Christopher's Diary: Echoes of Dollanganger - Page 25

“Then I’m flattered,” I said, and his smile returned.

“You’re very special, Kristin. I mean it. I’m happy you trusted me with this. I know what that means to you.” He looked down at the diary in his hands.

“Go on,” I said. “It’s all right. You haven’t done or said anything that would change my mind.”

I told him that, but I wasn’t as confident about it as I made it sound.

Nevertheless, he nodded, smiled, and began again.

Momma smiled at me as if she knew how intoxicatingly beautiful I thought she was. Why should I be surprised? She was always good at reading my thoughts.

She warned us not to stay out for more than an hour, as the twins might waken, and then she took us to a place she said used to be her own hiding place from which to spy on adults, a massive oblong table with cabinet doors underneath. There was barely enough room for Cathy and me to crawl under, but through the fine mesh screen, we could see the grand ballroom below, all lit with candles. The elegantly dressed men and women, the women with glittering jewels, the huge Christmas tree with what looked like hundreds of lights and ornaments, the dozens of servants serving champagne, the display of foods being served by chefs, and the music made it the greatest display of wealth we had ever seen. Momma hadn’t lied about this. They were rich, very rich! She hadn’t exaggerated about that.

I looked at Cathy. Her face was so full of wonder it brought tears to my eyes. All these months of boredom and depression, sickness and cold, and reams and reams of cruel words spewed at us, all of it paled at this moment. A curtain had been lifted and showed us what could one day be ours, too! Oh, how worth it our struggle has been, I thought.

I looked at my sister and smiled at the way she was dazzled before my eyes. She could easily grow into one of those beautiful women below, as beautiful as Momma, I thought. We watched Momma, who was talking to a man about my father’s height. Suddenly, he took her hand and kissed it. I felt like an arrow of ice had just been shot into my chest. Cathy nudged me.

“Did you see that, what she let that man do?”

Of course I had, but instead of talking about it, I talked about what our parties would be like when we were finally accepted and living in this grand mansion.

I thought we had seen all we would that would shock and amaze us, but suddenly, our grandmother from hell appeared, only now she looked as elegantly dressed as any of the other women. Cathy was astonished, too, but could only remark about her size. Somehow, among other women, she looked even taller than when she loomed as she stood above us.

And then the most astonishing thing of all happened. Our grandfather was brought in, in his wheelchair.

“It’s him!” Cathy muttered.

He paused and slowly raised his head and looked up in our direction. I was positive he was smiling. Instinctively, I pulled back, but Cathy remained staring down at him.

“He looks like Daddy, only older,” she said.

“Why wouldn’t he? He’s Daddy’s half brother.”

“But—”

“Shh,” I said. There were two people nearby talking, a man and a woman. They talked about our mother. The woman was uncomplimentary, but the man, whom she called Albert Donne, raved about Momma and wished she was his instead of belonging to someone named Bartholomew Winslow. They confirmed that Momma was once adored by her father and would inherit the fortune, but neither was happy for her. They drifted off.

“Who’s Bartholomew Winslow?”

“Let’s go,” I said, instead of trying to come up with an answer. I knew it had to be the man who had kissed her hand and was paying so much attention to her at the party. “The twins might have woken up.”

Cathy wanted to stay longer, but I made her leave and return to our little bedroom. The twins were still fast asleep. Both of us stood there looking at them, stunned and dazzled by all we had seen and heard.

“Is Momma going to marry this Bartholomew Winslow? Is that what those people meant?”

“How do I know?” I snapped back at her. I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help it. The woman I had seen below at that grand party was different from the woman who had brought us to Foxworth Hall, and I was afraid of what that difference might mean.

Suddenly, I felt defiant and excited about a new idea. Why not take advantage of this opportunity to explore the house and really understand where we were? Momma was occupied, I told Cathy, and the door was unlocked. We wouldn’t get a better opportunity. She was worried that our grandmother would find out and whip us, but I thought I would go up to the attic, find some clothes to use for a disguise, and then go out. I found an old dark suit that fit well. Cathy stared in amazement as I paraded boldly before her, pretending to be some old gent.

“I’ll never be recognized,” I declared. She still looked quite terrified but told me to go explore. She made m

e promise I wouldn’t be too long. I pretended to be a hero about to embark on a dangerous venture to save us both by learning the secrets of the mansion. She smiled when I swept her up in my arms, and for a moment, inhaling the sweet scent of her freshly washed hair and feeling the smoothness of her skin and the closeness of her body naked beneath her new nightgown, I felt a rush of passion, heat rising from my thighs, through my body, and into my face. I kissed her cheek, and the kiss was such a surprise to both of us that we stood motionless for a moment. Then I forced a laugh and, pretending to be a knight in armor, rushed out of the room and into the mansion of secrets.

Kane paused, looked at me, and then jumped up and came over to kiss me.

“Why did you do that?” I asked, smiling.

“Christopher kissed his sister. You said we had to do what they do when they do it.”

Tags: V.C. Andrews
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