"Yes. I guess," I said. "Its not something I want to talk about. Harley."
Any indignation or disappointment he felt quickly disappeared. "I'm sorry. Summer. I should be asking you how you are,"
He reached for my hand and held it.
We sat there like that for a few long moments, neither of us talking.
"If there's anything I can do, you'll tell me, right?" he finally asked,
"Yes, thank you. Harley."
"Why did you run out of your house like that? Did Roy say something nasty to you, blame you or anything?" he demanded, ready to fight for my honor.
"No, no," I said. "Nothing like that."
"Then."
"I'm still very upset. Harley. Everything upsets me. Please understand."
"Sure," he said.
"I'd better go back inside," I said rising. He stood up quickly.
"Thanks for trusting me," he said.
"Just remember your promise," I admonished. He smiled.
"There's nothing you could ask of me that I wouldn't do for you. Summer."
"Thank you," I said.
I started to turn away and he put his arm around me and held me against him for a moment. It made me tense. I couldn't help feeling so ashamed, even though I knew I shouldn't.
"I've got to go." I whispered and hurried off the gazebo and toward the house.
"Good night." he called after me.
I didn't reply. The tears were choking my throat.
As I started up the stairs toward the front door. Daddy pulled into the driveway. He honked his horn and got out quickly.
"What are you doing outside?" he asked, hurrying to me. "I just wanted to get some air. Daddy."
"Oh."
He put his arm around me.
"You all right?"
"Yes," I said.
"Hungry, too?"
I wasn't. but I nodded.
He kissed me on the cheek and we entered the house together.
Mommy was waiting in the hallway. She and I looked at each other.
"Summer?" she said.
"I'm okay," I said. "And hungry. too."
"Everything's ready," Mrs. Geary called from the dining room doorway.
Daddy kept his arm around my shoulders as we followed Mommy down the hallway.
The air was so thick with our troubled thoughts, it was hard to breathe, much less sit at the table and have a normal dinner. Daddy tried to get some conversation going by talking about the clubs and some personnel problems. Mommy listened but her eyes swung to me often as she searched my face for some hint about my feelings. I tried to avoid her gaze, which was enough to confirm her fears.
Afterward. I excused myself as quickly as I could and went upstairs to sleep. When I slipped under my blanket, I closed my eyes and in seconds, fell asleep.
I never heard anyone come up the stairs. Later. Daddy told me he had come up to look in on me a number of times. I awoke suddenly at nearly four in the morning. For a while I was very confused. There was a split second or two when I hoped and thought everything that had happened was just a nightmare. I hadn't even gone to music camp yet.
The illusion was short-lived, of course. I sat up, wiped my eyes and took a deep breath. I was very tired. but I didn't feel like falling back to sleep. Even though I had forced myself to eat Mrs. Geary's wonderful dinner. I was still hungry. I decided to go down and get a glass of milk and maybe have some bread and jelly.
The upstairs hall light was dim as was the downstairs hall light. The house itself was sleepy quiet, my parents' bedroom door closed. The carpeted steps kept my descent a secret. I made my way to the kitchen quickly and began to fix my snack. I was almost finished eating when I heard the distinct sound of Mommy's elevator chair. I sat there listening to the click of metal and then the soft sound of her wheelchair moving down the hallway.
She was in her nightgown, her hair dawn,
"I thought you might have gone down for something," she said smiling. "I haven't been able to sleep much. On and off all night." she continued. "Daddy took a sleeping pill and he's snoring away. Are you all right?""
"Yes."
"Would you pour me a glass of milk, too?"
I rose and quickly did it. She came to the breakfast table and I handed her the glass of milk. She sipped some and peered at me over the glass.
"Why did you run away from us like that earlier. honey?"
"I don't know," I said quickly.
"How long were you standing there?"
"A while."
She nodded, paused, drank some more of her milk and looked at me.
"Uncle Roy didn't want to live here so close to us, you know."
"Yes."
"I was so used to having him nearby, watching over me when I was younger. After he and Glenda married. I thought it was fine, everything would be fine. Sometimes. I think life is like a stream of water making its way over land and it runs into one obstacle and starts to flow in another direction. Once it gets moving again. it doesn't think about where it had been going.
"I guess that's just wishful thinking." She shook her head at my look of confusion. What did all that mean? "I'm babbling. I'm tired." she said. "Sorry."
"No. it's all right. Mommy."
She looked at me hard.
"I don't want any more secrets between us. Summer. Whether I like it or not, you're a young woman now. You've handled this terrible situation very maturely, more maturely than I could have handled it at your age, even living where I was living and seeing the things I saw almost daily. I'm proud of you. honey."
I nodded and looked down. "Summer?"
"Why were you kissing Uncle Roy like that?" I finally asked. "He was holding you so close and when he kissed you, you looked like you were kissing him back."
"I thought that was it," she said nodding. "Uncle Roy has been my big brother so long. I guess I can't stop being a little girl when he comforts or protects me."
"That wasn't a little girl's kiss. Mommy. He wasn't kissing you like a big brother kisses his little sister either."
She stared a moment, her eyes small.
"It's so complicated, honey, and it's late."
"I thought you didn't want any mare secrets between us." She sighed and shook her head.
"You have so much on your head tonight."
"One more thing won't matter." I insisted.
She smiled.
"You are stronger than I was." she concluded. She sat back, closing her eyes and grimacing for a moment as if the thoughts were already bringing her pain.
"After Uncle Roy found out the truth about my birth, he came to me and confessed that he had been hating and punishing himself for years because of the feelings he had for me, feelings he thought were unnatural.
"He was actually happy we weren't really related and he wanted me to feel the same way about him. understand?"
"Yes," I said.
"I couldn't, but he kept trying to get me to change. I loved him so much and hated the thought of his being so unhappy, that I did try. However. I couldn't change and he had to face that fact. He thought Fate had been cruel to him, to us.
"When he met Glenda. I was so happy because I thought that finally he would find happiness and learn to live with what had happened to us. As you know, he and Glenda have had their own share of tragedy. Your aunt Glenda is hard to live with. Roy has come to me often to cry about it.
"Sometimes. he falls back to the old wishes and dreams. I do my best to help him and help him try to make a life for himself and Glenda. Usually. I'm very good at it. Earlier tonight. I stumbled. It won't happen again, but I was weak, frightened for you and I just slipped."
"What did he mean when he talked about what happened in London?" I pursued.
She bit her lower lip and shook her head. Tears were in her eyes.
"Okay, Mommy." I said quickly. "I understand. I'm all right." She smiled and we hugged.
"It's so good having a big girl to talk to. Summer. You're my best friend now."
 
; "And you're mine, Mommy."
"Good," she said. "Want to go back to sleep?"
"Yes."
I put everything away and helped her into the elevator chair. She went up, into her chair and back to her bedroom, pausing at the door to smile at me.
"See you in the morning, honey," she said.
I went into my room and then went to the window and looked out over the lake toward Uncle Roy's house where he was in bed, maybe staring into the darkness, thinking about the strange turns and twists his life had taken.
Secrets hovered in all the shadows between our two houses. When the sun came up, they retreated into our hearts, waiting, hoping to be discovered, to be reborn in the light of day.
What great secret had been passed on to me? What now waited in my heart?
8
Burying the Past
.
I felt like someone who had been holding her
breath under water until I learned it was definite that I was not pregnant. What an added horror that would have been. Mommy looked just as relieved as I was. Daddy had become very quiet about all of it. He was like someone who had been forced to swallow sour milk and didn't want to talk about it or hear any references to it for fear it would make him sick again. He didn't want to hear anything more about the music school and was very happy that my step grandfather had taken care of all that had followed.
Mommy arranged for Ms. Lippincott, my regular piano teacher, to come to the house and work with me twice a week. I practiced the clarinet on my own whenever I had the urge. Daddy wanted me to go to work with him every day. He wanted me to help out at the office, but I wasn't ready for it. It was more comfortable to stay close to home, take walks and occasionally swim in our lake or go rowing.
Late afternoons. I sat with Mommy on the rear patio and we talked and did needlepoint together. One day seemed to flow into the next, all of us talking softly, moving about as if we didn't want to wake up the bitter memories sleeping at our feet.
Grandmother Megan and Grandfather Grant came to visit after my first full week home. I thought I was going to hate every moment of it. So did Mommy, because Grandmother Megan began her visit by acting as though I had died.
"You poor, poor child," she said as soon as she set eyes on me. "you poor little girl."
"She's hardly a little girl anymore. Mother," Mommy said. "And I don't mean because of what happened. She's sixteen and very mature and responsible."
Grandfather Grant went off with Daddy to the office and left us in the living room.
"Yes, yes. I know that. What did the doctor say?" Grandmother Megan asked Mommy.
"She said she was fine. There are no
complications, if that's what you mean."
"She? You have a woman doctor for Summer?"
"Doctor Melrose. She's in with Doctor Stern, and Summer was more comfortable with her."
"oh. Yes." She looked at me again with such pity that I thought she might start to cry any moment.
"I'm all right. Grandmother," I insisted, but her expression of grief just grew deeper.
"I hate to see you lose your innocence so soon in your life. Summer," she continued and followed it with a long, dramatic sigh as she sat back and swung her eyes toward the window.
Mommy glanced at me and smirked.
"You weren't much older when you lost yours. Mother." she said.
Grandmother Megan stiffened quickly and looked at her.
"Even so. Rain, that was with my consent. It's hardly the same loss of innocence."
"There's no point in making her feel any worse than she feels about it. Mother."
"I know that. Don't you think I know that?" She paused and studied me. "You mustn't think about it anymore." she said. "You must pretend hard that it never happened, that it was just some bad dream. That's what I do when I'm faced with something unpleasant and it works if you really try hard, Lately," she continued, more to Mommy now than me. "that's all I do in regards to Alison. Do you know that last week she went out four times with four different men. When I commented about it, she told me she was window-shopping. Now what's that supposed to mean. window-shopping? How do you window-shop for men?"
"Why didn't you ask her?" Mommy inquired.
"And have her tell me? Thank you. no. No thank you. That girl enjoys shocking me. I don't want to hear about any of her exploits."
"She's just looking for attention. You've got to show her you're interested in her. Mother."
"What? How can you say that? Look at all I've bought her and all the opportunities I've provided for her. I've sent her on more trips than a travel agent takes. and I can't tell you how many times Grant has had to bail her out of one problem or another.
"She's simply ungrateful,' Grandmother Megan concluded. "Spoiled and ungrateful,"
"You can only blame yourself for that. Mother."
"Nonsense. Some girls are just... inclined to be spoiled. I wasn't spoiled. was I? And I had anything I wanted. My father thought the sun rose and set on my smiles and tears."
She looked at me again, shaking- her head, her lips trembling.
"You poor, poor dear. Your first experience with a man should have been wonderful, romantic, something to cherish in your heart forever and ever. Forget it. Just forget it. You know what you should do?" she said, suddenly animated. "You should go out in the back and bury the memory. I've done that and it's always worked for me."
"Bury the memory?" I looked to Mommy, who only shrugged and shook her head. "How do you do that. Grandmother?"
"I'll show you," she said jumping up. "Get a piece of paper and a pen. Come on. Let's do it." she insisted.
"Mother. please. You're being ridiculous," Mommy chastised softly.
"I am not. Summer doesn't think I am. Do you, dear?"
"Just get a sheet of paper and a pen." she said.
I glanced at Mother who raised her eves toward the ceiling and then I rose, went into the kitchen and fetched the pad and pen that were always by the telephone.
"Good," she said when I brought them back. "Now sit right here." she said patting the chair next to the corner table. She put the pen and pad on the table. "Go on."
I did as she asked and looked up at her.
"Write down what happened as simply and as quickly as you can. Go ahead," she ordered.
"Mother," Mommy protested.
"Just be quiet for a moment. Rain. You don't know everything there is to know. I've learned some things with my added years."
"I don't really want to do this. Grandmother," I said.
"Of course you don't. It's painful, but it's like throwing up rotten food. You've got to get it out of you. Do it quickly. Go on. dear."
She stood over me, waiting, hovering like a grade school teacher insisting her student write the sentence over and over until she got it perfect.
I took a breath, thought a moment and then jotted down the most basic two-line description: / went for awalk with a boy at school. He got me into his van and raped me.
"Perfect," Grandmother Megan said. She tore the page out of the pad and folded it over and over until it was only an inch or so wide. She held it tightly in her clenched hand as if she had caught an annoying fly. "Now let's go get a shovel, find an out-of-the-way place out back and bury it as deeply as we can. Come along," she said energized by the plan.
"Everyone is going to think you're absolutely mad. Mother."
"It's not for everyone to know," she replied. "Summer?"
Mother looked at me, her expression suddenly curious because of mine. I couldn't help wondering if it would work. Maybe there was some magic in it. Grandmother Megan was certainly an expert when it came to avoiding sadness.
"I can't stand this anymore. I'm going to see about Mrs. Geary making us some lunch." Mother said and started wheeling away from us.
"Come along. dear," Grandmother Megan said putting her arm around my shoulders.
We walked out together.
"Now where are the ground tools k
ept these days?" she asked. "Still in the shed by the garage," I said pointing.
We headed for it and I located a spade.
"I know the exact spot to go to," she whispered.
She led me around the house and to the right, almost to the woods.
"I once buried a doll here," she told me. "I had dropped it and it cracked into two pieces. My father had brought it back from a trip for me. It was so beautiful and precious. I cried so hard. I nearly cracked myself into pieces and then my father said I should give my doll a funeral. My sister Victoria thought it was absolutely ridiculous, but my father and I came out here. He dug the grave and we put the broken doll into the ground. Then he covered it and we said a prayer and I did feel better.
"Go on, dig your little grave and bury your horror," she ordered.
I glanced around. There was no one watching us outside, but when I looked at the house. I thought I saw Mommy peering out of the window in the kitchen nook. As quickly as I could, I dug a hole.
"Drop it in," she said handing me the folded paper.
I did so and then I covered it quickly. She stepped on the covered hole as if she was stamping down on an ugly insect.
"Stomp it," she commanded.
I stepped on it.
"Harder." she instructed, "Go on. Harder and harder."
I did so and I had the strangest feeling that I was crushing my nightmares.
"Harder," she chanted and then added. "die, die. die." I muttered that. too.
"Ok-ay,-. she said putting her hand on my shoulder. She smiled at me. "It's gone. You've rid yourself of it. Don't you feel lighter, freer? Well? Don't you?"
"Yes," I said. Maybe it was crazy. but at the moment. I did.
We walked back to the shed to put away the spade and then returned to the house to have lunch. Not once during the remainder of that day was a word spoken about what we had done or what had happened to me. When I said Goodbye to her after she had gotten into the limousine later, she looked out at me. smiled and said. "Its gone, all gone." She patted my hand and sounded just like Mommy did when I was little and she wanted to convince me my nightmare wouldn't return.
Then she and Grandfather Grant were driven off. After the limousine disappeared. I stood and gazed over our great property. Everything was plush, the trees thick with rich green leaves, the grass like carpet with all our summer flowers blooming. It looked full of life and cheerful. yet I had the distinct feeling that the grounds of this estate were peppered with little graves, all filled with Grandmother Megan's moments and memories of unhappiness and all gone from her mind.