Secrets Don't Sink, page 22
She shrugged her frail shoulders, but her face was deeply sad. “It wasn’t meant to be, I guess. Speaking of grandmothers, Audrey.” She sipped her beer. “I knew your grandmother, too, before she passed away. Your mother’s mother, Allie.”
“You did? She died from a heart attack a year and a half after I was born, so I never knew her. My mom never talks about her side of the family. My dad thinks she’s ashamed about growing up poor with an unmarried mother.”
“Mmm,” Mildred murmured.
“My Great Gramma May was also tight-lipped about Grandma Allie. Whenever I’d broach the subject, she’d only say, ‘No one should have to outlive their child.’”
“Losing a child brings deep grief,” Mildred agreed.
“How did you know my grandmother? What was she like?”
“We both went to First Presbyterian church. Allie had the most beautiful dark hair. Shiny, like the mane of an Arabian mare. I was so jealous, with my frizzy mousy nest.” Mildred scowled and fluffed her hair. “Her eyes were hazel, like yours.”
“My mom has hazel eyes, and Viv has gold eyes.”
“They probably came from your grandmother. I didn’t spend a lot of time with her socially, but I know she made the most beautiful woven blankets. She sold them during the summer market and at the Christmas bazaar.”
“I have one of her blankets, a baby blanket. It’s yellow with blue stripes around the edges and an orange sun with a tree embroidered in the middle. I think it had a matching yellow hat, but I’ve lost track of it. I used to wrap my doll in it.”
“She donated blankets and hats to the closest hospitals for each and every newborn. It sounds like yours was extra special, though.”
“Wow, that’s cool. I wonder why my mom never told me she did that. That’s a heritage she should have been proud to pass on to her daughters. All I got were warnings about not adding to my family’s already tarnished reputation.”
“I can’t speak for your mother. I know Allie struggled with both personal and familial shame. Times were different back then. Certain things weren’t done, and if they were done, they were either done in secret or accompanied by tremendous public disgrace.”
“You mean like illegitimate pregnancies.”
Mildred shifted in her seat. “Mm.”
“Mildred?”
“Yes, dear.” She fixated on her glass as she rotated it.
“If you know something about my family that might shed some light on why there’s this sense of disgrace hanging over us, please don’t hold out on me. It’s been shrouded in secrecy my whole life, but I could feel its effects nonetheless.”
“I don’t want to resurrect old wounds or stir the pot. I don’t think your mother would appreciate that.” Mildred’s mouth twisted.
The stories demanded to be told, but her lips refused.
“You know the phrase about those who don’t know history being prone to repeat it?” I asked.
Mildred nodded warily.
“This is my history too, and I have the right to know.”
She took a deep breath and pointed her index finger at me. “You didn’t hear it from me, got it?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“You’re aware your Grandma Allie was unmarried when your mama was born,” Mildred began.
“Yes, that’s why her birth certificate says Claudine Bristow, with no father listed,” I said. “None of that is news.”
“Similarly, Allie’s father was born Verne Dedeaux, with his mother Fanny’s maiden name.”
“You must be mistaken. My mom’s middle name is Dedeaux, so I know that’s a family name, but I’m positive Great Grandpa Verne’s last name was Bristow, and his father was Elmer Bristow.”
She shook her head.
“What do you mean, no? If Verne wasn’t born a Bristow but a Dedeaux….”
Holden gave me a pitying smile.
“Mildred, you’re not saying…are you saying Elmer wasn’t Verne’s father?”
She nodded.
I slumped into the curve of the booth. The clash of a metal pan dropping onto the kitchen floor echoed the cacophony of my thoughts.
“I’m just…I…I don’t understand. Why lie about who Grandpa Verne’s father was? Why so many secrets?”
“Most secrets are meant to protect either the secret keeper or the one most adversely affected by the secret. Sometimes, it’s both. I have a feeling that might be the case here.”
“So, then, how did you know this secret about my family that even my mother didn’t know?”
“I said I knew Allie from church, but that’s only part of the story. I met her when I was leading a support group for unwed mothers. I myself had been in trouble at sixteen.”
“Rafael?” Holden asked.
Mildred nodded. “My parents sent me to a Pennsylvania home for girls in my situation. After my son was born, I was told I had no choice but to give him away and come home like nothing ever happened.” Her face clouded with grief. “It was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done in my life. I didn’t want to do it, but my parents insisted all our reputations depended on it. Scandal isn’t easy to live down, especially in small towns.”
Mildred fiddled with her napkin, wringing it through her hands.
“When the pastor’s wife announced they were going to start the group, many were upset, saying it condoned hanky-panky outside of marriage. I was the first to volunteer because I’d been there and didn’t want the girls to feel alone, as I had. My mother was horrified, said I was airing our dirty laundry. Stan, my husband Stan, God rest his soul, he knew about my sweet baby boy and encouraged me to participate. He didn’t care what those old biddies thought about me, and he certainly didn’t care what they thought about him. He’d known part of me broke the day I gave Tomas away. That’s what I called him…Tomas. I don’t know what his adoptive parents named him, probably Jason or Steve.” She grimaced. “Anyway, Stan thought it would help heal my heart to walk the hard road with those girls, especially since I wasn’t able to have more children.”
I placed my hand over Mildred’s. It was soft and frail. “I’m sorry, that must have been difficult. I’m grateful you were willing to share your own pain to help others in similar circumstances.”
“Allie was a formidable young woman, and she was not about to let convention rob her of the opportunity to raise her own child. One night, after everyone had left the meeting, she pulled me aside to talk. She said her grandmother Fanny had confided in her that she’d gone through a similar experience when she found herself pregnant with Allie’s father, Verne. Fanny said her neighbor Elmer, who’d held long-standing affection for her, had offered to marry her. Elmer didn’t care he’d be raising another man’s child, and he promised to raise the boy like his own. Which he did, until Fanny grew bored and discarded him for her next paramour, of course.”
“Thus, beginning our family legacy of dysfunctional relationships. Fanny had four husbands. Four. Did you know she made everyone call her Aunt Fanny because she didn’t want her boyfriends to know she was a grandmother?”
“Fanny had her issues,” Mildred rebuked me. “But I’ll give her this, she was there for your grandmother when she needed her most.” She stabbed the table with her bony fingertip. “She told Allie strength was in her bloodline, and that gave her the confidence and determination to make choices on her own terms, not anyone else’s. Your family’s story may stray a bit from conventional norms, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t still a legacy of which you can be proud. You should feel grateful to come from a line of women who may not have always made the right choices, but they faced their consequences head-on. If I may be so bold, the stubborn and determined apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”
Holden cleared his throat. “Damn straight.”
I swatted in his direction but addressed my comments to Mildred. “You’re right. I should be proud to be from a line of ardent women. So, what do you think Fanny meant about strength being in Allie’s bloodline?” I took a swig of beer.
“Probably because she was Flathead. Bitterroot-Salish. A tenacious bunch, like you. Survivors.”
I sputtered, spraying my beer. “What?”
Holden wiped his face with his napkin.
Mildred frowned. “You didn’t know you have Native ancestry?”
“No! I was told I’m English and Irish on my father’s side, the O’Connell side, and my mother said she’s part French. Never once has she said we were…Flathead.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know.”
“Mildred, why didn’t you mention any of this to me when we were talking about Chattertowne’s history?”
“My mind isn’t what it used to be. I’ve seen a lot of things, known a lot of people. After our first meeting, memories surfaced of my time with your grandmother. As with the stories about Eddie and George and my parents, everything’s in there somewhere. Regarding your grandmother, well, I wasn’t sure the story was one I had the right to tell.”
“I knew Fanny had a sordid love life. She’s always been a legendary character in our family lore, what with her complicated romantic entanglements, dispassionate discarding of husbands when they no longer suited her purposes, and a flagrant disregard for societal norms. Lying about her son’s father, that’s pretty messed up, but I will say I’m grateful she was willing to share her story with my grandmother. Giving empathy and revealing private details about her life…from what I’ve heard, that was uncharacteristic of Fanny. I’m sure it must have been what Allie needed in that moment.”
“I know it was. Allie told me that conversation gave her the strength to make the decision to keep your mother instead of giving her up for adoption, which her mother had pressured her to do.”
“It’s hard to believe Gramma May wanted my mother given up for adoption.”
“It’s never an easy decision for anyone under those circumstances, but especially in that era.”
“You’d think Grandpa Verne, knowing his mother had been in similar circumstances when she was pregnant with him, would have supported his daughter in keeping her baby. Unless he didn’t know Elmer wasn’t his biological father.” I paused. “If Elmer wasn’t Verne’s dad, who was?”
“I have no idea. Allie didn’t know either.”
“I wonder who I could talk to who might have insight about the Dedeauxs and our family connection to the Bitterroot-Salish? I’d really like to learn more about that side of my family, for my own curiosity but also for my articles.”
“I have a childhood friend, Marie Journet, who might be just the person. She’s part Flathead. She lives in Ellensburg now and doesn’t cross the pass during the winter if she can avoid it, but I’ll bet if you were willing to make the drive, she’d meet with you.”
“I’m anxious to get some answers. I guess I could call, but I’d rather meet in person. Do you think she’d be available tomorrow?”
Holden scoffed. “You planning on driving a hundred miles per hour? Because if you put that boot on the gas pedal, your car will be moving fast as a rocket.”
“Eh, I forgot about that. Will you drive me, pretty please?” I fluttered my lashes.
He ignored me. “Mildred, do you think it’s too late to call and ask Marie if she’s available tomorrow? I have a busy week, and it’s the only day I’m free to drive Audrey.”
“I can certainly find out.”
Mildred plopped her bag onto the table. More tote than purse, her short arms barely reached over the top. She pulled out a hairbrush, a case for reading glasses, and a bottle of Pepto Bismol. Eventually, she located her phone and an address book that had been around since the Nixon Administration. Combing through pages filled with blue, black, and red inks, with some names and addresses scribbled out, she landed on surnames starting with J. Her fingertip dragged halfway down the page and stopped.
“Here she is!”
She flipped open her phone and slowly pressed each button with as much force as she could muster. Putting the phone to her ear, her face lit up when her friend answered.
“Marie! It’s me, Mildred!” She paused. “Yes! I’m out to dinner with friends. Marie, I’ve got a favor to ask. My friends would like to come see you tomorrow. Audrey’s a reporter who’s just discovered she has Flathead heritage. She’d like to know more about that, and I told her you’re just the one she should speak with.” Mildred winked at me. “Wonderful! I have the address from your Christmas card. Is that the best place to meet?”
I couldn’t make out her words, but Marie’s volume matched, if not surpassed, Mildred’s.
“Perfect, I’ll have them meet you there at eleven.” After a moment, she responded, “I wish I could. I’m still a working woman, you know. I’ll try to schedule time for a visit when the weather improves. I don’t like driving in snow and ice.”
The meeting was set for the next day at a diner in Ellensburg.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The ride back from Kirkland was subdued. With no conversation to stimulate her and the dulcet tones of D’Angelo playing on the stereo, Mildred fell asleep. Sitting at my feet, the safe’s presence was palpable. Did Holden sense it, too, like the tell-tale heart?
He stared straight ahead with a grave expression on his face.
I touched his arm. “You okay?”
He glanced over at me and returned his attention to the road. “Just thinking about everything that’s happened, everything that’s changed.”
“Could you be more specific?”
He breathed out a long sigh. “Not long ago, my life was moving at a normal pace, and I felt in control of my world. I’m not saying I didn’t have challenges, but I felt like I had a grip on things. Then Marcus died, and I had to face the fact control is just an illusion. Now I just feel cornered.”
“That sounds like an existential crisis.”
He gripped the steering wheel. “Everyone starts out with good intentions, you know, trying to do the right thing. Then life happens, and choices get made…or they don’t get made, and soon you’re looking at where you are, who you’re with, and what you’re doing, and you can’t figure out how the hell you got there. Know what I mean?”
“I think so. There’ve definitely been times these past few months I’ve questioned a lot of things. My faith in humanity’s been shaken pretty hard after dealing with Peter, coming to grips with what was going on with Marcus, and discovering the corruption throughout Chattertowne’s history. I hate the fact it isn’t the place I believed it to be.”
“You really have been in denial. You haven’t had to face any of the ugly, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t exist.”
“I know I have some pretty big blind spots. It’s just that when someone I trust or admire turns out to be other than who I thought they were, it messes with my head. I can deal with flawed humans because I need grace as much as the next guy, maybe even more, but I don’t know what to do with the paradox of my perceptions and beliefs about a place or a person and the reality of who they are if those two things are markedly different. I may be a disaster, but at least what you see is what you get. I need the people in my life to operate the same way.”
“People aren’t one-dimensional. No one’s all good or all bad, except for Jesus and Hitler, and even Hitler must have had his moments.” Apparently sensing my horror through the darkness, he scoffed, “I’m not defending Hitler. Geez, Audrey. I’m saying we all begin life with the potential to do both good and evil. We all make mistakes. We all make selfish choices. We are often dually motivated. Things that seemed like a good idea in the moment later become our biggest regrets. Most of us try to do what we think is best, not only for ourselves but those we love.”
“Love makes self-less choices when the selfish choices would be easier, feel better, or benefit us more. It’s doing the hard stuff, including walking away when it’s the right thing to do.”
“Are we talking about us now?”
The headlights of a passing car highlighted his clenched jaw.
“Maybe. I’ve been spending all this time with you with little or no regard for your relationship and what flirting with crossing lines does to my dignity and self-respect.”
“I’m sorry our moments of weakness have left you feeling like your dignity’s been compromised, but no offense, Audrey, an illicit near-kiss is the least of my problems.” His expression hardened, and his full lips tightened.
A heavy silence filled the car.
“I think it’s best you don’t drive me to Ellensburg tomorrow.”
Holden adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “You can’t drive.” His words hissed through gritted teeth.
“I’ll figure it out, or Darren can take me.”
I mustered enough courage for a sidelong glance. Holden’s wounded expression provided the payoff I’d been looking for, proof of a direct hit to his pride or his ego. It was too much to wish for jealousy.
“You do that, Audrey.”
A chasm of unspoken hurt, irritation, and weariness over the hopelessness of the situation filled the space between us all the way to Mildred’s house. Holden accompanied her to the doorstep, where she placed her hand on his forearm and said something to him. He shook his head, and his shoulders slumped.
He waited for her to unlock the door, and when she opened it, they both threw their arms in the air.
I opened the car door and leaned out to yell, “Everything okay?”
Holden turned to look at me and grimly shook his head.
I felt my chest constrict with fear. Wrangling my crutches from the back seat, I managed to get myself upright. I hobbled up the pathway to her house. Holden was holding his cell phone up to his ear with one hand and had the other on his hip.
“What happened?” I whispered to a shaken Mildred.
She didn’t say anything, only pointed into her house. I peeked my head inside and gasped. The place had been tossed. Mail was all over the floor, a bookcase had been turned over, and several pieces of what used to be a blue and white ceramic vase were scattered on the ground.
I reached out to pull Mildred into a hug. She felt tiny and frail in my arms. Her body trembled.
