Why My Mother Lied

By Eve E Keim

Erin Cahill lives in a small central Texas town, life there is quiet and routine. Until the phone call that upended her life. It was a family friend telling her that her mother was in the hospital. Erin immediatly packs a bag and drove the 375 miles to Houston. Once there Erin discovers that her mother, Kate, has been harboring a secret. A mystery that Erin,  with the help of her Aunt Maggie, is determined to uncover.

 

Why my mother lied is a story about families spanning generations. Some are not so good people but most were good people trying to live their lives amid secrets, lies, deceptions, and circumstances beyond their control. And at the heart of this story is Kate's fifty-year-old mystery.

 

The tale starts in nineteenth-century Italy, where the family history begins,then goes to Chicago and eventually to twenty-first-century Texas. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eve E Keim
• Release date: Oct 6, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215100547

Eve E Keim

Lives in central Texas with her husband Steve.

Book preview

1 – THE CALL

LIVING IN A SMALL COMMUNITY can be humdrum, but there is something to be said about always running into someone you know at the grocery store; of course, that means never leaving the house without putting on makeup, which I never would. My mother taught me well. My name is Erin Cahill; I’m a fifty-year-old empty-nester. My husband, Michael, and I live in Central Texas. It’s a tourist town, free of drama. The sightseers stay in the downtown area, so I seldom encounter them. I have my circle of friends. We go to lunch and the occasional movie, but I’m a homebody. My life is quiet and mundane.

Until the phone call that upended my life...It was my mother’s friend Claudia with dreadful news. After talking to Claudia, I called my husband Michael, and he answered on the first ring, What’s going on? he said, because I never call him at work. He’s an orthopedist, so he’s either seeing patients or in surgery most of the day, and a call from me is rare, so he knew something was up.

I’m packing a bag, I explain, and leaving for Houston.

Why?

My mother is in the hospital. Claudia discovered her lying on the kitchen floor; she’d been there for several hours before Claudia got to the house.

Aww, jeez, is she OK? Did they check for fractures?

I’m not sure. Claudia said Mom was alert and talking, but the paramedics believe she might have had a stroke. It was just dumb luck that it was their grocery day; there’s no telling what would have happened if Claudia hadn’t come.

And who is Claudia again?

She’s Mom’s friend. The woman with dark curly hair, who at Daddy’s wake kept running in and out of the kitchen, making sure the caterers were on top of maintaining the flow of food; she’s the one who made that yummy dessert.

OK, yes, I remember her. How do they know each other?

They’ve both been going to the same church for ages. The woman is a saint, putting up with my mother all these years. When Mom had to stop driving, Claudia volunteered to help. So, twice a week, she drives her to the grocery store, doctor’s and hair appointments, whatever she needs.

So, how safe is Claudia to be behind the wheel?

Claudia is an excellent driver; she also delivers meals on wheels; she’s closer to our age, a widow, and just became an empty nester, so she was glad for something to keep busy. Anyway, she dialed 911, and after they took Mom away in the ambulance, Claudia called me. So, I have to go. I’ll call you when I get there.

Drive safe; love you.

2 – YOUR MOM’S A PIP

MY MOTHER LIVES IN Houston, and I live 375 miles away. There are no direct flights, so driving was my only option. I didn’t know how long I would be in Houston, so I loaded my suitcase with as much clothing as I thought I would need for several weeks. I grabbed a bag of popcorn and some granola bars to snack on, so I wouldn’t have to stop to eat. I threw everything in my four-year-old BMW and headed out. I had the latest John Grisham book on tape, which would help keep me awake while I drove. I will be traveling through Austin at rush hour. That will be a pain, making the long drive at least six hours, maybe longer.

It’s the middle of August, and in this part of central Texas, unlike the Houston humidity, it’s hot and arid, and the drought conditions are apparent. The fields are brown and limp, the scenery non-existent except for the Pray for Rain billboards.

I just made it to the hospital before visiting hours were over. I passed Claudia on her way out of Mom’s room; I hugged her and thanked her for all her help. Oh sweetie, I’m glad I was there; as I told you on the phone, she was alert when the paramedics were treating her. One of them asked me how old she was, and I made the mistake of telling them she was eighty; your mother just about levitated off the floor and declared, ‘I am not. I’m barely seventy-nine!’

Ha, that sounds like her.

Anyway, I brought your mom some things from home, Claudia added. She needed some makeup and something to cover the tacky hospital gown.

Well, of course, she wouldn’t be caught dead in anything so dowdy.

Right? Well, I better be off. Call if you need anything, she called out as she hustled down the hall with a hand wave.

A young nurse with a ponytail and pink scrubs was in Mom’s room. It was a deluxe private suite that looked more like a hotel room with a comfortable sofa, a bathroom with a large shower, plenty of counter space, and a bidet. The nurse was changing the bag on the IV and checking her blood pressure.

Hi, I said as I entered the room. I’m Mrs. Gill’s daughter, Erin Cahill.

Oh, hey there, I’m Jude; she was asking for you. Visiting hours are over, but I’ll give you a few more minutes.

Thanks. How is my mother doing?

Your mother is doing better. She was a bit dehydrated when she came in, we had difficulty finding a vein to start the IV, so there might be a little bruising. She still has some irregular heart rhythms, so we’re monitoring. You can talk to her doctor tomorrow; he’s the best person to tell you what’s happening with your mom.

OK, thanks.

I bent close to Mom’s bed, touched her hand, and whispered, Mom? It’s me, Erin; I’m here, OK? Mom, can you hear me?

Her eyes were closed, so I wasn’t sure if she was sleeping or not.

I hear you, she mumbled.

OK, they won’t let me stay past visiting hours, so I’ll check into the hotel, but I’ll be back in the morning.

OK, thanks for coming.

You’re welcome. I kissed her cheek and left.

I always worry about my mom, especially since my stepdad passed away ten years ago. My stepdad, Richard Gill, who was president and CEO of Gill Enterprises, wasn’t just her husband; he was her protector, but since his death, she has been living all alone. She lives in a grand house Richard built for her. I tried to get Mom to sell that place and come live with me, but she insisted it was out of the question. Mom preferred remaining in her home and claimed she didn’t mind living alone. The problem is driving; she does OK in her neighborhood but navigating the Houston highways is a nightmare. So, she stopped using them, which was limiting her from getting to most of her favorite places. Hence, her friend Claudia was a godsend.

Mom loves her enormous house; it has been her home for forty-five years, but it’s far too big; it seems silly that she insists on staying there; things might have to change now.

I checked into the hotel, called my husband Michael and my children, and then called Aunt Maggie in Chicago. Aunt Maggie was Mom’s younger and only living sister; her older sister Bridgette, also known as Biddie, had passed away the year before. I told Aunt Maggie about what had happened.

Didn’t she have one of those gizmos you can push when you fall and can’t get up? Maggie asked.

If she does, she doesn’t wear it. I’m sure there’s one safe in a drawer somewhere.

Your mom’s a pip, she said. Is she having any other health problems? Your mom never tells me anything.

She doesn’t like to talk about her health. But last time I was at the house, I snooped through her medicine cabinet and found pills for high blood pressure and cholesterol, plus I know she doesn’t eat right.

I hate that she lives by herself, Maggie declared.

Me too! Maybe this brief episode will knock some sense into her.

I hope so. Listen, do you think I should come down?

Oh, I don’t think so, I said. Mom will be fine if I can get her to see reason.

Well, good luck, sweetie, and thanks for calling; by the way, what’s the name of that hospital? I want to send flowers; it might cheer her up. I gave her the information and then said good night.

I DROVE INTO THE HOSPITAL’S parking lot the following day, searching for a shady spot to park my car. Houston in August is miserable; hot, and humid; even with the sun shield in place, the vehicle would be unbearable when it was time to leave. As I got out of the car, my sunglasses immediately fogged up from the humidity, and I could feel my hair begin to frizz.

Walking through the front doors was a relief; so lovely and cool inside; this was one of those high-end institutions designed by a hotelier, with private suites and a garden with skylights surrounding the lobby. The gardens, so they say, are deemed to provide calming and charming nature views to reduce stress and improve clinical outcomes. However, there was still the disinfectant smell that all hospitals have. I went to the receptionist and asked her where I could locate Dr. Matthews.

Well, his office is in the Medical Center Complex, two blocks away. He’s already finished his rounds, she said, but he should be back later after office hours.

Oh, can I leave a message for him?

Sure thing, hon.

My name is Erin Cahill; I’m Katherine Gill’s daughter in suite two. Would you tell him I’d like to talk to him about my mother?

I’ll give him the message, hon.

Thank you. I resisted the urge to add hon to my thank you.

Mom was sitting up, looking better than she had the night before. She had on her lime green nightgown that always brought out the sparkle in her green eyes, and it looked like she had put on some makeup, and she or someone had stylishly clipped her curly hair back. Mother consistently looked younger than her years, closer to sixty than eighty. She kept up with her monthly facials and continued to dye her hair the same color she had in her youth, although now it was a shade or two lighter with stylish white streaks surrounding her face.

I kissed her cheek, and then asked, How are you feeling?

Bad! These people won’t let me sleep, in and out, bothering me all night long; how am I supposed to get better if they won’t let me sleep?

Yeah, I know, but they need to check on you; it’s their job. And despite your lack of sleep, you look pretty. Do you recall I was here last night?

I remember you didn’t stay long.

Visiting hours were over; they made me leave. Claudia said you had a stroke.

That’s what the EMT told her, but I don’t see what makes him think that; frankly, I expect it’s a bunch of hooey.

So, what do you think happened?

I just got a little lightheaded and lost my balance; I don’t appreciate why everyone’s making such a big fuss; I didn’t break anything; that should please your bone-doctor husband.

Yes, Mom, Michael is thrilled that nothing broke, he was concerned about that. So, you’re saying you had a dizzy spell?

I didn’t say it was a dizzy spell; I just became a little lightheaded; that’s all it was!

Uh-huh, well, I’ll talk to your doctor later, see what he says.

He just wants me to stay here longer. It’s a racket, you know. They find out you have good insurance, and everyone conspires will bleed them dry.

Come on, Mom, they wouldn’t keep you here for no reason.

Huh, she said, rolling her eyes.

This is a pleasant room, I said, noticing the accent wall with beautiful artwork and a stunning view from her window.

They initially put me in this dinky room when I first got here, but Doctor Matthews, bless his heart, had me moved.

Doctor Matthews knows you well. But mom, we need to talk about what happens when you get discharged.

What do you mean?

You can’t go to your big house and live alone anymore.

Why not?

Why not? I repeated. Because you had a stroke, or you’re getting lightheaded, I responded with air quotes, and it could happen again, and next time maybe no one will find you in time.

So, what do you suggest?

I think you should come live with me. The kids are gone; there are plenty of bedrooms.

NO!

Can we at least talk about it?

No. I know you mean well, but I’m fine, and I certainly don’t want to live in your little Podunk town.

You’re fine? You think that’s what Doctor Matthews is going to say? I asked, ignoring that Podunk comment.

Well, I’m sure he will agree with you, she said, raising her voice, but I don’t care; I’m not leaving my home.

OK, please don’t get upset, but we will talk about this later, I said as a nurse entered and checked the monitors surrounding Mom’s bed.

A whiteboard on the wall next to Mom’s bed had the names of the three distinctive nurses. They each wore various-colored scrubs. One or the other came in and out all morning, checking on one thing or another. And then, after three o’clock, there was another set of three nurses.

Claudia came by and had apparently put the word out to the congregation, because Father Thomas from St. Agnes Church showed up and offered a prayer then right after the ladies from the alter society visited too. After they left, they served my mother supper. There were some dietary restrictions, but it could pass as gourmet dining. As she was finishing, Doctor Matthews came by and confirmed what I had feared.

How are you feeling, Mrs. Gill? he asked, while checking her chart.

I’m fine. Now, can I go home?

Not yet, Mrs. Gill. Is it OK to talk freely in front of your daughter?

Oh, why not? Erin will pester me after you leave; she might as well hear it from the horse’s mouth.

Your mom’s chances of having another stroke are worrisome, he said.

So, it was a stroke? I asked as I glanced at my mother.

I’m afraid so. Plus, my concern is that she has diabetes, high blood pressure, and heart disease. She can control these things with medication and a strict diet. However, the stroke left her with slight paralysis on her right side, affecting her leg and dominant right arm movement. I will have her start some physical therapy while she’s here. Then, when she is healthy enough, I’ll have her transferred to a rehab hospital. She’ll get some much-needed physical therapy to promote strengthening her muscles.

What happens after that? I asked. Can she go home and live alone?

Oh, I don’t think so, he replied. She’s going to need help.

I’m right here, Mom interrupted. Stop talking about me like I’m not here.

You’re right, Mrs. Gill; I apologize, he responded. I’ll have the nurse give you some pamphlets. There are some excellent care facilities and some in-home options. Why don’t you and your daughter look them over. He gave me his card, and then added, Call the office if you have questions.

Thank you, I muttered as he walked out the door.

The nurse brought in the brochures. I read through them all. I hated the thought of my mother having to rely on strangers. Not only that, but I’ve heard horror stories about home health care and nursing homes, but what choice did I have? There was this one place that caught my eye. It looked like a place I would want to go to; it almost looked like a resort spa; there were pictures of lovely, colorful bedrooms. It had a hair salon, water aerobics, and a massage therapist.

OK, Mom, I said, you heard what the doctor said, so if you’re sure you don’t want to go home with me, let’s discuss an assisted living facility. There is a fancy one close to where you live.

She gave me one of her glaring death stares. You must be joking... No, she declared emphatically, I want to go home.

Again, Mom, you can’t live alone anymore.

Well then, just let me die, she whimpered, playing the guilt card. I will not live the rest of my life in some old folk’s home.

It might not be that bad, I suggested.

No, she repeated, obviously irritated. I’m tired, and I would rather not discuss this anymore.

It was getting late, so I said, OK, Mom, but this isn’t over; I’ll be back in the morning. I love you. I said and kissed her cheek.

Huh, I heard her grunt as I walked out.

3 – AUNT MAGGIE

THE FOLLOWING DAY, when I stepped into my mom’s room, it shocked me to discover my Aunt Maggie sitting in an armchair next to Mom’s bed. It had been almost twenty years since I last saw her. She was older but looked as spry as ever, elegantly attired, makeup perfectly applied. Her hair was stylish, short and spiky and it had gone silvery-white. I recognized her immediately.

Aunt Maggie?

She rose and crossed the room with the energy of a twenty-year-old; she hugged me, held my face in her hands, and said, Oh my goodness, look at you, good grief, you are lovely, you look so much like Hannah, doesn’t she Kate?

Mom didn’t respond.

Who? I inquired, but no one responded. Hello...? Who’s Hannah? I peered at my mom, who had turned pale, and then gave her sister an expression, instructing her not to speak another word.

Who’s Hannah? I repeated.

Nobody, my mother declared.

Well, it must be someone! Aunt Maggie thinks I look like her. I turned my attention back to Aunt Maggie, who is Hannah? There was an unpleasant silence. What’s the big secret? I pleaded. Someone tell me!

Aunt Maggie looked uncomfortable, but it would have to come from her if I wanted an answer. Aunt Maggie stared at Mom and said, I have never understood what happened, Kate, but whatever it was, it was a long time ago.

I think I’m having a heart attack, my mother said, clutching at her chest.

No, you’re not, Aunt Maggie said. You’re trying to change the subject, and it will not work.

I don’t want to talk about it.

Fine, said Aunt Maggie. Look, I need some coffee. Erin and I will be right back.

I’ll probably be dead when you get back.

We’ll be back soon. Try not to die while we’re gone, Aunt Maggie asserted as we left the room.

Huh.

There’s a coffee shop down the road from the hospital. But we decided to find a vending machine in the hospital rather than go out in the heat. We inquired at the nurse’s station. There aren’t any vending machines, the nurse said, but there is a Starbucks on the second floor.

I don’t know how I missed that! We headed that way; as we walked down the hall, I asked, When did you get here?

Last night, I called the house and your mom’s cell phone, but both went straight to voice mail, so I found a hotel. Aren’t you staying at your mom’s house?

No, I’m in a hotel too.

Why?

I don’t know; the hotel is close by, and it just seemed easier.

Well, I’ve checked out and planned to stay at Kate’s house while I’m here.

OK.

Is that going to be a problem?

Not for me.

Your mom tells me you want to stick her in a home.

Oh my God, I am not sticking her in a home, but she refuses to come live with me. The home she’s referring to is this assisted living facility nearby. And it looks like a five-star hotel. She won’t even talk about it...Of course, I haven’t seen it in person; advertising can be deceptive, but she won’t even consider it.

Have you considered home health care?

You mean to have people in her home with her?

Yeah.

That’s not an option; I immediately dismissed the idea. I knew mother would hate that; I hired a lady one time to come in to clean for her after Dad died. Mom fired her after an hour; she said she didn’t want a stranger roaming around her home, looking at her things.

Your mom’s a pip.

We found the Starbucks, got our coffee, and then went down to find a quiet place in the indoor garden to sit; I looked at my aunt and asked again, OK, tell me, who’s Hannah?

4 – WHO IS HANNAH?

MAGGIE TOOK A DEEP breath. Hannah was your grandmother, she said.

I thought her name was Trudy.

No, Trudy was mine and Kate’s mother, and our dad was Kevin. I’m talking about your other grandmother, your biological paternal grandmother.

What? I don’t understand; how did you know her?

What do you know about him? About David, your biological father?

Mom told me he grew up in an orphanage or someplace like that, worked his way through med school, she met him at the end of World War II, they got married, and then he went to Korea and died in some accident.

Huh.

Huh, what?

Well, that’s not exactly true.

Which part?

The orphan part. David was not an orphan; he had parents, Hannah and Luke.

Seriously? Why would Mom tell me he was an orphan? So, what about aunts, uncles, and cousins?

I don’t know, but I don’t think so.

Why did Mom want me to assume he was an orphan? I don’t get it.

I don’t know.

What do you know?

I know your mom met David’s parents, Hannah and Luke, shortly after your mom and David got engaged. And our entire family met them when they came up to Chicago from Bloomington, where they lived, for a small engagement party. Then Kate, Mom, Biddie, and I went there for a wedding shower that Hannah hosted; we saw their home; it was very, very nice, huge. Luke was a doctor, and Hannah was a nurse.

What kind of doctor was he? I asked.

"He was a GP, I think; they had a family practice with a clinic next to their house. It was charming; Luke and Hannah were sweet, lovely people. The wedding was elegant, everybody was happy. Your mom and David were so obviously in love.

Your mom found out she was pregnant right after David left for Korea. We all knew because of the morning sickness, but she didn’t want anyone else to know until she told David. She wrote him, telling him she was pregnant, but he never wrote back.

Maggie got a bit emotional as she remembered what had happened. She stood, wiped a tear from her eye, and seemed to inspect one  of the plants. What kind of plant is this? she asked, changing the subject.

I have no idea...please go on, Aunt Maggie; tell me what you know.

She took a deep breath. So, she continued, David was in some accident while in Korea and died. Your mom was inconsolable; Hannah was the only other person in as much anguish. They grieved together; we all did. The only bright moment was when your mom told Luke and Hannah that she was pregnant.

Well, I said, that part about my father dying in Korea is the only thing I already knew. Sorry, this is wild; go on, please.

OK, so Hannah and Luke decided they couldn’t stand being so far away from their only grandchild, you, and so the Kelly’s sold the Bloomington practice and moved to Chicago. It was the perfect solution because Luke’s dad, Ben Kelly, also a doctor, was retiring and moving to Florida, so they took over his clinic. The place was a bit dated and run down. They closed it for a while, added to the clinic, and included a place for kids to play. Hannah painted the walls with a whimsical tree and cute baby animals; it was a real fixer-upper, but when they were through, it looked terrific. The neighborhood wasn’t great, but Luke grew up there as a boy, and Hannah had lived right down the road, and they were both up for the challenge. It was across town from where we lived, about a forty minute drive. I remember that Kate insisted on helping, and they invited her to stay with them for a while. She did; they were adorable; I mean, nothing appeared amiss. They were lovely to her, and she seemed to love them; I mean, what’s the worst that could happen, right? They were David’s parents; I mean, David was a sweetheart of a man. I hate that you never got to know him.

Well, that brought a tear to my eye. I think about him all the time. Richard was an incredible dad; he took me to father–daughter dances, taught me to ride a bike, offered to beat up the first boy who broke my heart, and then walked me down the aisle when I married Michael. But I’ve often wondered what might have been if my father had lived.

That’s understandable... So anyway, you were born about seven months later. Hannah was staying with us when Kate went into labor; she held Kate’s hand all the way to the hospital. After Kate came home, Hannah left, but would come back to see you and your mom almost every weekend. She could not get enough of you; she would dress you, feed you, rock you to sleep; she was the epitome of the doting grandmother. Then one day, when you were around five or six months old, a large envelope arrived in the mail; inside were two smaller envelopes, one with Kate’s name on it and the other was for Hannah and Luke. It was from David’s commanding officer, a man injured in the same accident that killed David. After his recovery, he sent his condolences and wanted to say some things about David. Your mom let me read it; I remember it was a lovely and moving letter. Instead of forwarding Luke and Hannah’s note, your mom took a drive to deliver the other letter in person and was going to spend the week. But Kate came back that same night, and Erin, I don’t know what it was, but something strange happened. Your mom was different and moody. She kept saying she was fine but wasn’t. She would jump at the slightest noise. The thing is, Hannah never showed up at the house again, and Kate never went back to their home. Their relationship had just ended. When we asked Kate about what went on, she claimed it was personal. And she didn’t want to talk about it and never mentioned them again; she just acted as if they never existed.

I was stunned, But...why?

Well! That is the sixty-four-hundred-dollar question, isn’t it? Nobody knows except Kate, and I assume Hannah and Luke.

Did anybody try to contact them?

Yes, my mother did, but she got a recording saying the phone was no longer in service.

OK, but...hold on, my phone is vibrating. Looking at the ID, I said to Maggie, It’s mother. Hello Mom.

Dr. Matthews is here, she declared, and wants to discuss something with you.

Right now?

Yes, he’s on his rounds; he’s a busy man. He can’t be waiting all day for you.

OK, Mom, I’ll be right there.

I’ve got to go back, I told Aunt Maggie. We’ll get back to this later.

On the way back to Mom’s room, Aunt Maggie said, Your mom will be upset that I’ve told you all this; for whatever reason, she didn’t want you to know.

I wish I understood why; I don’t get it; what could have happened? After all these years, what could it possibly matter?

I don’t know, but I was thinking, why don’t we do a little investigating on our own? I bet we can find out more on our own than we’ll ever be able to draw out of your mom; besides, I want to avoid getting her upset when she just had a stroke.

Yeah, I know you’re right, but honestly, I want to put a bright light on her face and make her talk!

When we walked in, Dr. Matthews wasn’t in the room. Where is he, I asked?

He can’t be waiting for you all day, mother said. He was going to finish his rounds and said he would be back.

OK.

Katherine, declared Maggie, I’m going to stay at your house while I’m here.

Oh no, you can’t.

Why not?

Because it’s a mess. I haven’t been well, and it’s difficult for me to climb the stairs, so I haven’t been able to clean as I should.

That’s OK. I can have it spic and span in no time.

Don’t be silly, mother responded. It’s a big house.

Erin will help me, Maggie declared, and then added, Right, Erin? After she saw the horrified look on my face.

Before my mother could form another excuse, Dr. Matthews breezed in. Hello, he said, Your mom is doing well. I’ve arranged for her to start rehab in about fifteen minutes, he announced, glancing at his watch.

OK, what do I need to do? I asked.

Well, right now, nothing.

OK, so what do we need to discuss?

That’s it; your mom said you needed to hear it directly from me.

I see; thank you, Dr. Matthews.

The physical therapist’s aid came in with the wheelchair and a smile that lit up the room. Hello Mrs. Gill, My name is Arlo, are you ready for some fun? he asked.

Huh! Do I have a choice?

Arlo helped her into the wheelchair, and he wheeled her away. She turned to look at Aunt Maggie and sighed.

Let’s go to the house, Aunt Maggie suggested.

Are we really going to clean the house? I asked.

Don’t be ridiculous; we’re going to hire a cleaning service. Why don’t you come to stay at the house with me? Maggie suggested as we walked out to the parking lot.

I was thinking about that.

And?

And I’ll need to go to the hotel now and check out before they charge me for another night.

Well, let’s go.

5 – SOMEONE STOLE MY KEYS

AUNT MAGGIE DIDN’T want to leave her rental in the hospital parking lot, so we drove over in separate vehicles. She followed me to my hotel. I packed up, checked out, and then we proceeded to Mom’s house. I pulled up to the gate at the entrance. I had to dig around the glove box for the remote, hoping the battery was still good so I wouldn’t have to get out of the