Family Secrets

by Judith Henry Wall

  “There’s a jack but no phone.”

  “We’ll ask Willy at dinner to bring us phones,” Vanessa suggested.

  Vanessa stretched out for a time, then took a long shower and put on slacks and a silk blouse.

  Georgiana wore jeans with a glittery sweater and jeweled flip-flops and was carrying a large manila envelope.

  Looking as though she had just stepped out of her magazine, Ellie was wearing a long skirt of swishy taffeta, a slinky jersey tank top, a fabulous multistrand necklace of turquoise and garnets, and high-heeled sandals. She carried a tapestry purse.

  “I’m nervous,” Georgiana admitted.

  “Me, too,” Vanessa said, then put a hand on Ellie’s arm. “Can we please declare a truce for this very special evening?”

  Ellie marched past Vanessa without responding and punched the elevator call button.

  Willy, with a long face replacing her earlier smile, was waiting in the living room to take them down a circular metal staircase in a stairwell carved out of solid rock.

  “My cell phone doesn’t work,” Ellie said in an accusatory tone as she fell in behind Willy. “And there’s no phone in our rooms.”

  “Cell phones aren’t much good around here,” Willy said.

  “I need for you to bring me a regular phone,” Ellie asked.

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Willy stood to one side and allowed them to precede her into the dining room.

  One wall of the room was formed by the mountain, and the wall of windows at the other end of the room framed the beginnings of what promised to be a spectacular sunset, coloring the horizon.

  The table was set for three. Willy explained that Hattie was resting and that they were to join her in her office after dinner.

  Vanessa felt a stab of disappointment. Obviously Hattie wasn’t pumped up about seeing them if she hadn’t managed to greet them when they arrived and was resting rather than having dinner with them.

  “Aren’t you going to join us?” Vanessa asked Willy.

  “I’ve already eaten,” she said, looking down at her feet.

  An array of food was laid out on a massive slice of polished wood that was mounted directly onto the stone wall. Willy explained that the household help had the weekend off, but the cook had prepared a meal before leaving. Then she uncorked a bottle of wine and filled their glasses while Vanessa and Georgiana helped themselves to the food. Ellie stood with her back to them staring out at the view.

  Vanessa filled a small bowl with clam chowder and put it on a plate along with some grapes and a slice of French bread, then seated herself at the head of the table, hoping to act as a buffer between her sisters. Georgiana put an assortment of fresh fruit on a salad plate and carried it to the table. Ignoring the food, Ellie sat down and picked up her wineglass.

  Once they were seated, Willy told Vanessa, “If you need anything, just press the button on the underside of the table. I’ll come get you when you’re finished and take you to”—she paused, obviously having to remind herself to use the name by which the three guests knew her employer—“to meet Hattie.”

  Willy left and the room grew quiet. Vanessa took a sip of her wine, which was superb. Even Ellie would have to approve of it. Vanessa wondered what it was, but the bottle was closest to Ellie, and she didn’t care enough to ask her what the label said. She needed to say something though. Needed to start a conversation. Ellie certainly wasn’t going to. And poor Georgiana was miserable.

  This was not the way it was supposed to be.

  Twenty

  WITH silence hanging like a cloud over the table, Vanessa felt it was her responsibility as the oldest sister to negotiate a truce. But the events of the day had left her exhausted. Anyone watching them would think they were strangers.

  Except strangers would at least make polite small talk.

  The notion of watching eyes stayed in her head. But why would anyone bother? And, if Willy was to be believed, there were only two other people in the house—Willy herself and Hattie, who had not yet bothered to greet them.

  So much for making an old woman happy!

  Obviously Hattie had not been waiting all her life to find out what had happened to the son to whom she’d given birth inside the walls of the Deer Lodge prison or to meet any children he might have fathered.

  When Ellie spoke, Vanessa jumped.

  “I’m leaving in the morning,” Ellie announced. “Willy will have to drive me to an airport where I can catch a flight to New York.”

  “I wish you would wait until after we meet Hattie to decide that,” Georgiana suggested, her voice timid as though speaking to her own sister were terrifying.

  “You think I give a damn about what you wish for?” Ellie said, her voice dripping with venom.

  “Come on, Ellie,” Vanessa said sharply. “You know very good and well that Georgiana isn’t the sort of person who would try to steal her own sister’s boyfriend, and besides, the man is a piece of scum.”

  Immediately Vanessa wished she could recall her last words. She was only making matters worse.

  And what if the room was bugged and Hattie and Willy were listening in? The Wentworth sisters should not be airing their dirty linen.

  Ellie didn’t bother with a retort. She finished her glass of wine, then reached for the bottle and poured herself another.

  Vanessa glanced around at the dining room trying to decide where a microphone might be hidden. Or a camera. The room was furnished with only the table and chairs and the massive ledge on which their meal was laid out. Above the ledge was an abstract sculpture made of twisted metal. Vanessa wondered what the sculptor had in mind. Anguish, perhaps. Or confusion.

  The sculpture could hide a microphone. Or one could be stashed under the buffet perhaps. Or the table. In the chandelier.

  But why in the hell was she feeling so paranoid? Why would anyone want to watch or listen to them? This business with Ellie had gotten to her—along with the absent Hattie and her strange house. She found the mountain abode cold and stark, which probably was a reflection of its owner.

  Vanessa nibbled on grapes as she took in the view through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

  She fervently hoped that Hattie was a warm, kindly woman who would put them at ease. Maybe she really did need to rest after her business meeting this afternoon. After all, she was getting on in years.

  Georgiana had only picked at the fruit and sat staring at her plate. Ellie was polishing off her third glass of wine. Vanessa pushed the button on the underside of the table, and shortly a still somber Willy appeared and led them back up the circular staircase and put them on the elevator.

  They rode up two levels. The elevator door opened to a large room surrounded by windows on three sides. French doors opened onto a deck shaped like the bow of a ship. The sun, now a glowing red ball, was just beginning to slip below the peak of the nearest mountain.

  Vanessa looked around the large room and took a tentative few steps. “Hattie?”

  “I’m here,” a voice to her right said.

  Vanessa prickled with apprehension as she turned to face the woman who’d given birth to their father. She was seated in a large armchair at the head of a massive conference table, her back to the windows, and her face in shadows.

  “Come sit here with me.” Hattie’s voice was neither welcoming nor unwelcoming. Not a quivery, old-lady voice. An authoritative one. The voice of a woman who expected to be obeyed.

  Georgiana took the first step. Vanessa and Ellie followed.

  Ellie went around the table and took a seat Hattie’s right. Georgiana and Vanessa sat across from Ellie.

  Hattie sat erect in her chair, shoulders square, chin high, clasped hands resting in front of her on the glossy surface of the table. At her elbow were a folder and three pens. Her thick head of hair was so white it seemed to glow. With her handsome face, strong voice, and commanding posture, Vanessa would never have taken her for a woman who must be approaching eighty. Not just any woman, thou
gh. This was the woman who had given birth to their father. Vanessa had thought she would be filled with emotion when this moment came. She was nervous and apprehensive but not emotional.

  “Which one of you is Georgiana?” the woman asked.

  Georgiana leaned forward. “I am.”

  “The newspaper article gave you credit for launching the search for me. Tell me how you did that.”

  Georgiana cleared her throat and explained how they came to have the letter with a Deer Lodge postmark that someone named Hattie had written to Vera Wentworth. And how, with a computer search and some phone calls, she learned that a woman named Henrietta Polanski had been incarcerated at the Deer Lodge prison during the time their father had been born. But they weren’t sure that Henrietta was Hattie until they talked to the daughter of the doctor who’d delivered a baby boy at the prison and helped place him with a relative of his mother’s who lived in West Virginia.

  “Yes,” Hattie said. “I told the doctor the name of an aunt I’d never met but heard my parents talking about over the years, and the name of the town in West Virginia where my father’s people were from. How fortunate for you that the doctor’s daughter was still alive after all these years.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Georgiana agreed. “It was a very special moment when we realized she had cared for our newborn father. And now, it’s quite overwhelming to actually meet the woman who gave birth to him.”

  Georgiana paused before adding, “Before you continue, I’ve been wondering what we should call you. You said that you hadn’t been Hattie since you left Deer Lodge.”

  “‘Hattie’ is fine. I do go by another name now, but you girls are a remnant of my other life. So tell me, what led you girls to Coal Town and the yearbook picture?”

  “That was Vanessa’s idea,” Georgiana said, touching Vanessa’s arm. “A questionnaire that you filled out when you arrived at the prison said that you’d attended Coal Town High School. Vanessa called the high school and found out that the school library had a complete collection of yearbooks dating back to the early 1900s.”

  “You own Coal Town now, don’t you?” Vanessa asked, thinking of the sign announcing that the town was home to an Aquila mine.

  “At one time in my life I regretted not burning the town down,” Hattie said with a defiant lift of her chin. “That town and the man who owned the mine there brought a great deal of grief to my family, but the state closed him down after an anonymous whistle-blower began sending the state department of mines and various influential newspapers information on mine operations and detailing the various accidents and illnesses suffered by miners over the years. The mine had been closed for a number of years when my company acquired it. We closed down much of the underground operation, especially the older shafts, and established strip-mining, which has been most profitable.”

  Hattie turned to Ellie. “And you must be Ellie. What did you contribute to this endeavor?”

  “Not much,” Ellie admitted with a shrug, “except that I’m planning to write a magazine piece about the trip to find Hattie. Of course, your reaction is hardly what I had expected. Obviously you’re not exactly thrilled to meet three granddaughters you never knew you had.”

  “It is a shock,” Hattie allowed, her chin lifting a bit, “something I’d never thought would happen, and it does bring back a time in my life that was very difficult—a time that I’ve spent a lot of years trying to forget.”

  “I’m sorry if we’ve brought back bad memories,” Georgiana chimed in, “but out of those difficult times came our father, who was a wonderful man and a fine journalist. I’ve brought you pictures of him and some of the pieces he wrote over the years.” She put the manila envelope on the table.

  Hattie shook her head. “I never knew him, and he represents a very painful time in my life. You must understand that I willingly signed the papers giving up my parental rights to him. I had just turned seventeen and already knew exactly how I was going to escape from that prison and exactly how I was going to change my identity and my life. There was no place in my plans for a newborn baby. It’s nice to know that he turned out well, but I never called or wrote Vera Wentworth to ask about him. I had my own life to live, and I put him and those grim times out of mind.”

  So much for great expectations, Vanessa thought. Poor Georgiana’s body sagged like a deflated balloon. And Ellie, who wanted a baby more than anything, so much so she was willing to alienate herself from her own sister in an effort to hang on to a contemptible man she hoped would get her pregnant, was staring at Hattie in much the same manner that one would stare at an alien creature.

  Vanessa regarded their father’s birth mother anew, taking in her upright posture, her hands resting on the table—ungnarled hands, her nails unpolished but well tended. Her clothing was simple but appeared to be finely tailored. She wore no jewelry except for a watch. But it was not so much the way she looked that made her formidable, Vanessa decided. It was her voice and her body language announcing that she was a woman accustomed to having her own way.

  “Then why did you contact us if you had no feelings for the baby who grew up to be our father?” Vanessa asked.

  “Let’s just call it curiosity.” Hattie paused a few seconds before adding, “Oddly enough, after all those years, the past has been much with me over the last few months. Maybe the Fates put us on a collision course, and we were destined to meet. And since the three of you have come all this way, I’ve decided to tell you how it was that your father came to be born. But there is a stipulation.”

  Vanessa almost didn’t want to hear what the woman had to say. Obviously it was not going to be a heartwarming tale. Vanessa had had no preconceived notion as to what sort of a person Hattie would be, but she had expected the woman to find some satisfaction or closure or maybe even pride to learn that the son she’d given away grew up to be a decent, worthy man. Apparently she had no feelings at all for the baby she’d birthed all those years ago in the prison at Deer Lodge.

  Vanessa wished they’d never seen Hattie’s note to Miss Vera. Wished they’d never come in search of her.

  But they had come, so they would hear her tale and politely take their leave, the sooner the better as far as Vanessa was concerned. No way were they going to remain in her home for the rest of their vacation as Willy had suggested. Vanessa now realized that Willy must have assumed too much in that regard. Probably she was lonely living in such an isolated place and looked forward to visitors.

  “I haven’t been Hattie since I escaped from prison,” the woman who gave birth to their father said. “I became someone else altogether, and no one knew about the early part of my life—not the men I married or my children, and I am speaking of the children I raised. When I think of my children, I have never included that long-ago baby in my maternal musings.”

  “But you wrote that sweet little letter to your aunt Vera thanking her for taking in your baby,” Georgiana reminded Hattie.

  “I’d forgotten about that until I read that newspaper article,” Hattie admitted as she gazed past them into lengthening shadows taking over the large room. “The doctor told me that my aunt had come to fetch the baby. He asked if I wanted to visit with Vera before she headed back to West Virginia. Since I’d never seen the woman before in my life, I didn’t see any need to meet her. But she had done a laudable thing, so I expressed my thanks with that note. I find it beyond amazing that the note survived for all these years.

  “When I saw that picture this morning in the Denver newspaper, the past came rolling back,” Hattie continued. “And oddly enough, after all these years of never speaking about what happened back then, I had pretty much convinced myself that the past was no longer relevant, yet I find that I am willing to tell you girls my story mostly because I want to hear it myself and perhaps in doing so figure out some things that have always puzzled me.”

  Ellie reached into her handbag and pulled out a small tape recorder.

  “No recorders,” Hattie snapped. “Wh
at I tell you is never to be revealed. There will be no magazine article. After tonight, we will never see each other again. Now, before we begin, I expect you girls to sign a confidentiality agreement in which you agree never to tell anyone what you learned here tonight. And if you violate the terms of that agreement, you do so at great financial risk.”

  “What will you do if we refuse to sign it?” Vanessa challenged.

  “Then you will never know the story of how your father came to be born.” Hattie focused on Vanessa’s face, her tone almost wistful. “My dear, the only reason I thought of the agreement was to make you and your sisters feel entirely comfortable hearing things that I have never told anyone—and to let you know that I am quite serious about confidentiality. You came here wanting to know about your father’s birth and why I gave him away, and I have decided that you have a right to know these things. But I need to know that what I divulge is secure and that you girls will never reveal it to anyone. Never. You also need to know that I am a woman with immense resources and can make life very difficult for you should you not honor this agreement, which I assure you is entirely legal. Willy is a notary public and will certify your signatures.”

  Hattie rose and placed a copy of the document and a pen in front of each of them just as the elevator door slid open, revealing Willy’s enormous form. Hattie went to the head of the table and reached under it, and panels slid open in front of each place at the conference table, and brass lamps, each with a green-glass shade, magically rose into place.

  Vanessa turned on her lamp and read the agreement. The wording seemed pretty straightforward. If she or one of her sisters violated the privacy of the woman they knew as Hattie Worth Polanski, they would open themselves up to a lawsuit that would probably leave them penniless.

  Amazing, Vanessa thought. It must be some story Hattie was planning to tell them. She thought of her fantasy about her and her sisters sharing the Hattie story with her mother and Lily and Beth during their late-summer visit to France. Apparently that was not to be. The agreement spelled out everything. They couldn’t even tell anyone that they had made this trip to Colorado.