Secret Lives

by Diane Chamberlain

  “Hello, Sara Jane,” I said. “I've come to visit your new baby.” I held out the flowers and she took them from my arms and stepped aside to let me in, all without saying a word to me.

  Tommy Miller was sitting at the table in the little dining part of their living room and he said “hi” to me, and “thanks for coming.”

  Then Sara Jane said it was way too soon for anyone to visit the baby—she was only three days old and there were germs she might catch. But Tommy said, “Oh, let her see her. Have a seat there, Miss.” He called me 'Miss' and I figured he didn't remember who I was.

  I sat down on the sofa and Sara Jane disappeared in another room and came out holding the tiniest little baby I've ever seen, wrapped up in a pink blanket. She put her in my arms, and I learned something about myself right then. I want to be a mother. I want to have a baby of my own.

  Ellie Miller is adorable beyond words. First she was asleep and looked like an angel with her pretty face and a little bit of peach fuzz on her head. Sara Jane had given her to me wrapped up so I couldn't see her arms, but I was determined. If I was going to spend all my sleeping hours dreaming about this baby, I wanted to get it right. So I tugged the blanket away with Sara Jane standing above me, breathing like a steam engine. Ellie has little hands where her arms should be. Tiny, precious little hands. I know this baby was put together wrong, but somehow I couldn't see it just then. She seemed beautiful to me, like maybe it's all the rest of us who are not formed right. I had a hard time giving her back to Sara Jane, who still had said next to nothing to me. I thought of what it would be like for her when she started taking little Ellie out, when people would stare and talk behind her back, and my heart nearly broke for her. For Sara Jane! When I was about to leave I said to her, “People can be mean, Sara Jane. Just you don't listen to them. Ellie is beautiful and you and I both know it.” She still said nothing to me. She probably fainted once I left, not sure what to make of Kate Swift talking kindly to her.

  Kyle was mad when I got home. He says you just don't do that sort of thing—barge into someone's house when there's a brand new baby—even if it's a healthy baby that everybody's excited about showing off. I told him there's never been a time in my life when I've cared about what was proper or improper and I wasn't about to start caring now.

  October 5, 1947

  I visited Ellie again today. Why am I so drawn to her? I still dream about her. The doctor told Sara Jane that Ellie will be “backward.” Slow to talk and walk, he means, and slow to learn things. She'll probably never be able to read and write and that, in my opinion, is the cruelest blow.

  “But she can still imagine,” I said to Sara Jane.

  “What does that mean?” Sara Jane all but barked at me. She still doesn't care much for me.

  I tried to explain how being able to dream things up is the most important thing in the world, more important than having arms or being able to add two plus two. I thought I was sounding poetic, but Sara Jane looked at me like she used to in grammar school—like I was too weird to be believed.

  October 25, 1947

  Kyle is home for the weekend and it is too rainy to dig and too rainy to bicycle over to see Ellie, so I begged him to take me over to Sara Jane's in the car and he finally agreed. I think he had some curiosity himself about the baby.

  Sara Jane got all flustered at finding Kyle Swift on her doorstep and it made me giggle inside to see it. I went directly over to the bassinet where Ellie was sleeping and took her out to sit with on the sofa. Meanwhile, Sara Jane and Kyle sat down and tried to think of things to say to each other and I saw right away that Sara Jane still loves him. I recognize the feeling in her clearly—it's the only thing she and I have in common. I watched her watching him. She was thinking how different her life would be now if she'd been true to him, waited for him. She was thinking she could have married him, instead of ending up with a baker who stuffs her with cake and keeps her so fat she can barely get up out of a chair. She was thinking how if she'd stayed with Kyle she might have a child now that was whole, a child no other children would snicker at on the street. She looked at Kyle with such longing. When he moved, when he stood up to come sit next to me and have a look at Ellie, I could see her remembering what it was like to make love to him and I could see more than anything the regret in her eyes.

  And what do I see in Kyle's eyes for her? It's not pity, and that surprises me. It's more like compassion. I can see he still cares about her, not as a girlfriend, but as a human being. Despite how she hurt him, despite how, at twenty, she's let herself fall apart, he still cares, which pretty much sums up the kind of person my brother is.

  While Kyle and Sara Jane chit-chatted, I had my own little talk with Ellie. I can prop her up on my lap and she looks at me, though her eyes wander off after a minute or two. I played with her, with her tiny perfect hands, but what I longed to do was cuddle her. I wanted to hold her close to my breast. I'm so envious of Sara Jane for being able to nurse her. I got misty-eyed, sitting there, thinking of how I'll most likely never have a baby of my own. I can't imagine getting close enough to a man to allow that to happen. I thought I've been hiding this longing well, joking when Susanna and Daddy talk about me ever getting married or having a family. But Kyle knows. I should have guessed he would. He seems to know the world inside my head. After we left Sara Jane's and were driving back to Lynch Hollow in the pouring rain, he said, “You want a child of your own.”

  I was startled by the matter-of-fact way he said it, without even taking his eyes off the road to look at me. I said, “I'll never have one of my own.”

  “Matt would be right pleased to provide you with one,” he said.

  “I haven't seen it rain this hard in years,” I said, and that was that.

  September 10, 1948

  I have amazing news, but first I have to update this journal a bit. I can't believe it's been almost a year since I've written in it! I used to keep it under my pillow, write in it day and night. Today I had trouble even finding this notebook.

  Ellie Miller is now a year old. She is a very quiet child and still doesn't walk, but she has a smile that lights up your heart. I have only seen her a few times this year, when I go to the bakery with Susanna. I stopped visiting her because Susanna had heard from Priscilla Cates that my visits made Sara Jane nervous. Sara Jane can't relax around me, Priscilla said. I have no interest in upsetting Sara Jane, so I stopped coming to see Ellie and in a way I think that's good. Every time I saw her I wanted a baby and the feeling was turning into a painful one. So I've spent this year putting all my energy into writing and archaeology.

  Our digs have grown around us. Kyle has been home from school all summer and we have two pits dug in front of the cavern. We've unearthed arrowheads and pottery that date back three thousand years and we have gotten very organized in cataloging them. Much of the day, I am torn between the careful, painstaking work of chipping away at the earth, dusting the years off the old pieces, and writing my stories. I switch from one activity to the other easily and I feel sorry for Kyle with just one interest to consume him. But he seems quite content as well. He has found his calling.

  I've thought a great deal about Rosie, the little skeleton in the maze room. We have never gone back to look at her again and we have no way of knowing when she lived and died. But thinking about her gave me the idea of writing a story about a child who lived in the times we're studying from the digs. The story turned out very well. In July, Matt had to go to a meeting in New York, and he took my story with him to read on the train. Here is the great news: when he returned, he presented me with a check for one hundred dollars! He'd sold my story to a publisher, Waverly Books, and next year it will appear as an actual book, illustrated by someone at the publishing house. And they want more! Matt, who had this plan up his sleeve for several months, said they are ecstatic about my work. But they want the stories to be longer and more detailed, so that is what I'm working on now and what absorbs my thoughts much of the time.
/>   July 10, 1949

  Kyle graduated last month and he's already talking about going back to school because he wants to get a doctoral degree. I guess I have been hoping he would just settle himself down here now that he's done with school, but I have to face up to the fact that he's never going to settle here. Our digs have a hold on him, but he has too much wanderlust to stay for long. He promises to come home on weekends while he's going to school, so I am not too distressed.

  I sold five more books this year and occasionally I write an article for the Coolbrook Chronicle, Matt's paper. No one thought a paper would ever make a go of it in Coolbrook since it's so small, but everyone reads the Chronicle now.

  Yesterday, Matt was in the cave with me, reading while I typed and he finally looked up and said, “You and I might as well get married. We're together most of the time anyway.

  I took the cotton out of my ears and said, “What did you say?” even though I'd heard him very well.

  He said we wouldn't have to make love if I didn't want to, that he'd be content just being with me.

  “What about all your fancy dinner parties and meetings and such? I could never go with you, you know.” I wanted him to see how ridiculous his idea was.

  “I don't care. You could stay here. I'd go by myself. I'd just like to be able to sleep with you at night.”

  When he said that I felt a funny little rise in me, like I'd like that too. I don't want to marry him and I don't want to make love to him—it would confuse things between us too much—but I like the idea of sleeping next to him the night through. I could slip him into my bedroom after Daddy and Susanna were asleep and just feel the warmth of him all night long. I think he probably could sleep with me without touching me. He's never tried since that time in Georgetown, although a few times he's kissed me on the cheek. I think Matt's still a virgin.

  July 12, 1949

  I told Kyle what Matt said about wanting to sleep with me and Kyle said I should do it if I want to but I shouldn't expect him not to touch me. I said I thought Matt was a virgin and Kyle laughed. “Get your head out of the sand, Kate,” he said. He told me that Matt has two sides to him. There's the soft, gentle side he shows to me and to most of the girls he goes out with. And then there's his “animal side” Kyle called it, and this he shows to a few select girls. There is one in Luray, Kyle said, another in Strasburg.

  I was shocked. “Matt?” I said. “Matt Riley?”

  Kyle said, “It's you he really wants. He gets all steamed up around you and he has to have someplace he can let it out.”

  I can't look at Matt quite the same way now. He sits in here—as a matter of fact, he's here right now—reading, with those big innocent brown eyes that are not so innocent after all. I will not be sleeping with him anytime soon, but I'm glad to know this about him. I used to feel guilty, like I was depriving him of something. Now I find he's been getting that something all along.

  October 29, 1949

  Kyle has been home every weekend since school started. He is driven. He's interested Dr. Latterly—who he calls “Stan” now—in his “backyard dig.” He got Dr. Latterly to come down here to visit Lynch Hollow and a more comical scene I'd never witnessed. It was a Saturday two weeks ago, and Kyle and the professor came to the cave. This man did not know what to make of a woman typing with cotton in her ears and a gentleman (Matt) reclined, reading, and smoking a pipe on the settee. Kyle and Matt and I treated it all as normal. Dr. Latterly was a little shaken, I think, but he was impressed with what Kyle and I have done here, so now he's gearing his work with Kyle to our specific needs.

  Easter Sunday, 1950

  Matt brought the woman he is seeing to Easter dinner. He has been dating quite a few lately, and making no secret of it to me. Trying to get me jealous, I suppose, and it's not working. Matt is viewed as one of the most alluring young men around, as is Kyle, although Kyle is not here enough to take advantage of that status. Kyle says he's not even dating much at school, which I find hard to believe, but he is very caught up in his professional pursuits these days, so I guess it's possible.

  Matt's lady friend, Delores, is thoroughly in love with him. I was fascinated, watching her watch him. She tried to anticipate his every desire. It was revolting. I know Matt doesn't return her love and adoration. I wonder if she knows about the hussy he sees in Luray? A few months ago I told him I knew about his sordid little side interests. He was at first mad at Kyle for telling me and then pleased, I think, that he could speak more openly with me about the women in his life. Our friendship is the best it's ever been. I know he would like more from me, and I know it is his caring about me that prevents him from getting serious with anyone else, but I've told him we will never be more than friends. I believe he's finally come to accept that.

  November 10, 1951

  Yesterday my tenth book was published and Kyle and Matt and I drank champagne in the cavern until we were punchy. I felt warm and satisfied and I started talking, saying way too much. I said what a lucky person I was to have four loves in my life when many women must settle for one, or less.

  Kyle and Matt set down their glasses to listen to me and I began ticking off my four loves. “My writing,” I said. “The digs. My brother.” Kyle held his glass up to me in a salute. “And my cavern.”

  Well, I was quite satisfied with my little speech and we finished the bottle and it wasn't until the buzz of the champagne started to wear thin and we could feel the chill settle into the air of the cave that I realized Matt had not spoken. There was hurt in his eyes and I nearly vomited when I realized why: I had left him out. How could I have been so mean? It would not have hurt me to say I had five loves and included him. I do love him as my dear friend, but the truth is that it never occurred to me to name him, and it was certainly too late to add him on as an afterthought.

  “It's cold in here,” he said finally, standing up. “I'm going home.”

  “Not yet,” said Kyle. I could tell from his face that he also knew what was bothering Matt. “We can all sit in the house for a while.”

  I should have said something then. Oh yes, Matt, come sit in the house with us. But instead I got down on the ice cold floor and began picking up the scattered pages from the story I was working on.

  “I have an early day tomorrow,” Matt said from behind me. I heard his footsteps on the floor of the cave and then silence as he entered the forest.

  I couldn't move from my place on the floor. I stared at the pages resting there, thinking of how hurtful I could be without even trying. Then Kyle knelt next to me. “Come on, Katie,” he said. “Let's go in the house.”

  “I didn't mean to hurt him,” I said. I think I was crying. Kyle smoothed my hair behind my ear. “I know. He'll be all right.”

  “I should have thought before I spoke.”

  “Shh.” Kyle sat on the ground behind me and hugged me into his arms. He told me he'd talk to Matt for me tomorrow, tell him how bad I felt, how it was an oversight, nothing more. He kept talking like that, his breath sweet with champagne, but after a while I stopped listening. My back was against his chest, his cheek soft on my hair. Cold as it was, I could have sat like that all night.

  So today Matt informed me that he is now engaged to Delores Winthrop. He told me this by note, because he is so much like me, best able to express himself on paper. He wrote,

  Dearest Kate,

  I have been foolishly hiding from the truth. For so long I have kidded myself into thinking that you love me, or at least had the potential to love me. It is something I wished for so desperately, you cannot know. I admire you so—your beauty, your spirit and ambition. I could easily put up with your “unusual” ways. I am charmed by them.

  I can't be angry with you because you have never tried to deceive me about your feelings. The idea of you loving me has been my own fabrication and you can't be held responsible for what occurs in my tormented imagination. Last night as you described your four loves and I was not among them, I knew I must finally aband
on my hope of having my love returned. Therefore I have proposed marriage to Delores. She is clearly my second choice, although I trust you will never tell her that.

  I am nearly twenty-six and need to settle down. I truly hope, Kate, that you find someone who can unleash the loving woman I know is within you. I am sorry to have failed in that task.

  All my love, Matt

  I wept as I read his note, but I know this is best for him. I will miss his company so much. I am certain he will never bring Delores to visit the cave with him. I could see her looking down her nose at the suggestion, but she will make a fine wife for him.

  There will come a day when Kyle will also want to marry. I hope she will be someone I can tolerate, not a silly girl like Sara Jane or a holier-than-thou sort like Julia from Georgetown. I'm not going to be jealous. She may share his home and his bed but she can never steal from me the life-long closeness I've had with him.

  December 12, 1951

  Kyle is to be Matt's best man and Delores's sister Vanessa will be her maid of honor. Matt is being swept quickly into their plans and every evening he comes to tell us more. He seems to have no control over what's happening to him. The wedding is planned for January 5th. I am less enthusiastic now about his getting married because I can see he's not happy about it. He looks like a man being sucked into quicksand. I want to speak—or perhaps write—to him about this. I want to tell him not to allow himself to be trapped in this way, but I know it is hardly my place and it would be very unfair of me.

  December 23, 1951

  Matt broke off his engagement to Delores. He came to the cavern last night and spoke very frankly with Kyle and me.