House Of Secrets

by Tracie Peterson

  My breath came in rapid pants and my throat was so dry I could hardly recognize that the screaming and moaning I heard was coming from my own throat. I sat up but the room swam before me.

  “It was just a nightmare,” my father said. He touched my face. “She’s burning up. Bailee, are you sick?”

  Just then my stomach churned. “I’m gonna throw up.”

  Judith reacted quickly. She grabbed my empty waste can and brought it to the bed just as I began to dry heave. “Piper, would you get your sister some water? Geena, do we have something for a fever?”

  “I’ll go look,” Geena said.

  My stomach finally calmed a bit and I gave a shudder and moan. “It was so horrible, Dad.”

  “The nightmare?”

  Dad sat down on the bed beside me, and I grabbed hold of him like there was no tomorrow. “No,” I said hoarsely. “It wasn’t just a nightmare. It was . . . a memory. It was when Noah died.”

  My father frowned. Judith turned to take the glass of water Piper had just brought back. “Here, just take a sip and spit it out.” I did as instructed.

  Geena returned with a couple of aspirins. “These ought to help with the fever.”

  “Thank you,” Judith said and passed me the pills. “I know your stomach is upset, so maybe wait a little bit before you take these.”

  I nodded and Dad took the pills from me and placed them on the nightstand. He smiled and pushed back my hair. “Now then, I’ll send the girls to the store for some soda and crackers. That ought to help with the nausea.”

  “Oh, have them get some chicken soup too,” Judith suggested.

  I was frustrated that no one wanted to hear about my memory. I pulled on Dad’s arm like a small child might. “Dad, listen to me. I know what happened to Noah. I remember what happened.”

  “That’s fine, sweetheart, but you need to rest.” He looked at Judith and then to my sisters. The look on their faces suggested a problem. Did they think I was crazy? Were they afraid of me—of the scene I’d just made?

  The memory lingered and wouldn’t let me go. “She killed him,” I said. “Momma killed Noah. She said it was my fault, but it wasn’t. It was hers.”

  My father shook his head. “No, Bailee. It was SIDS. Noah died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. It wasn’t her fault or yours.”

  I pulled back. “No, you don’t understand. She took us out and hid us in the garage or some sort of shed. She hid Noah in a garbage bag and put me in a box. She buried Noah at the bottom of a pile of blankets.”

  Dad’s eyes widened and his face paled. “What are you saying?”

  “She used to hide us. She said bad men were coming to take us away. She said if I told you, the men would overhear and find me. She told me they would take me away forever. She hid us that day. I don’t know how long we were out there. When she came back for us . . . when she told me to get Noah, I couldn’t find him.” I began to sob. “Oh, Daddy . . . I couldn’t find him.”

  My father reached out and took hold of my arm. “Bailee, it’s all right.”

  I shook my head over and over. “She took him out of the bag and he didn’t move. He didn’t cry. He never woke up again. We went in the house, and she put him in the bed. I thought he was asleep, but he wasn’t.” I put my hands to my face and wept as I never had before. My head throbbed from the tirade.

  Dad pulled me into his arms, but his embrace was one of someone in shock. It was like he’d lost his son all over again, and this time . . . this time it really was my fault.

  Chapter 22

  When Mark called later that night to let me know he’d gotten back to New York safely, Geena happened to be the one checking on me and picked up the call.

  “Bailee’s phone, this is Geena,” she answered.

  I saw Geena nod. “She’s right here, Mark, but she’s sick. Caught a bug of some sort.”

  I held up my hand to take the phone. Geena didn’t hesitate. She handed me the cell, but refused to leave.

  “Hello?” My voice was gravelly and dry.

  “You sound awful. What happened? This afternoon you were fine.”

  “I’m not sure. It hit me pretty fast.” I coughed to clear my throat but it did no good. “I was on the way home when I just started feeling like I was catching a cold or something. Anyway, I’m sick.”

  “Well, I just wanted to let you know I’d made it back safely.” The tone of his voice sounded detached—almost like he was purposefully trying not to feel too much.

  “I’m glad,” I said and my energy began to fade. I wanted to tell him about my memory, but I didn’t have the strength. I wondered if Geena would mind filling in.

  “I’ll let you go then. I need to be up early.”

  “Oh—all right. Good night.”

  “That was short,” Geena said, taking the phone from my hand. I nodded and closed my eyes. Had I sabotaged myself? I couldn’t think clearly and struggled to make sense of it all. Maybe it was just the sickness talking, but I felt as though I’d just lost my best friend.

  The night passed with me slipping in and out of sleep. At one point I woke up in a sweat, despite only having a sheet over me. I threw back the soft Egyptian cotton cover with the strength of a newborn kitten.

  “Don’t get chilled,” Judith commanded. She got up from the overstuffed chair and came to the bed.

  “How come you’re sleeping in the chair?” I asked.

  She drew the sheet back over me, then reached out a hand to touch my forehead. “Because you had a fever of 103. That merits some special attention. If it wasn’t lower by morning, we planned to take you to the hospital. You feel cooler now, however.”

  “I feel much better. Not so achy.”

  “That’s a good sign.” She took up a washcloth and wiped my forehead. “We’ve been worried about you.”

  “Anybody else sick?”

  She shook her head. “No. Not yet anyway.”

  She was so very tender with me. Her gentleness made me think of how many times I’d longed for a mother’s gentle touch.

  “Judith, may I ask you a question about your childhood?”

  “Of course.” She stopped her ministering and sat beside me. “What is it you want to know?”

  “Did you have a good relationship with your mother?”

  She smiled and pushed back my damp hair. “I did and still do. Why do you ask?”

  “I don’t know. I guess because I never did, but I saw other girls who did. I always envied them. They were proud to have their mothers around—they liked doing things together. To see some of them openly show their love. . . . I can’t explain how it affected me.”

  “That had to be hard on you.”

  “It still is. When I watch television or a movie where someone has that kind of relationship, I find myself wavering between bitter anger and a longing so deep it threatens to stop my heart.” I shook my head. “Well, maybe not that—but it is painful.”

  Judith put her hand on mine. “I can’t imagine the sadness of being a child in your position. To grow up without the affection and attention you deserved must have been hideous. To instead find yourself responsible for things and people that you had no business safeguarding was not only difficult, but most unfair. No child should have had to face the things you did.”

  It was only then that I thought of Dad and how my revelation must have devastated him. “Is Dad okay?”

  My stepmother looked at her hands. “He’s very upset. Of course, he’s worried about you more than anything.”

  I tried to sit up, but my head was still a mess. I fell back, dizzy, and closed my eyes. “Do you think he’d come and talk to me here?”

  She nodded. “I know he would. He sat with you part of the night.”

  The thought of that touched me, and I refixed my gaze on Judith. “He did?”

  “He would have stayed the entire night if I’d let him. Instead, I insisted we take shifts and that way we could be rested for the morning in case you were worse and needed
to go to the hospital.” She got up. “I’ll get him.”

  I waited for his return, feeling weak and completely incapable. Whatever bug I’d managed to catch was clearly doing a number on me.

  “Hey, babe, are you feeling better?” Dad asked as he came into the room. He was wearing a T-shirt and matching baggy sleeping pants. But he didn’t look like he’d managed much rest.

  “My head still hurts and I’m dizzy. My aching is better though, and I don’t feel like I want to heave my guts onto the floor.”

  He smiled and sat down beside me, where Judith had been only moments before. I reached out and took hold of his hand. It wasn’t something either of us expected. In fact, it was rather foreign to the both of us.

  “Dad, I’m so sorry for just blurting out all that stuff about Noah and Mom.”

  He put a finger to my lips. “Never apologize for the truth.”

  I let my breath out in a whoosh. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding it. “So you . . . believe me?”

  “Of course. Why shouldn’t I?” He shook his head. “I should have known. I should have at least guessed. People kept telling me there was something wrong with your mother—that I shouldn’t leave you kids alone with her. I just figured their concerns were unfounded.”

  “Who was concerned?” I asked, feeling my strength give out.

  “Neighbors, and later teachers, school officials. It was one of the reasons I kept us moving. If we stayed too long in one place, people started asking a lot of questions. Why is your wife so obsessed with her children? Why doesn’t she see to it that the children attend school regularly? Things like that.”

  A thread of anger coursed through my body. Despite being sick, I looked at him hard. “And even though people were asking questions, you just let it go on?”

  He nodded and looked away. “I’m sorry. I just never thought your mother was a danger. You girls always seemed pretty happy. I remember things were bad for a while after Noah died, but everyone—the doctor, your mother’s pastor, my mother—everyone said it was normal for your mother to act out her feelings and focus them on the child who survived.”

  “So you left me to her mercy?” I could hardly make sense of what he was saying. I closed my eyes. “How could you just turn your back on me?” I drifted into a haze of questions that had no answers. It felt like a battle was going on inside of me and the winner would determine how I responded to my father.

  “Bailee?” At the sound of Dad calling my name, I opened my eyes.

  “What?”

  “I was talking to you, but you fell asleep.” He touched my forehead. “We can talk about this later.”

  “But you’re leaving to go back to Boston,” I protested.

  “No. We’ll wait until you feel better—we all agreed that it was best.”

  I gave a weak nod. “If you promise that we’ll talk later.”

  “I promise.”

  When I woke up again it was late in the afternoon. On the dresser opposite the bed stood a huge bouquet of flowers. Stargazer lilies and white roses dominated the cluster, and I couldn’t help but remember the bouquet Mark had bought for me at the market.

  I started to get up and investigate, but noticed that someone had put a dining room chair beside my bed. There was a bell and a note on it. I picked up the paper.

  Ring for service, it read.

  The thought made me smile, and I gave the bell an enthusiastic shake. I was still ringing when Piper and Geena popped in.

  “You certainly look better,” Geena declared. “Terribly pale and disheveled, but better.”

  “Gee, thanks,” I replied.

  “Man, you scared us all half to death,” Piper said. “Are you hungry?”

  I considered her question for a moment and shook my head. “I could stand something to drink. I was really just wondering about the flowers.”

  Geena laughed and retrieved a card from the arrangement. “Who do you suppose sent them?”

  I took the card from her and opened it. “ ‘Will be praying for your speedy recovery. Mark.’ ”

  “Just ‘Mark’? No ‘forever yours’ or ‘with deepest love’?” Piper asked. She seemed far cheerier than I’d seen her in a while.

  I put the card aside. “I’m not sure what he feels.”

  “Oh please.” Geena rolled her eyes. “He’s crazy about you.” She took a seat on the chair and Piper perched on the bed beside me.

  “And do you love him?” Piper asked innocently enough. “Are wedding bells ringing?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. I think I . . . I do love him, but marriage is out of the question—at least for a time. I have a lot to sort through after coming here and remembering Noah. This has been such a hard time.”

  Piper reached out and took hold of my hand. “You saved me from dying like he did.”

  “I’m sure you saved me as well,” Geena said. “I’m so sorry, Bailee. I’m sorry for all you had to go through. What a nightmare it must have been.”

  “You must have felt so alone.” Piper drew my hand to her own. “I’m so sorry.”

  Their declarations made me feel strange. I was relieved that they finally understood about the past, but I was confused as to where to go from here.

  “Judith had a suggestion,” Geena began. “She thought maybe it would be helpful if the three of us girls went to counseling together. We could have some sessions where we talked from our own perspective about . . . Mom and those times.”

  I looked from Geena to Piper, who was nodding. “And you’d both be willing?”

  “I think it’s time we put it all to rest,” Geena declared. “It might even help Piper with her sadness. Most of all . . .” She paused and looked at Piper and then back to me. “Most of all I’d hope it would help you.”

  I felt her squeeze my hand. “I think it would.”

  Chapter 23

  I was feeling much better by the second day, and when Dad came into my bedroom to talk, I felt ready to deal with the matters at hand. He pulled up a chair and sat down, looking for all the world to be bearing more weight than ever before. I wasn’t surprised. As I’d been lying in bed thinking about baby Noah and my mother, I continued to come back to my father’s role in it all. It still made me angry that he had his suspicions and yet did nothing.

  “Since you’re feeling better, Judith thought you might want to talk.”

  “I doubt it will be pleasant.”

  He nodded. “I suppose it’s to be expected. I did you wrong, Bailee. I’m not just saying that so you’ll forgive me and move on. I’m saying it because I mean it. When you told me what had happened with Noah, it . . . well . . . it sort of confirmed my worst fears.”

  I scooted up in the bed and stuffed an extra pillow behind me. “In what way?”

  “The night before your brother died, your mother was restless. Around midnight she all of a sudden got up from bed. I asked her where she was going, and she told me she had something to do. I suggested she take care of it in the morning, but she said it couldn’t wait and she wouldn’t be long. She kissed me and told me to go back to sleep. I started to do just that, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I ought to follow her. I deliberated for several minutes, arguing with myself that I was just being paranoid.

  “You see, Bailee, your mother was very good at hiding the truth. She appeared so perfectly normal most of the time. But that was in the early years of her disorder. I knew she often ‘talked’ to her grandmother—who had died when Natalie was six or seven. But there was a part of me that thought that was just her way of coping with the loss of her family. I had no understanding until later that she really saw her grandmother—thought she was alive and well.”

  “What does that have to do with that night, Dad?” I wanted desperately to keep him focused for fear he’d go off on a rabbit trail that would never return to the path I needed to follow.

  “Well, I heard your mom talking to someone, and so I got up and followed after her. She was standing in the
doorway to your bedroom—yours and Noah’s. She seemed to be having a conversation with someone and it wasn’t at all pleasant. She was upset, but her voice was hushed so that she wouldn’t wake you.”

  “What was she saying?”

  “She was talking to her grandmother. I couldn’t hear it all, but your mother kept saying, ‘Don’t be mad at me.’ Then she said, ‘I promise to take care of it; I just can’t do it now.’ I couldn’t imagine what in the world she was talking about, so I interrupted her. She stared at me like I wasn’t even there. She seemed so distant—so empty. I took her back to bed and stayed awake until she fell asleep.

  “The next morning I asked her about getting up in the night and what was going on. She denied it. Said I must have dreamed it or else she was just sleepwalking. She reminded me we’d both been keeping long hours—me with work, she with a newborn—and were overly tired. It made sense to me—I suppose because I wanted it to. I told myself she’d been sleepwalking and nothing more. I think a part of me even wanted to pretend I had just dreamed up the whole thing.”

  “But surely you knew the difference between reality and a dream,” I said.

  Dad folded his hands and leaned back against the chair. “I thought I did. But you have to understand—your mother was so convincing. I went to work that day and told myself that it must have been exactly as she suggested. You have to understand, it was really the first time I’d seen something like this happen. Especially something that involved you kids.”

  He paused and fixed me with a hard stare. “Bailee, do you remember your mother ever hiding you away before the time with Noah?”

  I thought about it for a moment. There were all sorts of nightmares where Mom was hiding us girls, but I honestly couldn’t remember times prior to Noah, except for bits and pieces. “I have images of Mom and me alone, but not the fear and anxiety I felt after the others were born. In fact, I didn’t realize until now that some of those nightmares I’ve been having revolved around what happened with Noah—because I didn’t remember having a brother. I always figured the baby was Geena or Piper.”