The Sound of Secrets. Irene Brand
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Rissa had often resented because Ronald had so little affection for them. But she was pleased that something had caused Howard to see a resemblance of his wife in her today.
At dinner, Rissa related her brief visit with her grandfather to Winnie, Portia and Miranda. Ronald had refused to dine with the rest of the family and ate his meal alone in his office.
When she mentioned that Howard had called her Ethel, Winnie exclaimed, “I’ve always thought you favored my mother—not so much in looks but in disposition.”
“Does that include me, too?” Portia asked.
“No, the few traits that you and Rissa don’t share are the ways I could tell you apart when you were little.” Winnie laughed slightly. “I’m sorry, Rissa, but some of them are negative qualities.”
“Such as?”
“The way you frown too much, like you’re doing now, or how you’re often impatient. And you’ve always been easily distracted and more melancholy than your sisters.”
Rissa closed her eyes, confused by this unexpected assessment from her aunt. Winnie should have added that Rissa didn’t take criticism well, either, because her aunt’s words had cut like a knife.
Perhaps Winnie feared she had upset Rissa, because she gave her a hug. “But don’t let that bother you. It’s the endearing qualities that I notice most. The tenderness and love you have for your sisters, especially Portia. Your determination to follow a project through to completion no matter how difficult it is. The gentle ripple of your laughter when you’re truly happy.”
“Enough, Aunt Winnie,” Miranda cried. “You’ll swell her head. She already has an overabundance of pride.”
Rissa joined in the general laughter, determined not to be offended by Winnie’s negative words. Obviously the family didn’t know that her inner self was often at war with the calm, confident exterior she displayed to others. How long could she keep her depression diagnosis from her family?
After her long drive the previous night and the traumatic events that had greeted her, Rissa thought she would go to sleep as soon as she got in bed, but her mind was too active. Shivering from the cool breeze wafting into the room from the bay, Rissa got out of bed and closed the window. A flicker of lightning and a rumble of thunder alerted her to the approaching storm. She hurried back to bed and covered her head, aware that Portia was already asleep, breathing deeply.
Rissa had always been afraid during thunderstorms. When she was a child, she’d often run to Portia’s bed when bad weather had hit. By sheer self-will she had stopped doing that when she was a teenager. But the fear remained. That was one of the reasons she had gladly changed the coast of Maine for the asphalt jungle of New York.
She seldom woke up when a storm raged around her apartment in the city, because most of the time she couldn’t separate flashes of lightning from the street lights and neon signs. And the steady traffic along her street tended to cover the peals of thunder.
Rissa had discussed the fear of storms with her psychiatrist, telling her that it was storming the night her mother had died in a car accident. Because she had been only three at the time, Dr. Pearson doubted that she actually remembered the event. She suggested instead that, because Rissa had repeatedly heard about the bad weather the night her mother had died, she had learned to associate storms with thoughts of her mother.
Rissa delved into her memory for one of the verses she had memorized as a talisman against fear. A message of assurance from the Thirty-fourth Psalm came to mind.
I sought the Lord, and He answered me and delivered me from all my fears.
Rissa repeated it over and over until her pulse ceased racing and her body stopped trembling. Strengthened by the Word of God, and knowing that such fear was inconsistent with her Christian faith, Rissa got out of bed, intending to face her phobia.
She walked to the window, pulled back the curtains, lifted the windowpane, determined to experience the full force of the storm. She heard the unleashed power of the waves splashing against the coast. Wind howled around the turrets of Blanchard Manor, and leafless limbs on the oak and maple trees snapped like gunshots. In the intermittent flashes of lightning she saw that the spruces on the lawn overlooking the ocean were bending low from the force of the wind.
A peal of thunder ricocheted across the roof of the house. A streak of lightning zigzagged across the sky, so bright that for an instant the room was illuminated as if it were daylight. Rissa stumbled backward from the window in terror and slammed it shut.
I sought the Lord, and He answered me and delivered me from all my fears.
Straightening her spine, Rissa stepped in front of the window and stared belligerently into the darkness. Seeing the humor of the situation, she laughed slightly.
“This is ridiculous. What am I trying to prove? Get back in bed and go to sleep, silly,” she ordered herself. That was easier said than done. It was futile to lie down when she was wide awake. Taking a flashlight from the nightstand, she looked around the room for something to read but she found nothing.
She sat in a chair near the window, and as the storm continued to rage around Blanchard Manor, she remembered people in the Bible who were afraid.
The psalm she’d been quoting tonight had been written by King David, perhaps one of the bravest men in Biblical history, yet he had often been afraid. I sought the Lord, and He answered me and delivered me from all my fears had been written when David had feigned insanity to escape from King Abimelech.
Jesus had often stilled the fears of His disciples, especially during tempests on the Sea of Galilee. Paul, the apostle, had known fear during many stormy incidents in his ministry, but he had never failed to trust God’s power to deliver him from those fears.
The wind and thunder ceased and all was quiet in Blanchard Manor and in Rissa’s heart, but in the distance she heard another storm approaching. Her thoughts drifted from the Bible to one of Shakespeare’s dramas. Her favorite of the Bard’s work was Richard III. A year ago in New York she’d had the privilege of seeing the drama presented onstage by a troupe of traveling English actors and actresses. Richard had been a wicked man and had feared no one. Determined to claim the English crown, he had ordered the deaths of several competitors.
At the end of the presentation, Richard had been unhorsed in the conflict near Bosworth Field when the armies of Richard and the Earl of Richmond had engaged in combat. Richard had staggered onstage, his armor clanking, fear evident in his trembling body, as well as in his voice. Terror-stricken, he’d shouted, “A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!”
Thrilled as always when she thought of the play, Rissa had an overwhelming desire to read the saga again. Although she didn’t know why, the family had always been interested in Shakespeare’s works, and she was sure she could find a copy in the library. Carrying the flashlight, Rissa opened the bedroom door quietly. She descended the walnut staircase stealthily to keep from awakening the family. With her foot on the bottom step, she paused, feeling ill at ease.
One of the tall double doors into the library was ajar and she heard footsteps in the room. She turned off the flashlight, plunging the hallway into darkness. Considering the strange episode in the gazebo the night before, she decided it was wise to find out who else was awake before she went into the library. Rissa wasn’t the only sister afraid of storms, so one of them may have come downstairs to read. She started to call out to see who was in the library, but she hesitated. Who would be reading in the dark?
A flash of lightning illuminated the hallway briefly and Rissa listened intently. Again she heard a sound—as though something was being pulled across the library floor. A tingle of panic rippled up and down her spine. She instinctively turned and ascended three steps. But one of her sisters might be in trouble! In spite of her fear, she had to see what was going on.
A cold knot formed in Rissa’s stomach. With her heart thumping madly and her body quaking with fear, she moved forward until she stood in front of the library doors. Her hand trembled as she pushed one of the