The Secret of Everything

by O'Neal, Barbara

  “I hate you!” Jade screamed, and jumped up, grabbing Natalie’s hair and yanking so hard it brought tears to Nat’s eyes. “I don’t even want anybody to know you’re my sister!”

  Natalie slammed her back, and they fell into a chair. “I hate you more!”

  Natalie tried to pull away, but Jade yanked her hair again, super, super hard, and Nat stumbled and felt the top of her head go right into Jade’s tooth. They both howled and let go, then Jade screeched, “You broke my tooth!” and punched Natalie right in the eye. Her glasses broke, smashing into her temple.

  It hurt. A lot. Sparks flew across her vision, and circles of pain went around her eye and eyebrow and cheek for what seemed like a long time. She started to cry and wanted to stop fighting, but Jade was so mad, so so so mad, that she came after Natalie again.

  “Quit it!” she screeched, and pulled away. But Jade held on to her sleeve and yanked, and the fabric of her brand-new shirt tore away, right along the shoulder.

  Sasha started barking and barking. Pedro ran out of the kitchen, and Natalie went blind mad. She roared and dove at her sister, and they went down on the floor, scratching and biting and hitting, until there was a big deep roar—a Daddy roar. He hauled Jade into the air, holding her hard against his side. “What the hell is going on here?”

  Natalie sat up and looked at her sleeve, which was torn but also now had blood on it from Jade’s mouth. “She ruined my brand-new beautiful shirt!”

  “She broke my tooth!”

  “She called me an oinker!”

  “STOP it!” Daddy yelled.

  They stopped. He shifted and put Jade on the ground, then looked at her mouth. “It’s broken, all right. What did you hit her with?”

  Natalie bent her head to show him the bleeding place. “She pulled my hair.”

  “Sit at the table, both of you. Don’t move.” He took a couple of sandwich bags out of the cabinet and put ice into each one. Then he got a wet cloth and wiped Jade’s mouth. Natalie felt sick to her stomach, looking at the big gash on Jade’s lip and the broken tooth inside. It made Jade look snaggletoothed, and she would never have made her beautiful sister look ugly, not ever.

  But Jade could be so mean!

  “Your lip won’t need any stitches, but I’m going to have to take you to a dentist tomorrow to get your tooth fixed up.” He filled a glass with water and salt and put a bag of ice in her hand. “Go upstairs and get ready for bed, and don’t brush your teeth. Swish this around in your mouth; then, when you get in bed, put the ice on your lip so it doesn’t get more swollen.”

  “Don’t you want to know what happened?” Jade said.

  “I want you to go to bed, Jade,” he said in his don’t-mess-with-me voice. “I’ll be up in a few minutes to tuck you in.”

  She huffed, but nobody back-talked him when he used that voice. Natalie felt him look at her, but her face hurt and her head hurt and her blouse was wrecked, and all of it came pouring out of her eyes.

  He didn’t say anything, just knelt down in front of her and used a cloth to wash the top of her head, then her face. “You’re going to have one big shiner tomorrow,” he said.

  Natalie nodded, pursing her lips. Hot tears poured out of her eyes as if somebody had turned on the bathtub. “S-or-r-y,” she hiccuped.

  He sat down on the floor in front of her. “What’s going on with you, baby girl?”

  She couldn’t stop crying. Couldn’t stop. It wasn’t loud, but she couldn’t get the tears to quit. They just kept pouring and pouring and pouring. “I … don’t … know.”

  He put the ice on her face, and it felt so good Natalie caught her breath. She looked at him. “Am I in big trouble?”

  “I don’t know right now what your punishment is, baby.” He pushed hair off her face, looked at the cut in her part. “I’m worried about you.”

  She looked down.

  “Why did you steal the jam? Why didn’t you ask for it?”

  She shrugged.

  “Was it because I didn’t get the whole-wheat pasta?”

  “No.” The ice started to burn and she moved it to her eyelid, which hurt a lot. “It wasn’t jam. It was lemon curd, and I wanted to try it.”

  “And you couldn’t just ask?”

  “You guys all think I’m too young to want this stuff. Grandma gets mad at me all the time and won’t buy me anything I like; she always wants me to be somebody else and wear different stuff and eat her stupid food, which is horrible. And when I ask for an apple, she won’t let me have it, and there’s this boy at school who is so mean to me that it makes me scared to go to school, and now my beautiful shirt is ruined, and I …”

  “Oh, honey,” he said, and picked her up like she was a tiny girl. Natalie put her head on his shoulder and let go. She cried and cried and cried and cried, until her eyes were all swollen and she couldn’t breathe because her nose was all stuffed up. But the lava flowed out of her with the tears, and she didn’t feel so furious. Her daddy held her, rocking back and forth, back and forth, rubbing her back as if she was a baby, and Natalie didn’t care that she wasn’t a baby. It felt good.

  After a long time, he took her upstairs and helped her get undressed and put her in a cool shower, which made her face feel better. “You’re going to stay home from school tomorrow and we’ll talk everything out.”

  “Can we fix my shirt?”

  “I’ll do my best, honey, I promise.” He gave her some children’s Advil, then Natalie got into bed. Pedro jumped up on her feet and looked over his shoulder at her daddy, but he didn’t say anything. Natalie put her hand in Pedro’s thick fur and fell asleep so fast she hardly had time to say her prayers.

  TWENTY

  Tessa’s cell phone rang at ten p.m., which seemed late. She gave an exasperated sigh, thinking it was Sam again. She looked at the screen, and she saw it was Vince instead. “Hey,” she said, and it was such a relief to talk to someone that she wanted to double over.

  “Hi. Is this a bad time?” He sounded absolutely exhausted, his voice rough and craggy. “I could use a little female advice about something.”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m sitting here in the dark, listening to the crickets sing and the river swish.”

  “You can hear the river?”

  She took a breath. “I can. It’s a little cottage I rented. Don’t worry, though, I’m not the kind of girl to cramp your style. I’m not going to start ringing you twelve times a day to see what you’re up to.”

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed you’re the really needy type.”

  His voice sounded so good. So good. And yet, just this moment she had so much crap in her head it would hardly be fair to lean on a man who had as much on his own plate.

  Rescue me.

  “You needed advice with something?”

  “Yeah, my daughters had a big fight. Natalie was wearing a brand-new shirt that she’s in love with—”

  “The peasant blouse?”

  “Yeah, yeah. You saw it, I forgot. Well, it got torn at the arm, which I think is fixable, but she also got blood all over it.”

  “Must have been some fight.”

  He took a breath and let it go. “It was horrible. But I’m worried about the shirt. What can I do to get the blood out before it sets?”

  Everything in her softened, and for a moment she closed her eyes. Thought of his big hands, the delicate blouse. “Put it in a sinkful of cold water right now,” she said. “Then while it’s soaking, mix some dishwashing liquid with a little peroxide and rub it into the blood spots before you wash it.”

  “Will that work?”

  “It should. Don’t put it in a dryer or let it dry until you know you’ve got the blood out. If the blood is on the white part of the shirt, you can bleach it, but that’s pretty delicate fabric and it might not be good for it.”

  “Thanks,” he said. His voice sounded squashed.

  “You all right?” Tessa asked. “You sound kind of strung out.”

  “I don’t know what�
��s going on with her. She—” He stopped. “It’s a long story. She got in trouble today and then this fight, and she just seems so furious all the time. I don’t know how to fix it.”

  She thought of the way the priest had absorbed her long string of words this afternoon at the church, and said only, “That’s hard.”

  “My mother means well, and I’d be up a creek without her help, but she’s making the situation with Natalie worse.”

  “How so?”

  “She doesn’t know how to let Natalie be herself. She’s always nagging her about something or other. She loves her, don’t get me wrong, but it hasn’t been easy for my mom to be this big strong person. She never has a man in her life, and, I don’t know, maybe she doesn’t want one, but she wants Natalie to be thin and pretty, like Jade.” He paused. “I don’t know that pretty is what Nat is supposed to be, though. Does that make any sense?”

  If she’d been holding on to any illusions about how much she liked Vince Grasso—not lusted for him, which she also did, but liked him—that last speech would have clinched it. “It makes perfect sense. She’s beautiful in her own way, but pretty is something … else. And I’ve had friends who were really pretty—it didn’t always help them all that much.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “My wife was pretty, and she was miserable her whole life. I just want my girls to be happy. Be themselves, you know, whatever that is.”

  “That’s terrific.”

  “By the way, I wasn’t saying that you aren’t pretty. Or, I mean—” He halted. “Shit. Sorry.”

  Tessa laughed softly. “‘Pretty’ isn’t a word people use to describe me. Hot, yes. Devastating, perhaps. Alluring, even.” She shook her head. “Not pretty.”

  She had met her goal: It shook loose a chuckle. “Definitely hot,” he agreed. “Devastating? Hmmm. I don’t know.”

  “Oh, come on, give me alluring, at least.”

  “You’re mysterious,” he said. “Mostly mysterious.”

  “No, I’m not! I told you my secrets.”

  “Maybe. You’re still mysterious. Unpredictable. And …”

  “Yes?”

  “Very sexy.”

  She thought of him, over her, kissing her, and a shiver ran down her spine. “Well, so are you.”

  “Yeah? What else am I, Tessa?”

  “Solid,” she said. “And honorable.” Afraid that was too serious, she added, “And very climbable.”

  He laughed.

  Neither of them spoke for a long moment. Tessa didn’t want to let him go, and yet the whole thing could hardly continue this way, could it? “I’m going to be around for a month or so, I think. Do we see each other or not?”

  The raggedness was back in his voice when he said, “If we can work it out, yes.”

  “Fair enough,” she said.

  “Sorry,” he rumbled. “I’m just tired right this minute. I guess I should let you go.”

  “All right. Let me know if the treatment works.”

  “I will.” There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Good night, Tessa.”

  “Good night, Vince. Get a good night’s sleep.”

  “I’ll sure try.”

  Sam woke at dawn and walked out on the beach with Loki and Wolfenstein, leaving old Peaches asleep on a blanket that had been on Tessa’s bed.

  He had left at least six messages for his daughter, and she had not returned any of them. He was afraid she would not ever return them again. In the quiet of the gray morning, he walked along the shore, watching the restless waves, smelling seaweed and brine and fish. A sharp wind whistled in over the water, and for the first time in more than thirty years, he was afraid. Not of the past. He didn’t believe in regrets. Life came at you like a hurricane, and you did what you could with whatever it blew into your hands, good and bad. Given the choice, he’d do it all exactly the same.

  But here life had tossed out this card on the table, a big dark omen when Tessa decided to go back to Los Ladrones. Why had he ignored it? He had just kept telling himself it was all such a long time ago it wouldn’t matter.

  Hands deep in the pockets of his jacket, he paused to look out over the wide black rolling sea, which he loved. As a boy growing up in Alabama, he’d dreamed of the ocean, had made models of big fish and old sailing vessels, read tales of pirates, and imagined a life of adventure and possibility.

  He’d not actually seen an ocean until he was eighteen and headed to Vietnam, drafted into the Army. In his heady foolishness, war seemed to offer as much adventure as a pirate ship. At least he would get the hell out of Nowhere, Alabama, away from the smell of cow shit and the promise of a life like his bitter father’s, who had died mad when Sam was twelve. His mother had followed soon after. Sam lived with relatives, this one and that one.

  Vietnam had twisted him forever. Even now he could suffer nightmares over it. But the sea had lived up to her promise. He loved her, more truly than he had loved any woman, that much was sure.

  He loved only Tessa more. He sat for an hour on the sand, shivering and damp, saying his farewells, soaking the cool sweet brine into his body. Then he went back to his house, called the woman who knitted dog sweaters for Peaches, and asked for her help packing things up. She’d watch over the margarita shack until he came back and found a renter for the house. She tried to coax him into a little farewell spoon, but he gently refused.

  Sam drove an old covered camper truck for this reason—you never knew when you’d need to get on the road, and with dogs, you had to be able to make their lives all right. He packed his sleeping bag, a cooler full of fresh California fruits, a few cans of tuna fish, some bread and peanut M&Ms and plenty of fresh water for himself and the dogs, just in case. The two big dogs rode in the back, on pallets made of old blankets, and each of them had access to a tiny window through which they could stick their noses for fresh air. He’d leave the vents on the roof open, too, and they’d be fine. Addled, ancient Peaches rode in front with Sam, on a bed of Tessa’s clothes and blankets. The only possession he couldn’t travel without was his thick notebook of CDs. Music could get you through anything. He was on the road by ten, in a drizzle that was cooling and hardly dangerous, drinking coffee out of a plastic go-cup he’d had since the early nineties. The Grateful Dead played “Friend of the Devil” on the CD player, and Sam sang along.

  Tessa made a simple breakfast of fruit and bread and tea in her little kitchen. If she was staying for a while, she’d need to get some good English tea bags before much longer; they were easy to order online, but the shipping was horrific. In town, she might get lucky and find a cheaper source.

  It was a relief to be awake after a night tossed with strange fragments of dreams, minglings of Sam and the rivers and Lisa and even Vince mixed in there somewhere.

  She sat at the counter in the kitchen, enjoying the moody, misty light. The house was ancient, with slightly crooked window frames, wide pine boards on the floor, and adobe benches built right into the wall next to the fireplace and beneath the window in the kitchen. Both kitchen and bathroom had been recently outfitted with modern appliances and new tiles. The furniture was battered, but what could you expect from the VFW?

  She braved the mist and clipped some of the cosmos from the garden along with one long red rose and arranged them in a Ball jar she found in the cupboard. The pink and red and white flowers in the simple jar were so beautiful that she took out her camera and shot a series of photos, finding serenity again through the lens. Scatters of yellow pollen littered one ridged pink cosmos petal. The rose was velvety, like chocolate cupcakes. She even enjoyed the clear blues and greens in the stems sticking into the water in the jar. She shot it all on the table, then put it on a windowsill and experimented with the light coming through the jar, through the petals and stems.

  It was startling to realize she’d been at it for more than an hour. Even then, she wasn’t ready to stop. She photographed the open door leading to the courtyard filled with flowers, and the smeary blue of mou
ntains beneath low clouds, and the kitchen window by itself, and the curve of adobe on a bench, and the rumpled bed in the low, clear, pale light.

  Her heart danced.

  She shot Felix gazing up at her in the wary way dogs had with cameras, captured his black ears and his long white muzzle, and she fell so in love with him that she put the camera aside, kissed his forehead and nose, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He made a low, grateful sound in his throat and licked her neck.

  “I guess,” she said to him, “we have to make a trip out to the farm. Let’s get your leash.”

  Loading him into the rental car, she realized that was something she’d need to address, too. She didn’t have a car and couldn’t afford to keep driving this one. It was due back in a couple of days, and she’d have to figure out what to do. A bicycle, maybe. The area was easily navigated with a bike, at least until winter set in.

  By then she’d be gone. On to whatever tour she and Mick decided upon.

  In the gray day, she drove out to Green Gate Farms. Before she spoke to her father—no, not her father; Sam—she wanted a few more answers on her own.

  Rather than parking in the main lot, Tessa drove farther up one of the side roads, looking around for the one that would take her to the hot springs she and Cherry had talked about. From there, she could walk down to the house and see if they’d let her in.

  A green pickup truck stopped, and a man with gray hair in a long braid said, “Can I help you with something?”

  Tessa smiled. “I was just driving around. It’s pretty. Do you mind?”

  “We have specific times for guided tours. I’m sure you can understand why we can’t let the public go traipsing through the fields.”

  “Oh, I’m not going to get out of the car. Promise.”

  He smiled. “I’m sure you wouldn’t, sweetheart, and I know it sounds downright paranoid, but we have to protect the integrity of our products here. Been a lot of food scares in recent years.”