The Secrets We Keep

by Shirley Patton

‘You did do something, we all have. We’ve all benefited from somebody else’s loss, we’re all privileged by it. We each have to acknowledge what we’ve done.’ She was no longer sure what she was saying, or the safest way to begin, only that she had to say it.

  The veil shimmered, she was safe. Now she knew what she had to do. She felt a new strength. It grew from inside her, she felt solid, full. She looked him in the eye, fully in the eye. She hadn’t done that in a long time, not since … not since she was seventeen. Softly, she said, ‘There comes a time when you know what you’ve done is shameful and you know you can’t go back and change it. And a time when you have to draw a line under it. You have to. To move forward. But from then on, you have to do it different, and say that you’re going to do it different.’

  He kept her gaze, she watched his mouth work silently preparing for a repartee, then he saw her, this time she knew he saw her, having for so long looked over her, around her, through her, anything to avoid seeing, and he stayed silent. She watched his eyes fill with tears and his mouth fill with a silent ‘Sorry, I’m sorry’.

  She thought her knees might buckle beneath her, so heavy did his apology hit her. Her eyes welled. He took a step towards her, his eyes pleading. She stepped back and reached for the door. ‘I’m leaving. It’s up to you what you tell Mum,’ she declared, ‘but I want no further contact with you.’

  Her mother came into the room and Aimee left it. She was free, she’d set herself free. She pushed through the veil, picked up her bags, walked out the front door and drove into the night.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  A sense of expansion suffused Lori’s body and intense colours flashed inside her mind. She noted them but continued to focus on the point of white light at their centre. It was becoming easier to focus, as Aggie had promised it would, although she still enjoyed the vibrant display. She surrendered to the encompassing light, her heart soaring as every cell in her body quickened and she disappeared into the sense of peace flooding through her. When she returned, she completed her early morning ritual, closing down each chakra, then slowly opened her eyes. Regular meditation was not as hard as she’d thought it would be—half an hour each morning before breakfast. And she’d noticed the difference it made; the calmness she’d always felt in her home stayed with her longer.

  Or was she just in love?

  She laughed and jumped up, eager to face the day.

  After a breakfast of Aggie’s apricots and a dollop of plain yoghurt trickled with honey, she showered, a large towel protecting her curls from expanding to twice their size in the mist. She shook her hair free, ran a plastic perm comb through and pulled it up into a loose bun on top of her head. Several ringlets fell around her face. She went to tuck them back in but catching the effect in the mirror, left them. Paddy liked her hair down but it was too hot for work. She was looking forward to the weekend. She’d persuaded Paddy to come with her to the pool tomorrow. He’d finally admitted he couldn’t swim. Typical, she thought, and laughed. She said she’d teach him, at seven in the morning before the crowds and the heat arrived.

  Late as usual, she rushed out the door and sped to work. Pulling into the office compound, she turned on the radio to catch the eight-thirty news and looked over at Aimee’s empty parking space. She left the engine idling, half listening to the headlines, half thinking about Aimee. When she’d visited Aimee at home a thin, veil-like shield seemed to hover between them, thin enough for her to sense something was wrong but clouded with emotions that she could only guess at. She’d respected her friend’s privacy and didn’t try.

  The shock of the stock market crash was still the leading news story, not that she knew much about shares but they were saying the government was in trouble, something about deals with the businessmen, like Bond, going bad. A shiver went down her spine. Someone just walked over my grave, she thought. No, that’s superstition. What was it? She closed her eyes and quietened her mind for a moment. She saw someone standing on a jetty, jumping into the water and sinking to the bottom, then a newspaper headline, ‘Bottom of the Harbour’. What’s that mean? she wondered. Make connections, Aggie would say, it helps make sense of discernment. She’d been thinking about Aimee. What was the link?

  She opened her eyes as the announcer gave the weather forecast—thirty-six degrees. They were in for a hot summer. She looked up at the back door of the office to see Maureen standing staring at her, hands on hips. She looked at her watch—twenty to nine. Whoops, she thought. She turned off the ignition, grabbed her bag and dashed inside. No time for connections.

  Lori took another bite of her sandwich. She’d left her lunchbreak till late in the hope that Patrick would be back from his inter-agency meeting in time to join her. Instead, she was sitting in the staffroom by herself. She missed Daniel, the way she felt around him, the quiet acceptance of their different ways of knowing. Paddy had suggested they visit him next year. She liked the idea of that. She pulled over another chair and put up her feet. Now it was Carol’s last day and Lori had been running up and down stairs all morning helping her clear out her office. She’d miss Carol too.

  ‘It’s a good time to be leaving,’ Carol had said. ‘Things are changing too quickly.’

  ‘I didn’t think I’d hear you complain about change, Carol,’ she’d laughed, stuffing discarded papers into a cardboard box.

  ‘Oh, I’m all for the kind of change that brings more equality but there are changes coming for Adoptions that worry me.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘The future possibility of retrospective provision of information on a child’s birth mother, despite the understanding at the time that it would remain confidential,’ Carol stated, holding her gaze.

  ‘Really? But that would be a breach of agreement. They wouldn’t do that, would they? Where do you want me to put this box?’ she asked.

  ‘Do you mind taking it downstairs and putting it outside the back door?’

  She nodded and turned to go but Carol continued. Lori stopped and balanced the heavy box on one leg, resting her foot on the edge of a chair.

  ‘It’ll be a while, but it’s being talked about. I don’t want to be around when it happens and I have to tell some poor woman her life is about to be wrecked.’

  Her leg hurt but she kept listening, aware of something significant in what Carol was telling her.

  ‘But I won’t be, eh, it’ll be people like you, Lori. Have you got the date for your entrance exams?’ Carol said smiling, changing the subject.

  She felt herself shifting out of focus. A film ran past her eyes and she saw herself in Carol’s chair, a young woman sitting opposite her who looked familiar. Who is she? What does it mean?

  ‘Lori, have you got a date?’ Carol was staring at her.

  ‘Sorry, I was somewhere else. Away with the fairies,’ she laughed, and she had been. ‘Yes, I have a date, the Saturday after the divisional conference next month, so I’ll combine both. But I’m scared stiff.’

  ‘You’ll be right,’ she said, dismissing her fears. ‘Are you going down with Paddy?’ Carol asked, grinning.

  ‘Yes, sticky beak!’ she’d retorted.

  ‘How are things?’

  ‘I’m off. Things to do, people to see,’ she’d evaded, laughing as she hefted up the box and headed out the door. ‘I’ll catch you before you leave, eh.’

  Yes, she would miss Carol, she thought, leaning back in her chair. She took another bite of her salami sandwich, relishing the familiar sharp spicy flavour of her father’s homemade sausage. She tried to recall the vision she’d had in Carol’s office but it was fading, leaving only a vague feeling of unease. Was it a premonition? Would she become a social worker? Or was it symbolic?

  That’s the trouble with clairvoyance, she thought, making sense of what you see. She’d talk about it with Aggie in a few weeks time. Paddy still didn’t know, or her parents. Her sisters did; she’d told them. ‘Hey, Lori, what do you see in mine?’ they kept asking her, shoving their drained t
eacups under her nose. Not that she minded. It was good practice.

  She was about to return to her desk when the tearoom door opened.

  Paddy!

  He glanced behind him and quickly closed the door. She jumped up and embraced him. He nuzzled her neck then kissed her. She leant into him, her face burning, before pulling away.

  ‘Stop, stop, stop. Someone might come in. It’s nearly afternoon tea time.’

  ‘I know, I know, but I’ve missed you. I hoped I’d find you here.’

  They hadn’t been together all week, Patrick at meetings and her at Aimee’s on Tuesday and Kerry’s last night.

  ‘We’ve got tonight and then tomorrow morning I’m going to teach you how not to drown, so don’t forget your bathers,’ she teased, poking him in the ribs. He grabbed her around the waist and was about to kiss her again when she saw the door open. She pushed him away and fell into the seat behind her as Maureen came through the door, cup in hand.

  ‘Oh, I hope I’m not disturbing anything,’ Maureen said curtly, looking from one to the other, ‘I am a little early.’

  ‘No, no, Maureen, of course not,’ Patrick countered, his cheeks shining, ‘I’m about to make a cup of tea myself. I’ll be getting you one while I’m there, Lori.’

  Before she could protest he was out of the room and rattling around in the little kitchen next door. He had returned with two steaming cups of tea when Maureen leant over conspiratorially and said: ‘So, will you be reading Patrick’s tea-leaves, then?’ before drawing back triumphant.

  With a gleeful smile, she continued. ‘I heard from a friend that her neighbour had a tea-leaf reading with a woman called Lori who works at Welfare.’ She leant forward again. ‘Hiding your light under a bush, are we, Lori, or should that be a Bushells,’ she said, chuckling at her own joke. ‘Mind you, you being a Catholic, I must say I was a bit surprised.’

  Lori did not laugh. Nor did Patrick. She looked at his face. He stared at her blankly. The lack of feeling hurt more than if he had glared at her.

  After Maureen left the room, Lori’s desperate attempts to explain were interrupted by others coming in for their break and later, Hayley told her that Patrick had signed out but hadn’t indicated where.

  When Lori left the office, the sun was setting. And Paddy hadn’t returned.

  By the time she welcomed the cool embrace of her home, Lori had made up her mind. If he didn’t accept her for who she was, all of her, she didn’t want to be with him. Maybe it was all too fast, making love, making plans, linking their futures, before they really knew each other. And how else do I expect him to react, she reflected, he is an ex-priest after all? Her Nonna’s words haunted her: ‘Once a priest always a priest.’ Or is it, she suddenly thought, that I didn’t trust him enough to tell him?

  And why hadn’t she, and why hadn’t she told her parents, why was she uncomfortable about it? Why didn’t she stand up for her own beliefs, her own truth? No one could tell her what she had experienced this past year wasn’t real. She knew what she had seen and felt, and she would never deny it, never. She slumped down on her couch and burst into tears. It wasn’t fair. Why had this happened? All she’d ever tried to do was the right thing. She lay back and closed her eyes. Why, when she’d felt closer to spirit than ever, had Paddy found out that way? Why hadn’t she known? And why was Maureen so mean to her? She slumped deeper into the couch heavy with despair, afraid of the decision she’d made to stand up for what she believed in.

  The voice, when it came, sounded at first as if it came from behind her, then it was above her, then all around her, as was the pulsating, billowing sense of the sublime. The feeling washed over her, poured through her and filled every cell of her body with a certainty that, as the voice said:

  All will be well, all will be well, all will be well.

  And for years afterwards Lori knew she had encountered the numinous, the sacred, and nothing would ever be the same again.

  She opened her eyes and for a long time lay still. Later she made a light meal, drank a glass of weak red wine and went to bed early. Before falling asleep, she thought how grateful she was for everything in her life.

  The next morning she awoke early and arrived at the swimming pool as the doors opened. Except for Mr Evans, the pool manager, she was the only one there. It was one of her greatest pleasures, being alone at the pool, looking across at the expanse of crystal clear water, the early summer morning sun’s rays bouncing blinding white off the surface, the air thin and fresh with the smell of the gumtrees in nearby Kingsbury Park, her skin tingling with anticipation of the cool water.

  Lori threw down her towel, ran across the paving and dived in.

  She would be halfway through her second lap before Paddy would walk in and stand, watching, waiting for her return.

  Yes, all would be well, all would be well.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  In a corner of the Foundry Ground thick red dust swirled around the outer walls of the public library, evidence of the council’s defeated attempts to green the perimeter. The car park, stamped in permanent bitumen and shaded by the newly planted gumtrees and bottlebrushes, had been much more successful. A heat haze was already forming above it and a crow, jumping from foot to foot on the hot tar, squawked a dry complaint.

  Kerry leant back in her seat and looked out the car window. In the distance she could see the old monkey bars that she’d hung upside down on as a child while watching her father play cricket in the dirt and daring herself to let go; the old concrete crease was still out there somewhere in the middle. She’d played high school hockey on dirt too, skinning her knees every time she fell over, and she’d run barefoot on it at carnivals. She’d met Paul at a carnival. He was one of the bike riders with their tight muscled legs and lean faces.

  She missed both men.

  It would be a year next month since Paul died. And they still had Christmas to get through—Amber’s first Christmas without him.

  She sighed and wiped sweat from her forehead. Since telling Amber she was adopted, they had taken to curling up on the bed together and talking, with Amber asking constant questions about Paul—how had he reacted when he first saw her and when they’d brought her home. They’d pored over photo albums together, Amber staring at each photo of Paul holding her, seeking assurance that he loved her as much as she thought he did—before she knew.

  For that was the most important thing Amber needed—to know that Paul, and Kerry, loved her.

  She knew from Aimee, and the books she’d read, there’d be difficult times ahead but they’d get through them. If they could get through this year they could face whatever lay ahead. Some days, she wished Aimee was there to encourage her, to remind her to trust herself. She hadn’t seen her in two months, since Amber’s birthday party, the day after the election results. While Aimee was on leave, a new worker had called around and she had to agree she didn’t really need ongoing family support; the worker was lovely but not like Aimee. It had been confirmed a few weeks ago by a departmental letter from Aimee. Kerry had rung up the same day and spoken with her briefly but Aimee was about to go into a meeting, she said, and had to run.

  Amber kept reminding her that she still hadn’t got her birthday present from Aimee. She knew it was more about seeing Aimee than the present. Aimee had left in such a hurry that day; Lori had run in and grabbed Aimee’s bag and Amber never did get her present.

  It’s odd that Aimee hasn’t popped in, she thought. She closed her eyes and wondered whether to do anything about it. She supposed she could always ask Lori.

  ‘G’day, Kerry, having a little nap, are we?’

  She lurched upright. ‘Oh, Suzie, sorry, no, just thinking.’

  She looked up at her boss, briefcase in hand, her short, fair hair styled, her linen shirt and trousers crisp. Organised. She liked that about Suzanne, and wanted to be more that way herself. She’d been practising, at the council meetings.

  The librarian smiled and opened the car door.
‘Come on. Let’s get into the cool. It’s going to be a scorcher.’

  She followed Suzanne into the foyer and stood behind her while she unlocked the front door. The balm of cool air from the refrigerated air-conditioning anointed her body upon entering, and along with the smell of books, reminded her why she loved coming to work.

  ‘Mind you, if you were taking a nap, I could hardly blame you,’ Suzanne commented as they set up the counter for customers. ‘How is it going with the council? What time did you get home last night, are they still going late?’

  ‘Yeh, and if it weren’t for Mum minding Amber, I couldn’t do it. It’s all right for them, they’re all blokes. Bill reckons I should say something, have it start earlier, but it’s hard enough as it is getting them to listen to me. Give me time but, I’ll find a way. I’m stickin’ with it.’

  She grabbed a pile of books from the after-hours chute and together they started sorting.

  ‘Well, well, someone’s been busy,’ Suzanne chuckled, picking up two books lying on top of each other. ‘Here, you might like to read one of these.’ She passed over two well-thumbed paperbacks.

  ‘The Female Eunuch and The Women’s Room,’ Kerry read aloud. ‘Any good?’

  ‘Read them and see,’ Suzanne answered, her eyes sparkling. ‘There’s plenty more if you’re interested. I read them years ago.’ Suzanne looked past her to the closed front door. ‘Can you believe it, they’re lining up already. Do you think it’s the books or the air-conditioning?’

  They both laughed.

  A thick haze of dust and heat blanketed the flats and blurred the Golden Mile as Kerry drove through Williamstown. Sweat dripped down her back. She wriggled her shoulders in an effort to stop her shirt from sticking to the car seat. Leaving the library in the heat of the day was not her preferred choice but the part-time hours meant she was home in time for Amber. On Amber’s after-school sports days she stayed in the cool a bit longer, using the time to search the shelves for new books.