Read Online The Art of Keeping Secrets by Patti Callahan Henry - Free Book Online
Authors: Patti Callahan Henry
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some woman.”
Annabelle dropped her hands, gripped them behind her back. “Is that what you think?”
“Isn’t it what you think, Mom? Come on, really.”
“No, that is not what I think.”
“Please.” Keeley rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a fool. He didn’t want any of us, and he was running away with some woman.”
Annabelle shook her head at hearing her worst fear coming out of her daughter’s mouth. “We’ve been through this together before, Keeley. Your dad did not willfully leave us. He did not choose to leave us. His plane crashed and he died.”
Keeley backed a step away from her. “Yeah, I finally believed all that shit you and the counselor told me. Now I see he really was running away. He might not have meant to die, but he did mean to leave. Lucky Jake, away at college. I wish I was gone and didn’t have to see and hear all this.”
“Do not curse. And no, he wasn’t leaving us. Just because we don’t know why he was on that plane with that woman doesn’t mean there isn’t a good reason.”
“Mother, do you hear yourself? Quoting the same old stupid thing my whole life: ‘Just because we don’t know the reason doesn’t mean there isn’t one.’ I am so out of here.” Keeley tried to grab the car keys back from Annabelle, then dropped her face into her hands and attempted, unsuccessfully, to stem the flow of her tears.
Keeley’s words threatened to open a drain at the bottom of Annabelle’s soul. She wrapped her arms around her daughter. “Oh, Keeley.”
The mystery overwhelmed Annabelle—how giving herself away in love filled her up with more to give. To love her child was to offer part of her heart while hers grew larger. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, she swore she could feel Keeley breathing, or hear her heartbeat.
The phone rang behind them and Keeley released her mother, wiped the tears from her face. “I’m going to . . . my room.”
“I’ll make us a nice dinner . . . and . . .” The phone rang again.
Keeley ran up the stairs and Annabelle grabbed the receiver.
“Hi, Annabelle dear. This is Lila. We’re all sitting here at Bible study, wondering where you are. You were in charge of the food today.”
“I was, wasn’t I?” Annabelle stared across the room, wondering what she might have in the kitchen cupboard that would suffice for a snack for ten women: stale muffins, brown grapes.
“Yes, and Reverend Preston is our guest speaker today. Remember?” Lila trilled into the phone.
“Yes, but I just can’t make it today.”
“You should have called someone to take your duties . . . or at least dropped food off for us.”
“Yes, I should have, shouldn’t I?”
Lila’s irritated exhale traveled through the receiver. “I guess we’ll just continue without food.”
“Sorry. I can drop some off, if you’d like,” Annabelle said as she went to the kitchen with the intention of finding something, anything to pack in a Tupperware container. She acted on autopilot—obligation moving her forward, commitment thrusting her into action as it had the day after the news of Knox’s death, when she’d stood in the laundry room and folded clothes into neat little piles while family and friends crowded the living room and kitchen.
“Too late,” Lila said.
“I really am sorry.” Annabelle’s hand rested on the refrigerator door in defeat. She hung up and sank onto a bar stool. She was making a mess of things—a complete and utter chaotic jumble. Pretending to go through the regular motions of life was not working. All she could think about was who had been on that plane with her husband and how someone had to know something. She mentally ticked through the list of people she needed to call and talk to before the newspaper landed on their doorstep that evening.
Who might know about this woman? If not Shawn, if not Cooper, then who? She believed both of them. They’d all grown up together, kept one another’s secrets and hidden their
Annabelle dropped her hands, gripped them behind her back. “Is that what you think?”
“Isn’t it what you think, Mom? Come on, really.”
“No, that is not what I think.”
“Please.” Keeley rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a fool. He didn’t want any of us, and he was running away with some woman.”
Annabelle shook her head at hearing her worst fear coming out of her daughter’s mouth. “We’ve been through this together before, Keeley. Your dad did not willfully leave us. He did not choose to leave us. His plane crashed and he died.”
Keeley backed a step away from her. “Yeah, I finally believed all that shit you and the counselor told me. Now I see he really was running away. He might not have meant to die, but he did mean to leave. Lucky Jake, away at college. I wish I was gone and didn’t have to see and hear all this.”
“Do not curse. And no, he wasn’t leaving us. Just because we don’t know why he was on that plane with that woman doesn’t mean there isn’t a good reason.”
“Mother, do you hear yourself? Quoting the same old stupid thing my whole life: ‘Just because we don’t know the reason doesn’t mean there isn’t one.’ I am so out of here.” Keeley tried to grab the car keys back from Annabelle, then dropped her face into her hands and attempted, unsuccessfully, to stem the flow of her tears.
Keeley’s words threatened to open a drain at the bottom of Annabelle’s soul. She wrapped her arms around her daughter. “Oh, Keeley.”
The mystery overwhelmed Annabelle—how giving herself away in love filled her up with more to give. To love her child was to offer part of her heart while hers grew larger. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, she swore she could feel Keeley breathing, or hear her heartbeat.
The phone rang behind them and Keeley released her mother, wiped the tears from her face. “I’m going to . . . my room.”
“I’ll make us a nice dinner . . . and . . .” The phone rang again.
Keeley ran up the stairs and Annabelle grabbed the receiver.
“Hi, Annabelle dear. This is Lila. We’re all sitting here at Bible study, wondering where you are. You were in charge of the food today.”
“I was, wasn’t I?” Annabelle stared across the room, wondering what she might have in the kitchen cupboard that would suffice for a snack for ten women: stale muffins, brown grapes.
“Yes, and Reverend Preston is our guest speaker today. Remember?” Lila trilled into the phone.
“Yes, but I just can’t make it today.”
“You should have called someone to take your duties . . . or at least dropped food off for us.”
“Yes, I should have, shouldn’t I?”
Lila’s irritated exhale traveled through the receiver. “I guess we’ll just continue without food.”
“Sorry. I can drop some off, if you’d like,” Annabelle said as she went to the kitchen with the intention of finding something, anything to pack in a Tupperware container. She acted on autopilot—obligation moving her forward, commitment thrusting her into action as it had the day after the news of Knox’s death, when she’d stood in the laundry room and folded clothes into neat little piles while family and friends crowded the living room and kitchen.
“Too late,” Lila said.
“I really am sorry.” Annabelle’s hand rested on the refrigerator door in defeat. She hung up and sank onto a bar stool. She was making a mess of things—a complete and utter chaotic jumble. Pretending to go through the regular motions of life was not working. All she could think about was who had been on that plane with her husband and how someone had to know something. She mentally ticked through the list of people she needed to call and talk to before the newspaper landed on their doorstep that evening.
Who might know about this woman? If not Shawn, if not Cooper, then who? She believed both of them. They’d all grown up together, kept one another’s secrets and hidden their
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