Do you promise not to tell?

Who can resist being privy to a secret? Who wouldn’t exclaim an eager, “Yes!”, as a vow of silence in order to get the juicy goods?

The secret could, of course, be gossipy, which is always fun, if not ethically questionable. It could be a heartwarming secret. Celebratory. Or something dark. Life-altering.

Secrets, in general, fascinate me. Not because of the truths hidden within them, but because of the reasons someone believes those truths should remain hidden. And because of what those hidden truths reveal about the people who keep them.

Willingly or otherwise.

I’m in Love With You

In his song, Do You Want to Know a Secret, George Harrison reveals a beautiful, romantic secret that he says he’s known for ‘a week or two’.

But what if his secret wasn’t some sweet nothing? What if it turned out to be a confession about a murder? About theft? Deception? What if it was a tearful confession about a horrific mistake for which guilt gnaws? What if, in sharing this secret, he hopes for understanding, rational thought. Forgiveness.

What if it’s unforgivable?

Would that change anything? You gave your word, after all. You promised not to tell.

 

Nobody Knows, Just We Two

What if the truth behind the secret affects you in some twice-removed way? What if revealing it could clear your name, yet crush someone you love? What then? It was so incredibly exciting to hear the secret… until you did… and now you can’t unhear it. You can’t unknow it.

You can’t reveal it.

Not even to someone who counts on you to be open with them. Not even to someone who might also be affected by the secret you now hold inside of you.

 

Let Me Whisper in Your Ear

That’s how things turn out for Cassandra Hall, heroine in Duplicity, my romantic suspense thriller. Cass, a nurse who vowed to do no harm, is honorable, compassionate and trustworthy. It makes sense someone who knows her well would share a confidence with her. It also makes sense that others who know her well would expect her to be open with them.

It’s in that moment, when a vow to one person means deceiving another, that the unbearable burden of the secret she can’t reveal collides with her natural instinct for honesty, and when she’s forced to balance the weight of her word, her loyalty, with the weight of truth and honor. It’s a most unenviable position, and one in which I doubt any of us would like to find ourselves.

“I guess I’m more tired than I realized.”

“It’s more than that.” He touched a knuckle beneath her chin, tilted her face up to his. There was real pain there. Pain and something else. Something barely hidden yet still unclear. “Tell me.”

“I can’t.” She closed her eyes.

He wanted them open. He wanted her to look at him again, not close herself off from him and bury her secrets deeper inside.

Leaning closer, he tipped his head and spoke softly against her ear. “Trust me.”

“I promised.”

“You said you don’t keep secrets.”

“They’re not mine to tell.”

We have choices.

Cass does not.

I gave her no quarter.

And so, a single question above all festers inside of her like an open wound:

How can she honor a promise to someone she loves while hiding the truth from the man whose trust depends on her honesty?

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