Secrets of the Weeping Willow
Page 16
How could she have missed this? It was in front of her always, immersing her in its corrupted lies., stealing her identity, obscuring her past. The signs were there, always there. She just chose to live the lie, letting it embrace her, comfort her, when the truth was too painful to face. Her vision from the other night was made more real.
She knew what needed to be done. The mystery of her past within her grasp, just a heartbeat away, the shadows were slowly lifting, like fog off of a lake in the early dawn. Elizabeth could feel her body shake as the shock slowly sank deep, the room grew colder the more the truth enveloped her, her name being called from far away, not her name, the chattering of her teeth painful.
A touch on her shoulder brought her back from her decline into the past. Elizabeth looked over at Gloria, whose thick-rimmed glasses obscured concerned brown eyes. Relief filled her, taking away some of her pain as she took Gloria’s softly aged hand into hers. Her words soft and gentle, “Are you all right, dear?”
“No,” Elizabeth said simply as she looked back at the screen. “But... I will be.” She answered as she looked back at Gloria, “Is there a way I could print off this article?” Calmness settled over her with her decision and what she needed to do before she continued with what needed to be done.
Chapter 20
Elizabeth was unsure how long it had taken her to get from the library to the hotel. Her mind had been in such a state of turmoil, she couldn’t remember the steps she had taken. She felt the anger pool in her veins like acid, her steps had quickened with a sense of purpose, a different type of direction than she had just a mere couple hours prior.
Her mind so engrossed in her own inner turmoil, she did not hear Bill, the front desk clerk, calling her until she paused just before the elevator. She forced a deep breath into her lungs in an attempt to calm her nerves that had raged in her with each step she had taken from the library.
Elizabeth rolled her shoulders in an attempt to relax, hoping it would lessen the anger that she knew must be radiating from her. But, the look of shock that passed across Bill’s face reflected her lack of success.
Bill’s voice hesitant as he spoke, “Sorry to disturb you, Ms. Janson but I let a woman, who said was your mother, into your room... I hope this was okay?”
Elizabeth laughed, the sound harsh even to her own ears, as she thought of the ironic situation she found herself in. She lifted her hand as she answered, “Oh, no. That is just perfect, perfect. You don’t know how perfect that is.” She chuckled as she turned, wondering if she looked crazy to him, as he was the same man who had come to her room the night she smashed all the glasses in the room. His eyes reflected a look of weary, as his face remained neutral. He most likely believed her mother was here to take her to a loony bin, but oh how wrong he was.
Her heels clicked sharply on the ceramic floor as she walked away, her anger returning along with a determination for answers the very woman in her room had denied her for so many years. Now Elizabeth could see why, but there was so much more she needed to know. She pressed the up button on the elevator as she formulated what she going to say and do. Irritated at the slowness of the elevator, her frustration seemed to consume her as she thought of all the years she had been deceived and wondering how she had missed it. Now, in hindsight, she could see what had been obvious for so long.
Elizabeth stepped through the door of her room, her heart stopping for a moment when she saw her supposable mother, Rita, sitting innocently on the sofa. A natural, polished grace radiated from her, her black hair with strands of grey highlighted a stylish short bob. Her face and body still had a youthful appearance with high cheekbones and a trim figure. Greenish grey eyes curved upwards at the outer corners, lighting up when she saw Elizabeth standing at the door.
Her mother stood quickly as she rushed over to Elizabeth, her composure fallen in her obvious pleasure to see her as she pulled her into her arms. Elizabeth’s mind was disbelieving as she played over what she discovered in the library. The current interaction made her feel removed from the situation as the anger slowly weaned from her, it felt for a moment as if someone else stood within her skin accepting her mothers embrace as she stood stoically in her mothers…wait…not her mother’s arms. She thought as she pushed away from her, she had to remind herself of this, wondering how she could have been so wrong about someone she trusted so completely.
Rita stepped back a step further, her fingers cool as she lifted Elizabeth chin with her finger tips, but in defiance Elizabeth refused to lift her eyes as she kept them downcast, not yet ready to look into this woman’s lying eyes, afraid she would break, crumple, and become unable to say what needed to say.
After what felt like a lifetime but was only mere moments, Elizabeth finally stepped around Rita, her shoulder pulled close to herself in a purposeful attempt to avoid any further contact with her. She needed space to think this out more clearly. She had been so angry when she discovered what she had, that she had not taken in the ramification of actually seeing her mother… unable to think of her as anything else. Instead, her mind betrayed her at every turn of events in her life as she threw the article onto the coffee table. The sofa sank under her when she fell back onto it, her breath ragged, her emotions scattered like a leaf in a brisk fall wind.
She had felt such defiance before she walked through the door, ready to yell and scream, to throw the truth into her mother Rita’s, face, letting her know she knew. But the sight of her mother’s, she means Rita’s, joy shattered her plan, her anger replaced by a hurt. Elizabeth’s mind went to all the times this woman had held her close when nightmares woke her in a cold sweat. This was the same woman who had encouraged her and loved her.
Yet...this was also the same woman who kept this astronomic secret from her, beyond her comprehension, who stole her life, manipulated her memories, her dreams, and protected a secret that at times felt as though it would shatter Elizabeth’s life into pieces.
How long she sat there before she felt herself calm, Elizabeth wasn’t sure. The room was quiet, during this time, the sounds of her own breath her only sense of life, the tension heavy as it weighed down on her shoulders.
Elizabeth finally lifted her eyes to look directly at Rita who still stood at the door, tears silently running down her face. Elizabeth looked away quickly before the sight began to influence her further. She cleared her throat before she asked what had brought her to New Orleans on her vacation. And was surprised by the lack of emotions in her voice.
Rita slowly stepped closer, her face a reflection of pain that marred her classic look of elegance. Elizabeth felt guilt consume her as she watched her mother fight back further tears. The sight made her stomach churn as she turned away once more, her eyes drawn back to the article, the picture filled her with anger and injustice again.
Rita’s voice hesitant, “Where is Aurora?”
“That is not what I asked.” Elizabeth said, as she gritted her teeth in rebound anger, “What brings you here, Mother? Or should I just call you Rita?” She asked the word sharp and sarcastic.
“I hadn’t heard from you....I was worried.” She said softly.
Elizabeth laughed sarcastically, “You were worried. I wonder what you could have been worried about?” Elizabeth said, as she picked up the article to throw it at her. “Could this be what you were worried about?”
Elizabeth watched as Rita looked down at the papers, her face grew a pale pasty white as she nervously twisted her hands.
Elizabeth reached forward to pick up the article from the coffee table, her steps harsh on the rug as she stepped over to Rita thrusting the papers at her. Rita took a step back, her hands pulled behind her back as if she was afraid to touch the paper, her head shook negatively back and forth as she bit her lower lip.
Elizabeth bent her head down so she can look directly into her eyes, “Do you perhaps know what is written on these papers?” She asked coldly.
“Do what?” Elizabeth said violently, “face the truth? Oh, that is right. You don’t know what the truth is, do you?” Rita silent. “Well, I’ll read you the truth.”
Elizabeth read the words in the article, anger and sorrow consuming her with every sentence, their impact numbing, creating an even deeper void of emotions. Elizabeth found her voice hollow, as though someone else was speaking other than herself.
The article described the death of a young twelve-year-old girl, Elizabeth Janson. Elizabeth died from a mysterious illness that had taken her life suddenly and violently, the cause unknown at that time. It then went on to describe the mother’s hysterics from the death, and how she was hospitalized for shock, the death of her daughter too much to handle. The mother, Ms. Rita Janson, was a single mother who had no other family. The father of the young girl was unknown. The article then went on to state that the investigation was still open for the cause of the young girl’s death, but foul play was most likely not a factor.
Rita stopped the cruel words, as she threw up her hands for her to stop reading, collapsing on the chair adjacent to the sofa. Her voice soft, full of pain, “Elizabeth you need to understand.”
Elizabeth’s throat was tight with the sting of betrayal. “Yes, I do need to understand. I need to know how you could keep this from me.” Elizabeth raised her hand to stop her. “No....let me continue. I have lived the past nine years in a fog, with no beginning, a part of me missing, tormenting me, and haunting me. I kept asking you over and over what the dreams meant…and you kept lying to me over and over again. That woman in my dreams, she wasn’t my nanny was she?”
Rita shook her head negatively.
“Was she my....” Elizabeth felt her words catch…unable at first to say the words she always knew to be true. “Was she my real mother?”
Rita dabbed a tissue to her cheeks, catching the tears as she shrugged her shoulders in uncertainty. “I’m not sure.”
Elizabeth felt her the anger rise again, replacing the sadness that had started to settle down and around her. Her voice rose in frustration, “What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“Just what I’m saying, I don’t know. I never met or knew your real mother. You were a broken young girl when I found you, on the side of the road.” She said through tears.
The words Rita spoke were true, she had seen this at the library when she had first seen the article but it also sprang forward another memory long forgotten.
The branches whipped past her violently as they ripped at her clothes and skin. The pain barely noticeable, as adrenalin pumped her legs quicker through the murky night, the moon just a sliver in the sky to guide her. She knew she must get help, she must get help, her mommy was in danger-the blood. The blood had been everywhere. It had coated the hardwood floor, seeped into the crack. But she had done as she had been told, she ran from the man who used to live with them. She knew she must find someone to help her.
He was the same man they had run from before, but this time he found them. Her mom had told her he might, so she had told her about the weeping willow. If she could only remember the secret her mom had told her about the weeping willow?
The earth fell away from her as she fell, her stomach filled her throat as she screamed. The sound ripped through the weeds, as she felt the black void take over the pain. Her body hurt.
The bed she was lying in was soft and warm, but it didn’t ease her pain.
Rita sat next to her, a wash cloth in her hand as she smiled down, her eyes kind.
She felt a fear fill her as she jerked away, her eyes flying around the room, looking for anything familiar, “Who are you?” Remembering only great fear-that she must run from the danger.
Rita’s voice soft, “now honey, you have just been through quite an ordeal. Lay back down now. Rest.”
Her mind had searched to remember who she was, where she was but only came up blank. She had looked back at Rita confused, “Are you my mother?” The woman’s eyes opened wide in surprise.
“Don’t you remember?”
“No,” She said as tears gathered in her throat.
“Well, get some rest. Maybe tomorrow will bring it back.” She said as she leaned down to kiss her forehead her lips soft as they brushed against her skin. “You’re safe now. Nothing bad will happen to you here.” The strange words relaxed her, but didn’t total erase her fear.
The vision ended just as quickly as it started, but now her mind let her see some of the truth. The pain behind her eyes, just as violent as before, feeling arms around her, letting them comfort her. As she processed the brief memory, her voice hoarse, “It was my mother. I remember now. I now can acknowledge the fact. I was running for help when you found me...I must have fallen into something. I can remember falling, just before...” Elizabeth paused as she thought over everything.
Elizabeth slowly became conscious of Rita holding her head against her breast as she stroked her forehead, same as when she was little and woke from a bad dream. But, this time was different, she wasn’t waking from a nightmare, she was living the nightmare and she now could see clearly what Rita had done those many years ago. Elizabeth felt viciousness rise in her as she cruelly asked, “How long after you found me, did you decide to give me the identity of your dead daughter?”
Elizabeth felt beneath her cheek Rita’s heart jump as a sharp breath escaped her lips, her hands strong as they push Elizabeth back, just before she reached out to strike Elizabeth across the cheek. Elizabeth’s ears rang as felt the pain radiate into her jaw.
Elizabeth lifted her hand to touch the warm mark the slap had left, her jaw moving to lessen the pain left behind. She pulled herself up from the sofa and walked to the little kitchenette, the air heavy with unsaid words. She dropped several ice cubes into a stout glass, listening to the cracking of the ice as they came into contact with the warm bottle water.
Elizabeth hand paused as she brought it to her lips when Rita started to speak, her voice hesitant. “I was just sixteen when Elizabeth was born, a kid myself. My parents were blue bloods, old money, and very conservative. They blamed each other for my pregnancy, neither wanting to destroy their social stature in the community. I was always their problem child. I always wondered why they had any children, as it seemed I was always an inconvenience to them.”
“I thought you were an orphan...Sorry that was a lie also I’m sure. So...Why are you telling me this?”
“No I wasn’t an orphan, but I may as well have been one. I’m not trying to make you feel sorry for me. I’ve made bad choices and I must live with them. But, most of all I need you to hear what I have to say so you can hopefully understand somewhat, why I did what I did. You need to know a little of what my life was like, my frame of mind was, before I found you on that dark night.”
Elizabeth walked further into the room and sat on the edge of the couch her hand shook slightly as she offered Rita the glass of water. “Okay, I’m ready to listen.”
Rita accepted the glass and drank the cool liquid greedily before finally clearing her throat, her words cracking slightly, “Elizabeth was always a sickly child, right from birth. But I loved her more than life itself, she was my salvation.”
Rita smiled a private smile as she swirled the ice in the glass before looking up at Elizabeth. Sadness emanated from her. “My parents would have nothing to do with me as long as I kept her, they were furious that I disobeyed their order to ‘get rid of the brat’.” A sob came out with this last remark. “I even went to their home begging them to see their granddaughter. I thought they would change their mind if they just saw how beautiful and sweet she was. But I was never let into the gate, disowned through the speaker box on the drive. They sent their lawyers with papers for me to sign, officially disowning me, with a buyout of a half a million. I guess that is all they tho
ught I was worth or maybe they didn’t want to feel guilt if they left me penniless.”
When Rita paused, Elizabeth looked up realizing her anger had subsided into a hollow disbelief, her mother’s words played on her already fragile emotions
Then Rita smiled sadly as she continued, “Elizabeth’s father was from a poor family. He was my first love, my only love. It didn’t matter to me that he was poor. I just saw someone who treated me like I was something special. I quickly found out that it wasn’t me who he thought was special it was what I brought with me. When he found out I was disowned, he...” Rita breath caught, “he called me a whore and insisted that Elizabeth wasn’t his. I begged him, showing him how much we needed him. But he turned his back on us. After that time I quickly learned how cruel life could be. Where before doors were opened with a flash of wealth, now with little money I found doors slammed in my face and avenues blocked.”
Rita stood as she wrung her hands together. “It’s ironic it was never their money I wanted, it was always their love.” Smiling as she raised her water to the ceiling, “This I finally found with my little girl. We moved often as I attempted to get my little girl the very best medical help, trying different specialists throughout the country. Working at a variety of jobs in hopes of stretching the money farther, but even then it seemed to go so quickly. I didn’t trust easily, so I was never able to get close to any one person.”
Elizabeth found herself fascinated with this part of her mother’s life, about which she knew nothing. Hesitant to interrupt, but needing to know more, “What did she have that made her so sick?”
“A rare type of immune disease.”
“Is that what she finally died from?”