Secrets, Lies & Love

by Roseanne Dowell

  Chapter Seventeen

  Thank goodness Patrick gave her the day off. With the electrician and plumber working today, she needed to be here. The tower room was taking more energy than she even imagined. Fortunately, she didn't need this space immediately. Hopefully, Walter would have the electricity restored soon. Working without lights wasn't the easiest thing to do. She stood and stretched. You'd think her back would be used to all this bending and stretching, but not so. Between unpacking books and working here, her back hurt so badly when she got into bed at night, she wanted to cry. Time for a break. Maybe Walter could tell her when he'd have the lights back on.

  A noise from her aunt's room startled her. What the heck?

  "What are you doing?" Meghan came into her aunt's room. Walter barely looked up, but he moved away from her aunt's dresser. Meghan shoved the drawer closed.

  A slight breath on her neck caused her to turn. She came face to face with Walter. Nose to nose. He brought his hand to her face and rubbed his finger across her mouth.

  "You always were a hot piece. But cold as ice from what I heard. I bet I could melt you."

  The smirk on his face repulsed her almost as much as his touch. His breath smelled like stale cigarettes and alcohol. She pulled away. He was a creep in school, and he was still a creep. What other women saw in him was beyond her. But a lot of girls wanted him. A lot of them had him, from what she remembered. She cringed as he brought his hand to her hair and leaned into her, pulling her head closer to his. His lips coming just inches from her face.

  "You arrogant bastard!" Before she had time to think about it, her hand made contact with his face. Horrified, she pulled back, yet she wasn't sorry. Instead she felt a strange sense of what – relief? Peace? No. Satisfaction. He deserved it. Hell, he deserved it a long time ago. Smug, self-centered, egotistical bastard. Thought he was God's gift to women. Show him a thing or two. Still she couldn't believe she actually slapped him. She almost laughed at the stunned look on his face. Someone should have done that a long time ago and damn if she'd apologize. She stood there, defying him, waiting for his tirade of abuse.

  Instead he backed up, turned and walked away without a backward glance. Good riddance to him. Of course she'd have to find another electrician, but that was the least of her problems. For now he was gone – but she knew Walter – he'd be back to taunt her. He never gave up on anything. She couldn't believe he left without a fight now. Oh, well, she'd worry about that later.

  She had work to do, and now that included finding another electrician. Maybe Patrick knew someone else. Patrick. They still hadn't had that talk. Either Olivia or someone else was around or work interfered. Seemed like every time they sat down, the phone rang or a parent came in. With only ten days until school started, the days were going to be even busier with teachers returning. Evenings, she spent working on the house and Payton had moved back in with Patrick after her surgery. The most Patrick had been able to tell her was that it wasn't what she thought.

  Whatever that meant?

  Of course the gossip mongers spread the rumor that Patrick and Payton were getting back together. Olivia didn't help ease Meghan's mind. The conversation she overheard between the girl and Hilda Richardson at the grocery store yesterday unsettled her more.

  "Hello, Olivia, don't you look pretty?" Hilda said.

  "Thank you, Mrs. Richardson. My mommy fixed my hair."

  "Well, she did a wonderful job. I heard your mommy was back. Is she going to stay?"

  "Mommy said her and Daddy have to talk about it. She broke her leg and can't walk. A nurse helps her."

  "Yes, I heard that too. Well, you have a good day." Hilda left, and the smirk on her face made Meghan cringe.

  To avoid Olivia and Mildred, Meghan turned down another aisle. If Patrick and Payton got back together, far be it from her to intrude. Maybe she'd finish restoring the house and sell it. Living across the street from them, let alone working for Patrick didn't excite her. Seeing them together would kill her. No, she couldn't handle that.

  Meghan pushed the thoughts from her mind and went back to the tower room. Darn it, Walter hadn't turned the electricity back on. Maybe the plumber knew someone. "Tom," Meghan called as she went down the basement.

  "What can I do for you, Ms Shelby?" Tom crawled out from under the hot water tank.

  "Walter Anderson left and didn't turn the power back on. Do you know another electrician?"

  "Walt quit?"

  "I guess you could say that. I really need lights." Meghan didn't feel like explaining. "Do you know someone?"

  "Sure, there's Elmer Barker. He's semi-retired, but he can help you out in a pinch."

  "Great, do you have his number?"

  "No, just call Sam Benson, he'll have it."

  "Thanks." Meghan hurried upstairs to call Sam. Hopefully, Elmer could come soon.

  After making the call, Meghan decided to break for lunch while she waited for Elmer. It didn't take him long to get there and even less time to restore her electricity. After a short conversation, Elmer agreed to take over the job, and she went back to the tower room.

  With the closet finally clean, Meghan opened the trunk. She'd been dying to get in there ever since she was a child. Of course, the trunk had been off limits. It looked like an ordinary trunk, but in her child's imagination, she pictured all kinds of treasures. She opened it slowly, relishing the fact that it was hers now. Whatever was inside was hers to keep or discard. What she was hoping to find was beyond her. Maybe a treasure from her childhood imagination.

  Inside were several old dresses from the Victorian period, her favorite era. Pulling one out, she stood and held it up in front of her, swaying to imaginary music. What fun it would have been to live in that time. Sighing, she folded the dress and set it aside. A jewelry box sat nestled in the corner. Aunt Beth's jewelry box. Why was it in here? It always sat on her aunt's dresser.

  Rubbing her hand across the mahogany box brought back memories. How often had Aunt Beth allowed her to play with the jewelry? Even now, she remembered everything inside - a string of pearls, two sets of diamond earrings, two watches, one for casual wear and one for dressing up, and an emerald ring. Aunt Beth let her play with everything but the ring.

  Meghan opened the lid. Aunt Beth's antique locket lay on top. She picked up the heart shaped pendant and turned it over in her hand. God, she loved this necklace. Aunt Beth never took it off. Her hands trembled when she opened it and looked at one of the pictures. On one side her baby picture she'd seen a million times, but on the other side a man's face stared at her. A man so familiar, she swore she'd met him. But when? Where? No, that wasn't possible, she'd have remembered a man this handsome. Still, something about his eyes held her spellbound. Meghan looked in the mirror. Those were her eyes. The same shape, the same smoky dark green. Who was this man? Obviously someone important for Aunt Beth to have a picture of him. Why hadn't she ever seen this picture before? Maybe because Aunt Beth always held her finger over that side when she opened it. Why?

  First the baseball cap and card, then the bowling shirt, now this picture. Was this Steven? And why did she look so much like him? Meghan sat back on her heels and stared at the picture. A shiver ran up her spine. If only she'd had time to pay Aunt Clara a visit. Meghan snapped the locket closed, put it back in the box and set the jewelry box back in the trunk. What else was in here? Sorting through a pile of dresses, corsets and gloves, Meghan sighed. Did this stuff belong to her great grandmother? At the bottom of the chest, Meghan found a leather book.

  Opening it, the handwriting jolted her. Aunt Beth's diary. The first entry dated 13, June 1984. Meghan caught her breath.

  Steven asked me out today. I know my parents don't approve of him. He's too much of a rebel in their eyes, but they're wrong. Just because he quit school doesn't make him bad. So he rides a motorcycle and drinks beer that still doesn't make him bad. He's well over twenty-one certainly old enough to drink. If they'd only give him a chance to prove himself. The who
le town is against him, ever since he was a teen and got into trouble. He served his time in the juvenile detention center. What more do they want from him? But it left its mark. Now every time something happens they go after him. So far they haven't proved a thing against him. The gas station break-in, jewelry store robbery, none of these things was Steven. Good thing he had solid alibis. They even tried to blame him when Rita disappeared. Turns out she ran off with a salesman. Poor Steven gets blamed for everything. He's an auto mechanic. What's wrong with that? I'm almost thirty years old. I know they say I'm slow, and I didn't finish high school, but that doesn't mean I don't have feelings. They've kept me sheltered too long. It's time to live my own life. I'm going to meet Steven no matter what my parents say. Hopefully, they won't find out.

  So Aunt Beth did have a secret boyfriend. Did her grandparents ever find out? Did Mom know about this? Sure Mom was four years older than Aunt Beth and married, but maybe her aunt confided in her sister. Most sisters confide in each other. Nineteen eighty-four, good grief, Aunt Beth was thirty years old. Surely, she was allowed to date if she wanted. Everyone said Aunt Beth was slow, but Meghan never saw that. Aunt Beth was a warm, loving woman and so much fun. Okay, maybe she did act like a child when she sat and played dolls, so did Meghan's mother and grandmother.

  Someone called from downstairs. Meghan closed the book and put it back in the trunk, but couldn't wait to read more. Maybe the diary would help solve the mystery of why her parents never came back.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Patrick answered the phone and half wished he hadn't given Meghan the day off. It had been a constant stream of parents coming in and calling all day. Thank goodness a couple of the teachers had arrived and fielded some of the phone calls. You'd think school started tomorrow with all the questions.

  Fortunately, it was four o'clock and time to go home. Not that he liked that idea any more than being here. Not with Payton there. How Mildred handled it all day even with the nurse Payton hired was beyond him. As soon as the nursing home had a bed available she was gone, like it or not. Problem was Olivia was growing more and more attached. Even bedridden, Payton fixed the girl's hair every morning and helped pick out her clothes. Poor Mildred's opinion didn't count for anything. Not to mention Olivia was constantly on him about Payton staying. Just like Payton to put her up to it.

  * * *

  Arriving home, he was no more than out of the car and Olivia flew into his arms. "Hi, peanut. Did you have a good day?"

  "Guess what, Daddy? Mrs. Tupper said preschool is having a parent's day next week. I asked Mommy and she said if we helped her to the car, she could come with us, but we have to get her a wheelchair. Can we, Daddy? Can we?"

  Patrick caught his breath. Damn Payton. He told her not to make false promises to Olivia. That nursing home couldn't get a bed soon enough. "Whoa, hold on a minute." Patrick adjusted his hold on Olivia so she didn't slide down and kissed her cheek. "We'll have to see. Let's go in the house and see what this is all about."

  Patrick set Olivia down, grabbed his briefcase from the back seat and followed her inside. How the hell was he going to get out of this? He definitely needed to have a talk with Mildred. She shouldn't have told Olivia about the open house. He picked up the mail and scanned through it. The invitation sat right on top. No wonder Olivia knew about it. The colorful postcard screamed for attention. Olivia loved to get the mail. More than likely, she asked Mildred what it said. He couldn't fault his housekeeper for telling her. So now, how to deal with it?

  "I'm going to tell Mommy maybe she can come." Olivia raced up the stairs.

  Patrick shook his head. "Afternoon, Mildred. How was your day?"

  "I'm sorry, Patrick. If I had any idea she was going to tell her mother, I'd never have read it to her."

  "I know it's not your fault. I swear if that nursing home doesn't call soon, I'm going to throw that woman out on the street. I don't like the ideas she's planting in Olivia's head."

  "The child spends almost her whole day up there. I do everything in my power to distract her, but not much works. She doesn't even like to go shopping anymore."

  "Something needs to change around here." Patrick grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and took a long swig. "God, that's good. Another scorcher today isn't it?"

  "Thank God for air-conditioning. I went out this morning and watered the flowers and even at nine o'clock it was sweltering. It's so hot I hate to let Olivia outside. Not that she wants to play outside anyway. She hardly leaves Payton's room."

  "I know. I'll talk to Mrs. Kincaid and Mrs. Taggart and see if we can arrange a few play dates and maybe sleepovers with Jill and Lily. I have to divert her attention from Payton."

  "Good! Dinner's almost ready. Are you hungry?" Mildred removed a lid, and a heavenly combination of scents wafted from the pot.

  "Smells like beef stew. I'm famished. Let me wash up and I'll set the table." Patrick headed toward the bathroom. Olivia came rushing full blast and plowed into him.

  "Olivia, how many times do I have to tell you to slow down?"

  "I'm sorry, Daddy. Can we have dinner with Mommy tonight? She's tired of eating alone."

  Patrick shook his head. Damn Payton. She'd stop at nothing to get her way. She'd only been here a couple of days and already, she was making demands. "Not tonight. Mrs. Tupper has dinner ready. Go get washed up and come to the kitchen."

  Olivia stomped her foot. "But I want to eat with Mommy. It's not fair she has to eat alone. She didn't get hurt on purpose. She hates staying in bed."

  "Olivia Jean Marie MacShaunessy, if you stomp your foot and talk back to me one more time, you'll be eating dinner by yourself in your own room." What came over the child? She never talked back. She was picking up Payton's attitude, and he didn't like it.

  Olivia crossed her arms over her chest. "Fine, I'll eat in my room."

  That did it. "Fine, go to your room and don't come down until you're ready to apologize."

  Olivia stomped off, her bottom lip protruding in a pout. She seldom pouted. What came over her all of a sudden? He followed her upstairs to make sure she went to her own room. Just as he suspected, he caught her going into Payton's room.

  "Daddy's being mean." He heard her say.

  "Olivia, go to your room now." He stood in the doorway and avoided Payton's look.

  "What did she do, Patrick?"

  Olivia stomped past him and slammed her bedroom door.

  "That's none of your concern." He turned to leave.

  "Of course it's my concern. I'm her mother. What did she do that you sent her to her room. She's just a child."

  "May I remind you she's a child you left and didn't care about for four years?"

  "But I'm here now." Payton stuck her bottom lip out the same way Olivia had.

  "Unfortunately." Patrick left and closed her door. The last thing he needed was Payton telling him how to raise his child. He went to Olivia's room and turned the knob. Damn it, she locked it.

  "Olivia, open this door right now."

  Nothing, not a sound came from the room. That did it. He had to get rid of Payton, the sooner the better. He hurried downstairs and picked up the phone.

  "Mom, I need a favor," he said when she answered.

  "Sure, Patrick, anything."

  "I need you to keep Payton until they have a bed for her."

  "Oh, Patrick, hold on a minute. When you said you needed a favor, I had no idea it involved Payton. We don't even speak to each other."

  "You don't have to talk to her, just let her stay in the guest room for a while. She hired someone to help her. They won't bother you."

  "What brought this on?"

  "I have to get her away from Olivia." Patrick ran his hand through his hair. Olivia was going to have a fit, but she'd get over it. This temper tantrum was the last draw.

  "Did you call the nursing home to see if they'd have room for her soon?"

  "No. They'll call me."

  "I think you should call them first. I
don't mind telling you, I'm not crazy about this idea. I haven't talked to Payton since she left. I don't particularly want to start now."

  "Okay, let me call them. I'll call you right back."

  Patrick hung up and glanced at Mildred, who stood watching him. "I have to get rid of her. I should never have agreed to let her come here."

  Mildred nodded and went back to the kitchen.

  After a brief conversation with the Director of Human Resources, Patrick called his mother back. "It's taken care of. They'll have a bed tomorrow. Can you take Olivia for the day? I'm going to try to arrange a sleepover at Jill's or Lily's. She's not going to be happy with me." Relief washed over him. At least Payton would be out of his house.

  "Of course I'll take Olivia for the day. I don't envy you dealing with her. I couldn't help but notice how much influence Payton had on her last time I saw her."

  "Thanks, Mom. I'll drop her off on my way to work. I see the influence, too. That's why I asked you to take Payton. I have to get her out of my house, away from Olivia."

  "You know you can't stop Olivia from seeing Payton, don't you, Patrick?"

  "I know, but it'll be under my terms. I could refuse, you know, she gave me that right."

  "Oh, Patrick, you wouldn't do that to Olivia," his mother said.

  Patrick sighed. "Much as I'd like to, no, I wouldn't. But from now on it's going to be supervised visits. No more leaving Olivia alone with Payton. I have to go. I'll talk to you later."

  After he hung up, Patrick took a plate of food up to Olivia. He found her in Payton's room, sharing dinner. The nurse sat in the corner, reading. Patrick literally saw red. His eyes blurred and various shades of red spiraled in circles before him. A cramp wrenched his stomach and his head pounded like someone put it in a vice. "I told you to stay in your room."

  "Oh, Patrick, ease up. She's a child for heaven sake. Don't tell me you always listened to your parents. Besides, I'm her mother, and I'm allowing her out of her room."

  "I told you before. This is none of your concern. Olivia, go to your room and do not lock the door. I'll deal with you in a minute."