CHAPTER SIX: MOMMY'S SECRET

As was expected, in the beginning, Mrs. Anderson was a little reluctant to keep my whereabouts a secret from my father. I always knew Mrs. Anderson and her husband David, who died in a boating accident a few summers ago, were close to my Mommy and especially my Daddy. I knew it would be hard for her to keep such a big secret from my father.

"Oh Spring," she sighed, as we three sat around the dining room table, "we could be charged with kidnapping, if Jeremy wished to go that route. This could blow up in our faces." She reached out and squeezed Brad's hand in hers. "You children are convinced, though, that this would be the best for you, Spring?"

"Yes, Mrs. Anderson," I replied, firmly. "I can't go back to that house, when that woman is there. I won't go back when she's under his roof."

"I understand, honey. We'll take care of you, just Brad and me. You won't have to go back to your daddy's house if you don't want to," Mrs. Anderson cooed, patting my cheek. "Now, I'll see if I have some clothes you can borrow. You can sleep in the guest room for the time being."

"Thank you very much, Mrs. Anderson," I said, getting up and following her into her room, where she threw open her closet. Brad's mother smiled at me warmly, her blue eyes crinkling in the corners.

"Now Spring, you don't have to call me Mrs. Anderson. You can call me Margaret," she smiled, taking a beautiful pale pink cashmere sweater off of a wire hanger. She turned to her bed and tossed the sweater onto it, followed by a white denim skirt, a cream-coloured silk blouse, a black miniskirt and some other assorted items.

"Thank you very much, Margaret. I really appreciate this," I said, gathering the garments in my arms. "You really didn't need to do this, so thank you so much."

"You're very welcome, Spring," she said. "I know how it is to grow up in a home without love or affection, and I know how you feel when your daddy neglects you in favour of his new wife and baby."

I lowered my eyes, modestly, and headed for the guestroom. Brad was sitting on the bed, wearing a wide smile. "What are you so happy about?" I asked, setting down the clothes on the polished mahogany desk. Brad didn't stop grinning.

"I brought these for you, to brighten up the room." He pulled his arm from behind his back and handed me a bouquet of daisies.

"Oh Brad," I gasped, taking them in my hands, "thank you so much! I'll put these in water right away!" I planted a loving kiss on his cheek, near the corner of his mouth, and Brad raised his hand to his lips, staring back at me.

When I came back with the flowers in a vase, Brad was still sitting on the end of my bed. "Spring," he whispered, "I've always thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world. Would you mind if I kissed you?"

"Why bother asking, Brad?" I laughed, grabbing his hands and pulling him to his feet. I took his face in my hands and pressed my lips on his, slipping my tongue into his mouth and probing his depths. Brad raised his hands to my waist, pulling me closer to him so that our chests were touching.

There was a knock on the door and we quickly separated, guiltily. I went and let his mom into the room. "Dinner is ready," she said, with a knowing smile on her face. "Did I interrupt anything?"

"No, Mom," Brad interjected, quickly, stepping forward. "Come on, Spring. Let's go. Mom makes the best meatloaf."

My life with Margaret and Brad Anderson was quickly shattered when Daddy finally arrived to take me home. It was a cold, blustery autumn afternoon and Brad and I were in the den, doing homework and watching TV. "OPEN UP, MARGARET! I KNOW YOU'VE GOT MY DAUGHTER IN THERE!"

I looked up at Brad, my eyes widening in terror. "Brad, he's here. I can't stay. I have to find a way out, the back way." I stood up, pushing aside my math text and grabbing his hand in mine. "You have to help me escape."

Brad smiled at me. "Of course, Spring. Come with me."

We crept toward the back entrance, which led to the alley behind their house, but Margaret was blocking the door. She held my bag in her hands, and she smiled at me, sadly. "I'm sorry, Spring. Your father has come to take you back. I can't keep you anymore." She pressed my bag into my hand.

"Mom, you can't send her back," Brad insisted. "Jeremy and Claire beat her. You can't let Spring go back into that household."

Margaret sighed, her eyes misting over. "Honey, he's her father. He has the rights, not me. I can't keep her here. I could get charged with kidnapping," said Margaret, as I shouldered the strap of my bag.

I realised now the true reason Margaret was sending me back to Daddy. She'd always had a crush on him, and was never able to deny him anything. Not even when she, Daddy and Mommy had been in high school together. Margaret had been Daddy's first girlfriend, before he met Mommy, and Margaret had never stopped loving him. And what Daddy wanted, when it came to Margaret Anderson, Daddy got.

"I understand," I said, softly, letting her know I knew the truth.

"Spring, I don't-"

"Save it," I snapped, pulling away from Mrs. Anderson's hand. "Everyone I've ever trusted has betrayed me." I looked at Brad, reaching out to run a hand through his dishevelled brown hair. "Thanks, Brad. I'll never forget you."

"Where are you going," he asked, sadly. "You live right down the street."

"I might not, later I might be dead," I replied, truthfully. "He might kill me. Or she might"

Brad glared at his mother, and then turned his dark brown eyes back to me. "Spring, let me marry you. Let me take you from your father's home. I'll do it for you, I really will. We love each other as good friends, and isn't that good enough?" He grabbed my hands in his as Daddy threw open the front door. "Please, will you marry me? I can save you."

I looked at Brad's handsome yet sad eyes, and then at Daddy's form in the front hall, his eyes blazing with rage. "Brad I have a duty. Baby Brandon will need someone to protect him. And I have to see that Claire gets what she deserves." I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, kissing him softly on the cheek, as Daddy clamped a hand on my shoulder.

"Spring, you're coming home NOW," he snapped, pulling me away from Brad. I stared into his eyes, as he silently begged me to reconsider.

But my thirst for revenge on Daddy and Claire was stronger than my platonic love for Brad. "I'm sorry, Daddy," I said, meekly. "I'll come home now."

"You're going to be punished," he snapped, barely able to control his rage. He turned his fiery gaze on his ex-girlfriend, glowering at her and baring his teeth. "How could you, Margaret? How could you kidnap my daughter?"

"It didn't seem like you missed her," Margaret replied, coldly, having done a complete turnaround concerning Daddy. I was impressed. "It took you long enough to come looking for her, Jeremy. What is going on in that house?"

"None of your goddamn business, THAT'S what. That's between me, Spring and her mother," he replied.

"Her mother is Priscilla Ferrara," Margaret snapped, folding her arms under her small breasts, leaning against the back door. "In case you'd forgotten, Jeremy."

Brad stepped forward, taking my hand in his. "She had bruises on her arms, Jeremy. Please tell me you and your new wife aren't hitting her, because if you are God help me, I'll kill you."

Daddy glared at Brad, and then his mother. "Did you plant those notions in that boy's head, Margaret? You still jealous that I chose Priscilla over you? You never cease to amaze me."

"I didn't have to plant ANYTHING, Jeremy. All Spring had to do was roll up her sleeves. The evidence is right there, on her arms," Margaret said, striding forward and rolling up my sleeve.

Daddy looked down at the faded bruises, disinterested. "So she's clumsy," he barked, harshly. "Aren't all children clumsy? Don't all children get into accidents?"

"Yes, if you mean accidents in the being-in-the-way-of-Daddy's-fist type accident," fired back Margaret. "I've changed my mind, Jeremy. You're not taking her back there. That woman Spring's told us what your wife does to her."

"She's a liar, a born liar," Daddy insisted, glaring at me hatefully. "She got that trait from her mother."

"Priscilla wasn't a liar," Margaret snapped, stepping forward to stare down Daddy. "Priscilla was a dreamer. She made up stories to escape the hell she called marriage. I was right to dump you, Jeremy. I saw you for what you really are - a cold, conceited bastard. How can you let Claire lay one FINGER on Priscilla's daughter? She must be spinning in her grave," Margaret snapped at him.

"I don't care," Daddy replied, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I honestly don't care. She's coming home, now. She belongs to me."

"Dammit, Jeremy, she's not a possession," insisted Margaret, her eyes widening. "She's your DAUGHTER, your flesh and blood!"

Daddy snorted. "I don't know about THAT, Margaret."

I looked at Daddy, the shock not registering. At first, I thought he'd just said those words to spite Mommy's soul, and to embarrass me. But when I looked into his eyes, I saw something I hadn't seen before. An emptiness.

"Daddy, what do you mean by that?"

"Don't call me Daddy," he snapped, letting go of my arm, which he had been squeezing tightly. Before flashing an annoyed glance at Margaret and Brad, he looked back at me. "I suppose it's time I told you the truth, Spring"

"Yes, Daddy. I'd like to know the truth," I insisted.

"Stop calling me Daddy," he snarled at me, his lips twisting into a ferocious scowl. "I'm not your daddy, I never was."

"What do you m-"

"Your slut of a mother cheated on me," he snapped. "She was unfaithful to me, brought another man into the marriage bed. We'd been going out for a year when she announced she was pregnant. I was so happy, because I was sure we would be a happy family. Just me, Priscilla and our little baby." Daddy laughed, scornfully. "Little did I know"

"Please, D-"

"Call me Mr. Danielson. I'm not your father," he interrupted me, before carrying on with his story. "Priscilla had become careless with her affair, and one night, I followed her out. I'd been suspicious for a few weeks, so I hired a private eye to follow her. He came back with reports of nights spent in a cheap motel with an unidentifiable man. So I followed her out one night. She took all the back roads to meet this lover at a cheesy motel, on Route 6. I rented a room next to theirs and slept in the parking lot, where I could see into the room. Priscilla was so confident; she and her lover didn't bother closing the blinds. She walked right up to the window, where everyone could see her, stark naked," Daddy snapped. "She didn't care that everyone could see, and that they would be judging me, pointing their fingers at me. Accusing me of not being adequate enough in bed to please my wife. That was when I began to doubt that our baby-to-be was actually mine." Daddy paused, flashing a glare in my direction. Shuddering, he continued.

"I stormed inside and confronted Priscilla and her lover. That man laughed at me, right in his face, flaunting his nudity. So, I did the only thing I could do." He flicked his eyes onto Margaret. "I killed him."

"Dad - I mean, Mr. Danielson, you did WHAT?" I exclaimed.

"I strangled him to death with my own hands, in front of my whore wife," he replied, glaring at me coldly. "Your real father is dead. I adopted you when you were born and had your mother put my name on the certificate."

"But you killed him?" I asked, my voice trembling. "So, I don't have a father."

He glared at me, his eyes hard and cold. "His name was O'Reilly, Patrick O'Reilly. Some low-life miner from Virginia, travelling into town for God knows what. Good riddance."

I pushed away the hand of the man I'd always called Daddy. "I'm going to find his family, then. They'll take me in."

"I wouldn't count on it," he snapped. "Patrick O'Reilly came from a privileged family. Eugene and Beatrice O'Reilly would never have approved of their only heir consorting with a Hispanic girl, and, not to mention producing a child with her. I'll give you some money to find them, but don't come crying to me if they turn you out in the cold."

***

TBC

Alex