Secrets of the Weeping Willow

by Kathleen Anastasia

  Because what he had been able to learn was even more beneficial, it placed his elusive little bird alone for the first time since he had seen her on the boardwalk. He had held back his elation when Aurora informed him that Elizabeth was angry with Leo at the moment; he had hoped this meant that she would attempt to come out here alone. He smiled at his accurate assumptions when she had driven up.

  He had known if Sara had done her job right, which he had no doubt that she would, then this would be the next stop that Elizabeth would make to retrieve that which he desired.

  He settled into the chair in the attic, listening to the sounds of Elizabeth walking through the door, her slight scream of fear, then burst of laughter before he heard her hesitant steps going up the stairs, wondering momentarily if she was losing her touch on reality. He hoped not, or not before he was able to learn what she knew and what her mother had done with what she had stolen from him, or should he say what Julia had convinced her mother to steal and hide from him. The information destructive on so many levels, he never could feel totally secure until it was back in his possession.

  He had known when she entered her bedroom and how long she stayed before she walked back down the stairs to the dining room where he had taught her mother her final lesson or so he had thought at the time, only understanding later, that it had been he who had been played by his Lily’s manipulative daughter.

  The sounds of tears filled the house. I understand my little destructive bird he thought, ‘I mourn her loss also; she was an exception in so many ways. But it is your fault, after all, it was always you that tainted your beautiful mother against me and made me do what I had to do.’ He shook his head in disgust.

  When he heard the back door open, he stepped quickly to the corner of the window to watch her force open the shed, then walk out with a shovel in hand. He rubbed his hands in pleasure as he realized that he was on the brink of uncovering were Lily had hidden his secrets.

  Roger watched as she walked a couple times around the tree, obviously looking for something, before she finally started to dig. Not wanting to interrupt the process, he sat back down to close his eyes and wait. He was a patient man; he had not come this far only to ruin it by being too impatient. He opened his eyes once more when he heard laughter drift up to where he sat. He walked back to the window as he watched her dig on her knees, her movements almost frantic.

  He stepped back into the shadows when he saw her pause in her movement, her eyes looking around. Not wanting to be caught watching, he needed her to feel safe and continue with her search so he could retrieve what he needed before eliminating her also. Relieved when she turned back to the hole to reach forward before she fell back with a small box in her hands, her hands brushed the dirt from it, before she dropped down to her knees, her eyes looking away from the house.

  Roger frowned when he saw the direction she looked; reminding him of the night he had thrown Lily into the water and the sadness he had felt. He had never had love or felt love in his life, and had only come close to it with Lily. This he had only realized after he had made his mistake and killed the wrong person; the thought filled him with renewed vengeance towards Elizabeth as he looked down on her.

  He could still remember clearly how it happened, he had believed that his Lily had turned on him and taken the one thing that could destroy him. He had been beyond angry with her, unable to see beyond the cloud of anger at her betrayal. He had taken his revenge before he obtained what he had come for.

  He had seen the error of his judgment only after he had thrown her into the water, as his eyes had then been drawn up towards the window where she stood in the frame of the window, her young eyes staring at him, all-knowing. He knew in that moment that he would have to take care of Julia; but not before she revealed that which Lily would not and now could not tell him.

  He had watched her standing so smug in the window watching him, as a revelation struck him, that it was she who had tainted his Lily against him, it had always been her. She was the bad seed who had manipulated what happened to her advantage and exacted a plan to poison his Lily against him; he had punished the wrong person. She had forced this to happen; the thought filling him with a blind rage as he vowed to avenge his Lily. Elizabeth had been the sole reason Lily had turned on him and he would show her the price of her mistake before it was all said and done.

  This renewed memory filled him once more with raw anger towards Elizabeth as he clenched his hand watching her look around herself before she stood to enter the house once more. Just a few more minutes he thought, and then he would confront her and all her lies. But he would not make the same mistakes of the past…he would have exactly what he needed before he exacted his revenge.

  Chapter 35

  She hoped the candles her mother had kept would still be where she had left them and not used up or taken by loiterers who had trashed the house. Elizabeth dumped the safety box on the island in the darkened kitchen as she jumped onto the counter next to the old refrigerator. Her hand reached blindly into the cabinet above it for the emergency stock of candles her mother had always kept for the many power outages they had. Her luck holding when she felt the familiar objects, her fingers closed around the stock wax sticks as she pulled them out; followed by the matches. Elizabeth was glad now her mother was someone who always felt like she needed to be prepared for the inevitable. She smiled as she kissed them before jumping off the counter.

  Elizabeth brought the candles and the box into the dining room, lighting several of them as she placed them on the hutch to better light the room. She then sat cross-legged on the floor with the box in front of her, as she moved a candle closer to see the combination box clearer. She swore under her breath when she thought of all the possible combination of numbers it could have, trying to remember what her mother had said about it, before she had buried it.

  Her hands raw with the broken blisters, she used a towel she had found in the kitchen to rub the dirt and blood off of them as she stared at the lock that seemed to be taunting her. The ridged knob cool on her fingers, she started to enter some random numbers turning the knob right, left, then back to right again, hoping the action would trigger a memory.

  Elizabeth rubbed her exhausted eyes to relieve the burning of them from the dim light, her lower back sore from her hunched over position; she stood to arch her back in an attempt to stretch out the kink. Then she moaned in frustration as she lay back on the floor, her arm thrown over her eyes as she cursed her mind for holding back what she needed to find, the truth.

  She sighed in exhaustion as she pulled herself up on her elbows, to stare down her body at the box, which she knew held the answers to her final questions. Her bare toe touched the cool metal as she played with the dial, turning it slightly back and forth. Then, the answer struck her, like a bolt of lightening. As she recalled a dream she could never make sense of, where she kept repeating a sequence of numbers. Leo’s words filled her thoughts to remind her to not take her dreams literally, telling her that many times dreams are memories jumbled together, creating an abstract vision.

  It made perfect sense, why in her dream Roger had been sitting on a safe deposit box blocking her from opening it. It held the answers to the secrets her mother had buried under the Weeping Willow. He had always been the key to her memory loss; it wasn’t until she heard his voice at the Mardi Gras parade that her true memories started to break through like a trickle of water in a cracked dam. Each day, the crack had grown larger, letting in more memories until it finally broke, releasing in her case, all the memories she had forgotten.

  She sat forward to dial in the numbers, 15 right 20 left 13 right, her fingers crossed before she pulled down on the lock, and as the metal rod pulled free, releasing its hold, Elizabeth felt the laughter bubble up and out of her, finally understanding that she did have the answers, like the gypsy said. The gypsy had been right all along; she just had to know how to find them within herse
lf.

  Her hands shook slightly as she slowly lifted the rusted lid, lifting the candle so light entered the darkened box. Her hands greedy as she reached forward for the few objects she saw, a small key, several passports, multiple stacks of twenties, and a letter tucked neatly under them all.

  She lifted the key in curiosity, too small for a house or car, the size instead reminded her of a safe deposit box and she wondered the significance of it as she removed her necklace to slide the key onto the chain, not wanting to lose the precious object, and then replacing the chain around her neck. The metal key warmed quickly next to her skin as she flipped open the passports which contained pictures of herself as a child and her mother. Elizabeth’s breath caught as she looked closely at her mother’s face, so like her own. Looking at the picture, she found herself less surprised that Roger had mistaken her at first of being her mother. Each passport carried a different name, this revelation also not surprising.

  Elizabeth paused as she lifted the letter; curious, she opened the fragile paper, a musty scent filling the air as she noted the delicate flowery writing across it. Tears gathered once more as she lifted it to her lips, knowing it was written to her by her mother, unable to suppress them any longer, her tears flowed silently down her cheeks, dampening the edges of the letter, her heart rapid in her chest as she felt the connection to her, apologizing to her memory for forgetting her for so long.

  Elizabeth slowly unfolded the papers, the handwriting familiar and dear. Her tears blurred the words slightly as she wiped them away on her sleeve, in an attempt to get her composure.

  The words written beautifully, gracefully, Elizabeth skimmed her fingers along the faded ink, uncovering slowly ‘My precious sunflower’ the enduring nickname vibrating through her so she could almost hear her mother’s voice from so long ago calling her by the endearment. When she was just a child, her blonde hair had been the color of spun gold with unusual brown streaks throughout. Her mother had always told her the unusual combination always reminded her of her favorite flower the sunflower.

  Elizabeth’s hair brushed forward as a slight breeze entered the room, turning the room cold. Looking up and around she attempted to see into the darkened hall and the source, the candles flickering madly. The chill sending shivers down her back, the hairs on her arms rose as a feeling of insecurity wrapped around her like a cold blanket.

  A loud bang filled the air, as a scream froze in her throat. Subconsciously, she scooted back away from where the sound came, afraid to move, her eyes scanning the darkened shadows which seemed even more ominous than before.

  Elizabeth finally gathered up her courage, her legs weak as she lifted herself up to walk tentatively towards the hall, her heart hammering painfully against her ribs. The noise sounded again, this time she dropped the candle, the flame snuffed itself out sending the room into complete darkness.

  A scream escaped her lips before she could stifle it with her hands; her body froze in mid-step, afraid to move. Her eyes strained to see into the blackness of the room, watching for anything. Shadows slowly took shape as her eyes adjusted, she stepped hesitantly now into the entryway, the front door swinging on its broken frame, recreating the noise she had heard.

  Relieved, she squatted down to retrieve the fallen candle, pulling the matches out of her pocket to re-light it, the sudden brightness stung her eyes for an instant.

  She walked back into the dining room, the large space which opened into the darkened kitchen on one end and the darkened hallway on the other now made her feel vulnerable. She shivered as she looked around the room where so much horror had happened, a fear settling down around her, as she realized it could easily happen to her, too, if Roger knew where she was. She held the candle in one hand as she reached down for the fallen letter, tucking it into her jeans and trying to decide once again if she should attempt the road. She then reminded herself of the vow she had made to herself to be stronger, her hands rubbed her arms against the increasing chill in the air. Lifting the candle towards the corners, she walked back to the stairs, remembering that the beds upstairs still had blankets on them. The stairs creaked under her weight as she walked up them gingerly, protecting the valuable light.

  The full moon lit her old bedroom, as she placed the candle on the vanity, the flame flickered in the mirror casting shadows on the walls. The house now bone chillingly cold, she saw puffs of her own breath in the light of the moon, the warmth from the day now gone.

  She hugged her upper body for warmth, as she walked over to the bed. Quickly pulling the comforter off, dust rose into the air making her sneeze as it tickled her nose before she wrapped it around her shoulder. Climbing up onto the small twin bed which sat against the wall next to the moonlit window, she arranged herself next to it, resting her back against the wall and pulling her legs up in front of her to cover them.

  Shivers racked her body, not only from the cold but also from the stress she felt under. She tucked her cold nose into the quickly warming cocoon her own body heat had created. The shivers residing slowly as she warmed, her mind going over what she had found so far as her fingers played with the edge of the letter, knowing she couldn’t avoid it any longer.

  She turned so the moonlight caught the words on the paper, her eyes adjusting to the dim light, quickly forgetting the cold and what could be lurking in the corners as she began to read the words her mother had written so many years ago. The words that graced the pages, fluent and poetic, Elizabeth felt as though her mother sat beside her, speaking softly in her ear, brushing her hair with her fingers as she had done when she was a young girl.

  Her mother’s words drew Elizabeth into her secret world of love, hate, and part madness. As she saw what she could not see as a child, that which her youth had clouded, her heart grew and swelled, now seeing her mother as more than just a mother but a woman with real wants, heartache, and faults that she let get out of control. Furthermore, what her mother had done to protect her from her world of madness.

  My dearest Julia,

  My precious little sunflower.

  If you are reading this now then that means what I had put into plan so many years ago, must come into play. All I ask is that you read this now with an open mind and heart. Please find it within yourself to forgive me for what I have done. But most of all, forgive me for not protecting you when you needed to be protected and loved. You were and always have been my one true reason for living. I have loved you even before you were born and that love had only grown with the years.

  There are things you should know about, that I never found the strength to reveal, afraid that you would see me differently, and that is something I could never bear. I’ll start at the beginning, before you were born, when life was full of grey days which very seldom saw the sun. I was raised by two small time hustlers, con artists, with a taste for booze and gambling. I remember pretending that they weren’t my true parents. That my true parents were some grand couple living on a hill mourning the loss of their daughter, who was kidnapped one dark night. Yes, like you I would fantasize as a child, wishing things weren’t as they were. Anyway, I can’t remember my exact age when they pulled me into their world, using me as their pawn in their scams. Too young, I know. We moved often when the ‘heat got too hot’ my mother would always say. When I was older I discovered this meant the authorities. I had always thought it was normal; moving from town to town, changing names and identities. My parents always looking for ‘new blood’ they would say. But the older I grew the more I started to hate who and what we were. The lies and deceptions taking their toll on me, turning me bitter and anger with life. So, by the time I was eighteen, I had the body of a twenty five year old and an attitude to match. It was also at this time that I met your father. Who, by the way, gave me that beautiful charm of an angel with the message for my eyes alone. He gave it to me because he said I reminded him of an angel that came to him to fill his life with love once more. How naive I w
as to believe this was true, wanting to believe I could be anybody’s angel. So instead of disillusioning him, I lived the lie, lived the part of an angel. Let me remind you once more, I looked and acted like I was in my mid-twenties. With this being said, he believed me older then I was and I never told him otherwise. He was kind and gentle with me. But most importantly, he made me laugh, something I didn’t do often. With him, the days were sunny, not grey. They filled me up with life. He was all that I wasn’t and all that I was. He was also wealthy, the kind of man my parents sought out for their scams, forcing me to keep our relationship quiet. Finding myself afraid, always fearful that one day my parents would discover this secret life of mine and use it for their own means. Taking away, this special happiness in my heart. My sunny days. And I did believe, naively, that I could keep living this double life with no one the wiser. Until, finally once more, life takes those twists and turns that catch us all by surprise. This twist came with you. Finding myself pregnant at nineteen.

  At first I tried to keep it hidden from my parents but unfortunately pregnancy was not easy for me and I became terribly ill during the first few months. I was then going to tell your father and have us live happily ever after but it was not to be. My mother suspected correctly and had me take a pregnancy test, which came back positive. Her initial reaction was furious, calling me a whore. Wanting to know the name of the father, so he could pay for this atrocity growing within me. Pay for taking away at least four good months of money making potential from them. You see by this time, I was my parent’s tool in their cons. My older looks and beauty trapped selected men they chose, then blackmailing them to keep silent. So, with my mother’s ranting, my fairy tale life was shattered once more, under the high heel of reality. At this time, I felt a bit of madness enter my soul, envisioning my mother confronting your father, with her clever words, until he no longer looked at me with sweetness and love, but instead hate and loathing for who I was. I believed he would think I had planned this all along to ensnarl him in my web of deceit that I had used so often on other men. Seeing only the negative in life so far, I could not see it happening any differently. My youth and insecurity believed he would only see the bad not the good. And his love would grow to hate. My final break with your father came when I discovered that my parents had a friend of theirs following me, to find out his identity. Terrifying me. Feeling myself going into a deep depression, I mourned the loss of him, my sunny days. Thinking all that was good was lost. Until one day I felt you move, just a small little wave, but a movement of life which had filled me with hope, and promise. The sun, once more, started to shine as I found myself growing madly in love with this little creature growing within me, picturing who you would be one day, what you would look like and knowing I never lost your father, that he would always be with me through you. You were the seed of our love, my little sunflower.