Secrecy

by Belva Plain

  In his bathrobe, barefoot, Ted followed Cliff down the stairs. And again the sight of him came as a shock; defeat and defiance, in contradiction of each other, were written on his face and in his very posture.

  “Sit down,” commanded Cliff. “I want you to eat a decent breakfast. Make some bacon and eggs, Claudia. Make plenty. He can’t be allowed to deteriorate. He’ll be needing his strength.”

  “Have you—”

  “Yes, I’ve told him.”

  It was a relief to be out of the room and to busy her hands in the kitchen. Delaying her return, she made a batch of pancakes and squeezed a whole pitcherful of fresh orange juice. Cliff can do more for Ted than I can, she admitted.

  When she returned with breakfast, Cliff was saying, “You’ll be having one of the best lawyers in the state. Try to relax, Ted. Try to feel confident. I know it must be damn hard,” he added kindly. “By the way, it would be a good idea to wear a suit and tie and shave that three days’ growth.” And turning to Claudia he added, “I’ll take him. Let this be my job.”

  Unresponding, Ted slumped in the chair. He had a habit now of cracking his knuckles, a new and repulsive habit that made Claudia wince. Before her eyes he was falling apart.

  “Suppose you eat your breakfast while I finish mine, Ted, and you finish yours, Claudia. You need your strength too.”

  “Oh, I can live off my fat,” she replied, making a weak attempt at good humor, which failed as she might have expected it to.

  Quickly and in silence the meal was completed. “I’ll drive you downtown this afternoon,” Cliff said as they left the table. “But don’t worry, I’m not going in with you. This is your private business. I do want to urge one thing, though. You must tell Raleigh the whole truth, the whole truth, Ted, if you want him to help you.”

  “I tell the truth,” Ted shouted, his eyes darting at Cliff.

  “No, Ted, you don’t. The accounts you gave to your mother and me are not the same as the ones presented to the grand jury.”

  “Why do you believe them and not me?”

  “There’s evidence, Ted, you know there is, you’ve been told. It’s childish of you to keep up your denials in the face of evidence.” Pausing, Cliff seemed to be holding something back. Then he said quietly, “You lied about Charlotte, and God knows, she had proof enough.”

  “You still won’t believe that it could have been someone else, will you?”

  “I can’t bear this,” Claudia said, close to tears. “It’s indecent, Ted, I don’t recognize you.”

  “You see why I don’t come down here, why I stay in my room? There’s no talking to you, either one of you. I’m going back up to my room.”

  Cliff called after him, ignoring the outburst, “Be dressed and ready at three.”

  “I need another cup of coffee,” Claudia said. “I need the caffeine to keep me going.” And she sat for a moment musing, with the comforting hot cup between her hands. “Cliff, is there any chance of showing some psychological problem, maybe getting a doctor, I mean, so that he’d go to a hospital instead of—”

  Cliff shook his head. “I’ve asked Miller and I’ve asked around. The answer is no. These boys who go in for date rape with injuries, and that’s what this is—of a particularly nasty sort too—go to prison. Frankly, although I’m deeply sorry for Ted, as I’m sorry for any human being, even a criminal, who has messed up the only life he’ll ever have, I believe he deserves to be punished. He’s a wise-guy football hero. He thinks he’s God’s gift to the girls, especially, I’m sure, after he’s had a few beers.”

  “You spoke about the lawyer’s helping him. I’m sorry if I sound stupid—I don’t think very clearly these days—but what can he do? Not that Ted shouldn’t be punished. I know that too.”

  “They’ll try for a shorter prison term, Claudia.”

  She saw in Cliff’s eyes that he was suffering because of her suffering. So she said resolutely, “You need a nap. I insist. Go upstairs, or go lie in the hammock and rest. You can be ready for Ted by three.”

  Claudia was in the kitchen mixing the salad when Cliff and Ted came home. The moment Ted walked in, she saw that he had been crying. But not wanting to embarrass him, she pretended not to notice and spoke cheerfully.

  “Dinner’ll be ready in a second. Let’s eat, and afterward you can tell us about Mr. Raleigh.”

  Ted gave her a long look. “Just like that. Let’s eat. There’s nothing unusual going on. We’re just a happy family. So let’s eat.”

  Stricken, she dropped the spoon. No matter what she said these days, it turned out to be wrong. She was clumsy.

  “Ted, I didn’t mean … I’m sorry, I only meant … All right, tell me now. How was it?”

  “How do you think it was? It was bad.”

  “Here. Sit down. Tell me.”

  When automatically she looked at Cliff, he nodded slightly in confirmation; then, clearly much distressed, he went to the cupboard and filled two bowls with kibble for the dogs.

  “Sit down, Ted,” she repeated.

  “No. He can’t do anything, your first-class lawyer. He can’t get me off.”

  “But you can’t expect to get off, Ted. It’s a question now of how much you’ll have to—”

  “They claim I broke her nose. I didn’t mean to if I did. A little rough sex—” He broke off, and she saw that he was too overwrought to say more. “I’m going up. Leave me alone.”

  “I’m so helpless,” Claudia cried when he had gone, “so scared, so worried about him.”

  “And I’m worried about you,” Cliff replied.

  “Did he tell you anything on the way home? His eyes were red. He was crying, wasn’t he?”

  “Sobbing. He’s terribly afraid. Frantic and furious. He can’t face the thought of a prison sentence, which is understandable, God knows.”

  “Yes. God knows.”

  Later that evening she knocked on Ted’s door to tell him that she had brought something to eat.

  Without opening the door he answered, “I don’t want it.”

  Nevertheless, she left the tray on the floor. In the morning when she found the tray still there, untouched, she called to him, pleading.

  “Don’t be foolish, Ted. You can’t starve yourself because of this trouble. You have to get through it. You’ve a long life ahead.”

  “Go away,” he answered.

  “I’m going to take this tray and bring back a hot breakfast for you. Don’t do this to me, Ted. You’re treating me badly. If you don’t care about yourself, think about me. You were never like this to me before.”

  “Leave me alone,” he said.

  Weary, filled with despair, she left a breakfast outside his door and went away. Cliff had a day filled with errands downtown. Too restless even to read the morning newspaper, she stood at the window looking out at the sunshine. Two squirrels chased each other across the lawn and up a maple tree. A few yellowing leaves floated to the ground. The house at her back, in contrast, held not brightness, but a threatening gloom; in its silence the mantel clock’s tick-tock was ominous. She had an impulse to flee from it, to fling open the door and run outside, yet she did not.

  After a while she went to the kitchen, reflecting that she had done more intensive cooking since this trouble than she had done for months before. She had almost stocked the freezer full with durable items, casseroles, soups, and pie crusts, and now she was about to add more. Somehow when her hands were busy, her mind knew a little relief.

  She was rolling out dough when she heard Ted come down the stairs. Neatly dressed, he looked like his old self.

  “I’m going downtown for a while,” he said before she could frame a question.

  Hope flashed through Claudia. Perhaps he was reconsidering, accepting the reality of punishment, dreadful as it was, and seeing beyond it. She had tried so hard to make him see!

  “Enjoy yourself,” she said. “It’s a beautiful day.”

  The afternoon was late, Cliff had returned, and she w
as just about finished with her work, when Ted came home.

  “Hey, look at all this!” he exclaimed. “You’ve been cooking up a storm.”

  She was astonished. Here stood the old Ted, the boy with the easy nonchalance!

  “Why, yes,” she said, “so I have. A beef stew, that’s for tonight, hot out of the oven, and a peach pie. The rest goes into the freezer.”

  “When do we eat? I’m starved.”

  “I’ll bet you are. We can eat right now. Go call Cliff. He’s reading someplace.”

  Across the table Claudia met Cliff’s questioning glances, which were as surprised as her own. Ted said little, but what he did say was entirely agreeable and calm; he had seen a movie that afternoon and bought a pair of shoes.

  “Well, this is nice,” Cliff said. “Nice to be eating together again.”

  She wondered ruefully whether in the circumstances he could possibly mean what he was saying, but nevertheless, she was thankful for his effort to mend and heal, and she waited for Ted’s response.

  It came promptly. “Especially with peach pie like this. It’s the best ever. I could eat a third piece.”

  After dinner he kissed Claudia and went to his room to lie down, “because that’s what dogs do,” he said with a grin. “Haven’t you noticed? When their stomachs are full, they rest. This was great food, Mom.”

  “What do you make of this?” asked Claudia. “I think I’m dreaming it.”

  Cliff said thoughtfully, “He’s probably, at great pains, worked things through and had some sort of an epiphany. He’s decided to take his medicine and—well, the word reform can be misused, but it’s certainly possible that he realizes finally and fully what he’s done and is now off in the right direction. Or maybe he went back and talked to that counselor today. That’s possible too. Who knows? We’ll get through this yet, Claudia. Mark my words. Come on, let’s take a walk.”

  They took a long walk on the familiar route toward the lake, past cornfields now cut to stubble, past laden apple orchards and a farmer’s stand with zinnias and dahlias for sale, where they bought a bouquet wrapped in green tissue paper.

  “I’m beginning to feel a little like myself again,” Claudia said on the way back. “It’s not that I’m a Pollyanna because, of course, I know there’s a bad time ahead. Still, if Ted can get through it, he can be a better person. Fundamentally, he’s honorable and decent.” She grasped Cliff’s arm, forcing him to look down at her. “You’ve been such a help to him, and a godsend to me. I can’t even begin to thank you.”

  “No thanks between lovers,” he said.

  They went early to bed and slept better than they had in a long time. It had been a better day.

  Cliff was always first up in the morning to let the dogs out. When Claudia followed a few minutes later, she was surprised to see Ted’s bedroom door open. She looked in. The room was vacant.

  “Ted!” she called.

  There was no answer. She ran downstairs where Cliff was watching the early news on television.

  “Is Ted here?”

  “No. Isn’t he in his room?”

  “No. That’s odd. Where can he be?”

  “Out, obviously. Nothing odd about it.”

  “So early?” she said, vaguely alarmed.

  There had been a strange feeling about his room. Not able to remember exactly what the strangeness was, she went back upstairs, and this time saw at once what was strange: The doors on each of the two closets were wide open.

  Now her alarm took shape. She ran her eyes over the clothes rod. Half Ted’s clothes were missing. There were marks of haste, empty hangers left lying on the floor and shoes, old scuffed ones, overturned. His new suitcase, along with his backpack, bought months ago for a promised family trip, were gone from the top shelf. In panic now, she surveyed the room. Drawers in the high chest were open, some emptied. The clock was missing from the night table.

  Half hysterically, she ran to the head of the stairs and shouted, “Cliff, Cliff! Ted’s gone!”

  He came bounding up, crying, “What? What?”

  “Gone! Come look.”

  In the glare of morning light the room lay unmistakably abandoned. Claudia began to weep. Cliff sat down on the disheveled bed.

  “The bastard!” he said. “What’s he doing to you?” He got up. “Maybe there’s a note. Have you looked?”

  There was nothing.

  “Look in the leather box. He keeps money in it.”

  “No money. It’s empty.”

  A light flared in her memory. “His passport. He got it for our vacation. He kept it in that box.”

  “It’s not here.”

  Abruptly, as incredible fear took their place, her tears ceased. Ted was out on bail, in custody of his parents. They were responsible. He was not supposed to leave Kingsley unless he was with them, and certainly not allowed to leave the country, even with them.

  Shivering, she whispered a futile question. “Where can he possibly have gone?”

  Cliff did not answer her. He gave a low whistle instead. “Jumped bail. God almighty, he’s jumped bail.”

  “We must call Bill,” she said, still whispering.

  “Bill took Elena to Boston. He’ll be back late tomorrow. Anyway, he’s no lawyer. I need Miller. No, the new one. What’s his name? I can’t think.”

  “Raleigh. You’d better call him. Unless—are we being too hasty? Ted might be—”

  “Might be what? After sneaking out with his luggage and a passport, you don’t think he’s gone down the road to visit Bud, do you?”

  She thought her heart would faint in her chest. “He has no money,” she said.

  “He must have. I’ll find Raleigh’s number at home. Must let Miller know too.”

  Was it only last evening that she had told Cliff how fundamentally honorable her son was?

  While Cliff was telephoning, she stayed in Ted’s room, unable to move. The room was so innocent! You would have expected it to reveal something more about its occupant than was revealed by a display of athletic trophies and a row of textbooks, these artifacts of an ordinary high school life. But she was being naive, and she knew it.

  Presently the doorbell rang, and she heard Cliff talking. Apparently Mr. Raleigh had wasted no time in getting here. Pausing before the hall mirror, she saw a frightened, flushed face suddenly become old. She wished she had done her hair; it would have restored a trifle of the dignity that in the last few minutes she had lost. It is my son who has done this, she said. My son. Then she went in to where the men were.

  Mr. Raleigh was young, with a keen expression and a smudge of shaving cream on his earlobe. He had been sufficiently alarmed by the news to dress and rush over here in fifteen minutes. In fact, he was already on his way out again.

  “We’ll have to see what the day brings,” he said. “It certainly doesn’t look as if Ted plans to come back. However—well, there’ll have to be notification, which I shall take care of right away. The police will have to question you people, so you’d better stay home. And you’ll also need to be considering the financial aspect. You understand, Mr. Dawes.”

  “ ‘Cliff.’ Make it ‘Cliff’ and ‘Claudia.’ It looks as if we’ll be in frequent contact from now on,” Cliff said grimly.

  “Okay, I’m Kevin. I’ll be in touch.”

  The financial aspect. Oh, yes, Claudia thought. Four hundred thousand dollars or forfeit this house. My son. Oh, God. What have I done to Cliff—and to Bill?

  “I know very well what you’re thinking,” Cliff said when they were alone. He put his arms around her bent shoulders. “But I order you to stop thinking it. Let’s have breakfast and keep ourselves steady until they come.”

  It was not long before they came, two men in blue, a lieutenant and a captain. There must be a reason, she thought irrelevantly, why they come in pairs. There were two the day they took him away. The younger one, the one who had pitied Ted, had red hair. Her mind was wandering. She forced it back to reality.

&n
bsp; Cliff counted on his fingers. “The Maxwell boy, Bud, the Lewis family on Hay Street, the McCloud twins—that’s about eight. I can’t think of any more friends.”

  “He had so many, he was very popular, you see,” Claudia interposed, “—that is, until all this happened. He hasn’t seen any of them since.”

  “We’ll check those, anyway,” the captain said. “We’ve already got people checking the bus station. Unless some friend took him in a car, the bus is the only way he could have gotten out of town.”

  “It must have been the middle of the night when he left,” Cliff said.

  “There’s a midnight bus out of town, and another at six A.M. to Arkville, Lorimer, all the way downriver to connect with the interstate lines.”

  The men exchanged possibilities, Cliff asking whether it was possible in this time of electronic miracles for a person simply to vanish forever.

  “Very difficult—almost impossible, you might say,” the captain replied, “and yet it happens sometimes. Take your terrorist who has five passports. With money you can buy a stolen passport and have it altered. Or with bribe money you can sign on to a cargo freighter without any passport. You can disappear for years in some of the craziest places.”

  “Really disappear,” Claudia echoed.

  “But as I said, not often, Mrs. Dawes. Remember how they found some guy in Indonesia? He’d been missing for six years. It was in the papers. Eventually they turn up.”

  She thought of something. “Do you need some pictures? I can get copies made right away.”

  The captain smiled. “Not necessary. We have everything.”

  “Of course.” They had mug shots and fingerprints. They had everything.

  And at that moment the captain said, “Yes, I guess we have everything.” On the front step he hesitated, adding, “This is mighty hard on you folks. You won’t remember, Mr. Dawes, but my father worked for you in the mill until he got his pension, and a mighty good one it was too. The Dawes mill always treated everybody right. You don’t deserve this trouble.”

  “Thank you,” Cliff said. “My wife doesn’t deserve it either.”

  “Well, we don’t always get what we deserve, that’s for sure.”