Secret Lives (40 page)

The building was overheated and Kyle's
apartment was up six flights of stairs. By the time I'd dragged
myself and my suitcase up, I was sweating and out of breath and
right close to retching again. I knocked on the door and a woman
answered. She was tall with black hair and she was wearing a tight
black sweater, black pants, and black boots. She held a cigarette
in a carved ivory cigarette holder.

“
I must have the wrong apartment,” I
said.

The woman smiled. “No, I think you've got
the right one, judging by your accent. You must be a friend of
Kyle's.”

I knew immediately this was Louise. I was
shocked. She looked far too old for Kyle. I had never seen anyone
quite like her.

“
I'm his sister.”

“
Kate?” The woman grinned and stepped
back so I could walk into the room. “Come in. Kyle's just gone to
the store. He's going to be so happy to see you.”

Kyle's apartment is just one room with a
little kitchen off to the side. In the main room, there's one of
those couches that pulls out into a bed. It was open, made up with
yellow sheets. I could see dents in both the pillows and I knew
this skinny black-clad woman had slept there with my brother the
night before.

Louise made me a cup of strong coffee and we
sat in the tiny kitchen. I have to say she was very nice to me,
talking about the train ride and all but I couldn't think of
anything to say. I wanted to hate her. I looked at her skinny body
in its black wrapping which left absolutely nothing to the
imagination, and I could picture Kyle touching her as he had
touched me, setting his mouth between her legs, and I went into the
bathroom to get sick.

When I came out Kyle was in the kitchen
talking to Louise. He hugged me quickly. “You should have told me
you were coming,” he scolded. There wasn't even the slightest smile
on his face.

“
I need to talk to you,” I said.
“Alone.”

Louise hopped to her feet. “See you at my
place later, Ky.” She kissed Kyle on the cheek and after she left I
saw the discomfort in Kyle's eyes at being alone with me. He poured
us both more coffee.

“
I can't believe you came up here,” he
said.

“
That woman is wrong for you.”

Kyle laughed. “You don't even know her.”

“
She's too old for you.”

“
She's only thirty-two.”

“
I think you're only with her to forget
about me.”

Kyle shook his head. “I'm with her because I
love her.”

I couldn't breathe. Didn't the night in my
cavern mean anything to him? “Do you make love to her like you made
love to me?” I asked.

Kyle looked worried that someone might hear
me. He leaned towards me and practically whispered, “You have to
forget that night ever happened, Kate. It was very wrong of me to
give in to those feelings.”

“
Can you really forget how good it
felt?”

Kyle stood up abruptly. “I don't let myself
remember. I feel sick to my stomach when I do.”

I knew I had to leave. I wasn't welcome
here. Kyle had a new life and a new woman. The thought of me made
him sick. I couldn't possibly tell him I was carrying his
child.

I thought of New York waiting to swallow me
up once I stepped outside his door. I'd have to find a cab, get
back to the train station, stand in line. My heart pounded like it
would burst just from thinking about it, but I forced myself to
stand up.

“
I shouldn't have come,” I said, reaching
for my suitcase.

Kyle looked confused about what to do.
“Kate, you can stay. I mean, Lou has room at her place. I don't
think you should stay here with me, though.”

I left, closing the door on his insulting
words. I walked slowly down the stairs, hoping he would come after
me, but of course he didn't. He is through with me, through with
Lynch Hollow, with his old life.

In a daze, I found a cab and rode back to
the station. I wanted to die right then. The one person I could
always count on no longer wanted to be a part of my life. I
understood my real mama wanting to kill herself. I thought how easy
it would be to jump in front of a train, how quickly it would be
over. Then I thought of how strong my mama was to wait until after
I was born to do herself in. I at least owed that much to my
baby.

When my train arrived at the Winchester
station, I called Matt and he came to pick me up. I was crying out
of control by that time, so he drove me back to his house. He held
me to comfort me and pried the story out of me. I told him Kyle and
I had made love before he left for New York.

I have never seen Matt even close to anger,
so I was shocked when he began storming around the living room,
slamming his fist into the walls and kicking the furniture.

“
How could he do that to you?”

I explained that I was as much to blame as
Kyle, but Matt shook his head. “No, Kyle knows better. You don't
have a normal sense of right and wrong.”

I suppose I should have been insulted, but I
couldn't argue with him. I could see nothing wrong with what Kyle
and I had done, even though it's obvious to me now it was a
mistake.

Finally Matt sat down on the sofa. His face
was still red from his fit of temper. “I'll never forgive him for
this,” he said. “Never.”

“
I'm pregnant,” I blurted out. It felt
wonderful to say those words out loud for once.

Matt was quiet for a full minute. Then he
laughed. “Looks like you have no choice but to marry me, Kate.”

Well, I told him I wasn't about to marry
him, but that he is the finest, sweetest man alive for asking. He
said he'll help me any way he can. He offered to go to New York and
“talk some sense” into Kyle, but I made him promise not to tell
Kyle a thing. I don't want Kyle to be kind to me out of guilt or a
sense of responsibility. I just want him to love me like he used
to, before New York, and before Louise, and before September 5th,
1954.

January 20, 1955

I got a letter from Kyle today. He
apologized for his “confusion” when I visited. He was “surprised”
to see me and “not sure what to make of it.” “Next time, write
first.” He hopes I got home all right, he hopes I am happy. He
signed it, “Please write soon. Love, Kyle.” I stared at the word
“love” and tried to see in his handwriting if it is a mere word or
something more.

I don't intend to write him. All he wants to
hear about is the weather or Daddy's new car or Susanna's bout with
bronchitis. He doesn't want to hear that I'm hurt and aching
inside. I won't write to him ever again.

–
35–

Eden didn't sleep. She barely shut her eyes
the entire night. Sometime around three or four she got up and
studied herself in the mirror. She couldn't shake the feeling that
she was no longer physically normal, that she was a genetic
anomaly, and surely if she stared long enough she would see it in
the shape of her face, the lines of her palms. Her features were
Kyle's. The blue eyes, the straight nose, the perfect teeth.
Features she had always attributed to her mother.

Neither could she shake her sense of disgust.
It consumed her, and no amount of logic freed her from its grasp.
Her parents were good people, she told herself. Good people who for
one moment lost control. But in her gut she was sickened by what
she now knew about Kyle, about her mother, about herself.

Kyle had betrayed her all these years.
Through cowardice, or trying to spare her feelings, or whatever.
His motives didn't matter. She was furious when she thought of him
withholding the truth from her. If she had not decided to research
her mother's life would he ever have told her? Obvi-ously, Lou knew
as well. Both of them were watching her day by day, choreographing
her discovery not only of her mother but of herself, and working
hard to win her love in the process. Kyle had manipulated this
whole charade very well.

She would go to Ben's for a few days to give
herself time to think. She'd have to leave Lynch Hollow before
sunrise so there would be no chance of seeing either Lou or Kyle.
Right now she couldn't face them.

At quarter to five she showered and dressed.
She packed a few changes of clothing in her smaller suitcase, and
started to close up the word processor to take with her but stopped
herself. What was the point? She couldn't possibly put what she now
knew about her mother into the screenplay.

She slipped the notebook into her purse and
walked quietly down the stairs. The smell of coffee was strong, and
she knew that she was already too late to escape. Lou was in the
kitchen, sitting in her wheelchair at the table, reading
yesterday's newspaper. She wore a pink robe and her hair looked as
though it had been hurriedly gathered into place at the back of her
neck. She looked up when Eden stepped into the room.

“You read the journal,” she said.

Eden didn't answer her. She reached for her
car keys hanging on the rack by the door.

“Where are you going?” Lou asked.

“I'm going to Ben's for a few days.”

“Have a cup of coffee with me before you take
off.”

“No.”

“Running away might have worked when you were
nineteen, Eden, but it's not going to work now. Kyle wants to talk
to you. He needs to talk to you.”

Eden opened the door but turned to face Lou.
“He's had my entire life to talk to me about this. And you did
too.” She closed the door behind her and walked across the dark
yard to her car.

She knocked several times before Ben switched
on the porch light and opened his cabin door. He'd pulled the sheet
around his waist and he was sleepy-eyed. He looked at his
watch.

“It's five-thirty in the morning,” he
said.

“Go back to bed,” she said. “Just let me get
in with you.”

She fell asleep quickly. When she woke up,
the smell of coffee greeted her for the second time that morning.
He must have gotten up to make it, but he was still in bed with
her, behind her and inside her. His arm was wrapped tightly below
her breasts, his lips on her neck. He was moving slowly, gently.
Cobwebby thoughts sifted through her mind. His daughter had
awakened to find Daddy behind her, rubbing against her. She swept
the image from her mind and began moving with him. He came quickly,
and she wondered how long he'd been inside her while she slept.
They lay still for a moment. She felt her pulse beating in her
temple, her throat, low in her belly. Ben pulled out of her and
leaned over her, spreading her legs with his hands. His unshaven
cheek scratched softly against the inside of her thigh as he
lowered his mouth to her. She thought of her mother and Kyle and
tugged at his shoulder.

“I can't, Ben.”

He lifted the sheet over her although she was
drenched with perspiration and lay down again, his head next to
hers on the pillow. “What is it?” he asked.

She got out of bed and handed him the
notebook. Then she dressed and poured herself a cup of coffee and
went outside. She sat on the wooden bench on the front porch,
waiting.

Ben took a long time, longer than it would
take to read the notebook. She finished her coffee, set the mug on
the splintery wooden floor of the porch.

He finally came outside. He handed her the
notebook and bent down to kiss her forehead, holding his cheek to
her temple for a few seconds before letting go. “Wow,” he said
quietly.

“I feel so betrayed. He's known all these
years and never told me.”

Ben sat down next to her. “It would be a hard
thing to tell.”

She looked at him. “Aren't you completely
disgusted?”

“Shocked, yes. Disgusted, no. I feel sorry
for Kyle.”

“Sorry for him?”

“You were his only child. At least I'm
assuming you were. I'm sure he would have liked to have had a
normal father-daughter relationship with you, and that was
impossible.”

“My heart bleeds for him.”

“Would you rather he'd never told you? Or do
you wish he'd told you years ago?”

“I wish he'd had a little self-control in the
first place.”

“Well, then you wouldn't be here to wish
anything at all.”

“He should have told me when I was eighteen.”
She remembered herself at eighteen, already slipping away from Lou
and Kyle. If Kyle had told her then, she would have fled even more
quickly than she had. He must have known that.

“He should have told me when I got married.
This could have affected Cassie genetically, couldn't it? What gave
him the right to keep that information from me?”

Ben had a faraway look in his eyes, and she
knew that this revelation had a different meaning for him than it
did for her. “So,” he said. “Kyle Swift's not perfect after all. He
screws up just like the rest of us. I always wondered.”

She looked down at her hands. “He left me,”
she said. “He left me with Susanna and my grandfather. He left me
to be sent away to the orphanage.” She began to cry, like a child
who'd had too much all at once and needed a nap.

Ben took her hand. “Did you get any sleep
last night?”

She shook her head.

“Why don't you go back to bed?”

The thought of sleep was seductive. Ben
walked her into the cabin and watched her crawl into his bed. He
leaned over to kiss her. “Stick with me,” he said. “I know all the
tricks for escaping your emotions.”

She woke up off and on during the morning,
and each time she opened her eyes, Ben would leave the dollhouse
and come over to sit next to her. He didn't say much, just held her
hand until she lost herself in sleep again.

At noon he made her a cup of tomato soup,
although it was at least eighty degrees in the cabin, and a grilled
cheese sandwich. She sat up to eat, propping the one long pillow
against the wall.