The Secrets We Keep

by Nikki Lee Taylor

  “After the fire, Melody came back?”

  “Yes, Madelyn-May, she came back. Unlike you.”

  “She was on drugs?”

  “Everything unraveled after what you did. All your Daddy’s insurance went to paying for medical bills, after what the fire did to my leg. We couldn’t even eat. The girls figured that selling drugs for that idiot Mercy was screwing was our only way out.”

  Over the years, every time I pictured Melody, she was happy. Maybe in a little house somewhere, with garden and a dog. I saw her with a daughter of her own, and a husband who loved her. But none of that is true. My twin sister is dead.

  “You can’t hold me accountable for every decision they made.” My voice is trembling. I long to cry for my sister, and I will, after my children are safe. “You could’ve helped us. If you did, maybe things would’ve turned out differently.”

  “Don’t try and blame what you did on me,” she spits. “You killed him. End of story.”

  She will never forgive me. That much is clear. All I can do now is try to get my children away from her, before she does something stupid. “I loved Melody,” I say. “Probably more than you did. I’m sorry she’s gone, but taking my children isn’t going to bring her back.”

  “The sooner you get in the back, the sooner this will all be over.”

  “Okay, fine, have it your way.” I reach over and touch Harry gently on the knee. “I’m going to come around and hop in with you guys, alright? Everything will be okay. Don’t move, and keep your eyes on me. I won’t let her hurt you, I promise.”

  But Harlow’s hand reaches out and wraps around my wrist. “Don’t get out, Mom, please. She’ll take us.”

  The fear in her voice tugs at my heart, and I hate myself for all the lost moments I could’ve spent with her. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart. When this is over, Dad and the three of us will all go on our trip, the one we talked about. How does that sound?”

  My mother gestures with the gun for me to get out, and as my feet touch the road, I know in my heart this is a bad idea. No one knows where I am, and Bastian isn’t going to call anytime soon. I look back, and Harlow meets my gaze. She doesn’t speak but I can read her thoughts. Don’t get out Mom. She’ll take us.

  “Undo your belt, sweetheart, and slide over toward your brother,” I tell her. “I’m going to come sit by you.”

  She does as she’s told, and slides toward Harry. When their legs touch, she laces her fingers through his, and whispers something into his ear.

  I set my second foot down on the road, and slowly lift my rear off the seat. At the same time, my mother lifts herself over the console and takes my place, her hands gripping the wheel before I even stand up.

  “Don’t do it…” I warn her. “Let me get into the back with my children.”

  But before I can reach for the door handle, I hear the doomed click of my car’s central locking, and I spin around. “No! Don’t!” I pound on the glass as hard as I can, but my pleas go unanswered.

  Harlow’s fingers spread out across the glass, and for a moment our eyes meet. Then the car roars away, with my children trapped inside.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Sophie

  It happened in the blink of an eye. One minute, the woman was pointing a gun at the twins, and the next Madelyn-May was standing in the middle of the road, watching helplessly as the car accelerated away.

  I turn, and glance into the back. “Hold on, Miss Molly, we have to chase that car.”

  My body is vibrating. My thoughts smash and collide, each idea shattering before it has the chance to form. Blood is rushing. My heart is pounding. But I must keep it together. If panic rules, chaos will ensue.

  Don’t be weak, don’t be weak, don’t be weak. The new mantra finds its way onto my lips. “Don’t be weak, don’t be weak, don’t be weak.”

  For the past five years, I’ve let anxiety win. I’ve allowed it to take me over. I don’t know whether it’s the crippling fear of being alone, the terror of waiting for the other shoe to drop, relentlessly wondering why am I still alive and they died, or just a longing to follow them deep into the abyss, but whatever the reason, my discomfort with life vibrates on a cellular level. Stronger than sadness, deeper than depression. When it hits, it’s like my body is screaming. My heart pounds against my rib cage, angry and trapped. A desperate need for change vibrates through me like an errant live wire, a hot trail of sparks left in its wake. The power of it is overwhelming, and I live each day in fear of when I inevitably explode, a supernova of light spewing out and disintegrating anything I’ve allowed to stray too close. But keeping my distance is no longer an option. I’ve already let them in. Miss Molly. Bastian. Samara. Gerard. Harry and Harlow. And it would seem, even Madelyn-May. If I explode, I will take them all with me, but I need to try. I must be stronger than my fear.

  I pull up next to a distraught-looking Madelyn-May, and push open the passenger door. “Get in! Hurry!”

  “Sophie? What…. Where did you come from?”

  “Get in!” I shout. “There’s no time.”

  She climbs in and I slam my foot on the gas.

  “She has them, Sophie.” In the time since Madelyn-May left my house, her face has aged. Worry lines I didn’t see have creased their way across her forehead, and her eyes have clouded. “She took Harry and Harlow. Do you have a phone? I need to call 911.”

  I don’t dare take my eyes off the road, but I can tell from the tremble in her voice that she is crying. “I don’t want to have to tell you this Madelyn-May, but no, I don’t have a phone. I left it back at the house.”

  Up ahead, her SUV weaves and swerves between cars, and I hold my breath. All we need to do is keep the car in sight until we figure out a way to contact the police.

  “Shit,” Madelyn-May says. “My phone is still in the car. What are we going to do?”

  I follow the SUV as it exits right onto City Avenue. “This goes to Interstate 76,” I say. “Looks like she’s heading west. Any idea where she might be taking them?”

  “I have no idea what she’s thinking about any of this. None of it makes any sense.”

  “Bastian said she tried to pick up Harlow from school yesterday. Did you ever think she would actually kidnap them?”

  “He told you about that?”

  I realize right away I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Once again, I have put my foot well and truly in my mouth. “He did, but—”

  “Did he tell you everything?” She pauses. “Did he tell you about what happened to me?”

  “Ah….”

  “He did, didn’t he?”

  She falls silent, and the impact of Bastian and my betrayal is undeniable. She doesn’t say anything more, because there are no words to describe it. The intimate bonds that he and I have shattered go further than the physical. We have broken promises, vows, and trust. We have broken her heart.

  “I’m sorry, Madelyn-May… about everything.”

  “The kids are all the matter now, Sophie,” she says, bluntly. “The rest is—”

  Up ahead, the SUV swerves onto an exit lane, and I push down hard on the gas. “Where is she going?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  I steal a quick glance in her direction, and can see her mind working overtime.

  “She has to know she can’t get away with it. Not like this. You don’t think she’ll hurt them, do you?”

  “No, she could have done that back there.”

  “Then, what?”

  “Well, first of all, she didn’t expect me to be behind you guys.”

  She nods and I can see she’s trying to steady herself. “You’re right, at least we have that in our favor. Don’t lose her, Sophie. Everything depends on us not losing her. If we do….”

  I keep my eyes trained on the road ahead. I don’t need to hear the rest of that sentence to know that if I lose the car, we lose the children. “I won’t. That’s a promise.”

  “I want you to know that I had no choice,” Mad
elyn-May says quietly. “You have to know that. I’m not a murderer. What happened with my family back in Sonoma was… unimaginable.”

  Determined not to say anything that might make her feel worse, for once I choose my words carefully. “Bastian didn’t say much, just that you did what you had to. No one would judge you for that, and for what it’s worth, if I was in your situation, I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same thing. I know I broke our promise, but what we did in the park that day meant something to me. If it hadn’t been for you, my Mom wouldn’t have found peace at the end of her life. You and I have a bond that can’t be broken, Madelyn-May, regardless of Bastian. I would never tell anyone what happened to you, or how you chose to save yourself. You have my word on that.”

  She opens her mouth, but before she can speak, up ahead the SUV swerves violently left, and we both stare wide-eyed unable to believe what we are seeing.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Lacy

  The wheel pulls away, and the car swerves into the middle lane. Harlow is pressed against the back of my seat, her hands wrapped around my face like suffocating tentacles.

  “Let go of me, you little shit,” I curse, struggling to pull her hands away from my face and eyes. “I can’t see….”

  “Stop the car,” she screams. “You lied to me, and you’re not going to take us away from Mom. I don’t want to go with you.”

  “I. Said. Let. Go!” I sink my fingernails into her skin, expecting her to cry out, but instead she digs deeper into my eyes.

  “Stop the car!”

  The car swerves right as I try using one hand to correct the vehicle, and the other to grab at her hands. “Get your hands off my goddamn eyes…”

  “Take us back!”

  “Sit down. You’re going to get us killed.” I ease my foot off the gas, and manage to yank her hands away from my eyes. With all my strength, I reach around and shove her back into her seat, where she slumps down against her brother. “Jesus, kid, you’re twelve years old. What are you trying to do?”

  I wait to hear the click of her seat belt, and when it doesn’t come, I glance at her in the rear-vision mirror. “What are you doing back there? Put your belt on.”

  She returns my gaze and for a moment I swear it’s Madelyn-May’s scheming eyes looking back at me. “What the….”

  Suddenly, she launches forward, and wraps her brother’s belt around my throat. The buckle clicks as she pulls the leather through the clasp, tighter and tighter, until it cuts into my throat.

  “Stop the car and let us go….” The change in her voice is unmistakable. Gone is the shrill tone of a little girl’s fear and panic. Instead her tone is solid, determined.

  “Get off…,” I cough, already feeling light-headed. “Let go….”

  But instead of letting go, she pulls tighter. Unable to breathe, I have no choice but to release the wheel as my fingers claw at the leather. Tiny lights buzz in front of my eyes, like mayflies in the spring. “You want to try and kill me?” I whisper. “Fine, but this time you’re coming with me.” I plant my foot hard on the gas, and close my eyes. “Finally, you’re going to get what you deserve ,Madelyn-May. Now it’s your turn to watch something you love go up in flames.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Sophie

  I can’t say whether it’s coming from Madelyn-May, or the car in front, or my own lungs, but amid the sound of breaking glass and twisting metal, it’s the screaming that finds its way in. Primal and raw, it is the screaming that will forever echo through the chambers of my heart.

  Madelyn-May’s SUV smashes into the middle barrier, the impact flipping it up into the air, where it hangs suspended long enough for us to see Harlow’s tiny body tumble forward and smash through the windshield.

  I slam on the breaks, my own tires squealing, suffocating the car in a cloud of stinking smoke. In one motion I leap out, and run toward the carnage ahead of us.

  “Harlow!” Behind me Madelyn-May’s scream cuts through the silence, and I stop where I am. Two lanes over, the little girl’s body is lying broken on the motorway.

  I think back to what was happening in the car right before the crash. Harlow was standing up against the back of the seat. “She wasn’t wearing a seat belt…” The whisper hangs on my lips as I scan the road in every direction, searching for Harry. He had his belt on, he must be trapped in the car.

  I turn, and almost run head-on into a balding man standing on the roadway. Cars have stopped all around us, and people are spilling out onto the road. His hands are on his hips, and he’s shaking his head. “Do you know them? Is there anyone else in the car?”

  “Yes, a boy,” I say, as my mind crashes, and the present collides with the past. “My son.”

  “Your son is in the car?”

  With no time to explain, I run toward the overturned car. Inside, Madelyn-May’s mother lies unconscious in the front seat, her head buried in the deployed airbag. In the back, still strapped into his seat, is Harry. Upside down, his head is hanging forward, and his eyes are closed. He isn’t moving.

  “Harry, are you alright?” I shout. When he doesn’t move or answer, I do my best to get in closer.

  “Don’t move him,” someone says.

  “The paramedics are on their way,” says someone else.

  Their voices wrap around me, but I can’t make sense of anything they’re saying. All I can see is the dark rainbow of gas leaking out from beneath the car. “I have to get him out,” I point toward the pattern forming on the road. “Right now.”

  “She’s right!” a man shouts. “I’ll get the woman. Someone help me.”

  Without waiting, I throw myself down onto the road, and crawl in through the broken back window. Shattered glass cuts into my knees and palms, but I don’t feel a thing. “Harry…” I try. “Harry are you awake?”

  He moans gently, and I try not to look at the bloody gash on his neck.

  “Harry, sweetie, I have to get you out of here. It might hurt, but only for a minute. Okay?”

  “Hurry, the car could blow at any time,” a man’s voice shouts. “We don’t have long.”

  I flip over awkwardly onto my back, and unlatch Harry’s seat belt. When he comes loose, I slowly and carefully lower him onto my chest. He is heavier than I expected, but my heart quickly takes over. Lost in an ethereal blend of past and present, his weight shifts, and Harry feels as light as a five-year old, as I slide back out onto the road. “I’ve got you,” I whisper, as tears slip over my cheeks. “This time I’ve got you.”

  I squint from the glare of sunlight, as two men take him from my arms. Behind us, a parade of police, fire, and ambulance vehicles chorus toward the crash site. “The woman I came with, and the little girl,” I manage. “Where are they?”

  A teenage girl with flame-red hair points to the side of the motorway, where Madelyn-May is sitting cross-legged, Harlow draped across her lap.

  “Were you first on scene?” a stern police officer asks, pad in hand.

  “We were travelling behind the car that crashed.”

  “We?”

  I point over at Madelyn-May. “Her daughter was in the car. Her son too. I got him out. They were being….”

  “They were being what?”

  “Taken….” is the last word I manage, before everything goes black.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Madelyn-May

  She feels like a lifeless rag doll in my arms. Blood has matted her hair, and I can tell from the way her right arm is twisted that it’s broken. I feel for a pulse, the way they do on television, but have no idea if I’m doing it right. For so many years I pushed her away, and now I would do anything to have her back.

  “Ma’am, I’m going to need you to slowly and carefully place the little girl down, and then step away,” a man in uniform tells me. “You need to let us work on her.”

  I stare at him blankly, my mind recalling the levels of shock. They say there are three, but that’s not true. There is a fourth. One th
at Sophie understands all too well. And now, so do I.

  “She’s not dead,” I tell the paramedic. “She’s not. I’d feel it if she was. I’d know.” Wouldn’t I?

  “You’re her mother?”

  “Yes.” Am I?

  I look over to where Sophie is talking to the police, and long to ask if she feels it, a loss like a part of her has slipped away. If Harlow is dead, surely Sophie would sense it. They share a biological connection that Harlow and I never can, but maybe it doesn’t work that way. Maybe when a part of you dies, all the other pieces knit together to save your heart from literally breaking. I tell myself that this must be what happens. How else would Sophie have been able to carry on all these years?

  “I’m going to need you to put her down, slowly and carefully,” the paramedic tells me again, his voice more forceful this time.

  I nod, and slowly slide my hands out from under her tiny frame. “Is she going to be okay?” I ask him. “I mean… it’s not too late?”

  More paramedics rush forward, and the man crouched at Harlow’s side gives them an almost robotic description of her injuries.

  “Patient is a twelve-year-old female involved in MVC. No seat belt, and thrown clear. Unconscious, with suspected internal hemorrhage, and possible TBI. Right arm has clear humerus and distal radius fracture, possible ulna fracture.”

  “Let’s go, let’s go,” a woman, dressed in a navy paramedic uniform, shouts. “Clock’s ticking.”

  Behind us, the lights of a red-and-white paramedic van continue flashing, and I squeeze my eyes open and closed to try and stay focused. “Is she going to be okay?” I ask again.

  They ignore me and continue to work frantically on Harlow.

  “BLA and central line, do it now. We’ll need an air-evac.”

  “Is she alright? Please, someone answer me.”

  I try to see her, but she’s swallowed up in a whirlwind of words I don’t understand. All I can do is stand helplessly on the motorway, my hands dangling uselessly at my sides. I wonder if this is what it might feel like to be a mother without her child, like living in a world where everyone has their back turned, and you no longer know what to do with your hands. I take one last look at the swarm of paramedics buzzing around Harlow, then hurry toward the flurry of ambulance lights. I need to find Sophie. She knows where they took Harry. Somewhere amid all the flashing lights and shouting, it hits me: I knew my son would be safe with Sophie. I knew she would pull him out, and that he would be alright. What I don’t know is whether I can bare to finish the sentence … because she is his real mother.