The Secrets We Keep

by Nikki Lee Taylor

  “If this is about money, then tell me what it will take for you to leave us alone,” she pleads. “Just tell me what you want and it’s yours, but don’t hurt my children, please.”

  “It’s funny,” I say, “how a gun can change someone’s attitude so quickly.”

  She shrinks a little, her posture betraying her, and I know I am back in control.

  “Why are you here after all this time?” she asks. “Why now?”

  I think about the real reason I am here, and do my best to suppress a smile. If only she knew. “A long time ago, you took something from me. In fact, you took everything from me. The way I see it, it’s only fair you give something back.”

  “You want to take my daughter?” She steps back, her finger splayed out cross her heart. “That’s it. I’m calling the police.”

  She pulls her phone from her jeans pocket, but I know she’s bluffing. “Go ahead. Call. Maybe I’ll call them as well, tell them I know the whereabouts of a murderer. I’m sure your husband and kids will come visit you in prison.”

  As suspected, she lets out a breath, and lowers the phone. “You can’t take my daughter, you just can’t. I know everything that’s happened, but you’re not a monster. This is not who you are. So just tell me what I can give you to make this right.”

  “There’s no satisfaction in you giving me what I want,” I snap. “I’m going to take it from you. Only then will this be made right.”

  I start the car, and look her over one last time. “You were such a pretty child, Madelyn-May. I thought you’d grow into a beautiful woman. Looks like I was wrong.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Madelyn-May

  I have indisputable proof my children are in danger, but if I go to the police there will be questions, and background checks. I have been lucky until now, especially given my public profile. All those years ago, I was a teenager with long, ebony hair, pale skin, and limbs I hadn’t grown into. By the time I did my first media interview for Love, Mommy, I was thirty years old, with a woman’s body, and hair the color of champagne. Thanks to Bastian, I have been able to create a new life, one I never could have dreamed possible back in the trailer. A life with children and family. A life I can feel proud of. Calling the police would be the first tug, the first strand, of that life unraveling.

  Seeing my mother this afternoon felt like someone took a knife and hollowed out my chest. She looked so hard, compared to my memories. So bitter. When we were young, she was soft, and lovely, with gypsy skirts, and bracelets that jangled like wind chimes. She reminded me of a field of dandelions, delicate and fragile, likely to blow away on the slightest breeze. But not anymore.

  I am the one to blame. That much is true. I am responsible for my father’s death, for the fire, and for whatever happened after that. Everything she lost is because of me and now she wants to take my daughter. She knows I can’t call the police, and she’s already managed to infiltrate Harlow’s life. She knows where we live, what school they go to, and probably everything about us. She has a gun, and from the way she looked at me, so full of hate and anger, I know today will not be the end of it.

  With so much to hide, I’ve never formed any real relationships other than with Bastian, so there is no one I can turn to for help. I look at him sitting across the kitchen, and try to prepare myself for what I am about to say.

  “Harry, Harlow, can you go up to your rooms so I can talk to Dad, please?”

  He peers over the top of his reading glasses, and watches them to go. When they are safely out of sight, he shakes invisible creases from his newspaper, and turns to me. “Madelyn-May, I’m not in the mood to talk, so whatever it is, can we do it some other time?”

  For the first time in a long time, I look closely at my husband. The gentle slope of his cheekbones, and the brightness of his eyes. I admire the generosity of his bottom lip, full and plush, and think back to the way I used to catch it gently between my teeth just to tease him.

  “Madelyn-May, did you hear me? I said I don’t feel like—”

  “The kids are in danger, and I don’t know what to do.”

  He leans in, his eyes searching mine. “What did you just say?”

  I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Instead I hunch over, my body heaving as heavy sobs gasp and splutter their way across the room. Unabashedly, I cry, loud and ugly, as my body tries to purge its secrets out into the light.

  He puts down the paper, and strokes my hair. “Hey, come on now. Talk to me, Madelyn-May. Tell me what’s going on?”

  I wait for the lump in my throat to fall away. Despite what I have put him through, his eyes are soft, kind. He covers my hand with his, and it feels warm.

  “It’s my mother… She’s alive.”

  His chest rises and falls, slow and steady, a sign he’s trying to calm himself. “Alright. Well, I need you to tell me everything. No more secrets.”

  I start from the very beginning: the trailer back in Sonoma. As I explain my childhood, and what my father did to us, I watch his face closely, looking for any hint of disgust or shame. Seeing none, I move on to the afternoon of the fire, but when I reach the part that involves picking up the hammer, he holds his palm up, signaling for me to stop.

  “I’m doing my best here, Madelyn-May, and I’m not saying he didn’t deserve whatever comes next, but I’m going to need some time. This is an awful lot for anyone to take in, and I understand now why you never wanted to talk about your parents, but like I said… it’s a lot. For now, just tell me about the kids. How do they come into all this?”

  “I’ve been receiving anonymous threats for the past few weeks. I didn’t finish explaining the whole story about what happened back at the trailer park, but there was a fire. My sister and I lit it to cover up what we did. The threats began with an email asking how long I could hide the truth, then someone sent the box of matches you saw in my office. That’s when I realized that whoever it was knew about the fire. At first, I didn’t know it was my mother, but when Harlow and I went to the mall last weekend she must have been following us. She approached Harlow in the changing room and pretended to be from some fictional big sister project. She got Harlow’s phone number, and Bastian, she tried to pick her up her from school today.”

  His jaw clenches, and I can tell he is doing all he can not to explode. “She what?”

  “I saw the texts on Harlow’s cloud, so I went back to the school this afternoon at the time they were supposed to meet. She was there. She told me she wants to take Harlow to make up for what I did.”

  He pushes out from his seat, and paces back and forth across the kitchen. “And you’re just telling me this now?”

  “I didn’t know how… Bastian, please try to understand.”

  “So, she didn’t die when you were young?”

  “She was inside the trailer when it caught alight. At first, we thought she was dead, but then I heard her screaming. I tried to go back, honestly, I tried – that’s how I got this scar on my wrist,” I hold out my arm as though it might prove I’m not a monster. “But the fire was too big. I couldn’t get in. The emergency crews arrived a few minutes later. They must have pulled her out.”

  Bastian’s parents live on a leafy street in a two-story cottage, where the fridge is always full, and the gardens always manicured. They laugh, and hug, and cook, and love each other with the kind of loyalty and ferocity for which Italians are famous. I can only imagine what he must be thinking about my family – about me.

  “I don’t know what to do, Bastian. She’s so far ahead of us. She knows everything, even their schedule.”

  “Well, the first thing we need to do is call the police.”

  He reaches for his mobile, but I stop him. “We can’t. When they investigate, I’ll be charged with murder. I killed my father.”

  He throws up his arms, and walks in circles around the island bench. “Then what, Madelyn-May? We just wait around until she really does take Harlow?”

  “I’m sorry….�
�� I collapse onto one of the bench stools, my head in my hands. “I never meant for any of this to happen. It was another life. I honestly feel like it wasn’t even me who did it.”

  “Well, clearly she doesn’t share that view.”

  “Are you going to call them?”

  He leans against the bench, and rubs his forehead. “And send the mother of my children to prison for something she did when she was fifteen?”

  “Then, what?”

  “I have no idea.”

  I approach him cautiously, with the stealth and quiet of someone about to throw a towel over an injured bird. “I know this is a lot for you to take in, but I think we should get away from here. Let’s just take the kids and go, even for a few months. They’d be safe, and you and I – we can figure this out, and try to start over. You know the truth now, and if there’s any way you can try to understand what it was like for me, why I did it, then maybe we can try again. You and me, no secrets this time. What do you think?”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Sophie

  When Bastian finally comes over, I can tell right away he’s not himself. He kisses me absently on the cheek, then wanders into the kitchen, where he plants himself by the sink, and stares out the window.

  “Want to tell me what’s on your mind?”

  He doesn’t answer, and completely ignores Miss Molly’s attempts to get his attention.

  “Bastian, talk to me,” I try again. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

  He shakes his head, and refuses to look at me. “You can’t help.”

  “Well, you don’t know that until you tell me what’s going on.” I wait for him to respond, and my mind drifts back to Harry and Harlow. Their hair was just like mine.

  “I can’t tell you this, Sophie,” he says eventually. “I’m sorry.”

  The words stab at my heart. He’s never kept a secret from me, so why would he start now? Then again, I remind myself, who am I to judge? I have a pretty big secret of my own. “That’s not like you. It must be bad.”

  “It involves the kids.”

  Instantly, my skin prickles. If they’re in trouble, I want to know, but how can I get him to tell me without revealing too much? “Bastian, you know you can trust me. You always have. Let me help, even if it’s just by listening.”

  Eventually he turns, his arms folded tightly across his chest. “Someone’s been threatening Madelyn-May and the kids.”

  My hand flies up to my mouth. I have so many questions, but no sound comes out.

  “It’s to do with Madelyn-May’s past,” he continues. “Her mother, if you can believe it.”

  I immediately think back to the woman standing under the tree. “What do you mean, threatening them?”

  “She knows a secret about Madelyn-May’s past, and has been threatening to involve Harlow somehow. She tried to pick her up from school a few days ago. Madelyn-May thinks she was trying to take her. Maybe she’s just trying to scare us, I don’t know….”

  My mind is reeling. Madelyn-May’s mother knows about the egg donation. “And you know what the secret is? I mean… she… Madelyn-May told you?”

  “I can’t tell you any more, Soph. I’m having trouble coming to terms with all this myself, and to be honest, given the enormity of what she did, and what she’s kept from me, I really don’t know if I can. I agreed to go away as a family until this all blows over. I don’t want to,” he sighs, “but regardless of what she did, she’s still my wife, so I need to at least try and get past it. That’s what I came over to tell you.”

  I can’t make this about my feelings for Bastian. Like him, I need to focus on the kids and keeping them safe, but the thought of them away together as a family makes my chest feel empty. “Well, that might be just what you need,” I manage. “Some time away.”

  “Come off it, Soph,” he sighs. “First of all, save the act. Second, the last thing I feel like doing is going away with her. I told her it was fine, that I could deal with what she told me, but this whole thing just feels like a punch in the face. I don’t know who she is anymore. To do something like that and never tell me is….”

  “I understand. It must be very difficult.”

  “You couldn’t possibly understand this.”

  Then without meaning to, I think out loud: “But how could her mother know?”

  “What?”

  “Huh?”

  “You just said, ‘how could her mother know?’. Why would you say that?”

  “No reason,” I say too quickly. “Just that if her mother is crazy, then I can’t imagine why Madelyn-May would confide in her about anything, not to mention a secret. That’s all.”

  “Just… Look, Sophie, this doesn’t concern you, okay? So just leave it.” He pushes himself away from the sink, and fiddles with his keys. “Anyway, I better go. We’re leaving tomorrow. Fiji, then Tahiti. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I don’t have a great deal of choice right now.”

  “Yeah… of course. Fiji and Tahiti. Sounds awful.”

  “Look, I said I’m sorry, okay? What do you want me to do?”

  I ask myself the same question. What do I want him to do? Do I want him to leave her and be with me? Do I want the twins to call me Mom, instead of her? Or do I want him to walk out the door so I can dedicate the rest of my life to pretending this whole thing never happened?

  “Soph, did you hear me?”

  “I heard you,” I tell him. “Was that question rhetorical, or are you actually asking?”

  “Honestly? I don’t know. You know I can’t leave the kids, so….”

  “I know.” But what if you knew they were our kids?

  “I am sorry Soph. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  “I know that too.” And so am I.

  “The main thing is keeping the kids safe,” he says. “Who knows what this woman is thinking, and to be honest….”

  “…to be honest, what?”

  “It’s nothing, never mind.”

  “You might as well tell me now.”

  He rubs at the back of his neck, a sign all of this is weighing heavily on him. “The way Harlow let this woman in so easily. It’s a clear indication that she was longing for a woman in her life, someone she could talk to. Obviously, she’s not getting that from Madelyn-May.”

  Samara’s words echo in my mind: Being a parent also takes love, compassion, sacrifice, and a damned lot of patience, believe me, I know. But has she given them that, Sophie?

  “And you’ve called the police?”

  “I wanted to, but Madelyn-May wouldn’t hear of it. The secret is something that must stay a secret, I’m afraid. If the police were involved, it would get complicated, so she thinks it’s better if we go away for a while, instead. Let things calm down.”

  I think back to the woman standing outside Bastian’s house and the look in her eyes. “So, what happens when you get back from the trip? What if she’s still hanging around outside your house?”

  “Well, it’s my hope she loses interest by then, and… Wait, hanging around outside my house? Who said she was outside the house?”

  “What?”

  “Outside my house, that’s what you just said. Sophie, who said anything about her being outside the house?”

  My heart races. Stupid. Idiot. Just. Keep. Your. Big. Mouth. Shut. “Oh… No… It was just a figure of speech.”

  “Sophie…” He steps forward, the light gone from his eyes. “Don’t you mess with me right now. I know you inside out. You may not want to admit it, but it’s true. I know you, maybe not like your husband did, but enough to know when you’re lying.”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “Stop!” His anger bellows across the room, and Miss Molly immediately cowers at my feet. “These are my kids, for Christ’s sake, so if you know something, tell me. I’ve been lied to for the past seventeen years by my wife, and I deserve someone to tell me the goddamned truth, just for once. So, what’s it going to be, Sophie? A
re you going to be that person for me, or are you no better than her?”

  Anxiety finds its way in, and the room begins to spin. Deep breaths… In through the nose, out through the mouth.

  “Sophie!”

  “Okay, alright,” I concede. “The secret. I know what it is.”

  “What did you just say?”

  Slow and deep. Just breathe. “The woman, Madelyn-May’s mother,” I say. “She was outside your house last week. I know, because I saw her there.”

  His chest rises and falls, and he bites down hard on his lip.

  “I know you must have a lot of questions, but I only found out myself a couple of days ago, and I know I should’ve said something, and it was stupid to follow you, but I just wanted to see them. I was never going to let them find out, I promise, and—”

  “Stop rambling, Sophie, Jesus Christ! What are you talking about?”

  “What I just said… That I didn’t know, and obviously I should’ve handled things differently.”

  He paces back and forth, stopping only to fire off questions. “You were outside my house?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why were you outside my house?”

  “Bastian—”

  “And how could you possibly know Madelyn-May’s secret?”

  “If you’ll let me explain—”

  “Do you two know each other?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “What does that mean?”

  I stare at the ground, terrified of what’s unfolding around us.

  “Sophie!”

  “I met her once. In the park. It was a long time ago, obviously.”

  “That doesn’t explain how you could possibly know the secret she told me. Or why you were outside my house.”

  My heart races, and my stomach folds over. Tingles of anxiety creep along my wrists. “She didn’t do it to hurt you.”