Chapter 5 of The Secret

 

I left for Denver the next day. Throughout the flight, my brain was still reeling from all this sudden information that had been dumped on me the past days. Was it betrayal, or were Mom and Kayla justified in hiding her survival, and the existence of my nephew for over a decade? 

 The day was a nice, warm late Summer day as I got off my flight in Denver.  I decided that I needed to think about my next move, going in guns blazing was not a good idea.  After renting a car,  my stomach reminded me with a growl  that I hadn’t eaten since that morning. I bought a burger from McDonald’s and found a small park near Kayla’s address to eat and read a newspaper. I sat at a bench in the corner, and began to map out what to do next.  Since I had her address, should  I go directly to Kayla’s house, or  observe from afar first? 

Then I noticed a group of boys playing basketball at one of the park’s courts, and I saw him.

It was my nephew Devin. His face from the photo was etched into my mind, and it was confirmed when another of the boys shouted “Nice shot, Dev!” as he made a three pointer.

You just don’t go up to a kid and say, “Hi, I’m your uncle you probably didn’t know that you had.” So looking at my watch, another idea came to me: it was late afternoon, and maybe Kayla would come to pick him up. To make myself as scarce as I could, I got up and walked around the jogging track for a bit.

An hour or so passed, and nobody showed up, so I decided to go back to the bench, take a break, and wait some more. My patience was rewarded when a silver Chevy drove up, parked, and when the driver’s door opened, and the “ghost” I came to confront stepped out.

The curly auburn hair, the slight limp in her left leg from her knee injury that had not totally been repaired  by surgery, and the sound of  her voice when she said “Come on Dev, let’s get home for dinner, I found a new recipe I want to try.” were what gave her away.

For being a dead person, Kayla looked like the years had treated her well.

Keeping my head down in my newspaper,  I watched as Devin loaded his sports gear into the trunk of Kayla’s car, told his friends goodbye, then the both of them got in and drove off.

Thinking that for whatever reason Kayla was on the run, she might be a little paranoid if she saw a car following her too close, I decided to give her a head start. It was now after dark. After driving around and getting the layout of her neighborhood,  I went and rented a motel room for the night, and settled in. After looking online at what time of the morning classes started at the local high school, my plan formed. Devin was an innocent part of all of this madness, so it was probably a good idea to go to Kayla at a time where he would probably be in school. I know I would die from shock if I learned that my mother had faked her death with the help of my own grandmother, and was hiding from some danger that she had been keeping from me  all my life.

I called Jenna later that night and gave her an update.

“So you saw her?”

“Yes, Jen, I did. She looks like you’d expect her to in her 30s, but she hasn't changed that much. Kayla still looks like the 18 year old I remember her as.”

“What’s next?”

“Tomorrow after school starts, I’m heading to her house and getting to the bottom of this. She better have a good explanation of why both she and Mom kept me in the dark. I know I was only 12, but I could have kept this a secret.”

“I got your back, Jase. If you need me to come down, I’ll get a ticket as soon as you tell me.”

“Thanks, babe. If I need you, I’ll call. But if things are as dangerous as Mom claimed, I want  very few people to be  involved. I don’t need you to possibly be in any line of fire.” 

“OK, I understand. Good luck, I love you.”

“Love you too.”

After ending the call, I took a shower and tried to get some sleep,  but sleep eluded me for much of the night. What was I going to say to her? It certainly wouldn’t be “Hey Sis, long time no see.” I couldn’t decide on what words to use, so I would just wing it when the time came.

The next morning at 7:45, I set out for Kayla’s house. Luckily, there was a spot across the street from her place where I could park without having to use her driveway. Taking a few minutes to catch my breath, I did the only thing I could think of: I walked up to her door, and knocked. When Kayla opened the door, her mouth dropped in total shock.

“Hello, Kay.”

Chapter 4 of The Secret

 Lynne heard my gasp and came around the corner. “Jason? What is it?”

I couldn’t speak. I just handed her the photo and the sonogram.

She stared at them, her eyebrows knitting together as her brain tried to process what she was looking at. “Wait... no. Tell me you didn't know about this. Is Kayla... alive?”

“No, Lynne, I had no idea!” My voice cracked. “What the hell is this? Why would Mom keep her own daughter's survival a secret from us for years? And how do I suddenly have a nephew?”

Lynne’s hands shook slightly as she set the sonogram down. “Look to see if there are more.”

We dug back into the stack. Four months after the sonogram was a photo of Kayla holding a newborn, looking tired but radiating a soft, fierce joy.

Printed on the back in Mom's shaky handwriting: Say hello to Devin Charles Winters.

We kept digging, tracking a life told in sporadic snapshots. The newest photo was postmarked just a month before Mom died. It showed a lean, tall teenager mid-stride, kicking a soccer ball into the net.

Just like his mom, the caption read. Maybe someday you can meet him, if it ever becomes safe.

I sank back against the floor, my brain racing to make sense of the pieces.

Kayla had been the captain of her high school soccer team until a torn ACL ended her career. She’d been a normal kid—stubborn, a little rebellious, but normal. What could a teenager possibly get mixed up in that was bad enough to fake her own death, abandon her family, and vanish into thin air?

And what made Mom decide it was safe enough to write to her, but too dangerous to ever tell me?

Lynne and I spent five exhausting hours that evening looking through every piece of paperwork Mom left that we could find. Acting on a hunch, I went through her bank records and receipts. What I found left my head swimming even more. She had set up an account where she deposited a bit of her paycheck each month, separate from her own checking account. We also found receipts for money transfers to the same Denver address where Kayla was living.

“She wasn’t just staying in touch, Jason,” Lynne murmured. “She was funding her.”

“Looks like it,” I said while running my hand through my hair.

Then we discovered another letter—this one with my name on it, in Mom’s handwriting, dated two weeks before she died.

I opened it and read:

Jason:

If you’re reading this, I must be gone. I knew something was wrong with me, I’d been having chest pains on and off the past few weeks, and as a nurse, I knew what that could mean. If you’ve read all the letters and seen the pictures, you know that Kayla is alive and well and living in Denver raising Devin. Go to her, she can give you a better idea of what’s going on than I can. If you do go, be careful. Even though it’s been over a decade, Kayla is still in danger, and you may be too if certain people find out. I’m sorry, please forgive both of us.

Love, Mom

Mom, Kay, what is going on? What danger?

After spending hours digesting what I’d just read, I decided to call Jenna and tell her this insane story.

“What? Your sister is alive, in hiding, and you have a nephew? And your mom knew about it all this time and helped out?”

“Yeah, Jen, that’s what it looks like.”

“Babe, what are you gonna do?”

“I’m going to go straight to the source. As soon as this call is over, I’m booking a flight to Denver, and knocking on the door of someone whose empty grave I’ve been visiting the past 14 years.”

Chapter 3 Of The Secret

 For the second time in a decade, I had to travel to the cemetery to bury a family member. Mom was laid to rest next to Kayla.  Mother and daughter together for eternity.

Jenna, Lynne, and several of Mom’s friends and co-workers attended the service. Once again, Dad did not show up–one of the few good things he had ever done for me in my life.

My bosses at Jackson were very understanding, telling me to take as much time off as I needed to get Mom’s affairs in order. Jenna stayed with me for a few days before heading back to Pittsburgh to check on our house, leaving Lynne and me to sort through everything.

That was when the bombshell dropped.

Mom had left me the house I grew up in, along with her bank and retirement accounts. Between painting a few rooms to prep the house for renters and cutting through endless financial red tape, I started cleaning out Mom’s bedroom closet. Tucked in the back was a heavy box filled with letters.

Skimming through them, I noticed almost all carried the same return address: K. Winters, Denver, Colorado. I assumed it was just an old friend, until I pulled out a larger envelope dated twelve years ago, stamped “Photo enclosed, do not fold.”

Inside was a sonogram and a brief note written in a handwriting that shouldn't exist:

Mom, you’re going to be a grandmother. It’s a boy! – K

My lungs seized. Sliding my fingers deeper into the envelope, I pulled out a second photo—and the world tilted on its axis.

Even though she looked more than ten years older than the day she vanished, there was no mistaking the face staring back at me. 

It was Kayla.

Chapter 2 Of The Secret

 

Chapter 2

The next 6  years passed by as if nothing had happened. Mom and I settled into life together, just the two of us. We would make weekly visits to Kayla’s grave, and tell her how  much we missed her.  Mom continued to work all sorts of crazy hours to support us, and I focused on my studies in school. 

I graduated near the top of my class in high school, and won scholarships to the University of Maryland, where I graduated with a degree in Computer Science and Software Development.  There were so many job opportunities thrown my way, I spent weeks and weeks analyzing  the pros and cons of each, before finally settling on one that would get me out of town, and start a new life away from all the bad memories.  That place was Pittsburgh.

My final decision was Jackson Software, a five-year- old gaming and software company. The performance metrics they sent over convinced me the company had genuine  potential.  After arranging to find a small apartment in the middle of town, I left Baltimore behind and headed towards the future. 

It was at Jackson that I met Jenna, who was also working as a developer there. We worked on a few projects together.  Late night coding and debugging sessions became dinners and movies,  and soon we were an item. Our relationship became strong enough that we decided to pool our money together to buy us a nice house in the outskirts of town, and life was going well.

Until the call came in seven years after Pittsburgh became my home, and that set into motion events that made sure that my life into a storm I never saw coming.

The call was from my Aunt Lynne, Mom’s younger sister.

“Jason,” she said, sobbing. “You need to get back  here as soon as you can. A couple of hours ago, Janet had a heart attack. The doctors say it’s a major one, and I hate to say this, but they aren't sure she’ll make it. She’s still unconscious, I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

Holding back my own tears, I said ,“I’m on the next flight to BWI.”

I was so glad that Jenna was by my side. She said she was coming with me, and we got the earliest flight we could.

But it was too late.

“Janet passed away an hour ago,” Lynne told me when she met us after we landed.

The hard work she did to support our family had finally gotten the best of her at age 59.

First Kayla, now Mom. I just slumped to the curb and cried for I don’t know how long, with both Jenna and Lynne embracing me. 

Chapter 1 of a new story-The Secret

 Families aren’t supposed to keep secrets, are they? At least that’s what I thought.

My name is Jason Tillman. At twenty-nine, I thought I had finally built the kind of quiet stability I’d always wanted. I have a great job developing software here in Pittsburgh, a beautiful three-bedroom house in a neighborhood we love, and my girlfriend, Jenna, to share it with. Life is good. Or, at least, it was. 

If you want to understand this story, which I still have trouble understanding myself,  I need to tell you a bit about my family.

I was born and raised in  Baltimore. My mom, Janet Tillman, raised me and my older sister Kayla, who was six years older than me, as a single mother. My father, who I won’t dignify by giving out his name, left for parts unknown with a female co-worker when I was two.

To this day, I have no desire to make any contact with him, not that he’s ever tried.

Mom worked her ass off to provide for us kids, taking up multiple shifts as a nurse at the local clinic. We weren’t rich, but we had a good life and each other.

I still remember that day when I was 12 and everything began to fall apart.

May 22, I can never forget that date no matter how hard I try. There was nothing but silence as I stepped up onto the porch.  Mom was rocking on the porch swing, her arms wrapped around her waist as she silently wept..

  “Mom, what’s wrong?” I said, a feeling of dread settling in my chest.

“Sit down, Jason.” Any time Mom said that, something not so good was about to follow.

  “It’s Kayla–she’s gone.”

What?  Did I just really hear that? I had given Kayla a hug this morning before heading to the bus. How could she be gone? It just wouldn’t register in my brain.

It was  just then  that I noticed that Kayla’s car was gone. She was usually home when I got off of school, since her job at a local restaurant didn’t start until 6.

“What do you mean gone?”  I asked as things started going into slow motion. Mom’s answer hit me with a feeling that I just can’t describe.

“She was in a car crash a couple of hours ago while she was going to her friend Allie’s house–she didn’t make it. ”

I thought that I was going to be physically ill, and almost fainted from the shock. Our neighbor Rich, who had come over after hearing what was going on, ran over to our house, put a steadying hand on me and helped me to a chair on the porch, and held a glass of water for Mom.

I was totally devastated. Kayla was not only my big sister, but one of my closest friends. She filled in when Mom had to work extra shifts,  fixing meals, helping me with homework, and attending school functions when Mom couldn’t. Our family seemed to be cursed.

We held Kayla’s funeral a week later. I really don’t know how I kept from losing my mind, but someone had to keep their cool. Friends and family gathered to help give Kayla the send off she deserved. The only thing that was missing was our Dad, but I would have had him thrown out if he showed up. 

With that, life attempted to return itself to normal, though it never really would be.

Chapter 12 Of Where Her Story Met Mine-The Conclusion

 I slept in until eleven the next morning, needing that long for the adrenaline to finally fade. When I checked my phone, a text from Sierra was already waiting: Had a great time! Hope we can do it again 😀

“Me 2 😀,”  I shot back.

Right then, I decided to throw caution to the wind. It was time to spill my heart out to her. Now, I just had to find the perfect moment.

That moment presented itself the following Tuesday.

“Hey, wanna hang out with me at the park across from my place?” Sierra asked as we navigated the crowded hallway between classes. “I go there to sketch sometimes. It’s a quiet place to just sit, talk, and admire this gorgeous weather.”

My heart did a sudden, violent flip against my ribs. This was it.

“Sure,” I replied, trying to sound completely casual. “Nothing else going on, and I don’t have any homework.”

I raced home, threw on a clean shirt, and flew back down the stairs. I nearly leveled my mom as she walked through the front door, fresh off a shift at work.

“See you later Mom, going to the park with Sierra!” I yelled over my shoulder.

I glanced back just in time to catch the look on her face. Wise. Knowing. Yeah, she definitely knew what was on my mind.

My hands were suddenly sweaty, and the casual cool I’d practiced for the past few days evaporated as I got on my bike and headed out.

When I got to the park, Sierra was already there, transferring to the bench, her wheelchair off to the side but close by. She pulled her sketchbook out, beginning to do a drawing of people passing by in the park.

          “Have a seat,” Sierra said while patting the bench seat.

I sat down, trying to steady my breathing.

“I’ve got something to show you,” she said, flipping past a few pages of charcoal landscapes until she hit a vibrant, colored-pencil piece. “I call it ‘wishful thinking’.”

I stared at the page, and the air completely left my lungs.

It was a drawing of us from the dance. Only this time, there was no wheelchair. It was just the two of us, on our feet, spinning beneath the canopy of lights. I looked from the paper to Sierra's face, my heart melting into a puddle in my chest.

We both started to talk at the same time.

“You go first,” Sierra smiled.

I took a deep breath, watching the world shrink down to just the two of us. “Sierra, these past few months have been the best times of my life. You are one of the strongest, most incredible people I’ve ever known. I really, really like you—maybe even love you. So... will you be my girlfriend? I just—I don't want to lose what we have, but I want it to be more."

Sierra got a massive grin on her face and reached out, squeezing my hand.

“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for a month," she laughed, though her eyes suddenly grew serious. She gripped my fingers a little tighter. "But I need you to know something. Back in Miami, before the accident, I had a boyfriend. As soon as he found out I’d never walk again, he bailed. Called me 'damaged goods.' So listen to me: if I ever find out you’re asking me out of pity, I will drag your reputation so deep into the mud you’ll never dig it out.”

The fierceness in her voice caught me off guard. I looked at her, the playfulness draining from my face. Her heart had been broken by some jerk before, but that would not be repeated by me.

 "Sierra, I swear to you, pity has nothing to do with this. I'm here because of you, because of the way you make me feel when I’m around you.." I softened, giving her a small, mock salute to break the tension. "But understood, loud and clear." 

“Close your eyes, and I’ll give you your answer,” she said softly.

I closed my eyes, felt her hand cup my chin, and she pressed her lips to mine in a kiss that made fireworks go off behind my eyelids.

When she pulled back, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. "So... I'm guessing that's a yes?"

"Smart guy," she teased, resting her head against my shoulder as we looked out over the park.

We spent the rest of our time just talking about what came next. We were most definitely going to schedule that dinner with our parents that we talked about a while back,  and I promised her that I’d ask my dad to build a ramp to our porch, widen some doorways, and put in some rails so that our visits would not be limited to her place, school, or outdoors.

“Sierra Duncan, you have just made me one happy guy.”

“Jimmy Patterson, you’ve made me one happy girl.”

The rest of the afternoon passed us by, and when it was time to go home, I escorted her down the path to her house, instead of letting her travel by herself.

When we got to her front door, I leaned down and kissed her again.

“I love you,” I said, running my hands through her hair.

“I love you too,” she said while taking my hand in hers and gently rubbing it.

And with that, the best day (so far) of our lives came to a close.

They say that high school romance never lasts.

I say never say never

Check back in in a few years.

Chapter 11 Of Where Her Story Met Mine

 Chapter 11

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next two weeks went on as usual: school, friends, home. I prepared for the dance,  planning about what I could do to make it the night of Sierra’s life, and maybe after the music died down, I’d tell her how I felt about her.

The dance was on a Friday night. That day, during lunch, I asked if she was ready.

“I’m ready to roll, literally and figuratively. I’ve got a surprise for you I think you might like,” she winked.

“OK, thanks for the heads up. I can’t wait to see how things go.”

Homecoming started at 8:00 PM, and I got there a bit early, anxious to see what would happen at the dance.  I was chatting with Tom and his date Tara when Sierra wheeled into the gym. I saw what her surprise was.

 I was used to seeing her in jeans and a t-shirt, but for tonight,  she had on a very  attractive light  blue  dress, and her hair was tied back with a matching hair tie. 

The gym’s colored party lights caught the fabric of her dress, and suddenly the whole room faded away and it was just Sierra in the spotlight.   I had to make myself breathe again, and my throat went so dry, it took me a minute to speak.

“Sierra, you look great,” I said, smiling.

“Thanks, you clean up pretty good yourself,” she said, gesturing to my best dress shirt and pants.

“Thanks. I only break them out for special occasions.”

We stayed on the sidelines, then I had an idea.

“Hey, let’s dance…sort of.”

“OK, what’s the plan?”

When the next slow dance music came up,  I took the handles of her wheelchair, and pushed her in a slow circle. Sierra smiled,  Seeing her smile like that made the nerves completely vanish. For those few minutes, we were just two people sharing a slow dance; it was as if the wheelchair didn’t exist.

After that, we headed to the snack bar to get something to munch on.

“Thanks for that,” she said. “I didn’t think that I’d ever be involved in any form of dancing again.” The look of sheer happiness on her face made my heart speed up again.

“You’re welcome. It’s not fun being left out of things. Everyone deserves to have some fun.”

The rest of the evening went by like a flash, I don’t think either of us wanted it to end. 

I wanted it to be the beginning.