Secrets of You

by Mary Campisi

  “Oh, hush, child. I’d like to hear their version if you don’t mind.”

  Ash looked down at Lorna and smiled. “I’ll be more than happy to explain, but unless you want to read about it in tomorrow’s newspaper, I’d prefer to say what needs saying inside.”

  Lorna nodded. “True. Edgar always said news flew through the town faster than a hawk after a mouse.”

  That sounded like something he would say. He’d had lots of sayings that made Ash wonder if he made them up or if they’d been hand-me-downs from his father. He squeezed Arianna’s shoulder as she passed him. Her sister was not going to bully her or lay guilt on her for one second longer. Not if Ash had a thing or two to say, and he did.

  “I made a meatloaf.” Lorna stirred something on the stove and lowered the heat. “Mashed potatoes, gravy. Corn. Applesauce.” She smiled at Arianna. “Just the way you used to like.”

  “Thank you.”

  He hadn’t known her to eat that many carbs in six days, let alone one sitting, but who was he to argue with a mother welcoming home her lost child? Vanessa stood in the corner shooting poison-dart looks at her sister. Before they left, Ash planned to set her straight on a lot of things. And if she didn’t want to attend the wedding, then the hell with her, she could stay here and feel sorry for how things hadn’t turned out like a fairy tale.

  Lorna poured two glasses of iced tea, plunked wedges of lemon in the glasses, and placed them on the table. “Just made this.” She sat down and folded her hands in front of her. “Okay. Let’s hear it.”

  Ash did most of the talking, occasionally gesturing to Arianna who filled in snippets of story, how they met, how they split apart and met again. Lorna teared up, swiped at her eyes, and sniffed at certain parts. “I wish your father could be here.”

  Vanessa snorted. “He’d never put up with this. And don’t think he’d give you away either, because he wouldn’t.”

  “That’s enough.” Lorna stood and faced her younger daughter. “You are welcome into this home anytime, but you’ll be respectful of my guests and if you find that so hard to do, you’ll have to leave.” That didn’t sit well. Vanessa’s mouth thinned to a straight line but she clamped it shut and stormed out the front, banging the screen door behind her. “I don’t know where her heart turned so black and unforgiving, but it’s a sad sight to see.”

  No wonder Arianna had avoided this town for so long. Nothing like having a member of your family want to nail you to a stake. Had Edgar really been so unforgiving or had he not known how to make amends? Or maybe Vanessa hadn’t wanted him to make amends; maybe she’d even encouraged the wedge between him and Arianna, tossing fuel, on situations—real or imagined—that would not let him get past what his oldest daughter had done.

  Arianna cleared her throat and clutched Ash’s hand. “We want to get married in Endicotte. In the park.”

  “Really?” Lorna’s eyes grew bright, her voice faltered. “You don’t want to get married in the city?”

  “No. We’d like to get married here, with a band and roses and a big picnic catered with Philly specialties.”

  “Philly specialties? What’s that?”

  Ash grinned. “Food that makes Philadelphia special. Philly cheesesteak. stromboli, tomato pizza, soft pretzels. Butter pound cake.”

  Lorna shook her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. The weddings I’ve attended have baked ziti and chicken.”

  “Trust me, you’ll love it,” Ash assured her. “We’ll have an open house in the park, invite the town, and show my city family and friends that small-town people know how to have a good time.” He leaned across the table, grabbed her hand. “And you better save a dance for me.”

  “I haven’t danced in years.”

  Ash winked at her. “Then you’ve got two months to practice.”

  Later that night as they lay in her old bedroom, Arianna’s body pressed against his side, Ash thought about what had happened earlier. “What’s really going on with your sister?”

  “She’s unhappy and she blames me. I understand, to a point, but it’s been years.” She sighed, ran her hand along his chest, settled on his belly. “I don’t think she’s ever going to forgive me.”

  “At some point, it’s her problem.”

  “I know, but she wasn’t like that when I left.” She paused, her words filling the night with sadness and remorse. “I made her like that.”

  Ash sifted her hair through his fingers, inhaled the sweet scent. He wanted to erase her pain, wished he could remove the darkness from her life and replace it with joy. And peace. But he couldn’t, all he could do was stand by her side. Maybe that’s what made a real partnership—not trying to save the other person, but being there for them when disappointment crushed them, and staying, no matter what.

  He would stand beside Arianna and he would stay. No matter what. “At some point, you have to stop blaming everyone else for your misery and take responsibility for your life. Vanessa is well past that point.”

  She didn’t respond right away and when she did, her voice drifted in and out with sadness. “I’ve never even met her daughters.”

  “You will.” He gathered her in his arms and held her close. “Trust me, you will.”

  Ash was up, dressed, and out the door the next morning while Lorna and Arianna slept. He jogged the three blocks to Vanessa’s house, determined to speak with her. If she didn’t want anything to do with Arianna, fine, but to deny her children their only aunt? That was pure selfishness. He spotted the light on in the kitchen and knocked on the back door.

  Vanessa opened it, her sullen expression brightening a bit when she spotted him. “Ash. What do you want?”

  “How about a cup of coffee?” She moved aside to let him enter. The kitchen was red with a black and white vinyl floor and a cream countertop. Chimes hung at different lengths from the ceiling—bamboo, metal, painted wood, in varying shapes and sizes—circles, rectangles, stars—all unique, all eye-catching.

  “Where did you get these?” He studied an orange and yellow circle mobile with streaks of red and pink blended through.

  Vanessa turned away and poured his coffee. “I made them.”

  “You did this?” This work spoke of joy and beauty and abounding happiness. It did not look like the creation of an ornery, disillusioned woman who blamed life and her sister for her lot.

  She shrugged, handed him his coffee. “It’s not that hard.”

  He eyed another mobile, threaded with beads that sparkled with blue and green vibrancy. “Did you design them, too?”

  Pink crept from the neck of her T-shirt to her cheeks. “I did.”

  Ash sipped his coffee, stood in the center of the tiny kitchen and faced her. Might as well get it out. He’d never been one to talk in code, preferred straight talking and looking a person in the eye. “Are you ever going to get over this pissing match you’ve got going with your sister?”

  Her mouth flattened, pinched. “That really has nothing to do with you, Ash. You should leave it alone.”

  He rubbed his jaw, considered her words. He’d expected as much, had even anticipated them. “You know, your dad and I used to have some pretty good talks. Nothing prophetic or philosophical, just real. He worried about you and how you carried your disappointment on your shoulders, said it was bad for the girls to see, bad for you, too. Anyone who came within a room’s distance could see it on your face, sense it in your words. I never knew what was behind it and he never offered. It didn’t matter.” He shrugged. “What mattered was the destruction you were causing and how it was going to end up in one grand demolition.”

  “I trusted her and she betrayed me.”

  “I get that, but she was a kid. How long are you going to blame her for everything you do? Or is that the way it is, blame Arianna so you never have to be responsible for anything?”

  She shook her head and her faded blonde hair swished against her shoulders. She’d be attractive if she smiled once in a while and erased
the sourpuss expression. That wasn’t going to happen until she admitted her own part in the screw-up she called her life. “You don’t understand.”

  “Oh, but I do. I was the same as you but in a different way. My parents died when I was nine and my brother swooped in and tried to be mother and father. He was only nineteen and I resented that like hell. I didn’t want a kid acting like a parent, I wanted a real parent. I acted out, blew through money, refused to take responsibility for anything, especially my actions. I put my brother through hell, but I didn’t care because it wasn’t my fault. And then I met Arianna. She didn’t know I had a trust fund and a spoiled-rotten attitude. I lost her because my brother didn’t believe I could really care about a woman I just met. He thought it was one more hare-brained idea in a long list of hare-brained ideas. Could I blame him? I tried, and then I woke up. It was the best and worst thing that ever happened to me.”

  The blueness in her eyes shimmered. “I believed in her.”

  “I know. It’s not too late to make things right, give her another chance. She won’t disappoint you.” He clasped her hand, squeezed. “And whatever you’ve done to hurt her and keep that alive, she’ll forgive you. Trust her.”

  Chapter 11

  Arianna sat in the backyard on the swing her father had built when she was ten. She’d helped him cut and stain the wood. It had taken three weekends, several splinters, and a hammered thumb, but it was theirs. At night, during the summer, they sipped iced tea and ate graham crackers while the swing lulled them with its rhythmic creaking. There’d never been a need for words, not like when Vanessa bounced upon them with her incessant chatter that was tiresome and annoying. Their father’s responses had been curt and held none of the softness he used when directing his words and attention to Arianna. Had Vanessa noticed, even then, that she was not the favorite, would never be the favorite, unless her big sister stumbled from grace? And not a quick stumble from a step either, but a free-falling dive from a cliff.

  Arianna couldn’t really blame Vanessa for her animosity. It could not have been easy or welcoming to have a parent who so clearly did not want to be bothered with what his child had to offer. Was it because Vanessa refused to do things merely to please? She’d stood up to her father when she didn’t agree with his high-handedness and he hadn’t liked that. Not one bit. Arianna, however, hadn’t liked his demanding nature either, but she’d pretended she did because she hadn’t wanted to disappoint him. In the end, she’d devastated him.

  “Arianna? Can we talk?”

  Vanessa stood several feet away, holding an envelope between her hands. Her face was pale, her lips pinched, her eyes shadowed. Had she come to toss one more dart before Arianna left? “Sure.”

  “Ash came to see me this morning.” She took a step closer, stopped.

  “He did?” He hadn’t said anything about visiting Vanessa, not even a hint.

  “Yeah.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, cleared her throat. “We talked.”

  That could mean anything. Ash hadn’t been happy with the way Vanessa acted yesterday, but to seek her out and tell her? Why? What would it prove? She guessed she was about to find out. “Come. Sit with me.” She patted the wooden swing and stopped rocking.

  Vanessa nodded and made her way to the swing, clutching the envelope so tight it turned into a wrinkled mess. Whatever she had to say, the envelope was behind it, that and Ash’s visit. Her sister’s blue eyes grew bluer, her expression uncertain. “Why would you want me to come to your wedding?”

  “Because you’re my sister.” Because I hurt you, because I want a relationship with you.

  Those eyes misted, the expression began to crumble. “No.” She shook her head and swiped at her eyes. “You won’t, not once you know what I’ve done.”

  “Vanessa.” Arianna took her hand. “You’re my sister.”

  “I blamed you for everything, even long after I knew you weren’t the one to blame. It was so much easier that way, screwing up, making it your fault, convincing Dad you were behind the way I was. He was so torn with hurt and betrayal, he believed anything I told him.” Tears spilled down her cheeks, trailed to her chin. “I made stuff up about you, horrible stuff so he’d never want to see you again.” She sniffed and stared at the envelope. “But in the end, it didn’t matter; he never stopped loving you or missing you. Three months before he died, he ended up in the hospital in congestive heart failure. He gave me this letter and asked me to send it to you.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, but still the tears came, pouring out what must have been years of grief and pain. “I read it.” She blinked open her eyes, grabbed Arianna’s hand, and thrust the letter at her. “I never sent it. He died thinking you turned him away.” Her shoulders shook, her voice spilled out her misery. “I’m the one who should be begging your forgiveness but how can I when I can’t forgive myself?”

  “Oh, Vanessa.” She pulled her into her arms, held her close, welcoming the tears. “I’m so sorry. About everything.” Arianna rubbed her sister’s back, stroked her hair. “I pretended I was someone I wasn’t, hid my real feelings, my doubts, and I almost lost Ash because of it. He’s the one who taught me to forgive myself so I could move forward. You can do the same,” she whispered. “I’ll help you.”

  The sobs grew louder, more uncontrollable. “Why? Why would you do that after what I’ve done.”

  “Why?” Arianna pulled away, her face wet, nose running. “You’re my sister. My blood. I love you.”

  Vanessa’s lips wobbled. “I love you, too. I’m so sorry.” She touched the letter. “You have to read it.”

  Arianna slid the letter from the envelope, slowly, cautiously, knowing the contents would change her life. She unfolded the letter and there, in a bold scrawl, was her father’s familiar handwriting.

  My Dearest Arianna:

  How does a father apologize for committing the unforgivable—giving up on his daughter? I’m lying in the hospital, counting my regrets, and what I’ve done to you is the biggest one. I spent years trying to punish you for leaving and for pretending your mother and I didn’t exist. I was so hurt that you would want to blot us from your life that I let pride and rage fill me until I couldn’t find my way back to reason.

  From the moment you were born, you have filled my heart and now as I lie in this hospital bed, I fear I will die before telling you how much I love you—how much I have always loved you, and will continue to love you until I draw my last breath.

  I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me and it would bring me the greatest joy to see you one last time. Please. Please come to me.

  I love you, Princess.

  Dad

  “Can you still forgive me? Vanessa’s voice sifted through Arianna’s soul, joined with her father’s words.

  “I already have.”

  ***

  The town of Endicotte anticipated the wedding of Arianna Sorensen and Ashford Lancaster from the second Jeb Johnson burst into the VFW and spilled the story, until the day finally arrived in a swell of fall glory with the sun, leaves, and a blue sky. The fact that Ash had ridden into their town a few years ago and never disclosed his past relationship with Edgar Sorensen’s daughter didn’t create too much fuss, though many had a thing or two to say to the young man about manners and straightforwardness. Still, they liked the boy, had liked him from the second he rode in on his motorcycle and liked him even better when they learned he was marrying one of their own. His hoity-toity background never came up because he acted like one of them, drinking beer and eating burgers in Edgar Sorensen’s garage, playing cards at the VFW, and, of course, falling in love with Arianna.

  Two days before the big event, which was to take place at the Endicotte Memorial Park, the stream of cars started rolling in—all those foreign types with LED lights and fancy tires. But not Ash and Arianna—they came to town in a Chevy SUV with a trailer. The guess about what was inside the trailer was a pretty safe one, seeing as Ash was a motorcycle man.


  As Endicotte was not equipped to house more than ten guests in one location, the wedding party had to split up between The Honeybee Hotel and Park’s Manor. Both were clean, changed linens daily, and served homemade sweet rolls every Saturday. When the morning of the wedding arrived, Ash sat with his brother in the dining room of Park’s Manor, drinking his third cup of coffee and munching on his second sweet roll.

  “So.” Pete pulled apart a section of sweet roll, slathered it with butter. “This is it. In two hours you’re going to be a married man.”

  Ash nodded. “That’s right.” It couldn’t happen soon enough. Since the moment he slipped the ring on Arianna’s finger he’d been anxious for the ceremony. It was crazy and ridiculous, but part of him worried something might happen to keep them apart—again. Pete had spent too much time reassuring him it wouldn’t happen, but what did he know? Since he’d done his part to bring Ash and Arianna together, Caroline thought he was a Superhero. Pete loved it. The more she oohed and aahed over his “sensitive side,” as she called it, the gooier he became, sending her flowers and poems. It was downright amusing and totally out of character for Pete. Still, it was refreshing to see his brother truly happy, and he hadn’t needed to resort to hair dye or leather jackets to do it.

  “I like this town.” Pete took in the high ceilings, the crown moldings, the ornate woodwork in the doors. “There’s a certain feel about it that’s welcoming. People are that way, too, aren’t they?”

  “Yeah. They don’t have much time for pretense or fabrication. They’ll give it to you straight up and if you can’t take it, you better carry antacids.” He grinned. “I like that about them.” He fiddled with his spoon, looked at his brother. “Arianna and I have talked about buying a place a mile or two from here, in the country. There’s an old farmhouse that needs an overhaul, but we think we’re up to the challenge.”

  Pete kept his voice even, but Ash didn’t miss the surprise shadowing his expression. “You’d leave Philly?”