Kate Concealed

by Cindy M. Hogan

  “Mom. Dad.”

  They looked at her in question and muted the TV.

  “Is there anything you think I should know? Are you keeping something from me? It feels like you are.” She wanted not to care about her mom’s secret. She’d give her mom one more chance to tell her.

  Her parents looked at each other.

  “Well,” her mom said. “As a matter of fact there are things we keep from you.”

  Kate frowned. “But you said no more secrets.”

  “Yes. I did, but I guess what I meant was no more secrets between us. No more secrets that affected both you and us. We will always have secrets, because we are your father and mother, but we will never keep a secret from you that you should know.”

  “I guess I understand that, but I feel like you’re keeping something big from me and I don’t like that.”

  “We would let you know if we thought it affected you.” Her mom’s smile looked genuine. She really believed it. But her dad did not look so comfortable.

  “So you’ll tell me if I need to know then?” Kate rocked on her feet.

  “Yes.”

  “I hope I can be the person who would be okay with that.” She scrunched up her face.

  “You are that person. We were thinking of going for a picnic at the park tomorrow. Good idea?”

  Kate nodded. “That sounds great, actually.” But, she had to get more answers. “What if I ask you a direct question about something? Will you be honest with me?”

  They nodded, looking a bit nervous.

  “Even if it’s something you don’t think I should know or question?”

  “Of course.”

  Kate wanted to ask about the Italian, but chickened out. They’d made a lot of progress and she didn’t want to send the relationship backwards. And, if she was being honest with herself, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle what they told her.

  “Okay. I’m going up to my room then.”

  “Night. We love you.” They said it in unison and Kate knew they really did.

  She hung back to see if they would say anything more. She couldn’t help herself.

  “I told you she’d sense it,” her dad said.

  “She is very intuitive. I wish we could catch a break with her, though. Why must danger be all around her all the time?”

  “We should tell her. If we continue to hide it, she’s going to start digging and make something out of it that it isn’t.”

  “No. It’s not about Kate directly. There’s no reason for her to find out. I don’t want to open any doors for her. I want to protect her. Let’s let the past stay in the past.”

  “Fine,” he sighed. “But for the record, I think it’s a mistake.”

  “It’ll have to be my mistake.”

  The movie started playing again and Kate made her way to her room, more curious than ever. The secret must be something awful for it to make her so upset. She had started to think that the secret was that her mom was Italian, but that wasn’t awful. Did Kate really want to know the secret? After hearing what she had, she knew she could never ask. Maybe she could find out her mom’s secret without getting it directly from her. She wanted to be able to forget there was something she didn’t know and accept that she didn’t need to know everything, but if her mom was Italian and that was her secret, why was she keeping it from her and why had she left that life?

  As if walking into her room and seeing her bed was the gateway to her memory, Kate realized she hadn’t called Johansen. She looked at her phone. It was ten, which meant it was midnight for Johansen. She’d have to wait until tomorrow to call him. Kate opened her closet door and fished out her two search journals—again. She flipped through the one she’d finished at the beginning of summer, chronicling her search for her birth father, and set it on her desk. She looked at the other one that was to chronicle her journey toward finding her birth mother. She stared at it, all the dead ends crashing into her. She opened to the first page and looked at the picture of Carmela. No, she thought. She was not ready to start up that search again. And even if she was, there was nothing to go off of. She’d explore her Italian heritage instead. And maybe look into her mom’s secret a little. Yes. That was where her efforts would go. She and Ellie would play Italian together and hopefully, it would make her a wiser choice-maker and let her know what she was up against.

  6

  The air was calm and the partly cloudy sky made their time at the park a dream. Not too hot and not too cold. Kate had left a message for Special Agent Johansen early that morning and kept looking at her phone, hoping to see a message or a missed call or something. At noon there was still nothing. As soon as the watermelon, sandwiches and chips were gone, Kate’s siblings ran for the playground, even Jori and Amelia. Her dad followed behind, ready to play. Kate and her mom tidied up, repacking everything into the cooler and the picnic basket. Kate kept glancing up at her mom. People did always comment on how they looked alike, but Kate could only see the blaring differences. Her mom’s milky white skin under her jacket, the light freckles across her nose and her blue eyes. Since she didn’t have any family for them to visit, Kate had never really asked about her mom’s family.

  “Mom,” she asked, taking a seat after closing the cooler. Her mom shut the picnic basket and said, “Yeah?”

  “What were your parents like?”

  Her mom became rigid, her body still bent over the basket. Then she came to herself, although her speech seemed rehearsed and it appeared that she had to really think to remember what to say.

  “I had a beautiful childhood. We lived on a farm, well, more like a ranch. Lots of people were always about, ranch hands and workers ate almost every meal with us. They had their own bunk houses on the property, but most of them were men and didn’t want the responsibility of cooking.”

  She stopped and smiled like she was done. Kate hated to press. Kate knew her grandparents had died when her mom was young and it was sure to bring up bad memories, but something inside Kate wouldn’t let her back down. “I wish I could have seen the ranch and met my grandparents. What were they like? Did your mom look like you?” She wanted her mom to say where the ranch was located. That would answer a lot.

  Her mom turned away and when she turned back, her eyes were filled with moisture. She nodded. Kate felt bad she’d pushed. She slid down the bench to her mom and hugged her. “Mom, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

  Kate’s mom nodded quickly a couple times and hugged her hard. “No matter how much time passes, it’s still painful.”

  It took several moments before her mom released her hold on Kate. Kate figured she wouldn’t get anything else out of her mom and was shocked when she spoke. “My mom was a vivacious woman. Full of life.” Kate held very still listening. “People said we looked alike, yes, but I always thought she was much prettier than I was. She was adventurous and never backed down from a challenge. Your grandfather was much like your grandmother only with a dash of seriousness and firmness. He was a businessman at heart and loved to work just as hard as he liked to play. He sought out challenge. He had a never-die spirit for sure.”

  “They sound wonderful. What were their names?”

  Her mom cleared her throat. Kate leaned forward, excited to learn their names and what that would tell her.

  “Alessa and Piero.”

  Stetson and Jarem, Kate’s seven-year-old twin brothers came barreling over to them. “Hurry up, you two. We’re going to play tag. We need more people.” They had dirty hands and a few bits of wood chips clung to their sneakers already.

  “We’ll be right there,” her mom said, but the boys didn’t leave, they pulled on Kate’s and her mom’s arms until they relented, her mom giving her a wink as they followed.

  ***

  Kate cornered her mom a few times to discuss her past over the next two days, but somehow, her mom always found a way to get out of saying anything important. Kate could remember her mom showing her pictures of Kate’s grandp
arents when she was younger, but couldn’t remember what they looked like. Maybe if she could find the pictures, she would get some answers. She’d searched everywhere she could think of, even going through the boxes in the attic and looking behind all the panels. The only place left was her mom and dad’s room, but she hadn’t found a good time to search in there. Someone was always around. At lunch on Wednesday, she discovered an opportunity.

  “Why do we have to go, Mom?” Jori asked.

  “It won’t hurt you to spend a few hours helping others, will it?” The church sponsored a big silent auction every year that earned a ton of money to help the homeless.

  “But, it’s going to be boring,” she whined.

  “Everything can’t be fun,” her dad said. “But, don’t you remember last year? You two had a great time.” He indicated Amelia and Jori. “You had a great time because it feels great to help others.”

  “It was fun last year,” Amelia said. “Remember, Jonathan was there and you two got to work together. I was with Sam. We packaged and labeled everything for the people who won them.”

  “That’s right. You think Jonathan will be there again this year?”

  “Probably.”

  “I’m in then.”

  “Good,” her dad said, “but try to do it with a thankful heart and not one that is chasing a boy.”

  The girls giggled.

  It was Kate’s chance. “Do you think it would be okay if I stayed behind to do some last minute research? I’m feeling a little stressed about leaving tonight.”

  Her mom sighed. “I think you should have used your time more wisely the past few days.”

  “Please.”

  “You’ll be here all alone.”

  “I’m here alone a lot.”

  “Not all the time.”

  “Nothing will happen. Please.”

  Her mom shared a look with her dad and she said, “Fine, but next time do you think you could not wait until the last minute?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please have everything down by the front door. We’ll get back at three and will need to leave directly.”

  “Sure.”

  Kate helped with the dishes and her brothers and sisters hugged her goodbye. They would be going to an aunt’s house on her dad’s side after the auction so they wouldn’t have to endure the long trip to and from the airport. After her family left, Kate went up to her room and pretended to research, just in case her parents came back for whatever reason. She decided she better text Johansen. If she couldn’t reach him to talk to him, she would leave him a text message.

  Kate: Just thought you should know I’m heading to Italy for the rest of the week. Colby is doing a study abroad at Bologna University and Ellie and I are visiting him. I’m kinda worried about you. Are you okay? It’s never taken you longer than twenty-four hours to call me back. I hope everything is okay.

  Kate sent the text and waited. When no response came after about five minutes, she stalked her way to her parents’ room like a cat burglar, startling at every sound. Her heart thumped hard in her chest and she felt cold as she entered the room. She stood there frozen for some time, fear of not only violating her parents’ privacy, but also of what she might find, rooting her to the spot.

  She reminded herself that all she wanted to do was find some pictures of her grandparents and mom when she was a child. There was nothing bad about that. She forced her body to cooperate and started a methodical search, starting in one corner of the room. She worked fast, moving furniture and shuffling through the contents of everything that held anything. She even climbed under the bed with a flashlight. No pictures. No documents. As she scooted back out, she noticed a bump under the rug. The bed was solid wood and without moving it, she couldn’t get under the rug. It was securely pinned to the floor by the legs of the bed.

  She rushed down to her dad’s workshop and brought back a yard stick which she shoved under the rug and used it to nudge the bulge out from under the rug. It was hard work, especially since she had to hurry. Her parents would be back in ten minutes and she hadn’t brought her things down yet. What if the auction took less time than usual? They could come home early. She set her alarm for eight minutes, and jabbed, poked, and dragged the stick until finally, the items came free from their tomb.

  Pictures. Black and white pictures. Kate’s hands trembled as she picked up the first one. A man and a woman in their late twenties sat on a horse in a beautiful green field. The names Piero and Alessa were scrawled on the back of the picture in swirly script along with “Italy” and a date. Jackpot. She’d found pictures of her adoptive mom’s mom and dad. Why they were hidden under the bed, she’d never understand. Piero and Alessa looked happy, peaceful. Kate took a picture of it with her phone, excited to see more. She set the first picture to the side and then picked up the next. Her hand flew to her mouth.

  The people in the picture looked dead, their bodies splayed in odd positions with blood or bullet wounds visible. Horrified, she shuffled through the rest. All were similar. All with obviously dead people in them. Kate dropped the pictures and stifled a cry. Then for some reason she’d never be able to explain, she looked through the pictures again, flipping them over and reading the names and dates on the back and spreading them out in front of her. Only one picture had living people in it and it was the one with her grandparents in it. Why was her grandparents’ picture mixed in with the ones of dead people? She leaned back against the footboard, looking at the pictures, but not focusing on them. The words she’d overheard her mom say played through her mind. Why can’t my past stay dead and buried? It’s my past and I want to keep her as far away from it as possible. Kate’s eyes focused on the pictures again. Was that the past she was referring to? Were her grandparents murderers?

  She heard the front door open downstairs. “Kate?”

  Kate whipped around, scooping up all the pictures and then shoving them back under the bed, using the yardstick to push them deep under the rug. She heard the footsteps in the hall getting closer. She stood up in a flurry and moved toward a large dresser, not sure what to do next.

  “Kate,” her dad said. “What are you doing?”

  She stared at a picture of her adoptive parents that sat on the dresser and reached out to pick it up. Hot fire licked her insides. Who were these people she lived with? If they didn’t have anything to do with what happened in those pictures, why did they have them? “Don’t worry, I’m ready.” Her dry mouth couldn’t get her tongue to work properly, and her words came out slow, even. “I just realized I didn’t have a picture of you guys and thought I’d grab one to take with me.”

  “Oh, I don’t think we have any current ones printed.” Her dad walked toward their nightstand. “Let me see.”

  “It’s okay.” Her eyes darted toward the end of the bed where the yardstick stuck out a few inches. She stepped quickly toward it and tapped it with her foot until it disappeared under the bed. “I’ll just take a picture of this one with my phone, and maybe get a candid at the airport.”

  “Good idea. Your stuff in your room still?”

  “Uh-huh.” Her dad left the room. A fog of confusion settled over her as she snapped a picture of her mom and dad from last year’s family pictures.

  “Let’s go,” her dad said from outside their bedroom door, clutching her large and small suitcases, her bag slung over his shoulder.

  It was like she couldn’t feel herself, like she wasn’t real, like everything was happening in slow motion. She walked toward the door, her feet heavy like sledgehammers. Her dad was already halfway down the steps when she reached them. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to walk down them. Maybe she shouldn’t go to Italy. She needed to find out what those pictures were about. Her dad looked up at her from the bottom of the steps.

  “Step on it, Kate. We need to go if you are going to make your flight.”

  Somehow, she got her feet to move down the stairs. Her dad didn’t wait on her, but left out the front door. Sh
e walked out into the bright, hot sun, but couldn’t stop the shiver that rushed through her as she spied her mom, sitting in the front seat smiling out at her. Maybe the pictures had nothing to do with her mom’s parents. Maybe she was overreacting. Her mom could not have come from parents who would murder people in cold blood. Kate needed to tell Ellie about it. She needed to have time to think. Italy could give that to her. Italy could give her the processing time she needed before confronting her mom about the pictures. About her past.

  She willed her feet to move to the car and she slid into the back seat. She closed her eyes and tried to block everything out, including the images she’d just seen. No wonder her mom didn’t want her to know her secrets if they included the fact that her parents were murderers. And why did her dad think it would have been better for her to know? She wished she had never seen those pictures and never wondered if her grandparents were responsible for them.

  7

  Kate woke in the backseat of the car, new nightmares of her adoptive mom shooting people, Kate’s grandparents laughing as she did.

  “Are you okay, Sweetie?” her mom asked.

  Kate brushed her hands over her face, the dream dissipating, but the adrenaline continuing to make her heart pump like a steam engine. “Just a nightmare.”

  “I thought those had stopped,” her dad said, looking at her through the rearview mirror.

  “They had, but I guess they’re back,” her voice was sour, resentful.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” her dad asked.

  “I’m fine,” she huffed, squirming in her seat as she tried to find a more comfortable spot. “You know I’m Italian. Well, hopefully I’m going to discover what that means while I’m in Italy.”

  Her parents had shared a quick glance and then her dad, who was driving had said, “What exactly does that mean?”

  “Well, Colby seems to think that our genes have a lot to do with our choices, and I want to see if my choices have been markedly Italian or not. I want to see if I do stuff simply because my birth parents were Italian or if I’ve been choosing of my own free will. Or if you two have had any effect on my behavior.”