The Evil That Was Done (Secrets of Redemption Book 3)

by Michele PW (Pariza Wacek)

  The peace. And acceptance.

  Of course, she would never get over the deaths of her brother and daughter, but standing before me was a woman who had wrapped herself in rage so she wouldn’t shatter into a million pieces. She had finally found the courage to let the bonds of that rage fall away, to let herself shatter, and put the pieces back together. Those pieces may not fit together completely right anymore, but they were back together.

  And, finally, finally, the first inklings of peace would not only be accepted, but welcomed.

  “I accept your apology,” I said. “And while I want to thank you for apologizing, I also want to say it’s not necessary. I don’t blame you for being angry. At either of us.”

  Louise smiled a sad smile. “That’s nice of you to say, but no. I owe you a lot more than an apology. I am a lot more to blame for everything that happened than either you or Charlie.”

  I cocked my head. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s ... well, it’s all water under the bridge at this point. Thank you for your grace. I’ll leave you to your breakfast.” With that, she turned and started down the driveway.

  I stood there, hanging on to the open door watching her go, feeling like something was unfinished.

  “Well, that was a nice gesture,” Mia said. She had moved next to me, and we were both watching Louise as she got into her car and drove away.

  “What do you think she meant by her being ‘a lot more to blame’?”

  Mia shrugged. “Who knows? As she said, it’s water under the bridge now. But maybe she did something or said something back then that she thinks put Jesse in danger. Or maybe she’s talking about how her overprotectiveness with Jessica is what caused Jessica to get so drunk and stubborn the night of the party. Or maybe both.” She met my eyes and half-smiled. “We all have to take responsibility for our choices in life. And, for over thirty years, Louise blamed you and your family for everything that went wrong in hers. It’s probably time she took a hard look at how she contributed to the events that happened.”

  “I suppose,” I said, but I still wished I could have asked her more questions. Maybe she could have shared some insight about Charlie, something that would help me resolve the two Charlies dancing in my head. The Charlie who had raised me and believed in me and loved me as a child and the Charlie who had purposefully poisoned her lover and buried him in the basement.

  Yes, she felt like she had no choice. But still, it troubled me. And maybe it always would.

  I moved to close the door when I saw a figure hurrying toward us. “Oh, look. It’s Daphne.” I waved.

  She didn’t wave back, seemingly focused on getting to us as quickly as possible. I frowned, glancing at Mia, whose face mirrored my expression. “Does she not see us?”

  “I don’t see how,” Mia said.

  We silently watched Daphne. She didn’t look happy. Oh God, was there something in this mess that had upset Daphne too? Was she angry? I’d have preferred Louise’s anger over Daphne’s.

  “I need you and Mia to come with me,” Daphne called out when she reached the end of our driveway. She was out of breath, her dark-red hair uncombed and unwashed, flying around in clumps around her paler-than-normal face.

  “Did something happen? Is your mom okay?” I asked, alarmed at her frantic appearance.

  She shook her head wildly, causing her hair to whip around. “No, it’s not that, I just ... I just need you to come with me. Mia, do you have to work?”

  “No, but what’s going on?”

  “Just ... come with me. Now. Before I lose my nerve.”

  I glanced at Mia. She looked as bewildered as I was.

  “Let me grab my keys,” I said.

  “And I need to grab my phone,” Mia said.

  Keys and phone in hand, I locked up the house and we followed Daphne. She didn’t say a word the entire walk, only shaking her head when we tried to ask her what was going on.

  I was getting a bad feeling.

  Daphne’s step quickened when her house came into view. She marched ahead of us onto the porch, unlocked the door, and went in, leaving the door swinging open behind her.

  Mia and I looked at each other.

  “When was the last time you were at her house?” I whispered.

  “It’s been years,” Mia whispered back. “Maybe even since high school.”

  What could have possibly caused her to bring us there today?

  Cautiously, I stepped inside the open door and into the foyer. Mia closed the door behind us.

  We were standing in a very clean, very comfortable-looking room that smelled like Daphne—of lavender and lemon. The furniture was old, but well maintained. The drapes were up, allowing the bright sunlight to fill the room. Off to one side was a short hallway that appeared to lead to the kitchen, which also looked clean and bright.

  Daphne paced around the scuffed coffee table, one hand twisting a strand of her hair. A laptop computer was sitting in the middle of it, next to a notepad, pen, and cup of coffee. I studied the room, feeling like something was missing but unable to put my finger on what it was.

  Mia cleared her throat next to me. “Ah, is your mom still asleep?”

  That was when it hit me. The room was too clean, too free of clutter. Where were all the pill containers and other medical paraphernalia that went hand-in-hand with caring for a sick parent?

  “I have no idea,” Daphne said.

  Mia and I looked at each other again. “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Daphne didn’t answer for a moment, as she continued her pacing.

  “Daphne,” Mia said tentatively. “Are you okay?”

  “My mother,” Daphne began, but paused to take another breath. “My mother is in a psychiatric facility.”

  “She is?” Mia’s eyes went wide. “When did that happen?”

  “Oh, I would say, about 13 years ago.”

  “Wait. Did you say 13 years ago?” I asked.

  “Daphne, can you stop pacing? You’re making me dizzy.” Mia said.

  “My mother,” Daphne said, without slowing her movements, “had a breakdown after Jessica disappeared.”

  “She did?” Mia was surprised. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  Daphne slammed to a stop, facing Mia. “Because you were so consumed over what happened to Jessica, and how she had left without telling you, I couldn’t.”

  “What are you trying to say? That this is my fault or something?”

  Daphne reached up to press the heels of her palms against her eyes. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. Oh, God, this is harder than I thought.”

  I went to Daphne and gently took her arm. “Let’s sit. Why don’t you start with why you’re telling us now?”

  Daphne allowed me to lead her to an overstuffed blue coach and sat down. Mia settled herself in the more threadbare-looking armchair, her lips pressed together in a thin line.

  “My mother was Jesse’s secret girlfriend,” Daphne said.

  I could hardly believe what I had just heard.

  “So it’s true,” I said. “He did have a secret girlfriend after all.”

  Daphne nodded unhappily.

  “But, that means,” Mia said slowly, squishing her face up as if she was working out a particularly tricky math problem, “she was having an affair. Your mother was married to your father then, right?”

  “They were in love,” Daphne said, her voice low and scratchy. “She was going to leave my father that night. Run away with Jesse. But, something happened. I’m not sure what, but for some reason, she couldn’t meet him that night. So, she stayed with my father, but it was supposed to be temporary. She was waiting for Jesse to call her, to come for her.

  “But he never did.”

  There was a long silence. I reached out to touch Daphne’s arm. “So she stayed. With your f
ather.”

  “Initially,” Daphne said. She pressed her palms against her eyes again. “She was pregnant. With me. And no, she never told me Jesse was my father. I actually don’t think she knows for sure which one is my father, but,” she let out a harsh bark of laughter, “looking at me, I doubt it’s Jesse. Anyway, there she was, pregnant … without a clue as to where Jesse was, so I think she decided to make the best of a bad situation and stay with my father. I think that’s what made my father sick. He died from a broken heart. I don’t know if she told him about the affair, but I think he figured it out, and that’s what killed him.

  “What happened broke her. She never got over Jesse, but it wasn’t just because she loved him. I think ... well, she was always ... sensitive, I guess. She just knew things. You know? And I think she knew that something had happened to Jesse that night.

  “So, the night Jessica disappeared, that destroyed her.”

  I glanced at Mia, but her face was cold and still. “I don’t understand,” I said, trying to keep my attention on both of them at the same time. “Why would Jessica disappearing do that to her? Was your mom especially close with Jessica?”

  Daphne shook her head. “No. It was part of that ... psychic connection. She knew something darker had happened that night. Something that was somehow linked to Jesse. And, she just ... snapped.”

  Daphne lowered her hands and looked at both of us. Her eyes were puffy and smudged, like she had been crying. “I have that gift, too, you know,” she said quietly. “I can ... sense things, as well. See ghosts. Charlie helped me a lot, Becca. She helped me ... control it, I guess. My mother was no help.

  “Anyway, that night my mother just had a complete psychotic break. When I got home from the hospital, I found her curled up in a fetal position, covered in blood, rocking. She ...” Daphne swallowed. “She had cut herself and had used her blood to write on the walls.”

  A cold draft seemed to drift down my spine. I tried to lick my lips, but my mouth was so dry, I couldn’t. “What did she write?”

  “The evil that was done,” Daphne said. “Over and over and over.”

  The sun went behind a cloud, plunging the room into darkness. I tried not to glance around, tried not to see a wild-looking woman huddled in the corner, blood trickling from her fingers while all around her, words dripped down the white walls.

  “What did you do?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. Mia still hadn’t moved, her face still frozen in that cold expression. What was going on with her?

  Daphne lifted her hands helplessly. “What could I do? I was sixteen years old. One of my best friends had just disappeared. My father was dead, and my mother was unresponsive. I didn’t want to be taken away, forced into the system. So, I pretended.”

  “Pretended?” I asked.

  Daphne nodded. “I pretended she was sick. In my defense, at first, I thought she was sick, and hoped she would snap out of it. I bandaged her up and cleaned the house. I kept waiting for her to wake up, to be herself again, but she never did. So, I started feeding her, giving her water, putting … putting a diaper on her. I would ... “ Daphne paused to take a long, shuddering breath before continuing, “I would tie her to the bed when I left for school. Even though she seemed to remain unresponsive, I didn’t want her to wake up when I was gone and wander off or hurt herself again. But, she never did.”

  “Oh Daphne,” I said, my heart breaking, imagining her trying to care for her mother and take care of the house at sixteen years of age.

  “How did you live?” Mia asked, her voice flat, her face like stone.

  Daphne’s eyes darted toward Mia before swiping roughly at her face. “It wasn’t easy. But the house was paid for and we still had money left over from my father’s life insurance. I was able to forge my mother’s signature, so I could still pay bills and buy groceries. Charlie helped me as well.”

  “You told my aunt?” I asked.

  “I only told her because I hoped her teas might cure my mother,” Daphne said defensively, eyeing Mia, who, if anything, grew even more cold and still. “Unfortunately, none of them brought her out of her comatose state, but she did respond to me feeding her and giving her water. Once I turned eighteen, Charlie helped me find a hospital to commit my mother. I told everyone else she was visiting her cousin, who was sick.”

  “And, that’s when you went to college,” Mia said quietly, almost to herself.

  “I went to school to be a healer,” Daphne said. “I really loved working with your aunt, and that’s what I wanted to do. But it didn’t take long for me to realize it wasn’t going to work out. It was expensive taking care of my mother in that hospital; plus, I had school and my own living expenses to worry about. I wasn’t sure if I would make enough to pay for everything. I thought about selling the house, but that didn’t feel right.

  “So, then a friend introduced me to computer security. Hacking. I discovered, I had a knack for it even without the classes, and just by working a few hours every night, I was able to make enough to pay for my schooling and the hospital bills.”

  “But you came back,” Mia said, her voice suddenly cracking. “You came back from school and told everyone you were taking care of your sick mother. You told ME you were taking care of your sick mother.”

  “I know,” Daphne said. “I’m not proud of it. It was becoming too much, school and work, and I needed a break. I realized if I moved back to the house, I wouldn’t have to worry about rent or a mortgage. I could take a year or two off school, and just work and save enough money to not have to work when I returned to school. The only problem was in justifying my move back. I never told anyone my mother was in a psychiatric hospital. How would it look if I came back alone? How would I explain what I had done?

  “But, if she was sick and I was taking care of her, then no one would question me. I could just pretend again. And, since I was working at home anyway, no one would be the wiser.”

  “All of these years,” Mia said, her voice getting more and more agitated as the reality of what Daphne had done continued to sink in. “All of these years, you pretended? You pretended to be taking care of her when in reality, you were just living here alone?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “I thought we were friends. Best friends. How could you not tell me?”

  “How could I tell you?” Daphne stood up again and resumed her pacing. “How could I finally come clean after what I did? How could I come clean to anyone? So, instead, I lived in this house. I did work I was good at and had a knack for, but didn’t love. My real joy, my real passion, I couldn’t do … how could I possibly balance helping people with their healing with keeping my secret? So, instead, I just grew more and more unhappy.”

  “But your stories,” I said. “You had so many stories about your mother.”

  Daphne shrugged. “I made them up.”

  “Wow,” Mia said. “Just … wow.”

  “Why did you decide to tell us now, Daphne?” I quickly interrupted. Mia looked like she was about to explode, and I was hoping I could head off whatever was brewing between them.

  Daphne’s pacing slowed. “The tape,” she said simply. “What happened to Jesse. What happened to Jessica. There was a connection. Don’t you see? There was a reason behind my mother’s breakdown. But, more than that, I kept thinking about Louise. About how bitter she was because she didn’t know the truth. And you,” she gestured at me. “And how you were trying to make decisions about your life … about following your dreams or not. And I thought, haven’t I lost enough years? Living in this house, doing work I resent and dread, and living a lie? Isn’t it finally time to come clean? What else am I going to sacrifice because of what Jonathan did? What his family did? A relationship? My health? My happiness? A chance to do what I love?

  “No, I’m done living a lie. That’s why I wanted you both here. I wanted to tell you both how sorry I was.�
��

  I stood up quickly and went over to give her a hug. “You have nothing to apologize to me for,” I said, squeezing her. “I wasn’t even here most of that time.”

  Daphne hugged me back. “Thanks, Becca.” She let go of me and we both turned to Mia.

  She gazed at us both, her face shuttered and unreadable. “I guess ... I have to sit with this,” she finally said. “I just … how could you lie to me? Not just once but again and again? You are one of my best friends. How can I trust you again?”

  “The same way I was able to trust you again,” Daphne said simply. “You were so distraught for so long over Jessica. I was an obvious second choice to you for years. At times, I wondered if we ever were friends or if it was just, I don’t know, habit. But, eventually, everything changed.”

  “So, it’s my fault you didn’t tell me?”

  “No, of course not,” Daphne rushed in quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. But think about it from my perspective. I couldn’t tell you right away. You were completely caught up in the investigation. Then, later when things calmed down, I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t know how to explain why I didn’t say anything right away. And, the longer it went on, well …” she held up her hands and let them drop helplessly.

  Mia didn’t immediately answer, just sat in a long, stony silence. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath. “I need to sit with this,” she said at last. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I was so lost in my own grief, I didn’t treat you the way I should have. But, I was a kid, myself. I had just lost my best friend.”

  “I know,” Daphne said quietly. “I was a kid, too. And I didn’t handle it right. And I’m sorry. But I’m trying to change that now.”

  “I need some time,” Mia said again, getting up from the chair and heading for the door.

  “Of course,” Daphne said, but I could see she the pain beneath her words.

  I gave Daphne a final hug. “She’ll come around,” I whispered in her ear. “Just give her time. She forgave me, and she’ll forgive you.”

  Daphne smiled at me, but I could see the worry in her eyes.