Best Kept Secrets

by Tracey S. Phillips

  Caryn didn’t answer. Her backpack was bulging full of new boxes of crayons, markers, and notebooks, and there hadn’t been room for the tissues. None of the other kids had their first-day-of-school stuff with them. Embarrassed, she leaned on the lumpy backpack and stared straight ahead.

  “Are you sick?” This time Ellen had to shout over the noise.

  “It’s my first day.”

  Ellen held a lunch box with Cinderella in her blue gown on it. “You’ll like our school, Karen.”

  She lurched with the motion of the bus. “No. My name’s Caryn. Like car-in.” She hated having to explain it. It was a terrible name. Her face felt hot. If Mom had been home, she would have driven Caryn to school. She’d always driven her to school before.

  Ellen got up on one knee and turned toward the back of the bus. “Hey Deedee, her name’s Car-In. Like… cars, you know?”

  “That’s a stupid name.”

  Caryn looked back at Deedee laughing. She was sitting in the center of the back seat. Center stage. Caryn wanted to go back there and pull her hair, but she was surrounded by all her friends. And suddenly, she felt silly in her flowery dress. The embarrassment turned to anger.

  Someone else called out, “Car -wash.” He started a flurry of name calling.

  “How about Car-parts.”

  “Car-tire.”

  “Wait!” Deedee shouted above the others, “Car-seat.”

  Everyone laughed. Caryn shrank back, mortified, trying to make herself as small as possible. She wanted to be invisible. But the bulky supplies in her backpack made it impossible to shrink. Even though she dropped the giant Kleenex box on the floor and kicked it away, Caryn couldn’t make herself disappear. The sound of their laughter made her mad.

  When the bus stopped in front of the school, kids piled into the aisle. They laughed and poked at her as they went by. Caryn didn’t get up.

  Next to her, Ellen went as far as she was able to, blocked in by Caryn. “Come on. Get out.”

  Caryn stared at the dirty green leather of the seat in front of her. Someone had written “Jason Whitaker” on it with a heart next to it.

  “Come on,” Ellen repeated. “Let me out.”

  After the last kid had stepped down off the bus, Caryn asked, “Why’d you have to do that?”

  “Do what? Let me out!”

  She sat like a lump, refusing to move.

  The bus driver called to them, “Come on girls. Let’s go.”

  “She won’t let me out.” Ellen started to push.

  The bus driver, an angular woman, stood up. “Don’t make me come back there,” she said.

  Still Caryn wouldn’t budge.

  Ellen pushed harder. She was a little bigger than Caryn, taller and stronger. But when Caryn stood up, she locked her arm straight and pressed her hand onto Ellen’s face. Ellen backed into the window and whimpered. Drawing blood, Caryn dug fingernails into the girl’s soft cheeks.

  * * *

  Still wearing her bulky winter coat, Caryn sat on the wooden bench in the principal’s office. She watched as the bus driver, teachers, school nurse, and Principal Thompson fawned over Ellen. The girl cried when they wiped the blood from her cheek and bandaged her. Every time she looked at Caryn, she burst into tears again. The principal called Ellen’s mother. When the woman arrived, she hugged her daughter and held her for the longest time. They looked sideways at Caryn and pinched their lips closed. It made Caryn hate Ellen even more.

  After Ellen and her mother had gone home and the flurry of activity died down, Principal Thompson called Caryn’s house. Teachers returned to their classrooms. The secretary took her seat at her desk, and the nurse and principal went to their offices.

  “Is my mom coming?” Caryn asked the secretary. She knew she wasn’t. But she didn’t want to say it out loud.

  “We left her a message.”

  After an hour had passed, the secretary said, “Why don’t you take your coat off, honey?”

  She didn’t want to. Caryn was hot but kept her backpack on, a life preserver.

  At noon, the secretary brought her a tray with a school lunch on it. There were tater-tots, green beans, and slimy-looking meat. She held it out to Caryn, who didn’t take it.

  “Did you call her again?”

  “Yes, Caryn. We’ve called your house a few times.” She jiggled the tray in front of Caryn, as if trying to entice her.

  “My dad is at work. Did you call him?”

  “We tried. He told us … Well, he can’t pick you up right away.” The secretary’s face turned pink.

  Caryn imagined that her dad had said more words than that. He yelled and screamed about everything. “Why can’t I go to class?”

  “Principal Thompson has issued you a suspension. Do you know what that means?”

  “I can’t go to class?”

  “You can’t come to school for three days. Have some lunch. Are you sure you don’t want to take your coat off?” When Caryn still didn’t take the lunch tray, the secretary set it on the bench beside her. “You do know that what you did was bad, don’t you?” She placed her hands on her hips.

  Caryn had been thinking. She had known it would come to this and had already decided how she needed to react. A third-grader, she was considered very bright. And whether her parents told her or not, she knew it. She was able to figure out what was expected from her. She knew that kids hated it when their mothers left them. She knew they cried.

  So Caryn began to cry. It started as a trickle. “Don’t tell my dad I got suspended. He’ll be so mad.” Now she let it out, and decided that crying felt really good. She began to moan out loud, “Please don’t tell my dad. Please.”

  The principal came out of his office. “What’s going on out here?”

  The secretary whispered something to him, but Caryn couldn’t hear what over the sound of her own howling. Kids stopped in the hall to see what was going on in the office. The secretary went to her phone again. Caryn wailed even louder.

  Dad and Ekhard arrived later that afternoon, after the other kids had gone home. While Theo talked to the principal, Ekhard sat beside Caryn on the hard wooden bench.

  “Where’s Mom?” she asked him.

  Ekhard looked at his feet. “You know she couldn’t come.”

  “Why not?” Even though she knew Mom would probably give her a sore bottom for what she had done, Mom was the only one she wanted.

  “She’s gone, Ceecee. What happened today?” Ekhard asked.

  “I got mad.” She wiped her face where tears had left a sticky film.

  “Did you hurt someone?” He helped Caryn out of her backpack.

  Her shoulder blade was sore where the box of crayons had been poking her all day. She made a sour face.

  “Caryn, are you okay?” Ekhard asked.

  She bit her lip and nodded yes. She wasn’t hurt. Nor was she sorry for scratching Ellen’s face, or even sad about having to stay in the principal’s office all day. She wanted to go home. And she wanted her mother.

  They could hear Theo talking with the principal, explaining the situation at home.

  On an instinctual level, Caryn knew her mom had run away. She knew it when their dad said she wasn’t coming back. Anna Clare had left them alone with their awful father. And Caryn hated her for it.

  Ekhard set her backpack down on the floor. Then he did something he had never done before. He embraced his sister. He put an arm around her and drew her close to him. She dropped her blond head on his chest and stayed that way until it was time to go.

  CHAPTER 35

  MORGAN

  With the television volume muted, Morgan watched the IU football team kicking Michigan’s proverbial ass. The quarterback sailed the ball downfield and directed it into the arms of a teammate. In slow motion they danced. Halloween commercials slotted between plays were frequent and distracting.

  Unable to concentrate on the game, Morgan curled up on the couch with her laptop resting on her thighs. Her fingers po
ised over the keys as she played and replayed the meeting with Caryn in the coffee shop. Tapping, they restlessly waited a command. Her phone rang, interrupting the process. She slid the laptop to the couch and dug into the front pocket of her hoodie. She wanted it to be Rob. She looked at caller ID and answered, “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hi, dear. Are you watching the game?” Morgan could hear their TV blaring in the background.

  “Oh …” Morgan looked at her screen as the Michigan quarterback got sacked. Through the phone, she heard her dad and Jeremy cheering.

  “Do you have plans with your friends today?” her mother asked.

  “Donnie invited me for dinner with his family, but I’m not going. Besides, it’s cold and rainy. It’s a pajama day.”

  “Well, your aunt Lucy is coming over in about an hour. We’re working on the Thanksgiving menu. You’re coming for Thanksgiving, aren’t you?”

  “I’m planning on it,” Morgan said.

  “Oh good. Then you can help too.” As her mother ran off the scheduled agenda for the day, Morgan’s mind wandered to holiday traditions. “When my mother cooked the turkey …” Listening to her mom’s prattle comforted her.

  She felt bad about arguing with Jeremy in front of Dierdre. She hoped to reconcile when she went to visit for Thanksgiving.

  Jeremy worried about her, that’s why he didn’t understand. But this time he didn’t need to. Morgan knew what she was doing. She was trained for this. Her degree in criminology would not go to waste. Jeremy could be thankful for that. Eventually.

  She heard him laugh in the background. Happy memories of growing up with such a supportive brother made Morgan smile. It also made her wonder what holiday gatherings had been like in Caryn’s house when she was younger. Did her mom cook? What about after she left them? Did their alcoholic father cook? Who took care of the household chores?

  “In a few minutes it will be halftime. Do you want to talk to your dad?” Morgan’s mom asked.

  If Morgan could find Anna Clare Klein, what would she say about her children? About the past? Thinking out loud, Morgan asked, “Mom, if you had to leave Dad, where would you go?”

  “What? What kind of question is that?”

  “I’m working on a case, and the mother left her children to escape an alcoholic husband. I suspect he beat her. If it was you, where would you go?”

  “Well, not far. I’d want to keep an eye on my kids, even if I couldn’t have physical contact with you anymore. Why didn’t she take her children with her?”

  “Good question.”

  With the phone pressed between her shoulder and ear, Morgan dragged her computer closer to search databases.

  “I can’t imagine any mother leaving her children.”

  “Unfortunately, it happens all the time, Mom,” Morgan said. “Let me call you back, okay? I’m working.”

  “On Sunday?”

  “Yeah. Tell Dad and Jeremy I said hi, okay?”

  After hanging up, Morgan’s fingers flew over the keyboard. She searched death records first, then titles to land. When nothing appeared, she typed in hospital and emergency room admittances. The woman didn’t show up in any hospital or police records in Marion County.

  The game was wrapping up before she found an emergency room record in 2015 at the Ball Memorial Hospital in Muncie, Indiana. Anna Clare Klein was still using her married name.

  * * *

  Morgan hopped into a new, rented Toyota. After she’d gotten a speeding ticket in the Mazda, she’d exchanged it for a safer, more familiar vehicle. She headed to Muncie, where Anna Clare was living and dying in a hospice-sponsored facility. Through tracing the admittance records at Ball Memorial Hospital, Morgan had been able to follow up with nurses in the pulmonary wing. Condemned by lung cancer, Anna Clare did not have much longer to live. The cancer had moved in and taken residence. The nurses let Morgan know that the last time Anna Clare Klein had come to the hospital, she had been released to hospice care.

  On arriving at the hospice facility, Morgan had to show her badge to get inside, something she hated about her work. She didn’t enjoy harassing sick, weakened people. Anna Clare had told them she didn’t want any visitors. When Morgan explained that she was investigating a murder, they let her in.

  Frail and small, Anna Clare slouched in her bed with blankets bundled around her. A bony shoulder peeped out from under the covers. Alert, bright-blue eyes targeted Morgan as she entered.

  Morgan sat near the bed in a chair she had brought in from the hallway. She explained who she was, and Anna didn’t seem to mind. Nor did she seem surprised that Morgan had questions about her children.

  “I never wanted to leave them, you know.” Anna cleared her throat again and coughed. Her raspy voice didn’t have much wind behind it. “Lung cancer has spread. Surgery, removing both lower lobes, has only made me weaker. The cancer returned last year in the upper half of my lungs.”

  “I can come back later,” Morgan said with a twinge of regret. The truth was that if Anna didn’t talk now, Morgan might never have another chance. And she hoped that Anna knew where her son was.

  “It’s fine. I don’t mind. The way it looks, I might not be here if you came back another day.” When Anna smiled, it began another coughing spasm. When the worst of it subsided, she continued. “Funny how things change, isn’t it? Once, all my secrets seemed so important. None of it matters anymore.” The loud hum of her oxygen condenser filled the quiet spaces. “Back then I’d have made a huge stink about answering your questions. I wouldn’t have told you a thing.” She closed her eyes.

  Morgan knew something about secrets. She wouldn’t share hers no matter who asked.

  “I want you to know, I had to be free of Theo. The decision to leave had nothing to do with Ekhard and Ceecee,” Anna said. “I wanted to kill their father. He was a mean man.”

  “Did he beat you?”

  “Oh yes.” Anna closed her eyes.

  Perhaps she had dozed off for a moment. Morgan couldn’t tell. She looked down at her lap. Patience, she thought.

  Ten minutes later, Anna continued, drowsily and slowly. “He beat me all right. He beat the kids too.”

  Morgan’s lips met in a frown.

  “No harm in telling you now, I suppose.” Anna nodded, continuing. “I bought a gun. A big Sig Sauer semiautomatic. A forty-five. The bullets were as big as my little finger. I suppose you’d know that. I wanted to, but I never shot him. I could hardly handle the gun for its size. When I learned about his death years later, I was happy that drinking took him. But, by then, I couldn’t go back to the kids. They were so grown up by then. They weren’t mine anymore.”

  “Ekhard and Caryn were in high school.”

  “I know what they went through. I was Eks’s age when my ma died.” Anna coughed again. This time she sat up.

  Morgan handed her a water bottle and a box of tissues. The spasm stole Anna’s energy. When it was over, she slept.

  So, Morgan waited, watching her from the hallway. One nurse stood nearby, and Morgan asked her if Anna had had any other visitors.

  The nurse responded by saying, “I haven’t seen a soul come by for her. No surprise. She’s got no gratitude, no remorse, and is certainly lacking in the kindness department. Pretty sad if you ask me.” She took a home-baked cookie from a tray near the coffeepot and shoved half of it into her mouth.

  The oxygen pump worked, breathing life into the dying woman, cycling and releasing. When Anna woke, she continued talking as if she hadn’t been asleep for over an hour. “The gun was too big for me to handle. I took it to a shooting range, got some lessons on how to use it. I couldn’t even pull back the shuttle, let alone shoot and hold the thing steady.”

  “You wanted to kill him. Things were that bad for you,” Morgan said with sympathy.

  “Let me finish.” With much effort, Anna wrestled her arm out from under the covers. She placed her cold, boney hand on top of Morgan’s. “Your hand is so warm.”

  Morgan leaned
forward, resting her notebook on the side of the bed.

  Anna continued with renewed energy. “I became afraid. Afraid that he’d find the gun. Afraid that he’d wrestle it out of my hands. I thought, Theo will shoot me and there will be no one to take care of Eks and Ceecee.”

  “So you left him.”

  “It was my only choice. Then he cut me off from all our finances. He took my name off our checking and savings accounts. He canceled the credit cards. All of them.”

  “You had to make a new start,” Morgan said.

  “I did. It was hard, but I didn’t call those kids after I left. I just couldn’t recover anything after leaving or after Theo died.” Her solemn expression was sorrowful. “He wasn’t the only mean one, though.”

  “How so?”

  “Theo wasn’t alone. I was just as wicked as he was. Probably why we married in the first place. I think back on it now and wonder if I must be going to Hell.”

  Morgan cocked her head and gently asked, “Did you beat them too?”

  “Aw, you know, sometimes they deserved it. Kids are sometimes stupid that way.” Anna looked away. “And sometimes I just couldn’t help it.” She pushed herself up on the pillows.

  Morgan stood up, ready to help if necessary. “Caryn was only fifteen when Theo died. From all accounts, Ekhard dropped out of college to take care of her. They sold the house and moved to an apartment on the west side.”

  “I heard. Ekhard was a good kid. And Caryn? I never worried about that girl. She could hold her own.” Anna fussed with her pillows.

  “What can I do to make you more comfortable?”

  “Nothin’. If I get too comfortable, I’ll fall asleep again.” Anna struggled with the pillows before settling into the bed.

  Morgan sat back down in the hard, plastic chair.

  “Ekhard came to visit me after Ceecee graduated from high school.” Anna closed her eyes. Her eyelids fluttered as if she were watching an internal movie of memories. “He had changed his name by then, and he’d called me out of the blue.”

  “He changed his name? To what?” This news gave Morgan renewed hope of finding him. She opened her little notebook and clicked her pen.