Too Many Secrets (2 page)

Jennie pulled into the driveway. Gram's car wasn't there. And it was still raining.

Get a grip, McGrady
, Jennie told herself.
You're not going to cry
. She took a deep breath, switched off the ignition and reached for the door handle.

“Jennie.” Nick's voice had dropped to a conspiratorial tone. “Do you think Dad will come?”

“Maybe.” She swallowed back the lump in her throat. Nick had been born four months A.D. (After Dad), but he knew Dad almost as well as she and Mom. Nick didn't have memories, but he had pictures and stories. Dad's coming home was something the two of them thought about, especially on holidays and birthdays. They prayed a lot and for good measure, wished on birthday candles, turkey wishbones, and falling stars.

The wishes hadn't come true and neither had the prayers. Jennie looked out the side window, not wanting Nick to see the tears in her eyes or the doubt written on her face.

“Don't cry, Jennie.” Nick touched her arm. “We're going to get a daddy. You'll see. In my prayers last night I asked God if I could have Daddy for my birthday and He said yes.”

Oh, great. Jennie wiped her cheeks with her damp sweatshirt sleeve. She had that one coming. She'd built Nick's hopes up—told him Dad would come home someday. Now he'd be disappointed, and it was all her fault. Mom's fault too, Jennie reminded herself. It was Mom who always insisted on praying.

According to her, God heard everyone's prayers and answered them. Jennie remembered asking her, “If that's the case, why isn't Dad home yet?”

“God's answers aren't always what we want to hear,” she had said, “but they are always right for us.”

Jennie figured if God didn't think bringing Dad back home was right for them, then there was no point in praying about it. She didn't want anything or anyone else. Just Dad. Well, Jennie wouldn't have to depend on wishes and prayers any longer. She had a plan.

By the time Jennie got around the car to help Nick out, she was smiling. “Let's go show Mom your beautiful horse.”

“Should I tell her Dad's coming?”

“No, I think we should let it be our secret.” The last thing Jennie wanted right then was for Mom to tell Nick that Dad was never coming back.

Nick giggled and raced into the house, down the hall, and into the kitchen. “Where's my cake?”

“Whoa, Tiger.” Mom tackled him as he tore past her. “First the coat, then a hug for me,
then
you can see the cake.”

Jennie folded her arms, leaned against the door frame and watched Mom wrestle Nick out of his little jacket. “Where's Aunt Kate?”

“Gone home to pick up Kevin and the kids. They'll be here in a couple of hours.” Mom lifted Nick up so he could see his birthday cake.

“Jennie, come see. Mom made my cake with a clown on it with balloons and everything.”

Jennie joined them at the counter. “Looks great, Mom.”

“Thanks.”

Nick squirmed out of her grasp and scampered off to the family room to watch television.

“How about having a cup of tea with me?” Mom asked when he'd gone. “There's something I need to talk to you about.”

Jennie didn't want to talk to her mother right then. She was probably going to continue the conversation she'd started earlier. “Can't. I'm soaked and I've got a ton of homework … maybe later.”

For a minute Jennie thought she was going to insist, then she looked at Jennie all sadlike and sighed. “You do feel a bit damp. We'll talk later.”

Jennie wasn't doing too well on the relationship thing at the moment. Mom was probably thinking she'd suddenly gone rebellious on her. Jennie hadn't. Not really. She just couldn't handle Mom talking about Dad being gone for good.

Once she got to her room, Jennie locked herself in, yanked off the damp sweats, threw on her pink terry robe, grabbed the phone and dialed Gram's number. When she didn't get an answer, she called Ryan. No one answered there either. After she hung up, something nagged at her, felt out of place, but she couldn't think what and shrugged the feeling aside.

Mom and Kate were probably right. Maybe she was getting all worked up over nothing. But Jennie had good reason to be worried. Without Gram her whole summer would be ruined. It wasn't just the trip to Florida; she'd be disappointed if that fell through, of course, but there was something else. Jennie needed Gram's police training and investigative skills to help her find Dad.

Jennie's plan, the one she hadn't told anyone about, not even Lisa, was to stay with Gram all summer and talk her into reopening the case. It wouldn't be hard. Jennie had the feeling Gram had already done some snooping on her own. It wasn't anything she said, just the look she'd get in her eyes, the trips she took, the secrets. Gram had a lot of secrets.

Jennie wished she could have talked with her mom about it. She'd tried once around Christmastime. Mom had looked up from her knitting and said, “Jennie, you're chasing rainbows. It's time to grow up and face reality. You can't find your father, no one can. He's dead.” Mom had picked up a tissue and pretended to blow her nose.

In a way Jennie could understand how Mom felt. Five years was a long time to wait. But Dad was alive. He was out there somewhere, and somehow Jennie would find him.

Fortunately, Gram and Mom didn't think alike. Jennie remembered Gram telling her and Lisa stories when they were little about Noah and the ark and the rainbow God gave them when the flood ended. When she finished her stories she'd smile and say, “God gave us rainbows to remind us that He will always bring sunshine after a storm. Rainbows are a sign of hope to give us faith no matter how terrible life gets.”

Gram would help her find Dad.
But Gram is missing. No! Don't even think it, McGrady. You have to think positive
. “Gram is coming.” Jennie said the words aloud to drown out the negative voices in her head. Gram might have forgotten like Mom said. Or maybe she's on her way. Maybe she found Dad and is bringing him with her.

“Yeah, and maybe you'll sprout wings and fly,” Jennie heard herself say. The sarcasm surprised her. What was wrong with her? She was usually positive about him being alive, but lately she'd been feeling more and more like a little girl playing make-believe. Part of her was so sure, yet another part of her kept saying, “It's no use.”

Knowing what she had to do, Jennie yanked open the closet door and pulled down her journal and a large cardboard storage box labeled “Dad's Things” from the closet shelf. If she got to thinking he might not come back or forgot what he looked like, she'd look at his stuff and write him a letter.

Jennie set the box on her bed and reached for his picture—the one she kept on the nightstand. Dad's eyes were dark blue, the shade of new denims. He looked back at her as though they were sharing some kind of secret, and Jennie almost expected him to wink. She set his picture down, then plopped his tweed hat on her head and wrapped the matching wool scarf around her neck. Her friends would probably think she was a little strange, but somehow, wearing his things brought his memory closer. And Mr. Banks, her psychology teacher, would probably say, “Miss McGrady, you appear to be obsessing.” But it wasn't like that. She just needed to think about him sometimes and talk to him.

“I'm sorry, Dad,” Jennie whispered, then picked up her journal and pen and started writing.

Dear Dad,

Back in the car when Nick asked if you were coming home, I got really shook. It wasn't Nick's question that scared me, it was my reaction. For a minute, I had a terrible feeling you were never coming home. I'm sorry for doubting. I know you'd be here if you could.

Mom's comment about your never coming back must have set me off. But don't worry, I'm sure Mom didn't mean it. We won't forget you, Dad, and we won't give up. But please try to come back to us soon … and if you can't … maybe Gram and I can come to you.

Your faithful daughter

Jennie signed the letter and set the journal aside. Someday, when he came home, she would sit beside him and let him read it. She picked up his picture again and traced the outline of his face, his almost black hair. She and Nick had inherited their Dad's blue eyes and dark hair. Jennie had also inherited the McGrady shape—lean and lanky, just like Aunt Kate and Gram. She had her Mom's nose, but that was all. Lisa was shaped just like Jennie's mom, about five-three, with curves in all the right places. Kate kept telling Jennie not to worry. “We may never fill out a B-cup,” she'd say, “but at least we won't have to worry about being overweight.”

Jennie smiled. She liked being a McGrady, even down to the stubborn streak that her mom kept hoping she'd grow out of. Jennie took the rest of her dad's things out of the box, one by one. The wooden horse she'd given him for Christmas one year. His golf trophy from college. The model airplane they'd worked on together one winter when he was between assignments. The rocks and shells they'd collected on the beach by Gram's house. When they covered her comforter, she knelt on the floor, rested her arms on the bed, and stared at them for a long time.

“Jennie.” Mom knocked on the bedroom door. “It's five o'clock. Hurry and get ready, then come help me with dinner. There's something I need to tell you before everyone gets here.”

“Be there in a minute.” Jennie returned Dad's things to the box and set them, along with the journal, on the closet shelf. It didn't take long to pull on jeans and a cotton sweater and check her hair. She stuffed her feet into a pair of loafers on her way down the stairs.

The doorbell rang as she reached the landing. “I'll get it,” she yelled. “Maybe it's Gram.”
And Dad
. She smiled at the thought.

“Me!” Nick squealed as he squeezed in front of her and pulled open the door. “Let me. Let me!”

“Hi, you must be Jennie.” Jennie felt the smile slide off her face as a man in a leather bomber jacket stretched out his hand.

Jennie ignored the man's hand and stared at him. For a second she thought it might be Dad—but only for a second. This man's eyes were lighter, more like faded denim than indigo. His hair more brown than black.

“Ah … I'm Michael.” When Jennie didn't answer, he lowered his hand and hunkered down in front of Nick. “And this must be the famous birthday boy.” The stranger produced a bright red package with a polka-dot bow from behind his back.

“Michael …” Mom's voice sounded out of breath as she came up beside them. “You're early. Come in.”

“Mom!” Nick beamed up at her. “Look what the man gived me. Can I open it now?”

“No, you cannot.” Mom stooped to ruffle his hair. “You know the rules about presents. Put it in the living room with the others. You can open all of your presents after dinner.” She straightened and shifted her gaze to Jennie.

“Ah … Jennie.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “I meant to tell you before, but we got busy.” She looped her arm around the stranger's and drew him into the house. “This is my … friend, Michael Rhodes. We met through the singles group I've been going to and we've … ah … I invited him to Nick's party.”

Jennie felt as if she'd been slugged in the stomach. It wasn't so much what Mom said, it was the way she looked at him. The way he looked at her. Jennie backed away, her stomach churning like a cement mixer.

“Why don't you get Michael a cup of coffee?” Mom smiled, but her eyes warned Jennie not to make a scene. She turned back to the man whose bulk nearly filled the doorway. “Let me take your jacket.”

“In a minute.” Michael wrapped his arms around Mom and kissed her. He drew back and chuckled. “I've been waiting all day to do that.”

The pizza Jennie had eaten for lunch suddenly decided to escape. She ran to the bathroom, leaned over the toilet, and heaved.

That was how Mom found her a few minutes later. “Oh, honey, you're sick.”

Brilliant observation
, Jennie felt like saying, but didn't for fear she'd upchuck again.

Mom mopped her face with a warm washcloth. “Do you want to lie down for a while?”

Jennie nodded. With her mother's help she managed to get to her room and crawl into bed. Mom sat beside her on the bed and smoothed back her hair. “It's not the flu, is it?”

Jennie turned toward the wall and closed her eyes.

“I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean for you to find out about Michael this way. I was going to tell you earlier, but …”

“Why?” The word came out in a sob.

“I care about Michael. We've decided to start dating and I thought …”

“How could you? What about Dad?”

“Your father is dead, Jennie. He isn't coming back. We can't go on pretending anymore. We need to get on with our lives. Why can't you accept that?”

“Don't say that! Don't ever say that!” Jennie turned onto her stomach and crammed her head under the pillow. “They never found him. They never even found the plane.”

The doorbell sounded, and she heard voices in the entry. “All right.” Jennie felt the bed shift as her mom stood. “We won't talk about it anymore tonight. Take a few minutes to wash up, then I want you downstairs. I won't let you spoil Nick's party or Michael's visit. Is that clear?”

Then you shouldn't have invited him
, Jennie wanted to yell, but didn't. She just lay there waiting for her mom to leave. She felt as if some strange creature had taken over her body. She
never
got emotional. Lisa was the dramatic one. Jennie liked being calm and in control. And to throw up! How embarrassing. Just because Mom had a friend. A male friend. A very attractive male friend. Jennie groaned and rolled onto her back.

So Mom's dating a guy
, Jennie told herself, trying to be rational about it.
So what? It's no big deal
.

It is a big deal
, another part of her argued.
She has no right to get involved with another man. Not now, not when I'm so close
. Jennie had been waiting for years for this chance to travel with Gram … to talk her into helping find Dad. She'd rehearsed the scene a hundred times. Jennie and Gram would find him. Having lost his memory, he would be living alone, going out of his mind with worry, wondering who he was and whether or not he had a family. He'd see the two of them, and his memory would come back. They'd hug and kiss and take him home. The McGradys would be a family again: Dad, Mom, Nick, and Jennie.

That is so stupid, McGrady, you're acting like a baby
. Jennie shook her head to clear away the confusion. It didn't help. Her thoughts flew around like dust in a windstorm, then settled back in her mind again. Maybe she
was
acting like a child—maybe her dream was nothing more than a fairy tale. She was overreacting to Michael. Jennie knew that, but she couldn't help it. Michael Rhodes did not belong in their house or in their lives, not while there was a chance Dad could still be alive.

Jennie got out of bed. She had to think of a way to get Mom to stop dating him. First, though, she had to pull herself together and get through Nick's birthday party.

While Jennie waited for the splotches on her face to disappear, she straightened her room, then brushed and rebraided her hair. She was furious with Mom, but to be honest, she was even more upset with herself for being such a wimp.

“Jennie?” Lisa knocked and let herself in. “You okay? Your mom said you weren't feeling good.”

“I'm fine. Is dinner ready?” Jennie wrapped a band around her thick braid and tossed it over her shoulder so it hung down the middle of her back.

“Yeah.” Lisa cocked her head and frowned. Her mass of silky red curls swayed to one side, reminding Jennie of a model she'd seen on a magazine cover. Lisa's hair wasn't red exactly, more like copper—like a copper penny. “You know, I should be mad at you.”

“Why?” Jennie walked past her and out of the room.

“For keeping Michael a secret. I thought we'd promised to tell each other everything.”

Lisa nearly ran into her when Jennie spun around. “I didn't know, so how could I tell you?”

“You mean she's been dating that guy and didn't say anything?”

“That about sums it up.”

“You must be pretty ticked.” Lisa's green eyes met Jennie's.

“You could say that.” The concern in her best friend's eyes settled her. Jennie turned around and started for the stairs. “I should have guessed, though. She's been acting different lately … happier, singing a lot. She's been going to that meeting at church on Wednesdays. I just thought she was having fun. I thought she loved Dad as much as I do … I guess I was wrong.”

“I can't believe she didn't tell you.”

“I think she was going to, but that still doesn't make it right.” Before Lisa could ask any more about it, Jennie changed the subject. “Did your dad and Kirk come?”

“Yeah.” Lisa gave Jennie a look that said she'd let the discussion about Michael and Mom go for now, but that it was far from being over. “… and I brought Brad. Everyone's here except Gram.”

“Did she call?”

“No. Not us, anyway. Mrs. Johnson told Mom that Gram had called them this afternoon to say she's still in Calgary and doesn't know when she'll be back.”

Uneasiness settled over Jennie like a heavy blanket. She dropped onto a step in the middle of the stairway. “Gram didn't say when she'd be home?”

“No. Weird, isn't it?” Lisa scrunched down beside her. “I mean, you'd think she'd have called us, or at least sent us a card. We're her family, after all.”

“I don't like it. Do you think something might have happened to her?”

Lisa shrugged. “Mom isn't that worried yet. She did say she thought Gram was getting too old to be running all over the country. She wishes Gram would stop working so hard and act her age—maybe take up knitting or something.”

Jennie smiled at the thought. “That'll be the day. Can you imagine Gram sitting still long enough to knit an afghan?”

“Not really.” Lisa grinned and placed her hand on Jennie's arm. “She'll be okay. Maybe she didn't have time for more than one call. Maybe she plans on calling us tonight during Nick's party so she can talk to all of us.”

“I hope you're right.”

“Jennie! Lisa!” Mom called from the kitchen. “Dinner's ready.”

As the girls entered the dining room, Jennie tried to leave her jumbled feelings behind, but they wouldn't stay. They hung over her head like storm clouds, ready to burst. And they almost did when she walked into the dining room and saw Michael sitting at the head of the table—in Dad's chair.

Jennie couldn't remember ever hating anyone before. But at that moment she hated Michael Rhodes, and hated her mother even more. She felt like a time bomb about to explode, and it wouldn't have taken much more to set her off.

Jennie wasn't sure how she did it, but she managed to act normal. If anyone had known how Jennie really felt, they'd have nominated her for an Oscar. She avoided Mom and Michael and concentrated on Nick and the others. It wasn't until after dinner that the dam holding back her anger began to crumble.