The Devil and Danna Webster

by Jacqueline Seewald

  I looked further and saw some photos of my stepfather and mother. His hair was cut short in the military style. He looked so tall and proud in his uniform. It made me shiver to realize how much he had changed since then.

  Finally, there was Lori, no longer a baby but a teenager like me. She wore her hair very long and straight. She was dressed in faded jeans, denim work shirt and a fringed leather vest. She was smiling and waving at the camera. There was something very familiar about her face, although I had never seen her picture before.

  I closed the album and put it back. As I did, I caught sight of something else. It looked like a book, actually a diary. The letter "L" had been written on the front in what appeared to be black marker. Did I have the right to look inside? Why not? Lori was long dead, so it didn't really matter, did it?

  The stuff she’d written was boring at the beginning, about school and friends, just like any other kid's life. It could have been my life, in fact. Then I started getting into it. Lori dreamed about being a writer someday and talked about taking creative writing in school. She said she was waiting for a special boy to come into her life. She wrote about all the romantic novels she loved. I remembered what my mother had said about Lori. I could tell she was a great romantic. Could my mom have been that way too before life forced her to change?

  I began to wonder about Lori. Why had she died so young? Was there anything in her diary that would tell me? It was a mystery that I wanted to solve. I started glancing through the end of the book, but as I did, I heard noises downstairs. Quickly, I put everything back where I had found it, except for the diary. I put that on an old bureau and quickly went downstairs.

  “What were you doing up in the attic?" my stepfather demanded.

  "Just looking around for a Halloween costume to wear to a dance."

  "Did you find anything?"

  "Nothing," I replied.

  "Ask your mother tonight. Maybe she can help you." He sounded irritated. What was bothering him?

  I excused myself to start my homework. There never was much for my stepfather and me to say to each other.

  That evening, I asked my mother about costumes.

  "I could make something if you like."

  "No, you have too much to do already. I'll think of something."

  "There's the old bridal gown in the attic. You'll probably want a new one when the time comes. That one was my mother's and then I wore it too."

  "I couldn't take that," I told her. "It wouldn't be right. It’s too fine to be used as a costume."

  My mother furrowed her brow, her dark brown eyes as warm as toast. "Well, things were made to be used. I don't think it'll be used again. Why don't we look it over this weekend and decide?"

  I kissed my mother's cheek.

  "You're always so generous to me."

  "Not as much as I'd like to be," she said with a weary sigh.

  ****

  Caron was especially friendly in school that week. She asked me to join her at lunch. Since Joyce and I were barely speaking, I agreed. At first, I felt uncomfortable, but Caron went out of her way to make me feel welcome. She told her friends what a talented artist I was, how I’d done a portrait of her, and how I was going to help with posters for the class dance. Caron was class secretary. Every girl who sat with her was popular. That would show Joyce that I didn't need her, I decided with satisfaction.

  Friday, I stayed late to work on posters in the art room. I turned out seven in less than an hour and a half and figured that would take care of my commitment to Caron.Kevin stopped by as I was near finishing.

  "How did you know I'd be here?" I asked him.

  "Because you're always here. These are really nice. Too good for the kids in this school. They'll probably write graffiti all over them."

  "What a pessimist!"

  He grinned. "I thought you already knew that about me. I don’t have a very high opinion of human nature."

  “How sad to see in one so young.” I offered a dramatic sigh.

  Kevin laughed. “I’ll let you try to convert me.”

  I cleaned up and locked the door to the art room. Then Kevin took me to Sal's for pizza. It had become a Friday tradition for us. I told him I hadn't yet figured out what to wear to the dance.

  "Good," he said, "maybe you'll change your mind and see that it isn't worth the trouble."

  "I still love dressing up for Halloween," I said. "Maybe I'm just a kid at heart."

  Kevin leaned over and kissed me, a quick, playful peck.

  Saturday morning, bright and early, Mom and I went up to the attic. I had forgotten to lock the trunk and Mom looked at me questioningly.

  "I was up here looking through things on Monday."

  She looked upset. “You shouldn’t go up here by yourself.”

  It was so frustrating. Why, I wanted to ask!

  We pulled out the bridal gown, examining the pale satin skirt and the finely embroidered bodice.

  "What do you think?" Mom asked.

  I shook my head. "It's much too good for the dance. I’d hate for it to get messed up. I'll have to think of something else. Got any era-type clothes? You know, stuff from the sixties or the seventies maybe?"

  "We gave most of the old stuff away to charity years ago."

  "Never mind," I said, "I'll think of something."

  My mother found the key on the peg and locked the old trunk again. I noticed that she put it in her apron pocket.

  "Let me just look around here a little more, okay? I’ll be careful."

  "You won't find anything, but go ahead," she said.

  After my mother went downstairs, I went to the old bureau, picked up Lori's diary and started reading it again.

  Half-way through, it got interesting. Lori described how she'd met this boy at the beach. He was older than her. She was sixteen and he was eighteen. She fell in love with him right away and he felt the same way about her. She wrote how strong their feelings were for each other. It was romantic stuff.

  I turned more pages. She described writing stories for English class. Lori told about how she’d become a woman on her seventeenth birthday. I skipped ahead. Somehow that seemed kind of private.

  Now Lori wrote how miserable she was. Her boyfriend had gone away, joined the army and left her. I moved forward again, glancing through her comments for something more about her love life.

  “Dear Diary,

  He hasn’t written back to me in such a long time. I’ve been so upset. I thought it was because of what I wrote to him, but it wasn’t. He says we will get married as soon as he returns from his tour of duty. I hope it’s true. My life is over if we can’t be together.”

  There were a bunch of blank pages, then some shaky handwriting. “I will never see Danny again. I can’t bear it! I can't cope with life anymore.” More skipped pages. Then a final entry: “I was missing so much school, feeling sick. I finally dropped out. Mom is heartbroken. Sis is disappointed in me. I’m lonely for my friends. I don’t know how long I can go on this way.” What made her drop out? I decided to look back at what I skipped over.

  "What are you doing?" My mother had returned. I tried to put the diary behind my back.

  "Nothing," I replied in a guilty voice.

  "What have you got there?"

  It was no use. I sucked at lying. "It's Lori's diary. I was just looking at it. I found it in the trunk."

  My mother sank down on an old chair. "I was afraid someday you would. I should have thrown the thing out years ago, but somehow I couldn't. All her talk of being a writer, and this was the only piece of writing she left. How could I throw it away?"

  "No, you shouldn't! Mom, how did Lori die?"

  "I don't want to talk about it.”

  I knelt down beside her. "Why can't you talk about her? Why are there always secrets in this house? It bothers me a lot. I'm not a little kid anymore. Treat me like an adult."

  "Why should I talk about something that's painful to me?"

  "Was she in some kind o
f accident?"

  My mother shook her head. “No accident,” she said.

  “Was she sick? Did she have a fatal illness?”

  “No.” My mother’s eyes wouldn’t meet mine.

  A lump formed in my throat. "She killed herself, didn't she?" My mother still wouldn't look me in the eye.

  "Yes," she finally answered.

  I was horrified. "Why?"

  "Because she was very unhappy."

  "But why was she unhappy?"

  "What difference does that make now?" Mom sounded angry.

  "Should I phone Uncle Craig and ask him?"

  "Don’t you dare! Why is it so important for you to know?"

  "I don't know. It just is! Why did Lori take her life? Why is it some terrible secret?"

  My mother sighed. She looked up and I saw there were tears in her eyes. "Our Lori was a foolish, romantic girl, in love with love. It was the fault of those silly books she read. They gave her a false idea of what love is all about. It isn't always kisses and hugs, flowers and music, or fancy dates to New York."

  I knew the last remark was aimed at me, but I ignored it.

  "Some people turn dreams into reality. Lori took reality and turned it into dreams." Mom placed my hand in her own and held it tight. "She met a boy and they fell in love. The next year, he went off to the army.”

  “But why should she kill herself over that?" I asked, feeling deep inside that it was important for me to know.

  My mother looked away again. "She was such a romantic."

  "Mom, that doesn't explain anything! And why did she drop out of school?" Suddenly, it dawned on me. Maybe Kevin was right, I was too much of an innocent after all. "Oh no! She was pregnant, wasn't she?"

  My mother didn't look at me. "She got carried away with that boy, so in love with him. She didn't stop to think, to use her head at all. A smart girl, but no common sense. But then, I suppose, common sense is really not so common. He left her. Went off to the army, got himself killed. It broke her heart."

  "Did she have the baby?" Mother didn't answer. I prodded her on. "Mom, did she have the baby? Please tell me."

  "Yes, and it was all too much for her. She was a child trying to care for a child of her own, and she simply wasn't ready for it. She was emotionally fragile. She couldn't cope with the responsibility or the loneliness. Of course, my mother and I tried to help her. But I worked and your grandma was ill by then. Anyway, Lori was deeply depressed."

  "So she killed herself?"

  My mother nodded.

  “How?”

  “Does that matter?”

  “Yes.”

  "She drowned herself in the ocean. Now you see why we didn't want to talk to you about it? It's such a sad story, such a terrible waste of a young life!"

  Something suddenly occurred to me. "What about the baby, Lori's baby?"

  My mother wouldn't answer.

  A terrible idea crossed my mind. I had to be wrong. "Mother, please tell me what happened to Lori's baby."

  Tears ran down her face. She shook her head.

  Chapter Eleven

  “She didn't kill the baby too?"

  My mother's eyes opened wide as if she were in shock. "Oh, no," she hastened to say. "Nothing like that! We took care of the baby."

  "Then I don't understand? Where is Lori's baby?"

  My mother turned away again.

  "Mother, what happened to her child?"

  "The baby was adopted."

  "Who adopted the baby?"

  She hesitated, biting down on her lower lip. Her eyes would not meet mine. My heart started racing.

  "Please, tell me! Who adopted Lori's baby?"

  My mother took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. "We did."

  "You did?" I repeated, totally uncomprehending.

  "Yes, you were that baby."

  "I was that baby," I parroted.

  We sat in complete silence for several moments while what she said sunk in.

  "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

  "I'm telling you now," she said in an oddly flat voice.

  "No, I forced you. It's different."

  "You weren't ready to know about Lori. You were too young. We had to protect you for your own good."

  "You should at least have told me I was adopted. I had a right to know. Were you ever going to tell me?"

  She didn't answer, but I thought I knew what the answer was anyway. "So you're not really my mother, just like he's not my father."

  She turned and faced me then, this woman I had called mother since I could speak or remember. "Of course I'm your mother! Who cared for you since you were an infant? Who sat up at night and worried when you were sick? And who has always been there to love you!" She started to cry. I'd never seen her cry before, not even when Grandma died.

  "Tell me about Lori," I said in a wavering voice. There was a hard lump in my throat and I could barely swallow. "Was she anything like me?"

  "She looked a lot like you. Or should I say, you look a lot like her? Lori was special. A sweet, pretty girl, gentle and loving, very sensitive."

  "And my father?"

  "He was just a young boy. Wanted to be an architect, I believe. I guess you got your eyes from him. They were gray-green like yours."

  "What was his name?”

  “Daniel Webster. It’s on your birth certificate. Lori wanted you to have his name. That’s why she called you Danna, for him.”

  “Where does his family live?"

  "Honey, they don't know you exist.”

  Tears rained down my cheeks. "How can you be sure of that?"

  "I know," she said with an air of finality. "Some things are best forgotten." She reached out to me.

  “This is very hard for me to accept. Where is his family?”

  “They were from somewhere in New England originally. After their son’s death, they moved back there.”

  “How could you not tell me?”

  "I love you. You are my daughter. I couldn't love you more if I'd given birth to you myself."

  I wanted to go to her, to reach out and tell her that it was all right, but I couldn't do it. I just couldn't. I was too hurt, too confused.

  “My English teacher asked if I were any relation to Daniel Webster, the famous political orator.”

  “I believe Lori’s Daniel did claim some distant kinship. Is that important?”

  "I'm going out for a while. I want to do some sketching at the beach." I didn't wait for her to reply. I left her sitting there and ran downstairs.

  The rest of the day passed in a blur. I can't say what I did. It was as if I no longer knew myself. Who was I anyway? I was a stranger in a strange land.

  My parents weren’t really my parents. I guess that explained a lot, but not enough, not nearly enough! I walked along the beach for a very long time until it got cold and I was shaking with chill. Then I returned to the house because I didn't know where else to go. The phone was ringing when I came in. I called out that I would answer it.

  Kevin was at the other end. "What would you like to do, angel. I haven't made any special plans. See, I’m trying to respect your opinion. Like the new me?"

  "Anything we do will be all right. I don't care. You decide."

  "Want to go into the city?"

  "I think I'm too tired today."

  "Sure, let me see if I can find a good movie."

  "Sounds fine."

  After I hung up the phone, I saw that my stepfather had wheeled himself into the living room.

  "Where's Mom?" I asked. The word Mom now hung on my tongue.

  "She went over to the store. Took a few extra hours. She was very upset."

  "So am I. How could you not tell me the truth all these years?"

  He eyed me steadily. "Your mother and I agreed it was the right thing to do.

  "To lie, to deceive me about my birth? I had a right to know."

  He refused to answer and abruptly changed the subject. "Where are you going tonight?" he asked without an
y trace of emotion.

  "To a movie with Kevin."

  "You see too much of that boy."

  "Not really."

  "Just watch out for him."

  "Why? So I won't end up like Lori?"

  "Yes, as a matter of fact."

  I looked into his brooding face. "I don't exactly know who I am, but I'm not Lori."

  "She put your mother and grandmother through misery and she destroyed her own life along the way. I don't want history repeating itself."

  "You don't trust me at all, do you?"

  "Don’t accuse me. It isn't true."

  "Sure it is. I'm not your daughter and you don't really even like me. You've always had a low opinion of me. Well, I'll do what I think is right."

  “Shall I’ll tell you about your real father? He was a private, just a young, green recruit. He got blown to smithereens. I paid the sympathy call to his parents and to your family as well because I knew he loved Lori. I was his sergeant. I felt responsible for him. He was a good kid. That was when I met Lori and her big sister, Sue. I fell for Sue. She was the best thing that ever happened to me. We were married before I went back for my next tour of duty, before Lori died. Sue and your grandmother pitched in and raised you. When I came home, and then became crippled, Sue took care of me too. Never once complained. She loved me and loved you. She’s a terrific woman, a fine wife and mother. Yeah, I’m a little bitter about how my life turned out, but I’m coping the best way I can. Life isn’t always easy, kid. Deal with it!”

  I went to my room and didn't come out until Kevin arrived. He was in an odd mood. He seemed preoccupied, as if he were worried about something. I was sure that once we were alone I would tell him everything. I knew that he would be sympathetic. Yet, when we were finally in his car, I just couldn't talk about what had happened. The pain was too great. The disillusionment was too raw and too new.