Can I Tell You a Secret?

by Linda Warren

When someone asks me this, no, no, no starts running through my brain like a test mouse on a Ferris-wheel, quickly followed by yes, yes, yes. Curiosity killed the cat sort of thing.

The Texan’s Secret is the first book in The Hardin Boys series and it’s about, well, secrets. The hero has kept one for twenty-two years and it has affected his whole life. The heroine has one of her own that shatters everything the hero has ever thought about love. It was a challenge to break through all the secrets to true heartfelt emotions and happy ever after.

When I thought about the blog today, naturally secrets came to mind. I’ll share a couple I’ve kept over the years. One I’m proud I kept, the other saved my life by keeping it.

They both happened when I was a senior in high school. The first was after gym class. I was sitting in the gym going over notes for a test I had in the next class. A friend from grade school sat down beside me. I didn’t see her much because we didn’t have any classes together. The first thing out of her mouth was, “Can I tell you something?”

The little no-mouse starting circling on the Ferris-wheel of my brain quickly followed by yes. Who gossips more than teenage girls? Before I could formulate an answer, she said, “I’m pregnant.” Believe me, there is no correct response to that except bug-eyed shock. Luckily, a response wasn’t required. She kept talking saying she didn’t know how to tell her mother and she didn’t know what to do. I think I said something like, “You’ll find a way.” The bell rang and I gathered up my books. The last thing she said to me was, “Please don’t tell anyone.”

In the weeks that followed she started to show and the girls started to talk about her. It was obvious she was pregnant, but she kept denying it. I never said a word otherwise. A month later while I was shoving books into my locker, she walked up and said she was getting married and dropping out of school. I was sad and happy at the same time. Happy she’d worked out her problem, but sad she had to drop out of school. And glad I never told her secret.

Later that year, near graduation, three of my friends and I were sitting in the cafeteria waiting to go to our next class. In school, there were labels. We were considered the good girls. We never did anything wrong, never played hooky, were honor students and always did what was expected of us. We were b-o-ring. One friend suggested, “Before we graduate, let’s do something crazy.”

As we sat thinking about “crazy”, a popular girl came up and talked to us for a minute. Her mother was from Dallas and a lot of the popular girl’s clothes were from Neiman-Marcus. Everything matched. From her shoelaces to the ribbon in her hair. When she walked away, one friend said, “I wonder what those clothes cost?” Another friend snapped her fingers and replied, “Let’s go to Dallas and find out.” A lot of, “Who cares?” “Are you nuts?” and “We don’t have a car” flew back and forth.

Somewhere in the part of my brain that wasn’t functioning, an idea formed and I heard myself saying it out loud. “I can get my mom’s Oldsmobile.” She let me take it if I had a student council meeting or had to stay late for school projects. Before I knew it, we’d hatched a plan to play hooky. The good girls were going to be bad. A week later we met at the school at 7 a.m. and headed for Dallas in my mom’s big ol’ Oldsmobile. One friend had mapped out a route and off we went with Elvis singing on the radio. We didn’t think about accidents, car trouble or a flat tire or the highway patrol. We planned to have fun and we did.

We walked around Neiman-Marcus with our mouths open. I remember the big chandeliers and the elegance of the place. When we checked the price tags on the clothes, we knew we were not only b-o-ring, but we were poor. We found our price range in the bargain basement. We all bought something, had lunch at a Dairy Queen and headed for home, singing with Elvis or the Beatles all the way. I dropped my friends off at their homes and was at my house by six. We’d done something crazy, out of character, but in the days that followed we kept waiting for the axe to fall. Never happened. Sad to say no one suspected us of skipping school. No one thought twice about the four of us being absent at the same time. The principal and the teachers trusted us. That was a wad of guilt to swallow. We decided to stick to our good girl images.

Years later, after I was married, I went to visit with my mom on a Saturday afternoon. A neighbor was there and she was telling my mom she didn’t know what to do with her daughter. She was “wild”. My mother’s reply was that she never had a problem with Linda. She was a good girl. (groan). After the neighbor left, I told her she just didn’t know some of the things I’d done and I told her about the Dallas trip. Her eyes grew big and she said, “You took my car WHERE?” Believe me it was never EVER a good time to tell her that story. Trust me.

How do you feel about secrets? Love ‘em? Hate ‘em? Keep ‘em? Tell ‘em? You can share. I won’t tell anyone. Honest.

I’ll give away a copy of The Texan’s Secret or any book from my backlist just to hear some juicy stories. *g*

The Texan’s Secret is in stores now and available in ebook from eharlequin.com and amazon.com. The Texan’s Bride will follow in October and The Texan’s Christmas in December.