“I used to pray that he’d get better,” Judith continued. “One day he just stopped painting. I asked him why, and he said it was no longer a joy to him. He encouraged me to paint for him. I promised him I would.”
Judith grew thoughtful and gazed off toward the water and trees. “He got worse and in time was pretty much bedfast. I used to take my work to him and he would give me advice on what I could do to make it better.”
“Did the MS kill him?”
“In a sense. He couldn’t deal with the effects on his life. He couldn’t handle the pain, and so he ended his life.”
I gasped. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
She shifted in her seat and leaned against the table. “It was devastating, but I always understood why he did it. After he died I went in search of a father figure, and I found it in Kevin. We married after just a few weeks of knowing each other. It was a big mistake, although I did love him. If love could have made a man healthy, then my love would have knit Kevin’s mind back together.”
“But love can’t do that,” I said sadly.
“No.”
I nodded. “I always thought that my love could help my mother. I felt responsible for my mother’s condition, as well as my sisters’ safety. I lost my childhood somewhere in between.”
Judith looked at me sadly. “I know. Your father often spoke of it and his deep regret. Your mother was wrong to put so much on your shoulders—your father too. Just because I love him doesn’t mean that I can’t see his mistakes. I think that’s the good thing about love, however. We look beyond.”
“My father knew?” I said in disbelief. “If he knew, why didn’t he help us—me?”
She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He knew to some degree. At least he suspected. He knew your mother could be very hard on you regarding your responsibilities. Especially after—”
“Good morning,” Geena called and waved from the stone steps below.
She had apparently been out for a run on the beach. She jogged across the yard and climbed the deck stairs to join us. “I hope I haven’t interrupted.”
I couldn’t help but wonder what Judith was going to say. I turned to her. “Judith was just telling me something.”
Geena took a seat. “About our father?”
I looked to Judith. “Was it about him?”
She shook her head. “Not entirely. I was just going to say that he was aware of your mother putting pressure on you to be responsible for your siblings. Especially after the death of your brother.”
Geena responded before I could. “Brother? We didn’t have a brother.”
I didn’t have a chance to agree before Judith continued. “Oh, that’s right. You weren’t born yet—just Bailee.”
I felt as if she’d slapped me. There was something of truth in what she said, but I couldn’t put the pieces together. A brother?
“What are you talking about?” Geena looked at me. “Do you know what she’s saying? Or is this something else you’ve kept from us?”
A growing dread settled over me. I looked at Judith in confusion. “A brother?”
Her face took on an expression of alarm. “You didn’t know? How could you not?”
I shook my head. There was the slightest glimmer of a memory and then it was gone. A baby—the baby I couldn’t find—the baby that one day just went away. I felt my chest tighten. What in the world was going on? I felt so helpless.
Geena put her hand on my arm as if to offer comfort, but there was no comfort for this.
“I feel terrible,” Judith said, shaking her head. “I thought you knew. I presumed it was something that all of you knew.” She put her hand to her mouth and issued a muffled apology.
“I’m just so sorry.”
Chapter 17
Judith and I were standing in the dining room when Dad and Mark returned. They were laughing about something and acting as if they were lifelong friends. I sprang on them like a cheetah on prey.
“We’ve got problems, and I need answers.”
Dad’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong? Answers about what?”
“It’s my fault, Tony,” my stepmother announced from behind me. “I’m sorry, but I said something about your son and didn’t realize Bailee and Geena were unaware.”
My father shook his head. “Bailee, you knew about the baby who died.”
His tone sounded almost accusing and took me by surprise. “No. I don’t know about a baby who died,” I said, looking from him to Mark and back again. “What are you talking about?”
Geena and Piper had joined us by now. I went to them. “I don’t know what he’s talking about. I swear. I would have told you if I did.” They didn’t look as though they believed me, but said nothing.
“Why don’t we sit down and I’ll tell you what I can,” Dad said, pulling a chair out for Judith.
I wasted no time. I took a seat at the table before Judith could even respond to my Dad. I looked at Geena and Piper and motioned them to join us. They seemed reluctant to sit, but did so. Mark looked rather out of place, but I couldn’t see kicking him out.
“You might as well stay, Mark.”
He looked at Dad. “Would that make you uncomfortable?”
“Not at all. Please stay.” Dad looked at the three of us girls. We were all lined up on the opposite side of the table, as if about to conduct some sort of post-war interrogation.
Mark sat at the end of the table between the five of us. I thought again of his psychology background. He could definitely use this family as a case study if he wanted to further his education in psychology.
“Bailee, you were very young. Only three, I think.” Dad rubbed his chin. “Noah was less than a month old—just twenty days. He died from SIDS—Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. It was very hard on your mother. She stayed in bed for weeks after that. I think it only served to promote the schizophrenia, if that’s possible. It definitely caused her to have a breakdown of sorts.”
I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temples. Why couldn’t I remember my baby brother? Or maybe I did. The baby who was missing. The baby I couldn’t find. It would make sense that he had been there one day and then gone. Perhaps in my child’s mind I thought he was just misplaced. Maybe I blended his existence with events that happened years later with my sisters.
“But we’ve never talked about him? A baby brother named Noah and in all these years no one even spoke his name?” Geena said in a questioning tone. “Why did you never mention him? Why didn’t Mom say anything about it?”
“As I said, your mother had a breakdown when he died. The doctor who saw her said it was typical of women who lost infants. She was depressed and despondent. They gave her Valium and something else I don’t remember. She slept a lot and I hired someone to come in and take care of you, Bailee. Do you remember that?”
I shook my head. It was like a big chunk of time was missing.
“Well, like I said, you were only three.” He gave me a sympathetic smile. “And perhaps that’s all the better. It was such a sad time. I was as heartbroken as your mother. I buried myself in work. I had wanted a son very much. And I don’t think I figured we’d have any more children after him. Your mother seemed to have her hands full, and though I didn’t know it at the time, the schizophrenia was already starting to control her life.”
“But there are no pictures of him,” Piper said, finally joining in. “It’s like he never existed.”
“I know,” Dad replied. “That was how your mother wanted it. I remember saying something about Noah when Geena was born. I asked the doctor if it was likely that she might also die from SIDS, and your mother went ballistic. She ranted and threw things at me. She said I was never again to mention Noah’s name. That we weren’t ever going to speak about him again. I decided that if this was the only way to help her recover, then that’s how we’d handle it.”
“But you never said anything about him even after she was gone,” Piper said, shaking her
head. “Why didn’t you tell us about him then?”
Dad’s brows rose as he drew in a deep breath. “The details of your mother’s death were just too much. I felt I needed to keep things from you girls in order to protect you. Noah’s birth and death seemed too much for young girls who had lost their mother. So I kept it as my own private sorrow. As time passed, I suppose it just seemed natural to say nothing.”
“Did she get any kind of help for dealing with Noah’s death?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Your mother never wanted it. Said it wouldn’t do any good. She promised me she’d talk to the pastor at the church where she was attending. I don’t know if she ever did that or not. After Geena came along, she settled down and seemed to heal from the loss. Geena was her consolation and she genuinely seemed happy to have another child. We decided to try again for a boy and Piper was born.” He smiled. “I wasn’t disappointed, though. Piper was a delight and I came to realize I was quite happy with my little girls.”
“Where is he buried?” Piper asked.
Dad looked to the ground. “I had him cremated and his ashes sprinkled. Your mother didn’t even want a plaque put up as a memorial. He was here for just twenty short days and then he was gone.”
“This is your fault,” I heard my mother’s voice say as clearly as if she were standing beside me. I startled and looked for her, but of course she wasn’t there. I felt my chest tighten and the air go out of me. For a moment I was dizzy and thought I might faint.
“Are you all right?” Mark asked, coming to my side.
I looked at him, then closed my eyes to stop the world from spinning. “I need some air.”
He put his arm around me. “I’ll take her out on the deck,” I heard him tell the others. He walked me to the door and all the while I kept my eyes closed, his voice my entire focus.
“We’re almost there.” I heard the glass deck door slide open and felt the breeze hit my face. “Just a few more steps. Here,” Mark instructed. “Sit here.”
I opened my eyes and the brightness of the day hit me. How dare it be sunny when the problems of my life had left everything so dark?
“Is that better?” Mark squatted down beside me. “That had to be quite a shock. Rest for a little bit. I’ll get you some water.”
The moment he stepped away I was wishing for his return. I looked up to find Geena and Piper watching me from the doorway. I shook my head and whispered. “I didn’t know. I swear, I didn’t know.”
Mark returned with the water and Dad followed him out onto the deck. “Bailee,” he said softly, “I’m so sorry for this. Judith feels terrible and so do I. I never meant for it to come out like this.”
I felt weary and spent. How could I ever hope to know a sense of recovery if the lies never ended? “I just don’t understand how you could keep it from us. He was our brother. How . . . how could you never say anything?” The very idea of just omitting a child in the family was beyond me.
Dad took the seat beside me. “He wasn’t with us long. I guess I allowed myself to pretend he’d never been with us. It hurt less, but to be honest, it still hurts. I should have gotten help with my grieving. I can see that now, but back then I was convinced that my work was the best therapy possible. In fact, the doctor himself told me it was the best possible thing for a man to do.”
“This is hopeless.” I shook my head. “I knew I should never have come here.”
“What is hopeless?” Dad asked.
“This.” I waved my hands to the people gathered beside me. “Our family. We’ve been doomed since the start.”
“How can you say that?” he asked, looking confused.
“I say it because it’s true. Our family has been built upon lie after lie.” I looked at him and saw a stranger. “I don’t think I even know you.”
“Are there other secrets?” Geena asked from the door.
I was grateful to have the focus taken off of me. I drew a deep breath and tried to settle my racing heart.
Dad shrugged. “I suppose there are other details that were hidden. Your mother’s father had a mental illness. I never knew much about him. Your mother was in foster care when we met. We went to college together and fell in love. Everything happened so quickly, and before we knew it Bailee was on the way.”
He reached out to touch my shoulder. “Look, it’s clear I made mistakes. We all have. I’m sorry about hiding the truth from you girls. I’m sorry that it led to you thinking the worst of me. But I want us to make a new start. I want you all to feel that you can ask anything. If you have questions—if anything comes to mind—let’s make a promise that we’ll talk about it. All right?”
I wanted to agree but felt too overwhelmed at the moment. I got to my feet. “I need some time to think.” I pushed past Dad and the others and went into the house to retrieve my purse. A drive seemed like the logical choice of escape. I was nearly to the car when Mark appeared.
“Would you like a friend?”
I shook my head. I’d been stupid to pretend a relationship with him might work out. “No. I don’t think that’s wise. In fact, I think you should probably just go home.”
He frowned. “Just like that?”
What did he want from me? How could I help him understand the raging doubt that warred inside me when I couldn’t comprehend it myself?
“I told you a long time ago that I had a lot of baggage.” I gave a harsh laugh. “Only I didn’t realize just how much there truly was.”
“And you think that’s a reason to stop trying—to send me away? Bailee, I can’t imagine what you must be feeling, but I care about you.”
“Well, don’t,” I said, shaking my head. “Please just don’t.”
I drove for a long time, not even thinking of where my journey might take me. From time to time tears blinded my vision and forced me to pull over. My life was unraveling. Dinah, my therapist, had said that coming here might prove helpful. Instead, all I was finding was more damage.
I tried to forget the uneasy feeling of my mother’s accusation, but it was like wearing silk on a hot humid day. It clung to me, absorbed my fears and anxieties. Had her words to me been real? Had she really blamed me for something related to my brother’s death?
Why couldn’t I remember something that important? I’d had a brother, and yet there was no memory of him in my mind. I conjured an image of what I thought he might have looked like, but the faceless infant offered no comfort.
I took an exit from the highway, not even mindful of where I was. It didn’t really matter. I’d already decided that as soon as I got back to the house I was going to pack and leave. It seemed the only thing to do. I’d pretty much gotten what I’d come for—hadn’t I?
“The truth has been told. Dad’s not a murderer,” I announced in the empty confines of the car. “My mother committed suicide, and I had a brother who died from SIDS. Surely that’s enough self-exploration for one trip.”
But it wasn’t self- exploration at all. It was a telling of the family secrets. A cleaning of the closet where all the skeletal remains had been left to rot.
A small roadside church drew my attention. Since traffic had stopped for a light, I brought the car to a halt near the church’s marquee. Isaiah 41:10—Hope for the Fainthearted. I read the message a second time and then the travelers behind me honked and I realized traffic was again moving.
The sign intrigued me, and I found myself suddenly desperate for a Bible. I looked around at the shops and finally spied a bookstore. Surely they would have a copy of God’s Word, I thought sarcastically.
“May I help you?” a woman asked almost immediately upon my entry.
“I . . . well . . . do you carry any Bibles?”
She smiled indulgently. “We don’t have much of a selection, but there are a few on the shelves at the back of the store, along with some other inspirational books.”
I nodded and made my way through the store, to where the Bibles had been tucked away almost as an afterthought. I
picked one up, not sure what the differences might be between the different copies. One seemed just as good as another. After all, wasn’t the Bible . . . the Bible? Hadn’t wars been fought to keep it intact? Or maybe not. I couldn’t remember.
The woman at the register had made me feel rather self-conscious, and lest she think me a Bible thumper, I asked her if she gift wrapped.
“No, but we have some lovely gift bags,” she said pointing to a rack just inside the door.
I chose one that looked celebratory and brought it with the Bible to the counter. She rang up the purchase and took my credit card. “A graduation gift?” she asked.
It was only then that I noticed the bag’s design. I nodded and signed for the purchase. Without saying anything else, I tucked the slip and my card back into my purse and picked up the sack she handed me.
“Isaiah 41:10,” I murmured, driving away from the store. I couldn’t very well open the Bible and look up the verse right there without revealing that I wasn’t just intending to give this as a gift.
A few blocks later I found a turnoff for a marina and followed the road to an almost full parking lot. There was some sort of activity happening—a fair or craft show it looked to be. I saw one small slot at the far end of the lot and squeezed the rental into it just as another car came whipping around from the opposite direction. I saw the driver’s frustrated expression as I glanced in the rearview mirror.
“I’ll only be here a second,” I told him even though I knew he couldn’t hear me.
I pulled the Bible out of the sack and opened the box. Inside, the leather-bound edition looked quite stately. Elegant. I took it out and smiled at the attention to detail that had been given. Books were my life, and even though I was not acquainted with this one, I could recognize the quality workmanship.
I found the book of Isaiah and then the forty-first chapter. Verse ten immediately popped out at me. So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
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