House Of Secrets (8 page)

“Look, none of this makes sense. You told me a long time ago that the only things we needed in life were determination and drive. You said that we needed to set a goal and keep our eyes on the mark.”

“And now I’m going to tell you that I was wrong,” he said matter-of-factly. “You need to put your eyes on Jesus.”

I wasn’t about to sit and listen to this rhetoric. “I’m not interested in that.” I looked at him without a shred of compassion. “I want to know why you’ve never been honest with us about Mom.”

He paled and looked more than a little disturbed. “I don’t know what it is you expect me to say.”

“For one, you might like to explain to us about mom’s mental illness. Didn’t you suppose we had a right to know?”

“How did you hear about that?” he asked.

I shook my head. “That’s all that concerns you? How I found out? Not that I should have been told years ago? Not that we all should have been put into therapy after our mother’s death? What about the fact that maybe with a counselor or psychiatrist seeing us on a regular basis, we wouldn’t have all of these secrets between us . . . that maybe I wouldn’t lay awake at night, wondering if one of us might follow in our mother’s footsteps.”

Dad was clearly disturbed—shocked even. It seemed only fair after his little announcement of remarrying, yet I suddenly felt very guilty for having ruined his happiness.

“I never wanted you to know,” he finally said. He sounded so tired.

“But why not?” I asked. “We have a right to know the risks to our own health. We have a right to know a lot of other things too.”

He looked at me and nodded. “I suppose you do.”

A
nswers weren’t forthcoming that night. Geena and Piper were nowhere to be found, and I definitely didn’t want to hold a conversation about Mom’s death on my own. By the time my sisters returned and found me in my bedroom, it was nearly ten and Dad had already gone to bed.

I suggested to my sisters that we do likewise, but Piper wanted no part of that. “How can we just go to bed? I couldn’t sleep if I had to. He’s remarried, just like that? Frankly, the fact that he never even told us he was considering it makes it all very suspicious.”

“Suspicious?” I questioned. “Of what?”

Piper waved her arms as if to emphasize the importance. “Of everything. How could he be carrying on with Judith all this time and not let us know it was getting serious? How could he just remarry without talking to us about it? What if he plans to repeat the past?”

My mind whirled. She was right. How could he be carrying on with Judith all this time and not let us know it was getting serious? How could he just remarry without talking to us about it? What if
he
has some sort of mental disorder? I’d never considered that he could be just as troubled as Momma. “You mean as in overdosing Judith?”

“Exactly,” Piper replied, flipping her bobbed brown hair as she snapped her head toward Geena. “We both think it’s possible, and why not. He did it once.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think that even makes sense. There was a strong reason for doing what he did. He did it for us.”

“What about insurance money?” Geena asked. “Did Mom have a lot of it? Did Dad stand to gain financially?”

I tried to remember if I’d ever seen any life insurance policies. “I have no idea. You are making him really sinister, Geena. I figured he was doing what he did to save us.”

“Save us from what?” Piper asked.

“Our mother and . . .” I let the words fade. I wasn’t ready yet to talk about her problems. I really wanted to talk to Dad about it first. I wanted him to tell us the truth in his own words—from his firsthand knowledge. He would have been the one the doctors talked to. He would have received all of the intricate details of mom’s condition.

“That’s why I want him to come clean about the past,” Geena threw out, “even if it means he has to face punishment for what he did.”

“I’m starting to feel the same way,” Piper said, surprising me.

“You two really want to see Dad go to jail?”

“No,” Geena replied. “I want to see this family set free of the past. If it takes that—then we’ll just have to accept the price.”

I hesitated a moment. I wasn’t at all sure how Dad’s going to prison would set us free. But right now I wanted nothing more than to let someone else take charge. Geena and Piper were grown women after all. It wasn’t my place to watch over them anymore. Frankly, like my therapist said, it was never my place. I had been playing guardian to them at the cost of my own childhood. A childhood that had already been robbed by a mother disconnected from reality.

“I think we should get Dad up and make him talk about this,” Geena continued. “He plans to go get Judith in the morning, and we should have this out before she arrives.”

“She shouldn’t come here at all,” Piper said.

I silently agreed. “Maybe we should be the ones to leave.”

Geena raised a brow. “And run away from the truth?”

I considered all of the things that I knew that they didn’t. The truth they wanted so much to know was going to change their lives forever. I feared none of us was really prepared for this.

“Is Dad downstairs?” Piper asked, heading for the door.

“No, actually he set himself up in the guest cottage. He thought we might be more comfortable that way,” I replied. The two-bedroom cottage was plenty big for a family of four and would amply accommodate Dad and Judith.

“Why don’t we just plan to talk to him in the morning?” I suggested. “We can meet over breakfast.”

“I suppose that’ll work,” Geena said, glancing at her watch. “He’s always up early.”

I nodded. “At least by five thirty. Why don’t we plan to get up around that time too. We can explain that we need to talk and try again to get to the bottom of this mess.”

Five thirty in the morning was a time for complete lunatics, I decided. Maybe that’s why it seemed appropriate for our discussion. Geena had taken on breakfast preparations, while Piper said she’d go to the cottage and get Dad.

“I have this under control,” Geena commented over her shoulder. “You might as well just take your cup of coffee and go sit down.”

I yawned and grabbed my cup. Wandering out to the dining room, I found I couldn’t get Mark out of my mind. I’d thought about him off and on all night . . . and to be honest, I thought about him a lot of the time. I tried to tell myself it was just because of our work projects and the fact that he wanted me to take the position in New York City. But it was a poor excuse. I found myself doing the one thing I’d sworn never to do—call him for a purely personal reason.

“Hey there, I was just thinking about you,” he answered after just one ring.

I felt stumped as to what to say next. “I . . . ah . . . well. . . .” I stopped stammering and tried to think about what I wanted to say. Mark gave me the time. “I guess I just needed a friend.”

“You’ve got it. What’s going on?”

He made it sound so simple and casual—like we did this all the time. He couldn’t possibly realize the importance of this one small action. I left my coffee on the dining room table and walked out on the deck. The sun peeked out above the horizon, radiating beams against a nearly clear sky. It looked as though it would be a beautiful day.

“Remember I told you,” I began, “that my life has a lot of baggage.”

“Sure. Remember I told you that everybody’s life does?”

“Right.” I recalled that only too well. “My father has remarried.” I hadn’t meant to just blurt it out, but of all the things on my mind, it seemed the safest.

“That’s great news, I hope.”

“Not exactly. See, we didn’t even know he was seeing someone.”

“And you’re all jealous that a new woman has come into the picture?” he asked in a teasing manner.

“No. That’s not it at all.” I sighed and took a seat at the deck table. “I can’t really explain.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Okay, I won’t explain. It’s too personal. Too deep and very painful.” I couldn’t believe I was saying all of this.

“That’ll make our conversation harder, but not impossible,” Mark replied. “Why don’t we back up. What do you need in a friend right now?”

I honestly couldn’t tell him. I had spent my life being careful not to cultivate relationships. If friendship was a garden, I had worked 24/7 to pour ground kill on my plot.

“I guess I just wanted . . . well, I needed someone outside of the family. Just needed to step away from the mess and focus on something else. Tell me what’s happening in New York.”

He chuckled. “Well, I miss you. How’s that for starters?”

I shook my head and leaned forward to plant my elbows on the table. “That’s a lousy start. How’s the workload? Did you get the Armstrong contract completed? What about Mary Simpson’s historical on the life of Sarah Polk? Did she get the manuscript turned in?”

“Yes and yes.”

I was more than a little frustrated with his lack of detail. “And what about the Beijing Book Fair? Who’s planning to attend this year?”

“Dad is taking a team of five. Daniel, Leo, Justine, and Michelle, and he’s stealing Sandy from me to act as assistant to them all. It seems she speaks Mandarin fluently. Should come in handy.”

“I should say so.”

I knew this conversation wasn’t at all what I needed or wanted. I wrestled inside my mind. Trust did not come easily to me, and even though Mark had only proved worthy of my confidence, I held myself in check.

“What’s your weather like?” Mark asked since I remained silent.

“This morning is beautiful. But they are too few and far between.” I glanced around and studied the yard for a moment. “The flowers are blooming—the scents are incredible. I like what the caretakers have done with the landscaping. There are a ton of honeysuckle bushes and roses. Everything is blooming early, it seems. Even the hydrangeas are starting. I’d forgotten how much I love the vegetation here.”

“Are you planning to garden while you’re there?” he asked.

“I have no green thumb. I kill houseplants.”

“I’ll try to remember that when I send you flowers.” He sounded amused nevertheless. “So what are your plans for the day? Unloading baggage?”

He caught me unaware and I actually laughed. “Don’t I wish. I mean, that is the plan, but it was also the plan last night.”

“And things got away from you?”

“Completely out of control.”

“And do you think today will go any better?”

I felt strangely at ease with this man. “I hope so. We’re planning a talk with our father this morning.”

“I’ll keep you in my prayers.”

“Funny you should mention that. My dad says he’s gotten his life in order with God. What do you suppose he really means by that?” I already figured I knew the answer, but at least it would give Mark something to talk about other than me.

“I think you should ask him,” Mark said without missing a beat.

Not exactly the answer I had hoped for. I was about to comment on my interpretation of such a statement when I heard Piper ranting about something in the house.

“Look, my sister is back with Dad. I need to go. Thanks for being there.”

“What are friends for?” he said. I could hear the smile in his voice.

“To tell you the truth, I’m not exactly sure. I’ve never really had one.”

I closed my cell phone and went inside. Dad was nowhere to be seen, but Piper was going off about something.

I slipped the cell phone into my jeans. “What’s wrong?” I picked up my coffee and sipped it, thankful it was still fairly warm.

“He’s gone already,” Piper declared. “Dad must have taken the first ferry out, because he’s not there.”

“So much for having a discussion in private,” Geena said, spatula in hand. “So now what? Do we wait until we have him alone? Do we talk to him in front of Judith?”

I had only known Judith as a voice on the telephone, speaking with her only the few times I’d had to call Dad in New York or when Judith had been calling to reach him at home. That was the sum total of my relationship with the woman. I knew she and Dad worked together and had for some time, but other than that, I didn’t know much.

“It’s hardly the kind of subject matter you want to discuss in front of a stranger.” I saw that Geena had cut up fresh strawberries and cantaloupe, and was now finishing up a stack of pancakes. “But she’s not going to be a stranger for long,” I said. I drank the last of my coffee and walked to the pot for a refill. “We might as well eat and figure out what we want to do.”

“I can’t believe he’d just leave like that,” Piper muttered. She pushed past me to get to the refrigerator. “He clearly doesn’t care about what we think.”

“Maybe he got a call and she’s coming in on an earlier flight,” I offered, trying hard to be the voice of reason.

“He should have let us know.” Piper took out the orange juice and slammed the door closed. “He shouldn’t have remarried.”

“Maybe not,” Geena agreed, “but we can’t change that now. The question is . . . can we speak freely in front of our new stepmother?”

I made my way to the table. “Surely we’ll have some time alone with Dad. I wouldn’t want to discuss any of this with Judith. She may be his wife, but she probably doesn’t know all of the problems mom had.”

“Do we even know what kind of problems mom had?” Geena asked, bringing the pancakes. Piper followed with the orange juice, while Geena made another trip for the fruit and a can of whipped cream.

I wanted to confess all that I knew, but I still hesitated. “Mom clearly had depression,” I said. “I remember times when she would just hole up in her room and cry for hours on end.” And I was left to take care of my siblings—even when I was much too young to be able to do the job properly.

“Did she get . . . help . . . treatment for it?” Piper asked hesitantly.

I knew I had to tread carefully. “I think she tried to work through it. There were other things that bothered her as well.”