Secrets in the Attic by V. C. Andrews
"The attic? Why?"
I sat and stared at the floor. "Karen and I made that our special place. I just like to go up there and think, be by myself."
"Oh, I see. Helps you to feel closer to her, huh?"
I looked up sharply. If he only knew how true that was.
"Yes," I said.
"Look. You have to stop beating yourself to death about this, Zipporah. There's no way anyone could or would think you had any blame. She was your best friend. She didn't want you to tell anyone what was going on in her house, and you respected her wishes. Friends are precious. The famous English novelist E. M. Forster wrote, 'If I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friend, I hope I should have the guts to betray my country.' "
"Really?"
"Yes," my father said, smiling "Friendship is valuable. Your country is important, but loyalty to someone you love or who loves you is harder to betray."
He kissed my cheek.
"Oh," he said, returning to his chair. "There was a message back at the office for me from that detective, Simon. It just said to call tomorrow. I suspect it has something to do with what we talked about yesterday. I gave the information to the right people at the district attorney's office to get things under way. Don't worry. I'll set the ground rules for any more discussions between them and you," he said finally. "They'll treat you with respect, or else."
"Okay, Daddy. Thanks I'm going up to finish my homework," I said.
"By the way, your brother just told me he's cutting his visit with his roommate's family short. He'll be back next Sunday."
"Why?"
"He's worried about you," he said. "That's nice," he added. "Of course, he'll see the new car. Let him be surprised. Since he's being so nice and worrying about you, we'll let him take a ride in it, huh?"
I smiled, but my thoughts weren't about gratitude. They were about Karen and what I had to tell her to do. She had to leave before Jesse returned. It wouldn't be easy hiding her from him.
I started up the stairs and stopped.
She was standing there, just in the shadows. "I heard everything," she whispered.
I looked back quickly to be sure my father was nowhere in sight and couldn't hear. Then I hurried up. She went directly into my room, and I followed. I couldn't believe that she had decided to take such a risk at this time.
"Why did you come down from the attic while my father's here?" I asked in whisper.
"I thought after all that's just happened, I had better hear everything I can firsthand," she said. "Don't worry. I'll get back up there without him hearing me. He usually watches television for a while this time in the evening." She smiled. "I know his routine."
"How?"
"There were times I came down and spied on your parents without you or them knowing."
"You did what?"
"Don't worry. I'm a trained church mouse."
She sat on my bed. Hearing her tell me this added to my sense of guilt and made me feel like more of a traitor to my own family. I had made it possible for her to snoop on my parents. What else had she observed?
"What do you mean, you spied on them? When, exactly?"
"Oh, there were times when you were gone but your mother was home before going off to her shift, and there were times when your father appeared unexpectedly," she added.
"Unexpectedly?"
She smiled. "What do they call that, afternoon delight? It's nice to see people married that long still have great passion for each other."
I felt the blood rush into my face. "What are you telling me, Karen?"
"Don't be thick. There's nothing wrong or dirty about it. They're married."
"You watched them?"
"Well, not exactly watched. I listened," she said. "I was bored sick! It helped me pass the time," she said, raising her voice.
I looked back at the door.
"Quiet," I snapped in a loud whisper.
"He's already got the television on." She looked at her watch. "I can even tell you what he's probably watching. Don't look so shocked, Zipporah. I always paid a lot of attention to what your parents did and said when I was here. They've always been . . . fascinating to me. All I've known, especially these past few years, is a mother who was so into herself she could examine her own kidneys. Besides, we're sisters," she added. "Do you think I would tell anyone anything I heard or saw in this house? It's become our house. Whether your parents know it or not, they've adopted me."
She smiled.
"Right?"
I shook my head. What was she saying? She was scaring me more and more.
"Adopted you?"
"You know what I mean. Not literally, legally adopted me, although you know I always wish they could. What I mean is, right now, thanks to you, they're providing me food and shelter. Don't blame me for imagining that they provide love as well. Or do you think they hate me now?"
"No, they don't hate you. Of course not. My father and mother are very concerned about you. That's all I hear from them."
"So?" She raised her arms. "That's why I say they've adopted me." Her expression hardened. "No one else but you and your parents really cares about me, least of all my own mother. Look at what she let happen."
I nodded. She was right. How could I be angry at her for anything? I might not have acted any differently if I were in her place, not that I ever could be.
"Okay. If you were listening, you heard what my father said about the detective. I'm worried about being questioned again by the police. I guess you were right. I should have kept my trap shut. Now I have to be in the spotlight again."
"Don't worry. We'll work it out," she said. She rose. "Let's think about it. What can you tell them? What do you actually know?"
"Just what you told me," I said.
"Exactly. What did I tell you? Be specific. Go on. Imagine you're in the police station. What did Karen Stoker tell you about her stepfather?"
"That he came into your room at night."
"Her room," she corrected.
"Her room. That he groped her and then he forced himself on her, especially when her mother wasn't around."
"Didn't she tell her mother about all this?"
"She said she tried, but her mother wouldn't listen, and she was afraid the more she pushed it, the more her mother would think she was only trying to turn her against Harry. She said her mother even ignored him being violent. I did see a bruise on her arm one morning, and she wouldn't talk about it. She acted as if she was ashamed about it. Oh. That's when you told me about your headaches . . ."
"She told you."
"She told me, and she even went to the nurse because of them. I already told them that, but now I'm telling them why."
"Exactly. Perfect. So, there it is. Simple. You can't give any more detail than that, Zipporah. Nothing to it, really. Just tell it like you just told it to me, and that's it. It will be my mother's problem after that. She'll be the one under suspicion. They won't accept her denials and her see-no-evil, hear-no-evil routine. The nurse will confirm I was in her office. The right amount of suspicion will be raised. And if I know this town, it will leak out eventually, and the chatterboxes will be open. Darlene will speed up her departure, believe me," she added. "It's just a matter of a little more time."
She did make it sound so simple, so matter-offact and predictable. From where did she get such confidence? She should be more frightened and nervous than I was. She smiled, and then she yawned and stretched.
"I'm tired," she said. "It's been a long day. You must be exhausted, too, considering what you've been through. Let's both get some sleep."
She started for the door and stopped. "I heard your father say your brother was coming home earlier than expected. What was that bit about a new car?"
"My father's bought a sports car?'
"That you'll be able to drive; too, after you have your license?"
"Yes."
She stood there, thinking. I could see the envy washing through her face.<
"And your brother will be here soon," she said, almost in a whisper to herself.
"Yes, he will. What will we do about that?"
She snapped back to attention. "Nothing. If we kept it all from your parents, why shouldn't we be able to keep it from him) Besides, he's not going to lie around the house, is he? He's supposed to go to work with your father's agency, right?"
"Right," I said.
"So there," she said, and opened the door.
"But how much longer can we do this, risk your being discovered?" I asked.
She thought a moment. "The house will protect me," she said.
"What?"
"Remember? Lucy Doral killed her husband in this house, and the house kept the secret."
She laughed silently and then slipped out the door. I watched her practically float up the stairway to the attic. She was that quiet. She opened and closed the door with as much noise as a breeze blowing through, and moments later, she was one with the darkness above and gone just like a dream.
Below, my father was laughing at something he had heard and seen on television. I didn't know what he was watching. I never paid much attention to it.
But Karen knew.
She was more of a member of this family than I had ever imagined she could be.
Fatigued and drowning in many emotions, I prepared for bed and cuddled my pillow. All I wanted to do was escape into that world of dreams where everything real was excluded and everything unpleasant was soon forgotten. A little while later, I vaguely sensed my father had come up to bed himself and peeked in to see me. He turned off a light I had forgotten to turn off, fixed my blanket the way he used to when I was a little girl, and then just touched my cheek as if he wanted to be sure I was really still there. I didn't open my eyes, but I could see him standing there, gazing down at me, a soft, somewhat sad smile written on his face.
All parents knew that someday, their children wouldn't be there; they'd be gone to become parents themselves or to find their way in the world, and what was once real to our fathers and mothers would be like a dream to them. We'd all become ghost children.
Could Karen's mother really be happy now? Was there a degree of selfishness so high that she or anyone like her could tolerate the absence of her child, her daughter? For people like that, children were only burdens. They didn't come from within, but in their minds, they were rained down upon them in a storm of divine wrath, perhaps as punishment for past sins or lust.
I couldn't imagine what it was like to be Karen now, to think of yourself as a form of punishment, never to be appreciated. She used her bitterness and anger to cloak her sadness. I imagined her alone, sobbing in the darkness above me, now that I couldn't see. Instead of cuddling with a pillow and hoping for candy 'dreams, she was clinging to herself, afraid to let go all night, afraid she would merely come apart and become like the artifacts and antiques stored away and forgotten in the attic.
What could be more pathetic than a nest without eggs, without birds?
Either I imagined it, or my father whispered, "Good night, Zipper."
That made me think of Jesse, and suddenly, I was no longer afraid or troubled by his homecoming. Maybe I would confide in him He would find a solution, I thought. After all, he was my big brother, and somehow, because we were closer in age than I was with my parents, I now felt I could have a greater reliance on him. He would be more understanding, compassionate, and forgiving.
My father slipped out of my room and closed the door softly.
Darkness took me, a willing prisoner, and morning came like an uninvited rescuer, but I could do little about it. Sunshine unraveled the day as if it were rolling out a rug of fire upon which I had to walk. I feared so much that awaited me: Dana Martin at school whispering to his friends while they looked my way, the police detective waiting for me in the police station, Karen's mother looking at me with anger and distaste, and my own parents wondering just how much more entangled in all this I really was and, therefore, they really were.
I searched my mirror for the proper mask, a face to put on that would hide my tension and guilt.
But all I could see was the face I had as a little girl, alone and desperate, full of worry, searching, reaching, depending on the strong hands of my parents and waiting to be grasped.
Too soon, I feared, I had let go.
16 She Can't Hide Forever
My father decided to take me to school the next morning, and during the ride, he tried very hard to keep the conversation between us happy and light, talking about the new car, Jesse's impending return, the upcoming summer months, some ideas he had for little excursions to lakes and even to New England, maybe Cape Cod, before the summer ended. Listening to him go on and on about the things we could do as a family, I almost did forget all that had happened.
Unfortunately, the moment we pulled up to a stop in the school parking lot, I saw Dana Martin getting out of his car. He barely glanced my way, hOwever, and a moment later was trading playful punches with some of his buddies. Before he reached the building, he joined his most recent girlfriend, Lois Morris, and put his arm around her shoulders. She didn't push him away. Instead, she laid her head against his shoulder. It was as if they had never stopped being together. For a split second, I felt like some sort of time traveler who was now thrown back to an earlier period. I'd find
Karen inside, and everything that had happened would dissolve like a bad dream.
Just before I stepped out of the car, my father touched my arm to turn me back.
"I might be busy today, Zipporah, and if I can't make it back early enough, I'm putting off your interview with the police. They know I insist on being there. It might not happen today. I know you'd like to get it over with quickly, but my court schedule is such that . ."
"That's all right. Whenever," I tossed back at him, as if it was of very little concern.
He smiled. "That's great. That's my girl. Take it all in stride. It will all be over sooner than you think."
I gave him the best smile of confidence I could manage and headed for the building. Just as I hoped and anticipated, Dana continued to ignore me the rest of the day. For one second, I thought I caught him glaring angrily my way, but he waved to someone behind me, and that was that. I kept to myself the entire day. Even Sally was off talking with someone else at lunch, and for a while, I felt not only alone but invisible. What would happen now, after Karen? I wondered. Eventually, she would have to come out of hiding, and that would be that. Would I make any new friends here? Would I be forever alone, stained by my friendship with her, a friendship I had once cherished more than anything?
I did the best I could in school, but for long periods, I found myself drifting, not so much daydreaming as just staring blankly, like someone whose brain had just turned off. I barely heard anything or noticed anything around me. Bells to end classes and move us all along were practically the only sound to which I paid any attention. I boarded the school bus at the end of the day and made my way back to my seat to stare aimlessly out the window.
In fact, I was in such a daze I didn't realize the bus had arrived at my house. Mr. Tooey called my name, and I felt myself snap back to reality.
"Oh," I muttered, and hurriedly walked down the aisle. He looked at me oddly as I passed him and went down the steps. The door closed, and the bus went along, leaving me standing alone in the afternoon sun, the breeze gently lifting leaves and moving the blades of wild grass in what looked like a quiet ballet of Mother Nature. Head down, I started for the front door and then jerked my eyes upward when I heard it open.
I spun around to look behind me and up and down the road.
Was she mad? Insane? Appearing in broad daylight? My words of reprimand for Karen were lunging toward the tip of my tongue when I turned back. I stopped in utter amazement.
Jesse was standing there, looking out at me, that big impish grin carved around his firm, strong mouth, his light blue eyes twinkling with amusement.
"Hey,
Still disbelieving what I saw, ,I shook my head. He laughed harder.
"You're not supposed to be here until Sunday," I finally managed.
He shrugged. "I made a spontaneous decision. I wasn't enjoying myself knowing what you were all going through back here. Mom can try to hide it, but her voice betrays her, and I've learned how to read between Dad's sentences."
"Do they know you're here?"
"Not yet," he said. "Just arrived about two hours ago. I drove my car around behind the garage to surprise them."
I remained standing there, looking up at him. Two hours ago? What about Karen? Did she realize someone was in the house? Did she do anything to give herself away? Did she hear him drive up? Did he hear anything? I held my breath, expecting the second shoe to drop, but he continued smiling.
"You coming in, or are you planning on camping out tonight?"
"What? Oh."
I. walked up the steps, and he stood there until he could reach out to hug me. It came as such a surprise that I almost dropped my books. I couldn't remember him ever hugging me like that.
"Sorry about what you're going through," he said. Then, feeling embarrassed by his show of emotion himself, he released me quickly and went into the house.
I followed, my confused heart thumping from fear and from joy.
"So?" Jesse said, folding his arms across his chest and standing in the living-room doorway. "How are you doing?"
"Okay," I said.
"Come on," he urged, leading me into the living room. I followed. He sat on the sofa and looked up at me. "Tell me about it."
"What do you want to know?"
"You must have had some idea, some inkling, it had gotten so bad. What happened?"
I sat in Daddy's chair but held on to my books. I had no doubt my father would tell him what I had revealed, so I had no reason to keep any of that secret anymore.
"I told Daddy everything I knew."
"Which is what?"
"Her stepfather was coming into her room at night."
His eyes widened. "You mean, to have sex with her?" I nodded.
"Holy smokes." He sat back, shaking his head. "I didn't know Harry Pearson much at all, but what I saw of him, I'd never have thought it. He was always such a pleasant guy. He seemed to be trying very hard to get Karen to like him, to accept him as her father."