Secrets of Redemption Box Set

by Michele Pariza Wacek

  “I don’t want to see anyone,” I muttered. Since Daphne’s visit, I had fallen into something of a depression. Clearly, I couldn’t trust my own mind, so what could I trust? Doctor “Call-me-Pete?” Nurse Ellen? Hardly. Even my very surroundings were called into question: if I couldn’t trust my mind, could I trust that I actually was in a hospital? Or was I still back in Aunt Charlie’s house, wandering the halls and mumbling to myself? Needless to say, I hadn’t bathed, brushed my teeth, or combed my hair in days. I probably stank to high heaven. I had barely eaten. In my current condition, I wasn’t fit to see anyone.

  “I think you want to see this person,” The nurse said, smoothing the wrinkles on the cover of my bed. She seemed like she would be better suited baking cookies for hordes of grandchildren than working in the psychiatric wing of a hospital. She smiled at me, a kind smile, before leaving the room.

  I went back to staring out the window.

  “Hi Becca,” a deep, male voice said. I turned, but I instantly knew it was Daniel, before I even saw him. He pulled up a chair to my bed and sat down. “How are you feeling?”

  “How do you think?” I asked tonelessly. I noticed Daniel was out of uniform, wearing jeans and a white Bud Light tee shirt. Did that make this a social call? I was too depressed and discouraged to care.

  He paused. “Yeah, that was probably a dumb question. Are you feeling up to answering some questions?”

  I sighed. “I don’t have many answers.”

  “I actually think you might.” He pulled his chair closer to me and showed me his phone. A part of me wanted to sidle away. I felt so disgusting, I didn’t want Daniel anywhere near me, but I told myself it didn’t matter and stayed put. “Do you know this man?” he asked.

  I glanced down at a picture of an older man wearing a dark suit, his thin, graying hair combed over a prominent bald spot. “Should I?”

  “Just … do you know him?” Daniel asked gently.

  I shook my head. “Who is he?”

  Daniel paused. For a moment, I didn’t think he was going to answer me, but then he did. “He’s Charlie’s lawyer.”

  Aunt Charlie’s lawyer? I took a second look at the phone. “That doesn’t look like the man who came to see me in New York,” I said. “Does he have a partner? An associate?”

  Daniel stuffed the phone back in his pocket. “He’s one of a few lawyers in that firm.”

  “Oh, well that makes sense,” I said, feeling oddly relieved, even though I wasn’t sure why. Something had begun to tickle the back of my head, like a bad smell that you couldn’t figure out the source. “I must have seen one of the other attorneys,” I said.

  “Undoubtedly,” Daniel agreed. “Has anyone else come to see you?”

  “Daphne.”

  “No one else?”

  I glanced sideways at him. “Should someone else have come to see me?”

  He put the phone away. “There’s a lot of people pulling for you,” he said.

  I laughed, but there was no humor behind it. “I don’t know how that’s possible. I’m batshit crazy, apparently.”

  He opened his mouth, and closed it again, before finally saying. “I don’t think you’re crazy.”

  “You’re definitely in the minority.”

  “You’d be surprised how many people don’t think you’re crazy.”

  I turned to look at him. “Are you seriously telling me people are more willing to believe that Aunt Charlie’s house is haunted than that I’ve lost my mind? Since when do you believe in ghosts?”

  He leaned forward. “Those aren’t the only two possible explanations, Becca.”

  “I guess you didn’t hear. My drug test came back negative.” I went back to looking out the window. God, I felt gross. How could he stand to be in the same room with me, let alone sit right next to me?

  “There may be something else going on entirely …”

  “I can’t remember the night Jessica disappeared,” I said, my tone flat. A robin had alighted on the building next door. I focused all of my attention on the bird as it hopped around, so I didn’t have to look at Daniel. I couldn’t bear to see the disappointment I was sure would be all over his face. But, he deserved the truth. He was a good guy. I should have come clean the first time he came to the house.

  All the lies I had told. I had practically choked on them. No more.

  “I didn’t want to tell you. I thought … well, I guess I thought it made me look guilty. Or something. But maybe I am guilty. Maybe I am crazy. Something certainly seems to be … unglued, in my brain.” I sighed deeply, painfully. I didn’t think I had ever felt as defeated in my life as I did in this moment. “I’m sorry.”

  “What are you sorry for?”

  He sounded surprised, but I still couldn’t bear to look at him. “I should have told you. I’ve let you down.”

  “Hey. Look at me.” I glanced sideways at him, seeing him shift in his chair, leaning closer to me. “You didn’t let me down. I had a feeling … well, I’m not completely surprised that you don’t remember. But, there’s more to the story here than even you know.”

  Despite myself, a tiny glimmer of hope lit up inside me. “What? What else could possibly be going on?”

  He glanced around the hospital room, even though we were the only ones in there. “Look,” he said quietly. “This isn’t the time or place to get into everything, but things are not as they seem. Daphne came to see me …”

  At that, I jerked my head up. “Daphne? Did she see Chrissy? Is Chrissy okay?”

  Daniel picked up his hand as if to touch me, then dropped it back on the bed. “Chrissy is fine. For now. Look, you need to know that you have friends. People who believe in you, and who are digging into all of this, on your behalf.”

  He picked up his hand again, lifting it to my cheek, as if to caress my face, but again he paused, just inches from touching me. I could feel the heat from his fingers radiate onto my skin. A part of me longed to close my eyes and press my face against his hand, but I restrained myself. He’s engaged, I reminded myself. Plus, technically I was still married, even if my husband had stuck me in the mental ward of a hospital and hadn’t even been to see me. Not that I completely blamed Stefan.

  “I have something for you,” Daniel said, breaking the spell and dropping his hand. I could almost feel the cold rush in, where his hand had just lingered, and I closed my eyes briefly against the disappointment.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone.

  I stared at it, uncomprehending. “You’re giving me a phone?”

  He pressed it into my hand. “It’s a burner. You know, one of those you pay cash for, and that doesn’t have a contract? You’re not supposed to have phones in here, so keep it hidden.” He smiled, a little self-consciously. “Daphne’s, Mia’s, and my number are all on there, so don’t get caught. I’d have some explaining to do.”

  I looked down at the phone. “I still don’t understand. Why are you giving this to me?”

  He leaned closer, nearly whispering in my ear. “Do you know what’s happening here?”

  I must have looked as confused as I felt, because he continued without waiting for me to answer. “You won’t be staying here very long. And, since your calls are monitored and you can’t have a cell, you have no way of letting us know if you’re being transferred.”

  I blinked at him, feeling really stupid … like I was missing something big. “Transferred? To where?”

  “To an actual mental institute or clinic. Probably in the Milwaukee area, but who knows? This place is for temporary placement. It’s not designed to be permanent.”

  “Wait … what are you talking about? Temporary placement? Permanent? They can’t just move me somewhere.”

  Daniel’s face didn’t change expression.

  “Wait. Can they? How, Daniel? How is that legal?”


  “Well, it’s not. Not yet, anyway. They have to go to court to do it.”

  My head was spinning. “On what grounds? How can they just take me to court without my knowledge?” I started to pull the covers off. “I have to go. Where’s Stefan? I need to talk to him.”

  Daniel placed his hand on my shoulder and gently pressed me back onto the bed. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  “What do you mean I’m not going anywhere? I have to get myself discharged.”

  Daniel shook his head. “You can’t. At least not right now. You’ve been involuntarily committed.”

  “What?”

  He brushed his fingers against my lips. “Hush. Keep your voice down.”

  “But … what is happening? I don’t understand. How can they do that?”

  “It’s only temporary. That’s why they need to go to court, if they want to make it permanent.”

  My breathing was loud in my ears. Blackness swarmed at the edges of my vision. The phrase “involuntarily committed” kept repeating itself over and over in my mind.

  Had I really lost it?

  From far away, a voice that didn’t sound like me faintly asked, “On what grounds have I been committed?”

  Daniel watched me carefully. “That you’re a danger to yourself and others.”

  “I’m a danger …” I couldn’t even finish the thought. I wasn’t a danger. I couldn’t be a danger. I was trying to help Chrissy. Wasn’t I?

  “If you’ve tried … if you’ve tried to take your own life, you’re automatically committed in order to be watched.”

  “Take my own life? I never tried anything of the sort!”

  Had I? I thought back to that night. Chrissy sleepwalking, Stefan yelling at me about the knife in my purse. No, I did NOT try to commit suicide. That was the furthest thought from my mind.

  Or, an ugly little voice whispered, are you just not remembering?

  I shivered.

  Daniel was talking, but I had missed what he said. I asked him to repeat it. “You didn’t try and kill yourself? Or kill Chrissy?”

  I pressed my fingers against my eyelids. “I … I don’t think so. I don’t remember that at all. Chrissy was sleepwalking again, and I was trying to help her. Stefan was the one who came in with the knife. I didn’t have the knife, I didn’t have anything. But what does Stefan say?”

  Daniel was silent for a moment. “Becca, he’s already filed papers. He’s trying to have you committed. Permanently.”

  I felt like I had been slapped. “There must be some mistake,” I said, my voice sounding far away again.

  “There’s no mistake.”

  “But … Oh God.” I felt like my reality was cracking around me. “How could he do this? He hasn’t spoken to me or visited me or anything.” I slumped over, all the strength leaving me. “Could he be right? Maybe I did try something, and I just don’t remember?”

  “Becca, look at me.”

  I didn’t want to, but something in his voice compelled me to raise my head slightly. He was staring intently at me. “I don’t believe that, and neither should you.”

  “How can you not? It’s not like this would be the first time I’ve lost my memory,” I said bitterly.

  He leaned forward, his voice urgent. “Have you been having blackouts? You said you don’t remember an entire day. Is that what has been happening? Are you missing big chunks of time?”

  I closed my eyes. “No. Nothing like what happened to me fifteen years ago. But, wait, would I remember missing big chunks of time? I don’t know. I’m so confused.” I rubbed my eyes again before opening them. “But, if it’s not true, why would Stefan say that’s what happened?”

  Daniel’s face got very still. “That’s precisely the question I’d like to get the answer to.”

  Chapter 37

  After Daniel left, I laid in bed, feeling the sharp edges of the cell phone through the thin pillow, and stared at the ceiling. Unsure where to hide it, I had shoved it under my pillow, although that was probably the worst place to put it. Thoughts of cell phone wave-induced brain cancer danced in my head, but I shoved them away. What did it even matter if I got brain cancer? I was most likely crazy, and my husband was actively working to keep me locked away in a mental institute for the rest of my life. A possible brain tumor seemed like the least of my worries.

  Before he left, Daniel had asked me more questions. General questions about my marriage.

  Was Stefan having an affair? Probably not, but who knows? Brittle, blonde Sabrina definitely wouldn’t be kicking him out of her bed.

  Was there money? I laughed. Hardly. We were broke, so there was no reason he couldn’t simply divorce me. Half of nothing was still nothing. Yes, I did have a trust fund my grandparents had set up for all the grandchildren, but I couldn’t access it until I was fifty-five.

  Was I having an affair? Daniel didn’t meet my eyes when he asked. My answer was flat. No.

  Did Stefan have enemies? Did I? Not that I knew of.

  Could I think of anything, anything at all, that might help?

  Not a thing.

  Daniel frowned and glanced at his phone, telling me it was later than he thought, and he had to go. He was just about to step out when I found myself calling after him. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

  That stopped him. He stepped back into the room and closed the door behind him, a puzzled expression on his face. “Why would you ask such a question?”

  I paused. Did I really want to get into what happened fifteen years ago? How he had stood me up? Could I trust him? I felt like I could, but having married two men who had betrayed me, it was becoming clear to me that I wasn’t the best judge of character. “I guess … well, you know, with what happened that summer …”

  “Oh.” The confusion cleared, but it was replaced by his professional “mask.” “We were kids,” he said briskly. “And it was a long time ago. It doesn’t have any bearing on what’s going on now.”

  I blinked at him. That seemed like an odd answer. I wondered if we had had a conversation about it that I just didn’t remember yet. I wondered if I had been a bitch about it.

  He glanced at his phone. “I’ve got to go, but I’ll be in touch.”

  I nodded as the door gently closed behind him.

  Pieces of the conversation danced through my head as I stared at the ceiling. I still didn’t know if I could trust Daniel or not, but his questions did clarify one thing for me.

  No, there was absolutely nothing I could think of, no reason why my husband would want to permanently commit me to a mental institute.

  Unless he really did believe I was a danger to myself and others.

  Despair settled around me like a thick cloak. How on earth was I going to live the rest of my life unable to trust my own thoughts? Unable to believe if what I was seeing or experiencing was real or not? What was I going to do? My husband had definitely abandoned me. The rest of my family wouldn’t want anything to do with me either—the stigma of having a crazy daughter? I was already such a disappointment to my mother. I couldn’t even imagine how she would react when she heard the news.

  My life rolled out in front of me: a series of quiet, uneventful days filled with doctor visits and drugs. Lots and lots of drugs.

  No meaning. No friends. No family. No connections. No purpose. No fun.

  No life.

  I would simply be lost, locked away in my own private hell. Maybe CB would visit, if he’d remember.

  I couldn’t even cry. I felt too empty even for that.

  Did Redemption hate me so much that it had to make me go crazy, to drive me away? The words stung. God, I hated my life.

  The only small comfort I could find was in the fact that, if I was a danger, I was actually in the safest place I could be. I certainly didn’t want to be responsible for hurt
ing anyone, especially Chrissy. Despite our rocky relationship, I truly wanted to protect her.

  Maybe, with me in the hospital, whatever weird spell that was in the house would finally be broken.

  Daniel’s voice floated through my brain. Chrissy is fine. For now. What did he mean by that? Was Chrissy not actually fine, and he didn’t want to tell me? I felt the stirring of some ominous dread penetrate the fog of my depression. If there was something wrong with Chrissy, what could I possibly do about it? Who would even believe me, if I tried to get her help?

  The grandmotherly nurse walked in with the pill tray. “Ready for your meds?” she asked.

  I nodded listlessly. She pressed the button on the frame to slowly raise the bed. I thought about the cell phone under the pillow, and pressed myself back to keep it from sliding out. Just because there was no hope for me didn’t mean I had to throw my friends under the bus.

  She handed me my meds and a cup of water. I swallowed them, moving stiffly and automatically, almost like a mannequin.

  “Think you can eat a little dinner tonight?” She asked, peering over her dark-framed glasses to study me.

  I tried to smile. “I’ll do what I can.” Although I already knew I wouldn’t be able to swallow a bite.

  As soon as she left, I lowered the bed to its flat position and continued staring at the ceiling, lost in my dark thoughts.

  “About time you got here.”

  I blinked. I was back in Aunt Charlie’s kitchen. Aunt Charlie stood behind the stove, clattering pots and pans, making a racket.

  “How did I get here?”

  Aunt Charlie snorted. “You don’t want to know. You have no idea what I had to do to get you here.”

  The kitchen was dark except for a faint light that outlined Aunt Charlie as she bustled about. The appliances looked like hunched shadows, ready to pounce the moment I turned my back. I licked my lips. My mouth was so dry, it felt like my tongue was cracking. I could feel the fear start to curl up in my stomach.

  “I don’t want tea,” I said.