off on me? Was I turning into a dreamer? What if I
was? Anything was better than what I had been, I
thought. This was like being born again and there was
no turning back now, never.
Geraldine could rise from the grave; she could
haunt this house; she could turn shadows into shapes
and hiss her displeasure from the darkest corners. She
could glare at me from behind my eyes, from my
deepest, darkest memories, but she wouldn't turn me
around. You always wanted doors to be shut,
Geraldine, I thought. Well, this time, I'm slamming
them shut on you.
Maybe it was the vodka talking, but I felt brave
and strong. I drank another and I sang along with the
girls whenever they burst into song. We ate
everything in sight and then collapsed on the sofas and in the chairs, laughing at our appetites, not caring about the loudness of the music or the noise we made It felt so good to do it, to have the freedom, but I couldn't help gazing up at the doorway and thinking about Geraldine. It was just habit. She wasn't gone
long enough for me to not feel afraid.
"What are you looking so worried about?" Jade
cried at me. "Stop looking behind your shoulder. She's
gone. She's a potted plant!" she declared, laughing.
Her eyes were glazed. "I ruined an expensive outfit
helping to plant her," she added, the vodka definitely
speaking now.
Star immediately sprung up, her finger pointed. "You did it," she accused. "You spoke the
unspeakable and you are fined."
"What?"
"Am I right?" Star asked us. "We made the rule
in the car. We all voted, right?"
Misty looked timid, but nodded.
"She's right, Jade."
"So, what am I supposed to do now?" Jade shot
back at Star. "Go to my room?"
Star straightened up and smiled.
"You clean up, girl. That's your punishment,"
she said.
Jade's mouth dropped open. She looked at me
and then at Misty. Neither of us would dare contradict
Star.
"Fine," Jade said, rising and sobering quickly.
She wiped her cheeks as if to wake up her face and
then she headed out to the kitchen. We watched her
saunter along mumbling about washing dishes and
ruining her brand- new manicure.
"We'll bring her down to earth yet," Star
declared with a smirk. "We'll bring her right down to
earth with the rest of us."
Misty called home to tell her mother she was
going to spend the night with me, but her mother had
still not re- turned from the movies.
"She must have gone someplace afterward with
her friend," she said. "I just left a message with her
answering service. It's actually easier this way. Half
the time, we talk to each other through that answering
service anyway. I'd feel strange not having it between
us." She looked around and then turned to me. "Where
will I sleep?" Before I could suggest anything, she
declared, "Not in your half sister's room!'
"I'll sleep on the sofa and you can sleep in my
room," I said. Her eyes darkened with thought. She
glanced up the stairway and shook her head. "No, it's not fair to take your bed. I'll sleep on
the sofa."
"You're just afraid to sleep upstairs," Jade said,
laughing. "Well, it's all right for you to sound so
brave. You're not sleeping here tonight. I am." "It would be easier for Cat to avoid going up
the stairs," Star said. "Didn't we tell her that?" she
reminded Misty with an impish smile.
Misty looked trapped.
"We can both sleep in my bed," I said. "It's big
enough, if that's all right with you."
"Yes," she said quickly, seizing the suggestion.
"Of course it's big enough and it'll be more fun. We'll
test out your new bedding and hang your curtains,
too."
Jade and Star looked at each other and laughed. "Well, we'll both feel better," Misty added,
nodding. "Tomorrow, we should do something with
your half sister's room, like rip it apart and start over
again. We'll get every trace of her out of there just the
house after they separated. And we'll paint it, too, a
color she hated."
"That's just about everything but white,:' I said. "All right," Jade said, growing serious. "Do
what you want, you two. I've called for the limousine
to pick up Star and me and take us home tonight. It'll
be here any minute. In the morning we'll meet here
and start thinking about planning our first party and
stuff," she said.
"Don't forget, Cat, you're coming to my house
for dinner tomorrow night and you're staying with
me," Star told me. "We don't have to worry about
ghosts there," she said, teasing Misty.
"There's no ghost here. Stop it," Misty moaned.
Star and Jade laughed.
When the limousine arrived, Misty and I
watched them leave. Misty looked like she wished she
was leaving with them.
"You really don't have to stay with me," I told
her. "I was all right last night. I'll be all right tonight." "We decided and that's it," she insisted. "I'll be
fine and so will you. We can talk and talk until we
pass out," she said. "We'll be fine."
"I'm afraid I don't have anything really nice for
you to sleep in," I said. "Just cotton pajamas." "That'll do, although I'll probably look like I'm
floating in them. I don't know why I don't grow," she
complained. "I think my hormones went on vacation
right after I turned twelve."
"You're perfect," I said, laughing. "You're ..." "Don't you dare say 'cute,'" she warned me, her
right forefinger jabbing the air.
"Petite," I risked. She turned over the word in
her mind, smirked and sighed.
"I guess I'll look twenty years younger than I
am for the rest of my life. My mother says that's a
blessing I'll first realize the day I turn thirty. But until
then," she said, "it's a curse. C'mon. Let's go hang the
curtains."
We turned off the lights and started up the
stairs.
"Maybe you'll read me one of your mother's
letters afterward," she said. "Unless you think they're
just too personal."
"I don't know what they are," I replied. Then
after thinking a moment, I added, "After the things we
told each other at Doctor Marlowe's and after what
we've pledged to each other, nothing's too personal
anymore, anyway."
She paused and looked at me on the stairs. "That's how I feel," she said, "only it's nice to
hear you say it. It's nice to know you believe it." "I do," I said.
She looked emboldened and happy, and began
charging the rest of the way up the stairs with no hint
of fear or trepidation in her stride.
"Well, if Geraldine's ghost is in this house, we'll
throw her out," she vowed, and continued up to my
room.
I watched her climb the stairs and realized that
this was the first time ever I had
had a friend sleep
over. Geraldine never approved of the idea, nor did
she approve of my sleeping over at someone else's
house. She might certainly wake up from the dead to
haunt us tonight. But let her, let her come. We're
ready for her, I thought.
I hoped.
After we hung the curtains and changed the
bedding and we were both snugly under my blanket, I
reached for the pile of letters and pulled out the next
one. Carefully, I unfolded it. The paper was so fragile
and crisp from age that I had to be gentle. It would
take only the smallest amount of pressure for it to tear. "Dear Cathy," I read aloud.
"I assume by now you have read my first letter I
do hope you will have read all of them before we get a
chance to talk privately. Of course, I will want to
answer all your questions. I know you will have many.
I would if I were you.
"I imagine the first question that comes to mind
is why I went ahead with the birth. The moment I set
eyes on you, of course, I was happy I had. I can't
imagine a world without you in it now"
"That's nice," Misty piped up. "Remember
when I first began in the group therapy session and I
jokingly said my parents tried to give me back, but it
was too late? I have no doubt that if they had a chance
now to have a child all over again, they wouldn't. At
least she wanted you even after you were born," Misty
pointed out.
I nodded and returned to the letter.
"Relationships between men and women are
very complicated, Cathy. I know this is some- thing
you will learn for yourself I only hope I might still be
around to help you get through some of the more
difficult times. I'm not sure Geraldine is equipped for
the kinds of crises a young girl might experience." "Boy, was she right about that!" Misty cried. "As I said in my first letter, my parents, especially my mother, really believed I would learn to love
Franklin, but love has to come from a deeper place, a
place other than your brain. You don't study someone
and memorize his every mannerism and his habits so
that you can please him and call that love.
"Whether we like to admit it to ourselves and
others or not, we women need real passion and
affection in our lives. We like to feel good, to be petted
and fussed over It's nice to see a man's face light up
when you enter a room. It's heart- warming to see he
is willing to show you how much he does love you.
Unfortunately, Franklin was never capable of that. He
is a good man, a moral man, a considerate man, but
he's not a passionate man. Maybe it was wrong for me
to let my eyes wander; to let my heart have a louder
voice than my conscience and my brain, but I did. "Sometimes, I let myself believe Franklin knew
what I was doing. It helped me to think that he did, to
imagine that he even condoned it because he
recognized that my lover provided something for me
that he could never provide. I told myself Franklin
just wants me to be happy and he is willing to look the
other way if that means be happy. Perhaps it was only
foolish hope on as I have said, a way of rationalizing
my infidelity, but I let myself believe it.
"I want you to learn from this how important it
is to give yourself to a man you can truly love and
who can truly love you in all respects. Settling for
anything less will lead to lifelong unhappiness, deep frustration, and eventually disaster in one form or
another. Just look at me as an example.
"I was so reckless about my affair that I didn't
take the proper precautions. I think now that deep in
my heart I didn't want to. Yes, as horrible or as
shocking as that may sound to you, I wanted my
lover's child growing in my womb. Maybe it was my
way of confessing and if you are a really moral
person, even if you can get away with a sin, you will
have a great need to confess it. Eventually, you must.
Remember that, Cathy. Never fool yourself into
believing you can escape your own conscience. It's a
voice that dies only when you die, and you will hear it
in your sleep as long as you live."
I paused because my throat had tightened, and I
looked at Misty who was lying there so still, listening,
her eyes fixed on the wall, her face full of
anticipation. She realized I had stopped and turned to
me. We stared at each other a moment.
"Don't even think it," she warned. "It's not a sin;
we didn't kill her or anything. We did what we had to
do to protect you. What difference does it make where
she rests in peace or who knows?"
I nodded, but my chest felt so full, so heavy
with the guilt I wanted to believe would go away. "It's a beautiful letter. I agree with what she
said about love. Don't stop reading. There's more, isn't
there?" she asked hopefully.
"Yes," I said. I looked at it again and continued. "I think I can actually pinpoint when you were
conceived. It was on a rainy Friday. Franklin was out
of town on business and your father came to the
house. Shall I tell you now who he is? My fingers
tremble with the pen in hand. Will I cause more
trouble, hurt more people? Do you have a right to
know? Of course you do. Whatever happens as a
result is my fault only Never never blame yourself for
anything.
"Your father was Franklin's much younger
brother Alden. He was actually only five years older
than Geraldine. Does that make it sound like I robbed
the cradle? I hope not. The truth is Alden was
emotionally wiser and older than most of his
contemporaries, although he was a disappointment to
his parents and especially to Franklin, who was the
hardest on him--even before he knew Alden and 1 had
become lovers. Alden didn't want to be confined to a
business career His love was music, composing. He
played the piano beautifully and many a night, he
performed only for me.
"In college he majored in music, and won many
awards. He earned a small living tutoring, giving
private lessons, but he had no ambition to be wealthy
and powerful. He was a beautiful man: poetic,
romantic, a dreamer I suppose, and he was very
handsome. I expect you will inherit his good qualities,
Cathy. I really do.
"However by the time you begin reading these
letters, I don't suppose you will know all that much
about Alden. The family wasn't proud of him as they
should have been and they refrained from talking
about him if they could. It was as if his personal
creative ambitions were considered a sign of-
madness. Perhaps he was a little mad, but all creative
people are. I found his disregard for material wealth
and for all the things Franklin and his family found
important to be charming. He was refreshing, as
refreshing as a warm but crisp late summer breeze,
and he had a sm
ile that could melt the hardest, iciest
heart-- yes, even Geraldine's.
"He spent a lot of time with Geraldine. He tried
to get her to play the piano and she did take lessons
from him, but I think she did it more to be in his
company than out of any love of music. She did
passingly well, but the moment she found out about us, she stopped the lessons and hasn't put her fingers
to keys ever since.
"I know Geraldine felt more betrayed by Alden
than she did by me. Her deep love and affection for
him soured into jealousy and hatred. It got so she
wouldn't speak to him unless she absolutely had to
and she avoided him as much as she could. She didn't
even go to his funeral.
"I expect you know about his death of course,
but you will have known it only as a family tragedy
and not, as you now do, as the death of the man who
was your true father
"The tears are rolling off my cheeks so fast, I
think I have to stop for a while. I wanted to tell you
about our wonderful night together, the one in which
you were created; however I'll save that for the next
letter
"Love can be so painful sometimes that I envy
Geraldine for being so hard. She once told me bitterly
that she didn't need to love anyone or have anyone
love her I know she was just speaking out of anger
and disappointment that she had never met anyone
who loved her dearly, passionately, but there are
times when I wish it had been true for me.
"And then I think how lonely she must be and I feel absolutely dreadful for her. The truth is every time I look at her I think of my own guilt. I am partly responsible for her misery and all the beautiful music and true feelings in the world can't erase that from my
heart. It's a scar
"You, you are the only hope I have for
redemption. Be wonderful, be someone full of love
and compassion, and never stop searching until you
find someone who fills your heart with so much joy
you can hardly breathe without him beside you. "I'd like to know I was responsible for that. "For now, Mother"
I put the letter down and looked at Misty. She
was wiping the tears from her cheeks.
"That was beautiful," she said. She sat up and
gazed at the letter. "So now you know who your
father is or was, I should say. What do you know
about him?"
"Hardly anything," I said. "Geraldine never
talked about him and there isn't even a picture of
him--that I know of, that is. I know where he is