House Of Secrets

by Tracie Peterson

  “I wish he would have talked to us. I wish he would have been there for us. It might have made life a whole lot easier.”

  Nodding, Judith agreed. “That’s what I kept telling him. I told him that you girls needed to know about your mother. You needed to remember the good things about her and understand the bad, and why she did the things she did.”

  “There’s so much I wish I understood.” I shook my head and chewed on my lower lip. How was it that I felt so comfortable talking to this stranger?

  Judith tucked her hair behind her ears. “I know how you feel. At least I know how it feels to want to understand the mental illness of a loved one. I also know how having a loved one with schizophrenia alienates you from the rest of the world. Even in places where it shouldn’t—like church.”

  “That’s for sure. My mother had a tendency to make a scene, and people were . . . well, I think they were afraid of her.”

  Judith smiled. “Maybe not so much of her, but of her sickness. I found that folks were often afraid they would catch Kevin’s illness or that he was possessed. Others were just uncomfortable in dealing with his strange comments, his turning to speak to someone who wasn’t there, or his paranoia.”

  This was something I connected with. “Our mother was delusional. She created ugly situations at church with accusations, and the next thing I knew we were leaving to attend elsewhere. The same thing happened with school and teachers or the principal.” The memories rushed back as if it had been only yesterday. “I was glad Dad moved us so often. I didn’t want anyone to see her or know her. I went out of my way to try and hide her.” I let out a big breath. “I’m so ashamed to admit that.”

  A look of compassion and comprehension passed over Judith’s expression. She closed her eyes for a moment. “I loved my husband dearly, but there came a time when I just wanted to put him away.” She opened her eyes. “Of course, I couldn’t really do that. He was hospitalized briefly at a very good private institution. I thought he made fantastic progress there as well. He seemed happy to have adjusted to a new medication and was well on the way to getting back on track with his life.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Budget cuts and downsizing. When Kevin’s favorite doctor left to relocate to the West Coast, my husband no longer had any interest in continuing the therapy or medication. He walked away, and though I tried to convince him otherwise, that was the end of it. It was all downhill after that. When we learned that Kevin had cancer, it was even worse. He refused all treatments, convinced that we were trying to kill him. Of course, with the cancer left unchecked, it did exactly that.”

  “I’m sorry.” And I truly was. It was impossible to listen to this woman’s story without feeling a tremendous amount of sympathy for her. I had spent a lifetime putting people at arm’s length, but Judith waltzed into my life and disarmed all of my natural defenses.

  “So are you active in church now?” Judith asked, surprising me with the topic.

  “No. I have no use for church.” It wasn’t hard to admit the truth, but there was a niggling suspicion in the back of my mind that this wouldn’t be the end of the matter.

  “Why is that?”

  I drew in a deep breath. I’d been right. This conversation was taking a most uncomfortable turn. I got up and walked over to the window, hoping I might spy Dad somewhere on the property. I tried to focus on something other than the question. The skies looked to be clearing. Maybe the day would turn out nice after all.

  “I’m sorry. That was a very personal thing to ask.”

  I turned and leaned against the windowsill. “It is. It’s also a little difficult right now.”

  “Because of your dad?”

  I laughed, surprising us both. “Hardly. No, I’m glad Dad has found comfort in God—he certainly never found it in his children. If God can help him, more power to him. My problem is that I can’t find comfort in God. In fact, I don’t even know where to look.” Judith started to speak, but I held up my hand. “Please let it drop. I need to check on my sisters. If Dad comes back, I’d appreciate it if you’d let us know.”

  She simply nodded. I was relieved to reach the stairs and not hear her explain how wonderful God was. I thought again about the question I’d heard in the quiet of the night. What would I do with God? Where did He fit into the picture?

  Making my way upstairs, I wasn’t at all sure I could come up with an answer. God had seemed so distant for so many years that I felt awkward even contemplating what to do with Him now. What if it was simply too late to do anything with God? Did that happen? Did people just miss their opportunities to figure out who God was and how He figured into their life?

  I stood outside of Piper’s room for a moment. I could hear Geena’s voice, but I couldn’t really make out what she was saying. The closed door between us felt like a tangible barrier—my sisters together on one side, me alone on the other.

  I raised my hand to knock, then thought better of it. I couldn’t deal with rejection at the moment. So instead of interrupting them, I went to my room.

  For all the time we’d had this summer house, I had never really felt at home. I glanced around my bedroom. I wanted to feel a sense of belonging, but this house didn’t offer that. No place really did. Not my condo in Boston. Not the Cooper home in Newton. Where did I belong? Where did I matter? What was my purpose?

  Stretching out on the bed, I stared up at the ceiling. I thought of my work and of Mark. I took great pride in what I did. I loved words and stories about people. I was fascinated by the turn of a phrase. To me, words were just as much an expression of art as any painting or sculpture. Maybe it was time to think about moving away from my family. Maybe New York City held the key to my future.

  “I’m only twenty-seven. It’s not like I don’t have options.”

  I thought of my sisters and how hard I’d tried to be mother and father to them. “As a big sister,” my mother had told me, “you are responsible to keep them safe.”

  I’d mentioned this to my therapist. She had asked me the expected question. “How did that make you feel? How do you feel about it now?”

  It made me feel neurotic, I’d told her. I couldn’t sleep well at night. I couldn’t let go of the idea that something might happen to one of my sisters and that it would be my fault. I closed my eyes and tried to remember that moment so long ago when my mother had given me charge of my siblings.

  “Bailee, you are older and you have to help me keep the little ones from harm. That killer wants to find them—find you too. You have to do exactly what I tell you, and you have to watch over them at all times.”

  I felt myself drifting as a drowsy wave washed over me. For some reason I saw myself alone in a room where light barely filtered in from a half-covered window. It was a garage or shed of some type.

  It seemed I was crawling out of a hiding place. A box. Yes, I could see that it was a small room where someone had stored gardening equipment and tools. I was very young and cold. My feet were bare, and in the back of my mind I knew this was going to get me into trouble.

  “Bailee, it’s safe to come out now.”

  It was my mother. She was standing at the door peering out. She’d only opened it enough to see at an angle toward the house.

  “Are the bad men gone?”

  She turned and smiled at me. “Yes. Go get the baby.”

  I frowned. “Where? Where’s the baby?”

  She pointed to a pile of dark blankets. “I hid the baby over there.”

  I looked again but could see nothing of an infant. I hurried over, my bare feet nearly frozen. The ground was earth-packed and cold. I pulled away the blankets but still didn’t see the baby. I moved quicker, straining my tiny arm muscles with burdens never intended for a child. The blankets barely budged.

  “I can’t get the baby, Momma.”

  The sense of panic that gripped me was like nothing I’d ever known.

  Chapter 12

  It was nearly an hour lat
er when Judith came to get us. Dad had returned and wanted to talk. He asked that we join them downstairs. I felt anxious as I entered the living room. I could see Dad sitting alone by the fireplace. He looked so much older than his forty-nine years. Had we done that to him? I wanted to go to him and comfort him, but something in his body language told me my touch would not be welcomed.

  I retook the seat I’d had earlier and waited. My sisters soon came down and sat on the sofa, and Judith took the oversized chair. For several minutes we sat in an uncomfortable silence, as if we were all awaiting yet another guest. Finally Dad cleared his throat.

  “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you,” he began. “I can’t believe for the last fifteen years you’ve believed me to be a murderer and said nothing.”

  “But, Dad,” I interrupted, “we . . . love you.” The words came hard. “We knew you were only concerned about us. Mom was crazy and dangerous. We heard you say you were doing it for us, and we felt obligated in return to do this for you.”

  His face was incredulous. “Do what?” he asked. He looked to Geena and Piper. “What was it you felt you had to do?”

  “Keep quiet,” Geena replied.

  “Keep the family secret,” Piper added, twisting the edge of her shirt like a nervous child.

  He looked back to me and shook his head. “You believed a lie.”

  I wasn’t at all sure what he was getting at. I leaned forward. “Dad, we saw it. We saw you mix the pills into Mom’s drink. We heard what you said—we saw you crying. We know you did it for us.”

  “No! I didn’t do . . . it . . . for you. I didn’t do it for anyone because I didn’t do it. At least I didn’t do what you think I did.” He was carefully holding his temper in check.

  “Don’t lie to us,” Piper said, her face contorting. “I don’t want to be lied to.”

  Dad got to his feet. “I’m not lying. What you saw wasn’t what you believed it to be. What you saw was my poor attempt to keep your mother on the medication the doctor gave her before we left on our trip.”

  I shook my head. “Why would you have been upset then? Why were you crying? If you were simply doing a task that you knew would be helpful to Mom, why be upset about it?”

  He looked to Judith and she nodded. Drawing a deep breath, Dad continued. “I was emotional because I felt so helpless. I had argued with her about taking the medicine and she told me she didn’t need it—that it wasn’t really helping. She was convinced that it was a poison the FBI was using to end her life because she wasn’t cooperating with them.”

  Walking to the fireplace, he turned away from us and gripped the mantel with both hands. “I told her the medicine would help her to think clearer—to be calmer. She said that was just what they wanted us to believe, but she knew better. I was beside myself. I knew that without the medicine she was going to get worse. Probably even with the medicine.

  “Your mother was determined to have it her way. I was in tears because I’d reached the end of my rope. I wanted to walk away from the entire situation, but I loved her so much.” Dad straightened and turned back to face us. “How could you possibly believe me capable of killing her?”

  Piper began to cry again. Geena reached over and pulled her against her shoulder.

  “Then what happened to her?” Geena asked the question that was on my mind. “If your medication that night didn’t kill her, why did the paramedics come and take her to the hospital?”

  “Because she’d taken other pills. A prescription I hadn’t known about. She had what she thought was a medication that would keep the authorities from finding her. She just couldn’t shake the idea that there were people pursuing her. She thought if she could muffle the voices in her head, her thoughts would be clouded to them. The only problem was that the pills very nearly stopped her heart. She was unresponsive when I found her the next morning. I called an ambulance, and they barely got her to the hospital in time.”

  I was confused now. If she’d killed herself with an overdose of medication, what did he mean she barely got there in time? I opened my mouth to ask, but Dad continued.

  “They pumped her stomach in the emergency room and countered the overdose with their own medications. She regained consciousness and the doctor figured it was a close call. He took me out to the nurses’ station, and we discussed what had happened. He wanted to know if I thought it was a suicide attempt, because if so, he could send her to the psych ward for observation.”

  “Stop it!” Geena demanded. “Stop lying to us. We know what happened. We saw it.”

  I was stunned by her venomous reaction.

  “I’m so tired of the lies and secrets this family has perpetuated,” she continued. “We’ve lived through fifteen years of it and I’m done. If you can’t be honest with us, then I’m leaving.”

  “I am being honest with you,” Dad replied. “I’m telling you exactly what happened.”

  “If she didn’t overdose, then how did Mom die?” Geena threw back.

  Dad looked at Judith. For several moments their gazes locked us out. It was as if everything had ceased for Dad . . . except for Judith. When he looked back at us there were tears in his eyes.

  “I was talking to the doctor about what to do when the nurse went to change your mother’s IV bag. She came back a moment later, declaring that the patient was missing. We began to search for your mother, but she seemed to have just up and disappeared. The police were summoned and the hospital went on full alert. The exits were sealed, but I figured it was too late, she’d already fled. Then we got a call that a patient was up on the roof. I knew it was your mother.”

  “The roof?” I questioned. “The roof of the hospital?”

  He nodded. “We never were exactly sure how she got there. It wasn’t like there weren’t precautions in place to keep people from going there, but your mother always had a way of slipping into places unnoticed. They called me to talk to her because she was clearly distraught. I was taken to the roof and I started across the expanse to where she was standing near the edge.”

  My stomach churned madly. I felt sick, both fearing and knowing the outcome.

  Dad’s voice cracked. “I . . . I tried to . . . to talk to her. I remember saying, ‘Natalie, I need you—your children need you. Come back and let the doctors help you to feel better.’ ” He shook his head. “She said I was . . . was . . . with them. That I wanted to hurt her. She said she’d found the medicine residue in the cup of cocoa when she poured it in the sink and knew I was working with the government to shut her up.”

  Tears poured down his face. “She thought I wanted her dead. You thought it too.”

  I bit my lip to keep from crying myself. I saw that Geena and Piper were already in tears, but I desperately wanted to keep the wall of emotions that was pounding at my defenses from crashing over me.

  Dad gave a shudder. “I tried to creep close enough . . . to . . . to take hold of her. She could see what I was doing and warned me to stay back all while backing closer to the edge. She said she had to find you girls because men were coming to take you away. I promised her that wasn’t true, but she wouldn’t believe me. Before I could . . . before I could. . . .” He dissolved in tears and Judith came to him immediately.

  “Before he could reach her, your mother jumped to her death,” Judith announced. She wrapped her arms around Dad’s shoulders and led him to the chair she’d just abandoned. Dad did nothing to fight her. He went willingly and collapsed. Sobbing like a small child, my father’s pent up emotions spilled out for all to witness.

  “I tried,” I heard him say from the muffling of his hands. “I tried.”

  With trembling hands he pulled a yellowed piece of newspaper from his shirt pocket. He handed it to Judith, who in turn brought it to me. The headline read, Woman Jumps to Her Death From Local Hospital Roof.

  I scanned the newspaper article, then handed it back to Judith, who then took it to my sisters. I couldn’t think clearly. I fell back against the chai
r and tried to process the information. I could still see the words.

  Thirty-two year old Natalie Cooper jumped to her death. . . .

  The words warred against all that I had believed to be true. Why had Dad lied to us? He’d told us she died from the overdose. Or did he? I strained to remember, but my thoughts were overrun with accusations and rebukes. How could you believe your father to be capable of murder? How could you love someone and think something so horrible of him?

  “I thought I was right to keep the ugliness of her death from you. We weren’t even able to let you say good-bye to her,” Dad said, fighting for control of his emotions. “She was too . . . too . . . disfigured.”

  Piper buried her face against Geena while I swallowed back bile. Maybe Dad was right. Maybe the ugly truth was too much. Would it have been easier to go on believing Mom died from an overdose? But how could it be—especially when we believed that overdose came from our father’s hand?

  Judith refolded the article and returned it to Dad. He held it for several moments and then stuffed it back into his pocket. “I should have told you the truth a long time ago.”

  “Yes, you should have,” I muttered. “You should have told us the truth. You deceived us.”

  “How was that deceit? I didn’t know what you believed. I didn’t know you girls were watching that night—that you thought I was staging a murder. I can’t believe you thought I would do such a thing. Despite her problems, I loved your mother. I only wanted her to get well.” He got up and looked at Judith. “I’m going back to the cottage.”

  She nodded and Dad slowly walked from the room. Judith waited until he was gone to address us. “You have no idea how this has tormented him all these years.”

  “He has no idea how it tormented us,” Piper countered, looking up. She pushed away from Geena and got to her feet. “We thought he killed her. We saw him and heard him, and it’s never been more than a thought away.” Then singling me out, Piper added, “This is all your fault. You made us swear to keep the secret. You told us that we’d lose Dad if we said anything, and now we’ve probably lost him because we didn’t say something.”