Scandalous Lies

PrologueThe room was dark, outside moonlight drawing shadows across their faces. She spoke, not easily. “You are not who you think you are. You are not my son.” “Mother…” “No, my love. To you, I am only Barbara, and soon, I will be gone.” Her words penetrated through the cold that already pervaded the small bedroom. Why had he allowed her to return here to her home when what she needed was a hospital, where professionals dedicated their days to saving lives? Except deep down he knew there was nothing anyone could do for her. His mother was not long for this world. His mother…his rock, his lifeline, the only family he’d even known. And now, here she was, lying in bed, weakened, sweat beading on her brow and a nervous tic affecting her face, spewing fiction. He blinked, trying to imagine himself anywhere else. Because nothing she said was making any sense. “You’re talking crazy. You raised me.” She garnered enough strength to lift her thin arm. Her hand grazed his cheek, long enough to make him smile. Like she had done his entire life, more when he was a child and she would read him a story before bedtime. With this gentle touch, she kept alive their familial connection. One she was now, inexplicably, denying. Her hand fell to the bed, a sigh of exhaustion escaping her lips. The brutal cancer was eating at her, devouring her with each passing minute, determined to win. She knew it would and he, sadly, knew it would, too. The morphine drip at the side of her bed, the one inserted into her arm, was doing its best to ease the pain of her fruitless battle. He gently took hold of her hand. Her fingers weren’t strong enough to return the grip. “You were my angel, the one who gave me the reason to live. Now it’s my turn to give you back the life you should have had,” she said between breaths. “I have a life already. I’m your son. Noah. Noah Sanders.” Barbara Sanders, with her thinning scalp of gray wiry hair, shook her head, her effort the last bit of energy she could muster. “How I wish in my heart that was true. There are things you don’t know. Terrible things, my beautiful boy.” Noah was no boy, not any longer. He was twenty-seven. Five feet ten, with thick brown hair and a dark shadow of beard that his mother had told him reminded her of the man she’d loved. Not his father, she never phrased it that way. Sometimes her fiancé; they’d never had the chance to marry. Noah scratched at his chin, the touch making him think of last night when someone else had done that. A man. He had stroked his face, enjoyed the stubble, and said so. Not love, it hadn’t been a romantic date in the conventional sense, just a hook-up. One Noah needed. A release. As well as a confirmation of who he truly was. A gay man. It had taken so much for him to admit it all these years. It’s funny how life works, he thought, here he was now at his mother’s side on what was surely her deathbed, ready to confess his truth about last night when she one-upped him. Suddenly it didn’t matter that he was gay or that he’d never confessed his sexuality to her. If what she was saying was truth, his entire identity was called into question, s****l and familial. To hell with the fact he liked men. He wasn’t her son. He felt that chill again. “Why is this window open? It’s January…it’s freezing outside,” he asked. “I like it. I always enjoyed winter. The falling snow. The comfort of blankets.” While Barbara feebly grabbed at the thick blanket atop her, Noah guiltily stole a look out the window. It wasn’t snowing tonight, and instead he was presented with just bitter cold. The high temperature today had been ten degrees, the night colder, perhaps the worst day of the year so far. Cold enough to claim her. But the harsh weather wasn’t unusual in the upper regions of New York State this time of year. There were several inches of hard-packed snow already on the ground from the most recent storm to pass through. As far as Noah knew, he’d lived his entire life in White Pine, found deep in the heart of the Adirondack Mountains. He was born here, went to school, had his higher education of maybe being a lawyer cut short when his mother grew sick. She’d lasted a cruel eight years of highs and lows, spending them in and out of hospitals, enduring chemotherapy, radiation, surviving but barely living, until they had reached this inevitable moment. Not once had she ever indicated that they were anything other than mother and son. The two of them, together against the world. There was no getting around the fact that he’d be on his own soon. No father, no siblings. Not even a grandparent. It was one of the reasons he’d impulsively given in to s*x last night while she was wasting away in the hospital. As though he was looking for something from the future. He’d never been alone before. “Mother, I think you should just rest.” She started to laugh, which turned into a phlegm-filled cough. “Oh, my boy. I will. Soon.” He squeezed her hand. “So enough of this nonsense.” “It’s not nonsense. You must listen to me. I did a horrible thing. A selfish thing.” He wanted to quiet her, to ease her pain. Except he knew, deep in his core, she was telling the truth. And she needed to speak her mind, to release the demons of her life before she passed to another world. Trying to calm the growing fears within him, he sat on the edge of the bed, deciding to no longer interrupt her with words meant to soothe. The only thing that would bring her comfort now was, first, to unburden herself, and second, to die. “Noah…how I always loved that name. A man who saved the planet, bringing aboard the animals two-by-two, ensuring a continuation of all species. Call it a fairy tale, a myth, or religious truth, it always spoke to my heart. The idea of twos, even of twins. Back when I was pregnant, how I wished the doctor would have told me I would be having twins. It wasn’t to be.” “No, you just had me. The two of us.” “Stop,” she said, finally bringing voice to what she’d been holding back. “I stole you.” The chilling words sunk deep within his soul. But they felt uncomfortable, wrong. Like the cancer that lived inside his mother now invaded him. He wished to take back this entire evening. From when he arrived at the home he’d always known as a child, the only place he had ever felt at peace. Taking her home this morning, getting her settled with the aid of a duty nurse. What he’d done last night…staying until the wee hours of the morning and indulging a desire that should have gone ignored. It should never have happened. He didn’t realize the end was this close…or perhaps he had known, and it was why he’d gone for such an affirmation of life He stared now at the only person who’d ever truly known him. She was speaking awful words. Were they honest ones? “Stole? How is that possible?” “They were terrible people. They didn’t deserve you. I took you. To live a life of honor.” It was an ironic twist of words. How did one live an honorable life based on a lie? “Mother…” “Noah, my sweet. Just listen. What they did…how they lived, it was wrong. So wrong.” “Who? Who are they?” “I can’t say.” “You have to. If I have another family…my God, my whole life, it’s a lie.” “Except for the fact I loved you. From the moment you were born.” “What are you saying?” “I took you from the nursery. You were there not a day. We disappeared into the night.” Noah tried to process her words, yet none of them made sense. Had he been just a newborn and been taken from his crib? What was his mother’s relationship to this phantom family? A caretaker, a nanny? Hired to protect, only to steal? His mind reeled, wondering where tomorrow would take him. There was little denying it, she was dying. Right now, in front of him. “You filled my life with light, with love. You and me…just us.” He swallowed hard. Emotion rising within him. Thinking of the wild story she’d told him of his father. An experienced hiker, he’d challenged the mighty Adirondacks often, except on one day when the mountain range won. He’d fallen. Died instantly. She’d been four months pregnant, a month away from their wedding went the tragic story. Now, if what she was revealing was truth, then his father had not been Edward Miller, the man who was buried in the graveyard behind St. Agnes’s Church. How could she have pulled off such a scam to fake out her son, not to mention the entire town? But those mysteries would have to wait. For now, Noah set his eyes upon the woman he’d always thought had given birth to him. She was weak, the light beginning to dim from her eyes. “Mother, who am I?” She paused, as though trying to fight the words within her. They won out. She said, “Your name is Stephen.” Stephen. It felt so wrong, too plain. Lacking that strong biblical connection his mother so believed in. He didn’t like the way it sounded in his mind, nor did he wish to speak its bitter sound on his tongue. He liked Noah. He was Noah. He recalled the sound of his name when the man last night had cried it out during orgasm. Life made no sense at the moment, because he had no sense of self, of purpose. He was at this woman’s bedside, trying to ease her transition into a new world, one of peace and acceptance, yet she was leaving him rocked by supposed truths and hidden lies. He turned away, doing his best to fight the stinging tears welling up. But tears for what? For her, for him, for what he’d had, or for what might have been? For what he’d been denied? “Stephen who?” he finally asked. “Promise me, Noah. Promise me you will not seek them out. It will only lead to danger.” “Danger?” “I knew, from the moment I saw you, that you were special. Meant for bigger things.” “I’ve done none of that. I’m just me. An average guy, a line cook. Just going through the motions of life.” He paused, his inner thoughts turned into verbal admittance. “If I was meant for something great, you have to tell me. Mother…Barbara…who am I? What was I born into? Who named me Stephen?” There was an escape of breath from the woman in the bed. It was clear she hadn’t long in this life. She should have been transferred to hospice. To ease her pain during her final days, on a life of lies she’d only just confessed to today. But not confessed enough, Noah thought. So many of her days, of his, were a mystery, soon to die on the lips of the only person who had stood by him through twenty-seven of them. All of them now called into question. “I love you,” he suddenly said. He kissed her cheek, let their touch linger. “Oh, my boy. You filled my heart with so much. I have no regrets. You deserved better.” “Better than what?” Even he heard the begging in his voice. “Better than them, the Hatchers.” She paused, sought a breath that wouldn’t come to her. A shock to her system had her body bolt upright. “They are evil.” Evil was the last word that Barbara Sanders would utter, the last word that Noah Sanders would ever hear from her. It was a shocking moment he couldn’t absorb, cradling her even though she’d already gone. He allowed the tears to stream down his cheeks. He didn’t bother to wipe them away. He wanted them; welcomed the emotion behind him. Her passing had happened with such silence, almost like the transition from one world to the next was as easy as the day turning into night. Noah dropped his head, still holding the hand of the only mother he’d known. Except welling inside him was another truth. Somewhere out there, he had another mother. His biological one. Could it be true? And if so, why had Barbara Sanders taken him from them? Did they still miss him? Had there been an investigation? So many questions, so many unknown truths, and not an answer to be found among them. None would be forthcoming from the quiet soul laid out before him. She was at rest, perhaps at peace, now that she’d unburdened herself on her deathbed. She’d known what fate awaited her. For the man known as Noah Sanders, his own fate was still unknown, unwritten. He would pay tribute to the only mother he’d known, lay her beside the grave of the man she had claimed was his father. Even in death, still living a lie. And afterwards he would begin the process of unearthing the story of his own past; he had to, didn’t he? There had to be a reason his mother had finally revealed his identity. Not just because with her death he’d be alone. Had she known, too, about his sexuality? Feared he would end up alone? Conflicted, as he’d been for most of his adult life? But looking beyond these issues, he’d learned he had a family out there. Barbara never spoke his full name. Stephen, she’d uttered. Then the Hatcher family, she’d said, a decided edge to her dying voice. Which he assumed meant his real name was Stephen Hatcher. Even in his heart, the name sounded hollow. Who was he? Who were these Hatchers? He closed her eyes, closed his, too. He prayed for her soul. And for his. Then Noah Sanders shut the window, perhaps in doing so on his own life, his old life. The cold had grown so invasive. He wished for time to stand still, or reverse itself. But there was no stopping the arrival of tomorrow, or any of its unknowns. Part 1: Coastal Dreams