Secrets in the Attic (Secrets 1)

I sat on the covered toilet and kept taking deep breaths until I felt I was calm enough to face him.

"Hey," he said, looking up from where he was sitting in his chair in the living room when I entered. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes."

"No one called? I was expecting Jesse to call," he added quickly.

"No," I said.

He grimaced and then looked very suspicious. "That's not like him."

Oh, no, I thought the moment he rose from his chair. He walked past me to the kitchen and went to the phone. I heard him dialing. "Hey, big shot. I thought you were calling to let us know your exact schedule. What do you mean? Zipporah was home."

I stood there listening to the silence, imagining what my brother was telling him. He must have called while I was in the village meeting Dana. What would

I say? Making up lies to cover myself did not come easily to me, and I always had this fear that because my father was a trial attorney who was skilled in cross-examining people, he would see through any lie I told.

"Okay. So, let me get that down for your mother. Sounds good."

What? Well, it's not easy for her." He listened again. "Couldn't hurt," he added. "Okay. Have a good time. Bye."

I waited, my heart thumping,

"That's funny," my father said, returning to the living room. "Jesse said he called about a half hour, forty minutes ago, and you didn't answer."

"I was up in the attic," I said. "I guess I didn't hear it ring."

"The attic? Why?"

I sat and stared at the floor. "Karen and I made that our special place. I just like to go up there and think, be by myself."

"Oh, I see. Helps you to feel closer to her, huh?"

I looked up sharply. If he only knew how true that was.

"Yes," I said.

"Look. You have to stop beating yourself to death about this, Zipporah. There's no way anyone could or would think you had any blame. She was your best friend. She didn't want you to tell anyone what was going on in her house, and you respected her wishes. Friends are precious. The famous English novelist E. M. Forster wrote, 'If I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friend, I hope I should have the guts to betray my country.' "

"Really?"

"Yes," my father said, smiling "Friendship is valuable. Your country is important, but loyalty to someone you love or who loves you is harder to betray."

He kissed my cheek.

"Oh," he said, returning to his chair. "There was a message back at the office for me from that detective, Simon. It just said to call tomorrow. I suspect it has something to do with what we talked about yesterday. I gave the information to the right people at the district attorney's office to get things under way. Don't worry. I'll set the ground rules for any more discussions between them and you," he said finally. "They'll treat you with respect, or else."

"Okay, Daddy. Thanks I'm going up to finish my homework," I said.

"By the way, your brother just told me he's cutting his visit with his roommate's family short. He'll be back next Sunday."

"Why?"

"He's worried about you," he said. "That's nice," he added. "Of course, he'll see the new car. Let him be surprised. Since he's being so nice and worrying about you, we'll let him take a ride in it, huh?"

I smiled, but my thoughts weren't about gratitude. They were about Karen and what I had to tell her to do. She had to leave before Jesse returned. It wouldn't be easy hiding her from him.

I started up the stairs and stopped.