House Of Secrets Read Online Free Page A

door. She and Geena had gone for a little walk while I remained in the car.
    Geena climbed into the front seat while Piper got in back. “They said it will take an hour to get over to Bremerton. Couldn’t we have just driven it?”
    “With traffic and the distance it would have taken longer,” I told her. The cars began to disembark the ferry heading into Seattle. It would only be a few minutes before we’d be able to drive onto the Kitsap and head to Bremerton.
    “I always liked the ferry ride,” Piper said. “I used to pretend it was a great ship taking me far away.”
    The cars began to inch forward and in no time at all they had us loaded. The marine highway was extremely efficient, I had to give them that much.
    “Are you coming upstairs with me?” Geena asked. “I want to get something to drink.”
    I looked at her for a moment and shook my head. She looked nothing like a lawyer or professional of any sort. Instead, wearing black skinny jeans tucked into ankle boots, a mottled red-print tee, and blazer, Geena looked more fashion model than studious lawyer material. She wrapped a black scarf around her throat and turned to Piper.
    “How about you?”
    “Sure, I’ll come,” Piper said, opening the door with care. “If I can squeeze out. They sure park us in here tight.”
    “I’m just gonna sit here and doze,” I told them. “You can bring me some coffee.”
    I reclined the seat and settled back. Frankly, I had a twinge of guilt for not going with them. I’d always felt a strange need to protect them—to watch over them. Dad used to say it was because I was so sensitive, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something more. Why should a child feel it was her responsibility to take care of her siblings—of her family? I couldn’t remember ever being free from that thought. Now, as we headed ever so slowly from the harbor, the sensation of guilt coupled with duty left me feeling exhausted and wary. The days to come were ones I dreaded. But like a fatal attraction I was drawn to see them through.
    Funny, the thought of “fatal attractions” brought me back to Mark. We had worked together for so long now that we could very nearly read each other’s minds when it came to the projects at hand. I couldn’t help but think of the time when he took me with him to Long Island, where we met with some Kennedy cousin or in-law. She wanted to write a book about being a nobody in a family of somebodies. Mark and I listened to her thoughts on what she wanted to write and almost immediately had the same idea for how the book might come together. That happened a lot.
    We liked a lot of the same books—the same foods. I had little trouble talking to him about anything . . . so long as it wasn’t personal. We could discuss history, politics, movies, and of course books, and never feel a moment’s unease. But just let the conversation drift into personal experiences . . . family . . . relationships, and I was lost. I tried to imagine myself explaining my trepidation about this trip. How could I open the crypt to the family skeletons and not expect Mark to go running in the opposite direction? He was a good man, but he wasn’t perfect. No one was. Well . . . Mark would try to remind me that God was perfect, but even God turned away that night fifteen years ago.
    Closing my eyes, I tried not to think of those last days at the summer house, but I couldn’t help it. I could see it all as if it were yesterday.
    “What’s Daddy doing?” Geena had asked.
    We girls were gathered on the upstairs landing that overlooked the open downstairs living area. “He’s making Momma her cocoa,” I told them.
    “I want some,” Piper said, her six-year-old voice a little louder than I would have liked.
    Of course, given the fact that Momma was playing her rock music as loud as the stereo would allow, I didn’t figure Dad would hear us.
    “We’re supposed to be asleep,” eight-year-old Geena