Secret Lives (42 page)

“Mommy, there's Ben!”

He turned at the sound of a child's voice. A
couple of blankets away, Alex and Leslie Parrish were taking food
from their own picnic basket, and their daughter, Kim, was running
toward him, black hair bouncing around her face. Kim. His
goddaughter who had never received her birthday gift.

He saw Alex and Leslie look up as Kim reached
him and bent over for a hug. He hugged her stiffly. He knew his
face was white.

“Kimmie, come back here!” Leslie snapped.

Kim looked at Eden, then back to Ben.
“Where's Bliss?” she asked.

“She's not with me. Kim, this is Eden. Kim's
my goddaughter and an incredible soccer player. Best eight-year-old
midfielder in Annapolis.”

“I was goalie this year.” Kim grinned.

“Yeah? How'd your team do?” He waved in Alex
and Leslie's direction. They were talking to each other, probably
trying to decide which of them should rescue Kim from him.

Alex finally stood up and started walking in
their direction. He looked heavier than the last time Ben had seen
him. His dark hair was splattered with gray.

“Hi, Alex,” Ben said when Alex had nearly
reached their blanket.

“Ben.” Alex reached out a hand to Kim. “Come
on, Kimmie.”

“Sit down a minute,” Ben said. “Eden, this is
Alex Parrish. Alex, Eden Riley.”

Eden smiled and lifted her hand to Alex, who
shook it briefly. Ben could see the shock register in Alex's face
at finding him here with Eden.

“I can't sit down.” Alex looked over at
Leslie. “I think Leslie wants to move the blanket—she wants to see
if we can get a little closer.”

And a little farther from me, Ben thought as
he watched Alex and Kim walk away from him.

Eden laid her hand on his back and set her
chin on his shoulder. “He was your best friend?”

“Yes.”

“How can he treat you so coldly?”

Ben shrugged. “He thinks I'm guilty.” He
watched the Parrishes pick up their picnic basket and work their
way through the crowd, stepping between blankets set close together
on the lawn, finally settling down again a safe distance away from
him.

He and Eden ate quietly, but Ben couldn't
take his eyes off Alex and Leslie. How many dozens of picnic
suppers had he and Sharon eaten with the Parrishes over the years?
He even knew what would be in their basket: oven-fried chicken,
three-bean salad with black olives, flan for dessert.

Leslie and Kim suddenly got up and headed
toward the concession stand, and Ben stood up himself.

“I'll be back in a minute,” he said to Eden.
He walked through the crowd until he reached Alex's blanket, where
he sat down without waiting for an invitation.

Alex looked over at him in surprise. “Ben, I
don't think—”

“Do you have any idea how it feels to have
your best friend cut you out of his life?” Ben interrupted him.

“Yeah, well, I lost my best friend in this
whole mess too.” Alex looked terrible. He was aging quickly, badly,
as though this last year had taken a toll on him as well. His face
was jowly, or maybe it was just that Ben was not accustomed to
seeing him without a smile.

“You didn't have to lose me,” Ben said.

Alex shook his head and looked at Ben with an
acidic sneer. “Eden Riley, Ben? Kyle gives you a job and throws in
his niece as a bonus, huh? Christ. Maybe I ought to screw my
daughter and see what I can get.”

Ben wanted to hit him. “Fuck you. “ He spoke
through gritted teeth, painfully aware of the futility of his
words.

Alex swirled the wine in his glass and looked
toward the concession stand. “Look, we have nothing to talk about.
You'd better get back to your blanket and your movie star.”

Ben didn't move. He pulled a splinter of
rattan from the open picnic basket. He could see the flan inside,
uneaten. “Have you seen Bliss lately?” He had to know.

Alex hesitated a moment. “Yesterday. We spent
the day out there at the pool.”

Ben pictured the scene. His house, his pool,
his wife and daughter and best friend, and the stranger who had
walked in and taken his place. “Does she seem happy?” Ben
asked.

“What do you want to hear, Ben? That she's
miserable now that she's lost her abusive daddy? Yes, she's happy.
She's just fine.”

“What's Jeff like?”

Alex shrugged. “He's okay.”

“Can you put yourself in my shoes for just a
second?”

Alex laughed. “No, Ben, I cannot. I can't
possibly imagine what it's like to feel an uncontrollable urge to
molest my daughter.”

“I'm innocent, Alex. The thing that bothers
me the most is that you've never been willing to talk to me about
this, to hear my side. All you know is what you read in the papers
or heard through the grapevine.”

“I was at the trial, Ben.”

“You were?”

“Every day. I wanted to see for myself. I sat
in the back. I heard the evidence. I saw you freak out when Bliss
was about to testify against you. I heard you confess. What am I
supposed to believe? So don't tell me I didn't try to see it your
way. I wanted to hear you were innocent.” He looked toward the
concession stand again. “You'd better go back. Leslie doesn't even
let me speak your name around the house.”

Ben stood up.

“One more thing, Ben.” Alex looked up at him.
“I have to ask you this. Don't worry, I won't press charges or
anything, but I need to know. Do you remember a couple of years ago
when Kimmie stayed with you and Sharon while Leslie was visiting
her mother?”

Ben nodded.

“Well, she started having horrendous
nightmares after that. I have to know. Did you do anything to her
back then?”

Ben swallowed the bile rising in his throat.
He turned his back on Alex and walked across the lawn to Eden as
quickly, as proudly, as he could.

The show was lost on him. He told Eden about
his conversation with Alex, but then fell quiet for the rest of the
evening while Eden held his hand, stroked his back. He said little
on the long drive home. When they pulled into the clearing by his
cabin, he turned to her.

“I'm glad tonight happened,” he said. “This
is reality. You needed to see it. I needed to see it. We have to
stop pretending. All the talk about us having a normal life
together is fantasy, Eden. You need to think long and hard about
what you're getting yourself and Cassie into. And I have a favor to
ask. If you don't think you can handle it, please leave me now?
Don't wait until I'm so full of hope about us that I—”

“Shush.” She turned in the seat and put her
arms around him. “I love you. And I'm in way too deep to get out
now, even if I wanted to.”

Once in the steamy darkness of his cabin, she
sat him down on the bed and undressed him, her fingers cool and
silky where they met his skin. He thought he would be unable to
make love to her, but she was patient and persistent. And he
thought he would be unable to sleep, but his dreams came quickly
and they were safe dreams, easy dreams. Just once did he wake up in
the middle of the night. He could see the light on by the sofa,
could see Eden curled up there in his boxer shorts and T-shirt, the
notebook open on her knees. He heard her sniffling, saw the
crumpled tissue in her hand, and let her be.

–
37–

March 10, 1955

All the world thinks the baby I'm carrying
is Matt's. Only Matt and I know the truth. It's odd how people just
assume things about me. I never announced my pregnancy, and no one
ever asked me, “Are you pregnant?” But Susanna and Daddy gradually
noticed the change in my shape and Susanna bought me a couple of
maternity dresses without ever commenting on how it is I came to be
this way. So now I wear dresses, which are not as uncomfortable as
I recall dresses being, but maybe it's just that my middle enjoys
feeling untethered for a while.

Daddy says I have to marry Matt, and Matt is
begging. I think Matt has actually started to believe this baby is
his. I don't want to marry him, but last night Susanna gave me a
long lecture about bow every baby deserves two parents. “Think of
the child,” she said. She is right. I don't want my baby to grow up
a bastard, feeling different from other children. I know what it's
like to be set apart, and I don't want that for my baby. I have
such hopes for this little one. So I've decided to tell Matt yes,
so long as we can stay here near the cave. I could not move into
his house, so far from Lynch Hollow.

I'm thinking about my own mama again, my
real mama. I don't feel at all disgraced, like she did. I wish she
could have had a man like Matt to save her from her shame.

March 22, 1955

We were married quickly by a judge friend of
Matt's on the nineteenth of March. I think it was the right thing
to do. We didn't take a honeymoon or any of that nonsense. Instead,
we spent our wedding night at his house, talking about the details
of this marriage. I was nervous, spending the night away from Lynch
Hollow, and Matt just held me the night through. He is so dear, and
he understands my feelings well. He said that he will sell his
house and that he has spoken to Daddy about building a second story
onto our house for us to live in. He asked me what I want to do
about sex. I felt shy all of a sudden, but told him I would like to
wait to make love until after the baby's born. I pretended it was
that I am uncomfortable with my expanding belly, but really I am
not yet ready to let him erase Kyle's mark on my body. Matt agreed
to this without hesitation, although he was quick to say he is not
at all put off by my pregnancy and if I should change my mind
before the baby comes, to let him know.

I do plan to let Matt make love to me after
the baby's born. I couldn't marry him and then cruelly turn him
away. And it will be worth it if it means more children.

I wrote to Kyle about the marriage but still
have said nothing about the baby.

May 1, 1955

I've been sitting here in the cave for the
last hour, just staring at this blank page, trying to think of
words to describe my terrible sadness.

Matt died yesterday. He was working on the
second story of the house when he fell, breaking his neck. I was
here in the cave when Daddy came to tell me and I wept until I was
sick. Why such a good man? Why not me instead? I am selfish and
demanding and obstinate. Matt should have married Delores Winthrop.
He would have had his nice, settled-down sort of life. He should
have told me—like any other man would tell his wife—”I've got a
perfectly fine house and you're going to live in it with me.”
Instead he was building that second story. For me and for Kyle's
child. If taking my own life would give his back to him, I would do
it in an instant. I loathe myself right now. I wish that we had
made love, that I had given him that. I wish he had not been so
quick to put up with me, that he had demanded more of me. I
wouldn't have loved him less.

Daddy has sent word to Kyle.

May 4, 1955

We still had heard nothing from Kyle by the
time the funeral started yesterday. Naylor's Funeral Parlor was
packed with the staff from Matt's paper and community people who'd
come to know and respect him. I sat up front, with Daddy and
Susanna. Susanna had somehow found a black maternity dress for me.
I could hardly sit still, hardly breathe. My belly is so big it's
left no room for any air in my lungs. I felt sweat rolling down my
back and between my breasts. And I could feel all the people behind
me, staring at me, whispering about me.

When the preacher started talking, I spotted
Kyle at the side door. He walked towards us quickly, his shoes
clicking too loudly on the floor, and slipped into the seat between
Daddy and me. He kissed my cheek and held my hand. I had to breathe
through my mouth to keep from crying.

The preacher said some nice things about
Matt, but he went on too long and I could feel Kyle's eyes on my
belly. Then I knew he was doing the arithmetic in his head, ticking
back the months. His hand squeezed mine hard and he said in a
whisper only I could hear, “Oh my God, Kate.” Both of us stared at
the preacher, not hearing a word the man said.

In the graveyard, Kyle literally held me up.
When it was over and Matt was in the ground, Kyle told Daddy he
would bring me home. We waited 'til the crowd left and then sat at
the side of Matt's new grave.

“
Why didn't you tell me?” he asked. “I
know people in New York who could have taken care of it.”

“
That's why I didn't tell you.”

“
It might have terrible problems because
of us being related.”

“
I don't care.”

“
Did Matt think it was his?”

“
Matt and I never made love. He knew the
baby was yours."

Kyle put his head in his hands and sat that
way for a long time. Finally he raised his head up and said he
would leave school and move back to Lynch Hollow. He wouldn't go to
South America. He could work in our digs and take care of me and
the baby.

I told him I didn't want that. One man had
already sacrificed his life for me and I wasn't about to let Kyle
do the same.

“
Then I'll get a job and send you
money.”

I shook my head. Matt had plenty of money
and I have some from my books. I don't need Kyle's money. “If you
really want to do something for me you can promise you'll never
again write me cold and hurtful letters that make me feel like you
don't love me anymore.”

He looked truly surprised. “I love you more
than I'll ever love anyone else,” he said. “But I can't write that
in a letter. I can't commit that sort of thing to writing. What if
the letters were found?”

I shrugged. “I write far worse in my journal
all the time.”

Kyle looked pale. “You've written about the
baby in your journal? About us?”