Secret Lives

by Diane Chamberlain

  He held the clay fragment closer to the light and slipped on his glasses. “Thank you, honey, but that's not the way I want this site to survive.”

  “I understand. Let me know if you change your mind.” She stood up. “Ben's picking me up in a few minutes. We're going to Belhurst for the afternoon.” She waited for his response.

  “Have a good time,” he said.

  At the door of the springhouse she turned back to him. “Will you leave the next notebook out for me?”

  “Uh…” He leaned back again and turned to look at her. “Wouldn't you like a break from the journal for a few days? I read the next notebook this morning. It covers the semester we were at G.W. together and—”

  “At G.W.? What do you mean?”

  “Didn't you know Kate had one semester at George Washington University while I was there?”

  “No.” She hadn't known her mother had spent any time at all away from Lynch Hollow.

  “Her journal starts to get sketchy now because she was working on her stories much of the time. And this particular notebook, the one from G.W., is a little disturbing to read. At least it disturbed me to read it. And we're moving into the X-rated material. You sure you can handle it?”

  Eden laughed. “X-rated?”

  “It might shock you a bit.”

  “Kyle, I'm thirty-six years old. It's not going to shock me, and no, I do not want a break from the journal. If I had my way I'd read it straight through.”

  “Okay.” He turned back to his work. “I'll give it to you in the morning.”

  –21–

  She was waiting for him out on the road, sitting on the boulder that marked Kyle's driveway. Her hair was up again and she wore a blue blouse cut high on her shoulders and tucked into white shorts.

  She climbed into the passenger seat of his truck. “Hi.” She smiled.

  He wanted to touch her but locked his hands around the steering wheel instead. “Hi.” He pulled back onto the road. “Did you get your reading done?”

  “Uh huh.” She looked out the window as the road dipped and turned through the woods. “God, I love it here. I wish I could bottle this place and take it back with me.”

  “Maybe you need to visit Kyle and Lou more often.”

  “Maybe I do.”

  “You're in a good mood today.”

  “I guess I am.” She sounded surprised. “The screenplay really started to work this morning. I always feel good when something I'm excited about begins to come together.”

  “How's Lou doing today?”

  “She seems fine. Back at the easel this morning.” Eden played with the catch of her watch and then looked over at Ben. The tone of her voice changed, deepened. “What kind of problems has she had because of her leg over the years? Do you know?”

  Yes, he knew. Lou's disability had created one problem after another for them when they were in South America. But somehow he sensed Eden's need to be protected from all of that. “She's had fewer problems than you'd imagine. She does fine in that chair, ordinarily. A few times in Co-lombia we'd hit a restaurant or a hotel that wasn't set up for a wheelchair, but Kyle and I would lift it and it wasn't much of a problem.”

  “But Kyle couldn't possibly lift her now.”

  “Well, they're not traveling now either, so it's not really a problem. At one time she tried a prosthesis, but she got so frustrated with it that she gave up.”

  “I didn't know that. I guess there's a lot I don't know about her. Or Kyle.”

  “Once she had to be hospitalized,” he continued, not sure if he should. “We were in Ecuador then, I think. She had pressure sores, you know, from sitting too long in one spot? I guess she always has to put up with them, but they got infected that one time.” He glanced at Eden. She had turned her head away from him, but he could see one tear resting diamondlike on her lower lashes, and he knew he'd said too much. He reached down to wrap his hand around hers. “I'm sorry. You were in a good mood and I brought you down.”

  She shook her head, still not looking at him. “I asked the question. You only provided the answer.”

  He liked the connection he felt to her. He'd noticed it for the first time last night when Lou fell, when he recognized in Eden the same concern he felt. The same love. It had been a long time since he'd found himself on the same team with anyone. And he liked her unexpected neediness, the way it made him forget his own.

  “Lou's a proud person,” he said. “I think what bothers her more than anything else is being dependent, not being able to fend for herself the way she'd like to.”

  Eden sighed. “I just wish the accident had never happened. I wish I could change the past.”

  “Oh, yes,” he said. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  They reached Belhurst before noon and he parked the truck in front of the dollhouse shop. Once they were inside, Eden's mood lifted. The shop held room after room filled with dollhouses, some of them completed with paint and furnishings, others in the raw wood stage.

  “How old is your goddaughter?” Eden asked.

  “She'll be eight. I built her a dollhouse just like this one”—he indicated a tall, shingled Victorian—”when she was three, and every year since I buy her something for it.” Usually something expensive. This year would be different.

  “How did you come to be her godfather?”

  “Alex, her father, is my best friend. We went to school together—he was a student of Kyle's too. Then we both taught at the University of Maryland. We got married about the same time and he was my best man and I was his. His wife and Sharon are good friends.” It saddened him to recount the closeness that no longer existed. “I haven't seen much of him since the divorce. I guess that happens—people feel as though they have to pick sides.”

  “Wayne and I didn't have mutual friends to begin with. That was part of the problem, I suppose. We really had no shared life aside from Cassie.” She opened the arched door on a little Spanish-style ranch and peered inside. “Did you make a dollhouse for Bliss?”

  “Yes. I modeled it after our house. Does Cassie have one?”

  “Oh, a little one. Nothing so fancy.”

  He could make one for Cassie. Slow down, Ben. Besides, the kits cost a few hundred dollars.

  He had only enough money to buy a tiny bedroom set if he intended to treat Eden to lunch. He tried not to be obvious about it as he took the bills from his wallet and counted what was left, doing some disheartening subtraction in his head. The little bit Kyle was paying him was fine for a man on a tight budget, but it would not cover dating. He knew he could ask Kyle for a loan and have it granted without question. But he could hardly ask him to support a relationship he viewed as deceptive.

  Over lunch Eden told him how she'd like the movie to open. There would be a helicopter view of the Valley, following the Shenandoah for a while, then moving closer to Ferry Creek and the field by the site, finally dipping into the woods and smoothly slipping inside the entrance to the cave until the screen was completely black. Then the title and credits would appear on the black background. “Very dramatic,” she said. “All that green. And then the blackness of the cave.”

  “What's the title?”

  “A Solitary Life.”

  He nodded his approval. “That fits,” he said. “But Kyle won't let you in the cave.”

  “Mmm, I know.” She nodded, swallowed a mouthful of salad. “We can fake it. Then we cut back to the house—only, of course, not the way it is now. We'll build one to look like it did when Kate and Kyle grew up in it. Kate's in the elm tree, writing in her journal, terrified that she's in for a whipping because her mother found her dictionary.”

  “Did that really happen?”

  “Yes. Only Kyle said it was his and took the beating for her.”

  Ben laughed. “Christ. Figures. He started early rescuing people, didn't he?”

  Eden touched her napkin to her lips. “My mother gave me such a gift when she left this journal behind. I can practically write
from it scene by scene.”

  “When will you start filming?”

  “I'm aiming for next summer.”

  He felt the most horrendous jolt in his chest and set his fork on the table. He suddenly remembered that he had nothing to look forward to. Life would go on with him or without him, seasons would change with a deadening predictability. Next summer held no more promise for him than this summer. Possibly less. What could be worse than having no future? Maybe in January they would let him go before the court and beg to see Bliss and maybe if he humbled himself the right amount and maybe if Sam could dig up the most persuasive experts and maybe if Bliss still had any goddamned memory at all of who he was, he could…

  “Ben? Are you all right?” Eden had grabbed his hand, and when he looked at her he saw alarm in her eyes.

  “I'm okay.” His voice sounded as if he were speaking through a straw. He forced a cough. Took a swallow of water. “Something went down the wrong pipe,” he lied. Then he settled back in his chair again, dropping his hands to his lap to hide their trembling. “Tell me more about the film.”

  –22–

  November 20, 1945

  Today Kyle and I had a long talk that's left me as nervous as I've ever been. I didn't know it, but he has been getting information about colleges in Washington, D.C., and now he told me he plans to go in January and he wants me to go with him. He thinks we should study archaeology. I have never seen him as excited about anything as he's been over the arrowheads we've been digging up. He went to the library in Winchester to try to figure who might have made them and he thinks they are from some people who lived here maybe two thousand years ago or more! Matt and I find this very hard to believe. Kyle says we're going about digging things up too sloppily. There are holes all around the front of the cave now. We need to go to school to learn what we're doing. He says we'd need to have jobs, too, to be able to afford our classes.

  Well, first I tried to talk him out of this, but I could see he's been thinking about it a long time. Then Matt told me he's going away to school too, in North Carolina, to study journalism. I believe he and Kyle have been plotting. I sat on my mattress in the cave, crying and moaning, because this is a fix I can see no way out of. They sat next to me, one on either side, talking me into it. So I have agreed, although I cannot imagine being able to survive away from Lynch Hollow. But as scared as I am about going away, I am even more afraid of being apart from Kyle again.

  January 15, 1946

  Kyle and I each have a small room (right next door to each other) in what is called a townhouse in Georgetown, an area of Washington, D.C. Washington overwhelms me and I don't enjoy all the sights as Kyle does. Each time we venture out I am anxious to get back to my tiny little closet of a room, which Kyle calls my second cave.

  I am not having an easy time of this and I'm afraid to tell Kyle how bad it is for me. I suffer through my classes even though I love what I am learning. In my room I read and read and do the assignments, but in the classroom I cannot concentrate, cannot breathe. My heart beats so fast I lose track of the rhythm, and I pinch myself to keep from fainting. The inside of my arm has little red marks on it from my nails.

  I am taking a writing course and it is my favorite. I sit right next to the door and usually that helps me breathe better and pay attention. I have my typewriter here and my teacher thinks my writing is very neat and creative, but she says I still need to work on my sentences and punctuation.

  I'm working as a waitress in a little hotel restaurant down the street from here and it's a nightmare because I'm so nervous that I spill things. Last night I spilled a bowl of stew on a man and he says I burned him. I dread going back, but we need the money badly.

  Everyone makes fun of my accent so I talk even less than usual.

  March 6, 1946

  I quit my math class today because I was about to suffocate in there and I had to walk out. Mr. Sims followed me into the hall and asked me where I thought I was going and I told him I was sick and would be back tomorrow, but I won't be. It's not going to be any better tomorrow than it was today. I can't tell Kyle.

  April 7, 1946

  I made the mistake of letting Kyle talk me into going to a party with him last night. He goes to lots of them and I usually stay in my room and write or study, but last night I finally said I would go. I'm sure that's the last party he'll ever hound me into going to.

  It was at the house of a girl in one of our classes, Julia. She is very wealthy and I've never seen a mansion like the one she lives in.

  Things here are just as they were in high school, with everyone loving Kyle. When Julia invited me, she told me that Kyle is “so charming,” and I am certain she invited me only because I am his sister. I wore my one good dress, which Susanna forced on me when I left Lynch Hollow and which I despise. I feel like a pig trussed for the spit when I get dressed up in that miserable garter belt and stockings and all. Kyle thinks garter belts are sexy (his favorite word these days). He also thinks Julia is sexy and was looking forward to this party.

  I didn't realize it was a dinner party until we got there. If I'd known, I never would have agreed to go. There was a long, long table set with china and crystal glasses and little cards with names on them by each plate. About thirty people were there, some students from our anthropology class and some other students I didn't know and a couple of professors. Kyle's favorite professor, Dr. Latterly, was there. Kyle's little name tag was between Dr. Latterly and Julia, so he took his seat looking like he'd died and gone to heaven.

  My name tag was between two students I didn't know from Adam, a girl with bug-eyes and a boy with freckles and red hair slicked down on his head with what smelled like cough tonic. The second I sat down I started having trouble breathing. My hands shook and sweat was running down my back. I could feel it soaking into my dress (which is now in the trash, good riddance). I sat there sweating and shaking while everyone ate some cold white soup I didn't touch, and a salad full of some yellow vegetable I couldn't even look at. Then I thought for sure I was going to faint so I started pinching on my arm out of habit, not even realizing I was doing it. Suddenly the bug-eyed girl cried out, “What are you doing??!!” so loud that everyone turned to look at me. The girl was staring at my arm and when I looked down I could see little red pinch marks all over my white skin. A couple of times I'd drawn blood and not even felt it.

  The whole table seemed to have gone quiet, everyone looking at me. I lowered my arm. “I have a little poison ivy,” I said, quietly as I could and working hard at pronouncing my words the way they did. For an awful minute no one said anything and I looked over at Kyle. He was frowning at me and I tried to tell him with my eyes how desperate I was to get out of there but he turned back to Dr. Latterly and resumed talking again.

  Everyone was talking except me and my eyes started filling up and I pinched my arm harder—I had to—to try to keep the tears back. Then the maid or whatever she is put a plate in front of me that had a big slab of bloody red meat on it and that finished me. My breathing raced up, my heart beat like it was sure to explode. I reached for my water glass and knocked it over and everyone was looking at me again and then the tears just spilled all over my face and I stood up to try to get away from the table. But the chairs were so close together I couldn't budge. The freckled boy had to push his chair out and the girl next to him had to push hers out and I nearly started to retch. Everyone was staring at me with their mouths wide open and I heard Kyle excuse himself from the table as I ran out of the room. I got out the front door before he caught up to me. He was furious. When he talked, it was through gritted teeth, and real slow.

  “What…the…hell…is…the…matter with you?”

  “I'm sorry, Kyle.” I was crying so much now I could hardly talk. “I'm sick. I can't stay in there. I'll wait out here for you."

  “You can't wait out here.”

  “I can't go back in there either.”

  “I should have just let you stay home and rot in your go
ddamned room.”

  I grabbed his arm. I hate worse than anything when Kyle's mad at me. “I'm sorry.”

  “Wait here.” His teeth were still gritted together like someone poured cement in his mouth.

  I stood outside the open front door and could hear him inside talking to Julia, saying he had to leave, he was so sorry and how ill I was, etcetera. And before he stepped outside I heard Julia say, “Tell your sister I hope she feels better,” and he answered, “She's not actually my sister. Just my cousin.”

  It makes me cry all over again to write those words. He pushed out the front door like a bull looking for something to charge and he didn't say a word to me, just walked ahead of me the entire two miles to our townhouse. I had to practically run to keep up with him and after a while I stopped trying to say I was sorry because it was obvious he wanted nothing to do with me. Once I actually did have to stop to vomit and he didn't even slow his pace. When we got back here he walked into his room and slammed the door behind him. I came in here and thought about writing it all down in my journal but I just didn't have the spirit. I fell asleep missing Lynch Hollow.

  This morning he went on to breakfast and class without stopping in for me. I can't go to class today. Even if I could breathe in those classrooms, I can't face the other students who were at the party last night. So here I am, in my second cave, longing for my first.

  April 8, 1946

  It's midnight and I can't sleep, so I'll write. After dinner tonight Kyle finally came to my room. He brought me a chicken sandwich he made from some of his food at dinner. I was sitting on my bed reading our anthropology textbook. “Are you all right?” he asked me, his first kind words in a while.

  “Guess that's the last party you're taking me to,” I said.

  “It's not funny, Kate.” Kyle sat down on the end of my bed. “Mr. Sims told me you never go to his class anymore. Then I checked around. Latterly's is the only class you go to, isn't it?”