House Of Secrets by Tracie Peterson Page A

times I’d had to call Dad in New York or when Judith had been calling to reach him at home. That was the sum total of my relationship with the woman. I knew she and Dad worked together and had for some time, but other than that, I didn’t know much.
    “It’s hardly the kind of subject matter you want to discuss in front of a stranger.” I saw that Geena had cut up fresh strawberries and cantaloupe, and was now finishing up a stack of pancakes. “But she’s not going to be a stranger for long,” I said. I drank the last of my coffee and walked to the pot for a refill. “We might as well eat and figure out what we want to do.”
    “I can’t believe he’d just leave like that,” Piper muttered. She pushed past me to get to the refrigerator. “He clearly doesn’t care about what we think.”
    “Maybe he got a call and she’s coming in on an earlier flight,” I offered, trying hard to be the voice of reason.
    “He should have let us know.” Piper took out the orange juice and slammed the door closed. “He shouldn’t have remarried.”
    “Maybe not,” Geena agreed, “but we can’t change that now. The question is . . . can we speak freely in front of our new stepmother?”
    I made my way to the table. “Surely we’ll have some time alone with Dad. I wouldn’t want to discuss any of this with Judith. She may be his wife, but she probably doesn’t know all of the problems mom had.”
    “Do we even know what kind of problems mom had?” Geena asked, bringing the pancakes. Piper followed with the orange juice, while Geena made another trip for the fruit and a can of whipped cream.
    I wanted to confess all that I knew, but I still hesitated. “Mom clearly had depression,” I said. “I remember times when she would just hole up in her room and cry for hours on end.” And I was left to take care of my siblings—even when I was much too young to be able to do the job properly.
    “Did she get . . . help . . . treatment for it?” Piper asked hesitantly.
    I knew I had to tread carefully. “I think she tried to work through it. There were other things that bothered her as well.”
    “Like being paranoid over a serial killer coming to take your children?” Geena asked.
    “Exactly. Mom . . . Mom had a lot of struggles.”
    The phone rang, stealing our attention. Piper went to answer it while I helped myself to breakfast. I thought of Dad praying over the food, but didn’t offer to repeat it. I wasn’t sure I even knew how. I realized, strangely enough, that I often talked to God internally, but my comments weren’t at all in an attitude of thanksgiving.
    “Yeah, we noticed,” I heard Piper say. “And when do you plan to be back?”
    I focused on my food, hesitant to eavesdrop on this conversation. I couldn’t answer for Geena, but a strange sensation came over me. It was like nothing I’d ever known. I looked at Piper and for a moment was transported back in time.
    “Bailee, go watch your sisters,” Momma had commanded.
    I hadn’t wanted to go. I wanted to listen to her talk on the phone. But I was scared for some reason. . . .
    The image passed, and I simply sat there, staring at Piper as she hung up the phone.
    “Dad says there’s been a delay with Judith’s flight. She’ll be in later this evening, so he’s just going to stay over in Seattle and handle some business.”
    “Rather than come here and have to face us,” Geena said before stuffing her mouth with pancakes and fruit.
    “He said he plans to sit down and talk to us when he gets back. In fact, he asked that we definitely set aside the time. He figures around nine tonight.”
    I nodded. “That’s fine by me. I have some work to keep me busy.” I began to eat in earnest as Geena and Piper discussed how to spend their day.
    “I have a book to read,” Piper said.
    “As do I,” Geena replied. “But I think I’d rather go shopping. You wanna come?”
    “Where?” Piper questioned.
    “I thought maybe we