Secrets in the Attic

by V. C. Andrews

  I just sat there staring at him

  "She told you all about it?" he asked.

  "Yes," I said.

  "Wow. So, what about her mother?"

  I explained it the way Karen had explained it to me. He listened, shaking his head.

  "Boy, she had it real tough," he said. "I feel sorry for her now. Before, I just thought . . . but flow. She should come forward and tell the police. It would make a difference, especially if she were fighting him off at the time."

  "She doesn't think anyone would believe her, because her mother won't or hasn't said anything about it and would deny it. It would be her word against her mother's, and if your own mother doesn't support you . ."

  His eyes narrowed as he looked at me, nodding slowly. "You sound as if you've spoken to her since, Zipporah. Have you? Well?" he followed quickly.

  "I meant she didn't think anyone would believe her. That's why she never told anyone but me," I quickly corrected.

  "Dad told me the police believe she went to New York City. Something about a phone call."

  I nodded. The police did believe that. How I hated lying to everyone, but if I were careful with my words, I could skate on the border between falsehood and the truth, and my conscience wouldn't bother me as much. I wasn't ready to confide fully in Jesse. I wasn't yet sure it was wise to do it. I wanted to. I needed an ally, but I was still too afraid.

  "Where could she go in New York? Did she have any friends in New York?"

  "I don't know of any."

  "She couldn't go to any relatives, that's for sure."

  I nodded in agreement and breathed easier. At least, there was no question that Karen had made noise after Jesse arrived.

  "What's it like for you at school?"

  I described it to him, leaving out all the business with Dana Martin, of course.

  "Yeah, well, at least you'll find out who could be a real friend and who couldn't," he said. "I better finish getting my stuff unpacked, clothes for washing and all," he said, rising. "I saw from Mom's schedule on the bulletin board that she'll be home by four today. What about Dad?"

  "He said he might be working late. Otherwise, he was going to take me to see the police before dinner."

  "To see the police again? Why?"

  "He told them what I told him, and they want to talk to me about it."

  "Oh. Right. Good," he said. "You do that, no matter what Karen's mother says or does. I'll go along, too," he offered. "If Dad says okay, that is."

  "Thanks, Jesse."

  "You'll be all right;' he said. "I brought you something from college."

  "You did?"

  "Come on up to my room, and I'll show you," he said, and I followed him up the stairs, gazing toward the attic door as I turned into his room. It remained shut tight.

  Jesse went to his suitcase and took out a sweatshirt from his college.

  "Should fit," he said. "College girls like them to be a little large."

  "Thanks," I said. "I'll wear it to school torriorrow."

  "Good. I'll finish up here and meet you downstairs to greet Mom. I'll pop out from behind a door or something."

  I laughed. It was so good having him home that I didn't care about Karen being hidden upstairs. She'd have to figure out how to handle it herself or go. Maybe this was all for the best. Finally, something would bring it to an end. I went to my room to change into more comfortable things and then went down to wait for my mother. I started to set the table for dinner. That would be her first clue, the extra plate, I thought, and laughed to myself at what her reaction was going to be.

  The phone rang. It was my father telling me what he feared happening had happened. He would be delayed and might not even make dinner. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him Jesse was home, but I thought Jesse wanted to surprise him.

  "In any case, I've spoken with the police, and our interview with them is tomorrow after school. I'll be picking you up at school, and we're going right to the township police office," he told me. "Don't worry about it. You'll just tell them what you know, what you were told, and that will be that."

  "Okay," I said.

  "See you as soon as I can. Tell your mother for me."

  "I will."

  Not twenty minutes later, my mother drove in. She shouted for me as soon as she came in from the garage. Jesse was still upstairs.

  "In here," I called back from the dining room. She stood in the doorway, looking in.

  "How's my roast? Did you get it started in time?"

  "Yes," I said. "Daddy might not make dinner. He called a little while ago. He said he'll let us know." "He's working harder than ever. Did you find the corn on the cob?"

  "Peeled and ready. The water is in the pot. The string beans are set. I put the bread in the warmer." "Good. How was your day?"

  "Okay," I said, without any enthusiasm.

  "It'll get better," she promised. I thought she was just going to turn and go upstairs to shower and change out of her uniform without noticing anything. She actually started away from the dining room and then stopped and slowly turned back. "Why are there four plates?" she asked. "Who's coming to dinner?"

  The expression on her face told me she didn't think of Jesse. She was thinking of Karen. It made my heart stop and start, and for a moment, I couldn't respond. Then, Jesse called out to her from the stairway.

  "Jesse! What are you doing here?"

  "I found out I live here," he said.

  "Where's your car?"

  "Hidden. I wanted to surprise you and Dad." "You did that, you little devil."

  I stepped up to the doorway and watched them hug and kiss. He explained again why he felt more comfortable coming back early, and she smiled at him and looked at me with an expression that clearly told me how much she loved him Jesse was always perfect in my mother's eyes. I used to be jealous, but now, I thought he deserved being loved more. After all, he wasn't hiding anything as terrible as I was. He was being a good son. When would I be a good daughter again?

  We had to start dinner without Daddy, but Jesse kept us so entertained by his stories about his college experiences that we didn't realize how much time had gone by until we heard the garage door opening.

  "I'll start warming everything up;' Mama said, rising from the table.

  Jesse sat back, a wide smile of anticipation on his face.

  "Sony," we heard Daddy sing out as he came in from the garage.

  "You should be," Jesse called back.

  Daddy said nothing. He just walked into the dining room.

  "What the . . . why are you here?"

  "Everyone asks me the same question. I'm beginning to feel unwanted."

  Daddy smiled. "So? What happened? You told me you were coming home on Sunday."

  "I figured you needed professional help back here," Jesse said.

  "Yeah, right. You just wanted a good homecooked meal, I bet."

  "That, too," Jesse said, and they hugged.

  "Hey, where's your car?"

  "Behind the garage."

  "You little sneak," Daddy said, but he smiled.

  Tears came to my eyes. Daddy needed Jesse more, I thought, more than ever. He, too, needed the good son. Jesse had gotten into what I called boys' trouble from time to time, but it was all Huckleberry Finn trouble, pranks and silliness. Nothing he ever did and no one he ever had as a friend ever brought the sort of darkness I had brought into our home.

  "Everything's getting warmed up for you, Michael," Mama told him

  "I'll be right down," he said. "I hope, there's something left," he added, winking at Jesse.

  "He looks tired," Jesse said as soon as Daddy left the room.

  Mama just glanced at him. "He likes working hard," she muttered, but I knew and felt his fatigue was coming from some other source. Who knew what he had to contend with at work because of the Pearson tragedy and my involvement?

  "I was thinking," Jesse told him when he returned and sat at the table, "that I would go with you and Zipporah to
morrow to see the police."

  Daddy looked up quickly.

  "She told me all about it," Jesse added.

  "I don't think so, Jesse. It will look like we're worried about something. I'd like to make it as short and sweet as possible for Zipporah, but thanks."

  Jesse glanced at me. He looked disappointed, but he didn't argue.

  After dinner, he and Daddy went into the home office to talk, and I went up to do my homework after I helped Mama with the dishes. She kept telling me to go, that it was fine, but I was stalling, mainly because I was afraid of confronting Karen. By now, she surely knew Jesse had returned. The attic door was still shut tight. I sat in my room and listened as hard as I could but heard nothing, not even a creak in the ceiling. The tension was driving me mad. Was she cowering in a dark corner, frightened so badly she couldn't move? Was she racking her brain, trying to figure out what to do? Had she been able to get herself enough water, something to eat, before Jesse had arrived?

  I couldn't stand it. It was truly as if I were the one hidden in the attic, suffering, not Karen. As quietly as I could, I went out and stood at the top of the stairway, listening. Mama was still in the kitchen. The dishwasher had been started. Daddy and Jesse were still in the office. I had to take my chances now or spend the night worrying. I wouldn't sleep. That was for sure.

  It was better just to hurry up the stairs the way someone might walk over hot coals. I was hoping not to give the steps a chance to moan. I stepped as close to the corners as I could, since they creaked less that way. Opening the attic door, I peered into the darkness. The moon was sheathed in a thick cloud, so there was no illumination spilling through the windows. It took a moment for my eyes to get used to the pitch darkness I made out the usual silhouettes of furnishings, but I heard nothing

  "Karen?" I whispered. "Karen, do you know Jesse's back?"

  I waited in the doorway, keeping one ear turned toward the downstairs to listen for any sign of Mama or Jesse coming up. I heard nothing in either ear.

  "Karen, I just have a moment. Please. Do you know? Are you all right?"

  I waited but still heard nothing. Was she too frightened even to speak to me? Did I chance going in further, maybe putting on the dim ceiling fixtures? Would that put her into a greater panic and then expose us both?

  "Karen?" I tried one more time, listened, and then backed out and slowly, as quietly as I could, closed the attic door. She probably had all she needed for tonight, I thought. She had probably decided not to take the chance I was willing to take. Perhaps she was smarter. What could I do if she didn't have what she needed now, anyway?

  I practically tiptoed down the stairway, but I didn't have to. Mama, Daddy, and Jesse were all talking at once now in the living room below. I heard their laughter, too. For a long moment, I just stood there at the top of the stairway, listening, a smile on my face. It sounded like old times. I wanted so much to be part of it, to descend those steps and dive into the warmth of their love, to turn my back on the attic and all it contained. I felt guilty about it. I had this raft in the middle of this sea of turmoil, and I could swim to it and be safe. However, it would be truly as if I were leaving Karen out there to drown, deserting her to save myself. No matter which way I turned, I felt terrible.

  The best thing to do was throw myself at my homework. I had lots of reading to do and a theme paper to write. It worked. I lost track of time and didn't look up until I heard Jesse come to my doorway and tap on the jamb.

  "You all right?" he asked.

  "No. I hate Mr. Whittier. He expects us all to be Hemingways."

  Jesse laughed and came over to my desk. He glanced at my paper.

  "Can I?" he asked, picking up a pen.

  "Go ahead," I said. "Have a ball."

  He circled words, found grammatical errors and spelling mistakes, and made some quick suggestions. "I'll never be good at this," I moaned.

  "It's all right. Not so bad. You probably would have picked up most of it in proofreading, anyway. The trick is to do it early, first, and put it away. Whenever you look at something after time passes, you can see the mistakes clearly."

  The way he was looking at me, I thought he meant a lot more than a school theme paper. I nodded, thanked him, and made the corrections.

  "I'm going to do some chores around the house tomorrow. The back lawn is wild. Bushes need trimming, and I promised Mom I'd fix two shutters. Later, I'll ride your bike into the village for some exercise. Don't worry about the police thing. Dad's got it under control, I'm sure."

  "Thanks," I said. I glanced at the ceiling. What

  would Karen do now? She would have to wait for him to leave. His arrival meant she would be trapped up there for much longer periods of time, and our time together would be quite reduced.

  It's over, I thought. This is coming to a fast end. It brought me a sense of relief but also a sense of deep sadness. I listened as hard as I could before I went to sleep, but there wasn't a creak that was unusual. She was probably asleep herself, I thought, and closed my eyes. The tension had driven me deeper into exhaustion than I had anticipated. In moments, I was drifting off, not waking until the first rays of morning light snuck through the curtains to twirl about my face and draw me back into reality.

  Everyone was up early. Jesse was down before our parents, in fact, and had put up the coffee. He behaved like a starving student, preparing scrambled eggs, sliced fruit, some bacon, and a pile of toast. As if their laughter had been put on pause, Mama and Daddy broke into immediate hysterics watching him shovel the food into his mouth. I wished I had half his appetite.

  Dad drove me to school again. All the way, he talked about Jesse and how proud he was of him because of his school grades.

  "Despite his activities and being a freshman, he's doing better than I did. Don't tell him I told you," Daddy added. "No sense blowing his ego up any more than necessary. The truth is, I nearly flunked out after the first semester. My mind was on other things."

  I shook my head in disbelief.

  "You did?"

  "Yes, Zipporah, we all make mistakes and perform less than perfectly. Don't you think you have to live up to any legends here."

  Was he making all this up to help me feel better about myself and about what I had kept secret concerning Karen's terrible experiences with her stepfather?

  "There is good reason for distinguishing between the actions of minors and the actions of adults," he added. "Not that it serves as a total excuse, mind you, but at least it helps us understand. Do you understand?" he asked.

  "Yes," I said. I did. He was giving me an out, and I was eager to wrap myself around it as I would a teddy bear.

  The school day went much the same as it had the day before for me, except that I was somewhat more alert in class. One of the other girls, a borderline zero in Karen's eyes, Jackie Forman, was actually very nice to me.

  "It must be hard for you," she said between classes when we walked beside each other in the hallway. "You're probably in a bigger daze about it than anyone."

  I nodded.

  Later, she joined me at lunch, and then Sally and another girl, Terri Buckner, a friend of hers, joined us, too. No one talked about Karen. Our conversation was built around our classes, some upcoming activities at school, and the impending summer break, what everyone was planning on doing. For a little while, at least, I felt almost normal. I believed I could come back from all this and enjoy my high school years. What was it my grandmother, Daddy's mother, always said? "This too shall pass."

  Everything does eventually, I thought.

  Maybe I would be all right after all. Maybe even Karen would.

  Daddy was there waiting for me in the parking lot. I had been so happy about making new friends and participating in school, I actually forgot about what awaited me. The sight of him filled my stomach with snowballs. I hurried to his car and got in.

  "How are you doing?"

  "Good," I said. "I got an A on my English paper. Mr. Whittier stopped me to
tell me before I went to my last class. He had corrected the papers during his free period."

  "Wow, that's great."

  "Jesse helped me," I confessed.

  Daddy smiled. "That's legal," he said. "Any familial assistance on a theme paper is okay. That's why they call it homework." We both laughed.

  I don't deserve him, I thought. I don't deserve the family I have.

  We pulled into the parking spot for visitors at the police station twenty minutes later. He shut the engine off but sat there.

  "The big question they are going to have for you, Zipporah, is why didn't you tell them all this the first time? Have you thought about that?"

  "I swore to Karen that I would never tell," I said. "I promised."

  He nodded. "Okay. Let's go."

  This time, when we entered the chief's office, there was a tape recorder on the chief's desk. The two detectives were in the seats they had been in, and the chief was behind his desk. Chairs had been set out for us.

  "Do you have any objections to our recording this interview?" Lieutenant Cooper asked Daddy immediately.

  "No," Daddy said. He nodded at me, and we sat. "I'd like a copy of the transcription, however."

  "Understood," Lieutenant Cooper said. He turned to me. "So, apparently there was some significant information that you withheld the last time we spoke."

  "Great way to begin with a cooperative minor," Daddy muttered.

  Lieutenant Cooper glanced at him and smirked. "There were things you could have told us before but didn't," he corrected. "Why not?"

  "I had promised Karen I wouldn't tell anyone," I said. "She was very embarrassed about it, ashamed. She told me it made her feel dirty."

  "Okay, but now you know this is about as serious as things could be, and you are required to give us any information that pertains to the situation, right? You're not going to keep anything else secret?"

  "She came to tell you what she was told," my father said very slowly. "Why don't you just get to that without all these dramatics?"

  "Jesus," Detective Simon muttered. Daddy glanced at him