He had to be lying, or passing on their lies. Why wouldn't Mommy or Daddy ever have told me?
Moments later, Cary stood at my side. "I knew I shouldn't have said anything."
"You shouldn't have said anything so stupid," I retorted, looking up at him. He stood holding May's hand. She looked frightened, as if she might start to cry herself. I got to my feet and brushed off my clothing.
"When we get back to the house, I'll show you something," he said. He turned and started away. I took May's hand and we followed.
At the rear door, Cary paused. "This way." He took us around to the north side of the house where there was a metal cellar door. He reached down and pulled it open. There was a short, cement stairway that led to another door. "It's the basement."
I hesitated. He went down the stairs and opened the next door, stepping in to pull a cord that turned on a swinging, naked bulb. When I walked down the stairs, I saw the basement had just the ground for a floor, but there were metal shelves against the old fieldstone foundation. I passed through cobwebs. There was a dank and musty odor.
"This is under the oldest section of the house," Cary explained. "I think it was once the fruit and vegetable cellar. Something like that. Laura and I used to think of this as our clubhouse. We didn't mind the dampness or the spiderwebs and mice."
"Mice?"
"They've scurried into their hiding places by now." He smiled, then stepped across the small room to one of the metal shelves and pulled a carton off the second shelf, lowering it to the basement's dirt floor. The cardboard, left in this clamminess, was soft and nearly ripped under his touch as he opened the box slowly.
"Here," he said, waiting for me to approach. I took slow steps, my chest feeling as if I had
swallowed lumps of coal that now lay stuck against my heart. May remained at my side, clinging to my hand. I gazed into the box. It was filled with photo albums. He took out the first one and opened it.
"Your parents were gone by the time Laura and I had discovered all this, of course. When we asked Grandma Olivia about these pictures, she forbade us ever to come in here again. We didn't for a long time," he said.
I looked at the pictures. They were old photos taken of children, two boys and a girl.
"This is your father and your mother and this is my father," Cary pointed out. He turned the pages, which contained pictures of Daddy, Mommy, and Uncle Jacob as they grew older. The resemblances became sharper and clearer with every turn of the page. "Your father was always a big guy, huh? And your mother, she was pretty from the start," he said.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as he slowly turned the pages, revealing pictures taken at lawn parties, on the swing bench, near the flower gardens, pictures on sailboats and fishing boats. There were school pictures, as well as group family pictures.
I shook my head in disbelief.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry you never knew the whole truth."
I bit down on my lower lip and sucked in air through my nose, ignoring my hot tears. He put the albums back in the carton, neatly closed it, and placed it back on the shelf.
"There's a lot more here, but maybe some other time," he said.
I turned away, releasing May's hand. It felt as if I had let go of a lifeline and I was now drifting in space. Dazed, I went back to the cement steps and up into the daylight, vaguely hearing Cary put out the light and close the basement door behind us. I stared out at the glittering sea, the ocean looking like a floating mirror, mesmerizing.
A cocoon of lies had been spun around me. Cary had sliced it open and I was looking out at the world with different eyes.
But more was yet to come. I sensed it, and that ominous dread put thunder in my heart. I would know it all, I vowed, no matter how damning the truth might be.
11
He Says I'm Pretty
.
Cary stepped up beside me and stood there for a
few moments without speaking. Two terns flew by. Their cries sounded like screams to me. Maybe that was because I felt I was screaming inside myself. In moments my world had gone topsy-turvy. The blue sky now looked gray. The soft blue water had turned to ice.
"I'm sure my parents were unaware that you didn't know about Hailie, Melody. At least, I never heard my father say anything. I'd appreciate it if you didn't let them know I was the one who told you," Cary said.
I spun on him so sharply, he winced as if he expected to be slapped. "I guess I could lie and tell them Mommy had told me all this. Or I could pretend someone at school told me. Maybe I just figured it all out myself, right? I mean, everyone here grows lies as abundantly as the cranberries
. I have lots to choose from, don't I?"