After they’d eaten dessert, Ellen took pity on her. “Okay, kids. You’ll get to spend all day tomorrow with your Aunt Robin. It’s time to do the dishes, then go to your rooms, as usual, to do your homework, read and wind down.”
They moaned but went to work. She was happy they hadn’t asked about her family. She would tell Ted sometime over the weekend, but she had many questions for him and she didn’t want to get sidetracked. Once the kids were settled in their rooms, the three adults moved into the Florida room with coffee.
Ted took what she assumed was his chair, the recliner, and watched her and Ellen settle on the sofa. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you here. Why did you decide to come home now?”
Home. She repeated the word in her mind. Was Florida home? She’d never thought so, but she felt comfortable sitting here with her older brother and his wife. “To be frank, my therapist suggested that it was time that I reconnect with my family. I have no memories of my early years, of our mother, nothing actually before I was a little younger than Sara.” She took a deep breath. “Lately, I’ve been having disturbing dreams that Olivia, my therapist, thinks might be memories.”
Ellen’s quick intake of breath and the look she exchanged with Ted made Robin feel she had hit a nerve. But she’d come to learn about her family so she pushed on. “I’d love to hear about our childhood, about what our mother died of and when, and anything else you can tell me.”
Ted cleared his throat. “Funny, I’ve always thought it was the memories that kept you away.”
Robin tensed. “No. I…there didn’t seem to be anything or anyone here for me. Dad let me take a plane to Harvard alone at fourteen, with a few dollars and nothing but some shorts, T-shirts, a pair of jeans and sandals. He never called to see if I made it or if I needed anything, like winter clothes or a coat or a hat or boots. I figured he didn’t care. You and Paul were away and not in contact. Frankly, I didn’t think you cared either.”
She looked down at her hands. “The only one I knew cared was Barbara, the teacher who mentored me and helped me get into Harvard, and she died shortly after I started at Harvard. But she’d made sure I was taken care of. Since I had just turned fourteen, she pressured the dean of students at Harvard to arrange for an older student to look after me. And Katie and the other four roommates in our suite took good care of me. Katie is only eight years older than me, but she’s the closest thing I’ve had to a mother in my life. At least a mother I remember. She’s also my business partner.”
He looked pained, as if he wanted to cry. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Robin. I spent a lot of time in therapy dealing with that, but I was a teenager, involved in my own things.”
“I didn’t come here to make you feel guilty, Ted. You’re not that much older than I am and whatever you did, I’m sure it was more than he did.” She walked to the recliner, placed her hands on the arms and leaned toward him. She locked onto his eyes, trying to connect, to make him understand. “You know my history, Ted, and I need you to share it with me. All of it, even if it’s bad or I did a terrible thing.” He touched her face. “I understand.”
Robin returned to the sofa and leaned forward with her hands clasped between her knees. “What was I like as a kid?”
He sat back and sipped his coffee. She’d noticed there was no alcohol at dinner, so he was aware of the danger. “Actually, you were very much like our two girls. I’m sure you notice they look exactly like you, same hair, same eyes, same lanky body, but what you can’t see by looking is they have the same raw intellect, the same extremely high IQ. Like you, they both taught themselves to read, but you were well under a year and they were closer to two.
“You’re only six years older than me. How can you remember when I started to read?”
“Our mom had baby books for each of us. I’ll give you yours later. Unfortunately she didn’t make any entries for you after you were about nine months, but she did note that you started reading around six months and the last entry was about you starting to write.” He sipped his coffee.
“Do you remember that you used to steal books from me and Paul? You read any book you could get your hands on—textbooks, fiction, history, picture books, anything. You asked for books on subjects that interested you, which was almost everything, and I got them out of the library. Our three are the same. They gobble up every book in sight and are interested in everything.”
She laughed. “I lived in a suite with five roommates at Harvard and for the first month they’d wander around the suite yelling ‘Has anybody seen my, you name it, textbook?’ They quickly learned that it probably was in my room. Where do the kids go to school?”
“Right now to the neighborhood public school, but we’ve been putting money away so we can send them to this really good school for special kids like them. Hopefully, we’ll be able to afford to send Sara next term. Vicki and Teddie will have to wait. But you did all right without a special school.”
“It’s true, but I might have had an easier time in a special school.”
“You didn’t even go to school until you were seven or eight.”
“Really? Why?”
“She never enrolled you, so you weren’t on anyone’s radar. Paul and I were too young to think about things like that. And Dad never paid much attention to you and didn’t notice. The woman he paid to cook and clean after Mom died thought you were retarded because you hid in your room most of the time and hardly spoke. But then you got sick and she had to take you to the pediatrician and I think it was someone in his office who figured it out and got the authorities involved.”
“Why did I hide? Didn’t I speak to you?”
They exchanged that look again.
“I can see there’s something you two are hiding. You might as well just tell me.”
Ellen touched Ted’s arm. “She needs to know, hon.”
He got up, walked to the window and stood half-turned away from her. “When you were six, our mom killed our sister and herself in front of you.” He spoke quickly as if he wanted to get it over with.
Her blood drained to her feet. The image of the swinging baby and the gunshot to the mouth filled her mind. Her heart raced. She breathed quickly, but she couldn’t take in air fast enough. She started to stand but fell back. Ellen moved next to her and put an arm over her shoulder. “Try to relax, Robin.” She put a hand on Robin’s chest and raised Robin’s chin with her other hand. “Keep your chin up to clear your airway. Breathe. That’s it.”
It took a minute, but she calmed down. A sister. She massaged her temples. “I didn’t know we had a sister.”
She watched Ted sort through his words before speaking. “Rosaria.” He smiled. “By the way, that was supposed to be your name, but Dad was drunk and couldn’t remember the name Mom had selected so the nurse asked me if I knew. I remembered Ann was the middle name, then I decided you were like a little bird, so I said Robin. Dad of course didn’t remember and took the heat when she found out.”
Robin grinned. “Thank you for that, big brother.” She walked over and high-fived him.
He put his arm around Robin. “Rosaria was three months premature, but our mother insisted on bringing her home from the hospital against doctor’s orders. Dad, of course, supported anything she wanted. Anyway, the baby was so small she carried her on a pillow and wouldn’t put her down. She stopped cooking or doing anything other than holding the baby and trying to feed her. The baby cried, actually sort of mewled like a kitten, constantly. One day she took the baby by the feet and—”
“Swung her and smashed her head on the table, then put a gun in her mouth and killed herself.”
“You remember?”
“No. Or yes, I guess. That was the nightmare I was having, over and over again. And the image I would see whenever I let my guard down.” She went limp with relief, and Ted helped her to the sofa before continuing.
“Mom was scary. Paul and I would do anything to stay out of the house, so it was late that
day when we got home from after-school activities—about six—and found you sitting next to her in the dark kitchen holding her hand. You weren’t crying. You were covered in blood and brains.”
“In my dream she says, ‘You made me do it’ just before she put the gun in her mouth. I guess Olivia was right. It was a memory.”
Ted nodded. “They said she died between eight and ten in the morning, probably not long after we left for school. The coroner’s report said you must have been standing close because you had the baby’s tissue and her tissue on your face, in your hair and on your clothing. It also said she was drunk and had taken some pills. The police report concluded that you’d sat with her all day until we got home. You were withdrawn and sad after that, as one might expect.”
“Why did she hate me so much that she said it was my fault, then killed herself in front of me? Who does that to a six-year-old?”
He shrugged. “Paul and I got the best of her. She was a fun and loving mom, she’d laugh and play and sing most of the time, but even then, from time to time she’d suddenly get moody and distant. As I understand it, she was warned not to have any more children after Paul, but she wanted a girl and Dad gave in to her like he did on everything. I think she had serious psychological issues that were exacerbated by giving birth to you. After you were born, the good mom disappeared. Paul and I learned quickly to stay out of her way as she walked around the house cursing and mumbling, but she was indifferent to us. All her rage and frustration and nastiness were focused on you.”
He sat next to Robin and took her hand. “She was mentally ill. It’s not unusual for one child to become the focus of parental craziness. Though I was only six when you were born, her behavior toward you was so erratic, almost violent, that I have clear memories of it and I understood even then that you weren’t the cute little girl she wanted. Don’t get me wrong, as you’ll see when we look at pictures, you were a beautiful kid, but you were tall and gangly for your age, you had a mind of your own, you refused to wear dresses and you insisted on short hair.” He smiled. “In fact, you cut it yourself with scissors or even a knife if that’s all you had when you decided it was too long. She criticized everything you did, called you a freak, neither a girl nor a boy, and said you were ugly and stupid. I wish I had stopped her, but I guess a part of me was happy it was you and not me.”
“You were a baby yourself, Ted, what could you have done against your mother? But what about him?”
“She could do no wrong in his eyes. Even today, when he’s sober enough to talk, he’ll make excuses for her murdering her child. He can’t stand to see my girls and will probably reject you. You all look like her.”
“I had no idea. I don’t remember ever seeing a picture of her.”
“Except for your height, you’re the spitting image of her. I thought you might want some family pictures so I had copies made for you. The kids are making an album for you to take with you. It should be ready before you leave.”
“Thank you, I would love to have some pictures for my…You were talking about how she treated me.”
“Right. Until the baby came, it was almost a game for you. Maybe even negative attention was better than being ignored, but you seemed to enjoy provoking her. Sometimes she chased you with a kitchen knife. You would get close, then when she tried to grab you, you would run away, laughing, and hide in one of the many secret places you’d found. Once the baby was in the house, you stayed just out of her reach but watched her constantly.”
“Do you think I killed the baby?”
“No. I have all the reports and I had copies of everything made for you. I’ll give them to you when you leave later and you can read them whenever you feel like, but it’s very clear from the angles, etc., that she did it. I think you were fascinated by the baby and maybe a little jealous.”
Bombarded with feelings that she needed to process, Robin stood. “I need some time to absorb all of this, so I’m going back to the hotel. But we’re spending the day together tomorrow, right? I’d love for all of you to join me for breakfast at the hotel around ten.”
Ted turned to Ellen. She smiled. “We’d love to have breakfast. The kids are willing to get up early to be with their newly found auntie. I’ll bring bathing suits and things so we can sit on the beach while you two get some alone time. Are you all right to drive, Robin?”
“Don’t worry. It will be a while before I fall asleep.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Florida
Rather than go up to her room, she handed the doorman her car keys and set out along the nearly deserted beach, enjoying the pleasant night air and the soothing sound of the ocean, trying to absorb all she’d heard tonight. After walking an hour, she sat on a bench facing the water and called Katie. With Jan conferenced in, she told them about the kids, Ellen and Ted, the visit and the photo album that would give her some of her missing family history. She left out the gruesome details. It was Olivia she wanted to share that with. And Lily. She selected Lily’s name from her contact list, wanting to call her, wanting to hear her voice, to tell her she wasn’t crazy and wasn’t going to kill their daughter. But she knew in her heart that she still had work to do with Olivia before she could be with her wife and daughter. If they would have her.
The next morning, when she met Ted and his family at the entrance to the hotel’s restaurant, Paul, a thinner version of Ted, was with them. They eyed each other nervously for a few seconds, then moved into an awkward hug. “Thanks for coming, Paul. I’ve been anxious to meet you.”
“Yeah, me too. It’s been too long. Sorry I never tried to contact you.”
“Hey, we’re all guilty of that, so let’s just go from here.”
They were seated at a large round table with a lot of shuffling so the two girls could sit on either side of their auntie. Teddie, her nephew, eyed her across the table—too cool at ten to fight his sisters just to sit next to his exotic aunt. She made a mental note to give him some special attention.
They studied their menus and ordered. When she looked up from her menu, Paul was staring at her. She flushed. He looked away.
There was an awkward silence, then Ellen spoke. “Since you called on Wednesday, the children have been working on making a family album for you.”
She noticed that Ellen always included Teddie, but Ted focused mainly on the girls. Was that because he wanted to share how much like her they were? Or guilt for not being there for his little sister? Or pride because of their brilliance, though it seemed Teddie was no slouch in the brains department?
“That sounds wonderful. I can’t wait to see it. And I’d love to know how you three are dividing the work amongst you. Let’s start with Teddie. What are you doing?” With that they were off and running, taking turns talking about what they were doing. Ellen met her eyes across the table and smiled.
When they’d eaten, the kids were anxious to get to the beach, and Robin gave Ellen the key to her suite so they could change into bathing suits. Robin and her brothers went for a walk.
After a few minutes, Paul broke the silence. “You look exactly like her. I know I was staring, but looking at you brings back feelings, bad feelings. She terrified me. I remember feeling relieved when she focused her craziness totally on you, but then as I got older, I also felt guilty.”
Robin spread her hands. ”I’m sorry, Paul. I hope with time you’ll see me, not her.”
He nodded. “To this day I have nightmares about finding you with her that afternoon, the baby’s head split open like a broken doll, our mother’s face half-gone, you sitting next to her, holding her hand and cradling the remains of her head in your lap.”
She stopped walking. “I had her head in my lap?”
Her brothers both nodded.
She tried to imagine what her six-year-old self felt, holding her dead mother’s hand and staring at her half-face all day, but she could only dredge up deep sadness and a sense of loss. Even more devastating was the irony that, according to Ted, her
mother seemed to hate her. But as he said, negative attention must have been better than not being seen at all. Her heart ached for that child. Oh, God, was she doing the same to Jess?
They walked on, one on either side of her, not speaking, feeling the shared sadness and the horror. “Did we get any counseling to help us deal with what we’d seen?”
“No.” Ted was the one who answered her. “Things were different back then. They thought if no one mentioned it, we’d forget.”
“No one noticed I was catatonic? And you two must have acted out in some way after.”
“Our dad was barely around, and when he was the liquor made him more catatonic than any of us. I don’t think he even saw us.” Paul’s laugh was harsh. “And the woman he paid to clean and cook and supposedly take care of us was a drunk too so forget her noticing anything.”
“I’m sorry to bring these memories back for you two, but I really need to know.”
Paul touched her shoulder. “It’s not like I ever forgot, Robin. Her suicide sent me on a downward spiral that I’m just climbing out of now. I became a problem at school and was suspended so many times I lost count. After a while, they stopped calling him in because they figured out he didn’t care, and the goal became to pass me onto the next school.”
He wiped a tear away. “I got caught stealing a car at sixteen and they threw me out of high school. The detective who worked her murder and suicide intervened and convinced the judge to let me live with him and his family until I was old enough to enlist in the Navy. Of course, our father had no objection.” He blew his nose.
Maybe remembering was worse than forgetting. She put a hand on Paul’s arm. “How long were you in the Navy?”
“Ten years. It was good. I got my GED, began to take college classes and started to get my head turned around a little. Right after I left the Navy, I went into therapy. With the support of Eric, the detective, and Ted, I was able to finish my bachelor’s degree in math and get accepted into the PhD program in physics at Miami U. Luckily, the few professors still there who recognized the DiLuca name, seem to remember his brilliance, not his drinking.” He smiled. “I’m starting to feel a glimmer of hope.”
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