My Husband's Sin

by Mary T Bradford

  “Oh Willow, why? Why? Why? Why?” she whispered into the darkness. Could Willow hear her? Were they together now, her mum and her sister?

  Had it been her fault Willow had taken her life? Had the idea of a retreat house pushed her over the edge? Did the others blame her, especially Derek? No wonder sleep was proving so elusive.

  * * *

  On the drive over to Philip Sherman’s house, Lacey stopped and bought some ginger biscuits. She had noticed that he always had a packet on his office desk, so they must be his favourite. She bought some flowers for his wife, too.

  “A cup of tea will be fine, thank you, Mrs. Sherman.” Lacey thanked the elegant, middle-aged woman who led her into the conservatory. Sitting there, relaxed and composed-looking, was Philip. Lacey automatically bent down and kissed his cheek.

  “Hello, Philip. You’re looking good.” She settled into the armchair opposite.

  “Nothing like taking it easy, Lacey. I’m seriously thinking of retiring,” he chuckled. “Anyway, how are you? Have you news for me?”

  “Nothing really. Willow’s death really knocked us all. Today is the first day I’ve really thought about getting back on track with matters. She mentioned a metal box before she...she died,” Lacey faltered a little. She couldn’t say the word suicide yet. She tried to remember the kind Willow, the caring older sister, rather than the bitter nasty woman Willow had morphed into.

  “A metal box? Do the others know anything about it?” Philip looked thoughtful, as though he was trying to recall any mention of it in his chats with Joe Taylor.

  “Nope, well, I’ve not really brought it up much. Sally isn’t thinking very straight at the moment. So I don’t want to hassle her too much.”

  The morning sun streamed in through the windows as they sat and drank their tea in silence. A firm friendship had grown between them and they were relaxed in each other’s company. Sneaking a look at Philip, Lacey was happy to see him looking well. There was colour in his face and he even had a sparkle in his eyes; he looked so wise.

  “Philip, I have to ask you. Your heart attack, was I part of the reason you got ill?”

  He laughed out loud. “I’d love to say yes,” he teased her. “But no, I had been warned to cut back long before that. It was just bad timing, Lacey, that’s all.”

  He put the folded newspaper that lay on his lap onto a side table. He had been tackling the crossword when Lacey arrived. He took in her worried look and smiled warmly at her, his own concern for her had evaporated now that he knew Willow’s death had not set Lacey back in finding her birth mother.

  “I guess I feel to blame for everything that’s been happening. Willow reckoned it was the secret of Dad’s affair that killed Lillian, and then I was questioning you and you got ill, and then Willow died because of Lillian’s death, I think.” Lacey sighed.

  “All just horrible events in a short space of time, that’s all, my dear. Think no more of them,” he reassured her in a calm voice.

  “Why did Dad not want me at the reading of his will?” she asked, as she picked at the fringed cushion next to her, oblivious to her own actions.

  “He wanted to spare you the heartache. I know he wrote the letter to you after you were born and left it in our files. Lillian was insistent she would handle the issue of your birth and I had no reason to doubt her.”

  “Why with you and not with the company who handled my adoption?”

  “He wanted it placed with his will. To be sure you would receive it, I suppose,” Philip replied.

  “In her letter to me, she mentioned there was other stuff in their marriage that had an influence on the decision to raise me. Do you know about that?”

  “Robert was asking me about that the day he and Willow came to see me. I’m beginning to think she knew more than she told you, Lacey. Willow lost her cool that day in my office. She was very defensive of Lillian. Maybe that metal box she told you about will give you the answers. Maybe it was her way of making peace with you before she...died.”

  “So if I find the metal box, my questions will be put to rest?” Lacey could feel excitement daring to grow inside her again.

  Philip smiled kindly back at her. “Let’s hope so.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Back home, Lacey again went to Lillian’s bedroom and searched. She pulled out every drawer and placed them on the bed. There were treasures of all sorts, keepsakes from different events the family had attended. Carefully going through every scrap of paper, hoping they would tell her about a safety deposit box or a letter, she had soon covered the bed with Lillian’s mementoes.

  Next she went to the wardrobe and gave it a thorough search. There were few clothes hanging up, as her sisters had recycled most things to charity shops. Lacey stood in the familiar bedroom and gazed around her, perplexed as to where to look next. The dressing table and wardrobe had offered up nothing. The bedside locker yielded even less, the book Lillian had been reading still lay there undisturbed.

  Lacey dropped to her knees and looked under the bed. Not a trace of a box or a letter was to be found. She sat on the bed and thought where else she could search.

  She climbed the stairs to the attic and began exploring each cardboard box and combing each paper for something useful. The attic was stuffy and she could see the dust motes dance their way around in the air as she threw open the skylight. During her search she found plenty of childhood toys and old photo albums, but put them to the side for reminiscing at another time.

  After what seemed like ages, her tummy rumbling reminded her that it was time to eat. Cobwebs and dust were sprinkled and tangled in her hair and on her clothes, and she was so disorientated she couldn’t remember if it was lunch or dinner she should be having.

  Returning down the attic stairs, she blinked in the bright sunlight on the landing. Her eyes strained for a few seconds after the dimness of the attic room. Sally had gone out earlier that morning and had not returned home since. Lacey glanced at the kitchen clock, with her mind in turmoil. What if Sally had snapped like Willow? What if she felt as bewildered as their dead sister? It was now five-fifteen and Sally had not made any contact. Lacey’s worry grew; Willow’s death had left them all edgy and a little paranoid.

  The evening drew in and Lacey, having tidied up in the kitchen after her meal earlier, went up for a bath. She sent Sally a text asking her if she had eaten, or should Lacey get something ready for her? The message didn’t deliver. Lacey forced herself to stay calm. She mustn’t jump to conclusions. The bath would help her relax.

  She added her favourite lavender oil and lit some candles. Sitting into the warm, welcoming water, she lay her head back on the inflatable pillow and closed her eyes. Peace at last, she thought. The warm bath was like a giant hug for her weary mind and body.

  * * *

  Sally arrived home late. She heard her little sister walking around upstairs, but didn’t feel like conversation. She had gone out to the cemetery that morning and met Derek there. He visited the grave each morning and still could not grasp that his wife had gone. They had stood there in silence, their minds both filled with unanswered questions and a lot of guilt.

  Sally watched as he tidied up the wreaths of flowers, picking off the dead flowers and leaves. His tears kept falling, wetting his hands as he busied himself with the task of sorting the garlands that lay neatly together.

  She stepped over closer and hugged him. Holding each other tightly, they wept together. Although they drew comfort from each other’s presence, neither of them found it any easier to answer the big question: why?

  Linking arms, they walked slowly around the cemetery grounds, finding solace in their peaceful surroundings. So many headstones marking death of all ages; old, young and in-between, and death by so many ways – illness, accident, and by choice.

  They spoke in hushed tones as if they would disturb those resting beneath the earth.

  “Sally, what did I do wrong? Did I push her away so much that she felt alone and ab
andoned?”

  “Of course you didn’t, Derek. We all know how much you loved each other. She was in an unhappy place in her life and we did our best. It’s an upsetting thing, suicide, but those of us who are left will never fully understand or never have the answers, only the questions.”

  “Everyone handles grief in different ways, I guess, and differently again by males and females, would you think, Sal?”

  She sensed he needed to understand so much, his emotions tearing him up inside.

  “I’m so lonely without her, Sally. I don’t think the physical ache that is pulling and tugging at my heart will ever go away.”

  “I don’t have the answers, Derek. But yes, grief is different for everyone. Talking to each other and being together will help us through these dark days.”

  Had they all abandoned each other since their mother’s death? She was deep in thought as she linked his arm tighter and they continued walking.

  They lunched together and chatted some more, but Sally didn’t reveal that she would be leaving Ireland after the New Year. It didn’t feel right or appropriate to announce her departure when he was still so upset and lonely.

  She had no idea where she would go. She’d no plans or put any thoughts into organising her itinerary or what route she would take; all she knew was she had to leave. She and Derek eventually parted – he to return to his empty, dull house; she to a house waiting for her to decide her future.

  Once home, Sally went to her bedroom. She needed to sleep. The restless, uneasy nights had caught up with her.

  * * *

  Relief washed over Lacey when she heard her sister eventually return home. Sally was the most grounded person she knew but, having lost so much lately, everyone seemed to be on high alert.

  Lacey lay awake for a while. She needed to move on with finding her real mum. She could not allow her grief at losing Willow to interfere with her mission to locate Cora Maguire. She must not allow any distraction to breathe distance between her quest and reaching its answers.

  Maybe Willow had spoken to Robert about it. After all, Philip Sherman said they had visited him earlier. She didn’t want to push Sally on the missing box, so instead she would talk to Robert.

  Perhaps if she could discover why Lillian had agreed to raise her, it might help with finding her birth mother. How different life would have been for her as Lacey Maguire; the name rested uneasily on her tongue. Had her mother married? Was she still using her maiden name, and did Lacey have other siblings? So many questions; she was tired of them, tired of all the wanting to know and never finding the right answers.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Aoife and Robert were having a lazy Saturday. They were sitting in their dressing gowns eating breakfast when Lacey phoned. Robert was happy that he and his little sister were back on track. Willow’s death had been a real wake-up call to them all.

  Aoife was so calming and strong in helping him to handle all that had been thrown at them recently. She kept him grounded, reminding him to sort issues into different priorities and then decide what to tackle first.

  “Hey, Lacey, what has you up at this early hour?”

  “Robert, it’s eleven in the morning! Gosh, being in love really has changed you, you’re all marshmallow and sweetness,” she laughed, as she ribbed him.

  “Who said anything about love? This is the real me. I’m always sweet, you cheeky monkey,” he teased her back and smiled across at Aoife.

  “Listen, can we meet for a chat? I know I’ve asked you this before but I need help with some stuff about my quest for my real mum. Would you help me, please?”

  She waited as he paused before answering.

  “How about we meet tomorrow? Aoife is meeting her parents then, so I’m free. Is that any good?” Robert wasn’t really up for soul-searching today, but he would meet Lacey tomorrow and chat then. He winked at Aoife and smiled. She was the best thing in his life by a long shot; work was no longer his number one priority after the loss of his mother and sister.

  “Perfect, thanks, Rob. Say hi to Aoife.”

  Rob switched off his phone and turned his attention back to Aoife.

  “My sis says ‘hi’,” he smiled across the table.

  “I’m glad you’re meeting her tomorrow. It’s not good to be angry with each other,” Aoife said, as she munched her cereal.

  “One thing I’ve learnt, Aoife, is life is too short,” he sighed, “and I don’t want to lose any more family from my life.”

  * * *

  The following morning Rob drove over to the girls’ house. He was in an upbeat mood and was determined to stay that way. Lacey, greeting him with a hug, said Sally was showering and would be down later. So, grabbing a cup of tea, Rob and his youngest sister went to the sitting room.

  “Okay, let’s hear about it?” he asked, as he settled on the sofa.

  “Do you recall in Lillian’s letter, she said there were other circumstances in the marriage – other than me – that had taken place?”

  “Yes. Willow and I were asking old Sherman about it at his office, but she lost the cool altogether and that ended that,” he remembered. Thinking of her outburst in the office, he remembered Willow so full of energy and fight. But now she was gone from them, lying still and cold.

  “Did Willow know, do you think? Was she protecting Lillian by throwing a tantrum and putting you off the scent, so to speak?” Lacey asked.

  “Maybe. Have you found something in your searches that can help us?” Rob was curious.

  Since he had read Lillian’s letter, it had bugged him what the other circumstances were, too. It was a puzzle he longed to solve.

  “Philip told me there is another letter. One that Dad wrote for me, but Lillian never gave it to me. And we don’t know for sure if she destroyed it or not.” Lacey’s voice grew quieter until she was almost whispering.

  “What? She’d never, surely not?” Rob was amazed. “When was this?”

  “At the reading of Dad’s will, apparently Philip gave it to her to forward to me but she never did.” The sadness in Lacey’s voice filled. “Like I said, I don’t know for sure. But then before Willow died, she whispered to me that Lillian’s metal box would help me.”

  “A metal box?”

  “Yeah, you don’t know anything about one, I suppose, do you?”

  Robert shook his head. “Good God, talk about opening Pandora’s Box.” He let out a sharp whistle.

  Sally joined her siblings in the sitting room. She sat by Rob on the sofa and leaned in to greet him with a kiss on the cheek, while he hugged her in return. Willow’s death had brought the three of them closer.

  “What Pandora’s Box is that?” Sally asked, looking from one to the other.

  “I was filling him in on the latest twist in the neverending saga of my increasingly complicated life,” Lacey sighed.

  “You have searched through Mum’s stuff?” Rob asked. The idea of a mystery box stirred his curiosity.

  “Yes, I went through it a few days ago, and nothing.” Lacey’s spirit seemed to be dissolving quickly with each disappointing thought.

  “What about you, Sally? When you and Willow packed up her clothes, did you see anything in her closets? Or maybe it’s a second safety deposit box in a bank which Willow was referring to,” Rob was feeling stirrings of excitement now.

  “I thought it may be that, too, but Philip Sherman said he knows nothing about two boxes, only the one Lillian kept her jewellery in,” Lacey sighed again.

  “Willow and I packed her clothes off to charity. Her private papers, receipts and bank statements, we burned, and– Oh my good Lord!” Sally shrieked and jumped off the sofa.

  She ran from the room leaving Rob and Lacey looking at each other in amazement, shocked by her outburst. They heard her thumping back down the stairs before she stopped in front of them, breathless, holding a metal box in her shaking hands.

  Finding her breath, she offered the box to Lacey. “I’m sorry, so sorry, we found this
in Mum’s room and I put it away to open some other time. I completely forgot.”

  The air was buzzing with anticipation.

  “Is there a key? Have you opened it?” Lacey’s hands trembled as she held the black box.

  Could this be it? Could this box hold the answers for her, and her siblings?

  “No, no, we couldn’t open it and that’s why we put it away for safe keeping.” Sally was near tears. “I’m sorry, Lacey, it never really clicked with me.”

  “That’s okay, Sally, we’ve all been distracted.”

  Robert went to the kitchen and returned with a screwdriver. “Give me that,” he said, as he took the box from Lacey and proceeded to unscrew the cover. It was a struggle at first, but the screws finally came free. Inside were envelopes and documents and some photos.

  * * *

  Kneeling by the low coffee table, Lacey’s heart was in her mouth as she emptied out the box contents. She gently handled each piece of paper, placing them one by one onto the coffee table. No-one spoke, anticipation crackled in the air. All of them were aware that this was a special moment.

  She looked at the photos – two of them taken in a hospital, a baby’s nursery. A tiny bundle with a pink knitted hat and big bright eyes stared back at her. Turning it over, she saw her father’s handwriting. Written in pencil: Lacey, four days old.

  The other photo was of a young, dark-haired woman, holding the baby. Lacey’s hands trembled more as she turned it over to read: Lacey and her mum.

  It was too much for her; she sank down on the armchair. She so wanted to cry, but something was stuck in her throat; her chest tightened and her breathing became difficult. Oh my God, she thought, I’ve found my mum. The photo showing her as a baby in her mother’s arms proved that Cora Maguire did exist.

  She felt faint. She could hear mumbling somewhere around her, but could not make out what was being said. The voices seemed to be in the distance. Lacey was floating, her mind light with the drama of what she had discovered.