Miller's Secret

by Tess Thompson

  Timmy took a cigarette from the package next to his whiskey, then offered one to Miller. He took it and leaned forward for Timmy to light the end for him, then inhaled deep into his chest.

  “You need her taken care of?” Timmy lit his own cigarette.

  “I need it to look like an accident.”

  Timmy looked at him with those ice blue eyes, blowing smoke rings. “Obviously.”

  “I don’t want her to suffer.”

  “We’ll make sure she doesn’t.” He sipped his drink. “You sure this is what you want to do?”

  The condensation from his beer had made a ring on the table. There were others, too. Hundreds of them all over the table. How many people had sat here over the years? Had they all been here to see Timmy? To have a problem erased? He swiped his finger down the glass, then placed it on his forehead. “You ever feel like we never had a chance? You know, like no one ever gave a shit about us. We figured we’d take the best we could get.”

  “No one did give a shit about us.” Timmy laughed and picked up his cigarette, waving it like a conductor with his baton. “I got this bar by the skin of my teeth. Just like you, man. We’re scrappy. No silver spoons in our fucking mouths, you know. We gotta make things happen for ourselves because no one else will.”

  “See, that’s what I’ve been thinking, too. Why shouldn’t I get what I want? It’s not like the Bennetts with everything handed to them, right?” Like he did when he spent time with Timmy, he slipped back into the way he used to talk. The drink gave him a new sense of boldness. “I ever tell you how I came up with the plan to marry fat Caroline?”

  “No, I don’t believe so.” Timmy waved to the bartender for another round. “I always figured it was a happy coincidence you ran into her down there at the soda shop. You’re handsome, you bastard. It didn’t surprise me you got her to fall in love with you.”

  The bartender delivered another couple whiskeys to the table. Miller, enjoying himself now, drank from it with a greedy thirst. “I had a plan for a long time. You remember how we always used to get those Christmas presents from Santa.”

  “Sure, yeah. We used to write letters every year, right?”

  “That’s right. Well, it turns out it was the Bennetts. They were Santa. The year I was twelve, which would’ve made you ten, I was awake when they delivered the presents on Christmas Eve. Caroline and her father, all dressed up in furs, delivering those gifts to us poor orphans. She was a fat thing. Looked like a white seal in her fur coat and hat. I stood up there on that railing and watched them, and it’s hard to explain, but I hated the bastards. Then, later that year we were at the park, and I saw them again, and I thought to myself, I’m gonna make that girl mine, get that life for myself.”

  “You telling me you had a plan since you were twelve?”

  “Yep, that’s what I’m telling you. And I did it. Followed them in the newspaper, got a job where I knew I’d see her, then turned on the old Miller charm. She was still fat when I caught up to her. Then she went off to some camp or something and came back skinny. I thought I might lose her then to one of her rich cronies on the account I was figuring on her being fat, you know, so she’d feel like she couldn’t get anyone else. But damn if she didn’t fall in love with me. Seriously, it was easy. Even her folks, which I figured would be only too happy to get rid of me, were fine. It was like they all thought she was still fat.”

  “You always did have a way with the ladies. Even the nuns, when they weren’t beating the crap out of you with one of those rulers.” Timmy laughed, stubbing out his cigarette.

  “Sister Theresa always had it out for me. One time she looked me straight in the eye and said she saw the devil.” He chuckled, taking the last drag of his cigarette. “She was the meanest woman alive.”

  “Yeah, one time she left me in that hallway closet all night long. I was only six.” Timmy shivered. “Can’t stand small spaces to this day.”

  “I was in there more than once. It was usually my big mouth got me in trouble. One time I dared question the existence of God. I thought Sister Theresa’s head was going to spin around and fly off her body. What did you do to get in there?”

  “Stole an extra breakfast roll one morning.” Timmy patted his stomach. “I was a hungry kid, what can I say? They didn’t feed us enough to keep even the little girls from feeling half-starved.” He paused to take a sip of his drink. “I never did anything ever again to get that punishment. Still have nightmares over it.”

  Miller didn’t say anything for a moment, before looking up at his old friend. “Yeah, so the way I figure it, life owes us whatever we want now. The world rejected us. We don’t have to play by the rules.” He swirled the whiskey around his glass. “You know you’re the only person I ever tell the truth to? The rest of the time I’m an actor. I could be in the movies. I’m that good.”

  “We gotta do what we gotta do,” said Timmy. “Can’t blame you for that. You were always the smartest kid around, always figuring out how to get away with shit before the rest of us could get the fuzz out of our navels.”

  “Nah, that’s you.” Miller waved his hand to indicate the bar. “Look what you’ve done here. You made a life for yourself.”

  “I live well. I do.”

  Miller, feeling a little tight, watched a fly scoot along the window. “You sure you can make it look like an accident?”

  “It’s not a problem. My man does this kind of thing all the time. You’d be surprised how many people have someone in their life they want dead.”

  “That right?”

  “Yeah. Tell me, is there anything she does every day? Anything we could count on that’s a habit or something.”

  “Almost every day she takes a walk along the coastline by her parents’ beach house at nine in the morning. It’s above the water, you know, like a cliff. She walks to this one point that kind of juts out and always stops there to look at the view before she heads back. There are tall grasses that someone could crouch in and be hidden. One shove and she’d be over the edge. It’s rocky. No one could survive it.”

  “Good.” Timmy tapped the ashtray. The fiery tip fell and turned to ash. “We’ll make it look like she slipped and fell. You want us to do it soon?”

  “Yeah. Next day or two would be best. I’ll pay whatever.”

  “He’ll want cash,” said Timmy. “A thousand bucks.”

  “Yeah, fine. I got another problem, too. His name’s Henry Sayer.” He explained the situation to Timmy. “He’s only got one arm. Easy target. You think your guy could make it look like an accident? I don’t know Sayer’s habits or whatnot, but he has a shop in town there.”

  “My man can figure out the best way,” said Timmy. “When do you want it done?”

  “A day or two after Caroline.”

  “You got it.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Caroline

  SHE SPENT HALF THE NIGHT CRYING, silent sobs so as not to wake the children or her parents, until she fell into a dreamless sleep as dawn broke. It was after eight when she wakened to the familiar nausea, fled to the toilet, and vomited. Afterward, she ran a bath, as hot as she could stand it, and crawled into the water, wrapping her arms around bent knees, and sobbed. The same questions came, again and again. How could Miller have done this to her, to the children? And this girl? Who was she? What right had she to take a woman’s husband? The children? Were they his? How long had this been going on? After thirty minutes, shivering, she got out of the bath. The pain was worse than any physical pain. One moment she wanted to scream and break something, the next she was crying again and thinking, no it cannot be true. Just as soon as that idea came, she moved to the next. Seb hadn’t imagined this. He was a smart boy. Her husband had a mistress and a pregnant wife. She hated him.

  At her vanity, she stared at her reflection, thinking she looked a hundred years old. Puffy eyes. Blotched skin. Tangled hair. She fixed her hair and tried to even out her face with foundation and lipstick, adding blush, but it all
made her look ghoulish. She must stop crying and find Father and Mother. Seb was right. They could help her sort it all out. She needed a plan. Her parents would know what to do. They always did.

  Father was in the dining room lingering over coffee and the newspaper. As soon as she entered, he set it aside, an expression of concern on his face. “Sweetheart, you look exhausted.”

  She sat opposite him, and touched the raw areas under her eyes with the tips of her fingers, fighting tears. “I didn’t sleep much.”

  “Poor girl,” he said.

  “Where are the children?” she asked.

  “Frederick took them into town for some shopping and lunch. Your mother said you needed some peace this morning.”

  Mother came into the dining room, a stack of mail in her hands. “Oh, darling, you’re up. Are you feeling any better?” She sat at the table next to Caroline, setting aside the letters. “Did you sleep?”

  “Not much.” She put her face in her hands and took in a deep breath before looking at them both in turn. “I’ve something to discuss with you.” She choked and started to cry.

  “What the hell has happened? Is it one of the children? Are they ill?” asked Father.

  “You’re scaring us.” Mother sat at the table.

  Father looked younger since his retirement. Tall and athletic, his skin tanned from the California sun, he was as handsome as he’d ever been. What she was about to say would break his heart. She knew it, and yet, it had to be done.

  “It’s Miller,” said Caroline.

  Father’s eyes, sharp, fixed upon her. “What about him?”

  Mother, at the same time in a high-pitched, frightened voice said, “Miller?”

  Speaking succinctly, she managed to keep from crying as she told her parents what Seb had seen, finishing as Margaret entered with a bowl of breakfast rolls. She took one look at Caroline and immediately started making her a cup of tea. “Here you are, Miss Caroline. This’ll settle your stomach.”

  Caroline saw Margaret and Mother exchange glances and knew that Margaret had heard the majority of her story. The sympathy on her face was almost too much to bear. “Try a roll, too.”

  “Thank you, Margaret,” said Caroline.

  Margaret excused herself and left the room. No one spoke for a moment. Caroline took a sip of tea.

  “I need to know if it’s true,” said Caroline.

  “Yes, we need to know if it’s true.” Father rolled the newspaper into a cylinder, then smacked it against the side of the table. “But it can’t be. Not Miller. He’s been very loyal to this family. To you.”

  “How do you know he’s been loyal to Caroline?” asked Mother. “Men cheat on their wives all the time. Why should he be any different?”

  “I don’t know,” said Father.

  “I think it’s true.” The tears started, stinging the raw area under eyes. “He’s been more distant than usual. One time I suspected I smelled perfume on his jacket. I dismissed it all, pretended like I was imagining things. But a woman knows, I think. I know he’s with her right now. It’s not work that has him away from us.”

  “That bastard,” said Mother. “That goddamn bastard.”

  Both Caroline and her father looked at Mother in shock. Caroline couldn’t remember ever hearing her mother curse.

  “I’ll hire someone. A private detective. Have him followed,” said Father. “Whatever it takes.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary. If anyone knows the truth, it’s Joseph. He drives him everywhere. He’ll know.” She sipped from her coffee, then set it aside when her stomach turned. “I spent all night thinking about this. If there’s another woman—it’s not a fling. It’s an obsession, like everything is with him. If there is someone, he loves her, which means he has her somewhere. An apartment or something. We need Joseph to tell us where he’s stashed her.”

  “It’s not like Joseph to betray a confidence. He’s loyal to Miller,” said Father.

  “Everyone has a price. You taught me that, Daddy.”

  Father grimaced. “Right.”

  “Seb said a little boy and a girl about Audrey’s age were with them.” She broke down once again, sobbing into her hands, until she felt her father’s arm around her shoulders.

  “My darling girl,” said Father

  Wiping under eyes, she took in a deep breath. “They might be his children.”

  “How old was the little boy?” Mother, having risen, paced back and forth in front of the bay window. Pink roses pressed against the glass, like peering faces.

  “Seb guessed two or three,” said Caroline.

  Father’s reading glasses had slipped down to the end of his nose. He took them off, dangling them in one hand and rubbing his eyes with the other. “Another entire family? It cannot be.”

  “It’s entirely possible. He’s gone so much,” said Caroline.

  Mother faced the window, her shoulders hunched. “He’s charming and handsome and intelligent. He always says the right thing at the right time.” She turned to them. “He’s been gracious about the successor decision, but every once in a while, when he thinks no one’s observing him, I catch a glimmer of something else. Something almost sinister.”

  “Mother? What do you mean?” asked Caroline.

  “It bothers me, as you two know, that he chooses to spend most of his time away from his family. The children understand he has no interest in them, but that’s not unusual. There are many fathers like him. Perhaps more like him than like Edmund. Beyond that, though, there’s this sense I have sometimes that he’s playing a part.”

  “Mother, what’re you saying? That you think he married me for the money? That he never loved me?” The pain was unbearable. She got up from the table, wringing her hands, wanting to throw the china against the wall. All of it, every piece.

  Mother was beside her, taking her into her arms. Caroline crumpled into them, sobbing into her shoulder. “My whole life’s been a lie.”

  “You have the children. And us, my love. We will be here no matter what happens next.” Mother led her over the settee by the window. “Sit for a moment.”

  Caroline obeyed. Mother sat next to her, and Father came to sit on the other side. They each took one of her hands. “It’s going to be all right,” said Father. “We’ll find a new path.”

  “What should I do, Daddy?”

  “Divorce him,” he said. “You’re protected financially. I made sure of that when you married him. Everything is mine. The house you live in. The cars. If he’s not married to you, these will no longer be available to him. But first, I’ll call your house in the city and see if I can get Joseph on the phone.”

  After her father left them alone, Mother turned to her. “What can I do?” she asked.

  “There’s nothing to be done for me. We have to think of the children first and foremost. There’s Seb. He’s beside himself. And the other two will be confused and hurt. He’s their father no matter what he’s done to me,” said Caroline.

  “What he’s done to you is what he’s done to them,” said Mother. “Don’t you ever doubt that for a minute. He chose this woman over his family.”

  “He may have another family, Mother. I have to prepare myself for that.”

  “He won’t ever see this one again, I can assure you,” said Mother. “It’ll be over my dead body if he ever sets foot in our home again.”

  Caroline rose from the settee and turned to look at the view. “Mother, I could kill him.”

  “I understand, dearest, but there’s no reason to go to prison over this piece of trash.”

  **

  An hour later, Father joined her in the sitting room. He came to stand next to her chair, his expression grave.

  “Just say it.”

  “You were right. He has her stashed somewhere. A beach cottage about seventy-five miles down the coast from the city. Stowaway. I was there once, years ago. Small town.”

  “What does Joseph know about her?”

  “She’s t
wenty years old. Used to work at one of the factories as a seamstress. She has a little boy, but he’s not Miller’s.”

  “How does he know?”

  “She came with him. Born out of wedlock, he’s assuming, although Miller hasn’t said anything to him about their relationship or her. Joseph drives her places. Brings her supplies.” He withdrew a slip of paper from his shirt pocket. “He gave me the address.”

  “What about the girl Audrey’s age?” asked Caroline.

  “It’s her younger sister. Just arrived from the Midwest. Their parents were killed in an accident.”

  “How much did it cost you to get the truth out of him?” she asked.

  “Not a thing. And he quit. Said he’s leaving and won’t be back,” he said. “He told me to convey how sorry he is for his part in Miller’s secret.”

  She’d held out hope that Seb had misconstrued something, that their family was what she believed it was. She couldn’t deny it any longer. The truth was clear. He loved someone else. He had her stashed at the seaside. “Twenty years old? She’s practically Seb’s age.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He sat in the chair across from her, his arms dangling between his legs. Never had she seen him at a loss. It occurred to her that this was not only a betrayal to her but to all of them, most especially her father, who had given Miller opportunity. “I’ll call Ernie. Get the divorce proceedings started. In the meantime, I’ll hire someone to go out there, take some pictures of the two of them together. We can prove adultery. I’ll ruin the son of a bitch.”

  “What do I say to the children?” she asked.

  “The truth. It’ll come out eventually.”

  “They’ll never want to see him again,” said Caroline.

  “Good, because I have every intention of making sure they never do.”

  “Is that the right thing?” she asked. “For them, not us?”

  “I believe it is, but you’re their mother. You should decide, not me,” said Father. “Either way, we don’t have to make any rash decisions, I suppose. I need to keep myself in check, which feels impossible.”