded real enough,” Geena said. “I suppose she might have gone to the FBI and tried to help them. I can’t imagine how, but maybe she thought there was something she could offer. Frankly, I think she just told us that stuff so we’d feel safe.”

My mind began to race, my mother’s words echoing in my head. She was adamant that we be on our guard. Every stranger was a possible threat. Every man had the potential to be a killer. As a result, I lived in fear. My therapist often said it was one of the reasons I found it impossible to connect and commit to another human being—especially a man.

“Momma was so saddened by the stories in the paper,” I said without thought. “I remember her sharing them with me and crying. She said it wasn’t just the serial killer who stole children, however.” I looked at my sisters and shook my head. “She said the FBI had been doing it for a long, long time and no one had the guts to challenge them on it.”

Piper looked at her plate and pushed it back. “Why would she say things like that?”

“Because she was afraid it was true,” Geena replied. “Mom had problems like that. She was afraid of a lot of things.”

“Aren’t we all?” Piper said.

She was right, but I didn’t want to comment. I wanted the conversation to move to other topics. Instead, Geena forced the subject to become more personal for me.

“Does being afraid keep you from agreeing to get serious about Mark Delahunt?”

I looked at her in surprise. “Why do you ask that?”

A hint of a smile crept onto her face. “Don’t you think it’s time someone did? I mean, he’s quite the catch, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t.”

Geena laughed. “You are so touchy about anything related to him. I think you care a great deal about him.”

“Maybe I do, but that doesn’t mean it’s open for discussion.”

“We’re supposed to be close, right? You expect us to freely discuss our love lives,” Geena replied.

“Or lack thereof,” Piper added.

“But I’m your big sister. I’m supposed to ask about those kinds of things,” I protested.

“Oh really?” Geena looked at me with a raised brow. “Where’s that one written down? Is there a secret handbook for firstborns that I don’t know about?”

The conversation was getting completely out of hand and I knew there was only one way to get the topic off of my dating or not dating Mark. “Look,” I said, “Dad gets here in twenty-four hours. We need to decide what we’re going to do.” It was a cheap shot, but I knew I had to take it. “Are we going to ask him for the truth?”

T
he next day we waited rather impatiently. With spaghetti simmering on the stove, we watched the clock, feeling the tension mount as we anticipated Dad’s arrival. We’d all agreed that we would talk to him about the past and clear the air once and for all. We just weren’t sure how to go about such a task. Should we eat first and then bring it up? Should we just get right to it and use food as a distraction when things got rough? Unfortunately, there wasn’t a manual that told you how to go about confronting your father for murdering your mother.

Piper had suggested we make Dad a special meal, and so the spaghetti supper was born. Geena and I had long ago mastered a recipe that everyone seemed to like, so we went to work on that while Piper put together a salad and garlic bread.

By the time Dad arrived, the rain had stopped. He came into the house and stood for a moment just looking around. We hadn’t seen him since Piper’s graduation and that had been for only a few hours. He was always traveling for business, it seemed.

“Well, the remodel was money well invested,” he said, turning to where the three of us girls stood. “You have any trouble getting here?” He put his suitcases by the stairs.

“No. We pretty much drove right to it, thanks to the GPS,” Geena answered.

“And the caretakers had it clean and fully stocked,” I added.

“I don’t remember much about this place or town,” Piper offered with a sigh. “I feel like it’s all new to me.”

He nodded but changed the subject. “What smells so good?”

“We made a special dinner . . . spaghetti,” Piper said, smiling. “We used the very best ingredients—fresh everything. Come and sit.”

Why did I have the feeling we were coaxing an old dog to the vet to be put down? Dad’s whole demeanor was foreign to me. He was still the same no-nonsense sort of man, but there was something about him that I couldn’t quite figure out. I’d had that feeling at Piper’s graduation as well, but there hadn’t been time to investigate it—maybe now there was.

“I’m starved,” he said, taking a seat. “Seems that flight out here gets longer every time I take it, and I was only coming from Chicago.” He took up his napkin and looked at it for a moment. “These must be new.”

I glanced at the orange, green, and white-striped cloth and nodded. “Maybe they were added during the remodel.”

“You’re probably right.” He glanced around again. “Doesn’t look much like it used to.”

Geena went to the kitchen and returned with the spaghetti, while Piper brought freshly toasted garlic bread.

“I know this might seem strange, but if you don’t mind,” Dad said as we joined him at the table, “I’d like to offer a prayer.”

The three of us fixed him with an identical look of shock. Our father had never been known for his spiritual convictions.

He smiled, knowing he’d taken us by surprise. “I’ll explain in a minute.” He bowed his head and began to pray.

Geena and Piper closed their eyes, but I just sat there, too stunned to act. Our mother had been devoted to church, but not so much our dad. To hear him pray and act as though this were an everyday occurrence was more than I could ignore.

“Amen.” He ended the prayer and reached for the salad. “This all looks wonderful. I sure am glad you all could come here. We’re going to have a great time.”

“You didn’t exactly give us much of a choice,” Geena said, taking the words right out of my mouth.

He looked a little sheepish. “I know, and for that I apologize. I was just . . . well . . . enthusiastic about my news. I didn’t want any of you to miss it, and I didn’t want to just share it at home like it was nothing special.”

“So what is this all about?” I asked. “You have to admit that coming back to this house wasn’t exactly something any of us anticipated. And now you open the evening in prayer. I’d say there’s a lot of explaining that needs to follow.”

Dad smiled, not in the leastwise offended, and passed the salad to Piper. “I’ve just got a lot to share with you girls, and this seemed like the right place and time.”

We passed the food around and once our plates were full, looked again to Dad for a continuation of his explanation.

“Is there coffee?” he asked, as if he didn’t notice our interest.

Geena nodded and got to her feet. “I’ll get it.”

“Thanks.” He twirled spaghetti onto his fork and then stuffed it in his mouth.

I leaned back in my chair and toyed with a piece of garlic toast. I watched Dad to see if I could discern anything out of order. The only thing that seemed different about him was a new haircut. Had he actually spiked his graying hair?

“So you’ve been gone an awful lot this year,” Piper said. “Does that have something to do with this sudden urge to vacation in Bremerton?”

Her tone was sarcastic, but Dad didn’t seem to mind. He continued eating and nodded. In between bites, he spoke. “It is. I’m really sorry that I was gone so much. Of course, you gals are grown women now and hardly need your father hanging around.”

Piper frowned. “You haven’t hung around since Mom died.”

I couldn’t help but suck in air rather noticeably. Geena looked at me and shrugged. I supposed it was inevitable—the game was on. There was no turning back now. Piper had rattled the box of secrets and was determined to lift the lid.

Dad put his fork down and looked at her. “You’re right, of course. I haven’t been a good father to you since that day.” He picked up a piece of toasted bread and sobered even more. “No, I was never a good father, period. I don’t blame you for being upset with me. I suppose that’s why I wanted you three to be the first to know about some changes I’ve made in my life.”

Piper sat back and folded her arms. “Like what? Praying before meals?”

I didn’t fault Piper for her words—she wasn’t saying anything the rest of us weren’t thinking. But as I looked at Dad, I found myself actually becoming rather annoyed. All of my life I’d felt like I had to make excuses for this man, for the fact that he hadn’t bothered to be around for our upbringing.

Dad dropped his gaze, and when he looked up again at us, his expression was mixed. Regretful, yes. But it also possessed a measure of determination. “I’ve gotten my life on track with God.”

You could have heard a pin drop on a pile of pillow stuffing. Geena narrowed her eyes. “Exactly what is that supposed to mean?”

He took another bite before answering, in no hurry to accommodate his stupefied daughters. Since when had God even entered into the picture? In our family, church and God had been something Momma instigated, and because of that, it just as quickly left when she died. Now I was truly starting to feel angry. How dare he come to us after years of all but ignoring us emotionally, to tell us that he’d found God? I suppose next he’d be seeking forgiveness and expecting us to overlook his absence.

“I want to tell you more about that in a little bit. First, however, there’s something else you need to know,” Dad continued. “I know this will come as a shock, but I hope you will hear me out.”

“This doesn’t sound like good news,” I said, feeling great trepidation. “You said you had something good to tell us.”

He grinned. “It is good news. At least to me. I’m hopeful it will be for you as well, because it’s something that makes me really happy.”

“So tell us already,” Geena demanded.

Our gathering was beginning to feel like an interrogation, and not with the list of questions that we had figured to deal out.

“I’ve remarried.”

I felt as if I couldn’t breathe. I looked at him to gauge his seriousness and could see that he was telling it to us straight.

“You remarried?” Piper was the first to speak. “Just like that?”

Dad had the audacity to chuckle. “No, not exactly. I’ve known Judith for some time now. She’s worked with me for years.”

“Judith? The same Judith who manages your office in Chicago?” Geena questioned.

“The same. Judith and I have been friends for a long time,” he continued. “I hope you’ll welcome her, spend some time getting to know her.” He picked up his garlic toast again. “Our love for each other grew out of a solid friendship. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever known.”

“Not even with Mom?” Piper asked.

He frowned. “Your mother . . . well . . .” He looked at Piper. “Never mind.”

His tone left me chilled. To hear him now made me feel that perhaps we should let things drop. Maybe it was best that he didn’t want to talk about her after all these years. Maybe we had it good and just didn’t realize it. Fear was starting to replace my anger.

I thought back to the day I’d overheard our housekeeper, Mrs. Brighton, on the phone. I never knew who she was speaking with, but her comment to the listener held me in place until the end of the conversation.

“The poor kids. Their mother killed herself a year or so ago. It’s tragic to be sure. Their poor father never wants to even speak her name. I’ve never seen anyone grieve so hard.”

The words echoed in my mind even as I came to realize that Piper had gotten to her feet. I tried to focus on the matter at hand.

“You didn’t even bother to let us in on this.” Piper leaned on the table. “Now you want us to spend time with her? Get to know her? Should I call her Mommy?”

“Piper, calm yourself.” Geena turned to Dad. “It is a shock, you have to admit. We came here figuring you might want to tell us something else.”

“Like what?”

I shook my head and jumped up. “Look, like Geena said, this is a shock. I think we all need time to digest it.”

“Well, that’s why I came out here today. Judith is arriving tomorrow morning at SeaTac. I’ll pick her up and be back in time for lunch. I’m hoping we can go somewhere nice. Maybe up to the Yacht Club in Silverdale.”

“I can’t believe you can just act as if this is all perfectly fine.” Piper shook her head and knocked her chair backward in order to leave. “This family has issues to talk about. This family has spent a lifetime with secrets and heartache. We didn’t need a new mother. We needed answers.” She ran out before Dad could even reply.

He looked at Geena and then at me. “What was that all about? What kind of answers is she looking for?”

Geena got to her feet. “I’d better go see if I can calm her down.”

I felt usurped. Overseeing Geena and Piper’s well-being was my job. Instead, Geena left me to face Dad on my own. What was I supposed to do now? I couldn’t very well just blurt out the fact that we knew he’d overdosed our mother and we wanted to discuss it.

“I knew this would be a surprise for everyone, but I certainly didn’t expect hostility.” Dad sighed. “I suppose you’re mad at me too?”

I shook my head. “I’m not sure what I’m feeling. Confused might be the best way to describe it.”

He frowned. “Why confused?”

“You said you would never remarry.”

“That was because I felt you girls needed me to remain single.”

His answer threw me. “Why would you think that?”

He gave up trying to eat and looked at me. “I figured I needed to be devoted to your welfare.”

“And being gone three hundred days out of the year accomplished that? Sending us to boarding schools met that need?” Now I was getting mad again. I thought of the things my counselor had said about confronting the past. I tried to calm myself. “Dad, you were always gone—or we were.”

“True, but I sent you to the best schools. I worked harder and longer hours to make sure you wanted for nothing. I tried to spend as much time as I could at home in the summer when you girls were there.”

“We lived with housekeepers and nannies,” I said, my sense of disbelief quite evident. “Yes, our schooling was the best, but we were alone except for each other. Had you not insisted they room us together in the early years, we would have run away. We were left alone far too much, and the one person we wanted—needed—was you.”

He looked hurt, but what I’d said was the truth. He shook his head slowly and glanced upward. “I know I wasn’t a good father. I hope you’ll forgive me for that.”

“It’s got nothing to do with forgiveness. We lost our mother—we were three little girls whose lives had been completely turned upside down. But instead of getting us counseling or even just encouraging us to talk to you—you sent us away.” I was frighteningly calm and to the point. “We were alone and terrified.”

Dad reached out a hand toward me, then dropped it. It hung limply at his side. “I’m so very sorry. I never intended for you to be hurt that way. God knows you had already endured so much.”

“What’s with all this forgiveness and God stuff?” I asked. “You were never concerned about these things when we were growing up.”

“I know, and I’m sorrier about that than anything else.”

Sorrier than for killing our mother?

I didn’t ask the question aloud, but I wanted to. I thought of Mark and something he’d once said about God making us into something new. I hadn’t given it much thought at the time because religious nonsense wasn’t of interest. Now, however, I found myself wishing I knew more. Was religion why Dad had a different look? Was he trying to be something—someone—new? How could he possibly do that without dealing with who he was and what he did in the past?