I waited silently to hear whatever else he had to reveal, but he suddenly put up his hands.

“Hey,” he said. “Don’t feel sorry for me now. I’m over it. I have come to a comfortable acceptance, a truce with my own feelings. I’m fine. Really. I’m fine.”

I could see his eyes were brimming with tears. I rose, walked over to him, knelt down, and kissed him softly. “Of course you are,” I said, and he smiled.

“Okay. Now I am,” he said. He looked at the diary. “A little more?”

“Just a little,” I told him, and returned to the sofa bed.

The afternoon sun was struggling to keep twilight at bay. Back at Foxworth, my father was probably about to organize the cleanup, putting away tools, evaluating what was done and what would be done next, and thinking about coming home. A quick thought about my homework passed by me. I knew what I had to do and how long it would take.

When I looked at Kane, now preparing to continue, I realized how much more he had to share with the Dollanganger kids than I did, despite their being distant cousins of mine. Just like Cathy had faced and was forcing Christopher to face the reality about his mother, Kane’s sister had brought the reality about their mother home to him. Neither he nor Christopher wanted to believe or accept any of it. What could be stronger than a mother’s love for her child and the child’s love for her? Shatter that, and what was left? So wounded in your heart, how could you find the power of love for someone else there later on? Would you doubt anyone who expressed it for you? Would you be afraid to believe?

Whom could you trust?

It suddenly occurred to me, came to me like an electric shock—that quick, that stinging, that true.

There was only one person whose love Christopher could ever trust.

Cathy.

She was the only one left.

Momma had left us many gifts, gifts to buy us off, to make us forget how she had deserted us. What surprised me most about the gifts for Cathy and me were how they revealed what she saw in and thought of us. It was as if in her mind, we were exactly as young as we had been the day we were brought to Foxworth Hall. Maybe that was her way of forgetting all that had happened to us since. With a pile of gifts, she could swipe away the torture, the starvation, the punishments, and the lack of sun and exercise we had endured. She could make herself feel better about what she had done if we would indulge in these gifts of candy and games and new clothing. Oh, we would forgive her.

Cathy refused to accept it. She looked as defiant as ever. She didn’t understand that if I joined her and kept up our defiance and anger, the twins would suffer the worst. I bawled her out for her self-pity, and she ran up to the attic. I thought I would let her stew in her own juices for a while, and I didn’t go after her. I played with the twins. I could hear the music upstairs and her dancing. Good, I thought. At least she was getting it out of her system. I thought she would come down for dinner finally, but she didn’t. I put aside food for her. Still, she didn’t return. Finally, I went up to see what she was doing. I found her lying out on the roof. She was in her ballerina costume, so I knew she had to be cold. I brought her a woolen jacket, spread it over her, and lay down beside her. I knew she had to wind down from her fury herself. No words I could say now would matter.

“I almost jumped,” she said.

“What?”

“I was going to jump off this roof. I would have, too, but I realized Momma probably wouldn’t care, and they’d probably say some crazy girl came here, climbed up, and jumped.”

“Of course she’d care,” I said. “No matter what, you’re still her daughter.”

“Right, sure. Then I thought, what if I was just injured but so badly that I couldn’t dance?”

“Very likely,” I told her.

“Then I thought I would live to someday trap and torture our grandmother and mother just like they’ve done to us.”

“Oh, Cathy, it doesn’t do any good to think these terrible thoughts. You’ll end up with a sour-looking face forever, and the acid of hate will eat you up inside.”

She looked at me and snuggled closer. I put my arm around her, and we both gazed up at the stars. I told her I had saved her some dinner and some candy, which I knew she wanted, even though she pretended not to.

“Don’t ever wish yourself dead,” I told her. “No matter what, we must think about surviving.”

I told her we’d get out someday soon, and the twins would need her to be their mother. She laughed about our mother, but bitterly, and I told her the truth. I told her I knew our mother would always think of herself first and us second, but that was all right, because I would always look after her. She started to cry and told me she was sorry she had all those bad thoughts and she wouldn’t think about death anymore. She pleaded with me to do something.

“Remember what Daddy told us often,” she said. “God helps those who help themselves.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said. “But she might be telling us the truth this time. We might be close, and any day now, we could all come into that fortune.”

She turned away. I kissed her cheek. She closed her eyes.

She’s right, a voice inside me said, but another said, What if you ruined everything after all this time and suffering? How would you feel then?

Somehow, some way, I had to find enough strength to go on, strength for all of us.

Tags: V.C. Andrews
Source: readsnovelonline.net