Legacy of Lies & Don't Tell

  “Perhaps you’re the one obsessed,” Aunt Jule countered icily, “hearing Sondra’s voice calling you, reading into insignificant comments. It’s time to move on, Lauren, and clearly you haven’t.”

  I wouldn’t give up. “Nora and I used to play together. We used to be friends. Why does she hate me now?”

  “She doesn’t hate you.”

  “Why does she act the way she does?” I persisted.

  “Because you’ve grown into Sondra,” Aunt Jule replied, tight-lipped.

  I looked her straight in the eye. “I don’t think so.”

  We turned away from each other and worked silently for a minute.

  “Aunt Jule, why did you stop the police from doing a full investigation?”

  “I’m sorry,” she replied, setting down a bag of sugar, “I don’t think I heard you right, Lauren.”

  I knew she had. “It would have been better to let them investigate my mother’s death so we could rule out everything but an accident.”

  “You ungrateful brat! I was protecting you!”

  She stalked out the porch door and slammed it shut. I stood quietly for several minutes, staring down at the cans I held, then continued to put things away. The tears were there again, burning my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall.

  I spent an hour in my room, untying the tiny knots in my necklace, polishing the silver links and tarnished heart. I had seen Aunt Jule angry before—furious the summer my mother came—but her anger had never been directed at me, not until now. I felt as if I were reliving my mother’s stay here seven years ago.

  I didn’t see Nora that afternoon, but I didn’t look for her, either. About five o’clock I took a walk and watched storm clouds mounting over the bay. Dinner was a sandwich alone in the kitchen. I didn’t know if Aunt Jule was still angry at me or simply wary after the argument. Returning to my room, I heard the radio in hers, but I didn’t stop by.

  About six-thirty Holly knocked on my door, then entered, wiggling her fingers.

  I admired her nails. “Fabulous!” I said.

  “Fake,” she replied, “but what the heck. I put the boutonnieres in the fridge. Do you know how many girls would like to go to the prom with Jason?”

  “Well, if anyone wants to take my place ...” I began.

  “Cut it out. You want the bathroom first? I’ve got to make sure these are dry.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll hang your dress on the closet door. You’ve got a pile of shoes to choose from.”

  “Thanks for getting all that together.”

  “Glad to,” she replied. “This is going to be great!”

  When I returned from the bathroom twenty minutes later, I found the shoe boxes piled neatly and the dress hanging on the door. One look told me the gown wouldn’t fit, though it would have been perfect for Holly with her tall model-like frame. I figured it was hers-its blue matched her eyes.

  “Jason had better not be picky about his last-minute dates,” I muttered as I unzipped the back.

  When I put on the dress, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry; a sleeping bag would have been as flattering. I gathered the waist with my fingers, trying to shorten the dress and give it some shape, then padded down the hall toward Aunt Jule’s room to find something I could tie around me as a belt. I hoped she was in a better mood.

  “Good Lord!” she exclaimed before I could say a word. “Are you trying to be nominated for wallflower of the year?”

  “I thought a belt might help.”

  She clucked and came toward me. “It’s going to need more than that,” she said, grasping the fabric, lifting the dress up from my shoulders. “Perhaps your date can bring football pads.”

  “I think he plays basketball.”

  “Then we’ll have to use his shoes.”

  I laughed, glad to know she was back to her old self.

  With her hands still on my shoulders, she turned me around, then shook her head. “I don’t know why Holly thought her dress would fit you. Let’s see what I’ve got I may have to do some fast sewing.”

  I followed her into the walk-in closet, a pleasantly chaotic room, where Nora, Holly, and I used to play. Aunt Jule suddenly seized on something. “This is it! Perfect. Halter tops never go out of style, not when you have pretty shoulders.”

  She pulled out a rather slinky red dress.

  “Wow.”

  “I was pretty wow,” she said, “back in the days when I could fit in this. Now you can be.”

  “I don’t know,” I said, touching the stretchy red fabric.

  She marched me out of the closet and turned me toward the mirror. “Lauren, look at yourself. Do you really want to go to a prom looking like you’re playing dress-ups?”

  I shook my head.

  “So give it a try. Don’t be prim.”

  “I’m not prim,” I argued. “I just don’t want to call attention to myself, and red does.”

  “So does a dress several sizes too big.”

  “True.”

  “How about shoes?” Aunt Jule asked.

  “Holly brought me several pairs.”

  “Do they fit as well as her dress?”

  “I haven’t tried them yet.”

  Aunt Jule disappeared inside the closet. Box lids started flying. “Here we are.”

  She emerged holding up a pair of red heels. “Okay,” she said, noting the expression on my face, “so they’re retro. Trust me, when guys see you in these, they’ll be falling all over you.”

  “Or I’ll be falling all over them. How can you stand in heels that tall and skinny? I’ve got four-inchers, but they’re not on pinpoints.”

  “Try them,” she said.

  I did, walking back and forth in my room, then up and down the porch, my heels clicking loudly, my bathrobe blowing in the breeze of arriving storms.

  At eight-fifteen I was dressed and surveyed myself in the mirror once more. The red gown was the most sophisticated thing I’d ever worn. The slits up its sides did more than provide a view of my legs, they were necessary if I wanted to walk rather than hop like the Easter Bunny.

  I picked up the little evening bag Aunt Jule had lent me and headed downstairs. When I reached the lower hall, I heard Frank, Holly, and Aunt Jule talking. I assumed the guys hadn’t arrived yet. Relaxing a little, I entered the river room and strode toward the fireplace, where Holly was posing.

  Frank glanced over his shoulder, then turned around and whistled at me.

  “Really, Frank.” Aunt Jule said, but this once he had succeeded in pleasing her.

  Holly looked at me with surprise. “Where did you get that dress?”

  “It’s your mom’s.”

  “I lent you mine,” she said.

  “It was beautiful, but it didn’t fit.”

  “Surely, Holly,” Aunt Jule interjected, “a girl into details, as you are, would have noticed that you and Lauren are built very differently.”

  I heard the put-down in my godmother’s voice and wished she’d act more like a mother and less like a goading sister.

  “Holly, you look incredible,” I said. She was wearing a silk dress that perfectly matched her sapphire eyes. Her long black hair swept down over thin straps and a low-cut back. “I want a picture of you for my room at school.”

  “Perhaps one of you gals together,” Frank suggested.

  “No,” Holly said. “With our dates and individually.”

  I didn’t argue. It was her prom, we should do what she wanted. I backed up and sat down on a hassock. With the height of my shoes and the low seat, my knees shot up. So did the tight skirt, its slit climbing three quarters of the way up my leg.

  “I don’t know about these shoes, Aunt Jule,” I said. “You could use them for hole punchers.”

  A deep laugh sounded behind me. I jumped.

  “Nick! I didn’t know you were here.”

  “I came in from the porch,” he said.

  He looked terrific and surprisingly at ease in his tux.


  “Why didn’t you say something?”

  His green eyes held mine for a moment, shining softly. “I couldn’t think of anything.”

  “That’s rather unusual for you, Nick,” Aunt Jule remarked.

  Frank agreed with a grunt.

  Nick smiled and sat in the chair behind me. “Enjoy it while it lasts.” His eyes dropped down to my legs.

  I pulled on my dress, then self-consciously rested my hand on my calf. Nick watched Holly pose but kept stealing glances at my legs. I couldn’t stand it, the funny, fluttety feelings I was getting whenever he looked at me. I turned to face him. “This is nothing new,” I said quietly. “You’ve seen both my legs before.”

  He leaned closer. “Then why are you covering them up?”

  “Okay, next beauty,” Frank announced.

  I looked up and discovered Holly glaring at us. I couldn’t blame her.

  “It’s not my prom, Frank,” I said. “I don’t want any pictures of me.” What I really didn’t want was to draw attention away from Holly.

  “Well, your godmother might. Jule?”

  “Yes, definitely,” she said.

  I stood up reluctantly.

  While Frank was taking my picture, Nora walked in and sat on the floor next to Nick.

  “Hey, Nora girl,” Frank greeted her.

  She didn’t respond.

  “Frank, I want one of Lauren and me together,” Aunt Jule said. “She looks so grown-up, so very beautiful.”

  Nora turned her head. Her eyes studied every detail of me, making me uneasy.

  “And then how about some pictures of Aunt Jule with Nora, and Aunt Jule with Holly,” I suggested.

  “No, we have plenty of us already,” my godmother replied, standing next to me, putting her arm around me. “You look absolutely stunning, love. You’ll be the belle of the ball.”

  I stole a look at Holly, who, luckily, didn’t seem to be listening. She and Nick were going down a checklist for the yearbook’s coverage of the prom.

  Aunt Jule and I smiled at Frank’s command, then she suddenly bent her head close to mine, studying the chain around my neck. “You’re wearing it!” she exclaimed. “The heart I gave you when you were a baby. I didn’t know you still had it.”

  Holly glanced up.

  “Look, girls,” Aunt Jule said, lifting the pendant with one finger. “It’s the little heart I gave Lauren. Do you remember it?”

  Nora shook her head no.

  “I think so,” Holly said. “Is it gold?”

  “Silver,” Aunt Jule replied.

  “I don’t remember,” Nora said.

  “Of course you do,” Aunt Jule insisted. “Lauren wore it all the time. She’d get a white mark on her little suntanned neck. Sondra took it from you, Lauren,” Aunt Jule recalled. “I was so afraid she had gotten rid of it. Where did you find it?”

  “Don’t tell,” Nora said.

  “In the boathouse.”

  “Don’t tell! It’s a secret!” Nora cried out.

  Aunt Jule and Holly turned to her, both of them frowning.

  “Sondra wants the little heart,” Nora went on. “Sondra will get it back.”

  Frank shook his head and sent Nick a knowing look.

  “Nora, Sondra is dead,” Nick said quietly.

  The doorbell rang.

  “Who’s next?” Nora asked.

  “That’s Lauren’s date,” Holly replied sharply. “Now, keep quiet! Try to act normal and not embarass us all.”

  Nora bit her lip and turned to Nick. He laid his hand on her shoulder. “Everything’s all right.” The expression on his face, the sound of his voice, was heartbreakingly gentle.

  But it was my heart that had been broken the night my mother died, not Nora’s, and everything wasn’t all right.

  nine

  The doorbell rang for the third time.

  “What do you think,” Frank asked, “should we let in Lauren’s date before he tries another house?”

  Nora sprang up and ran upstairs. Holly answered the door.

  “This is Jason Deere,” she announced.

  My tall, dark-haired date was extremely good-looking and knew how to make an entrance, stopping a few feet inside the room, smiling at me.

  “Okay, let’s not make like a deer caught in headlights,” Frank said. “Line up next to this pretty girl so I can snap a picture and we all can move on.”

  Jason liked to have his picture taken. He also liked to look at my chest. I wished he’d stop.

  “How come you’re not covering up for him?” Nick whispered as we left the house.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  I folded my arms over my chest, but had to unfold them again to walk—it was too difficult to balance with the slim dress and spike heels.

  Nick threw back his head and laughed. Both Holly and I glared at him. Jason looked a little mystified but had too much self-confidence to worry about what was going on. He took my hand and drew it lightly through his arm, escorting me to his car.

  We arrived at the Queen Victoria just as Jason’s ex-girlfriend and her date entered the hotel. Though it was about to pour, we had to wait in the car several minutes to make sure they were settled inside and could watch us arrive. When we finally got to the famous arch of roses, guys gave me the once-over. Girls whispered. Jason’s ex checked me out and looked annoyed. Jason was very pleased with this and told me so. I should have realized then what kind of night it was going to be.

  Wherever she was, we were, on the carved wood staircase, by the punch-and-cookie tables, near a screen of potted palms. Jason gazed deep in my eyes as if we were madly in love and told boring basketball stories. For the first hour my only real entertainment was watching two girls dump glasses of punch on Nick.

  Karen, my guide from earlier in the day, was standing nearby and explained what I had already figured out. “Nick said yes to both of them when they asked him to the prom.”

  A half hour later he had danced with both of them, and a lot of other girls as well, while Holly directed Steve in his picture taking.

  Occasionally Jason would wander off with one of his basketball buddies. Nick had at least two chances to ask me to dance, but didn’t.

  My feelings aren’t hurt, I told myself. But they were.

  I tried mixing in with the other kids, asking about their plans for the summer and college, but it was only natural at this last school-sponsored event that they would want to talk about their memories, rather than get to know an outsider. At a band break, while Jason and his buddies recalled another story in the series of their team’s greatest moments, I slipped away. I found a velvet love seat, conveniently secluded by palms that separated it from the other chairs. I sank down on it, glad to give my feet and party face a rest.

  The fan of palms split. Nick’s smile appeared. “Having a good time?” he asked.

  “Terrific,” I lied.

  “How do you like Jason?”

  “He’s a lot of fun.”

  “Yeah, I can tell. He’s over there, you’re here.”

  “My feet are tired,” I explained.

  Nick leaned forward, so his face came around the side of the big plant. “That’s one of those things I’ve never understood, girls and shoes. Why are you wearing those instruments of torture?”

  I shrugged. “They’re Aunt Jule’s. They match the dress.”

  “You could drive their heels through the heart of a vampire.”

  I laughed and he laughed with me, but his eyes were watchful.

  “Sometimes you look so serious,” he said.

  I glanced away. “Some things in life are serious.”

  “Ignore them,” Nick told me. “I always do.”

  I met his gaze. “You’ve been lucky in your life. So far you haven’t confronted anything that you can’t ignore.”

  His face grew thoughtful, his eyes a different shade of green. I knew I was looking at him too long. I wished he would ta
ke my hand and be as gentle with me as he had been with Nora.

  “Jason’s looking for you.” Holly’s voice cut between us.

  I straightened up as if our school’s headmistress had just walked in.

  “For me?” Nick asked mischievously.

  “For Lauren.”

  “Right,” I said, standing up.

  Holly’s voice became warmer. “He’s thrilled with you, Lauren. He says he’s got the hottest girl at the prom.”

  “Great.” I headed toward Jason without glancing back at her and Nick.

  Jason lifted his arm and put it around me as if we had been a couple forever, then went right on talking. I noticed a man wearing rose-tinted glasses standing at the rim of the group of athletes, smiling and nodding. He looked like one of those teachers who wanted to be in with the kids, the kind who went by his first name and didn’t realize he was hopelessly uncool.

  But I had no one else to talk to. When he followed the cheese tray around the circle to me, I smiled at him.

  “I’m Dr. Parker,” he said, holding out his hand. “Call me Jim.”

  “Lauren Brandt,” I replied, shaking his hand.

  He repeated my name slowly. “Now, how would I know you?”

  Judging by his wide, flowered tie, sandals and socks, and the ecology button pinned cockeyed on his shirt, he wasn’t a supporter of my father. “I’m staying with my godmother, Jule Ingram, and her daughters, Holly and Nora.”

  “Oh, yes. Holly and Nora. Two very different girls.”

  “Have you taught Nora?” I asked eagerly. A teacher’s view of her might be helpful.

  “No. I’m the school guidance counselor. “

  “So you have a background in psychology,” I said.

  “That’s right.”

  I steered him away from the group. “I have some questions.”

  “But I have no answers,” he replied, smiling.

  “My questions are about Nora, not myself,” I explained, when we were a distance from the others. “I’ve known her all my life and I’m really worried. Do you have any idea what’s wrong with her?”