Secret Brother - Page 60

“What?” He laughed. “Okay. See you in the morning.”

I started toward the front entrance. I could feel him still standing there watching me walk away. Did all girls wonder what the boys who stared at them or watched them walking in the hallways were thinking? Was it always some sexual fantasy? Aaron was my first real boyfriend. I almost felt like I was learning a new language. I turned at the door. He waved, his signature wave that began as a salute and then careened above his head. He got back into his car. I waited until he had driven slowly down the driveway and out, and then I entered the house, eager to go to bed and relive every moment in Audrey’s bedroom.

All the lights in the house were dim. I had seen the house this way late at night, but it looked different tonight. My home really has changed for me, I thought. I didn’t feel it was my home as much as I had. Shadows seemed deeper. The rooms were vacant, despite the elaborate furniture. Was I being overly dramatic in thinking that love had left this house? The silence seemed to say yes. I expected it would follow me to bed. However, as soon as I closed the door behind me, I heard my grandfather call my name from the living room.

He was sitting in his favorite big, cushioned easy chair. I could tell he had dozed off and just woken. He wore his light blue robe over his pajamas and slippers, all Christmas presents from Grandma Arnold, from the last Christmas before she died. We had all gotten up at the crack of dawn to gather around the tree. Willie still believed in Santa Claus.

I glanced around. There was no one else in the room. I was expecting to see Mrs. Camden, maybe even Myra. Normally, she would be up waiting for me, but she was still recuperating from her broken arm and bruises.

“So how was your party?” he asked.

“It was all right,” I said.

“All right? Funny way to put it. When I was your age and I went to a party, it was either great fun or boring.”

“It was great fun,” I said. I knew I said it like he was pulling it from me.

“Good. I want you to be as happy as you can be, Clara Sue. I know you’re not happy with how things are at the moment, but I’m hoping you’ll settle down.”

“Settle down? I’ve lost everyone in my family, Grandpa.”

“You haven’t lost me.”

Oh, how I wanted to answer that, but I didn’t. I looked down instead and pressed my lips together so hard that it hurt.

“Now, I was hoping your uncle Bobby would be here for Thanksgiving, but apparently, that’s a very busy time for his show, so he can’t come.”

I looked up sharply. “We’re having Thanksgiving?”

“We’ve always had Thanksgiving, Clara Sue. There were many years when your parents came here for it and, although you were too young to remember, when your grandmother and I went to your home.”

“How could we have Thanksgiving? What are we thankful for?” I asked him. It was on the tip of my tongue to add, the poisoned boy?

“Do you think your grandmother or your mother and father would want us to ignore it? You and I are still alive and healthy. We have much more than most people in America. Should we just pretend that isn’t true?”

“Who would be at our dinner?” I asked.

“Well, My Faith will make quite a dinner for us, I’m sure. I’ll ask Myra to sit at the table, and Mrs. Camden will be here, and maybe . . .”

“That boy? He’ll sit at our table?”

“If he’s able to. It can’t hurt him. Dr. Patrick thinks it might stimulate more healing.”

“So you think a turkey might help him remember who he is?” I asked.

He just stared at me for a moment. I could see the conflict going on in his mind. He wanted to shout and send me to my room, but he didn’t want to create any more tension and anger in this house, either. “Thanksgiving is more than a turkey, Clara Sue,” he said softly.

“Right. I’m tired, Grandpa.”

“Okay.”

I started to turn but stopped. “Aaron is coming for me at nine tomorrow.”

“You going on some picnic?”

“No, Grandpa. I’m going to Willie’s grave. I’m going to go there every weekend I can,” I said. I waited for him to reply. He didn’t, so I turned and walked away, the silence fleeing at the sound of my footsteps as I pounded my way up the stairs. I had no intention of pausing at Willie’s room, but Mrs. Camden, in her nightgown, stepped out and closed the door partway behind her.

“Oh,” she said, because I surprised her. “How was your party?”

Tags: V.C. Andrews
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