Secret Lives (26 page)

I haven't touched this journal in a very
long time. From time to time I come across the notebooks and feel
like throwing them out. The journal seems like such a part of my
childhood, and there is not too much about my childhood I want to
remember. But something stops me from throwing them out each time I
have a mind to. I feel awkward writing in the journal now. It's
like meeting up with an old friend after too long an absence,
having to get a feel for them all over again.

I did do a lot of writing this year, though.
More than twenty children's stories—I needed the companionship of
my young characters with both Kyle and Matt gone. But they are back
now for the summer and Matt is quitting school to start a paper in
Coolbrook. He's taken to wearing suits and smoking a pipe! But when
he can, he changes to dungarees and helps Kyle and me dig. We have
carved a pit into the earth in front of the cave and are finding
arrowheads and pieces of clay. Even though Kyle's going back to
school next month, he'll be home weekends to work in the pit. His
interest in discovering what lies below the earth will keep him
here. As for me, I've decided never to leave Lynch Hollow again.
There is nothing for me outside except discomfort.

I wrote other stories this summer too that
would put Lady Chatterley and her lovers to shame. Those I've
hidden. They are just for me and they were far more important than
my children's stories in helping me survive this last year without
Kyle and Matt.

August 5, 1947

Today I met Ellie Miller, Sara Jane's new
baby. I woke up this morning after having dreamt about that baby
for the fourth time—this time she had no feet, the last time no
face—and I knew I had to see her.

I asked Kyle if he would take me and he
looked at me like I was crazy. “Leave her alone, Kate,” he said.
“Let Sara Jane have her grief in private.”

But something was driving me. Susanna said I
could borrow her old bicycle, and though it's been a few years
since I was on one, I had no trouble riding it. I picked a bunch of
wildflowers from the field near Ferry Creek, stuck them in the
basket, and went on my way.

I've kept so close to the cave this last
year that I'd forgotten how bad I feel out in the world. When I
reached the part of the road with the cornfields on both sides I
felt dizzy, like I would fall off the bicycle any minute. But I
made it all the way to Coolbrook and felt right proud of myself. I
was still nervous, though, and by the time I got to Sara Jane's
door I was trembling.

Sara Jane herself opened the door. She is
big as a house and her eyes were puffed out, from crying, I
assumed, and I felt sad for her.

“
Hello, Sara Jane,” I said. “I've come to
visit your new baby.” I held out the flowers and she took them from
my arms and stepped aside to let me in, all without saying a word
to me.

Tommy Miller was sitting at the table in the
little dining part of their living room and he said “hi” to me, and
“thanks for coming.”

Then Sara Jane said it was way too soon for
anyone to visit the baby—she was only three days old and there were
germs she might catch. But Tommy said, “Oh, let her see her. Have a
seat there, Miss.” He called me 'Miss' and I figured he didn't
remember who I was.

I sat down on the sofa and Sara Jane
disappeared in another room and came out holding the tiniest little
baby I've ever seen, wrapped up in a pink blanket. She put her in
my arms, and I learned something about myself right then. I want to
be a mother. I want to have a baby of my own.

Ellie Miller is adorable beyond words. First
she was asleep and looked like an angel with her pretty face and a
little bit of peach fuzz on her head. Sara Jane had given her to me
wrapped up so I couldn't see her arms, but I was determined. If I
was going to spend all my sleeping hours dreaming about this baby,
I wanted to get it right. So I tugged the blanket away with Sara
Jane standing above me, breathing like a steam engine. Ellie has
little hands where her arms should be. Tiny, precious little hands.
I know this baby was put together wrong, but somehow I couldn't see
it just then. She seemed beautiful to me, like maybe it's all the
rest of us who are not formed right. I had a hard time giving her
back to Sara Jane, who still had said next to nothing to me. I
thought of what it would be like for her when she started taking
little Ellie out, when people would stare and talk behind her back,
and my heart nearly broke for her. For Sara Jane! When I was about
to leave I said to her, “People can be mean, Sara Jane. Just you
don't listen to them. Ellie is beautiful and you and I both know
it.” She still said nothing to me. She probably fainted once I
left, not sure what to make of Kate Swift talking kindly to
her.

Kyle was mad when I got home. He says you
just don't do that sort of thing—barge into someone's house when
there's a brand new baby—even if it's a healthy baby that
everybody's excited about showing off. I told him there's never
been a time in my life when I've cared about what was proper or
improper and I wasn't about to start caring now.

October 5, 1947

I visited Ellie again today. Why am I so
drawn to her? I still dream about her. The doctor told Sara Jane
that Ellie will be “backward.” Slow to talk and walk, he means, and
slow to learn things. She'll probably never be able to read and
write and that, in my opinion, is the cruelest blow.

“
But she can still imagine,” I said to
Sara Jane.

“
What does that mean?” Sara Jane all but
barked at me. She still doesn't care much for me.

I tried to explain how being able to dream
things up is the most important thing in the world, more important
than having arms or being able to add two plus two. I thought I was
sounding poetic, but Sara Jane looked at me like she used to in
grammar school—like I was too weird to be believed.

October 25, 1947

Kyle is home for the weekend and it is too
rainy to dig and too rainy to bicycle over to see Ellie, so I
begged him to take me over to Sara Jane's in the car and he finally
agreed. I think he had some curiosity himself about the baby.

Sara Jane got all flustered at finding Kyle
Swift on her doorstep and it made me giggle inside to see it. I
went directly over to the bassinet where Ellie was sleeping and
took her out to sit with on the sofa. Meanwhile, Sara Jane and Kyle
sat down and tried to think of things to say to each other and I
saw right away that Sara Jane still loves him. I recognize the
feeling in her clearly—it's the only thing she and I have in
common. I watched her watching him. She was thinking how different
her life would be now if she'd been true to him, waited for him.
She was thinking she could have married him, instead of ending up
with a baker who stuffs her with cake and keeps her so fat she can
barely get up out of a chair. She was thinking how if she'd stayed
with Kyle she might have a child now that was whole, a child no
other children would snicker at on the street. She looked at Kyle
with such longing. When he moved, when he stood up to come sit next
to me and have a look at Ellie, I could see her remembering what it
was like to make love to him and I could see more than anything the
regret in her eyes.

And what do I see in Kyle's eyes for her?
It's not pity, and that surprises me. It's more like compassion. I
can see he still cares about her, not as a girlfriend, but as a
human being. Despite how she hurt him, despite how, at twenty,
she's let herself fall apart, he still cares, which pretty much
sums up the kind of person my brother is.

While Kyle and Sara Jane chit-chatted, I had
my own little talk with Ellie. I can prop her up on my lap and she
looks at me, though her eyes wander off after a minute or two. I
played with her, with her tiny perfect hands, but what I longed to
do was cuddle her. I wanted to hold her close to my breast. I'm so
envious of Sara Jane for being able to nurse her. I got misty-eyed,
sitting there, thinking of how I'll most likely never have a baby
of my own. I can't imagine getting close enough to a man to allow
that to happen. I thought I've been hiding this longing well,
joking when Susanna and Daddy talk about me ever getting married or
having a family. But Kyle knows. I should have guessed he would. He
seems to know the world inside my head. After we left Sara Jane's
and were driving back to Lynch Hollow in the pouring rain, he said,
“You want a child of your own.”

I was startled by the matter-of-fact way he
said it, without even taking his eyes off the road to look at me. I
said, “I'll never have one of my own.”

“
Matt would be right pleased to provide
you with one,” he said.

“
I haven't seen it rain this hard in
years,” I said, and that was that.

September 10, 1948

I have amazing news, but first I have to
update this journal a bit. I can't believe it's been almost a year
since I've written in it! I used to keep it under my pillow, write
in it day and night. Today I had trouble even finding this
notebook.

Ellie Miller is now a year old. She is a
very quiet child and still doesn't walk, but she has a smile that
lights up your heart. I have only seen her a few times this year,
when I go to the bakery with Susanna. I stopped visiting her
because Susanna had heard from Priscilla Cates that my visits made
Sara Jane nervous. Sara Jane can't relax around me, Priscilla said.
I have no interest in upsetting Sara Jane, so I stopped coming to
see Ellie and in a way I think that's good. Every time I saw her I
wanted a baby and the feeling was turning into a painful one. So
I've spent this year putting all my energy into writing and
archaeology.

Our digs have grown around us. Kyle has been
home from school all summer and we have two pits dug in front of
the cavern. We've unearthed arrowheads and pottery that date back
three thousand years and we have gotten very organized in
cataloging them. Much of the day, I am torn between the careful,
painstaking work of chipping away at the earth, dusting the years
off the old pieces, and writing my stories. I switch from one
activity to the other easily and I feel sorry for Kyle with just
one interest to consume him. But he seems quite content as well. He
has found his calling.

I've thought a great deal about Rosie, the
little skeleton in the maze room. We have never gone back to look
at her again and we have no way of knowing when she lived and died.
But thinking about her gave me the idea of writing a story about a
child who lived in the times we're studying from the digs. The
story turned out very well. In July, Matt had to go to a meeting in
New York, and he took my story with him to read on the train. Here
is the great news: when he returned, he presented me with a check
for one hundred dollars! He'd sold my story to a publisher, Waverly
Books, and next year it will appear as an actual book, illustrated
by someone at the publishing house. And they want more! Matt, who
had this plan up his sleeve for several months, said they are
ecstatic about my work. But they want the stories to be longer and
more detailed, so that is what I'm working on now and what absorbs
my thoughts much of the time.

July 10, 1949

Kyle graduated last month and he's already
talking about going back to school because he wants to get a
doctoral degree. I guess I have been hoping he would just settle
himself down here now that he's done with school, but I have to
face up to the fact that he's never going to settle here. Our digs
have a hold on him, but he has too much wanderlust to stay for
long. He promises to come home on weekends while he's going to
school, so I am not too distressed.

I sold five more books this year and
occasionally I write an article for the Coolbrook Chronicle, Matt's
paper. No one thought a paper would ever make a go of it in
Coolbrook since it's so small, but everyone reads the Chronicle
now.

Yesterday, Matt was in the cave with me,
reading while I typed and he finally looked up and said, “You and I
might as well get married. We're together most of the time
anyway.

I took the cotton out of my ears and said,
“What did you say?” even though I'd heard him very well.

He said we wouldn't have to make love if I
didn't want to, that he'd be content just being with me.

“
What about all your fancy dinner parties
and meetings and such? I could never go with you, you know.” I
wanted him to see how ridiculous his idea was.

“
I don't care. You could stay here. I'd
go by myself. I'd just like to be able to sleep with you at
night.”

When he said that I felt a funny little rise
in me, like I'd like that too. I don't want to marry him and I
don't want to make love to him—it would confuse things between us
too much—but I like the idea of sleeping next to him the night
through. I could slip him into my bedroom after Daddy and Susanna
were asleep and just feel the warmth of him all night long. I think
he probably could sleep with me without touching me. He's never
tried since that time in Georgetown, although a few times he's
kissed me on the cheek. I think Matt's still a virgin.

July 12, 1949

I told Kyle what Matt said about wanting to
sleep with me and Kyle said I should do it if I want to but I
shouldn't expect him not to touch me. I said I thought Matt was a
virgin and Kyle laughed. “Get your head out of the sand, Kate,” he
said. He told me that Matt has two sides to him. There's the soft,
gentle side he shows to me and to most of the girls he goes out
with. And then there's his “animal side” Kyle called it, and this
he shows to a few select girls. There is one in Luray, Kyle said,
another in Strasburg.

I was shocked. “Matt?” I said. “Matt
Riley?”

Kyle said, “It's you he really wants. He
gets all steamed up around you and he has to have someplace he can
let it out.”