Delia's Crossing (Delia 1) - Page 88

He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t speak, and his lips stretched into a grimace of confusion. Then I brought my hand and his to my lap.

“Delia,” he said. “You don’t have to…”

I knew she was watching, waiting, so I moved his hand along with mine down my thigh. It was then that he pulled back and cried, “Stop! What are you doing? Why have you come here like this?”

I looked back at her, but she had no instructions. She just stared at us.

“I wanted to thank you,” I managed.

“Not like this. This isn’t you,” he said. “I hope it isn’t you,” he added, now sounding not quite so sure. “You didn’t…you didn’t lie to me about Bradley Whitfield, did you? Delia!” he cried when I didn’t answer. His shout made me wince.

I stood up quickly. When I looked back, Tía Isabela was no longer there.

“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too,” he said. “You’d better leave. Please.”

“I’m sorry,” I said again, and ran out, the tears streaming out of my eyes.

When I stepped into the hallway, I didn’t see Tía Isabela there, either, but standing in her doorway was Sophia, and she was smiling.

“What’s going on?” she asked. “Why are you practically naked in Edward’s room, and why are you crying?” She fumbled for the little Spanish she knew.

I shook my head and hurried into my own room, closing the door quickly. I sat on my bed, stunned and confused. Why had my aunt forced me to do this, and why had she left me there? Edward thinks I was lying about Bradley now. He has lost all respect for me.

I flicked the tears off my cheeks and tried to breathe. My chest felt as if it had turned to stone. A few minutes later, when the door was opening, I expected to see my aunt, but it was Sophia instead. She stood there smiling and looking in at me.

“What did you do to poor Edward?” she asked. “I went in to see what was happening, and he was red in the face and wouldn’t speak. You didn’t try to seduce him, did you? You know what that means?”

It was close enough to the Spanish for me to understand her question. I shook my head.

“Look how you’re dressed—or undressed, I should say.” She indicated the sheer nightgown. “You tried something,” she said, laughing. “Good for you, only I could have told you it was a waste of time. Stick with your Mexican boyfriend. You’re better off.”

She stepped back, laughed, and closed the door, leaving me trembling so much I was actually shivering. I sat there anticipating my aunt, but she never came. After a while, I crawled under the covers and buried my face in my pillow. I fell asleep without even saying my prayers.

Tía Isabela did not join me for breakfast the next morning. As usual, Sophia took her breakfast in her room, but before I left to go to school with Señor Garman, Señora Rosario told me that my aunt had left instructions for me to expect her to take me shopping after school instead of during the day Saturday. She had something else she had to do on Saturday. The way Señora Rosario said it made it sound as if my aunt was going off on a date herself, maybe for the whole weekend.

Still dazed from what had happened the night before, I went out to the Rolls and quickly got in. Señor Garman was even quieter than usual and said nothing the whole trip. He grunted a good-bye at the school, and I hurried into the building.

I knew I was behaving strangely throughout the morning. I didn’t pay attention in class, and I answered Ignacio’s questions quickly and mostly with single words. All I wanted was to go somewhere and be alone. I was feeling ashamed of myself. Ignacio was very worried about me. He kept asking me questions about what was happening at the hacienda.

“Is there more trouble? How is your cousin? Were the police there? Are they questioning you?”

He fired one question after another at me, hoping I would answer one. I just shook my head.

“You’re still coming to the fiesta, aren’t you?” he finally asked.

“Yes, I am.”

“Good. But you’re not feeling well?”

“I’m just very tired today,” I said. Assuring him that I was still going to the fiesta seemed to satisfy him.

Señorita Holt, on the other hand, did not hide how cross she was with me when I missed questions, didn’t hear things she had said, or failed to follow her instructions.

“Next week,” she warned me at the end of the day, “you had better come to class better prepared and alert. I do not like wasting my time.”

I apologized and left, not remembering until I was nearly out of the building that my aunt was coming to take me shopping. I wondered, of course, what she would say about last night in Edward’s room.

Tags: V.C. Andrews Delia Horror
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