My last hope was that either Daddy or Mrs. Fennel would see how worried and edgy I was the remainder of the week. They’d ask driving, penetrating questions of both me and Ava, and once they learned what was being planned, they’d put a stop to it, and that would be that. Twice during the time we were all home together, Ava warned me about wearing too long a face and snapping at Marla in front of Mrs. Fennel.
“You’re endangering us both,” she said. “Get hold of yourself. You’re soon going to move to a new home and have a new sister. You should be full of the same excitement Marla is exhibiting. Stop moping and acting irritable, or you’ll raise suspicions. You’re just lucky Daddy and Mrs. Fennel have their minds occupied with other things; otherwise, we’d be finished. You’d be finished.”
I promised to do better, and I did try, but I was eager to retreat to the sanctuary of my room. I spent hours looking at what could be my mother’s picture and thinking. I went on the computer and found the address for the orphanage. What if I went there and pleaded for information? Wasn’t there something, anything, about my past that would help me decide what to do and strengthen my resistance?
Whether Ava confided in her or not, Marla seemed the most suspicious, especially because of how short I was with her. She was full of questions when I took her to school. I tried to be as nonchalant and indifferent as I could, but she had Ava’s perseverance and persistence.
“I know you two are planning something soon. I don’t know why I can’t be told. I’m tired of being treated like a little girl.”
I gave her Ava’s stock answer to everything. “Your time will come. Be patient.”
“Patient,” she said. “I hate that word as much as Mrs. Fennel hates the word sorry.”
That made me laugh, and for me at the moment, the sound of my own laughter was like balm on a wound, soothing and relieving.
“Don’t treat me like some cute little child,” Marla snapped.
I pressed my lips together and then said the word. “Sorry.”
“Oh!” she cried, and pounded her thighs.
It was the closest I came to laughing in those last few days.
Ava, whether to placate Marla or just to keep me busy, did plan something for the three of us for Friday night. With Daddy’s and Mrs. Fennel’s blessings, she took us to do some shopping first and then to have what Mrs. Fennel called “goat food” because it was garbage to her. Ava and I let Marla decide where we would go. To our surprise, she chose a steak house. Of all the food we ate away from the house, Ava enjoyed steak the most. I did, too.
All night, Marla tried to pry out of us what we were planning for Saturday.
“Why do I have to wait to find out? I should be just as trusted as either of you in our family now. More, even. I haven’t made the mistakes Lorelei has made, have I?”
“See what I mean about her?” Ava told me. “I feel sorry for you when I leave.”
I looked at Marla and saw the sparks in her eyes. Ava was right about her. I wished I could leave with Ava and not have to fend Marla off. Why hadn’t I had the same driving, ruthless ambition when I was her age? Why didn’t I have it now?
Marla watched us both very closely Saturday morning. The moment either of us moved from one room to another, she followed.
She’s going to ruin thi
ngs yet, I thought, or, rather, I hoped. I was tempted to make it easier for her to discover something, but Ava was watching me almost as closely as Marla was.
As was usual when a day for Daddy’s feeding arrived, Mrs. Fennel moved about the house with more energy. It was as if nourishing him would nourish her as well. For his part, Daddy was mostly withdrawn, resting quietly in his suite. Mrs. Fennel brought him something for lunch, one of her magic elixirs created out of one of her secret herbal formulas. When we were younger, she often would have us drink one of them. It was sweet and syrupy but not appetizing to look at because of its greenish-blue color.
Late in the afternoon, Ava advised me to go to my room and spend time on my hair and my makeup and carefully choose something very sexy to wear, one of her hand-me-downs.
“It’s like an assassin loading his gun,” she explained, and laughed. I saw how much she was enjoying this. My nervousness and reluctance were obviously an integral part of that pleasure. She grew more serious. “You have to keep him turned on, Lorelei, even when you bring him up here. That’s important. His blood should be hot with desire and passion. Make love with him as much as you can the whole time you’re with him, but of course, be careful.”
“Why is getting accidentally pregnant such a disaster for us, Ava? I know a number of girls at school who have gotten pregnant and had abortions. No one seems to make that big a deal of it.”
“Some girls. Tramps,” she said.
“It happens. People lose control.”
“We don’t,” she said sharply. “We are always in control, Lorelei. That’s the whole point. I can’t believe you don’t feel these things as deeply and as instinctively as I do. Honestly, you really do worry me. Doing this tonight will go far to bring you home.”
“Bring me home? But I am home.”
“Home to Daddy,” she said, which only made things more mysterious and confusing. “Let’s not talk about all of this now. Let’s just do what has to be done and hope that afterward, you will answer your own questions.”
“Is that what happened to you?”