V.C. Andrews - Secrets 02 by Secrets in the Shadows

Author:Secrets in the Shadows
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-01-17T01:27:09+00:00

Epilogue

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Before we left the clinic that day, we did have lunch with my mother. She showed us her room and her other paintings, which were mainly scenes in nature and animals, much like the work I had done.

She was even more buoyant, talking constantly and eager to show us everything she could, doing just what my father had described—making it seem as if the entire institution was devoted to her every wish and need. Interspersed with all that were her references to things she and my aunt Zipporah had done at school, the comments made as if they were still in high school. As Dr. Simons had told us, she didn't make any reference to any of the tragic events.

When she made any mention of her mother, she made it casually, offhanded, almost an afterthought. Neither I nor Aunt Zipporah asked her if her mother had visited her.

Lila Mills, the head nurse who had come to tell us it was time for lunch, came to get my mother and take her to some therapy session. Her reluctance to leave us surprised Lila, but she was gently insistent, and after we promised to return very soon, my mother said good-bye.

"I hope you'll come back, too," she told me.

“I will," I said. This was a promise I wasn't afraid to make.

Her face brightened even more. She started away, stopped and then returned to hug me.

Aunt Zipporah's eyes were ready to explode with tears, but she held back, and we both went to see Dr. Simons, who gave me the greatest gift of all.

First, we described our visit, especially my exchanges with my mother. When I told her about the painting and why I thought it was interesting, her face reflected great interest. She asked me questions about my life with my grandparents, deep, prodding questions that. I was reluctant to answer, but I could see from the expression on Aunt Zipporah's face that I should. After a while, however, I felt as if I was being treated as a patient. Dr. Simons could either see that or hear it in my voice.

"Forgive me for being so personal," she said,

"but it's all part of the puzzle I' rn here to put together."

She leaned back in her chair and was silent for a few moments, clearly deciding whether or not to say what she was about to say.

"You're both so clearly tied to everything that happens to Karen, that has happened to her; that I have no trouble connecting the dots. I know as much as can be known about her youth, her relationship with her mother and with you, Mrs. James. I don't know all that much yet about her relationship with your brother, but I feel it's coming more and more.

"As you aptly put it when you described the painting to me, Alice, your mother is emerging from the attic. The first step is to want to, to look longingly at the outside world. It's terrifying for her."

"Just as it has been for me," I said.

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