Scrapbook of Secrets

by Mollie Cox Bryan

  Ben fussed a bit when Annie dropped him off at day care—and she wondered if he’d gotten enough sleep. He was always more clingy when he was tired. His sobs made her ache as she forced herself to walk away from him. The best thing to do was to keep walking, Janet, the teacher, had told her when this first happened. It was only two half-days a week that he was there. But, God, it was hard. How did she not know if she was damaging her child forever by leaving him there?

  She took a deep breath and willed away her tears. She had no idea that parenting was going to be so painful, so fraught with moments of just not knowing if she was doing the right thing.

  She sat in her car and started it up. Jeez, what was she doing? Was this interview that important? This job? She wanted to run back into the daycare and grab her son. Her cell phone beeped. It was her editor.

  “Yes?”

  “Great piece, Annie. We all want more. Are you taking your camera today?”

  “Yes, sure.”

  “Okay, great. We need a few more photos with this piece. Okay?”

  “Sure. I’m on my way,” she said, then put the car into gear.

  She was being foolish. Ben would be fine. Taking another deep breath, hoping to settle her stomach, she pressed her foot on the gas pedal.

  It was one of those clear spring days that made Annie feel like she and Mike made the right move by picking up their lives and moving their family here. The farther she drove toward the outskirts, with the mountains looming in the distance, green fields on either side of her, the more at peace she felt. She wanted her boys surrounded by fields, mountains, and breathing fresh air.

  She was unprepared for the size of the bakery, though DeeAnn had told her it was a tourist trap. It definitely catered to tourists, with all the cutesy Mennonite cookbooks, trinkets, and “handmade” items, like quilts and crocheted blankets. Just the scent of sugar and lard that met people when they opened the door of the bakery was enough to put twenty pounds on a person.

  Tina Sue was already sitting with a doughnut and a cup of hot chocolate on the wood table in front of her. Annie ordered a cup of tea and a cheese biscuit. Four dollars for a biscuit?

  This was the second time she spoke with Tina Sue; the first was at the playground, after Maggie Rae’s death. Tina Sue looked better today, eyes less swollen and red, with just a bit of pink lipstick to give her a little color.

  “Thanks for agreeing to do the interview,” Annie said.

  “You’re quite welcome,” Tina Sue replied after sipping her cocoa. Her expression held something innocent, almost childlike as she sipped her chocolate drink. “I’m happy to help.”

  “There’s a lot of controversy surrounding your sister’s death. It must make it difficult on the family. How are you-all doing?”

  “We miss her. Especially the children do, of course. We’re trying to be strong for them. I’m glad school is almost out, because that will make it a little easier for them to manage. I teach school in Lynchburg and will be off for the summer, so I can stay with them until we find someone else.”

  “What do you think of all the controversy?” Annie asked, and bit into her dry biscuit. How disappointing. The biscuit was so beautiful, yet tasteless.

  “I’m not sure what you mean. A murder always has controversy, doesn’t it?”

  “Is that what you think happened?”

  “I never believed my sister would kill herself,” Tina Sue said after a long pause.

  “Why?”

  “She wasn’t depressed. She was one of the most happy, well-adjusted people I knew. A great mom. Loved being a wife.”

  “But you know, of course, that she had many lovers?”

  Tina Sue squirmed in her seat and brought a napkin to her mouth as she looked out the window.

  “Yes. I knew that. And maybe that’s one of the reasons she was so happy. I mean, so many of us might think about taking a lover and don’t have the guts. Some people just don’t believe in monogamy, and many of those people are happy and well adjusted in their lives,” she said, as if rehearsed.

  She is saying all the right things. Who has she been coached by?

  “Why would a woman with a dedicated husband, four beautiful children, a successful writing career, albeit secret, take on so many lovers? Why would she allow herself to be used by men who obviously did not care about her, while her children were asleep upstairs?”

  “It’s really about your viewpoint. She didn’t see it that way at all,” said Tina Sue, now twisting her napkin. Her pink nail polish was chipped and her nails were uneven.

  “That is not the societal standard. Would you not agree to that?”

  “I would. But there was nothing standard about my sister. For example, she went to the high-school prom with two dates. Oh, that gave folks something to talk about for years,” she said, and laughed. “I just came to accept and love her for who she was. And really, that’s the best we can do for ourselves and anybody else in our lives, isn’t it?”

  “What about her husband?”

  “What about him?” she said, her well-shaped eyebrows knitted.

  “What do you think about him?”

  “I always thought my sister could do better. But that wasn’t up to me, of course. But if you’re asking me if I think he killed her, I have to say, I really don’t know. Sometimes I think he’s capable of murder. Other times, I think, ‘Good God, could this man really have killed my sister?’”

  “How well do you know him?”

  “Well enough to know about his temper and that he hit my sister several times through the years.”

  So much for the “theory.” It just became a fact—as far as Annie was concerned.

  “How did you know?”

  “Once, she came to visit with a black eye. She liked to be submissive in sexual relationships, but she didn’t want it so rough that she’d be bruised, especially not on her face. So I asked her about it.”

  “And?”

  “Robert didn’t like her writing erotica. Actually, I don’t think it was because she was writing erotica. I think it hurt his pride that she made more money than he did,” she said, taking a bite of her doughnut.

  Annie sat back and drank her tea. “You know, Maggie Rae’s papers are full of evidence her husband hurt her frequently. He’s denied those allegations and maintains his innocence. But why else would he write apologetic cards about saying that he hurt her?”

  “I really can’t say,” Tina Sue said, and blinked.

  “I wondered why she’d put up with that. But sometimes the pattern of abuse reaches back into childhood,” Annie said, treading as lightly as she could.

  Tina Sue sat up straighter in her seat. “Oh, no, there was nothing like that in our house. As a child, Maggie Rae was so happy. She really invented her own world. She spent a lot of time alone. Didn’t seem to bother her at all. She filled notebooks with her thoughts, stories, and poems. Maggie Rae also loved to dance, was quite a good dancer,” Tina Sue said, her voice cracking as she looked out the window.

  Annie took a deep breath. “Forgive me for asking, but did she have any darker tendencies. Violent?”

  Tina Sue nodded and looked at her hands, which were twisting the napkin furiously now. This was the worst part about being a reporter. Here was Maggie Rae’s sister, obviously distraught, and it was Annie’s job to keep probing. She took a deep breath and watched her subject.

  “Yes, come to think of it. Maggie Rae had a dark side to her—she mutilated her Barbie dolls, for example, and had gotten into more fights at school than most children. My parents had a time with her.”

  “What did your parents think of her writing erotica?”

  “They never knew. Of course, our real father died when we were still kids. He was a good man, very devout. My mom remarried several years after, and then she died. We were raised, basically, by my stepfather and a stepmother, later.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Oh, yeah. Well, many people don’t, why would you?
He was a great stepfather and just stepped right into our family. And, well, he married Shelby after we were older. You know, teens.”

  “Did you and Maggie Rae get along okay?” Annie asked after a moment of letting that news sink in.

  A winsome smile came across Tina Sue’s face.

  “We did have our moments. She accused me of being the good sister, the devout one. She said she could never be as good as me, so why try? She couldn’t wait to get off the mountain, and I never understood it. She was surrounded by family who loved her, but their love didn’t comfort her. I’ve never understood her choice to live in Cumberland Creek, to marry an outsider. But I think that’s pretty typical of siblings. We were raised as good Christian girls and tried to get along.”

  Annie tried to ignore her last statement. Was that a slam because she was Jewish? Surely not. Still, she found the hair on the back of her neck standing at attention. She decided to change the subject.

  “What would you like people to remember about your sister?” Annie asked.

  “I really hate that this murder investigation has become about her sex life. She was much more than that. A good and kind person. A gifted writer. Really wonderful mother. Excellent cook. The best sister ever. But, you know, she’d really not mind the sex part. She was a free thinker and lived her life honestly. She just had this intense sexual drive. Funny, if she were a man, I’m not sure we’d even be discussing this.”

  Her last statement gave Annie pause. She thought about it all the way to pick up Ben and Sam. It was true that she’d probably not be asking very much about a man’s sex life, even if it had been revealed that he had several lovers. But then again, it wasn’t really Maggie Rae’s sex life that interested her—it was the impulse that lay beneath it.

  Chapter 36

  “Randy and I just had the best visit,” Paige told the Saturday-night croppers. “You just can’t believe how much I’ve missed him.”

  She was now working on a new album for him—a mother-and-son album, filled with photos of their activities through the years and mementos, such as ticket stubs, programs, ribbons from awards he’d gotten. She was also doing a good bit of journaling—writing alongside the pictures.

  “I love these journaling boxes. You just write on them, place them next to the picture, and voila!” Paige said.

  “That’s going to be an amazing gift for your son to have,” Sheila said.

  “How’s Earl taking it?” Vera asked.

  “He’s not thrilled,” she said. “But I’m working on him.”

  “Good,” Vera said, turning to Annie. “How’s the writing and the interviews coming?”

  Annie finished eating her chip and held her finger up. “You know, I’m glad you brought that up. I wanted to run this by you. I’m getting a lot of conflicting reports about Maggie Rae. It’s interesting.”

  She pulled out her recorder from her bag and set it on the table. “Here’s my interview with Mary Miller, one of Maggie Rae’s teachers.”

  Annie pushed the play button:

  Annie: I’m so sorry about Maggie Rae.

  Mary: Yes, me too.

  Annie: I understand she was an unusual child.

  Mary: Very creative. But other than that, I don’t know.

  Annie: What about her teenage years?

  Mary: What about them? I hope you’re not referring to all those wild rumors.

  Annie: Was that all they were?

  Mary: Of course. She was gifted with a vivid imagination and a bit of a big mouth. But she was a good Christian girl, from a good family.

  Annie: What exactly do you mean by that?

  Mary: What I mean is, she was raised right. Respectful of her elders. Went to church. Studied hard. Had a good and kind spirit. She was not the bad girl that people claim she was.

  Annie: How do you know?

  Mary: I watched her, you see. I was fascinated by her and her sister, how they looked alike but were so different. Tina Sue just never was as bright as Maggie Rae. Maggie Rae just shone like a bright light. Tina Sue was, and is, a good person, but never was bright—in any way. I always wondered how their parents felt about that. It was so obvious. And I always wondered how the sisters really felt about it. I’ll always remember this poem Maggie Rae wrote. It was called “No Questions, Just Faith.” And it was about the way her father raised her. She was not allowed to question him. Very old-school upbringing. In the poem, she was praying to find a way to make peace, within herself, with all of her questions. Her brain never seemed to rest. Her family didn’t quite know how to deal with it.

  Annie clicked the recorder off.

  “Maggie Rae wasn’t the bad girl?” Vera said. “I beg to differ.”

  “Well, of course, you would, dear,” Sheila said, and patted her hand.

  “I mean, there she was, sleeping with my husband and God knows who else,” Vera said.

  “Mary was talking about when she was a teenager,” Paige said. “Right?”

  “Yes. And keep in mind that Tina Sue said she slept around a lot as a teenager,” Annie said. “I’m not sure what to make of it.”

  “I’m a teacher and I can pretty much tell you who is a bad girl and who isn’t in our high school. But every once in a while, I’m surprised. I was shocked when Penny Taylor showed up for school this year pregnant. Maybe Mary didn’t know them as well as she thought.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Annie said. “But I thought that her other observations were interesting. Tina Sue led me to believe that there wasn’t much sibling rivalry. I mean, there were some little issues, like Maggie moving from Jenkins Hollow—”

  “Little?” Sheila interrupted. “That would not be a little issue to those folks. It was traitorous. For generations, if you lived up there, you married there, had your family there. You just didn’t consider leaving.”

  “So when she married Robert, who wasn’t from the area, and moved to Cumberland Creek, it probably upset a lot of people,” Annie said.

  “Indeed,” Vera said, setting down her photos. “But you know what upsets me? They still have not found who stabbed my mother. I mean, good God. What are we? A major city? I just can’t believe the police have found nothing. No fingerprints on the knife. Nothing.”

  “I can’t believe Bea doesn’t remember anything. Or that she didn’t feel anything. It’s so strange,” Paige said, gluing down a photo of her and her son in front of a tent at a campground.

  “She’s pretty sure that she didn’t see Robert that morning,” Vera said. “So if the killer is also the person who stabbed Mama, that leaves him out.”

  “Oh,” Annie said. “I also have Robert’s interview on this tape. Such as it was. Do you want to hear?”

  She hit the play button again:

  Annie: Nice to see you again, Robert.

  Robert: Same here, Annie. I don’t know what we have to talk about. I’ve told everybody everything I know.

  Annie: I’ve not heard you mention that you beat Maggie Rae.

  Robert: What?

  Jeff Myers: Don’t react to that. I think you should leave, Ms., uh, Cham-o-vitz, is it?

  Annie: I’m sorry, Mr. Myers. I thought your client would like to get on the record about his wife beatings.

  Jeff Myers: Alleged wife beatings, Ms. Chamovitz.

  Robert: Jeez!

  Annie: There’s nothing alleged about it.

  Jeff Myers: We’ll see about that.

  Annie: My mother always told me not to trust a man wearing a bow tie. Are you sure you want this attorney to represent you, Robert?

  She shut off the recorder.

  “That didn’t get far,” Vera said. “You were kind of mean, Annie.”

  “Mean? He beat his wife, for God’s sake. What’s wrong with you?” Sheila said.

  “Regardless,” Annie answered, “I have another interview scheduled with him on Monday. I hope it leads somewhere. I also have one scheduled with Bill and Detective Bryant.”

  DeeAnn lurched back in her chair, broug
ht her hand to her head, holding her forefinger and thumb in the shape of an L. “Losers,” she said, and laughed.

  Chapter 37

  The only time that Robert Dasher could meet with Annie was at night. He worked during the day. Now that Tina Sue was staying with his children a lot, he arranged to meet Annie at Patty’s Pie Palace, which sat at the edge of town, before the long trek to Lynchburg—the opposite side of town than the long trek to Jenkins Mountain.

  “Good Lord,” Mike said. “These people love their pie.”

  “I like it, too,” Annie said, and smiled as she reached for her keys. “I have no idea how long I’ll be. I’m glad the boys went down easy tonight. Maybe you can get some rest.”

  “Nah, I think I’m going to look at some Internet porn,” he said, and grinned.

  She smacked him playfully. “Good night,” she said.

  “G’night,” he said as she was walking through the door.

  Her stomach suddenly felt like a lead weight had landed in it. Leaving her home at eight-thirty at night, with both boys snug in their beds, and her husband alone with them, felt akin to abandoning them. A part of her would much rather be with them, in bed with Mike, or snuggled next to him on the couch watching a movie. But Robert Dasher—and the story—pulled at her.

  It was a short drive on the mostly dark roads. Did these folks not believe in streetlights? Suddenly, a brightly lit, pie-wedge-shaped diner shone in the not too far-off distance. It looked out of place on the long, winding road against the mountainside. Goodness. Annie wasn’t sure if it was tacky or kitschy. Maybe it was both.

  Patty’s Pie Palace was crowded. It was one of the few places around that was open until eleven at night, proving that there was a nightlife in the area. The rest of Cumberland Creek proper rolled up the sidewalks at seven. Annie was surprised to see so many people. She laughed at herself. There is a life after eight-thirty; I remember it.

  Robert was sitting in a corner booth. He lifted his head and nodded at her. He was alone—left his lawyer behind. Annie breathed a sigh of relief as she walked across the black-and-white tile floor, her sneakers squeaking against it. She paused momentarily to feast her eyes on the pies in the display case. Huge mounds of meringue, slightly browned, ignited her curiosity as to what was beneath them.