Secrets in the Attic

by V. C. Andrews

Was there a snake whispering in our ears?

  "This is it, isn't it?" the nurse asked me as we drove up to my house.

  "Yes. Thank you, Mrs. Miller."

  "Is that your brother's car in the driveway?" she asked.

  "Yes."

  "Well, good. Someone's home. I'll be sure to let your parents know you've been brought home. Just rest for a while," she said. "You'll be fine."

  "Thanks again:' I said, getting out.

  She nodded and backed out of the driveway. I looked at Jesse's car and then hurried into the house, taking care not to touch the recently painted railings.

  The first thing that struck me was the silence. I stood in the entryway for a few moments listening. Then I went into the kitchen and saw Jesse had bought the bags of groceries Mama had asked him to buy. The empty bags rested on the counter. Everything had been put away. So that's where he was when the nurse had called, I thought.

  "Jesse," I called, moving toward the living room. I listened again, but I didn't hear him anywhere downstairs. It occurred to me that he could be in the back, working on the grass or staining the wooden landing. I hurried to the rear door and stepped out.

  Circles of maddening insects hovered above the recently cut grass, but Jesse was nowhere in sight. My heart sank. I knew where he was. I knew it the moment I had driven up with the school nurse, but I had gone through the motions, searching for him everywhere else, in hopes I was wrong. It was time to stop burying my head in the sand, time to stop the lying. If we were going to help Karen, we would do it together.

  I returned to the stairway and ascended, glancing once into Jesse's room to be sure he wasn't there. The silence told me he was in the attic. Why was it so silent? If he didn't know I had come home or hadn't seen the nurse's car, there was no reason for him to be so quiet with Karen. Perhaps they had left together to carry out some sort of plan.

  I hesitated at the attic door, listening hard. I thought I did hear some low murmuring, so I closed my eyes, sucked in my breath, and turned the knob. Once I entered the attic, I thought, it was over, the pretending was over. I stepped in softly, slowly, and for a moment, I thought the attic was empty. Then I saw them.

  They were naked on the sofa, our sofa, the sofa where Karen and I had staged so many fantasies, imagined trips, and spun out so many dreams. It wasn't hard to see what they were doing. It was Karen who saw me first, turning her head to the right. I heard her say, "Oh," and then Jesse turned.

  I couldn't stand there. I stepped back, shutting the door hard and fast, and then charged down the attic steps. It was as if I had sprouted wings. I flew down the main stairway and burst out the front door. All I could think to do was run, flee, escape from the sight and the memory that clung to me like the cans malicious young boys tied to the tail of a poor dog. Somehow, I thought if I ran harder, faster, I could block out the memory and the shock of it all, but it wasn't working, and my chest felt as if it was expanding to the point where my ribs would crack and I would just come apart on the road.

  "Zipporah!" I heard. "Zipporah, wait!"

  I stopped running and glanced back. Jesse was in his pants, barefoot and shirtless, charging after me. I just turned away and walked, holding my side to stop the pain. Fortunately, there were no cars, no one. The road looked as if it led to nowhere. The thickened forest was still, and I realized there wasn't even a slight breeze. It was as if the whole world had stopped turning for a moment to wait and to see.

  "Zipporah," Jesse said, and reached out to grab my left arm at the elbow. I stopped, but I didn't turn. I kept my head down. "What are you doing home from school?" he asked as if all that I had seen and all that had happened was somehow my fault. I didn't reply. I simply stood there, staring at the road.

  "I know this looks weird, frightening, but I can explain it," he said.

  I took a deep breath. A crow came flying out of a tree ahead of us, swooped toward the road, and lifted itself over the tops of the pine and the birch. How I wished I could grab onto it and go wherever it was going.

  "Yesterday, I discovered Karen had come to our house," Jesse continued.

  I turned and looked at him.

  "She was desperate. She had gone to New York and had a horrible time of it. She came to our house for help. I couldn't turn her out."

  "I saw the help you were giving her," I said sharply.

  My big brother, who had loomed somewhere near Mars in the celestial skies for me, had suddenly fallen to earth. In his pants, barefoot and shirtless, he seemed smaller, even embarrassing, to the point where I was worried someone would come along and see me with him. I pulled my arm from his grasp and started toward the house.

  How would I play this? Would I go along with Karen's deception and enjoy the role of the violated, disappointed sister, or would I spin on him and tell him the whole truth and watch him shrink even more before my very eyes? How had Karen behaved after she saw me in the doorway? Did she cry and pretend they had hurt me by keeping her secret?

  "Wait, Zipporah, please," he begged. I kept walking. "She's your best friend," he added in desperation. I stopped and turned back to him.

  "So? How does that make it any better, Jesse?" "Look," he said, walking slowly to me, "I know it wasn't nice for you to see that, but I've had a crush on Karen for a long time. I was writing to her from college. She never told you?"

  "No," I said. "You were writing to her?"

  Never once had he written to me.

  "Yes, and I called her a few times. I guess she thought it was better to keep it a secret for a while, and then all this happened--exploded, I should say."

  I shook my head, disbelieving. I thought I was the one deceiving everyone, especially my parents, and all this time, Jesse was in touch with Karen? He was actually deceiving me.

  "I'm sorry I never told you, but I thought that after I started college, I'd be so involved in the social life there, I would forget her. I didn't, and then all this," he said. "I'm sorry."

  My anger toward him shifted more toward Karen. All those times we shared our secrets, our sexual and romantic fantasies, she never revealed any of this.

  "It's not so unusual for a guy my age to like a girl your age, Zipporah. There's nearly seven years' difference between Dad and Mom, you know."

  "I don't care. You can run off and elope with her for all I care," I snapped back at him, and continued toward the house, walking quickly now. He ran to catch up.

  "I'm not going to run off with her, but you have to feel sorry for her, for what's happened, don't you? We can't just throw her out now."

  I spun on him again, this time so sharply he stopped and actually leaned back as if he expected me to swing at him.

  "You know what, Jesse? I used to think you were so smart, miles above me, but Karen is right about one thing. All you boys want the same thing and don't care how foolish you look or act, as long as you get it. I'm glad I saw you two. I'm glad you're not my big hero anymore. I'm glad I have both my feet on the ground, and at this moment, I feel sorrier for you than I do for her or myself or anyone."

  "Zipporah . .

  "Just shut up," I said. "I'm going up to the attic. I don't want you to follow. You wait in your room until I come down," I ordered. I had never used such an authoritative tone with him, but I was thrust into the role of the more mature, more responsible of the two of us.

  He nodded and didn't follow me to the house until I reached the front door. He started after me, and I entered. I half expected Karen to be waiting downstairs, but she wasn't there. I climbed the stairway and walked up to the attic door. She was standing by the window that faced the front of the house. She was wearing one of my skirts and blouses. I waited. I knew she knew I was there, but she wasn't turning around so quickly. Finally, she did and smiled

  "Sorry about that," she said. "Always knock before entering a room, my mother says." She walked toward me, still smiling. "In her case, it mattered even more. She slipped men into the house. so quietly and easily. I used to think she pulled t
hem in under the door. I'd be sitting there having breakfast the next morning, and some strange man would come into the kitchen, pour himself a cup of coffee, and smile at me. Half the time, they were in their briefs, and one guy even came in naked. I had to pretend it didn't bother me. I had to be cool, sophisticated. Sometimes my mother wouldn't even tell me their names or explain a thing. She would act as though it had been a dream of mine"

  "Maybe it was," I said. "Maybe you're just giving me one lie after another."

  "You're just mad right now. You shouldn't be." "You never told me he was writing to you and calling you. Why not?"

  "Look at you. Look at how angry you are. That's why. I knew it would bother you. What's that joke I told you about the little boy who learned how he was made by his parents? Remember? He looked at them and said, 'My mother, never. My father, I believe."

  She laughed and then turned serious, even angry- looking herself. "You put him on too high a pedestal, Zipporah. He's just like any other boy. Remember when I told you to read his journal? I was trying to get you to discover things, but you were too goody- goody about it. Not you, not Zipporah Stein read someone's secret journal, especially Mr. Perfect's journal."

  "Shut up," I said.

  "So you're going to blame me for everything? You're going to continue to keep him on some pedestal?"

  I looked away and then glanced at our sofa. "Were you with him before this, too?"

  "Once. I came to your house, and you were somewhere with your father. Your mother was at work, and Jesse was here. Look," she said, "if you were in my shoes, you would have done the same thing And don't try to be Miss Perfect yourself. You did go with Dana Martin that night, and it wasn't to talk about world events:'

  "You wanted me to be with him just so I'd be like you. That's what you said. You meant all of it. This especially," I said.

  She shrugged. "It's hard when your girlfriend is so pure, and you're not. It's better when you're both . . . complete," she said.

  I sat on the sofa. "You should tell him the truth now," I told her. "You should tell him you were here already, and I was helping you. Why didn't you?"

  "It was more important to me to protect you. Even now, even though I'm the one in the big mess, I was thinking first about you:' she said.

  "It's not right. He should know it all."

  "So we'll tell him, if you think that's best. He'll probably take it well and not blame you for anything He's not mean. He's actually a sweetheart," she said. She sat beside me and took my hand. "C'mon;, don't blame anyone for this. It happened. It happens. Someday, something like it will happen to you, too. It's not healthy to feel guilty and dirty afterward, Zipporah. There's no reason to, anyway. My mother certainly doesn't," she added.

  I was silent. So many emotions and

  contradictory thoughts were entwining within me. I felt as if I might just start spinning like a top and never stop.

  "Besides, it's better now that we have someone with Jesse's intelligence helping us. He'll find a solution, as long as you let him. If you pout and hate us both, I'll just leave, and that's that."

  I almost said, "Just go." but then we heard Jesse call out. "Hey! Can I come up?"

  Karen looked at me.

  "Come up," I shouted back to him.

  Karen squeezed my hand, and we both looked at the open attic doorway. Jesse stepped in meekly. I saw his right foot was bleeding.

  "What happened to your foot?" Karen asked first. "I must have stepped on some glass or something out on the road. It looks worse than it is."

  "Well, go wash it, stupid," she told him. "Yeah, I will. How are you two doing?"

  "Just peachy keen," she said. "Will you go wash that? If you tracked blood up the stairs, you'd better wash that away as well."

  "Right." He looked at me.

  "Go ahead, Jesse," I said. "We'll come downstairs." He nodded and hopped out on one foot.

  "Thanks," Karen said, and hugged me. I didn't hug her back. She didn't seem to notice. She was up and out the attic door, chasing after Jesse.

  We joined him in the upstairs bathroom and watched him wash, disinfect, and bandage his foot.

  "I told you to put on your shoes," Karen said.

  Jesse nodded. "Don't worry about it. I'm fine. Let's not think about me now. Let's think about you. I'm going to try to find out if the police have questioned your mother and what she told them."

  "How are you going to do that?" I asked him.

  "I'll be at Dad's office tomorrow. He can make some calls. I'll get him to do it."

  "How?" I pursued. He was no longer the miracle worker to me.

  "I'll make him realize you feel alone out there with the story, and it's important you get some vindication, some support. Give me a chance. For now, just don't be happy about it."

  "I look happy to you?"

  "You know what I mean."

  "What if they find out we're hiding her up in the attic, Jesse?"

  "They won't if we're careful about it."

  I looked at Karen. Was this the time to tell him the whole truth? She just held her soft smile, waiting to see what decision I would make I didn't come right out with the truth. Instead, I skirted it by saying, "Both of us are deceiving them now, Jesse."

  He smiled. "They won't find out if we do everything correctly. Karen won't make a sound, and we'll make sure she has what she needs. It's not for long, anyway. So, why did you come home from school?"

  "I didn't feel well," I said. I wasn't going to tell him the reason, not now.

  "Are you all right?"

  "No, but I'll manage," I said petulantly.

  He nodded. "Okay, let's get some stuff together for Karen. Dad might be home before Mom today."

  We went down to the kitchen and put together Karen's dinner and breakfast and filled water bottles. While Jesse and I did that, Karen picked out 'some things to read. My mother called after she had spoken to the nurse, and I told her I was all right, that it was just a little stomach upset.

  "I'm even hungry again," I added, to relieve her from worry.

  "Okay, then. It's probably because of the tension you're under. If anything changes, let me know. I'll call your father at the office."

  While I spoke to my mother, Karen and Jesse carried everything upstairs. When I went up, I saw she was settled in the attic again, looking cool and unaffected by anything that had just occurred.

  "Are you sure you'll be all right up here like this?" Jesse asked her anyway.

  "Oh, yes." She looked at me. "Thank you," she said. She stepped up to us both and put her arms around me and Jesse, burying her head in his shoulder but holding us both tightly. "You're my only family now," she said when she stepped back.

  "Don't worry," Jesse said. "We'll bring this to a head and get it right."

  She smiled and, after glancing at me, leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. We turned and started out, looking back once to see her standing in the dwindling light of the sun sinking behind the trees on the west.

  The shadows looked eager to swallow her and imprison her in their darkness once again. Despite it all, I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. I wanted to hate her, but my heart drove those feelings deep down and away.

  "I love you, Zipporah," she whispered loudly enough for me to hear.

  "I love you, too," I heard myself say. It was truly as if someone else within me was saying it.

  I saw the look in Jesse's eyes. He really and truly did admire us for our close friendship. He had his share of buddies and good friends, but nothing compared to how Karen and I were. Maybe it was just a girl thing

  I followed him out and closed the attic door. We descended the steps slowly, and at the base, he turned to me, looked up at the closed door, nodded, and said, "I have an idea. We're going someplace tonight after dinner."

  "Where?"

  "To the Bates Motel," he said. "You know where I mean?"

  "Yes."

  "Are you okay with it?"

  "Yes," I said, but I was more f
rightened than I had ever been.

  19 At the Bates Motel

  That night Jesse started on his plan to get Daddy to make the calls to the district attorney. He made a reference to it at dinner and presented it in such a way that it did look as if he was thinking only of me. Daddy agreed he was right. That plus my mother obviously telling him I had stomach problems because I was so nervous and tense these days made him promise to try. As I was helping Mama with the dishes, Jesse returned to the kitchen and asked if I wanted to go with him to a department store outside Monticello. He said it was open for another hour, at least. Because Monticello was the county seat and the biggest village, that was credible.

  However, Mama shook her head and smiled at him skeptically. "You're just asking her to go so you can try to pry out the surprise we're expecting tomorrow," she told him

  Jesse pretended that was the reason but added that he and I spent too little time together. I know my mother thought he was implying that he was going to talk to me about the Pearson tragedy and try to cheer me up.

  "Your brother's right," she said. "Go ahead. I can finish here. There's not much left to do."

  We hurried out to his car.

  "That was close," Jesse said. "I thought she wasn't going to let you go."

  "What exactly are we going to do, Jesse?" I asked as we backed out of the driveway.

  "A little police work," he said. "Don't worry. We'll be extra careful."

  I noticed he had a camera.

  "What are we taking pictures of?"

  "Not sure, but let's wait to see," he said cryptically.

  The village was its characteristic sleepy self. There was nearly no traffic, and the only storefront light was from the bar and grill. Sparky was out in front, as usual, and raised his head when we paused at the blinker. The wind lifted some paper and made it dance on and off the walk until it settled on the street. Jesse shook his head at the empty streets and sidewalks.

  "Reminds me of the movie On the Beach," he said. "The end of the world."

  "It feels like that tonight," I said. For some reason, I was whispering. It did seem to fit what we were doing and where I expected we were going.