Lies Beneath the Surface (Buried Secrets 2)
We approach the counter to pay our checks and say our goodbyes when Savannah turns to me and says, “Oh, I forgot to ask you if you will come by for dinner Saturday?”
“Yeah, I don’t have any plans. What time?”
“Great! You’re my saving grace! Come by around three and you can help me cook.”
“Really? Did you not learn anything from Thanksgiving?” I laugh, taking the to-go cup of sweet tea in my hands.
“Oh you’ve already committed, baby Sis. No backin’ out now.” She laughs, wrapping her arm around my neck in a warm hug.
“Alright Sis, I’ll see ya Saturday. But you owe me one.”
Chapter 10
Façade
fa·cade noun f?-'säd
: a way of behaving or appearing that gives other people a false idea of your true feelings or situation
The alarm clock buzzes at seven AM pulling me from a dream laden sleep, into the treacherous reality of my life. I drag my tired, aching body to the bathroom to freshen up quickly before making breakfast. The kids are bouncing through the house as soon as they hear any sign of movement and quickly begin their Saturday morning fight over the Disney Channel or Nickelodeon. Once the bacon, eggs and French toast are prepared, and the scent of coffee permeates through the house, I carefully wake Josh up to start his day. We sit around the breakfast nook eating in an uncomfortable silence. The only noise that fills the room is the clinking of silverware against the plates and even that earns death glares from Josh.
Once he scarfs down his breakfast, Josh charges out the front door. He spends his Saturdays in the winter at the local gun club with a group of men that he works with. No memories to be made with his children. They’re young, they have plenty of years to spend with their daddy; or so he thinks.
I carry on with my daily chores and weekly grocery shopping before spending a few hours of impromptu fort building and dress up with the twins. After settling the twins in with a mid-day snack and a movie, I make my way to the kitchen to begin dinner preparations. Carly should be here soon, but little does she know she’s on baby-sitting duty. After her constant whining and bitching over a little turkey guts at Thanksgiving, there is no way I’ll give her any culinary responsibilities.
Truth be told, I only asked her to join us for dinner tonight so she could serve as a buffer. Once a month, Josh’s best friend/boss joins us for dinner. He’s a nice guy. I’ve known him as long as I’ve known Josh, but I’m always the third wheel when the two of them are together. So while he’s spending the evening drinking with his buddy, I’ll have Carly here to keep me company and to keep Josh’s drunken debacles in check.
Don’t judge me, Carly has had a rough few weeks and getting out of the house will do her some good. I know she despises Josh and who am I to blame her? But she’s the closest person to a ‘friend’ I have.
I live a rather secluded life, focusing on caring for my family and making sure that Josh’s every want, need and desire is met with sheer excellence. Since the twins were born, I don’t have girls nights anymore and I rarely take time to pamper myself with a pedi. Other than the moms that I see at the occasional class holiday party, I have no real friends.
Carly arrives thirty minutes later and I take advantage of her presence, leaving her to watch the kids while I take a hot bath and get dressed for dinner. The pot roast that Josh requested for dinner is simmering in the crock pot, and all there is to finish before he gets home from the gun club is the rolls and whipping the potatoes.
Sinking deep into the tub, I pull my knees up into my chest, wrapping my arms around myself securely. As the steam from the bath envelops the room, the tension on my shoulders begins to melt away, if only for a short while. This is my haven, the only time I have to release the grief and fear that exhausts me. In my haven, I’m briefly able to strip away the mask, and breathe.
The façade I present to the world is impenetrable. Even in the depths of my imprisonment my façade is in place, cemented firmly on my saddened face. Whether I plaster on a smile leading others to believe that the life I live is in bliss, or I’m coating my face in heavy concealer and foundation to cover the bruises that mar my flesh. It’s an exhausting attempt to fool the ones I love, but if my secret were to be revealed, my life would be on the line. There’s no doubt in my mind that Josh will kill me to cover up the truth of his identity. So I tread lightly, tip toeing around in the prison that is my home in hopes that one day I’ll find the strength to escape. I hold on only for Braden and Brailee.
Before time slips away, I pull the drain from the tub and proceed to perfect my appearance for dinner. When I make my way downstairs, my hair is perfectly straightened framing my face, while the makeup that covers my bruised forehead is flawless. The three inch peep toe heels clink against the tile floors of the kitchen, drawing Carly’s attention from the family room. I wrap my apron around my waist and continue to finish dinner as she takes a seat at the island.
“You look beautiful, Savannah. Is it a special occasion? I feel out of place in jeans and a flannel.” She shrugs.
“No special occasion, Sis. Josh just prefers that I dress nicely when we have company for dinner.”
“How sweet, the jackass considers me as company.” She jokes, laughter bubbling from her chest.
“Actually, his boss is joining us for dinner. In fact, I’m not sure I even mentioned that you were joining us. But no worries, once the men are fed, they’ll be drinking the night away until neither of them can stand.” Carly looks to me seriously, with an arched eye brow as she chews on the corner of her lips.
“What does Josh do again? You never really talk about his job.”
“Coal sales.”
“For what company?” Carly asks with a hint of annoyance in her voice.
“Oh, I don’t remember, Carly. Josh never discusses his work with me. He works, I tend to the kids. That’s the story of our lives.” That sounds more pathetic than I intend, but it’s the gospel. Sensing my frustration, Carly quickly changes the subject, making small talk about everything from the twins’ to her fond dislike for the winter weather.
When the garage door grinds against the track, signaling that Josh is home, I hurry to finish setting the table while Carly helps the kids wash up for supper. As she makes her way into the kitchen, she pulls glasses from the cabinets for our drinks then follows the kids into the dining room.
“Daddy! Uncle Drew!” The twins screech in excitement! Carly looks up at Josh and Drew in horror and a glass tumbles from her hands, shattering against the floor. Tiny shards of glass scatter in every direction. Fear, laced with anger and hatred sweeps across her face. Her mouth hangs in an open ‘O’ as she glances from Josh to Drew to me. “What the hell?!” She yells, then drops to her knees to pick up the broken glass.