Secrets
Deborah Seabrooke
Oh how I loved her! my father said on the plane back to the States. But he said it was over now, his affair with the girl at the Institute, Clara Springel. How she had wept at my grandmother's book party in London, what a scene she had made.
The boy I was with wanted to know who the redhead was. That's Clara Springel, my father's lover, I said.
My mother wrote to say she had big welcome home plans, had arranged for another doctor to be on call so she could pick us up at Kennedy and we could all go out to eat. My father handed the letter to me. Now isn't that nice of her? he said. She doesn't have to do that. I was planning.... I had hoped you and I could just take a quiet ride home in a taxi.
