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Sacred Secrets of the Cedar Chest

By Angela Pisaturo

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This novel, while containing true-to-life situations, is a work of fiction. The story is a collective portrayal of the daily routine in a household where there is someone suffering from bipolar disorder.

The author wishes to bring awareness of the complexity of mental illness and its bearing on each sufferer and their families, as the severity of the disease varies from each individual.

The story is not intended to criticize the sufferer for their illness, or draw empathy for the caregivers and family members, but to leave the reader with one basic truth—that there isn't any circumstance, disorder or destructive behavior so hopeless that the grace of God, and his mercy cannot overcome, bringing about a healthier life for all involved.

All things are possible with God, especially the restoration of broken lives and broken homes



PROLOGUE



My sapphire eyes can break down anyone; Criminal, Colleague, or your own Grandmother. There’s nothing that gets passed me, and I’m proud of that fact. In this business you have to get the story, no matter how it’s obtained, or else the world, including your colleagues, will call you an amateur.

I’m a reporter for Heritage World News in Rhode Island. I'm proud of my work and I intend to stay in this position, whatever it takes. I will not be reduced to a menial job at some boring corporation—that’s for people who have no imagination, and no life.

Experience has taught me to dig deep to find the real dirt of a story and expose the lies, regardless of whom they may hurt. You ask what is truth?

Truth is different things to different people. There are those who think there are absolutes, but I tell you, if it’s your truth, hold onto it at all costs. In my world that’s how I roll–take it or leave it, that’s your choice.




Chapter One




“So, there you have it, Rhode Islanders. The so-called ‘Good Samaritan’ woman who opened up her home to unwanted kids had an ulterior motive. That’s right folks! Miss Margaret Beecher was a fraud. She used her foster kids as free labor for her illegal import and export business. Authorities have not yet disclosed the nature of that business, but when they do, you will hear it first from Veronica Wheaton.

It seems these kids have slipped through our wonderful system again! Are you as outraged as I am? This is Veronica Wheaton reporting for WJTM, Rhode Island saying, good night and good luck!

“Cut!” Veronica shouted to the cameraman, her piercing sapphire eyes glaring as she walked over to him. Leonard fidgeted, chewing on his finger nail, his face flushed red.

“So what bug crawled up your pants?” Veronica’s voice sounded as shrill as chalk on a black-board.

“No-nothing, nothing’s crawled…” The young intern’s voice shook with every word.

“So, go ahead and tell me that I’m a big bully for being so blunt to the entire WJTM audience!” Veronica stared him down.

“I, I wasn’t going to say anything,” he said as he slowly backed away from her.

"Let me enlighten you about being an ace reporter, you need to tell the cold, hard facts. You can’t dance around the truth, because that won’t cut the mustard.”

“I, I just think maybe you should….” Leonard said as he gulped.

“I should what, Lenny boy, spit it out!” she snarled as she backed him into a corner.

“Should have waited until all the reports from the police were confirmed? “Leonard pulled at his hangnail.

Veronica let out a milk-curdling laugh. “Is that what you think?”

“Ye yes, I do. That’s what we were taught in school.”

“Well, is that so? Let me enlighten you to something. school doesn’t teach squat about how to deal in the real world. But don’t sweat it, kid. I’ll toughen you up.” Then Veronica turned around, her eyes spewing fiery darts, causing the rest of the news staff to inch away from her.

“What a bunch of wimps! How do any of you expect to become something, if you're afraid of your own colleague?” she shouted as she slithered away.

Veronica learned that lesson the hard way when she was a rookie, just starting out in the business. She believed the bleeding—heart story a young father told her about his wife, and how she took the children, and ran away, when, in reality, he had killed them all, burying them in an open grave at the cemetery in another state.

At the time, the investigation was still underway, and Veronica’s reporting and interviewing of the husband influenced his acquittal. She promised herself she would never be that stupid again.

"This case is different. I'm smarter now and not so easily taken in by a good sob-story." She went over the process that she followed for this current case in her mind. Yes, she had done a thorough job of checking the facts, except for the facts her new intern, Marcy had dug up, but she taught her well, Marcy knew what to do. "I feel confident of the accuracy regarding the research Marcy conducted. An intern will never learn if they’re babysat all the time. The kid has what it takes to make it in this business." Veronica reflected for a moment. "Someday Marcy will be as good as I am, but I'm not going to tell her that and give the kid a big ego. As a matter of fact, Marcy even looks a little bit like me; beautiful eyes, fetching body, gorgeous hair. I know I'm just a sight to behold on the camera and Marcy will also be one day if she pays close attention to how it’s done."

Veronica finished her report and pushed the 'send' button to ensure Mark, her boss, received it at close of day, so he could review it before her morning broadcast. She then shut off her computer, grabbed her purse and briefcase and walked out of the office toward the elevators. Mark was behind closed doors on some conference call, and most of the staff had already left for the day.

Veronica felt she did an outstanding job covering today's story and decided to reward herself by leaving the office at six, instead of her usual past seven. At home she planned on pampering herself by taking a warm, soothing, bubble bath and opening that new bottle of wine she had purchased yesterday.

As she walked into the elevator, she heard Marcy calling after her. Veronica held the door open with her hand for Marcy to enter.

“Well, if it isn’t my ace reporter. What are you still doing here on a Friday night?” Veronica patted Marcy on the back.

"I waited for you because I wanted to tell you that I saw that entire ugly thing. Those idiots, you're the best in the business. If they had half a brain they’d see that. I just wanted you to know that I don’t agree with them.” Marcy’s eyes lit up as she spoke. Veronica sucked in all the adoration.

“You’re going places, Marcy. Someday, you’ll be working right alongside me.”

Marcy’s eyes grew wide, “Do you really think so?”

“I know so. Now have yourself a good holiday weekend and I’ll see you on Tuesday.”

“Thanks, Veronica. I’m so thrilled to be here working with you.”

As Veronica walked out of the elevator and toward her car, she whispered to herself, sure you are kid; who in their right mind wouldn’t be thrilled to work with me?

As Veronica started the engine to her Jaguar, she thought about the upcoming Fourth of July weekend. Everyone in the office had plans for family cookouts and fireworks celebrations, except for her.

Roy, the station's weatherman had invited her to his barbeque, but she didn't want that bible thumping, scripture spouting knit—wit, preaching at her. She knew that's the only reason why he invited her. "I'm his 'save—a—soul' project. The guy thinks he’s Jesus." She pulled out of the station’s parking lot and onto the service road that led to the highway.

Veronica thought back on her youth. She believed in Christ once, but that was before her father left her alone with that crazy mother of hers, who nearly destroyed her life. She had prayed and begged God to return her father to her, but it never happened. "If my dad, who was everything I admired and trusted, left home, how could I trust in a God I never met and who doesn't care if a kid is hurting?"

The past had a way of rearing its ugly head every now and again. Therapists called them ‘triggers’, things that stir up old dirt. Yes, she saw a Therapist once. However, he was so busy trying to convince Veronica she needed to take responsibility for her feelings, instead of blaming everyone else, that she left the session one afternoon in a fit of anger, never to return.

"Digging up old dirt, that’s what I'm about. I suppose it’s just who I am–what colors my world, what makes me tick."

Veronica pulled into the driveway of her town home. Except for her morning news report, she'd be alone with nothing to do this weekend. She was starting to regret not accepting Roy's invite and that troubled her; why should she care about being at that Barbeque, of all places. She would rather have a root canal.

But, in the back of her mind, she always carried the fear that someday she would turn out just like her mom and go crazy.

She shook the ugly notions away and thought of what to do in order to keep busy over the long weekend.

"Maybe I'll rent a good movie or go to the beach. Perhaps see the fireworks display over the harbor or clean out that closet I've been wanting to clean. I don't like those celebrations, they always remind me of when I use to celebrate with Dad. Maybe I’m better off alone; these things cause so much pain, it’s not really worth the effort in the long run."

Veronica undressed, then drew a warm lavender-scented bubble bath in the four-claw tub. The bubble bath helped to release the tension she felt in her muscles.

Afterwards, she sat in the love seat that faced the large bay window and gazed out at the harbor. In the distance, she could see the mansions at Newport as pleasure cruisers rippled in the water; even in the moonlight, the stately mansions shone and some of them belonged to the rich and powerful.

"Someday I’ll own a mansion with servants. Then nobody will make me feel small again."

She drifted into thought again, this time to one particular Fourth of July–the last Fourth she ever cared to celebrate. She was eight years old, and Mom had just come home from the hospital after suffering another bout with depression.

For the first time, Veronica was old enough to understand what had happened. Scenes of a struggle between her mother and father played out in her head. “Eleanor, give me that thing before someone gets hurt!” Ben shouted as he fought to free the knife from her.

“No! Leave me alone.” Eleanor’s shrill voice filled the air sending a chill down Veronica’s spine.

“What about Veronica and me, don’t you care about us? What will happen to us if you kill yourself?” Ben’s wounded voice made Veronica cry. Then she released her grip on the knife, causing it to fall to the ground.

“Veronica? What’s she got to do with this, she’s just a kid and you, what a disappointment you both are. You never know what I need, you're so useless!”

“Veronica is your daughter; how can you say that?” Ben's eyes glistened with tears.

“Don’t remind me of that. She’s just such a disappointment. I see other girls her age, all loving and kind to their mothers, but this one; what a lousy, ungrateful kid!”

Suddenly a dish on top of the China cabinet, crashed to the ground, Veronica came out from behind the cabinet, trembling and crying. Her father ran to her side.

“It’s okay, baby. It was an accident.”

“But, she’ll disown me!”

“No, darling, she won’t. I’m here.” Ben held his trembling child close to him, but she would not be comforted. She broke free and ran out of the kitchen and into the backyard. As she ran, she heard her mother screaming at her dad, “Didn’t I tell you she was no good!”

Ben picked up the knife from the floor, and then bolted out of the house in search of Veronica. He found her up in the tree house in their backyard. He placed the knife on the patio table, and then climbed into the tree house.

“My sweet baby girl, Mommy is sick and doesn’t know what she is doing,” His voice trembled as he spoke. Veronica grabbed her father's cheeks with both hands, as her sapphire eyes pierced

into his very soul. Now she spoke clearly and deliberately, “Yes, she does know what she’s doing. Ben wiped a tear from her eye.

Ben appeared wounded by her words. He took Veronica and sat her on his knee, “Yes, there are times Mommy does hurt us on purpose, but it’s still part of her disease. Someday when you're older, you will understand that she's not capable of love like everyone else, but she does love you in her own way.”

Veronica just stared at her daddy. She did not say another word.

Then Ben spoke again. “Veronica, honey, I’m going to take you next door to Mrs. Morgan’s for a while, until Mommy feels better, okay?" Veronica just stared at her father.

Ben cleared his throat and continued to state his case. "You told me you liked her and she always makes those great cookies.” He kissed her on the head.

“But, I don’t want cookies. It’s the Fourth of July and you promised we would go to see the fireworks at the park.” Veronica’s eyes grew wide.

“Honey, I’ll come home to bring you to the fireworks, I promise you. It will be you and me at the fireworks in the park.” He took Veronica by the hand and climbed down from the tree house.

As they walked over to Mrs. Morgan’s place, Veronica wondered if her mother would ever come back. Deep inside herself, where bad children live, Veronica wished she never would.

Perhaps her mother was right. What child wishes her parent to go away and never return?

“Honey, come away from the window, you’ll get wet from the sprinklers watering the lawn. They seemed to always wet the windowsill for some reason. Your daddy will be back soon,” Mrs. Morgan said as she pulled the frightened little girl from the window.

“Let’s have cookies and milk. I baked those spice cookies you like so much,” Mrs. Morgan held one up. “See, they're in the shape of the flag and frosted red, white and blue.”

Veronica pushed away the tray of cookies that now sat on the table in front of her, “I don’t want any of your stupid cookies!”

Mrs. Morgan took the tray and placed it at the far end of the table, then she sighed. "Okay, so what do you want to do this afternoon?"

"I don't know, I just want to go with my Dad."

Mrs. Morgan squeezed her hand. "Poor little thing, so much pain for you at such a young age."

Veronica pulled her hand free. As much as she wanted to ignore the cookies, she couldn’t. The sight of them was more than she could resist.

“Well, maybe I’ll have one cookie.”

“That’s a good girl.” Mrs. Morgan patted Veronica on the head.

“Would you like to take Missy for a walk with me?”

“Okay, but just for a little while.” Veronica took hold of the Beagle’s leash and walked down the street with Mrs. Morgan. She laughed at Missy, trying to catch a squirrel, and then they walked on the trail by the park. Missy was so entertaining, Veronica almost forgot she was angry.

As they were walking back to the house, Veronica saw her father waiting on the front steps. She let go of the dog leash and ran straight into his arms. “Daddy, Daddy, you’ve come back!”

“Hey baby, I told you I would. How was your time with Mrs. Morgan?” He swept her up off the ground and hugged her tightly.

She shrugged her shoulders. “It was okay. The dog is fun.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.” Ben pinched her cheek.

“How’s the missus?” Mrs. Morgan gave of look of concern.

“She’ll pull through, but it’s going to take a while,” he sighed.

“Well that’s good news, you're a good man Ben, don’t let anybody tell you otherwise,” Mrs. Morgan patted his shoulder.

Ben cleared his throat, "I'm not so sure I'm that good of a man, as you say I am."

"Of course, you are. It's just the pain talking now." She gave him a warm smile.

Mrs. Morgan had no way of knowing that he planned on leaving tonight, bringing his sweet baby girl to her uncle Jeb's to be raised.

Mrs. Morgan waved to Veronica as she left for the park with her Dad. "Enjoy the night, honey," she called after her.

The fireworks were magical. Her father was so attentive and kind. Veronica loved those times when it was just the two of them. Her mother somehow always managed to ruin their fun with her outbursts, embarrassing them in public.

Ben held Veronica close to him as he spoke. “You know Daddy loves you, don’t you baby?”

“Sure Daddy, I know that.” Veronica detected a tone of sadness in her father’s voice.

“Is Mommy making you give me away?” Veronica’s glare pierced his soul.

Ben narrowed his eyes. "Why would you ask a question like that?”

“Because she always says God made a mistake when He made me and that I’m not a good daughter, and if I don’t make her happy, she’ll give me away.”

“Oh baby, she doesn’t mean those things.”

“Yes, she does. I’m not stupid; I know what she means, and what she doesn’t!”

“How I wish I could make you understand. Things happen sometimes; life can be cruel. But remember I’ll always love you no matter what.”

Veronica wondered about her father’s behavior. She always knew he loved her. Why did he have to repeat it tonight when they were having fun?

“Honey, Uncle Jeb is going to come tomorrow to take you to his house to stay with him for a while, just until Mommy’s better.”

Veronica put her face in her father's and squeezed his cheeks. “Why? Where are you going?”

“Honey, please it's better this way for now. I’m doing this for you. Uncle Jeb is a good man, and he loves you a lot.”

“So why can’t he come here to our house to take care of me?”

“Because it will be better for you at his house. I have a lot to do, and I won’t have enough time for you, with having to get things ready for Mommy, plus going to work and the hospital.”

“So, when you're busy I can stay with Mrs. Morgan.”

“Please honey, do this for me.”

Veronica put her hands on her hips. “Okay, Daddy, but I don’t like it!”

“That’s my good girl.” Ben gave her an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

That was the last time Veronica heard her father’s voice or felt his strong arms around her or felt his sweet kiss on her cheek. Little did she know that night would change her life forever.

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