No Safe Secret

by Fern Michaels

  If she had had a weapon, she would have used it on him now, but since she didn’t, the only way out of this sick situation, albeit temporarily, was to give him what he wanted.

  In a clear voice, loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough for anyone listening to hear, she said, “I am stupid.”

  He released his death grip on her hair, only to place his hand around her neck. Sweat dribbled down his face, and Molly prayed he would keel over and die of a heart attack or an aneurysm. Something quick and immediate, with no hope of saving his life. Or even better, have a stroke that left him totally paralyzed for the rest of his life. At which point, she could put him away somewhere and leave him. She closed her eyes and prayed. Him or her. This could not continue. Her life was out of control. It had always been out of control, from the moment she laid eyes on Tanner all those years ago.

  Had she known the path marrying him would lead her down, she might have returned to Blossom City and taken her chances.

  Chapter Nine

  Christmas, Boston

  For the first time in eighteen years, Molly had her very own Christmas tree. After saving every penny she could, she and Sarah, now roommates, found an apartment they could afford, and they shared the expenses. Molly had been giddy with excitement ever since they’d moved out of Mrs. Garner’s.

  Sarah was only a year older and also came from a bad situation; at least that’s the way she referred to it, though she’d never told Molly too much about her past other than it had been a nightmare. Understanding the need to keep the past in the past, Molly hadn’t bothered to question Sarah, and it was because of this that they’d become so close in such a short time. And now they were sharing their very first Christmas together, just two young women on their own.

  Sarah worked for a professor at Harvard and made a decent salary. Like Molly, she, too, wanted a place of her own, and they’d often spoke of this during their time at Mrs. Garner’s. Together, they’d found this little hole-in-the-wall basement apartment that was conveniently located close to Lou’s Diner and the university. It wasn’t much, but to Molly it was home.

  When she learned of Molly’s move, Teresa gave the young women an old sofa. Molly was fairly handy with a needle and thread. On her day off, she’d taken the bus to Fabric World, where she’d purchased enough material to make a giant, soft, beige-colored slipcover for the sofa. Sarah purchased throw pillows in a rainbow of colors to brighten it up, and both had spent an entire night sanding and refinishing the hard-maple coffee table Teresa had thrown in with the sofa. Little by little, they were making the basement apartment their home.

  Molly took a few steps back to examine the small tree. She’d splurged on a string of lights that were supposed to look as though they were actual candles. When they were heated by the small bulb, the ginger-colored liquid inside bubbled and the tip flickered like a candle. She’d seen them before in stores, but she’d never had the money to purchase her own set of bubble lights. Not a big deal for most, but to her, this expenditure was extravagant in the extreme.

  Last night they’d spent the evening making Christmas ornaments out of flour and water. They used Christmas cookie cutters Molly borrowed from Lou’s. Tonight they would paint them, then hang them on the tree when the paint dried. Molly thought the tree the most perfect ever with just the bubble lights, but she didn’t tell Sarah this. She hadn’t told Sarah that her family never had a Christmas tree. No, she could never reveal her true identity, not to Sarah, Teresa, Lou, or anyone else. She was Molly Hall. Maddy Carmichael had disappeared the night of her high-school senior prom, and if Molly Hall could help it, she would never return.

  Molly heard Sarah’s heels click-clack as she made her way down the steep flight of steps. She opened the door for her, knowing that her hands would be full with the paint supplies she’d borrowed from one of the art students she was friendly with.

  “Let me help you,” Molly said, taking two huge brown bags from Sarah. “What’s in here?” Molly asked before she peered inside the bag. She saw small metal cans with a splash of color painted on each lid, paintbrushes, and several packets of notebook paper.

  Sarah put the third bag down, closing the door behind her. She brushed her dark-brown curls away from her face. “This is dinner. It smells divine. I am so stinking hungry, I could eat an entire ham.” She gave Molly a sheepish grin. Sarah Berkovitz was Jewish but in name only; she had explained this to Molly one night at Mrs. Garner’s. When Molly questioned her, she learned that Sarah knew hardly anything about the Jewish faith.

  They had this lack of knowledge of their religious backgrounds in common also, as Molly didn’t always understand many of the things Pastor Royer preached. She and Sarah were just young women down on their luck, like a million others. In the past, Molly always agreed with Sarah when she would say that, and she still did. The past was history, and neither of them cared to relive it, much less to reveal their secrets.

  “Then let’s eat, so we can paint these.” She waved her arm at the small kitchen table covered in homemade ornaments.

  “Okay, let me change.” Sarah disappeared into their shared bedroom while Molly removed the contents from the bag. She’d never smelled anything so delicious.

  An aluminum pan covered with foil and a Tupperware container contained a giant lasagna and a green salad. Inside a small brown bag were hot rolls, steaming with butter and garlic.

  Sarah returned while Molly fixed plates for them.

  “Who made this?” Molly asked. She knew what lasagna was, but she’d never had it before.

  “Professor Whitton’s wife, Ellen. He told me she thinks I need a little ‘meat on my bones,’ ” Sarah said, as they took their plates a few steps into the small living area.

  “She’s right; you could use a few pounds,” Molly said.

  Sarah scanned her. “Yeah, well, it wouldn’t hurt you to gain a few yourself.”

  They used the newly refinished coffee table as their dining surface since their kitchen table was covered with baked ornaments. They’d found twin beds for the small bedroom at a secondhand furniture store. The few articles of clothing they owned were stored in plastic bins at the foot of their beds. At the very bottom of Molly’s container, now stored in a large brown bag, was the dress that reminded her of the worst night of her life. Soon she had to find a way to destroy it. When the holidays were over, maybe.

  “After this meal, I’m sure to gain a pound or two,” Molly said between bites. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anything this tasty.” She thought back to the nights in the trailer when she’d calmed her hunger pangs by gulping water from the bathroom sink.

  Sarah just nodded, and they both finished their dinner in silence.

  “I’ll wash tonight,” Molly said, taking Sarah’s plate.

  “Okay. I’ll get the paints ready.”

  “This is so much fun,” Molly said as she washed their plates and cutlery.

  “You think washing dishes is fun?” Sarah asked. “There must’ve been something funky in that lasagna.”

  Molly laughed. “I don’t mind washing dishes, but that’s not what I was referring to. I was talking about painting and decorating the tree.”

  Sarah laughed. “It is fun. When I was a kid, I used to make ornaments with my grandma. I made the worst mess, but she never scolded me or hit me,” Sarah explained, then went on wistfully. “Those were the best days of my life. I miss Grandma so much sometimes, it hurts to even think about her.”

  Molly nodded, hoping she would continue with stories about her grandma. She craved stories of happy families, of how they interacted. She’d had no real experience with families and values. Lenore, her mother, was so mean and cruel. Now that she’d been away from Blossom Hill for six months, she’d started questioning so many things in her life or the lack thereof. Mostly, she wondered who she’d injured or possibly killed the night she’d raced out of town.

  When she thought about that night, she was horrified by what she had done, even tho
ugh she herself had been a victim. There was no one to call and ask what had happened, no one she could trust. Well, there was Brett Lynch, but she wouldn’t dare put him in a position that might possibly force him to lie for her. Because she knew that he would do whatever it took to protect her. He was probably out of his mind with worry. She’d been gone for six months, and as far as she knew, no one had come looking for her. She should have called Brett and told him what had happened. She didn’t have to admit to anything more than running away. Even if one or more of those sick SOBs had been maimed or killed, Brett wouldn’t know that it was she who was driving the car.

  But then she realized that if that group of perverts survived, of course Brett would know she was responsible. She was the only seventeen-year-old girl in Blossom City with a rusty-red Mustang. She needed to either rid herself of that car or have it painted. Lucky for her, their apartment included an enclosed parking space, a rarity in Boston.

  Drying the last dinner plate, she stacked it in the dish drainer. Sarah had placed several sheets of notebook paper under the ornaments. “I wondered why you had all that paper,” Molly said.

  “It was on sale for ten cents a pack. We don’t have any newspapers, so I figured this would work just as well.”

  Sarah, all five-foot-nothing, had changed into a pair of faded Levi’s and a burgundy-and-gray T-shirt with HARVARD in big block letters emblazoned across the front. With Sarah’s dark, curly hair and whiskey-colored eyes, Molly was surprised when she learned that Sarah didn’t have a boyfriend and wasn’t interested. For a while she wondered if Sarah was gay, as she never went out on dates, but one night a few weeks ago, they’d had one of their late-night chats.

  Sarah told her she wanted to be an attorney and start a career before she married and had a family of her own. Working as Professor Whitton’s assistant, she was able to take one course per semester for free. She had to purchase her own books, but she was okay with that. She saved like a miser and told Molly her goal was to pay her own way through Harvard. Molly believed her, too. She was bright and full of ambition. Molly wished she had more of her confidence.

  When they’d first met, Molly thought Sarah was extremely shy. And she was, until Molly got to know her. She was a great friend and roommate. She didn’t ask questions about Molly’s family or her past, and for this Molly was extremely grateful.

  “Where should we start?” Sarah asked.

  Their little dinette set was neatly arranged with cans of paint and brushes. Sarah had also thought to bring paper clips to insert through the little holes they’d poked through the dough before baking them so that they would be able to use the clips as hooks for hanging the ornaments on the tree.

  For the next hour, they painted Christmas trees, bells, stars, Santas, and little gingerbread men. When the ornaments were dry, they placed them on the tree.

  “I think this is the prettiest tree ever,” Sarah said, with an ear-to-ear grin plastered across her face.

  “It is, isn’t it?” Molly agreed.

  For a few minutes, both girls stared at the fragrant little tree all lit up, each lost in her own thoughts.

  “I love it and could sit here and stare all night, but I’m on the morning shift, so I need to get some sleep,” Molly said, wistfully.

  “Me too,” Sarah agreed. “I’ll put the paints away. You can have the bathroom first tonight.”

  Molly grinned. Though they were cramped, she loved having a place of her own and enjoyed Sarah’s friendship.

  Could it get any better than this?

  Four o’clock in the morning came early, but Molly was used to getting up at the crack of dawn. She’d been an early riser most of her life. In Blossom City, she’d had to wake up early to study and clean the messes that Marcus and his thug pals made after a night of partying. Just the thought of Marcus and his friends made her sick.

  She brushed her long blond hair, then tied it up in a ponytail. Her uniform was clean and ironed. She was grateful the basement apartment also had laundry facilities, where the residents could wash and dry their clothes for a dollar per load. She slipped into the work shoes she’d purchased at Sharp’s last month and quietly made her way out the door.

  The December air was bitter cold. She crammed her hands in her pockets and pulled her beanie down low to cover her ears. She found three others waiting at the bus stop, each bundled up in heavy winter coats, scarfs wrapped securely around their necks, leaving nothing exposed to the frigid air. She didn’t have a heavy coat, just the light jacket Sarah had given her. She would look for one in the thrift shops as soon as she could.

  At exactly 5:09 A.M., the Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority bus stopped with a gush of exhaust fumes in its wake, the winding gears and brakes grinding as it came to a full stop. Molly dropped her coins in the slot and sat directly behind the bus driver.

  It was a short ride to the diner, and in better weather, she preferred to walk, but it was too cold, and she couldn’t risk getting sick. Eight minutes later, she stepped off the bus and hurried inside the diner through the back entrance. She was greeted by the smell of fresh coffee and frying bacon.

  “Hey, girl, you look like you could use a cup of this,” Teresa said, and handed her a mug of coffee when she entered the break room. Since Molly had started working at Lou’s, Teresa had become a surrogate mother of sorts. Molly thought she was hysterically funny and enjoyed working with her.

  “Thanks. It’s colder than a well digger’s you know what out there,” Molly said, gratefully taking the mug of steaming coffee from her.

  “Listen, kid, that coat you’s got ain’t gonna get you through a Boston winter. Now don’t take offense, but I went through my closet last night and found this.” She pointed to a large white plastic garbage bag on the beat-up sofa the employees used when they needed a quick break.

  Teresa removed a full-length black wool coat out of the bag and handed it to her. “Think this should fit. C’mere, kid, let’s try it on.”

  Molly was so touched she felt tears in her eyes. “You didn’t have to do this,” she said, while Teresa held the coat out for her to try on.

  “Nope, you’re right, I didn’t. Frankly, I need the room in the closet. I still got stuff from my high-school days in there, and I ain’t gonna say how long ago that was.”

  Molly slid her arms into the warm wool coat and shivered, not because she was cold but because it felt so good against her skin. “Are you sure? This looks expensive.”

  “I’m sure, and it was expensive at one time, but who cares? It doesn’t fit me anymore, I’m getting too fat, so it’s all yours, kiddo.”

  Teresa was tough as nails, but she truly had a kind heart. The more time Molly spent with her, the more she cared for her. It was a strange feeling to have an adult looking out for her. If anything, it had always been the other way around with her and Lenore. Or, at least, it was never the case that her mother looked out for her. She kind of liked being looked after.

  Molly removed the coat and carefully hung it in the small employee coat closet. “Thank you so much, Teresa. You’ve already done too much for me. I really can’t thank you enough. I was going to see about getting a warmer coat, and now I don’t have to. And you’re not fat,” Molly added, smiling, a real, genuine, from-the-heart smile.

  “Glad to be of help, kid. Now, today’s the start of Christmas break, so prepare to run your legs off. Tips will be good, and remember, don’t let any of those smart-ass Harvard kids give you a rough time. I’ve heard a couple of them talking to you like dirt.”

  Molly nodded. She knew the incident Teresa was referring to, but it hadn’t really bothered her all that much. Just two girls her age making fun of her southern accent. She didn’t care, but again, it was nice to know that Teresa had her back. She’d dealt with far worse, but she definitely kept that thought to herself. She had been working very hard to get rid of her accent by observing the customers and thought she had made a lot of progress.

  She finished her cof
fee, rinsed her mug, and placed it in the dish drainer. She took a fresh pad from the stack on the desk and made sure she had at least two sharp pencils in her apron pocket. She removed her hair from its ponytail and braided it, then clipped the braid to the top of her head. Hair and food were a bad mix, according to the health department’s notice posted in the ladies’ room. When she had waitressed at Tony’s BBQ Pit, they’d had to wear hairnets, so she was familiar with the rules of restaurant cleanliness.

  “You okay, kid?” Teresa asked.

  Jolted back to the here and now, Molly shook her head. “I’m fine. I was just thinking about . . .”—she couldn’t tell her what she was really thinking about, so instead of the truth she said—“cutting my hair off.”

  “Don’t you dare! That’s the prettiest head of hair I’ve seen in years. And the color is real. Women would kill for your hair. Don’t you go cuttin’ if off, ya hear?”

  “I promise,” said Molly. “I’d best make sure my tables are set up. You need anything?”

  “Nope. I’ll unlock the door in a few minutes,” Teresa said.

  Six in the morning, come rain or shine, the doors opened for business. Teresa was the only one besides Lou who had keys to the place, at least as far as Molly knew. Once they unlocked the door, the customers practically bombarded the place. Molly liked working the breakfast and lunch shift. Time went by fast, and she really did enjoy the work. Some might think the job unrewarding, but she liked seeing the looks on her customers’ faces when she delivered a big plate of steaming hotcakes with butter melting down the side or sunny-side-up eggs with bacon still sizzling on the plate. The smell of fresh coffee permeated the entire restaurant.

  Molly now associated the smell of coffee with happiness. She’d never say this out loud, but it was true. For the first time since prom night, Molly had a bit of hope for her future.