Where Truth Lies

Journal entry June 1Why is everyone being so horrible to my darling Ronald? How can the police believe that someone with his wealth and reputation might be guilty of murder? If I went to them and confessed, he would be free, but then all my efforts would be in vain. I've worked so hard so that we can be together. Even that awful woman didn't get in our way. Now if his daughters will just stop their infernal digging into the past, maybe Ronald and I can finally be happy.Was her father truly guilty of murder?The question whirled through Miranda Blanchard's thoughts as she tried to concentrate on the familiar, repetitive work of making endpapers for her latest edition of handmade poetry books. Swirling the heavy paper through the color bath to create the marbled design she favored usually took her mind off her troubles. But on this beautiful latespring day her worries crowded in so close that not even this task succeeded in distracting her. Setting the latest sheet with its rich green, teal and indigo design aside to dry, Miranda pressed the back of one hand to her throbbing temple. Even gloved and swathed in an apron, with her dark hair swept away from her face, she would probably find a way to dot herself with paint. Normally her workroom and studio tucked up under the eaves of her family's huge house, near her grandfather Howard's thirdfloor suite, was a peaceful haven. Cool and pleasant, with pearlgray walls and a large window to let in just enough light, it was where Miranda went to relax, write poetry and craft the chapbooks and limited editions she made for her own work and a select few other writers. Relax, or hide'a cynical voice from inside taunted her. Pushing back a stray lock of wavy hair, she could feel the flutter in her stomach and the tightening of her chest that heralded the beginning of a panic attack. Not another one. She couldn't afford one now, when she was so behind in her projects. She hadn't written anything new in months, or nothing worth keeping, anyway. Even the piece she'd tried to do for her mother's funeral came out flat. Of course when they discovered later that it wasn't Trudy the family had buried, Miranda tried to convince herself that somehow she'd known all along, but she couldn't manage to fool herself that way. This batch of a hundred books for another poet at the university in Augusta should have been finished weeks ago. So many other things had claimed her attention in the first five months of the year that Miranda had trouble believing everything that had gone on. From the moment Bianca had produced that picture of Mama with her friend on Cape Cod, dated after her supposed death, life had been a jumble of highs and lows. Trudy Blanchard was apparently alive after all, or at least she had been recently. This last blow had been the most wrenching. Miranda still had flashbacks of her father and sisters around the grave in Stoneley's windswept cemetery, all of them weeping to think that they'd come so close to rediscovering the wife and mother taken from them so long ago, only to find her dead in the house instead. "You could at least be grateful for what happened," she chided herself out loud, her soft words echoing off the angled ceiling of her studio. Finding grandparents they thought were dead, and learning that Aunt Genienot her motherdied should have made her ecstatic. Instead, Miranda was caught up in the anxiety around her as her father was arrested for the murder of his sisterinlaw. "He has to be innocent," Miranda said, hoping the words spoken out loud would calm her nerves and convince her that the statement was true. That was the hard part. Ronald Blanchard might be innocent of Genie's death, but the revelations of the past few months had shown he was far from innocent regarding the faked death and disappearance of his wife,Bulock, Lynn is the author of 'Where Truth Lies ', published 2007 under ISBN 9780373442461 and ISBN 0373442467.