Broken Wings (Broken Wings 1) - Page 91

“Amanda,” Daddy snapped. “How can you do that? Maybe Carson hasn’t even given Ellery the ring yet. You will have to wait and hear it from him. Sit down,” he ordered.

Mother froze and then, as if her body had turned to pudding, poured back into her chair.

“But… this is a crisis, Henderson, a true social crisis. Do you know how hard it is to book the club for a wedding, or any decent hall, with such short notice? These things are planned nearly a year in advance, maybe two. You don’t know about such things,” she lectured him. “You’re too busy in the business world. This is my world.”

“Nevertheless,” Daddy said calmly, “you’ll have to wait to see if the event is indeed going to take place. Right now all you have is Teal’s report of a conversation she had with Carson.”

Mother thought a moment and then turned to me.

“You are telling us the truth, aren’t you, Teal? I mean, this isn’t one of your terrible lies, is it? Please, be honest,” she pleaded.

“It’s what I remember,” I said practically under my breath, and started to eat. I glanced at Daddy, who was looking at me angrily again. He was sure to run off and tell Carson what I had done.

Mother lost her appetite. Then she said she had a terrible migraine headache and went up to her room. Daddy pounced on me the moment she left us.

“Why did you do that? Why did you tell her Carson’s plans?”

“I didn’t see how it would matter,” I said.

“Of course you knew it would matter. You can be very mean, Teal.”

“I’m not mean,” I said, my tears now clouding my eyes. “It just came out.”

“Your brother obviously meant to present it as a surprise to her. He was wrong to confide in you, and all that you have done tonight is reinforce the belief that you cannot be trusted. Trust is something that has to be earned, and frankly, I can’t see how you will have that with anyone,” he lectured.

“You hate me!” I screamed back at him.

“Lower your voice.”

“You’ve always hated me, right from the time I was born.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not being r

idiculous, Daddy. You know it’s true and I know it’s true.”

“I don’t hate you. How can I hate my own flesh and blood?” he challenged.

“You can. You don’t even believe I am your own flesh and blood.”

“What? That’s enough. You’re walking on the edge of a cliff, Teal.” He pointed his right forefinger at me like the barrel of a pistol. “If I ever hear such nonsense from your mouth again, I’ll…”

“Have me burned at the stake. I know,” I snapped, and rose.

“You haven’t been excused, young lady,” he shouted after me. “Teal Sommers.”

I kept walking and then charged up the stairway to my room and slammed the door shut. For a few moments I stood there listening. Would he come up after me? I heard nothing and relaxed.

About two hours later, I went downstairs again. I had left in the middle of my dinner and I was still hungry, so I headed for the kitchen to get myself a snack. Daddy was in his den watching television. It was rare that he sat with Mother and me and watched television. He had his own set and liked to watch shows he said we wouldn’t appreciate. To ensure his privacy, he actually locked his den door. More often than not, the three of us were like strangers in a hotel, each of us off doing his or her own thing, meeting in hallways, mumbling good night or good morning.

I made myself a sandwich with some of the chicken that had been put away and ate it at the breakfast table. It was nearly nine-thirty now. Del would be getting off work at the pizza parlor in a little over a half hour, I thought. I had spoken to him almost every day, but we hadn’t seen each other since I was at his house. He told me that someone from the social services department had made another visit to his house and given his mother another stern warning.

Why was it such a battle to have a family, to be a family? Why did people who should love each other hurt each other so much? All that week I had been fantasizing about us, imagining Del and me together with his little brother and sister, imagining us running off and living happily somewhere by ourselves. We didn’t need parents. They didn’t want us anyway. We’re too much of a burden. We’re in the way of their selfish happiness, I thought.

It wasn’t really such a fantasy, I told myself. He and I are strong enough to work, to support ourselves and two little children. We could go someplace where no one knew us and where no one would interfere. I was sure that in time I could convince him to do this.

As I made my way back to my room, pouting and hating being under house arrest, I saw Mother had left her purse on the entryway table. She often did when she came home excited about something and anxious to get on the telephone with her girlfriends.

Tags: V.C. Andrews Broken Wings Horror
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