Secret Lives (3 page)

“These came for you today.” Kyle carried a
vase filled with two dozen red roses into the living room and set
them next to the cake.

Eden plucked the card from its holder,
although she was certain who had sent them. I miss you already,
Michael had written.

“Michael Carey?” Lou asked.

“Yes.” Obviously Kyle and Lou were up on the
latest Hollywood gossip. Eden set the card on the table and picked
up her plate again.

“He's very handsome,” Lou said.

“Yes, he is.”

“Has quite a reputation, though,” Kyle said.
“You don't have to rush into anything.”

Lou laughed. “Ky, she's a grown-up.”

“Okay, okay.” Kyle smiled. “Old habits die
hard.”

“Michael's cleaned up his act, Kyle. He's
being very solicitous because he hopes to play Matthew Riley in the
movie. But we're really just friends, so you don't need to
worry.”

“Two dozen roses to a friend?” Kyle asked as
he ducked back into the kitchen.

Eden sighed and looked at her aunt. “How come
I feel like I'm eighteen again?”

“You never stop worrying, Eden. So how's
Cassie? We can't wait to see her.”

“She's just fine.”

“I bet you'll miss her this month.”

Eden shrugged. “She'll have a great time with
Wayne and Pam and Pam's kids.” She felt the tears threaten and took
a long swallow of iced tea to stop them. Why do you have to go,
Mommy?

“We saw Heart of Winter three times, Eden.”
Kyle stood in the doorway of the kitchen, sipping his iced tea.
“We're real proud of you, honey.”

Kyle was, how old now? Sixty-four? His neatly
trimmed white and gray beard lent him dignity, but the laugh lines
carved into the skin around his clear blue eyes were evidence of
his good humor. He was wearing jeans and a blue plaid shirt, and he
was lean without being gaunt. When he spoke, the remnants of his
Shenandoah Valley accent still softened his words, although he'd
spent most of his adult life far from Lynch Hollow. He was still a
handsome man, quite remarkably so for his age. She'd noticed that
for the first time just a few years ago. He'd been in L.A. at an
archaeology conference and wanted to take her out to dinner.
Spending an evening alone with Kyle had been unthinkable, so Eden
asked Nina to join them. At the restaurant Eden had barely gotten
seated before Nina dragged her into the ladies' room.

“Your uncle's gorgeous,” she'd said. “Is he
married?”

Eden had stared at her in disbelief. “He's
nearly old enough to be your grandfather, Nina.”

Nina leaned toward the mirror to apply a
fresh layer of mascara to her already thick lashes. “He's old like
Paul Newman's old, like Sean Connery's old. Know what I mean?” She
leaned back, blinked her lashes at her reflection. “So, is he
married?”

Eden spent the rest of that evening observing
Kyle's deft, effortless evasion of Nina's seduction, and she
realized with a jolt that this was something he was accustomed to
doing, something he had most likely done all his life.

Here at Lynch Hollow she could see the signs
of age creeping in. He was moving a little more slowly and Eden
watched him grimace as he sat next to Lou on the sofa.

“Arthritis,” he said. “Finally catching up to
me.” The wheelchair had been a part of Lou's countenance for a long
time, but Eden hadn't expected this change in Kyle. It sent a
quick, unexpected sliver of fear through her.

Conversation sagged as it always did between
the three of them. Not once during the years she'd lived with them
as a teenager had a conversation between them taken flight. She
knew it was her fault, as it was most likely her fault now. With
most people she could keep up an easy superficial chatter from
behind her Eden Riley mask. But she could only play herself with
Kyle and Lou, and that was the one role for which she could never
memorize the lines.

Kyle suddenly set his tea on the coffee table
and stood up. “I have something for you.” He left the room and
reappeared a few minutes later with a thin gift-wrapped package
about the size of a magazine. He put it on the table and took his
seat again next to Lou, who edged closer to him. “Birthday
present,” he said. There was reluctance in his voice, as if this
was a gift he was not certain he wanted her to have.

Eden opened the wrapping to discover a dark
clothbound notebook. She looked up at Kyle.

“Part of your mother's journal.”

“What?” She set her hand on the notebook.
“She kept a journal?”

Kyle nodded. “I meant to give it to you long
ago, but…” He shrugged. “Your mother was so misunderstood. I didn't
want you to misunderstand her too.”

Lou set her hand on Kyle's arm.

“Even now, I'm hesitant,” he said. “Selfish,
I guess. I was the only one who knew about it.”

“My father didn't know?”

Kyle hesitated, his eyes on Lou's hand where
it rested on his wrist. “Matt knew. But he never read it.” He
straightened his spine with a great sigh. “So. I'll give them to
you—there are more notebooks, about a dozen, and I know Kate wanted
you to have them. But I plan to mete them out to you, one by one,
because I don't want you to skip ahead. She was a complex person,
your mother. A complex woman. And if you don't understand her at
age thirteen”—he leaned forward and held up the notebook—”you'll
never understand her at thirty-one.”

Eden sat back. Thirteen to thirty-one! The
journal would make her research a snap. She probably would not need
the whole summer here after all. Still, she felt more trepidation
than delight at the thought of reading her mother's words about her
life. There would be little room for interpretation, for bending
the facts to fit her theme. And it was too close. She would have to
read with a distanced eye.

“You don't need to worry,” she said. “I've
always felt she was misrepresented. I'm tired of seeing her
portrayed as cold and detached.”

Kyle stood up and turned to face the wall of
glass, hands in his pockets, shoulders tensed, and Eden wondered if
she'd said the wrong thing.

“Kate wasn't cold,” he said. “She chose
isolation because it was safer for her.” He turned to face her.
“I'll help you in any way I can, Eden. But I don't want any filming
in the cavern. The cavern stays sealed up.”

“That's fine.” She had expected that, and in
a way it relieved her. She was a little frightened of the cave. “We
can find another cave or re-create that one.”

“I hope you're not going to be disappointed,”
Kyle said. “A story about a woman who spent ninety-five percent of
her time in a cave could be pretty dull.”

“Well, it probably won't be for everyone, but
I don't plan on it being boring.”

“You must be exhausted after your drive,
dear,” Lou said.

Eden set her plate down on the table and
stood up with a false weariness. She'd lost three hours of the day
flying east and she was not actually tired, but it would be a
relief to be alone again. “Yes, I really am. I guess I'll go to bed
early.”

Kyle picked up the notebook and held it out
to her, like a dare. “Maybe you'd like to do a little reading
before you go to sleep?”

She took the book from him.

“I'll speak to my partner, Ben Alexander,
about showing you the archaeological site tomorrow.” Kyle walked
with her toward the stairs. “You should get a feel for it so you
can understand why Kate was so fascinated by it.”

Eden nodded. Kyle had her research well
planned out for her.

Her mother's room was spacious and welcoming
with its old pine furniture and double bed. A blue wicker rocker
faced the north window, a small pine desk sat in front of the
south. She viewed it all with a practiced eye, picturing the way
the room would look on the screen. She imagined Katherine rocking
in the rocker, sitting at the desk.

She began emptying her suitcase, setting the
picture of Cassie on the dresser. Cassie was on a swing at the
park, her brown hair flying straight out behind her. She wore her
usual devilish grin. Eden looked around the room for a phone, but
there was none. Good. It would make it easier to resist constant
calls to Pennsylvania. She was not used to this, having no one to
tuck in, no one badgering her for another story, a glass of water,
an extra good-night kiss. She'd never been this far from her
daughter. Even when she had to travel to a film location, she'd
taken Cassie with her. The separation this summer was the product
of the liberal visitation the judge had ordered for Wayne after the
hideous court battle. She would never forgive Wayne for his attempt
to disparage her as a mother. He and Pam could offer Cassie a
normal life, he'd told the judge. “My daughter's been in the public
eye since her conception,” he said truthfully. “I don't want her to
grow up thinking Hollywood is the real world.”

Eden had brought one other picture with her.
This photograph was unframed, dog-eared and yellowed. The woman in
the picture knelt in a corner of a rectangular archaeological pit,
smiling up at the photographer. She had beautiful straight white
teeth. Her thick honey-colored hair, the same color as Eden's, hung
over her shoulder in a long braid. She wore khaki shorts, a white
shirt open at the neck. She looked about twenty-five or -six. It
was one of Eden's few pictures of her mother, one she shared with
the rest of the world since it was the publicity photo most often
used on the dust jackets of Katherine's children's books.

Eden propped the picture up against the lamp
on her night table. She pulled a pendant from her makeup case and
set it next to the picture. The pendant was an oval of white
porcelain with a delicate lavender flower painted in the center. It
had been her mother's. Kyle had given it to Eden for her sixteenth
birthday, but she had never felt comfortable wearing it. She wasn't
certain even now why she had brought it with her.

She changed into her short white satin
nightgown and got under the covers, looking over at the journal on
the night-stand. The cover, probably once a dark green, was now
nearly black with age. The book didn't close flat because the edges
of the pages were wavy, as though they'd spent too many years in
the damp. Eden opened the cover and saw her mother's neat
handwriting, blue ink on yellowed, lined paper. She closed the book
again. No, not tonight. Not yet.

The squeal of brakes and the sound of metal
grating against metal woke her. Eden sat up in the darkness, heart
pounding. It took her a minute to figure out where she was. Lynch
Hollow. And it had only been a nightmare. The nightmare. It had
been a long time since she'd had it, but every detail was the same.
The darkness, the sickening grating, crunching sound that went on
forever. She'd turn around in slow motion to see the white sedan
and black station wagon fused together under the surreal glow of a
streetlamp. At least this time she'd awakened before the screaming
began.

She got out of bed and walked to the window.
The thin moon was the only light and she could barely make out the
place where the yard turned from grass to forest.

Only a dream, she told herself. You're awake.
You're okay.

She'd known this would happen, hadn't she?
She couldn't be in the same house with Lou and Kyle and not have
that nightmare.

God, Lou, I would give anything if I could
change what happened.

She turned on the night table lamp to chase
the shadows from the room and sat in the rocker next to the window.
She wouldn't go back to bed until her head was clear of the dream.
She rocked, and the motion soothed her. Her eyes rested on the old
green notebook. She sighed, turned her chair so the light was over
her shoulder, and reached for her mother's journal.

–
3–

April 4, 1941

I'm in trouble again. Ma found the
dictionary Mrs. Renfrew gave me and burned it. I saw her take it
out in the yard and light a match to it. And when she finds me I'll
get the strap again for sure.

My hand is shaking as I write this, so
excuse the wobbly letters. I always get scared when I know a
beating's coming because I'm never sure how far she'll take it. I
practically have callusses on my legs and backside from the razer
strap, so I guess I should be used to it by now, but I can't stop
shaking. I'll lie about the dictionary and tell her I found it so I
don't get Mrs. Renfrew in trouble.

I didn't think Mrs. Renfrew liked me, but
besides the dictionary she gave me this notebook. She said I should
write in it like a diary, only not just what happens each day, but
what I think about what happens too. I laughed when she said that
because I'd get in worst trouble than usual if she knew what I was
thinking. She must of read my mind, because she said, “Kate, this
journal is only for your eyes. You don't have to show it to me or
anyone else.”

That stopped my laughing and gave me a good
feeling, like I have a secret friend I can tell anything to. I have
to hide this book good though, because if Ma ever found it she'd
kill me and Mrs. Renfrew, too. I might let Kyle read it though,
specially as he suggested where to hide it. (Under the loose
floorboards beneath my bed.) Ma don't hold with writing or reading.
When she watches us write, she says it looks like devil scratch and
when Kyle read out loud from the bible the other night, she says he
must have it memorized, that no boy of fourteen could read that
good.

Daddy has some books hid for us in the
spring house so Ma don't know about them. He pulls them out
sometimes and lets us read instead of doing chores. Then he does
the chores hisself so Ma don't know. He has done this since we was
little, so Kyle and me read better than anybody round here.

Kyle says since Mrs. Renfrew is so nice to
me I should stop doing the things I do in class that upset her,
like pretending to pick imaginary bugs out of the air while she's
trying to teach or playing like I got out of control hickups. I
told Kyle I can't help it. It's like something comes over me and
the things just happen. Maybe Ma's right that I got the devil
inside me. I wish one of her beatings would knock it out of me once
and for all.