Free House Of Secrets by Tracie Peterson

back in time for lunch. I’m hoping we can go somewhere nice. Maybe up to the Yacht Club in Silverdale.”
    “I can’t believe you can just act as if this is all perfectly fine.” Piper shook her head and knocked her chair backward in order to leave. “This family has issues to talk about. This family has spent a lifetime with secrets and heartache. We didn’t need a new mother. We needed answers.” She ran out before Dad could even reply.
    He looked at Geena and then at me. “What was that all about? What kind of answers is she looking for?”
    Geena got to her feet. “I’d better go see if I can calm her down.”
    I felt usurped. Overseeing Geena and Piper’s well-being was my job. Instead, Geena left me to face Dad on my own. What was I supposed to do now? I couldn’t very well just blurt out the fact that we knew he’d overdosed our mother and we wanted to discuss it.
    “I knew this would be a surprise for everyone, but I certainly didn’t expect hostility.” Dad sighed. “I suppose you’re mad at me too?”
    I shook my head. “I’m not sure what I’m feeling. Confused might be the best way to describe it.”
    He frowned. “Why confused?”
    “You said you would never remarry.”
    “That was because I felt you girls needed me to remain single.”
    His answer threw me. “Why would you think that?”
    He gave up trying to eat and looked at me. “I figured I needed to be devoted to your welfare.”
    “And being gone three hundred days out of the year accomplished that? Sending us to boarding schools met that need?” Now I was getting mad again. I thought of the things my counselor had said about confronting the past. I tried to calm myself. “Dad, you were always gone—or we were.”
    “True, but I sent you to the best schools. I worked harder and longer hours to make sure you wanted for nothing. I tried to spend as much time as I could at home in the summer when you girls were there.”
    “We lived with housekeepers and nannies,” I said, my sense of disbelief quite evident. “Yes, our schooling was the best, but we were alone except for each other. Had you not insisted they room us together in the early years, we would have run away. We were left alone far too much, and the one person we wanted—needed—was you.”
    He looked hurt, but what I’d said was the truth. He shook his head slowly and glanced upward. “I know I wasn’t a good father. I hope you’ll forgive me for that.”
    “It’s got nothing to do with forgiveness. We lost our mother—we were three little girls whose lives had been completely turned upside down. But instead of getting us counseling or even just encouraging us to talk to you—you sent us away.” I was frighteningly calm and to the point. “We were alone and terrified.”
    Dad reached out a hand toward me, then dropped it. It hung limply at his side. “I’m so very sorry. I never intended for you to be hurt that way. God knows you had already endured so much.”
    “What’s with all this forgiveness and God stuff?” I asked. “You were never concerned about these things when we were growing up.”
    “I know, and I’m sorrier about that than anything else.”
    Sorrier than for killing our mother?
    I didn’t ask the question aloud, but I wanted to. I thought of Mark and something he’d once said about God making us into something new. I hadn’t given it much thought at the time because religious nonsense wasn’t of interest. Now, however, I found myself wishing I knew more. Was religion why Dad had a different look? Was he trying to be something—someone—new? How could he possibly do that without dealing with who he was and what he did in the past?
    “Look, none of this makes sense. You told me a long time ago that the only things we needed in life were determination and drive. You said that we needed to set a goal and keep our eyes on the mark.”
    “And now I’m going to tell you that I was wrong,” he said matter-of-factly. “You need