Secrets in the Shadows Read Online Free PDF Page B

"Where's the new painting?"
I stepped up to an easel and uncovered the picture. He approached and studied it as if he were truly an art critic, nodding and smiling.
"I see what Dad means. It's very good, Alice. You've really blended those colors well, and I love the sort of -kinetic energy you have in the turn of the leaves. Is this any particular tree on the property?"
"Yes," I said, moving toward the windows that faced the rear of the house.
He stepped alongside.
"See across the field to the left?"
"Oh yes."
"When I'm up here for a while, looking out the window, concentrating, I see things that would ordinarily be missed," I told him
"Really? Like what?"
"Things," I said. I took a breath. "Things I imagine my mother must have seen spending hours and hours alone, looking at the same scene."
He was silent.
Had I violated some unwritten rule by mentioning her? Was this the end of our special time together?
"Actually," he said, "I'd like to talk to you about all that."
Was I hearing correctly? I dared not utter a word, a syllable, even breathe.
"Dad . . . and Mom are worried about you, Alice. It's part of why I worked out this short holiday for Rachel, the boys and myself."
"What is?"
"You," he said.
"What do you mean, me?"
"You have to start thinking about your future. Even if you want to become an artist, you've got to expand. Any artist, writer, songwriter, anyone in the creative fields has to have real experiences from which he or she can draw to create."
"Emily Dickinson didn't," I said. "She was like a hermit. She wrote poems on pillowcases."
"But think of what she might have achieved if she had gone out among people, events, activities."
"She's in our English literature hook. She's that important to our literature. She didn't need real experiences. She invented them, imagined them."
"You're a pretty smart girl, Alice, a lot smarter than I was at your age, I'm sure, but believe me, you have a great, deal to give to other people and draw from other people. You've got to let yourself go. Join things. Dive into it."
"That's what Grandpa was just telling me," I said. I nodded to myself. This is a conspiracy, all right.
"You should listen to him. He never gave me bad advice."
The entire time we spoke to each other, my father and I looked out the window and not at each other. We rarely looked at each other directly.
"I know it's been hard for you," he continued. "You inherited a lot of baggage, but you have to step out of it."
"Like you did?" I asked and turned to see his reaction.
For a moment his lips trembled and I thought he was going to be angry, but then his face softened and he nodded.
"Yes," he said. "I was selfish, but you do selfish things to survive sometimes. What I owe you, I can't even begin to pay back. Your grandparents stepped up to the plate on my behalf, pinched hit. They've done a better job than I could have. That's for sure, but they're ,,both very worried about you, as I said, and it's time I stepped in, too."
"To do what?"
"Help you in any way I can, Alice."
"Any way?"
"I'll do whatever I can," he said, which I knew meant whatever Rachel permitted. "I mean, I want to give you advice, guidance, be a sounding board. I hope it's not too little too late, but . . . well, you see what I'm trying to say, don't you?"
I turned away and looked out the window again. I did, but I wasn't sure that what he was offering was anywhere nearly enough.
"Dad's right," he continued. "You have to let go of the darkness, Alice."
"You want to help me do that?"
"Yes. Very much," he said. "If I can."
"Okay," I said and slowly turned to look at him, blue eyes to blue eyes. "If you really mean that, then tell me everything," I said.
"Everything?"
"Tell me exactly who she was and tell me what happened up here."

3 Take a Chance
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    Of course, I expected my father to shake his head, mumble some excuses and flee the attic, but instead, he walked back to the small settee my grandfather had put up here and sat. I didn't move from the