DEADLY VEILS BOOK ONE: SHATTERING TRUTHS – 37

Chapter Thirty-seven 

June, 1988 

T 

he cedar arbor at our garden’s entrance had a Moorish arch design and looked joyously majestic, with climbing roses in vibrant orange velvet. I cut one just to hold and breathe in, and then caught a glimpse of a sparrow that had landed on the branch of a maple tree. The tiny bird hadn’t landed quite right. I watched it try to steady itself, and then it flew away, seemingly flustered. I smiled. 

It was a gorgeous day. I felt better than I had in a while. 

Walking around to the porch, I could see the gerbera daisies my grandmother had placed in a ceramic vase upon the windowsill. Over the winter, she’d planted those in our garden for Angie. They were yellow and cheerful, and I knew Angie would like them. My high school graduation had been bittersweet without her, but her parents had been there with us, teary-eyed and looking happy for me. As for Angie, she would be happy to know I had endured the anxiety of medical testing, and I was okay. Of course, a ruptured hymen proved nothing, but I knew now that Phil and Sergio had gotten what they’d wanted. At least I could take comfort in the fact that there had been no sign of them. I figured I had made the right decision going to the police that night, and it must have scared them off. 

I sat on the porch bench and held the rose to my heart, sniffing it again. My life, for the moment, seemed as fresh as that beautiful bloom. 

In my heart, I knew I had conquered something, jumped a hurdle or two. Remembering who I was and what I’d wanted had been among the first steps, but I was in it for the long haul; I knew that now. Whatever I had to do to heal, I was ready.  

My mom pulled up and emerged from the car, looking lovely as always. 

“I thought you would be up in your room,” she said, climbing the stairs. 

I told her I had written a lot that day. 

She joined me on the bench. “That’s good. And fresh air is good.” 

We sat in silence for a moment, and then I asked her to tell me again, how she met my father. 

“Ah, you know that story,” she said. “I met him when I was learning how to speak English. He was in my class. We used to pass notes back and forth, trying to make use of the English we learned.” 

“Aw.” 

“I was living with my aunt and uncle. After we got married, I stayed here with Grandma and Grandpa, and your father went to Vietnam.” 

“See, you made it through a lot together,” I said, “and you would have done that with or without that psychic.” 

She shrugged. “Maybe.” 

“Are you still going there?” 

“Nah, but, Danielle, let me tell you something. There are some phonies out there, but this man was not. He helped your brother. I believe that. He helped my marriage.” 

“Why did your marriage need help?” 

She waved. “It all started with a misunderstanding. Your grandmother always made accusations whenever I went somewhere. He started to believe her, and he went to lunch with a secretary from his place. Things like that happened, but neither of us cheated.” 

“Well, good, and we don’t need any more secrets either. Secrets can be deadly. There was no reason not to tell me that Robbie pushed me down the stairs.” 

“I know.” 

“Does Daddy know I know?” 

“He knows. We love you, Danielle. We don’t want you to feel hurt, not you, or your brothers.” She gave me a tight shoulder hug. “We’re proud of you always, and we love you.” 

“I love you both, too,” I said, “but his temper scares me, and that’s not okay.” 

“No, it’s not,” she agreed, “but I’m going to tell you one more thing. No matter what he says … when he came back from Vietnam, there were days I used to find him on the bed, curled up in a ball and crying. Believe me—he went through hell. He keeps it all inside, and, no, it’s not okay, but your father is a good man, a very good man. He’s the best.” 

I felt that emotional wave. The heartache came, and the tears. Funny that I knew this, how good a man he was, and that I loved him so dearly, yet I still feared him. I knew, too, that that fear was justified. 

We shared another quiet moment, and I told her about the bird I’d seen earlier. “It’s funny,” I said. “I felt bad watching it struggle. Do you think that’s what it’s like for God when he watches us?” 

“I think so,” she replied, smiling. 

“And sometimes I feel like that little bird, like how the hell do you do this …?” 

She laughed and hugged me again, tight to her bosom. “You’re going to be fine on any branch of any tree you land on, Danielle,” she said. “I believe in you.” 

That meant the world to me. 

Deadly Veils Book One: Shattering Truths was originally published as Deadly Veils: Book One: Provenance of Bondage copyright © October 2015 by Kyrian Lyndon. The revised edition, Deadly Veils: Book One: Shattering Truths was published in December 2016. Cover design by KH Koehler Design.