by Lyn Gardner
“What do you mean?”
“She wasn’t my aunt.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Neither said a word as they were led through a house smelling of Ivory soap and pastel mints. The surroundings were to be expected, walls covered in photographs spanning generations, crystal bowls on end tables holding gumdrops and hard candy, and a crocheted blanket draped over the back of the sofa. Nestled between a recliner and a table was a wicker basket stuffed with skeins of yarn, and knitting needles stood at the ready, sprouting from the threads like off-shoots of a plant.
The essence changed once they reached the kitchen, the fragrance of cherry pie filling the room, and as seats were offered and taken, they waited in silence. One wanted to speak, to demand answers to questions ravaging her mind, and the other hoped the answers wouldn’t hurt as much as she already knew they would. There was no other explanation.
The coffee maker hissed its final hiss, and coffee, steaming and dark was placed in front of them, and as soon as the last took her seat, Robin reached down and opened her backpack. Pulling out two pieces of paper, she slid one in front of Maxine. “You once told me that you and Adele had no secrets, so I need you to explain why this birth certificate lists George and Maureen Anderson as Adele’s parents when those people aren’t my grandparents. At first, I thought maybe she was adopted, maybe at such a young age that my mother never thought to mention it, but according to her high school diploma...” Robin pushed the other paper in front of Maxine. “According to this, Adele attended school in Grandville, Michigan while my mother, her supposed sister, went to one just outside of Fort Wayne, Indiana, two hundred flipping miles away!”
“Robin,” Judy said, her volume only slightly lower than Robin’s. “You’re shouting.”
“What?”
“You’re shouting.”
Maxine patted Judy’s hand. “That’s all right, dear. She has a right to shout.” Maxine looked at the untouched mugs on the table and shook her head. “I think this is going to call for something a little bit stronger than my coffee.”
Getting up from the table, Maxine returned a minute later with three glasses and a bottle of eighteen-year-old Chivas Regal. After pouring a splash into each squatty tumbler, she slipped back into her chair.
Robin paid no attention to the buttery toffee aroma, nor would she appreciate the mellow smokiness of the liquor. All she wanted to do was dull her senses, and picking up her glass, she drained it in one swallow and then slammed it down on the table.
Without saying a word, Maxine refilled it, before taking a sip of her own. She knew the truth, but there was no way to dull the edge of its blade. It was going to cut and cut deeply. Secrets do that.
Fact is based on logic. Deductive reasoning applied in science, medicine, or mystery games, it’s used to solve the questions asked, to cure a disease, or to appease curiosity piqued. The world was flat until proven otherwise. Tens of thousands died until one man broke through the barrier of polio, and countless have announced it was Colonel Mustard in the library with the candlestick. For many, the words fact and truth are interchangeable, one swapped for the other at any given time, but there is a subtle difference between the two, and Robin knew it. Facts are more permanent and rarely do they change, but truth...the truth can change in an instant.
Robin exhaled ever so slowly. She knew she needed to say the words, to put them out into the universe and make them tangible, but once she did, there was no going back. She knew the truth, too. She could feel it inside of her, and like a flame to a photo, in Robin’s mind, the edges of her life were curling up and turning to ash. Lies can do that.
Robin’s eyes were glassy as she raised them to look at Maxine and when she forced the words from her throat, they came out in a ragged whisper. “They were lovers, weren’t they?”
Judy winced. Two hours earlier, she had sat cross-legged on the basement floor feeling more helpless than she had ever felt before as Robin tore through the contents of the footlocker. The first nail of reality’s coffin was a photograph of a husband who wasn’t. The second, a birth certificate of a woman whose DNA would contain no markers matching Robin’s, and the rest were the random photos of two women whose smiles were far too radiant, far too intimate. While Judy hadn’t dared to pose the possibility, as preposterous as it seemed to be, it had existed in her mind nevertheless.
“Yes,” Maxine said, bowing her head. “Yes, they were.”
Robin’s eyes overflowed with tears. Brushing them off her cheeks, she reached for her glass and emptied it again. “I can’t believe this,” she said, shaking her head.
Maxine covered Robin’s hand with her own. “I’m sorry—”
“How long?” Robin said, snatching her hand away. “How long was this going on?”
Maxine sighed. “They met in college. Adele was in her third year. Your mother had just started.”
Robin rocked back in her chair, and running her fingers through her hair, she glared at Maxine. “Keep going. I want to know it all.”
“Robin, please understand—”
“Just tell me, Maxine. Just tell me.”
Maxine took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Like I said, they met in college. The way Adele described it to me, it was instant, like a...a flash of a match when it’s struck. She saw your mother in a hallway. Your mother saw her, and that was it. At first, they were just friends, but during spring break of that year, they went on vacation together and...and things changed.”
“I can only guess how,” Robin mumbled.
Maxine nodded. “And they continued their...um...their affair until just before your mother graduated. That’s when she broke it off.”
“Why?”
“Because they had different dreams.” Maxine paused to take a sip of her drink. “Since Adele was a child, her dream had always been to move to Mackinac. She used to visit her grandparents in Cheboygan during the summer, and they’d bring her here for fudge and carriage rides. She fell in love with the island, and that love never wavered.”
“But my mother’s did?”
“No, her love for Adele never wavered, but your mother wanted something Adele couldn’t give her.”
“What?”
“You.”
Robin grunted. “Yeah, well, she had a funny way of showing it. You don’t have a child and tell them that you love them, and then lie to them their entire life.”
“Don’t you ever—ever—doubt your mother’s love for you, young lady!” Maxine said, raising her voice. “Constance walked away from the love of her life to marry your father because she wanted a child more than anything else in this world. So, put your petty hurt feelings where the sun doesn’t shine because you have no right to judge your mother.”
“I most certainly—”
“No, you don’t,” Maxine said, pointing her arthritic finger at Robin. “You need to remember that your mother knew what she was, and she still married a man...for you. If that’s not love, if that’s not sacrifice, if that’s not what makes a parent a parent, then may God strike me dead right now!”
The only thing daring to make a sound in the kitchen was the cuckoo clock on the wall as it ticked off the seconds. Although no handprint was left behind, Maxine had just slapped Robin in the face with her words, and the sting momentarily put a damper on Robin’s ever-increasing anger.
“I’m sorry,” Robin whispered. “I know my mother loved me, but it’s clear she...she never broke it off, at least not for long.” Robin raised her eyes. “Were you a part of the charade? Part of this farce to make everyone believe they were sisters?”
“No, and it didn’t start out being a charade. It was just a way to shut people up. Adele had no idea at the time she laid the groundwork for what was to come.”
Robin narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“I wasn’t lying when I said your mother broke it off. She did, and Adele was devastated. I have never seen anyone so...so ravaged by loss. By then, she’d
been living on the island for over a year, and everyone here is like family, so we all noticed it. She was losing weight she couldn’t afford to lose. She was pale, withdrawn, and crying. God, she cried every day, and everyone kept asking her why. We weren’t trying to pry. We were trying to help, but our questions were just making it worse, so one day when someone asked, Adele told them that her husband had been killed in Vietnam. Thousands of boys were killed over there, and anyone with one speck of decency knows you don’t bring up pain like that if you know a person is mourning.”
“So everyone stopped asking.”
Maxine nodded again. “And, of course, when she began becoming herself again, we all thought it was because of the space we gave her, but years later I found out, it had nothing to do with us and everything to do with the letters she got from Virgil.”
“Virgil?” Judy said, looking back and forth between Robin and Maxine. “As in Virgil Jankowski?”
“That’s the one,” Maxine said.
“Who was he?” Robin asked.
“Adele’s best friend. They grew up together and went to the same schools all the way through college, which is how he met your mother. Adele told me that because of some sort of farming accident when he was a kid, Virgil wasn’t eligible for the draft, so after they graduated, he took a job in California, but he never lost touch with either of them. When he found out your mother had broken off—”
“Wait. He knew about them?”
“Yes. Like I said, Virgil and Adele had known each other for years. He already knew she was gay, but since your mother was so guarded about her relationship with Adele, Virgil never let on to Constance he knew. When your mother broke it off, Virgil could tell by Adele’s letters, she was circling the drain. I mean, imagine loving someone so much and then suddenly having no idea whether they were dead or alive or...or struggling. He knew he had to try to ease her pain somehow, so he began sharing what Constance told him in her letters. If I remember correctly, Adele said that went on for over four years.”
Robin did the math and folded her arms. “So right after my father died, they got back together. That’s just wonderful.”
“No, they didn’t. All Adele did was send a sympathy card. She didn’t expect any response. She just did what people who care do. She sent her condolences with no strings attached, but a few weeks later, your mother wrote back.”
“And that’s when they came up with this scheme? This sister thing?”
“Adele said that once they started writing back and forth, it was obvious to both that their feelings hadn’t changed. It was only going to be a matter of time before they could see each other again, and they knew they’d have to explain their relationship.”
“Why not just be best friends?”
“That was your mother’s idea except Adele knew that wouldn’t work as long as Portia Kalos lived on the island.”
Robin glanced at Judy and seeing her shrug, she looked back at Maxine. “Who was she?”
“An old, bitter woman who had more hate in her veins than blood. She moved to the island after splitting up with her husband. Since Portia lived off the proceeds of the divorce, she had lots of time on her hands which she used to turn everyone else’s lives into pure hell if she could. She used to spread unfounded rumors, peppering people with assumptions and making up gossip just to see them squirm, and one of those was a young man Portia found...um...a little too feminine for her liking.”
“In other words, she was homophobic,” Robin said matter-of-factly.
“Yes, and Adele was smart enough to know that an explanation as simple as best friends would be like chum in the water for Portia.”
“So they became sisters instead,” Robin muttered. “Right?”
Maxine tipped her head. “By that time, your grandparents and Adele’s parents were already gone, and since neither Constance nor Adele had any siblings, there was no one to disprove their relationship. So, Adele began slowly mentioning her sister around the island. Nothing too over-the-top, but just enough that people knew she had a sister, and when asked why she hadn’t mentioned Constance before, she simply said they’d had a falling out, but they finally mended the fence.”
Robin let out a long, audible breath and then ran her fingers through her hair. “They had an argument.”
“What?”
“That’s what my mother told me,” Robin said softly as she closed her eyes. “She was sitting at the dining room table one night, writing a letter. It was after my father had died because I remember there were toys everywhere, and he didn’t like that.” Robin opened her eyes and looked at Maxine. “I kept...I kept asking her what she was doing, tugging on her skirt until she finally answered. She said she was writing to her sister. They’d had a bad argument a long time ago, but they made up and said they were sorry...and that was it. The seed was planted.”
“Yes, but it still took a few more years before your mother dared to visit.”
“Why?”
Maxine leaned back in her chair, and taking a moment, she thought about how to answer. “Robin, Adele didn’t give a damn about what people thought. She would have walked down Main Street wrapped in a rainbow flag without blinking an eye, but your mother...your mother, was just the opposite. She was terrified of anyone finding out, so until she was sure Adele had covered all the bases, she wouldn’t come here.”
“So they just wrote back and forth for what...four, five years?”
“That’s about right.”
“Wow. My mom really knew how to string someone along, didn’t she?”
Maxine pursed her lips as she glared across the table. “It’s called patience, Robin. It’s called knowing who you want and knowing what you’ll do in order to have them.”
“If you say so,” Robin said, flicking a non-existent speck off the tablecloth. “And their affair? I’m assuming it started right back up once we came up here for vacation.”
“Yes, and no,” Maxine said softly. “Adele told me it was instant, just like when they first met. There was no denying their feelings for each other, but if you remember, her house back then was small. There wasn’t a lot of privacy, so it wasn’t until you stopped coming here with your mother when they…um…when they reconnected.”
Robin huffed. “No wonder she put me in summer camp.”
“If memory serves, Adele told me your mother did that because you never came out of your room when you were up here. Something about only wanting to read books, I think?”
“But it still gave them the opportunity to...to do what they wanted.”
“Yes, it did.”
“My mom must have been jumping for joy when I actually liked camp.”
“She just wanted you to be happy and get out of yourself. It seems to have worked.”
Robin set her jaw, glaring at Maxine for a second before picking up her drink and finishing it off in one swallow. “Wait,” she said, placing the glass back on the table. “What about the men my mother dated? Rita said something about her seeing...damn, I can’t remember his name.”
“Ted Owens?”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“He was the young fellow on the receiving end of Portia Kalos’ rumors. I’m not sure how Adele knew the rumors were true, but she did. Without telling your mother, she approached him with an idea after you and Constance visited for the second time. To quiet Portia once and for all, and to cement their own secret, Adele asked him to pretend to date your mother whenever she visited. Ted was as fearful about being found out as your mother was, so he readily agreed, and the next time your mother was here, they went out to dinner together, and that was that.”
“And the other men?”
“Seasonal workers,” Maxine said with a wave of her hand. “Your mother was an attractive woman, so after Ted moved away, if someone asked, she’d say yes to a dinner or a lunch.”
“And then she’d go back home to Adele.”
“That’s right,” Maxine said before pushing herself out of her cha
ir. “And now, I have something to give you.”
Watching as Maxine left the room, Judy turned to Robin. “Are you okay?”
Clenching her jaw, Robin shook her head as she glared at Judy. “What do you think? I just found out my mother was gay, and she was...she was screwing Adele every chance she got.”
“Robin, I don’t think—”
“These are for you,” Maxine said, placing a stack of white over-sized envelopes on the table. “Adele asked me to hold on to them for safekeeping. There’s more I need to give you, but I think you should see these first.”
Robin glared at the envelopes and shook her head. “I have a question for you.”
“Okay,” Maxine said as she slipped into her chair.
“A few days after my mom died, Adele called and told me she wasn’t feeling well, and she wasn’t going to make it to my mother’s memorial service. If they were so much in love, how could a cold have stopped her from making that trip?”
Judy sat straighter in her chair. “Wait. She didn’t have a cold,” she said, glancing at Maxine. “It was because of that fall she took. I remember you telling me she was going to miss her sister’s service because of it, and that’s why I ended up working at Safe Harbor that year, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Maxine said as she turned her attention to Robin. “After you called to tell Adele your mother had died, she collapsed and fell down the basement steps, but it wasn’t those injuries that prevented her from making the trip.”
“Then why didn’t she go?”
“Robin, it’s one thing when someone loses a brother or a sister, but when you lose the love of your life, mourning takes on a whole new meaning, and Adele knew she’d never be able to hold it together in front of you. She cried for weeks. I honestly can’t remember Adele ever smiling again, ever...ever really talking other than a few words here and there. She walked around in a daze, staring out windows for hours, just...just an empty shell of who she once was. She lost all interest in everything, and when that season ended, and Judy checked out the last guest, Adele never reopened the Inn because it no longer held the promise it once did.”
