The Secret He Keeps

by Julieann Dove

  “You’re cruel, Rachel. Mean, that’s what you are.”

  She tossed him a pillow from the linen closet. “Enjoy the sofa. I clipped all the stray springs the first six months I slept on it.”

  He caught the pillow and walked back to the living room.

  ***

  The plow truck woke him up. That and Gus licking his face. He reached for his watch on the coffee table. Eight o’clock. He hadn’t slept that late since before he owned his own business. Before that, he was on someone else’s dime.

  He sat up, rubbing his eyes. His shirt laid across the back of the sofa. He only wore his jeans to sleep. The door from Rachel’s bedroom opened. He stood to see her come down the hall. She was wearing a pink fluffy robe. Her freckles were more visible from the lack of makeup, and her hair was bushy. Clearly, she was perfect.

  “Hey, Merry Christmas.”

  The sentiment elicited a huge smile from her. “Thank you. Merry Christmas to you. I heard the snowplow. Do you think the roads are bad?”

  “Are you thinking about going somewhere?”

  She pulled a cup down from the cabinet and poured some juice. “I wanted to take flowers to the cemetery.”

  His eyes fell to the floor. Sadly, the last person on his mind this morning was his friend, Scott. “I’m sure I can get you there. Let me get my clothes on. Would you like to eat first?”

  “Yeah, I’m in no hurry. I’m not even sure if I should go. I bought the flowers yesterday. Of course, I get waves of confidence. Now today, I’m not so sure.”

  “I’ll be there for you, if you need me.” He wished he could take away her pain.

  “I’ll see how I feel. Now let’s see what I have.” She stood, holding the door to the refrigerator open. “I’ve got eggs, shockingly, and some bread. Scrambled eggs and toast?”

  “Sure.”

  ***

  Rachel listened to Dane on the phone, trying to decipher what the other party was saying. He had cleaned up the few dishes from breakfast while she went back to get ready. She was still on the fence about going to see Scott’s gravestone.

  “All right, Mom. Send him to 8213 Hanover. Give us thirty minutes. I have a stop before coming home.” He hung up the phone.

  “What? Who was that?”

  “Mom said Luke ditched his car trying to get to her house. It’s a four-door sedan. I’ve got a two-door sports car. I doubt I’d make it much farther than the stop sign at the end of your street.”

  “What does that mean?” Rachel was taking the roses out of the vase and laying them on a paper towel. She hated thinking they would be frozen by this evening.

  “It means that Uncle Moose is coming to get us. He’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

  Her brow crinkled. “Uncle Moose? Us? Coming to get us?” Emphasis on us.

  “Yes. Rachel, I’m not leaving you alone on Christmas. You’re coming with me to Mom’s house. She makes the best bread pudding and hardly no one else shows up. Oh, and Uncle Moose is going to drop you at the cemetery first.”

  “Dane, I can’t go to the cemetery with a stranger. It’s like peeing in front of someone.”

  He pulled his coat off the peg. “I’m pretty sure you have little experience with knowing what it’s like to pee in front of someone.”

  As if he knew her. How dare he assume she was a prude. She was loosening up these days. “I’ve had my share.”

  He mumbled something.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said get your coat on. He’ll be here any minute.”

  Rachel realized she would earn her medal for both prude and party pooper if she didn’t go with him. The other option was to share a Stouffers turkey and gravy with Gus. She set down the flowers and pulled on her boots.

  “Who is Uncle Moose, anyway?”

  “He’s my dad’s brother. The funny guy of the family. Ironic, though. He drowns himself every morning in anti-depressants just to get through the day. There’s not a thing or favor you could ask of him and he’d turn you down.”

  “Must run in the family.” She smiled at him before they went out in the blustery weather.

  ***

  Dane watched Rachel from the backseat of the Jeep. Uncle Moose had Alan Jackson playing on the radio. It smelled like salami coming out of the heat vents. He loved his uncle; he just wished he’d lay off all the beef jerky and pork rinds. His seat was pushed back as far as it could and his belly still helped steer the vehicle.

  “Do you think you should go out there?” Moose asked Dane.

  It had been ten minutes. Dane was sure she should be freezing by now. No matter how warm those cashmere gloves were. He never took his eyes off her. The grave marker was on the incline of the hill, twelve or so down from the road. Rachel’s footprints were the only ones in the snow.

  “I don’t know.” His breath fogged the window. Moose didn’t keep it too warm in the Jeep. Must have been all of his extra insulation.

  “A woman visiting her husband. She’s gonna need help in ending the conversation. Otherwise, we’re going to be late for lunch.”

  It always came back to his stomach. Not that this poor girl needed help in leaving a man she was probably sure was freezing in the ground. But his belly was hungry. Sure, why not go help her back to the car?

  He pulled his top button closed and approached her cautiously. His hands were freezing, and smoke puffed from his mouth as he began to say something. “Rachel.”

  She turned around. The white stain of a tear ran down her cheek, and her nose was cherry red. He wanted to take away her hurt. Say the right thing.

  “Rach, are you okay?” He put his arm around her shoulder, offering her some of his warmth. Hopefully he didn’t bring the salami odor with him.

  She didn’t break her stare from the tombstone. Scott Harrison Miller. A name he’d never thought he’d see until he was too old to go visit his grave.

  “I told him you stayed over because it snowed last night.” She sniffled.

  “Well, we better get going. You’re shivering.”

  She looked at him. “Don’t you want to say anything?”

  He never did well with on-the-spot. He moved some snow with his boot. “Hey, man. You’d be proud of Rachel. She’s back to work and she’s doing all right. Did you know she drinks from the carton and curses like a sailor now?”

  Rachel elbowed his ribs. “Dane, be serious.”

  “Rachel, I don’t know what to say. I’m not good at this kind of thing.”

  She buried her head in his chest and held his hand tight to her stomach. “No one should be.”

  She turned away and wiped the snow off the top of the tombstone and placed the flowers there. Dane hugged her close with his arm as they walked back to the car.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The Unexpected

  Moose practically slid into the back of the blue Toyota parked out front of Dane’s parents’ home. That wasn’t the first car to almost meet his bumper. Rachel squeezed her hands until she couldn’t feel circulation on the way over there. She promised herself another way home when it was over. And she hoped it would be fast. She wasn’t into going to family reunions, especially if they weren’t her own.

  “Stay close,” she whispered to Dane when they got out of the Jeep.

  They followed the cleared path up to the front steps. The house was enormous. White with black shutters. She imagined roses climbed on the trellis by the front porch in the summertime. In the winter, all the bushes stayed lit. Up through January. His mother liked seeing the lights reflect on snowfall. But the lights on all the windows would come down.

  His dad opened the door, smiling and shaking Rachel’s hand. He sported a wool vest over a button-down shirt. She wasn’t certain, but it looked like a reindeer was on the front of it. His hair was longer on top and split down in the middle, almost feathering on the sides. Thank goodness Dane kept his shorter. Mr. Stone showed them into the front room. It was noisy and smelled like a restaurant. One that
served comfort food.

  Kids were grabbing at gifts underneath the tree and putting them in stacks, threatening the others they better not mess with it. Girls and boys of several different ages. There was even one walking around with a bottle in his mouth. His hair was so curly; the parents were probably on the fence to get it cut. It would have aged him a year older had they decided to do it.

  “Dad, I’m going to take Rachel in the kitchen to see Mom.”

  Dane dropped off Rachel’s coat on the stair banister on the way. Fifteen or so other coats hung across it, too.

  “Hey, brother. I see you made it. I told you to buy a sports utility vehicle. Don’t you think you’re getting too old for that two-seater?” His brother punched him on the shoulder on his way into the front room. He was taller than Dane and fashioned his hair like his father. “Oh, and Mom said for everyone to stay out of the kitchen. We’re starting to get on her nerves.”

  Rachel pulled on Dane’s arm. “Dane, we shouldn’t bother her. Let’s wait.”

  He leaned back and spoke lowly into her neck. The closeness of him made her happy. “She told Brian to stay out. He always tries to sample everything and it drives her crazy.”

  She turned her head as he was finishing; her lips brushed against his temple. It was nice. “Okay.”

  The kitchen was large and white, with a light-gray tiled center island. That’s where most of the food sat on platters. It smelled like a mixture of cinnamon and bread baking, reminding her of home at her mother’s. She wondered whether her mother was standing in her own kitchen, cooking for Aunt Fran, Uncle Dick, and Chris. He always tried to steal food, too. But, her mother liked it. She said he was a growing boy and needed the extra nourishment.

  “Mom, I brought Rachel for lunch.” He held onto Rachel’s arm, waiting for his mother to take her head out of the oven.

  She rose up, holding a spoon that had something dripping off it. She caught it with her hand and rinsed it in the sink. “Of course. It’s so good to see you again, Rachel. We certainly have plenty. Could you give me a hand and start carrying these into the dining room?”

  Dane’s mother had one of those faces that you could sit and talk to forever. A constant smile and engaging eyes. Never preoccupied with anything other than what you were saying to her. Rachel liked her the first time they met years ago. She wasn’t the type who acted her age. She was in her sixties, but still wore the latest fashions and kept her graying hair a secret under a sandy blonde, to match her children’s natural color.

  Rachel and Dane began to tote the platters. Macaroni and cheese, stuffing, green beans, corn, and some odd-looking orange Jell-O mold with things floating in the center. It was a feast for twenty or more people. And that was about how many they had there that day: Dane’s two sisters, their spouses and children, Brian the troublemaker, Moose, the widowed neighbor who lived two houses down, and Dane’s grandmother, Mildred. She wore her hat all through dinner. Rachel couldn’t take her eyes off the crystals shaped into a lizard stitched on it. It was green and blue.

  Everyone treated Rachel as if she belonged there. They didn’t even apologize for the argument that broke out about how the government was trying to take away people’s rights. The spouses started that one. They were the black sheep of the family, ensuing a riot from Moose, if they didn’t conform to being Republican before dessert. For once, Rachel didn’t feel as though she were the center of attention.

  The dirty dishes that came from the feast were equally impressive. Rachel, Dane, and his sister Michelle helped carry most of them to the sink, where Mrs. Stone waited to rinse them off for the dishwasher. A little boy kept tugging on Dane’s leg. His cheeks were red from being too hot under a fuzzy sweater that seemed to be painting hives on his neck.

  “Uncle Dane, we’re out of presents. Can you give us yours?”

  Rachel turned to him. “Dane, go ahead. I can help your mother out here.” She pulled him close to whisper something. “And get him out of that sweater. He’s going to melt in that thing.”

  “You go ahead, too, Michelle,” Dane’s mother told her daughter. “Rachel and I will be in when we get the last few rinsed.”

  Rachel wiped up the melted ice cream from the center island. There were as many desserts to choose from as there were sides. Rachel wouldn’t be hungry until tomorrow, with as much as she shoveled in at their home. Gus would be jealous, having to smell every inch of her clothing when she finally sat down and held him on her lap that night.

  Mrs. Stone pulled the tips of her blue gloves off and shoved them underneath the sink. The dishwasher was humming and the rinsed plates were waiting in line for the next load.

  “Come on over here and sit down, Rachel.”

  She pulled out a chair for her to sit down at the breakfast nook. There was even inside lights on the windows. The kaleidoscope of colors warmed the corner. A Norman Rockwell picture of a Stone Family Christmas. Rachel was tired and fell with ease into the chair. The warm air from the vent underneath her chair could have been the last straw to close her eyes.

  “Dinner was absolutely the best I’ve had.” Rachel wasn’t sure whether she should say dinner or lunch. It was only three o’clock, but the hidden sun made it feel much later.

  “You’re certainly welcome. Come back tomorrow for leftovers if you’d like.” She smiled. Her tired eyes drooped a little. “I noticed your necklace. It’s beautiful.”

  Rachel pulled at it. She forgot she was wearing it. “Thank you. Your son gave it to me.”

  “I know.” She lifted her apron over her head and draped it on the empty chair.

  “Did he ask your help in picking it? I couldn’t believe he got me something in addition to my gloves. It made me feel bad I didn’t get him something else.”

  “No, I had no part in it. Let me see it closer.” She pulled her glasses off her head and rested them on her nose.

  Rachel moved closer for her to touch it herself.

  “The chain is different. It’s better.”

  Rachel crooked her head. “The chain? Was something wrong with it?”

  Mrs. Stone leaned back on her chair and took off her glasses. “That’s Dane’s great-grandmother’s pendant. When I wore it, the chain had turned. I guess it wasn’t real. Looks like Dane’s put a real one on it.”

  “His great-grandmother’s?” Holy crap. She was wearing an heirloom? She wasn’t sure how that made her feel. Uncomfortable, to start with.

  “Yes. He didn’t tell you when he gave it to you?”

  “No. I assumed he purchased it at the mall. Last night, in fact.”

  She rested her worn-out hand on Rachel’s arm. Its wrinkles gave away her age. “Honey, don’t take it lightly. I gave that to Dane seven years ago.”

  Dane interrupted the two women talking in the light from over the stove. The strung Christmas lights made up for the other half of the room’s illumination. Mrs. Stone let out a groan when she stood to leave the room.

  “Did I chase away Mom?”

  He sat down in his mother’s seat.

  “She loved my necklace, Dane.” She watched what his expression would be.

  He didn’t look away.

  He was facing this head on, it seemed.

  “It’s a necklace, Rachel. Don’t get wrapped up in something she told you.”

  His sister, Michelle, popped in the room. “Hey, guys. We’re leaving and we can give you a ride home. Uncle Moose is staying.”

  “All right, we’ll be right there.”

  Rachel wanted more of an explanation. “Dane, she said it was an heirloom.”

  “Mom’s dramatic. It’s a necklace.” He stood and pushed in his chair.

  “Dane, I can’t accept it.”

  He got close enough for her to feel his breath on her face. “Rachel, I gave it to you because I wanted you to have it.”

  Little Jack, Michelle’s five-year-old, came in screaming. “Mommy said let’s go.”

  Rachel moved first. She went out to where the crowd w
as gathering for a last picture to document that year’s Christmas. She kept by the back hall to stay out the way.

  “Rachel, get out here.” Mrs. Stone motioned for her to come forward. “Where is Dane? Dane,” she yelled. “Get out here. We’re taking the family picture.”

  “Mrs. Stone, I shouldn’t be in it.”

  Dane pulled her by the arm on his way to his spot in the picture. Rachel’s face changed to a smile, in time for the click.

  ***

  He knew she wouldn’t let it rest as his sister drove them home. Rachel stared out the window, barely offering any conversation. His car sat in her driveway, still covered in snow.

  “Thanks, Michelle. Moose needs to take lessons from you on how to drive. He scared me to death.” She stooped not to hit her head on the doorframe. “But please don’t tell him. He was a sweetheart to pick us up.”

  He could still hear the kids from her driveway when they pulled off. He had kissed his sister’s cheek, thanked her for the ride, and followed Rachel up to the house. A shower would feel good about now, but he was sure he had to get past the necklace ordeal first.

  So what if he knew four years ago that Rachel was the one he wanted to wear that necklace? It was special and so was she. His mom told him his great-grandfather had saved a year’s wages to buy it for his wife. Two weeks later, she died of pneumonia. Dane wanted Rachel to enjoy it. Someone should be able to.

  She opened the door, went in and hung up her coat. All without saying a word to him. He followed her cautiously. He needed the argument to be over and for her to enjoy what he gave with his heart, without strings.

  She let Gus out the back door and turned finally to look at him. “Do you realize why I can’t keep it?”

  He didn’t take off his coat. He wasn’t sure he was invited to stay. “No, why?”

  She rubbed the back of her neck and sought support from the kitchen counter. “Because you need to keep it and give it to someone special.”

  “I did,” he interjected.

  “Dane, someone really special. Like a wife or a fiancée at the very least. Your mother is probably planning to kill you later for giving it to me.”