Dirty Little Secrets by C. J. Omololu Read Free Book Online Page B

mom not like something we did out of love?”
    â€œThen why couldn’t we tell her?” I said. “Or Sara?” Sara hadn’t bothered to come back once Aunt Jean showed up, spending all her time either at the hospital or at her apartment.
    â€œWell,” she said. “Your sister is busy with her own life, and your mom might have felt bad because she couldn’t help. You know that even though she’s getting out of the hospital today, she’s going to need lots and lots of rest. Isn’t it better that she recuperates in a nice, clean house with all of us there to take care of her?”
    â€œI guess,” Phil said, not looking convinced. I didn’t know what he was so worried about—it’s not like we did anything bad. He shot a glance at me and I shrugged.
    â€œWatch your step, Joanna,” Aunt Jean said as she guided Mom’s walker up to the house. “Put your wheels on the stoop and then take the step up slowly.”
    â€œI’ve got it,” Mom said, clearly frustrated at having to rely on someone else for help.
    â€œI just don’t want you to fall,” Aunt Jean said.
    Mom stopped her slow progress up the walk and leaned on the handles, her breathing coming hard, like she’d just run a marathon. “I know. I’m sorry. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for the kids the past few weeks. You must be anxious to get home.”
    Aunt Jean leaned over and kissed her sister on the cheek. “It was nothing. I know you’d do the same for me. The only thing that matters now is that you get better.”
    Phil and I walked behind the two of them, me carrying several bunches of flowers from her hospital room and Phil carrying Mom’s small suitcase.
    I was so excited I felt like I was going to explode. We’d worked so hard to get everything finished—even the big Dumpster had been taken away just this morning, leaving only two parallel scrapes in the street to show it had ever been there. “Can we tell her now?” I asked. I was practically jumping up and down, and wished they would hurry up and get to the door.
    â€œTell me what?” Mom smiled. It was probably the first smile I’d seen since her accident. The worry lines in her forehead had gotten so deep they looked like scars from a lifetime of hurt.
    Aunt Jean concentrated on finding the right key on her key ring. “Oh, just a little surprise we cooked up for you.”
    Phil hung back and didn’t say anything.
    â€œOpen the door already!” I practically shouted.
    Mom had a confused smile on her face as Aunt Jean swung the door open.
    I scooted past the two of them and into the sparkling hallway that still smelled faintly of pine cleaner. “Ta da!”
    Mom placed the front legs of the walker in the hallway and pulled herself into the house. She took two tentative steps and stopped, craning her neck to see into the dining room and then back to the living room. “Oh no,” she said quietly. The walker rattled on the tiles as she tried to hurry down the hallway. Her voice got louder and more frantic as she went. “Oh no . . . oh no . . . oh no!”
    Aunt Jean followed behind her, but Mom didn’t seem to notice. “Now, Joanna, it just needed a bit of sprucing up in here,” she said. “It’s no big deal, really. Joanna?”
    Mom continued her noisy scraping along the hallway until she got to her bedroom. One hand gripped the walker as the other flew to her mouth. “Where are they? Where are all my things?” She turned and started back down the hallway to where Aunt Jean had stopped. “My papers and photos? All of my quilting supplies—some of those fabrics are irreplaceable!”
    â€œYou need to calm down,” Aunt Jean said. “We kept everything that was valuable. It’s all put away. The kids did such a wonderful job—”
    â€œThe kids? You made the kids do this