No Safe Secret (9 page)

“Stop right now! He's your father, and Holden and Graham are your brothers.” Molly couldn't let Tanner's and the twins' actions ruin her daughter's relationship with them.

“Mother,” she whispered, though the word was harsh. “Don't you realize they've done nothing but bully and batter you your entire life? I don't like them, and I don't care if he's my father, and those creeps are, thankfully, only my half brothers. Holden is a total asshole. If you only knew some of the dirty little secrets he's kept from you, you wouldn't be so quick to defend him.”

Molly took a deep breath and touched her cheek. She knew it was still red, as it continued to burn, but she had to put this aside, at least for a while longer. They had guests downstairs, and she needed to take care of them. “I need to dismiss the dinner guests. As soon as they're gone, we'll talk. I promise.”

“Really, Mom? ‘Dismiss'? That's so screwed up,” Kristen stated in a none-too-kindly voice.

“Yes, it is, I know, but as soon as they're gone, we'll talk. Now, go to your room and wait for me,” she said, offering up a halfhearted smile. Three steps down, she stopped, and looked up at Kristen, who was still rooted to the stairs. As quietly as possible, she said, “Lock your door.”

M
olly was greeted with ten pairs of curious eyes when she returned downstairs. Dr. Marsden was the first to speak.

“Is everything all right up there?” He nodded toward the staircase.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded in return. “Uh, yes. Holden seems to have had a bad fall. He's in a bit of pain, but Tanner is with him. I'm sure he'll be fine.”

Molly could hear the lie in her voice but didn't really care. A million thoughts danced through her head, yet she couldn't focus on them now. She had to do as Tanner said. For now. Their guests had to leave. But how to ask them without offending them? That would be another mark against her in Tanner's mind.

Before she had another chance to speak, from the top of the stairs, Tanner's booming voice shattered the silence. “We need to get Holden to the hospital.”

“Then it's worse than I thought. I'm sorry, if you all don't mind letting yourselves out?” she said, knowing that Tanner had no intention of taking Holden to the hospital. This was his way of showing her who held all the power. Just this once, she was actually glad.

Dr. Marsden stood. “If you're sure, then we should leave. Have Tanner call me when he's available. There is something he and I need to discuss.” His dark eyes scanned her. Something about Dr. Marsden bothered her, but now wasn't the time to dwell on the matter.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “We will do this another time.” She walked over to stand by the front door. She felt like one of those doormen who guard the upscale apartments in New York City.

“You will let us know the outcome?” said Megyn O'Leary.

Molly was reminded of the movie she and Tanner had watched a few nights ago. He'd been too tired to see it to its end and had said something to the same effect.

“Yes, I'll make sure of it. Now, if we could get Holden to the hospital.” She let the words hang in the air. One by one, the doctors and their wives, and one fiancée, Liz, who trailed behind Dr. Wolf, took their belongings and left. When Molly finally closed the door, she leaned against it, needing a minute to prepare herself for what was sure to be a knock-down-drag-out all-nighter.

“Get up here!” shouted Tanner from the top of the stairs.

Like the obedient wife she was, Molly raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Rooted in his position, Tanner hardly moved a muscle when he grabbed her elbow, squeezing so hard Molly was sure he would break it. She was about to scream when he let go. She let out a fearful breath but didn't say a word.

He pushed her toward the door to the master suite. “Stay put,” he demanded.

Praying that Kristen had her earbuds in with her music blasting, she focused on her steps. One. Two. Three. She mentally prepared to escape to her safe place because she knew all hell was about to break loose. Drawing in a deep breath, she closed her eyes, giving in to the mental image. Sounds of waves crashing against a sandy shore, the warmth of the sun as it glistened in an azure summer sky. Puffy white clouds one could bounce on. The cool rush of the ocean teasing her toes as she lay on the warm, sugary sand. The moment the image began to soothe her, Tanner crashed through the door, slamming it against the wall so loudly that it caused her to jump.

His eyes were bulging, and sweat was beaded on his forehead and above his lip. He walked toward the king-size bed, where she sat like a little girl waiting to be punished. She looked down, as she couldn't look at him when he was like this. With his index finger, he jabbed beneath her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

“Is Holden all right or did you have to call 911?” she asked.

“He's feeling a little better and will be okay,” Tanner replied. “I need an answer, Molly. Okay? I want a clear, concise answer from you. Do you understand?”

She nodded that she did.

“What?” he shouted. “Did you not hear what I just said?”

“Yes,” she replied in a soft tone. “I couldn't help but hear you, Tanner.” She wanted to add that Kristen, even with her earbuds playing loud music, probably heard him as well.

“Are you trying to be cute with me, Molly?” he asked, his voice hardened, dripping with sarcasm.

“No,” she said. After almost twenty years of marriage, she knew that the less she said, the better it would be for her.
How pathetic was that?
she thought. If she were a very good girl, she would only be punished a little bit. But if she were bad, even just a little bit, she knew what would happen. And it was never pretty, though to Tanner's credit, he hadn't actually hurt her in a very long time. Bastard.

Tanner stormed across the room, then back to the edge of the bed. “Do you realize what your lack of parental skills cost me tonight?” He leaned so close, the sweat from his upper lip dripped onto the tip of her nose.

“No, Tanner, but please tell me. I know you want to.” If he planned to knock her around, she might as well make it worthwhile. She looked into his eyes. All she saw were two cold balls of steel-blue ice. Whatever humanity had ever existed in him before was nowhere to be found now.

He took a deep breath, then stepped away from where she sat on the bed. Molly gave up a silent thank-you as she watched him pace their room. He raked his perfectly formed fingers through his hair, a sign, she knew, that he was thinking. The thought had no more skirted around in her brain than, before she knew it, he was standing in front of her with his right hand raised above his shoulder. Before she could beg him not to, and for the second time that night, he backhanded her hard on the same cheek that still stung from the previous blow.

“Tanner,” she cried out in a whisper, placing her hand on her burning cheek. “Stop it! Kristen can hear us.” She hated using her daughter like this, but it had worked in the past. Tanner adored Kristen—most of the time, as long as she did as she was told. Sadly, the adoration was not reciprocated, not in the least. Tonight Molly had learned just how much her daughter loathed her own father.

“I don't give a good rat's ass who hears me! You got that, woman?” he sneered at her.

She hated it when he spoke to her this way as she knew what was coming next. He rarely deviated from his established pattern.

Molly nodded because she knew he expected her to. Just one more time, she thought to herself. One. More. Time.

“If I hadn't taken you away from Lou's, that shit-hole diner you loved so much, you'd still be slinging hash to us Harvardians. You're stupid, Molly. You know that, right?” He stopped criticizing her as he waited for her to answer.

She nodded.

“I can't hear you, Molly. What was that?” he persisted.

“I'm stupid,” she whispered. Tears filled her eyes, and she tried her best not to let them fall, but they did anyway. She hated weakness of any kind. And right now, she hated herself for being too cowardly to stand up to Tanner. She told herself it was better this way. The kids were home. Tanner's abusiveness usually took a backseat when Kristen and the twins were around. Briefly, she wondered what recent event had caused him to change his habits.

“Say it like you mean it,” he ordered, only this time he placed his hand on the lower half of her face and yanked her head upward so that she had no choice but to look at him standing in front of her.

Her mind was all over the place. Her past. Her present. Her future. Was this it? A life no better than the one she'd left behind so many years ago. The only difference this time around was that she had every material item a woman could want. A beautiful home. A daughter who was not only beautiful but smart and kind. She had designer clothes, purses that cost more than some people made in a month. Shoes that reeked of money. Shoes she rarely wore. A home that was envied by many. Things didn't matter to her, they never had. Had she simply traded one nightmare for another?

Another sharp slap to her face brought her back to her harsh reality.

Tears fell freely now, and she didn't care. She just wanted this to be over with. She prayed that just this once Kristen had her iPod's volume turned to the highest setting possible. To be caught by her daughter would be humiliating. She would never forgive herself. So with that thought in mind, she used the hem of her black dress to wipe her eyes; not caring that the dress cost four thousand dollars, she hiked it up even farther so she could blow her nose.

Tanner had released his grip when he slapped her. Now, he reached behind her and grabbed a fistful of hair, yanking her head back so hard she thought her neck would snap. “I can do this all night,
Molly.
” He said her name as though it were filth. “The question is, can you?”

If she had had a weapon, she would have used it on him now, but since she didn't, the only way out of this sick situation, albeit temporarily, was to give him what he wanted.

In a clear voice, loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough for anyone listening to hear, she said, “I am stupid.”

He released his death grip on her hair, only to place his hand around her neck. Sweat dribbled down his face, and Molly prayed he would keel over and die of a heart attack or an aneurysm. Something quick and immediate, with no hope of saving his life. Or even better, have a stroke that left him totally paralyzed for the rest of his life. At which point, she could put him away somewhere and leave him. She closed her eyes and prayed. Him or her. This could not continue. Her life was out of control. It had always been out of control, from the moment she laid eyes on Tanner all those years ago.

Had she known the path marrying him would lead her down, she might have returned to Blossom City and taken her chances.

 

 

F
or the first time in eighteen years, Molly had her very own Christmas tree. After saving every penny she could, she and Sarah, now roommates, found an apartment they could afford, and they shared the expenses. Molly had been giddy with excitement ever since they'd moved out of Mrs. Garner's.

Sarah was only a year older and also came from a bad situation; at least that's the way she referred to it, though she'd never told Molly too much about her past other than it had been a nightmare. Understanding the need to keep the past in the past, Molly hadn't bothered to question Sarah, and it was because of this that they'd become so close in such a short time. And now they were sharing their very first Christmas together, just two young women on their own.

Sarah worked for a professor at Harvard and made a decent salary. Like Molly, she, too, wanted a place of her own, and they'd often spoke of this during their time at Mrs. Garner's. Together, they'd found this little hole-in-the-wall basement apartment that was conveniently located close to Lou's Diner and the university. It wasn't much, but to Molly it was home.

When she learned of Molly's move, Teresa gave the young women an old sofa. Molly was fairly handy with a needle and thread. On her day off, she'd taken the bus to Fabric World, where she'd purchased enough material to make a giant, soft, beige-colored slipcover for the sofa. Sarah purchased throw pillows in a rainbow of colors to brighten it up, and both had spent an entire night sanding and refinishing the hard-maple coffee table Teresa had thrown in with the sofa. Little by little, they were making the basement apartment their home.

Molly took a few steps back to examine the small tree. She'd splurged on a string of lights that were supposed to look as though they were actual candles. When they were heated by the small bulb, the ginger-colored liquid inside bubbled and the tip flickered like a candle. She'd seen them before in stores, but she'd never had the money to purchase her own set of bubble lights. Not a big deal for most, but to her, this expenditure was extravagant in the extreme.

Last night they'd spent the evening making Christmas ornaments out of flour and water. They used Christmas cookie cutters Molly borrowed from Lou's. Tonight they would paint them, then hang them on the tree when the paint dried. Molly thought the tree the most perfect ever with just the bubble lights, but she didn't tell Sarah this. She hadn't told Sarah that her family never had a Christmas tree. No, she could never reveal her true identity, not to Sarah, Teresa, Lou, or anyone else. She was Molly Hall. Maddy Carmichael had disappeared the night of her high-school senior prom, and if Molly Hall could help it, she would never return.

Molly heard Sarah's heels click-clack as she made her way down the steep flight of steps. She opened the door for her, knowing that her hands would be full with the paint supplies she'd borrowed from one of the art students she was friendly with.

“Let me help you,” Molly said, taking two huge brown bags from Sarah. “What's in here?” Molly asked before she peered inside the bag. She saw small metal cans with a splash of color painted on each lid, paintbrushes, and several packets of notebook paper.

Sarah put the third bag down, closing the door behind her. She brushed her dark-brown curls away from her face. “This is dinner. It smells divine. I am so stinking hungry, I could eat an entire ham.” She gave Molly a sheepish grin. Sarah Berkovitz was Jewish but in name only; she had explained this to Molly one night at Mrs. Garner's. When Molly questioned her, she learned that Sarah knew hardly anything about the Jewish faith.

They had this lack of knowledge of their religious backgrounds in common also, as Molly didn't always understand many of the things Pastor Royer preached. She and Sarah were just young women down on their luck, like a million others. In the past, Molly always agreed with Sarah when she would say that, and she still did. The past was history, and neither of them cared to relive it, much less to reveal their secrets.

“Then let's eat, so we can paint these.” She waved her arm at the small kitchen table covered in homemade ornaments.

“Okay, let me change.” Sarah disappeared into their shared bedroom while Molly removed the contents from the bag. She'd never smelled anything so delicious.

An aluminum pan covered with foil and a Tupperware container contained a giant lasagna and a green salad. Inside a small brown bag were hot rolls, steaming with butter and garlic.

Sarah returned while Molly fixed plates for them.

“Who made this?” Molly asked. She knew what lasagna was, but she'd never had it before.

“Professor Whitton's wife, Ellen. He told me she thinks I need a little ‘meat on my bones,' ” Sarah said, as they took their plates a few steps into the small living area.

“She's right; you could use a few pounds,” Molly said.

Sarah scanned her. “Yeah, well, it wouldn't hurt you to gain a few yourself.”

They used the newly refinished coffee table as their dining surface since their kitchen table was covered with baked ornaments. They'd found twin beds for the small bedroom at a secondhand furniture store. The few articles of clothing they owned were stored in plastic bins at the foot of their beds. At the very bottom of Molly's container, now stored in a large brown bag, was the dress that reminded her of the worst night of her life. Soon she had to find a way to destroy it. When the holidays were over, maybe.

“After this meal, I'm sure to gain a pound or two,” Molly said between bites. “I don't think I've ever had anything this tasty.” She thought back to the nights in the trailer when she'd calmed her hunger pangs by gulping water from the bathroom sink.

Sarah just nodded, and they both finished their dinner in silence.

“I'll wash tonight,” Molly said, taking Sarah's plate.

“Okay. I'll get the paints ready.”

“This is so much fun,” Molly said as she washed their plates and cutlery.

“You think washing dishes is fun?” Sarah asked. “There must've been something funky in that lasagna.”

Molly laughed. “I don't mind washing dishes, but that's not what I was referring to. I was talking about painting and decorating the tree.”

Sarah laughed. “It is fun. When I was a kid, I used to make ornaments with my grandma. I made the worst mess, but she never scolded me or hit me,” Sarah explained, then went on wistfully. “Those were the best days of my life. I miss Grandma so much sometimes, it hurts to even think about her.”

Molly nodded, hoping she would continue with stories about her grandma. She craved stories of happy families, of how they interacted. She'd had no real experience with families and values. Lenore, her mother, was so mean and cruel. Now that she'd been away from Blossom Hill for six months, she'd started questioning so many things in her life or the lack thereof. Mostly, she wondered who she'd injured or possibly killed the night she'd raced out of town.

When she thought about that night, she was horrified by what she had done, even though she herself had been a victim. There was no one to call and ask what had happened, no one she could trust. Well, there was Brett Lynch, but she wouldn't dare put him in a position that might possibly force him to lie for her. Because she knew that he would do whatever it took to protect her. He was probably out of his mind with worry. She'd been gone for six months, and as far as she knew, no one had come looking for her. She should have called Brett and told him what had happened. She didn't have to admit to anything more than running away. Even if one or more of those sick SOBs had been maimed or killed, Brett wouldn't know that it was she who was driving the car.

But then she realized that if that group of perverts survived, of course Brett would know she was responsible. She was the only seventeen-year-old girl in Blossom City with a rusty-red Mustang. She needed to either rid herself of that car or have it painted. Lucky for her, their apartment included an enclosed parking space, a rarity in Boston.

Drying the last dinner plate, she stacked it in the dish drainer. Sarah had placed several sheets of notebook paper under the ornaments. “I wondered why you had all that paper,” Molly said.

“It was on sale for ten cents a pack. We don't have any newspapers, so I figured this would work just as well.”

Sarah, all five-foot-nothing, had changed into a pair of faded Levi's and a burgundy-and-gray T-shirt with HARVARD in big block letters emblazoned across the front. With Sarah's dark, curly hair and whiskey-colored eyes, Molly was surprised when she learned that Sarah didn't have a boyfriend and wasn't interested. For a while she wondered if Sarah was gay, as she never went out on dates, but one night a few weeks ago, they'd had one of their late-night chats.

Sarah told her she wanted to be an attorney and start a career before she married and had a family of her own. Working as Professor Whitton's assistant, she was able to take one course per semester for free. She had to purchase her own books, but she was okay with that. She saved like a miser and told Molly her goal was to pay her own way through Harvard. Molly believed her, too. She was bright and full of ambition. Molly wished she had more of her confidence.

When they'd first met, Molly thought Sarah was extremely shy. And she was, until Molly got to know her. She was a great friend and roommate. She didn't ask questions about Molly's family or her past, and for this Molly was extremely grateful.

“Where should we start?” Sarah asked.

Their little dinette set was neatly arranged with cans of paint and brushes. Sarah had also thought to bring paper clips to insert through the little holes they'd poked through the dough before baking them so that they would be able to use the clips as hooks for hanging the ornaments on the tree.

For the next hour, they painted Christmas trees, bells, stars, Santas, and little gingerbread men. When the ornaments were dry, they placed them on the tree.

“I think this is the prettiest tree ever,” Sarah said, with an ear-to-ear grin plastered across her face.

“It is, isn't it?” Molly agreed.

For a few minutes, both girls stared at the fragrant little tree all lit up, each lost in her own thoughts.

“I love it and could sit here and stare all night, but I'm on the morning shift, so I need to get some sleep,” Molly said, wistfully.

“Me too,” Sarah agreed. “I'll put the paints away. You can have the bathroom first tonight.”

Molly grinned. Though they were cramped, she loved having a place of her own and enjoyed Sarah's friendship.

Could it get any better than this?

 

Four o'clock in the morning came early, but Molly was used to getting up at the crack of dawn. She'd been an early riser most of her life. In Blossom City, she'd had to wake up early to study and clean the messes that Marcus and his thug pals made after a night of partying. Just the thought of Marcus and his friends made her sick.

She brushed her long blond hair, then tied it up in a ponytail. Her uniform was clean and ironed. She was grateful the basement apartment also had laundry facilities, where the residents could wash and dry their clothes for a dollar per load. She slipped into the work shoes she'd purchased at Sharp's last month and quietly made her way out the door.

The December air was bitter cold. She crammed her hands in her pockets and pulled her beanie down low to cover her ears. She found three others waiting at the bus stop, each bundled up in heavy winter coats, scarfs wrapped securely around their necks, leaving nothing exposed to the frigid air. She didn't have a heavy coat, just the light jacket Sarah had given her. She would look for one in the thrift shops as soon as she could.

At exactly 5:09
A.M.
, the Massachusetts Bay Transportation Authority bus stopped with a gush of exhaust fumes in its wake, the winding gears and brakes grinding as it came to a full stop. Molly dropped her coins in the slot and sat directly behind the bus driver.

It was a short ride to the diner, and in better weather, she preferred to walk, but it was too cold, and she couldn't risk getting sick. Eight minutes later, she stepped off the bus and hurried inside the diner through the back entrance. She was greeted by the smell of fresh coffee and frying bacon.

“Hey, girl, you look like you could use a cup of this,” Teresa said, and handed her a mug of coffee when she entered the break room. Since Molly had started working at Lou's, Teresa had become a surrogate mother of sorts. Molly thought she was hysterically funny and enjoyed working with her.

“Thanks. It's colder than a well digger's you know what out there,” Molly said, gratefully taking the mug of steaming coffee from her.

“Listen, kid, that coat you's got ain't gonna get you through a Boston winter. Now don't take offense, but I went through my closet last night and found this.” She pointed to a large white plastic garbage bag on the beat-up sofa the employees used when they needed a quick break.

Teresa removed a full-length black wool coat out of the bag and handed it to her. “Think this should fit. C'mere, kid, let's try it on.”

Molly was so touched she felt tears in her eyes. “You didn't have to do this,” she said, while Teresa held the coat out for her to try on.

“Nope, you're right, I didn't. Frankly, I need the room in the closet. I still got stuff from my high-school days in there, and I ain't gonna say how long ago that was.”

Molly slid her arms into the warm wool coat and shivered, not because she was cold but because it felt so good against her skin. “Are you sure? This looks expensive.”