Secrets 01 Secrets in the Attic (25 page)

My anger toward him shifted more toward Karen. All those times we shared our secrets, our sexual and romantic fantasies, she never revealed any of this.
"It's not so unusual for a guy my age to like a girl your age, Zipporah. There's nearly seven years' difference between Dad and Mom, you know."
"I don't care. You can run off and elope with her for all I care," I snapped back at him, and continued toward the house, walking quickly now. He ran to catch up.
"I'm not going to run off with her, but you have to feel sorry for her, for what's happened, don't you? We can't just throw her out now."
I spun on him again, this time so sharply he stopped and actually leaned back as if he expected me to swing at him.
"You know what, Jesse? I used to think you were so smart, miles above me, but Karen is right about one thing. All you boys want the same thing and don't care how foolish you look or act, as long as you get it. I'm glad I saw you two. I'm glad you're not my big hero anymore. I'm glad I have both my feet on the ground, and at this moment, I feel sorrier for you than I do for her or myself or anyone."
"Zipporah . .
"Just shut up," I said. "I'm going up to the attic. I don't want you to follow. You wait in your room until I come down," I ordered. I had never used such an authoritative tone with him, but I was thrust into the role of the more mature, more responsible of the two of us.
He nodded and didn't follow me to the house until I reached the front door. He started after me, and I entered. I half expected Karen to be waiting downstairs, but she wasn't there. I climbed the stairway and walked up to the attic door. She was standing by the window that faced the front of the house. She was wearing one of my skirts and blouses. I waited. I knew she knew I was there, but she wasn't turning around so quickly. Finally, she did and smiled
"Sorry about that," she said. "Always knock before entering a room, my mother says." She walked toward me, still smiling. "In her case, it mattered even more. She slipped men into the house. so quietly and easily. I used to think she pulled them in under the door. I'd be sitting there having breakfast the next morning, and some strange man would come into the kitchen, pour himself a cup of coffee, and smile at me. Half the time, they were in their briefs, and one guy even came in naked. I had to pretend it didn't bother me. I had to be cool, sophisticated. Sometimes my mother wouldn't even tell me their names or explain a thing. She would act as though it had been a dream of mine"
"Maybe it was," I said. "Maybe you're just giving me one lie after another."
"You're just mad right now. You shouldn't be." "You never told me he was writing to you and calling you. Why not?"
"Look at you. Look at how angry you are. That's why. I knew it would bother you. What's that joke I told you about the little boy who learned how he was made by his parents? Remember? He looked at them and said, 'My mother, never. My father, I believe."
She laughed and then turned serious, even angry- looking herself. "You put him on too high a pedestal, Zipporah. He's just like any other boy. Remember when I told you to read his journal? I was trying to get you to discover things, but you were too goody- goody about it. Not you, not Zipporah Stein read someone's secret journal, especially Mr. Perfect's journal."
"Shut up," I said.
"So you're going to blame me for everything? You're going to continue to keep him on some pedestal?"
I looked away and then glanced at our sofa. "Were you with him before this, too?"
"Once. I came to your house, and you were somewhere with your father. Your mother was at work, and Jesse was here. Look," she said, "if you were in my shoes, you would have done the same thing And don't try to be Miss Perfect yourself. You did go with Dana Martin that night, and it wasn't to talk about world events:'
"You wanted me to be with him just so I'd be like you. That's what you said. You meant all of it. This especially," I said.
She shrugged. "It's hard when your girlfriend is so pure, and you're not. It's better when you're both . . . complete," she said.
I sat on the sofa. "You should tell him the truth now," I told her. "You should tell him you were here already, and I was helping you. Why didn't you?"
"It was more important to me to protect you. Even now, even though I'm the one in the big mess, I was thinking first about you:' she said.
"It's not right. He should know it all."
"So we'll tell him, if you think that's best. He'll probably take it well and not blame you for anything He's not mean. He's actually a sweetheart," she said. She sat beside me and took my hand. "C'mon;
^,
don't blame anyone for this. It happened. It happens. Someday, something like it will happen to you, too. It's not healthy to feel guilty and dirty afterward, Zipporah. There's no reason to, anyway. My mother certainly doesn't," she added.
I was silent. So many emotions and
contradictory thoughts were entwining within me. I felt as if I might just start spinning like a top and never stop.
"Besides, it's better now that we have someone with Jesse's intelligence helping us. He'll find a solution, as long as you let him. If you pout and hate us both, I'll just leave, and that's that."
I almost said, "Just go." but then we heard Jesse call out. "Hey! Can I come up?"
Karen looked at me.
"Come up," I shouted back to him.
Karen squeezed my hand, and we both looked at the open attic doorway. Jesse stepped in meekly. I saw his right foot was bleeding.
"What happened to your foot?" Karen asked first. "I must have stepped on some glass or something out on the road. It looks worse than it is."
"Well, go wash it, stupid," she told him. "Yeah, I will. How are you two doing?"
"Just peachy keen," she said. "Will you go wash that? If you tracked blood up the stairs, you'd better wash that away as well."
"Right." He looked at me.
"Go ahead, Jesse," I said. "We'll come downstairs." He nodded and hopped out on one foot.
"Thanks," Karen said, and hugged me. I didn't hug her back. She didn't seem to notice. She was up and out the attic door, chasing after Jesse.
We joined him in the upstairs bathroom and watched him wash, disinfect, and bandage his foot.
"I told you to put on your shoes," Karen said.
Jesse nodded. "Don't worry about it. I'm fine. Let's not think about me now. Let's think about you. I'm going to try to find out if the police have questioned your mother and what she told them."
"How are you going to do that?" I asked him.
"I'll be at Dad's office tomorrow. He can make some calls. I'll get him to do it."
"How?" I pursued. He was no longer the miracle worker to me.
"I'll make him realize you feel alone out there with the story, and it's important you get some vindication, some support. Give me a chance. For now, just don't be happy about it."
"I look happy to you?"
"You know what I mean."
"What if they find out we're hiding her up in the attic, Jesse?"
"They won't if we're careful about it."
I looked at Karen. Was this the time to tell him the whole truth? She just held her soft smile, waiting to see what decision I would make I didn't come right out with the truth. Instead, I skirted it by saying, "Both of us are deceiving them now, Jesse."
He smiled. "They won't find out if we do everything correctly. Karen won't make a sound, and we'll make sure she has what she needs. It's not for long, anyway. So, why did you come home from school?"
"I didn't feel well," I said. I wasn't going to tell him the reason, not now.
"Are you all right?"
"No, but I'll manage," I said petulantly.
He nodded. "Okay, let's get some stuff together for Karen. Dad might be home before Mom today."
We went down to the kitchen and put together Karen's dinner and breakfast and filled water bottles. While Jesse and I did that, Karen picked out 'some things to read. My mother called after she had spoken to the nurse, and I told her I was all right, that it was just a little stomach upset.
"I'm even hungry again," I added, to relieve her from worry.
"Okay, then. It's probably because of the tension you're under. If anything changes, let me know. I'll call your father at the office."
While I spoke to my mother, Karen and Jesse carried everything upstairs. When I went up, I saw she was settled in the attic again, looking cool and unaffected by anything that had just occurred.
"Are you sure you'll be all right up here like this?" Jesse asked her anyway.
"Oh, yes." She looked at me. "Thank you," she said. She stepped up to us both and put her arms around me and Jesse, burying her head in his shoulder but holding us both tightly. "You're my only family now," she said when she stepped back.
"Don't worry," Jesse said. "We'll bring this to a head and get it right."
She smiled and, after glancing at me, leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. We turned and started out, looking back once to see her standing in the dwindling light of the sun sinking behind the trees on the west.
The shadows looked eager to swallow her and imprison her in their darkness once again. Despite it all, I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. I wanted to hate her, but my heart drove those feelings deep down and away.
"I love you, Zipporah," she whispered loudly enough for me to hear.
"I love you, too," I heard myself say. It was truly as if someone else within me was saying it.
I saw the look in Jesse's eyes. He really and truly did admire us for our close friendship. He had his share of buddies and good friends, but nothing compared to how Karen and I were. Maybe it was just a girl thing
I followed him out and closed the attic door. We descended the steps slowly, and at the base, he turned to me, looked up at the closed door, nodded, and said, "I have an idea. We're going someplace tonight after dinner."
"Where?"
"To the Bates Motel," he said. "You know where I mean?"
"Yes."
"Are you okay with it?"
"Yes," I said, but I was more frightened than I had ever been.

That night Jesse started on his plan to get Daddy to make the calls to the district attorney. He made a reference to it at dinner and presented it in such a way that it did look as if he was thinking only of me. Daddy agreed he was right. That plus my mother obviously telling him I had stomach problems because I was so nervous and tense these days made him promise to try. As I was helping Mama with the dishes, Jesse returned to the kitchen and asked if I wanted to go with him to a department store outside Monticello. He said it was open for another hour, at least. Because Monticello was the county seat and the biggest village, that was credible.

However, Mama shook her head and smiled at him skeptically. "You're just asking her to go so you can try to pry out the surprise we're expecting tomorrow," she told him

Jesse pretended that was the reason but added that he and I spent too little time together. I know my mother thought he was implying that he was going to talk to me about the Pearson tragedy and try to cheer me up.

"Your brother's right," she said. "Go ahead. I can finish here. There's not much left to do."
We hurried out to his car.
"That was close," Jesse said. "I thought she wasn't going to let you go."
"What exactly are we going to do, Jesse?" I asked as we backed out of the driveway.
"A little police work," he said. "Don't worry. We'll be extra careful."
I noticed he had a camera.
"What are we taking pictures of?"
"Not sure, but let's wait to see," he said cryptically.
The village was its characteristic sleepy self. There was nearly no traffic, and the only storefront light was from the bar and grill. Sparky was out in front, as usual, and raised his head when we paused at the blinker. The wind lifted some paper and made it dance on and off the walk until it settled on the street. Jesse shook his head at the empty streets and sidewalks.
"Reminds me of the movie
On the Beach,"
he said. "The end of the world."
"It feels like that tonight," I said. For some reason, I was whispering. It did seem to fit what we were doing and where I expected we were going.
He nodded, and we drove on. A little ways past Karen's mother's house, Jesse pulled to the side and parked. He turned off the engine arid the lights and just sat there quietly, gazing into the rearview mirror. For me, the silence was unnerving.
"Why are we doing this? What do you hope to accomplish, Jesse?" I asked.
"I could tell from the way Dad reacted, and I imagine the way the policemen you spoke to reacted, that the part of Karen's story involving Harry Pearson and his dead mother didn't fly," Jesse said. "My guess is they didn't even bother to check out that part, but we will."
"How?"
"C'mon," he said, grabbed his camera, and got out.
I followed, and we started back down Main Street, hovering close to the shadows along the sidewalk. Just before Karen's mother's house, Jesse stopped. There was a small light on in what I knew to be the living room, but other than that, the house was dark.
"Looks like no one's home," Jesse muttered. He paused and gazed around again.
"What are we doing?"
"Just follow me. Stay close," he said, and cut abruptly into Karen's mother's driveway. We walked quickly, still clinging to the cover of darkness and avoiding the illumination of the streetlights.
I followed him around the garage to where Karen had described the apartment Harry's mother had lived in until she passed away. Of course, it was pitch dark inside, and the window shades were drawn down.
"Does Karen know we're doing this?" I whispered.
"No," he said. "I started to mention it, and she became very agitated. She's very frightened she'll cause more trouble for us if we get caught here."
"She's right," I said.
"Shh."
He went to one of the windows and pressed on the frame.
"Seems like it was never opened, or it's locked." "Of course, it's locked," I said. "Why shouldn't it be locked? There are probably . . ."
He went to a second window and pushed, and this time, the window moved. He paused and looked at me, and then we both froze and listened. It sounded as if someone was coming down the sidewalk in front of the house. The footsteps quickened, slowed, and then disappeared as the person walked past and toward the center of the village.
"I'm going in," Jesse said. "You stay out here and watch for anyone. If you hear anything, just whisper, and I'll come out quickly. Okay?"
"I'm scared, Jesse."
"I'm not exactly free from fear, but this could go a long way to helping Karen," he said. Then he climbed in through the window.
If my heart beat any faster, I would surely faint on the spot, I thought. It beat so hard I could hear the thumping reverberate through my bones and fill my ears. It was so loud that I wouldn't be able to hear anything else. He was so quiet inside. I was suddenly even more worried.
"Jesse," I whispered, drawing closer to the open window. "Are you all right?"
"Quiet," he returned.
I waited in- anticipation of the camera flashing, but nothing happened. What was he doing? I could hear him moving around inside. Finally, he appeared in the dark opened window. I stepped back to watch him climb out.
"What are you doing? Did you take any pictures? What did you see?"
He didn't reply. "C'mon," he said, and walked quickly back the way we had come. I followed. He was walking with his shoulders hoisted as if he were trying to keep from getting a bad chill He turned abruptly onto the sidewalk, not even stopping to look back to see if I were right behind him. Then he started to cross the street, practically running. I did run to catch up. He got into the car, and I went around to get in on the passenger side.
He didn't start the engine. He just sat there, staring ahead.
"What is it, Jesse? What's going on? Why did you come out without taking any pictures?" I asked.
He turned to me slowly. "There's nothing to take pictures of," he said.
"What do you mean, nothing?"
"Not a bed, no furniture, nothing. In fact," he added, "the room's never been completed."
"Not completed?"
"The walls are studded, but they were never sheet- rocked. The wiring is hanging out. It's an unfinished room, Zipporah. No one could have lived in it."
"But Karen said . . ."
He stared at me a moment, and then he started the engine. "I know what she said."
"What does it mean?"
"I don't know. Maybe, maybe, her mother just had the place ripped apart to do something else with it."
"Why?"
"She didn't want to remember any of it. Of course, that would be something we could easily prove or disprove. Just check with the builder remodeling it, but I think it's highly unlikely." He shook his head. "Highly unlikely," he repeated.
We rode around aimlessly to pass time so our parents would believe we had gone to the department store. Jesse said he would claim it closed before we arrived.
"I don't understand this, Jesse. Karen and I were going to go in there," I told him.
"What do you mean?"
"Didn't she explain what our plan was originally?" He slowed down. "No, tell me."
I described it and told him how she said she wore Harry's mother's wig, made up her face to resemble the way his mother did hers, and wore one of her dresses.
"And she confronted him that way?"
"Yes. He came to her room when her mother was away, and that's how she wanted to greet him. She said she expected him to come, and she was trying to get him to stop."
"What about the wig, the dress?"
"She left it behind afterward," I said.
"That's great. The police would have found it there. Listen--" he said.
"But how can you explain the room, the apartment she said was there? She even told me she had slept there recently.
"I don't know just yet. Let's not say anything to her about this for now. I don't want to see her frightened or unnerved in any way at the moment. She's walking on hot coals as it is. Dad will get me the information about what the police did and didn't find."
"How will you get him to ask for that sort of detail?"
"Leave it to me," he said. "Dad and I have a good relationship, Zipporah. Sometimes we're more like brothers."
"Not if he finds out who's in the attic," I muttered. "He won't," Jesse said confidently, but to me, it sounded more like a prayer.
He was silent now, and I settled back in my seat, feeling numb. Suddenly, he slowed down, stopped, and pulled to the side of the road.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"I just realized something How did you know all that about the actual incident and what she left behind? You spoke to Karen afterward? Did she call you?"
Lies give birth to lies, I thought, which have a way of leading you to the edge of a cliff. After you fall, the only parachute available is honesty.
"Yes," I said.
"When?"
"When she came to the house."
"I don't understand. You mean just now?"
"No, Jesse. Karen didn't tell you the truth. I've been hiding her in the attic all this time."
"What? You've been hiding her? But what about her trip to New York?"
"She never went to New York," I said, and described how she had prepared the tape recorder and I had made the call from a pay phone.
"But . . . why didn't she tell me the truth, tell me she was already there in our house for some time?"
"When I asked her that, she told me she was protecting me."
"OW" he said. "Yes, I suppose that makes sense." "Does it?"
"Sure. You're her best friend. Look at all you did for her. Why shouldn't she think of you, of protecting you?"
"There's more she didn't tell you, Jesse," I said. I couldn't hold back anything now.
"What more?"
"One day, she found your journal, and she read it. She wanted me to read it, but I wouldn't."
He was silent. I couldn't see his face well in the darkness, but I felt his confusion, his disappointment, even his embarrassment.
"Well," he finally said, "I'm sure she was bored sick. I probably would have done the same thing. I never noticed it had been taken," he said, sitting back again. "It was childish to keep a journal like that."
"There's no reason to find fault with yourself because of what she did, Jesse. That's stupid."
"Yeah, I know. I'm not blaming myself. It'll be all right. Somehow we'll bring it to a good end," he said. He sounded as if he were talking to himself now.
We drove the rest of the way home in silence, each of us trapped within our own terrors and fears and perhaps more bonded as brother and sister than we had ever been.
Mama quickly accepted Jesse's excuse for not having bought anything. She still believed his principal purpose was to have a heart-to-heart talk with me. We didn't linger. We both went up to our Booms. I saw he was still a little shaky from hearing the truth.
"Don't go up there tonight, Jesse. Those stairs make so much noise under you. I was surprised Mama and Daddy didn't hear you the other night."
He looked surprised that I knew, and a little guilty as well.
"Right," he said.
We both glanced at the closed attic door before retiring for the night.
I was determined to be stronger the next day and do well in school, so I wouldn't attract any more attention to myself. Jesse volunteered to take me to school on his way to Daddy's office. I knew he wanted the opportunity for us to talk again.
"I've given it all a great deal more thought," he began. "If I can, I'll come by for you at the end of the day. I think the two of us should meet with Karen to tell her what we found out last night and what I find out from Dad."
"What if you don't find anything out from Daddy?" I asked.
"We'll worry about that later. Just be sure to wait for me before you say anything about last night."
"I'm going to tell her I told you everything," I said. "She should know."
"That's fine," he said. "You can explain that I'm not angry. No sense in worrying her about it."
"Maybe she should be worrying a little more," I replied.
"Take it easy," Jesse said. "Don't condemn her yet."
Was he saying that because he had become her lover or because he wanted to be fair?
"Whatever," I said.
We drove into the school parking lot. He saw the way I was looking at the school, contemplating all I had to face inside.
"I know it's hard for you, Zipper, but try to think of other things. Dive into your schoolwork. That will help."
"Right," I said, and got out of his car. It was easy for him to say.
"I'll try to be back in time," he called.
I lifted my hand without turning back and kept walking toward the building entrance.
As it turned out, I had forgotten completely about the delivery of the sports car. Jesse had no idea why, but Daddy had arranged for both of them to cut the work day short. I had done what Jesse had suggested and concentrated hard on my classes, my lessons, and homework. It worked. I didn't feel under the microscope as much and the day passed quickly for me. Dana Martin left me alone as well, probably because of my dramatic reaction to him yesterday in the cafeteria.
I really didn't have high hopes for Jesse to be there when the final bell rang, but there he was, waiting in the parking lot. I hurried to his car, and he explained that Daddy had sprung him.
"And himself. Something's cooking," he said. I reminded him about a surprise.
"So what is it?"
"I won't disappoint Daddy," I said, and thought to myself how hollow that sounded now. I wouldn't disappoint him with something like this, but I would disappoint him deeply with what Jesse and I were doing with Karen. "What did you learn?"
"Nothing yet. Dad was waiting for a return call. He might have gotten it before he left. I left first. I didn't want to pressure him too much about it. That could raise some suspicions."
Somehow, in my heart of hearts, I felt that suspicions had been swimming just under the surface of Daddy's thoughts from day one of all this. Jesse looked more troubled and worried to me as well.
However, when we drove up, Daddy was already home and standing next to the convertible, his face beaming.
"Holy cow!" Jesse cried. He pulled up beside it quickly and jumped out of his car.
Daddy started laughing.
"When did you get this?"
"A little while ago," Daddy replied. "It's going to become Zipporah's car eventually."
"Zipporah's car?"
"But if you're nice to her, I'm sure she'll let you use it from time to time. Should we let him take a ride in it now, Zipporah?"
"Sure," I said.
"How did she rate something like this?"
"Play your cards right, and we'll look into a trade-in for you, too," Daddy said. "Go on. Take her for a short spin, but don't dare speed on these roads."
Jesse walked around the car, his hands gliding over the sides and hood, as if he believed it could react to his appreciation. His eyes lit up with excitement.
"Girls and cars," Daddy told me. "The formula for male ecstasy."
"Get in," Jesse cried.
I did, and we drove off with Daddy standing there still beaming after us. Jesse didn't drive fast, but it felt fast with the wind blowing through my hair. It was a beautiful car, and for a few precious minutes, we both forgot all our troubles.
"He's a good guy," Jesse said, slowing down to cruise for a while. "We don't deserve him."
More than ever, I believed that now, but all that did was make me sadder. Daddy had gone into the house before we returned. He stepped out again when we drove in.
"Well?"
"I got a feeling you bought this for yourself, Dad," Jesse teased.
"Your mother accused me of the same thing, but someone has to break it in. We'll do it together this summer," he added. "Come on in. I want to talk to you both." It had an ominous ring to it Jesse glanced at me, and we followed Daddy into the house and into the living room. He sat in his chair.