No Perfect Secret (27 page)

“All but empty. I went ahead and closed it. I can do all my banking from my personal account now that I’m not...sharing.”

“Anna, if you need some help...”

“I don’t. I’m good. I cashed a CD, and most of my leave is going to be paid. I had vacation time and personal time coming.”

He could hear the kitchen radio going in the background, tuned to a station out of Nashville. Happy honky-tonk music
—lots of piano and electric guitar. “Good. Good. So. What are you doing now?”

“Cooking. Lila is lending a hand. Clarence is hauling boxes out to the van and JoJo has my lap top all apart on the dining room table.”

He wanted to know what she was cooking. “She thinks it can be fixed?”

“She worked magic on the Colonel’s old desk top. Lila is cruising cyberspace like she owns it now. So, I’m hoping
JoJo can bring something up on the hard drive. I have some data on a backup memory stick, but that still leaves of lots of data I’d have to re-do. She’s drying parts with my hair dryer. It’s been a good day. We’ve accomplished a lot.”

Caburn was enjoying the sound of her voice, the soul-jarring music in the background, forgetting what he wanted to say next.

“...about eight-thirty would be fine.”

“What? I’m sorry. My brain switched off there for a minute.”

“I said, if you want to come over later—?”

“Sure. I’d like that. I hav
e some new information about...your situation.”

“Oh. That sounds ominous.” Yet, her voice was calm, as if she had already endured the worst the universe could throw at her
—and all else could be put on a shelf to sort out a later time.

~~~~

A thunderstorm passed through the Capitol late in the day, washing all the marble monuments free of dirty ice and cleansing the streets of gritty salt. Fog was building on the Potomac, slowly embracing both sides of the river. By the time Caburn reached Anna’s the murky haze obscured all but the tallest monuments.

Lila Hammond opened Anna’s door to him. She was wearing red tennis shoes, stretch pants, and an ancient flannel shirt that hung down to her knees, making her seem more waif-like than usual.

“We were wondering if you’d make it in this muck,” she said in greeting.

“How you doing, Miss Lila?” He bent low to buss her on the cheek.

“We’ve been busy all day, but I’m winding down.” She eyed the bag in his hand. “You bearing gifts?”

“A small one,” he answered.

“Well, Anna could do with a bit of cheer, however small. She’s been up and down all day. It’s awful, what Clara-Alice did to her sofa and album.”

He followed Lila into the living room. Only a single lamp cast a cone of light, but it was enough to discern the lack of furniture. “Whoa. Where’s the huge coffee table?”

A sheet had been draped over the damaged sofa. A suitcase lay open, partially packed. A wing chair had been pushed against the wall. The sofa, the chair and the table lamp were all that was left in the near empty space.

“We had to take that sucker apart so the Goodwill folks could get the bedsteads and chests out. It’s leaning against the wall in Anna’s bedroom. Anna just kept pointing to stuff for them to take. I tried to caution her about getting rid of so much, but she said it had bad mojo.
C’mon. I’ll show you.”

Anna’s bedroom held only an antique armoire, a mirror, and the dismantled coffee table. The closet doors were open. They were empty except for a single suit of
men’s clothes hanging on an inside hook. Lila waved toward the clothes. “She kept those back for the funeral.”

Caburn’s stomach tightened. The tightness moved to his throat.

Lila switched on the light in Clara’s room. It was empty except for taped up cardboard boxes. All were labeled with her name and a list of contents. “Clarence and I packed everything in here. The furniture was Anna’s—so Goodwill took it. Clara-Alice’s furniture is in the basement. Anna said once Clara-Alice lands somewhere, she’ll ship it to her.” Lila shuddered. “Let’s go. It feels spooky in here.”

Anna’s laptop was still in pieces on the dining room table.

“Ain’t that a shame,” Lila said, pointing. “Makes you wonder what’s been going through Clara-Alice’s mind all these years.”

In the kitchen the aroma of fried pork chops lingered in the air. The door to the basement was open. Lila moved to the top step. “Anna! Frank’s here.”

“I’ll be up in two minutes,” she called.

Lila moved down a step. “I’m going home, now. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay. Thanks for your help today. You were great.”

Caburn exchanged goodnights with Lila, and moved to take her place on the basement steps. “You need any help down there?”

He heard a drawer click shut and Anna appeared in the dim light of the basement bulb. She came up the flight of stairs, her hands full of files.

Her hair was pulled into a ponytail, revealing her small ears. She wore no makeup; her cheeks and hands were flushed with the chill she’d experienced in the basement.

“No. I’ve got what I need.” She smiled, taking in the long muscular length of him, made to appear more so by the slimness of faded jeans worn low on his hips. His well-worn chambray shirt was tucked in, the unbuttoned collar revealing a white undershirt. His sandy-colored hair, beginning to show more curl, was awry. His jean jacket and knit cap were folded over the back of a kitchen chair. Anna was intently aware of his body—and her own.

She felt an uptick in her heart beat. The faint smell of his aftershave rose on the warm kitchen air. She knew his scent well now. She had slept in the guest bedroom last night, her head on the pillow that was redolent with Old Spice. The sheets and blankets held that peculiar odor of hospital adhesive. As her body warmed the bed, the smell had grown stronger. It was oddly comforting, especially after the destruction
Clara-Alice had left behind. She had slept dreamless and to her astonishment, awakened wholly refreshed and energized.

She put the files on the table. “There’s a plate of pork chops and mashed potatoes warming in the oven. And, cold asparagus
—if you’re hungry. I didn’t invite you to dinner because I didn’t want it turn into a party. I bought a six pack of beer, too. Clarence and JoJo have been wonders...I just can’t talk them into accepting money.”

“I can always eat pork chops.” He pointed to the paper bag. “Helen and I went to the mall today. We thought you might enjoy this
.” He slid the Godiva chocolates from the bag.

“Oh. I love Godiva.” She made a soft, exuberant sound in her throat. “But I’m not eating a single piece on the same day I tried on swimsuits. No way.” She whisked the box off the table and into the pantry. “I hope I don’t sleepwalk tonight.”

“You sleepwalk?”

“No, but I’ve never gone to bed with a huge box of Godiva in the pantry either.”

Caburn was pursing his lips.

“Does that hurt your feelings
?”

“No. I was just wondering how Clarence gets anything done with his long black fingernails and flyswatter eyelashes.”

“Oh. Those are his Savannah persona. Those are gone until he goes back to work. He took out his hair extensions, too. JoJo cut his hair. He looks like a regular person now. Except for his OCD rituals, of course. He’s kind of cute.”

“What does that mean? Kind of cute.”

Using a pot holder she put the plate of chops and potatoes on the table then grabbed a beer and the plate of asparagus from the fridge. Knife, fork and napkins came next. Caburn sat down, but did not begin to eat.

“Cute
—not handsome. Unless you know, you really can’t tell he’s different. He doesn’t swish his fanny.”

Caburn rolled his eyes. “Stop. I get the picture. Do you mind if I use my fingers to eat these pork chops?”

“Go ahead.” She spread the files out across the table.”

“What’re those? Something for me?”

“Nope. I tried paying for my swimsuits and a wrap with our Visa card and it was declined. I gave them our MasterCard, and it went through. When I got home I called, and found out the Visa was maxed out. I’m trying to figure out what Kevin spent all this money on.”

Caburn held up a finger until he swallowed. “Albert talked to us about that. The other
…um—”

“Woman
—Janie,” Anna injected.

“She couldn’t be put on Nesmith’s insurance at work. You’re on it. Albert figures Nesmith had to pay cash for the hospital and doctor bills for the little boy
.”

Anna went very still. A few seconds later, she nodded. “Yes, of course. I didn’t even think about it in practical terms. Obviously, a second mortgage, utilities, food, clothes, cars, furniture
.” She leaned back in her chair. “I’m scaring myself. I wonder how much of all this I’ll be responsible for?”

“You’ll only be responsible for those that are joint accounts
—that you signed the application jointly.”

“Are you certain? That’s only the MasterCard and the Visa. My car is paid for. My name is not on his car, and his name is not mine. But we’re on the auto insurance together.” Anna thought back to when they signed the papers on the house at the title company. Kevin had balked at having his name on the mortgage. He had smoothed it over with a compelling argument: The down payment had been her inheritance. She was young, naïve, new in marriage, unaware of the complexities of a financial life.

Caburn took his used cutlery to the sink. He poured a glass of ice water and sat down again across from Anna. “Your brain is working. I can see wheels turning through your eyes.”

“You are going to find other women out there. I mean, besides me and Janie.”

“How? I mean what made you come to that conclusion?”

“Because he didn’t want his name on anything
—like real property. He balked at having his name on our mortgage. I thought he was being sweet at the time. But that wasn’t it. I’m a researcher. Property ownership is on line now. Who owns what is public information.”

“Credit cards aren’t real property?”

“No, they are not. I filled out those applications and ordered him a card.”

Caburn took a long drink of water. “Well
, one of the things I wanted to talk to you about was that we did find another woman. You mentioned St Augustine a couple of times and Albert thought we ought to follow up.”

Anna felt a small explosion in the secret places in her heart. She had never allowed her suspicions to come to fruition for fear she might find a truth that would shake the foundation she had built her life upon. She had buried those suspicions so deep, it had taken the cataclysm of Kevin’s death to resurrect them.

Caburn reached into his pocket and brought out a folded and crumpled envelope.

Anna smoothed it out. “Before I look. Were there children?”

“No.”

It was two pages. A divorce decree. “Kevin was married before?”

“That’s what is says.”

Her
fingertips were scrolling down the sheets of paper. “At least he divorced…”

Her finger stopped on the date of dissolution.

The astonished pain in Anna’s expression made Caburn cringe.

She stood up so suddenly her chair overturned. She felt raw
—violated and used. “I need to be alone, Frank.”

He moved to put her chair right. “Allow me to stay. Please. I don’t like to think of you alone
.”

“But I’ve been alone all these years. Don’t you understand?
I get it now. The only reason Kevin stayed as long as he did was that I was his mother’s caregiver.”

“I do understand. He betrayed you.”

“Yes he did. His secret was perfect. Perfect! Until he died. I wish he wasn’t dead—just so I could tell him what I think of him.”
Punish him
. Dr Neal’s words flashed into her mind.
You can’t punish him—he’s dead
. Oh. It was so unfair.

Caburn exhaled. “
No secrets are ever perfect. People always know something. They just don’t know they know it.”

“
I won’t argue with that. How many hours a day do you practice convolution?”

“If I knew what convolution was, I could tell you.
What’re you going to do?”

“Shampoo my hair.”
Talk to my mom.

For a moment
Caburn was speechless. One minute she was fine, objective, and the next, she was contrary—taking it out on him. How could women be that way? He threw up his hands. “All right. I’ll go. I’ll call you later.”

On Wednesday afternoon
Dr Neal met Anna in the lobby of the hospital and they walked together to her tiny office. The small desk was free of clutter, but bookshelves that crowded two walls were filled with medical papers, books, and journals. A floor lamp gave off weak light, and the blinds were open to any gray light the overcast skies offered. Dr Neal’s nicely framed certificates and awards were not hung, but leaned haphazardly against books, as if they were often moved in order to reach the texts they hid.