Family Secrets

By DeAnn Daley Holcomb

Will Jennalee, shattered by her true identity, find comfort in the arms of the strong and handsome Lance Forrester? Will Emma Cherie find the courage to leave her abusive husband and take a chance on finding happiness in the form of her one true love? Will the lovely and captivating Charlene learn to relinquish control and let destiny take its course? Family Secrets is set in Pleasant Valley, Texas, and chronicles the heartbreaking, hilarious romantic journeys of three generations of women.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Small Press
• Release date: Apr 15, 2008
• ISBN: 9781612548029

DeAnn Daley Holcomb

DeAnn Daley Holcomb is an award-winning television and newspaper journalist, as well as an award-winning author. Her first novel, Family Secrets, was a 2011 finalist for The Eric Hoffer Book Award. Holcomb, a native of Fort Worth, Texas, began her career as a reporter at an ABC affiliate in Lubbock, Texas. A two-time breast cancer survivor, she continues her work today as a full-time writer for local and national magazines, and as a published author. Her second novel, Beyond the Shadows, is currently in the works. Holcomb lives with her husband, Greg, and her son, Spencer, in Plano, Texas.

Book preview

Chapter One

Dallas, Texas 1981

Itried not to panic as I raced down the highway. I wanted to escape from the secret I had discovered.

My hands clasped the steering wheel of my car with all my strength, my wrists hurting from the rigid grasp.

How was I going to control my emotions after what my father told me?

It shattered who I am. I was on my way to confront them. After all of these years, I discovered everyone had lied to me. My mother, my favorite great aunt—so many in my family must have known. Does Lucas know?

The secret was out. There would be no turning back.

The toot of a horn interrupted my thoughts. I glanced back in the rearview mirror to look at the hundreds of Dallas drivers behind me. The headlights resembled a white rope, flowing like an angry snake with no end in sight.

I remembered with such fury what had happened this afternoon. My father had acted like it was so insignificant.

Didn’t your mother tell you Aunt Charlene arranged the whole thing? my father, Duff Campbell, had questioned me. He was surprised I didn’t already know.

I stood there mesmerized, shocked, and angry.

Thank goodness that crazy stepmother of mine, Mercedes, had not been home. That would have been horrible. I could imagine hearing her snort that crude, obnoxious laugh at me.

In a matter of seconds, my life changed forever.

Duff stepped forward, but I couldn’t run down the front porch steps fast enough to get away. He screamed at me to stop.

What’s wrong with you, Jennalee? Duff yelled. Stay here and let’s talk! As I ran to my car, he continued to run after me, right on my footsteps.

I can’t stay, Dad.

Stars circled in my head as if someone had hit me.

I jumped in my Datsun 280Z, hit the gas hard, and peeled out of the circular driveway. I realized how dark, dreary, and overcast it was, and the raindrops began to fall. First, the rain fell softly, and then suddenly it struck hard, sounding like miniature nails hitting the ground.

The weather summed up just how I felt about myself and my life—dark and dreary.

I tried to imagine the sun shining somewhere in the world.

Oh no! I felt the flashbacks coming. I shook my head, trying to dispel the memories. ‘No, please, not while I’m driving,’ I cried.

But the headache snaked in to my head.

I remembered one event as if it was yesterday. I was outside playing with my cousins and some of the next-door neighbor kids. We were playing in Aunt Charlene’s big backyard, right behind her trailer house beauty shop, next to her sprawling house in Pleasant Valley.

Her house was located down from the railroad tracks in this small Texas town. We would sometimes stop playing to watch the train travel by in the distance.

Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down, we all sang together.

As I started to fall down to the ground, my cousin Angela yelled at me, You can’t fall down, you’re not like us.

Yes, I am! I shouted back.

No, you’re not! my cousin shouted. Her words sting me like a yellow jacket wasp. Yes, I am! I cried back.

This confrontation continued until we heard the ice cream truck in the distance rolling down the street, and off we ran, the incident forgotten—or so I thought.

My mother always told me that I came into the world in a special way. Being seven years old at the time, I didn’t understand the story they had woven together for me—obviously an excuse to keep from telling me the truth. Now, at nineteen years old, I felt nauseated, driving to confront my mother about the lies we’d been living all these years.

I tried to breathe deeply through my nose, hoping the pull from the oxygen would steady me. Why does everything have to be a secret?

Odd memories entered my mind, like Charlene at her beauty shop trailer house with women coming and going all day long. While that was not unusual, I thought back to the times some women were crying or appeared upset while she styled their hair. Always having the last word, apparently Aunt Charlene had appointed herself the local counselor, confidant, and advisor.

What does it all mean? And what of Lucas? What is going to happen to him? Does he know?

Drive, Jennalee drive! My mind was like a Ferris wheel, spinning round and round. Why was all of this coming back to me?

I had always felt different and could never explain why. It was like I was wearing an outfit that I didn’t pick out for myself. I still didn’t know the extent of the deception, the deceit, the manipulation. What about Aunt Charlene? First Lucas, and now this. Charlene, always the manipulator.

I was nearly to my mother’s house in Dallas.

What’s ahead for me? An explanation? The truth?

I was paralyzed with fear, afraid of what I might find out.

Chapter Two

My name is Jennalee Campbell Secrest. It was 1962 when I came into the world.

In my early years, our family lived in Pleasant Valley, a small residential neighborhood located in southeast Dallas County. Bracken Road unofficially bounds the area to the north, Red Rock Creek to the west, the Trinity River to the south, and Cheyenne Road to the east.

Pleasant Valley connected Main Street to Lake June Road and Beauregard Boulevard. City Hall, the police station, the city library, and local grocery store circle the town square.

You can find Cowboy’s, the local diner and a staple of the community, at the end of the square. Mulberry, oak, and native pecan trees line Main Street, providing much-needed shade during the hot Texas summer. Over the years, the town square had become a comforting gathering place for the local townspeople. After a morning coffee at Cowboy’s, some of the older folks move to the benches next to the town War memorial to enjoy each other’s company and talk about times gone by.

At night, the town square served as a place for the young people of the town to unite, discover, and be there for each other. From time to time, brawls broke out, but, for the most part, it was a refuge for the young people. Times were changing, and it helped to have a friend.

The first settlers to Pleasant Valley arrived in the 1840s. My famous aunt Charlene was born in the mid-1930s; when she grew up, she captured the town by storm.

In the beginning, I lived about five blocks away from Aunt Charlene, with my parents, Emma Cherie and Duff Campbell. My grandparents and other relatives lived either within a few blocks or just a few miles away. Since we were all so close, there were weekend parties for the grownups at Charlene’s. We were put to bed early, as we had church every Sunday—no matter what—and then, after church, everyone would gather together in my aunt’s backyard to listen to the Dallas Cowboys play football over the radio and, of course, to eat barbecue. The aroma from my uncle’s smoking barbecue pit was so tantalizing, it’s a smell I’ll never forget. That happened year-round, from the football season through baseball season.

Things suddenly changed—we stopped going to my aunt’s house. At the time, I was too young to understand why. All I knew was that I missed seeing my cousins.

At first, life seemed like one big piece of sweet cherry pie, but as I got older, I sadly discovered that my perfect fantasy life was not reality. Or that the truth of my life was very different from the picture I had originally painted.

I remember being afraid.

Chapter Three

Ialways wondered what it would be like to go back in time and witness the younger years of my Aunt Charlene and my mother, Emma Cherie, when they were teenagers, young adults, and newlyweds.

I heard Charlene was the Queen of the Ball, or, at least, the queen of Pleasant Valley. She was blonde, beautiful, smart, opinionated, and had a perfect figure that all the guys fantasized about.

Her senior year, Charlene was a high school cheerleader, homecoming queen, and on the student council. Everyone wanted to be seen with Charlene, and all of the girls wanted to look like her. She was charming and captivating with her southern drawl, and, like my mother described her to me one time, Jennalee, your Aunt Charlene was the brightest star in the South.

Her one mistake was getting pregnant by her high school sweetheart and local football hero, Noble Aldridge. When I was older, I heard that calamity caused quite a commotion within the family, since Charlene was supposed to attend North Texas State University to study fashion.

Charlene was going to be the first female in the family to go to college. That would have been quite an accomplishment since, during that era, women were only expected to graduate from high school, get married, and have children.

You might call what happened to Charlene a big ol’ skeleton in the family closet that would eventually fall out.

My grandmother used to say that when a secret was revealed it didn’t kill you, but made you stronger because you were facing the truth. Maybe.

Poor Noble, he was two years older than Charlene and on his way to becoming a famous football player at the University of Texas. So everyone thought. His family, well-to-do types, owned the local auto dealership and a couple of gas stations.

It was not a happy situation.

Oh, Noble moved back and did the right thing by marrying Charlene.

I remember at one of our family reunions, I overheard my aunts and my mother quietly talking about the situation between Charlene and Noble—of course when Charlene wasn’t around.

They all grew up and went to school together, so they had a special insight as to what happened. In the kitchen, you could always find the women talking and gossiping. Aunt Annette, one of my mother’s sisters, thought Noble was never the same when he had to leave his first love, playing football.

Another time, I heard one of my mother’s friends say, It was no wonder Charlene got pregnant, as much humping as they did in the bed of his Chevy truck.

I didn’t understand what my mother’s friend meant at the time until I was older. Apparently, Charlene loved her man. Maybe that friend was a little jealous, too.

Well, the two families thought they covered up the gossip, however, that was hard to do in such a small town.

Although faced with scandal, Charlene’s personality would not allow anything—not even marriage and a baby—to interrupt her mission.

While it may not have been paradise at the Aldridge house, you would have never known it from Charlene. Six months to the day that she married Noble, Charlene had my cousin, Rachel. Within a couple of months, Charlene was off to the International School of Beauty, next to Oak Cliff, in South Dallas. She was training to become a beauty operator. Charlene told everyone she was learning beauty consulting. I suspect Charlene thought that sounded more professional.

Charlene was years ahead of her time. She felt that she was making an important career move, since she wasn’t able to go to college and, of course, Charlene wasn’t about to sacrifice her image of being the beauty queen of Pleasant Valley.

She was born Charlene Christabelle Maurice, the last of four children. She was the baby sister, twenty years younger than my grandfather, John Truitt Maurice.

John was the first-born son; Delores, the second child, was-considered uncannily smart and Iva Jean was next. Sadly, Iva Jean contracted polio as a young child and lived a difficult life. Then surprisingly, ten years later, Charlene was born.

For years, everyone talked about how Charlene was the most beautiful baby they had ever seen. My grandfather would tell me, She was a stinker, that Charley, chuckling to himself.

I knew he adored her.

Even though Charlene was my great-aunt, she was only a couple of years older than my mother, Emma Cheri Maurice. That was why they were not only relatives, but best friends.

My mother was the oldest daughter of John and my grandmother, Clara Mae Maurice. The family especially adored Emma because my grandmother had lost her first baby, a boy they named John Truitt Maurice, Jr., two weeks after he was born. He died from a heart defect that no one knew about. My grandparents were devastated at the time.

Everyone looked at Emma as if she was a miracle, recalled my grandfather.

My mother was different from Charlene, but beautiful in her own way. She was tall and slender, with light brown hair and golden-brown eyes. My mother ran with the popular crowd in high school. She was considered the shy, sweet, polite girl, always well-dressed and soft-spoken.

You’ve got the whole world fooled, don’t ya, Emma? Charlene would tell my mother.

You have everyone spellbound with those sweet brown eyes, Charlene said laughing. You may be sweet, but there’s a bar of steel in your back.

My aunt was right all along about my mother.

One day, my mother said to me—after a long phone call and without thinking of the consequences, but clearly frustrated over what had transpired during the call—Jennalee, Charlene sure enjoys playing chess with people’s lives.

I would recall those words years later, realizing all along that my mother knew the real Charlene.

For Emma Cherie, Charlene would do anything. That’s how Charlene determined my destiny.

Chapter Four

Spring 1958

Looking in the mirror, Charlene carefully curled her hair to frame her face as she finished applying her makeup. She gazed at herself and a beautiful reflection crossed her face. She was filled with self-satisfaction. This emotion came from her conviction that she was a devoted wife, loyal friend, and good Samaritan.

But Charlene had a flip side to her personality.

In her mind, at age twenty-three, Charlene justified everything she did—especially when it involved other people. She convinced herself that her actions were motivated by the sheer goodness of her heart and her desire to help everyone solve their problems.

She didn’t believe she was driven by her own self-interest. She operated with indifference to the consequences of her actions, constantly meddling in people’s lives because she thought they needed her help.

Charlene, being the golden girl, could get away with anything. Charlene liked to wear tight pants that showed off her perfect rear end, she talked about getting better sex before it was acceptable, and she believed she set the fashion and beauty trends in Pleasant Valley.

Charlene opened her beauty shop, called Charlene’s House of Style, in a trailer house parked on the side of her house. Business picked up fast, once word circulated around town. Charlene was the only beauty operator in town besides the local barber. Before she opened her shop, most of the women in town drove to Dallas to get their hair styled or they did it themselves.

Charlene looked down at her watch. It was time to start another day. Walking out of the master bedroom, Charlene went into the kitchen where Noble was sitting next to Rachel at the kitchen table, reading the paper while Rachel ate breakfast.

Darling’, can you take Rachel to nursery school while I run down to the post office?

I’ll take her on my way to work, Noble answered, gazing up from his newspaper to look at his beautiful daughter. She smiled back at him in between bites of cereal. Rachel attended a private preschool while Charlene worked.

Charlene gave Rachel a hug and a kiss. She leaned over and planted a kiss on Noble’s cheek. She stepped back and gazed at Noble, thinking how handsome he looked and how they were such an attractive couple.

Noble looked up at Charlene and faintly smiled. Don’t worry, I’ll see you after work.

Thank ya, sugar. I’ll see you two later.

For now, Charlene never gave a second thought to the fact that Noble didn’t complain as he usually did when she asked him to help her out. She figured he was giving her a break today.

The sunshine gleamed down on Charlene in all its glory as she stepped out on the porch. So Charlene thought.

Walking down the steps, Charlene knew she had to hurry before her first customer arrived. Kolleen Kay wanted a permanent and a haircut, and she was always on time. Charlene laughed out loud to herself. Kolleen was neurotic about being stylish. So much so, she carried fashion magazines with her everywhere she went. She would pull the magazine out in a store and look through it, double checking to make sure she was buying the right blouse or pair of pants in the photograph. It would not be unusual for her to have clippings of the latest fashion trends fall out of her purse as she tried to find her billfold.

Charlene closed the gate of her white picket fence, stopped, and glanced down at her outfit to make sure all was perfect. Charlene’s hair was naturally golden-blonde and her long, winding curls flowed down her back. There was just enough volume that she knew her big Texas hair was the envy of most of the women in town, probably in Dallas, too. Charlene admired what she was wearing, thinking she could dress better than any of those Dallas women.

Charlene wore skintight, hot pink Capri pants and an avocado-green blouse that showed a little bit of cleavage—not too much, just enough to be a mystery and have ’em wonder. Her green eye shadow matched her blouse and brightened her blue eyes, just like she so carefully planned. Her pink sandals clicked on the pavement as she walked. Charlene’s raspy voice, though, was what mesmerized everyone.

Good morning, Mrs. Waynewright, Charlene called out to her neighbor, who was working intensely in her flowerbed.

I’ll be sure and get my donation to the church later today. I know we need to get clothes over to those poor girls on the south side.

The donated clothes were part of a service project called Operation Angels, sponsored by Charlene’s church, the First Baptist Church of Pleasant Valley. Charlene organized the collection of clothes, shoes, and money to buy toiletries to give to the girls who came from impoverished families.

Who knows what condition the hand-me-down clothes are in that those poor girls are wearing, Charlene dramatically told some of the congregation at a recent meeting, trying to encourage more donations for her project.

Charlene knew most of these families were lucky to have food on the table.

The girls could sign up through the local high school. Four times a year the Church women set up shop beside the high school gymnasium and the teenage girls picked out clothes for the season. A local good Samaritan donated money so a goody bag of toiletries filled with shampoo, hairspray, and, of course, lipstick and nail polish could be passed out to each of the girls.

Charlene considered it an important contribution because she had been raised to volunteer and help those less fortunate.

We need to get those clothes delivered sometime this week, Mrs. Waynewright answered in her soft voice. Those girls deserve something.

They certainly do deserve a nice outfit, why, every girl needs at least one or two outfits that make her pretty as a picture, Charlene said. Have a blessed day, Mrs. Waynewright.

The older woman smiled as Charlene went on her way, as everyone did whenever she was around.

With her heels clicking as fast as she was walking, Charlene turned toward downtown Pleasant Valley. Charlene enjoyed walking, breathing in the fresh air, giving her a chance to think and plan her day. Charlene was neurotic about things going the way she planned.

It was warm outside today, but not too hot. As she turned the corner, she could see Main Street. Her town, Charlene thought.

Pleasant Valley relied mostly on agriculture, cattle, and oil for revenue. The town never wanted to rely on industry for survival. It was a family town.

Even though the economy climbed up and down over the years, businesses remained less prominent than the residential areas.

Charlene always felt she belonged here.

Good morning, Rich, Charlene said as she waited for her friend’s husband to pass through the door at the post office. Did you like Lynn Anne’s new hair color? I thought it gave her such a classic look, although she doesn’t need help with that.

Rich laughed and smiled as he looked down at Charlene. Yes, you’ve done well, Charlene. I’ll tell her again how beautiful she looks.

Oh my, Rich, you charmer you, how I’d like to take you home with me if those are the kind of compliments I’d get all the time.

Noble might not like that.

Charlene gave Rich her biggest smile, waving goodbye as she went inside the post office.

She thought about how Lynn Anne and Rich Dickson had been her friends for years, since grade school.

Charlene stood still for a moment. There was no one else inside the building this early. The main post office wasn’t open yet. She deposited her letters in the mailbox and then stopped for a moment to make sure she was still alone. It was time for the morning pep talk she routinely gave herself, her daily ritual. "I am great! My life is great!

And I will do good for my Lord!" she quietly prayed.

That done, Charlene looked down at her watch. She knew she had to hurry if she was going to check on Priscilla before going to work.

Priscilla was a friend of Charlene’s. Though not a part of her inner circle, Charlene always felt sorry for the girl, knowing she was living with her grandmother after being abandoned by her parents.

The town was starting to come alive on this spring day. People began to leave for work or were on their way to breakfast at Cowboy’s.

Charlene quickly walked the two blocks to the diner where Priscilla worked. She was worried because she knew about the married police officer Priscilla had been sneaking off with, although Priscilla had no idea that Charlene had found out that important bit of information.

Charlene deemed him nothing but a two-timing piece of scum who thought he could do whatever he wanted with women, since he believed he was such a stud. Charlene was especially worried that Priscilla was being pulled into a dead-end love trap with nothing but heartache destined to happen. She wanted to help her.

Priscilla came by the beauty shop last week for a haircut. Charlene knew it was for something more. Luckily, she was the last client of the day. Priscilla’s dark hair was thick and long, and this made it easy for Charlene to cut and dry while they talked.

Priscilla became so animated when she talked about her new boyfriend that it made Charlene want to go crazy, although she didn’t say anything, she just listened to her friend.

Charlene promised herself she was going to save Priscilla.

Charlene wondered why women would let themselves get involved with married men that end up turning into disastrous relationships, or, as the saying goes, Nowhere but way down South in the gutter.

Charlene walked up to the front of Cowboy’s diner and smiled when she saw the huge neon sign out front. The r in diner blinked on and off throughout the day. It always had.

Charlene mused that if Harold Gregory ever fixed that sign, it wouldn’t be the same.

Cowboy’s was packed, as usual, with the locals drinking their morning coffee and eating breakfast. No matter what time of day, anytime you walk inside the diner, the aroma of freshly baked apple, peach, or blueberry pie filled your nostrils. To the left was the old-fashioned soda fountain with a black and white Formica counter top and chrome and swivel stools topped with bright red vinyl. Kids were in and out, getting a Coke or ice cream.

The original place opened in the 1930s. Harold Gregory, a former navy man, bought and renovated Cowboy’s nearly