Secrets in the Attic

by V. C. Andrews

  "Apparently, Karen kept all the symptoms to herself," she continued.

  "How far along is she?" Mama asked, slipping into her own seat.

  "Ten weeks." She looked at Jesse. "Does anyone have any idea where Karen was ten weeks ago?" "Jesse?" Daddy said.

  Jesse nodded, the guilt pouring off his face.

  "What do you intend to do about it, Darlene?" Daddy asked her.

  "It's not what I intend to do, is it?"

  "She's bringing the baby to term?"

  "I certainly won't ask her to have an abortion. I am not a good Catholic. I don't attend church regularly, but there are certain sins I won't commit"

  "Of course not," Mama said, even though I suspected she would have chosen differently. "Have you spoken to Karen?"

  "Yes. She says she must have the baby, it was an immaculate conception, but we know otherwise, don't we?" she asked, again glaring at Jesse.

  "Of course, we'll pay any expenses," Daddy said.

  "For how long?" Darlene countered instantly, turning to him.

  "For as long as necessary," he said.

  "I can tell you this much," she said. "Karen obviously cannot be a mother, and I, at this point in my life, don't want the obligation and responsibility of rearing another child. I failed terribly with my one and only."

  Again, there was a long, silent pause.

  "Well, I'm sure you can give the baby up for adoption," Daddy said.

  "Yes, I'm sure. Like cleaning up after spilt milk" "I'll help you in any way I can," Daddy said. "Please, be assured of that, Darlene."

  She nodded, her chin quivering. Mama rose and put her arm around her shoulders.

  "It just doesn't end," Darlene moaned. "I don't even know what will be with Karen."

  There was nothing to say. Jesse had his head down, and I looked away, biting my lower lip. Darlene rose slowly and, with Mama still embracing her, walked out. We heard the front door open and then close. Mama returned, shaking her head, her own face now crumpling. She turned and ran out. We heard her pound the stairs to her and Daddy's bedroom.

  Daddy sat back.

  "I'm sorry, Dad."

  "Me, too. Go up and talk to your mother," he said. "I'm still hungry." He stabbed his fork into a piece of roast beef.

  Jesse stood up, glanced at me, and walked out.

  "My father used to say that when you made a big mistake, a real error in judgment, you placed yourself in the hands of unmerciful forces. Things have a way of spiraling out. I doubt that you'll forget any of this, Zipporah, but I hope you won't fall into those unmerciful hands, too," Daddy said. "Go on and eat. Your mother will feel even worse if she sees no one ate her dinner."

  "I can't," I whined.

  "It's not all your fault, Zipporah. It didn't start with your hiding her out or Jesse having an affair with her. We don't know what started it, but it's not all your fault. I don't want you to think I believe you're innocent of any wrongdoing, but you're not solely the bad guy here. Understand? Do you?"

  "Yes."

  "Then force yourself to eat something You have to think of restoring yourself. We all do," he said.

  Would I ever have his wisdom and strength? I wondered. Would Jesse?

  Before Daddy and I were finished, Jesse returned with Mama, and they sat at the table.

  No one spoke. Jesse helped me clean off the dishes and then clean up the kitchen, while Mama and Daddy talked softly in his home office. Afterward, Jesse and I went out and sat on the front porch, staring at the dark road. Only one vehicle went by.

  "I think that's Mr. Bedick," I said. "He almost hit me one night when I was walking home from the village. It was my fault. I wish he had."

  "Don't talk stupid," Jesse said. "I have the monopoly on that in this family."

  I couldn't help but smile.

  We heard the front door open. Daddy stood there looking out at us a moment.

  "Come inside," he said. "In the living room." He turned, leaving the door open, and we quickly followed. Mama was already seated on the sofa. We sat beside her. Daddy took his seat.

  "We've made a decision," he began. "We're adopting the child."

  "You are?" I asked, incredulous.

  "Adopting might be the wrong word. I'm not sure. He or she is our grandchild," he said. "Your mother and I are somewhat old-fashioned when it comes to this sort of thing."

  He looked at her, and she smiled at him. With that smile, she looked years younger to me.

  "We believe in bearing responsibility. We believe in family, in blood."

  "But what about your work?" Jesse asked Mama.

  "I need a break. I'll go back when I can. Or maybe I won't. It seems the length of time and attention you should give your children might not be as short as one would think."

  "But everyone will know," I said, not meamng to have it sound as if I were complaining.

  "They'll know anyway. Some probably know already, considering Darlene Pearson's anger."

  "What will you tell the baby when he or she is old enough to ask questions?" I asked.

  "The truth, of course," Daddy said. "The last lie was told in this house months ago."

  "Are you sure you really want to do this?" Jesse asked. "It's all my fault."

  "It's not all your fault. Most of it, maybe, but what are you going to do about it, Jesse? Stop going to college? Take some menial job to pay for diapers and bottles? No, it's decided," Daddy added. "You return to college. You, Zipporah, return to school and, when you can, help out."

  "Okay," I said.

  "It's all right, Jesse," Mama told him. "I wouldn't do it if I didn't think it was right and if I didn't want to do it."

  He nodded. He was crying, but he sucked back his tears, rose, and walked out. We heard him go upstairs to his room.

  "We're going to be all right," Daddy told me. "We're going to take care of each other better from now on, too."

  I left them. I was probably just as numb, as stunned and afraid, as Jesse was, but there was nothing more to say about it. I sensed they had made an irrevocable decision. Their, firmness once they had made up their minds gave me pause and strength. It gave me hope as well. Maybe we would be all right.

  Of course, as I lay there thinking. I wondered about Karen now, lying alone in some institution where there were bars on the windows. What was she thinking? Did she hate me? Hate Jesse, too? Maybe she was talking to herself or to an imaginary person like me, talking about traveling.

  "When we get our licenses, we'll leave this hick town," she was saying. "We'll see America. We'll have adventures, so when we're older and stuck in some marriage, we won't regret it. We won't think we missed anything We'll take your convertible. We'll ride with the wind in our hair, and we'll think of nothing but tomorrow.

  "Will you do it? Will you come with me, Zipporah? Can we be together again and forever?"

  "Yes," I whispered in the darkness of my own room. "Nothing but tomorrow."

  Through my bedroom window, I saw the moon fool a cloud and slip free. It poured its golden light over the treetops like a promise.

  Karen was returning, I thought. She was returning in her child. Ironically, she wanted us to adopt her. In a real sense, we would. What had bonded us before hadn't weakened, after all. It had tightened and strengthened and wrapped itself around me.

  Around all of us, actually.

  And what that would mean for all of us lay cloaked in the mystery of the same darkness that made ancient peoples hug each other. Like them, I wondered if we would be safe, if we would ever be safe again.

  I could only wait to know.

 

 

 
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