During the spring of my seventeenth year, I learned a shocking truth about my family. It turned my blood so cold, I thought I would freeze in place, become a statue like Lot’s wife in the Bible.
Neither my mother nor my father wanted me to ever know that there were such dark secrets buried in our family vaults, secrets that deserved to be buried forever and ever.
Daddy once said, “As soon as we’re born, we’re given private burdens to carry, burdens we simply inherit. Sometimes those are the burdens no one but you can carry for yourself, no matter how much someone loves you and cherishes you, Honey.
“In fact, the truth is, the more you love someone, the more you want to keep him or her from ever knowing the deepest, darkest secrets in your heart.”
“Why, Daddy?” I asked.
He smiled.
“We all want to be perfect for the one we love.”
That meant no stains, no dark evil, nothing that would bring shame and disgrace along with my name. I knew that.
I also would soon know why it was impossible.