The House of Secrets. Terry Lynn Thomas

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СКАЧАТЬ Matthew Geisler, Ph.D., M.D. The driver narrowed his beady eyes into slits and stared at me. ‘I know you. You’re the girl what accused her father of murder. Jack Bennett. You his daughter, Sarah?’

      ‘I didn’t accuse him of anything—’

      ‘You should be ashamed of yourself, testifying against your own flesh and blood. You’ve ruined that man’s life. A daughter ain’t supposed to do that.’

      What about my life? I wanted to shout at him, never mind that Jack Bennett was not my actual flesh and blood.

      He dropped my suitcase. When it hit the ground, the lid popped open and everything I owned, including my undergarments, spilled out onto the wet walkway. He looked at my clothes – my linen underwear, my garter belts, and my last precious pair of silk stockings – as they lay scattered about then turned on his heel and walked away.

      ‘Wait a minute,’ I shouted. ‘You get back here—’

      I stopped myself. I didn’t want him to come back and help me. I didn’t want him to touch my things.

      ‘Buzz off, lady. If I had known who you were, I wouldn’t have let you in my cab.’

      ‘I hope you don’t think I’m going to pay.’

      ‘I’d starve in the streets before I’d take money from the likes of you.’

      He took one final glance at the house, spat again, jumped in his taxi, and screeched off.

      I bent down and started stuffing my clothes back into my suitcase, casting a glance at the big windows on the front of the house, praying that no one watched me. The cold concrete hurt my knees. As I stood up, the snag that started at my kneecap crept up my thigh. Another stocking ruined. Soon I would be forced to forego stockings altogether and use pancake make-up on my legs. I could always switch to trousers, but I hadn’t any money for clothes. Just as the case snapped shut, the front door opened. A young woman with grey eyes framed in dark lashes welcomed me.

      ‘Miss Bennett, I presume? They’re expecting you. Won’t you follow me, please?’ She picked up my suitcase and led me into a grand foyer. Two staircases, one on each side of the room, swept up to the second floor. The vast room had floors of marble, walls of honey-coloured wood, and not one stick of furniture save a tiny desk near the front door and a grand piano tucked into a corner. ‘This way, please.’ The young woman’s voice echoed as she set my suitcase down near the desk.

      I followed her down a short corridor lined on each side with wooden doors. We stopped before one of them, and she knocked upon it twice.

      A man’s voice said, ‘Come in.’

      The young woman opened the door and I followed her into a sitting room of sorts, where a man and a woman sat on an overstuffed brocade sofa facing a fireplace filled with a sweet-smelling wood. When we entered the room, they both stood, but the woman covered the stack of papers that sat before her with a writing tablet, as if she didn’t want me to see them. A plate with crumbs and a half-eaten pastry sat on a tray on the low coffee table. At the sight of the pastry, my stomach rumbled. If either of them heard it, they gave no indication. A coffeepot with an unused mug, along with a creamer and sugar bowl, also sat on the tray.

      ‘Thank you, Chloe,’ the woman said.

      The woman stood three inches taller than the man. Her brown hair was laced with grey. It curled around her face, softening her strong jaw, prominent nose and full lips. She had the clear skin of someone who ate well and took plenty of exercise. She reached out to the man, who grabbed her hand, squeezed it, and let it go. All of this happened in an instant. I wouldn’t have noticed it at all had I not been paying attention.

      ‘Sarah Bennett.’ The man walked towards me with his hand extended. He took mine and shook it. ‘I’m Matthew Geisler. We’re so glad that you’ve come. This is my wife, Bethany.’

      ‘How do you do, Sarah? Please, sit.’

      Bethany waved at the sofa across from them. On the couch between them lay yesterday’s newspaper. A horrible picture of me coming out of the courthouse graced the front page, with a caption underneath that read Jack Bennett Found Not Guilty!

      Jack Bennett’s picture had been placed next to mine. He sat on a chair, dressed in a tweed blazer, holding his latest best seller in his hand. He smiled in that unique way of his that had disarmed everyone who had ever come in contact with him. He didn’t look like a murderer. I couldn’t argue with that sentiment, especially since the side-to-side placement of our photographs showed me in such a bad light. My pale face and gaunt cheeks accentuated the haunted look in my eyes. To the casual observer, I looked like a young woman burdened by the task of living, while Jack Bennett looked like the beloved son of the City by the Bay.

      Jack Bennett’s books continued to fly off the shelves. The murder trial had fuelled the publicity fire that raged around him, and he had been exonerated of murdering his wife and his mother-in-law. The sensational trial had garnered him notoriety and wealth beyond measure. Jack Bennett had been tried and set free. His fans had sentenced me to a lifetime of contempt and loathing. Waitresses refused to serve me. Shop girls turned their noses up at me.

      ‘Let’s not worry about that, Sarah.’ Dr Geisler turned the paper over. ‘I know what that man did to you. That is of no concern to me. I believe we can help each other.’

      Bethany Geisler poured thick, black coffee into the empty mug. ‘Cream and sugar?’

      I nodded and took the mug when she handed it to me, hoping that the milky beverage would stave off the hunger pangs. If I didn’t get this job, I would have to use the last of my money to get out of town and go somewhere where no one recognized me.

      Dr Geisler watched me as I sipped. The hair at his temples had started to turn grey. His cheeks were sharp, as if he hadn’t had enough to eat in quite some time. His dark hair came to a widow’s peak, making him look like a romantic character from a gothic novel. Bethany sat next to him, fidgeting with her wedding ring. She didn’t speak, but her gaze lay heavy upon me.

      ‘Zeke is here, Sarah.’ Dr Geisler watched me as he spoke.

      Time stopped. The mug slipped out of my hand and onto the rug. Hot coffee burned my legs. A dark stain spread on the carpet near my feet. My mind raced back to the previous October, and the circumstances that had thrown Zeke and me together. He had saved me then, and I liked to think that I had helped him in some small way. I thought we had fallen in love and that our feelings for each other were mutual.

      Zeke had been honest about himself. He had a job that he couldn’t discuss with me, a job that took him to unknown places for long periods of time. At least he had left me a note explaining why he had to leave. I, in my naivety, had accepted his conditions, thinking that I could love him and move on with my life when his mysterious job took him away to places unknown. I had been wrong. I had spent six months trying to forget him, making a practice of pushing all thoughts of him to the back of my mind. My efforts had been in vain. One mention of his name, and all the emotions came rushing back. ‘I’m sorry.’ I reached down to pick up the broken mug.

      ‘Don’t worry,’ Bethany said. ‘We’ll get that cleaned up. My husband didn’t mean to startle you.’

      ‘Forgive me for being blunt, my dear,’ Dr Geisler said.

      Zeke. Here. Tears welled in my eyes. I wiped them away just as they threatened to spill over СКАЧАТЬ