Secrets Rising

by Sally Berneathy

  Mary broke into hysterical giggles. "You lied! The most honest person I've ever met and because of me you've turned into a liar."

  Brenda laughed softly. "And a darned good one, if I do say so myself. I was pretty impressed that I came up with all that stuff!"

  "What am I going to do?"

  "Just off hand, I'd say you're going to have a baby, and pretty quick now. Beyond that, if you want to tell Jerry and me what's going on, maybe we can help you decide how to handle it."

  Mary leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, trying to find a position that didn't make her back hurt. "I can't tell you. I told someone, and now he's dead."

  Brenda squatted beside the chair. "That's not going to happen to Jerry and me. A psychic assured me once that I'm going to be very wealthy before I die, and we're pretty broke right now, so I figure I have a lot of years to go."

  Mary found herself smiling in spite of everything. Brenda could always make her...or anyone else...smile. But even as her lips curved upward, tears sprang to her eyes. "You are rich, Brenda. You have a beautiful spirit, a wonderful husband, lots of people who love you. I can't put you in danger."

  "Jane...or is it Mary?"

  "It's Mary." The pain in her back increased, tensing the muscles in her stomach.

  "Mary, do you really think this Charles person is going to believe you've lived with us all this time and not told us the whole story? He'll assume we know, so you might as well tell us. That way we can be prepared."

  Whether she knew what Brenda said was true or whether she couldn't stand the stress any longer, Mary heaved a long sigh then began to talk, at first hesitantly, then faster and faster, hurrying past the worst parts, not wanting to relive them.

  When she finished, she was out of breath, and tears streamed down Brenda's ashen face.

  "Mary, you have to tell the authorities. Charles has to be stopped!"

  Pain, from the memories, from her back, from all over her body, rolled around and through her, stabbing, squeezing, obscuring her vision. "Charles is the authority. I'm telling you, police stick together. They uphold each other, no matter what. You just saw that! This officer who doesn't even know him is helping him. You can never tell anyone. Swear!" The last word ended on a note that came perilously close to being a scream.

  Brenda sprang to her feet. "Omigosh! You're in labor!"

  "No, it's not time yet. I have to—" She didn't know what it was she had to do.

  Get away from Charles. But she didn't know how.

  "Time or not, you're having our baby right now! Stay there! I'll get Jerry!"

  "I need to get up. I need to go." She pushed halfway to her feet, but the pain slammed her back.

  Brenda disappeared for an indefinite period of time—a minute or an hour, Mary couldn't be certain. Pain rushing over her, receding then returning, was the only certain thing in her life right now.

  Finally Brenda returned with Jerry. He leaned over her. "How you doing, kid?"

  She gritted her teeth until the pain receded and she could breathe. "I'm okay," she said, trying to sound as if she meant it.

  "You'll have to carry her!" Brenda exclaimed. "She can't get up."

  "Of course I can."

  But Jerry scooped Mary up in his arms. "No problem. She and the baby together don't weigh as much as that furniture you've always got me moving around."

  He carried her out to their old station wagon and settled her in the back seat.

  Brenda climbed in beside her. "Mary, listen to me. Everything's going to be fine. The bad stuff is over. You're having a baby, and that's a beautiful miracle. Jerry and I will be right here. We'll raise this baby, the three of us." She smiled and patted Mary's hand. "They've been doing it in communes for years, having lots of parents for each child. So we'll just have our very own mini hippie commune. Or maybe that's hippie mini commune. Otherwise it sounds like a tiny little hippie."

  Mary tried to laugh but another pain turned it into a groan.

  "I'm being funny but I'm not joking," Brenda said quietly. "You know we want you and your baby to stay with us. You know we're as excited about this baby as you are. This kid's got it made with all of us just waiting to spoil it rotten!"

  "Her," Mary said. "It's a girl. Ben said it's a girl. He said he knows these things and she's a girl."

  With Ben's eyes and nose and dark hair, please God.

  ***

  The love inside so fierce it made her dizzy, Mary lay on her side in the hospital bed, curled around her baby, around Rebecca. She'd been reluctant to name her Sharise, reluctant to leave any possible links Charles might pick up on.

  "Rebecca," she whispered, touching the soft blond fuzz, marveling again at the tiny hands and feet, the wonder of this precious child who almost hadn't been allowed to survive. "If only your daddy could be here to see you." She bit back the tears that still came when she thought of Ben.

  "But your daddy's not here. Because of what I did, he's not here. He was trying to protect us. Your daddy's a hero."

  As if she knew what was being said, Rebecca opened her unfocused blue eyes and waved her fists.

  "Hi, sweet girl. Are you waking up?"

  Rebecca pursed her miniature lips, sighed and settled back to sleep.

  Mary tried to stop herself from searching Rebecca's features for Ben. A three-day old baby looked like other three-day old babies, not like her mother or her father.

  This baby is ours. I don't care whose eyes or hair she has, who started the process. I don't care who planted the seed. It's our baby. One of the last things Ben had said to her.

  "I don't care, either, Rebecca," she whispered. "I loved you from the time you were a cluster of cells, multiplying hourly and making me throw up every morning. I loved you so much then, I thought I couldn't possibly love you more. Then you started to move, like butterfly wings beneath my heart, and I did love you more. Every day my love for you grew as you grew, but I never knew how much I could love until the first time I held you in my arms." She kissed the soft cheek. "I failed your daddy, but I won't fail you, no matter what it takes. I'll move heaven and earth for you, sweetheart. I promise."

  The door flew open and Brenda charged in carrying a huge purple teddy bear. Jerry followed with Mary's suitcase.

  "How are both our girls? We're here to take you home! Look what I brought for Rebecca!"

  "And I brought her mommy some clothes so she doesn't have to leave here in that awful hospital gown." Jerry set the bag beside the bathroom door.

  Mary sat up in bed, holding her child against her breast. "Has he been back?" she asked, as she'd asked every time Brenda had come to see her. Rebecca whimpered, and Mary realized she was holding her too tightly.

  "No, the officer hasn't been back. The other girls at the diner can hardly wait to see the baby! Come to Aunt Brenda while your mommy gets dressed."

  Though Mary hated to turn loose of her daughter for even a moment, she relinquished her to Brenda. At least she could still see Rebecca, not like when the infant was out of her sight in the nursery. During those agonizing hours, she spent most of her time going up and down the hall to check on Rebecca, reassure herself her baby was still there, still all right.

  Brenda cuddled Rebecca and cooed over her while Mary took the suitcase and went into the bathroom to change.

  "Look at that," she heard Jerry say, "she has knuckles! And fingernails."

  "She has everything. She's perfect," Brenda told him. "Here. You hold her."

  Mary walked out in time to see Jerry take the small bundle tentatively, as if accepting a priceless, fragile piece of crystal. Not too far off, she thought.

  He studied the baby intently, then touched her smooth forehead with one big finger. "Hey, Rebecca! This is your Uncle Jerry. Can you say Uncle Jerry?" He looked up, a wide grin stretching his lips, his eyes full of wonder. "She's beautiful, Mary! You got everything just right."

  "Of course she's beautiful," Brenda agreed. "My turn to hold her again."

  "You'v
e had lots of turns. This is only the second time I've been here," Jerry protested. "You know what? She looks just like my grandfather."

  "Your grandfather?" Brenda exclaimed. "Oh, she most certainly does not!"

  "Sure she does. Bald head, no teeth, wrinkled red face. Uh, oh. She's leaking. You're right. Your turn."

  "Come on, I'll show you how to change a diaper."

  Mary sat on the edge of the bed, smiling as she watched Brenda and Jerry fuss over Rebecca. If only things weren't so crazy and she could settle down in Plano, near the Pattersons, let them be Rebecca's surrogate aunt and uncle.

  But for the rest of her life, she'd be running, looking over her shoulder. Her child would never know a stable home life.

  Unless—

  The idea punched her in the gut with the force of a sledgehammer...excruciating pain that knocked the breath from her.

  No, she couldn't do it, couldn't give up her daughter, couldn't live without her.

  But her daughter might not be able to live with her. How far would Charles go to destroy any possible evidence of what he'd done? He'd murdered Ben and tried to murder Rebecca before she was born. There was no reason to think he'd stop just because she was no longer in a womb.

  At best, Rebecca would have an erratic existence.

  Filled with love! Nobody could love her daughter as much as she did.

  Brenda and Jerry loved her baby. Brenda and Jerry Patterson had enough love for everybody, even a stranger who came to their restaurant and fainted.

  If she went back to Edgewater, told Charles she'd lost the baby and stayed always in his sight, deliberately led him away from her baby like the killdeer bird who pretended to have a broken wing and lured predators away from her nest, then Charles would stop looking for her child. He'd believe he was safe.

  And Rebecca would be safe.

  She looked at her daughter, kicking chubby legs as Brenda and Jerry struggled to get the bulky diaper in place.

  Did she love her enough to walk away from her, to place her in the care of others to insure that she'd have a good life...that she'd have a life?

  Mary licked her dry lips and swallowed around the lump in her throat.

  If Brenda and Jerry were willing, she had to do it. She had to leave her child without a backward glance, knowing she'd never see her again, never see her first tooth or her first step, never bake a cake for her birthday or see the wonder on her face at Christmas. If she did this, she could never have any contact with her daughter as long as Charles Morton lived.

  Pain, greater than any of her labor pains, knifed through every cell of her body and soul.

  She sent the pain away, knowing she couldn't do this if she allowed herself to feel. She'd have to turn her heart to granite, never permit herself any emotion except relief that her daughter was safe and happy.

  She walked over to Brenda and took her baby, holding the tiny person, savoring the feel of her soft skin, the blond fuzz on her head, the scent of her, memorizing her perfect features, storing it all away for the empty years ahead.

  Rebecca, my precious daughter, I won't be around to watch you grow up and celebrate a good report card or cry with you when you fall and skin your knee, but deep in your heart, in the blood we share, in your blue eyes and blond hair that came from me, in every cell of your body that developed from mine, I'll always be there and I'll always love you.

  Chapter 23

  Back in Dallas, Rebecca drove from the car rental place to her condo, pulling into the covered parking area behind the units. The complex, a small, quiet one comprised of renovated two-story apartments in the older Oak Lawn area close to downtown Dallas, had a dignified, gracious feel. Large live oak and magnolia trees provided privacy as well as shade.

  Moving slowly, as if uncertain of where she was going, she entered her unit through the kitchen door. Though she'd left the air conditioning set on low, the place had a closed-up, uninhabited odor. The familiar two-bedroom dwelling, decorated in subdued southwest style, seemed large, empty and unfamiliar. The silence rang loudly in her ears.

  Upstairs in her bedroom, she tossed her suitcase onto the king size bed which seemed to mock her with the huge, unused spaciousness. The motel bed she and Jake had shared had been a small double and more than big enough for the two of them.

  The ache she'd been fighting ever since she'd left Jake in Edgewater threatened to overpower her. If her world had crashed around her before, now that crash was doubled.

  She'd give anything to have her parents back, to run to Plano and have the man and woman who'd raised her to comfort her and make her laugh. To love her and always be there for her.

  Leaving the suitcase unopened on her bed, she pulled an overnight bag from the closet and filled it with clean clothes. She couldn't stay here tonight, couldn't sleep in that large, sterile bed or go downstairs to that subdued, sterile living area. She'd spend the weekend in Plano, reestablish contact with all the years she'd become detached from, get a firm footing in the past and then maybe she could go on to the future.

  ***

  Rebecca woke Monday morning in her old room. When she'd asked for time off work, she'd requested two weeks, so she had another week, but she couldn't stay here visiting the past forever. She'd spent the weekend regaining her parents then grieving for their loss and searching for a core of peace within herself.

  It was time to leave.

  She rose and made her bed, smoothing the faded spread with its floral pattern. Odd that she'd yearned to sleep beneath Doris Jordan's floral spread, completely forgetting that she had her own.

  Not really forgetting, she corrected. She'd just seen it so many times that she had ceased to really see it.

  She moved about the room, looking carefully at all the familiar, forgotten objects, storing them away to keep as a part of her...the lamp with a cola stain on the side of the shade that was always carefully turned to the wall, the battered chest of drawers, the durable white-painted iron bed frame where she'd gotten her head caught between the bars and screamed bloody murder until her mother had raced in to rescue her.

  She touched the cold metal and smiled, remembering how Brenda Patterson had made her laugh with her threats to pour cooking oil in her hair if her head didn't slip through, then had gently maneuvered that head safely to freedom.

  "I'm sorry I doubted you, Mom and Dad," she whispered. "I know you loved me, and I love you. And I miss you something awful. If only you were here, you'd know the exactly right thing to say to explain why those people acted so strange, why the woman who gave me to you didn't want me."

  They'd even be able to explain Jake.

  Not that she needed to have Jake explained. She understood him only too well. He'd been upfront with her from the beginning, never pretended to be anything other than what he was, never pretended that their relationship was anything other than temporary.

  She smiled as she imagined the way Brenda would come up with something witty and off-the-wall that would somehow put Jake in perspective.

  Her parents—Brenda and Jerry—had been very special people. Again she reflected on how lucky she'd been to have them. Whether her birth mother knew it or not, whether she cared or not, she'd done her daughter a big favor in turning her over to people who had the ability to love.

  Had her birth mother passed to her the same defective gene that had prevented her from wanting her own child? Would Rebecca be forever looking for love where it couldn't be found? That's what she'd been doing when she'd started searching for her biological parents. That's what she'd been doing when she got involved with Jake. Both were futile endeavors, best forgotten and relegated to the past.

  It was almost noon when she left the house.

  One day soon she'd have to go through and sort out the furnishings and personal items, decide what to keep and what to give away, finish the job she'd started the day she found the blue dress and the note.

  Someday, but not today.

  ***

  As she approached her
condo, she noticed in dismay that a fire truck was parked in the street. Had someone had a fire or was it a medical emergency? The units appeared intact, so it couldn't have been a major blaze. She hoped it was a grease fire or something minor, and that one of the complex's elderly residents hadn't had a heart attack...or worse.

  The front door to her unit stood open while firemen milled about!

  She came to a screeching halt in the street, got out and ran over.

  "What's going on?" she asked of the first fireman she saw.

  Jake appeared out of nowhere before the man could answer. Such a surge of ecstasy swept over her at the sight of him that she had to blink twice to assure herself it wasn't a fantasy or a case of mistaken identity, of her eyes seeing what her heart wanted.

  He strode up to her, anger flushing his face but not before she'd seen the concern and fear. He clutched her shoulders and she thought for one soaring moment that he was going to embrace her. With a sinking feeling, she realized that she hadn't progressed very far in getting him out of her system, relegating him to the past.

  "Where have you been?" he demanded.

  She shook off his grasp. "What are you doing here? Why is my door open? What's going on?"

  "This your place, lady?" the fireman asked.

  "Yes, it is. Will somebody please tell me what's happening?"

  "Place was full of gas. You left a burner on your cook stove going, and the flame went out. I think we've about got it cleared, but you ought to leave all the doors and windows open and your fan going the rest of the day. Might even want to sleep downstairs tonight. Gas rises. And in the future you sure need to be more careful, ma'am. If you'd been home, you'd be dead."