Too Many Secrets

by E B Corbin

  “So you went to visit your sister in the middle of a war…?” Roxanne prodded again, trying to keep her mother on track. As much as she wanted to learn more about Chester, she had an even stronger desire to hear about her aunt.

  “Never officially called a ‘war,’” her mother stated. “That time is known as the Troubles. A very British downplay of the circumstances as far as I’m concerned. Before I arrived, I didn’t understand the amount of violence occurring. My studies left little time to worry about world events… and then I met Patrick.” With a loving smile, her mother glanced at her father. “We got engaged just before I left. It was both the happiest and most frightening time of my life.”

  Roxanne focused on her father who remained glued to the far wall as he let them talk. “So, Dad, why didn’t you go to Ireland with her?”

  “I wanted to. I didn’t like her going over there all alone, but she insisted. It was supposed to be for a couple of weeks.” He frowned shuffling his feet. “Turned out to be several months. I’d become very worried about her.”

  Roxanne turned back to her mother. “Go on, go on… What happened in Ireland?” Too many secrets, too many lies— time to clear it all up.

  “I knew practically nothing of the fighting going on in 1976 when Roxy wrote she had met a man. She wanted me to meet him, so I thought, why not?” Her mother sighed. “It seemed the right thing to do, although it could have been a big mistake”

  Roxanne sucked in a breath. “Did you get caught up in violence?”

  “Not personally. Roxy knew her way around keeping us as safe as she could.”

  “Did you meet her boyfriend?”

  “No…” Her mother took a deep breath. “Aiden had a beautiful singing voice, a virtuoso Irish tenor. A gold mine as far as bands were concerned. This was about ten years after the British invasion with the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Who…all those bands back then. I swear every young man in the British Isles joined a band or wanted to start one. I didn’t think too much about it; I mean, sooner or later, he had to buckle down and get a real job, didn’t he?” Her grim smile told Roxanne it never happened.

  “He never got the chance. As the band performed at a pub in Belfast one night, one of those gangs hit. I don’t know if it was Catholic against Protestant, Protestant against Catholic, Irish against English, or what. Anyway, a bomb went off in the pub, Aidan died. The other three guys in the band were injured, but Aidan, the lead singer, stood in front of the others on stage. A piece of table leg went right through his heart.” Her mother stopped to wipe a tear away. “This happened a week before my flight to Ireland. I never had the chance to meet him. Roxy was a complete wreck when I got there. I never saw my sister so upset—even when we lost our parents.”

  “It had to be hard,” Roxanne nodded in sympathy.

  “Oh, it was bad, real bad. As the youngest in the family, I had always followed orders and towed the line. Roxy claimed the title of the wild one, with a devil-may-care attitude, needing no one. Suddenly she needed my help. I didn’t know what to do, so I insisted we get out of Northern Ireland and go to Dublin. To my surprise, Roxy agreed.”

  When a man in a white coat entered the room, her mother stopped the story.

  The doctor made a bee-line to his patient disregarding Roxanne’s visitors. “So how are we doing today?”

  “Fine.” Roxanne hoped he would hurry with his unnecessary procedures. “Can I get out of here now?”

  “As soon as you finish your breakfast. You were unconscious when you came in last night.” He studied her chart. Then he took her pulse, tested her blood pressure, listened to her heartbeat, checked each eye with a tiny light; everything the nurse had done less than an hour before. “How’s your head?”

  “Feels like somebody hit me with one of those ten-pound exercise bat they have at the gym.”

  “Any pressure?”

  “No,” Roxanne lied with a straight face. She wanted out of there with no more stupid questions.

  “Your vitals look good. I’ll sign the release papers. We’ll send someone in when your paperwork is ready.” He swept out of the room, nodding to her parents in a perfunctory manner.

  Roxanne knew doctors were necessary—she wished they were less condescending. She threw the covers off the bed to get up.

  “Roxanne!” Her mother gasped. “What are you doing?”

  “You heard him. He said I could go.” Roxanne slowly eased her legs over the side of the bed, hoping she didn’t have a dizzy spell. “My clothes should be in the locker.” She pointed to the end of the bed. “Can you get them for me?”

  “Shouldn’t you wait for a nurse?” her mother asked, hesitating. “And what about John Callahan? He’ll be back and won’t be able to find you.”

  “Oh, he always finds me… somehow.”

  Looking doubtful, her mother retrieved her clothes along with her messenger bag from the locker. Roxanne went into the small bathroom to change, telling her mother she could manage on her own.

  It took longer than she wished because she couldn’t move very fast without making her head pound. Longing for a shower, Roxanne threw water on her face then brushed her hair into a ponytail, taking care to go gently around the golf ball on the back of her head. She checked out the super-large Band-Aid on her forehead, noted the dark circles under her eyes, and pinched her cheeks to get color into them. She walked out feeling only marginally better.

  “You should eat something before we go.” Her mother didn’t give up easily.

  “I’m not eating that crap. We can stop at the diner for breakfast. You guys have to eat too.”

  Her mother sighed. “All right… Where is this diner?”

  “It’s not far. Just a couple blocks. You must have passed it coming into town.”

  “I remember the place.” Her father knew when to take charge. “Looks like it might be good.”

  “It better be,” Roxanne told him. “I think I own it.”

  “What?” Her mother grabbed Roxanne’s arm. “Roxy had a diner?”

  “It’s called Roxy’s Diner, the waitress knew all about Roxy, so I guess it’s part of my inheritance.” Roxanne peered out the window at the snow-covered hillside behind the hospital. “I haven’t seen the will yet, so none of this is certain.”

  “I thought that’s why you came here.”

  “I did but… there have been a few complications.”

  Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of complications?”

  “For one thing, the lawyer died.”

  “Ralph Patterson is dead?” Her voice rose a few octaves to a squeak.

  “Don’t tell me you knew him too?”

  “He was in my graduating class. What happened? Was he sick?”

  “Not that I know of. It’s complicated. We can talk about it on the way to the diner. Let’s get out of here.” Roxanne needed to hear the rest of the story.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The head nurse at the station had the necessary release papers but insisted she wait for an aide with a wheelchair to take her to the exit. Roxanne maintained she didn’t need a wheelchair, she wanted to leave immediately. The nurse won with the help of Roxanne’s mother, who always followed the rules while making certain her daughter did the same.

  While Roxanne paced and fidgeted, waiting for the aide to show up, her father went to bring the car around to the hospital entrance.

  Once settled into the back seat, Roxanne had second thoughts about inviting her parents to join her for breakfast. She needed time alone to think— to get things straight in her mind in light of current events. Then her stomach growled, reminding her she’d had no dinner the night before. The appeal of the diner outweighed her reluctance to tell them of the strange, confusing incidents since she’d landed in Oilville.

  “You were going to tell me about Ralph Patterson.” Her mother turned around in the front seat to face Roxanne as they drove out of the parking lot.

  “Oh, yeah, well… from what I understand,
a car plowed into him as he crossed the street.”

  “Oh, my goodness! What about Sylvia? Is she okay?”

  “God!” Roxanne shook her head. “For someone who hasn’t been here in forty years, you sure know a lot about the people in this town.”

  “Sylvia was a year behind me in school. She and Ralph have been together since ninth grade. I’m so sorry about Ralph— everyone liked him.”

  “Well, somebody didn’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It might not have been an accident. Nobody ever owned up to it, the car drove off without stopping… kind of like what happened to Aunt Roxy. Her death is being called accidental too. I don’t believe it. So far no one has admitted to taking the shot.”

  Her mother frowned at the news. “Perhaps you should come home until the police sort this all out. You were attacked last night, who knows what could happen next? It’s not safe here.”

  Roxanne said nothing since telling her mother about the condo break-in would open a whole new can of worms. She’d never be able to explain why it wasn’t safe in Pittsburgh either.

  “Turn left here,” she told her father, avoiding any further discussion on the topic. “It’s about a quarter mile. Right there.”

  Thankfully the sight of the diner distracted her mother. The older woman strained her neck to check out the exterior of the place. As they entered the diner, her mother swiveled her head from side to side, regarding everything with a critical eye. Since she didn’t say a word. Roxanne figured either her mother couldn’t come up with any criticism or the idea of her daughter now being the proud owner of a small-town diner overwhelmed her.

  Patti greeted them and pointed out a more or less private booth in the corner. When Roxanne introduced her parents, Patti nodded, avoiding eye contact with them.

  Roxanne slid into the booth first. It felt so good to rest her pounding head against the padded seat back, she didn’t even complain when her mother came around to sit next to her, crowding her.

  When Patti finished taking their breakfast order, Roxanne turned to her mother. “So now you can go on with your story about Roxy and Chester.”

  Her mother balked. “What about your safety? We need to discuss that.”

  “You first.” Roxanne sensed her mother wanted to avoid further discussion about Roxy.

  Her father cut in softly, “She’s right, Maureen. Tell her the rest of it.”

  “I see I’m outnumbered here.” Not getting any response, her mother continued, “Where did I leave off? Let me think.”

  While the older woman hemmed and hawed, Roxanne kept her on topic. “Roxy’s boyfriend died— you flew over to help her.”

  “Yes, well, yes… Did I mention Roxy was six weeks pregnant at the time of the bombing?”

  “What?” Roxanne sat up straight, forgetting about her aching head.

  “She had a baby girl the next year. I put off returning to school in the fall to stay with her until the baby’s birth. She feared for the baby’s safety in Belfast.”

  “I thought you said you went to Dublin.”

  “We did.” Her mother fluttered her hands. “Oh, dear, I’m getting ahead of myself.”

  “Take your time, I need to hear the whole story.” Roxanne watched her mother clasp her hands tight.

  “Roxy could hardly wait to get back to Northern Ireland. Especially when it turned out Dublin wasn’t safe either. I wanted us both to go home. Roxy wouldn’t hear of it.”

  “Why didn’t you leave without her?”

  “I couldn’t leave my pregnant sister in another country, all alone. That would be downright cruel.”

  “Yeah, speaking of—”

  Her mother cut off any queries by patting Roxanne’s hand. “I’ll get to your questions in a minute. First, you need to understand the situation we were in.”

  “I understand… I think.” Roxanne itched to shake her mother so she’d get to the point. “Go on.”

  “Shortly after we arrived in Dublin, we learned of Chester’s appointment as the American ambassador. We agreed we needed to let him know we were in Ireland in case something happened to one or both of us. We had no one else to turn to.” Her mother sipped the ice water Patti placed on the table.

  Roxanne watched as her mother drank nearly half the glass, then she rolled her hands to signal her mother to continue.

  “Our father lost contact with his family in Ireland when he came to America. As an only child, our mother had no relatives as far as we knew. No one would miss us if something happened.”

  Roxanne turned to her father. “Weren’t you worried about them?”

  He lifted his shoulders, spreading his hands. “I knew nothing about this. Remember, before Skype and email it took weeks for mail from overseas. I received postcards from the Blarney Stone, the cliffs of Moher, even the Aran Islands. I thought they were having a great vacation.” Her father softened his stance, his frown turned to a smile. “She lied the whole time.”

  “I didn’t want to worry you,” her mother replied. “Roxy and I were both upset enough. Especially when the British ambassador’s car blew up with him in it. We became concerned about Chester. We knew we couldn’t wait any longer to contact him. When we did, he welcomed us with open arms. He pooh-poohed our concerns assuring us his increased security would be more than adequate.

  “When he found out about Roxy’s condition, he insisted we stay with him. Since we had no other place to go we took him up on his offer. Not an ideal solution, but it worked.”

  “Why wouldn’t Roxy leave Ireland?”

  “She had the hare-brained idea of finding our father’s family in Belfast. Plus, after Aidan’s death, she became more determined than ever to get involved and help stop the bloodshed. No way would she go back to the States. She planned to go Belfast to join a peace movement and continue her search for our family. She’d heard about a group called the Peace People. They held rallies after a horrible shooting caused a car to go out of control killing three children.” Her mother stopped to watch a family with four children troop past the booth. She smiled at the youngest, who gave a shy wave.

  Once they were out of hearing distance, she continued. “Roxy was positive she belonged with this Peace People group. It was a combination of both Protestants and Catholics who joined forces to stop the violence. She insisted they needed every volunteer they could find and truly thought she could make a difference. Even asked me to go with her.

  “I insisted it was no place for a baby so we came up with a plan. When we told Chester, he wholeheartedly agreed to make arrangements for me to fly home with the baby. He pushed through the paperwork necessary for your American passport in record time, then we ran into a prob—”

  “Wait… my passport?” Roxanne slumped in her seat blowing out a breath. “Of course. I should have picked up on it sooner. Then… you’re not my mother. You’re really my aunt.”

  Her mother sat up straighter, keeping her focus on the table. “I’m listed on your birth certificate as your mother, Patrick as your father. We raised you as our own. We still love you more than anything. So I would like to think you consider me your mother.”

  Roxanne eyed the man she had always considered her father. “You agreed to that?”

  “I loved Maureen. I would have done anything she asked.”

  Her mother took his hand over the table before continuing. “I didn’t give him a chance. At first I let him assume you were his. I’d been gone for over seven months… it could have been our baby. He truly didn’t know, or even suspect, when I lied by omission… except I felt so guilty about it I broke down and told him when we were safely back in the US. I thought he would be so angry, he’d leave me with a baby to raise.” Her mother smiled at her father. “He surprised me.”

  “Wow.” Roxanne gave the news time to sink in. “This sounds like a soap opera.”

  Patrick took Roxanne’s hand with his free one. “Sweetheart, we love you like our own. We always will. I only hope you can
forgive us.”

  “Doesn’t sound like there’s much to forgive,” Roxanne expected her head to spin around backwards. She wanted to pinch herself to make sure she really existed. “Especially you, dad. At first, you were as much in the dark as me.”

  “What about me?” Her mother spoke in a quiet, pleading tone. “Can you forgive me?”

  Roxanne put her arm around her mother willing her voice to sound sincere. She owed this woman a lot even if they didn’t always agree. “You raised me, yelled at me, even tried to stop all my wild antics. You’re my mother, in the most meaningful way.”

  Her mother let the tears flow down her cheeks. “I’m so relieved. I thought… Oh, I don’t know what I thought… it frightened me so to tell you.”

  Roxanne removed her arm from her mother’s shoulders. “I’ll need some time to work through this. You have to understand this changes things for me. You could have told me sooner. Like about thirty-five years ago.”

  “I’m so, so, sorry. You don’t know how awful I feel about this. I was wrong not to explain it to you before, but—”

  Loaded with platters, Patti glanced around the table, saying nothing about the silent faces avoiding her gaze. They dug into the food, all three of them hungry, relieved for a break in the uncomfortable conversation.

  When Roxanne’s father tried to pay for their meals with a credit card, Patti waved him away. “On the house.”

  “That’s a nice perk,” he remarked as they climbed in the car.

  Her mother clucked her tongue. “You can’t make any money doing business that way. Where does that waitress come off giving away free meals?”

  Roxanne shrugged. “Patti is managing the place, keeping it open until the will is located. I doubt she’s giving away all the profit.”