The Secrets They Kept

By Joanne Tombrakos

Every family has its secrets. Elena Poulous knew that. As an attorney she witnessed such deception every day. But she never thought her Greek-American family was like everybody else's. She believed she knew everything there was to know about them - until the Saturday morning, the police knock on the door of her New York City apartment. Her otherwise organized and controlled life is suddenly disrupted as they inform her of the death of Yannis Poulous, a man she had never heard of, a man who has listed her as his next of kin.

As Elena sets out to settle his affairs, she encounters a web of secrets that have been silenced for a lifetime. A box of old letters she unearths in his Brooklyn apartment begin to help unravel the mystery. But the biggest part of the puzzle - why everyone in her family, especially her mother Kristina refuses to talk about him - proves the most difficult to discover.

The story unfolds over the course of the forty days that follow Yannis' death, a time when according to the beliefs of the Greek Orthodox religion, the soul of the deceased remains close to the earth and to those it loves as it asks for the forgiveness of its sins.

The Secrets They Kept is a multi-generational story, of mothers and daughters, of cultural and religious influences that still exercise power, of hearts closing and opening, of secrets kept and discovered, all in the name of love and of family.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joanne Tombrakos
• Release date: Sep 23, 2011
• ISBN: 9780984007622

Joanne Tombrakos

Joanne Tombrakos is a writer, business coach and speaker who inspires and creates change. She blogs on living and working after corporate America at http://onewomanseye.blogspot.com. Joanne was born to first generation Greek-Americans. She lives in New York City. The Secrets They Kept is her first novel.

Book preview

Day 1

Elena

Elena. Honey. Elena could feel Matt’s hand rub against her bare shoulder. Wake up.

Elena slid herself closer to him, her body reaching to his, her head resting in the space in the crook of his arm.

Hey. She opened her eyes, breathing in his scent and pressing her body against his.

How can you sleep through that buzzer? Matt pulled himself away, his dark blonde curls falling over his eyes.

What buzzer? Elena curled her legs towards her chest and pulled the covers up under her chin. She had the ability to sleep through almost anything, including loud sirens and bolts of thunder.

That buzzer! Matt was standing on his side of the bed, pointing a finger towards the hall where the noise was coming from. The one the doormen use to talk to you.

Elena lay on her side, luxuriating in the softness of the sheets against her skin, her thick, wavy black hair strewn across the pale green pillowcase. She tried to focus, but she was really not very good before her coffee. She watched as Matt left the bedroom, enjoying the vision of his toned body, his skin a light caramel color from the sun. She remembered how he had shown up unexpectedly last night. She had been surprised after the argument they had on Thursday. Elena had been pushing back on him a lot lately. She was conscious of it and yet unable to stop herself.

She could hear him speaking from the other room.

Yes, yes, she’s here.

Matt had wanted her to have dinner with his kids but she had refused. He had accused her of not wanting to get to know Jenna and Robby better. She couldn’t tell him that he was probably right. From the beginning Elena had looked at their relationship the way she looked at all her relationships, as temporary. She was surprised that over a year later he was still here. She continued to believe that every time they saw each other it would be their last. She saw no reason to get in any deeper than she already had if that was going to happen.

Elena looked at the clock. It was only 8 and it was Saturday. What could they need from her downstairs that was so urgent? She knew she was going to have to get up.

Elena. Matt was back, his presence filling the room, standing at the edge of the bed.

Elena, you’re going to have to get up. Paulie says there are two police officers in the lobby who want to speak to you.

Police? What could they want? Elena threw the covers back and sat up, her legs dangling over the side of the bed.

I don’t know but you might want to put something on. Matt smiled as he handed her a robe and held it open, waiting for her to slip her arms in the pink silk.

Thank you. She was conscious of him following her into the foyer to the phone.

Yes. Paulie. It’s me, Elena. Yes. Are they saying what it’s all about?

Matt stood in front of her while she talked, one arm leaning his 6’2" frame against the wall. She found the nakedness of his body distracting to her conversation and turned her back to him.

Are you sure they are really cops? Elena looked at her reflection in the silver framed oval mirror that hung on the wall. Her hair was loose, falling to her shoulders. She ran her fingers through it trying to get it off her face.

Alright then. Send them up.

She hung up the phone, turning to find Matt, inches away from her.

Now it’s you who might want to cover up a bit. Her hand rested on his bare chest. The cops are on their way up.

Matt followed her towards the bathroom.

Elena, what is this all about?

I don’t know. Elena stood in front of the bathroom mirror, her deep blue eyes inspecting the tangled mess of thick black hair. She picked up a brush and tried to do something with it.

This is another one of those pro bona clients isn’t it? Which one is it now? Matt braced his arms against the frame of the door.

Probably. Might be this new one. Elena shook her head at the mirror. There was no hope for this hair.

You don’t have to do this stuff. Every time you take one of these cases there is some kind of trouble.

Not every time. And no I don’t have to do this, but I want to. We’ve been through this before. These people come here from Greece with nothing. They don’t have what you and I do. My grandparents came to this country like that. If people hadn’t helped them, where would I be?

Elena turned to find him blocking the bathroom door, his grey eyes reflecting their concern. She remembered how she had lost herself in those eyes when he had come to her door last night to apologize for getting so angry with her.

Matt. Tell me. Why do you not give up on me?

Because there is something in those beautiful eyes of yours that are begging for you to really let me in. Matt’s hand lifted her chin towards him.

You are really going to have to put some clothes on. She let her lips brush his, wondering if what he said was really true. Did she really want that? Did she really want to let him in any more than she already had?

I worry about you. He kissed the top of her head.

I know. But don’t. It’s okay. Really. I know what I’m doing. Now please, get dressed. Let’s find out why they’re here and get rid of them.

Elena took one more look at herself in the hall mirror before she opened the door.

Good morning, Ma’am. Two blue uniformed officers stood in front of her. The taller of the pair, red haired and freckled, spoke. She hated being called Ma’am!

Good morning, Officer. Elena noticed an awful taste in her mouth and realized she had not brushed her teeth.

I’m Officer O’Brien and this is Officer Manetti. He pointed to his partner. Manetti had deep sunken eyes and said nothing.

Sorry to bother you so early. May we come in?

Of course. Please. Elena suddenly felt very naked in her thin robe. She pointed the way into the living room with one hand while she made sure her robe stayed closed with the other.

Matt sat leaning back in the overstuffed armchair, dressed in jeans, a blue unbuttoned work shirt, his bare feet on the ottoman.

Who’s he? The shorter one broke his silence.

A friend, Elena replied after a brief hesitation. With all due respect, Officer, I don’t see why that matters.

Sorry ma’am. Red’s hair looked even brighter against the pale yellow walls and pre-war molding of the living room. It’s just that the nature of what we have to discuss is fairly personal. Unless he is a member of your family, I think it best he not be present.

Elena could not imagine what could be personal about something having to do with one of the clients she took on for free. She stood with her arms folded, and thought for a few moments before replying. She was a lawyer and a good one. She learned to never rush what she wanted to say in a courtroom. She did the same thing now, only in her bathrobe with her feet sinking into the thick oriental carpeting.

Matt. She looked at him. It’ll just be a few minutes. And I could really use some coffee.

Matt rose slowly and walked around the rectangular glass coffee table to where she stood. He was taller than both officers and in far better shape. He reached his hand around the back of her head and kissed her forehead, whispering, I’m right in there if you need me.

Please, sit down. Elena pointed to the sofa, patterned in varying shades of green and beige. She remained standing. She wanted them out of her apartment as quickly as possible.

You might want to sit, Ma’am.

No, thank you, I’m fine. Elena’s left foot was tapping furiously. Can we get on with this?

She was pretty sure this had to do with the young Greek from Thessaloniki she was trying to help get his residency after he had been found to be living here illegally. That was the only pro bona case she was working on now. They couldn’t possibly be here for any of her other cases.

Ma’am, Ms. Poulous, is that how you say it?

"It’s pronounced pooloose, thank you." Her left foot was tapping faster.

I know this is going to be difficult. But we got a call last night about a George Poulous. Your father?

Yes. Elena could not imagine where they were going with this. That’s my father’s name.

The neighbors had noticed he hadn’t left his apartment in Brooklyn for a few days. They got worried. Said it wasn’t like him.

Elena’s face felt warm and red. What were they talking about?

What? My father hasn’t lived in Brooklyn since he married my mother.

Both officers ignored her statement.

There’s never an easy way to tell someone this, but Ma’am, when we got there your father had already passed.

Passed! My father? That’s impossible. The conversation was making it difficult for Elena to breathe.

They’ll have to do an autopsy to determine the cause of death, but it appears to be natural causes.

No. That can’t be! The room felt so small and hot. She wanted to go open a window but she was not sure she could walk.

Elena held on to the side of her chair, trying to steady herself but it was becoming hard to focus. Her father was dead already. This was not her father.

I need that coffee. Matt? She felt her legs wobble and her vision blur as she called out to the kitchen. This is not my father you found.

Ma’am. It’s understandable that you’ll have some difficulty with this news. It’s a lot to digest.

NO! You don’t understand. My father is dead already. I don’t know who you found but it is not him.

Ma’am the deceased is George Poulous. Isn’t that your father?

Yes, but my father is dead! He has been dead for ten years. This must be another George Poulous. Elena started to cry. She hated having to shout that her father was dead. She hated to be reminded.

Matt had been standing at the door, listening. He walked to her side and led her to a chair, her body shaking.

He is dead. Matt turned to O’Brien. I’ve met her mother. She is a widow who misses her husband terribly. She goes to the cemetery every week. I don’t know who you found but it’s not Elena’s father.

O’Brien looked at Matt and then at Manetti and back to Matt.

Officer, he is right. Elena’s voice was softer now. My father has been dead for ten years.

Okay. Ma’am. Manetti spoke. But will you just look at this please? He held a driver’s license in his hand.

Elena pursed her lips tightly together and grabbed the license from him. The name was almost the same. George Y. Poulous. Date of birth, November 21, 1924. Close to her father’s.

It’s not him. She looked at the photo carefully. It was not her father, but there was something familiar. The nose. The nose could be her father’s. And this man had a cleft in his chin. Her father had a similar cleft. She kept staring.

Ma’am? Something else you want to say?

No. It’s just that there is something familiar about him. But no. He is not my father. She handed the license back to Manetti. My father died ten years ago.

Ma’am, if he’s not your father and you don’t know him, why did he have you, Elena Poulous, as who to contact in the event of his death?

Day 2

Elena

You know I don’t have any ties here. Matt chose a light blue oxford shirt from the section Elena had given him in her closet.

What do you need a tie for? Elena kept rewriting in her mind what she was going to say to her mother.

For church. You said we were going to church to meet your mother? To find out what she knows about this man with the same name as your father. Matt stood in front of the mirror as he buttoned his shirt.

No.

No, you’ve changed your mind? Matt raised one eyebrow.

No. I said I was going. Not we. Elena’s stomach was already uneasy at the prospect of having to ask her mother anything outside of what she was making for dinner that night. The conversation she was about to have with Matt did nothing to settle it.

Matt had not left her side since the police visit the morning before. He had been with her as they tracked as much as they could on George Y. Poulous. They found his exact address in Brooklyn, that the cause of death appeared to be an enlarged heart, and that it was indeed her he had stated was his next of kin on all of his papers. Each bit of information seemed to verify that this Poulous was in some way related to her. The question that loomed was if that was true, why had she never heard of him.

So, we’re right back where we started before I got here on Friday. Matt folded his arms across his chest. Elena?

Elena slipped into a pair of black sling-back pumps. Looking into the mirror she slowly applied a pale pink gloss over her lips.

Elena! How can you be like this? We make love this morning and you are totally open and honest with me, and now you’re like another person.

I am the same person. There is just a lot going on now, and I want to see my mother by myself.

No you’re not the same woman. Now you are that hard shelled coconut again not letting me in.

Elena tried hard not to smirk. Matt liked to call her a coconut. He said he was determined to crack that shell open, no matter how hard she resisted.

Fine, Elena. You want to do this alone. Go. Matt finished getting dressed.

Matt. Please. Please don’t be mad. Elena saw herself doing it again, pushing him away. Sometimes she felt like she was in the corner of the room observing someone else speak, as if she had no control over her words. Elena followed him into the living room, watching him look for his wallet and his keys.

Matt. She wanted to stop him, but she also did not want him to come with her. He did not turn to look at her until he reached the door.

You keep wondering why I stay. Why I don’t leave? I’m beginning to ask myself the same thing.

Matt. Elena reached out to touch his arm. Please, not now.

You’re right. The anger in Matt’s eyes shifted to kindness. He smiled at her. You have this mystery to solve now. He leaned over her and let their lips touch. But when it’s done, we have to figure things out here. We’re going to have to.

Elena stopped at the bottom of the stone steps, leading into the Cathedral. Inside the intricately carved wooden doors was a world of color and light and rituals. The solemn atmosphere had never failed to make her anxious. Today was no exception.

She had spent the last twenty-four hours trying to understand who George Y. Poulous was and why he would have her as his primary contact. Elena took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy door. The pungent smell of incense burning and candle wax melting caught in her throat. She would rather be anywhere but here, but she had no choice. She knew this was where she would find her mother. She was sure Kristina Poulous would be able to answer the questions she had about who this man was. She also knew her mother would be difficult. Kristina did not liked to be questioned. Meeting her in church would soften her and make it easier to get the answers she needed. Elena was sure of it.

Inside the narthex of the church she dropped a five-dollar bill into the silver tray. The gray haired man standing behind the table nodded to her. His arms were neatly folded over his protruding stomach, his bald head shiny, his blue striped tie knotted under his double chin.

She selected a tapered white candle from the woven basket and walked towards the candle stand that stood next to the icon of the Virgin Mary. Elena lit the wick off the flame of one already wedged in the sand. Dozens of flickering lights stood next to each other in uneven rows. She adjusted hers so it stood upright among the rest.

The image of the Virgin was framed in gold and under glass. Elena stood in front of Mary’s sad face, her eyes downcast. Help me to understand what this is all about. She leaned forward to kiss the Blessed Mother’s hand and then made the sign of the cross three times, the way she had been taught as a young girl. I know I only seem to show up here when I need help, but please help me to figure this out. She let her fingers touch the glass.

Inside of the nave, the priest stood at the altar, his long flowing robes etched in gold and black, his movements precise and practiced. His voice reverberated as he chanted words that had been repeated for nearly two thousand years. The Divine Liturgy was a trip through time to Byzantium. Sunlight seeped through the colors of the Tiffany stained glass windows, attempting to brighten the darkened room. Icons of the Saints bordered the sides of the sanctuary. The Bishops Throne with its red velvet seat cushion, sat off to the right. The domed ceiling was painted with pictures of the Archangels, their wings stretched out in protection. It was like being in a time machine.

Elena stood in the back as she scanned the dark wooden pews for her mother. She found her in her usual seat, off to the right, eight rows from the altar. Kristina was dressed in a dark navy suit with a pale blue blouse, her silver gray hair tapered at her neck and perfectly coifed. The woman never missed her weekly hairdresser appointment.

Her mother was sitting entirely too close to the priest for Elena. She had no choice but to go and sit next to her. She had come here with the express purpose of seeing her mother and finding out what she knew about this man who said he was family.

Hi, she whispered, sliding across the polished wood bench to sit next to her. She took her mother’s small hand in hers and kissed her on the cheek.

Her mother smiled, squeezed her hand and put one finger to her lips. She would not talk to anyone during the service.

Elena opened the prayer book, thumbing through the pages to see if she might get an idea of exactly how far into this they were. She knew very little Greek but enough about the service to determine where they were in the ritual.

Let us be attentive.

Elena had never really learned Greek. Even though there was more English spoken during the service now than there was when she was a child, the words had never held her attention. So Elena did what she had always done in church. She reflected, careful to sit and rise with the congregation, as directed by the priest.

She thought about Matt and what he had said before he left. She didn’t know why it was so easy to give him her body but so hard to let him see the rest of her.

For to you belong all glory, honor and worship to the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, now and forever and to the ages of ages.

Kneeling in prayer, Elena clasped her hands tightly, her eyes squeezed shut. God, please explain what I am to do with this. Who was this person? Was he really part of my family?

Elena looked at her mother and wondered what she knew. As an attorney, she was usually adept at getting the truth out of clients, of understanding other’s motives. But her mother had always remained a mystery to her. She never really felt she had any idea what went on in that woman’s mind. She hoped her mother had the answers to this.

I believe in one God, the Father almighty, maker of heaven and earth and of all things visible and invisible.

Elena watched Kristina recite every prayer and hymn. Her mother was standing and sitting a moment before the priest signaled with his hand. Her faith in their religion appeared unwavering to Elena.

She waited with her mother as they took their place in line to receive the blessed bread from the priest. Elena felt a huge knot forming in her stomach. She had never found it easy to talk to her mother about anything of any importance.

Her mother never liked answering questions and that was all Elena had today. Questions.

You look good Elena. Her mother whispered, nodding her approval.

Thanks, Mom. Elena knew how pleased it made her mother to have her daughter beside her in church.

Is that one of those expensive designers you like? Who makes this? Kristina touched the gray fabric of Elena’s jacket sleeve.

Armani, Mom.

Such taste. You didn’t get that from me.

They were in front of the priest. Kristina pointed to Elena as she kissed his hand to receive the bread.

My daughter. Those bright blue eyes are from George’s side, not mine.

Good to have you here. The priest smiled at Elena as he pressed the bread into her palm.

Mom, Do you have time to eat? Elena whispered as they walked down the aisle, her mother nodding to all her friends.

Of course, of course.

So. Kristina smiled. This is nice. She folded her hands neatly, adjusting the diamond engagement ring and wedding band she still wore. It was good to have you in church. You should come more often.

Elena nodded. The knot in her stomach was making her almost nauseous. She wasn’t sure how to bring up the reason she had come. Her mother always made her feel that way when there was something she had to ask her. As if she had no right to ask a question.

It’s good to come to church when it’s not just a holiday, you know. Her mother reached over and patted her hand.

Elena withdrew her hand quickly. This was going to be hard. She felt her throat get dry. She took a sip of water. She never understood why her mother did this to her. She could talk to witnesses in a courtroom, ask them probing, personal questions and not miss a beat, but her mother made her cringe.

She tried to gather herself, her hands spread on the table in front of her. She looked out the window at the crowded street. The sun was bright, the autumn leaves in full color. Everyone seemed to have something to do, the movies, a museum. She wished she was just another Sunday shopper today on her way to Bloomingdales.

So. Elena paused, carefully weighing her words. I had an interesting visit yesterday.

Oh. Her mother took a sip of her coffee. This isn’t hot enough. Let’s get the waitress. Kristina raised one finger when she located her.

I need a new cup. This coffee is cold.

The waitress rolled her eyes and looked at Elena. You want a new one, too?

No, no. Mine is fine, thank you. Elena felt her frustration growing. She needed to get this out, but as usual her mother would distract her and make it hard. It was as if she knew.

Her mother leaned over to whisper. The service in here is not what it used to be. Now, tell me, how is that Matt? How long have you been seeing him now?

Elena ignored the comments. She had not come here to discuss her relationship with Matt.

So, I had this visit yesterday, from the police.

Oh. Her mother did not seem interested. You haven’t done anything crazy, have you?

Of course not, Mom.

Is this about one of your cases? Probably those poor people you insist on helping? You know I should have gotten those waffles. Look how good his looks. Her mother pointed a finger at the bald man at the next table, lifting a forkful of buttered waffles and maple syrup to his mouth.

Elena felt the familiar rage brewing inside her. She hated when her mother did not focus her attention on her.

No, it wasn’t about any of my clients. It was about this person. Elena reached over to her purse. She