Seeds of Yesterday (Dollanganger 4) - Page 57

Silently I nodded. "All right. If you want to enjoy yourself at the home of your friend, that's fine, but please do your best not to rile Bart tomorrow. You know his problem, and he has worked hard to overcome all those disturbing ideas planted in his head when he was very young. Help him, Cindy. Let him realize he has a family backing him up."

"I will, Momma, I promise I will."

I closed the door and was soon saying good night to Jory. He was unusually quiet. "It's going to be all right, darling. Just as soon as the baby is here, Melodie will see you again."

"Will she?" he asked bitterly. "I doubt it. She'll have the baby then to occupy her time and thoughts. She'll need me even less than she does now."

Half an hour later, Chris opened his arms to me, and eagerly I surrendered to the only love in my life that had lasted long enough to let me know I had a firm grip on happiness . . . despite everything that could have ruined what we had cultivated and grown in the shade.

The morning light crept eerily into my room, bringing me out of sleep even before the alarm sounded. Quickly I was up and staring out the windows. The snow had stopped. Thank God for that; Bart would be pleased. I hurried back to the bed to kiss Chris awake. "Merry Christmas, darling Doctor Christopher Sheffield," I whispered in his ear.

"I'd rather you call me just darling," he mumbled as he came awake and looked around in a disoriented way.

Determined that this day was going to be successful, I tugged him out of bed, and soon we were both dressed and heading for the breakfast room.

For two days men and women had been coming to the house, repeating what had been done in the summer, only this time the entire downstairs had been transformed into a Christmas fantasy.

I watched with a certain indifference as the workers from the caterer Bart had hired finally finished making our home look like a wonderland. Cindy stood at my side watching all they did to turn the rooms into extraordinarily festive rooms, full of color, candles, wreaths, garlands, a towering Christmas tree that outdid our family tree by ten feet.

All she saw soon had Cindy convinced she didn't want to spend the better part of her day in bed. She forgot Lance and loneliness, for Christmas Day worked better magic than Christmas Eve.

"Look at that pie, Momma! It's huge. Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie," she sang, all of a sudden glowing with life. "Sorry I've acted ugly. I've been thinking, there'll be boys here tonight, and lots of handsome rich men. Oh, maybe this house can give more than misery after all."

"Of course it can," Bart said as he came in to stand between us, his eyes shining as he surveyed all that had been done. He seemed thrilled by his expectations. "You just be sure and wear a decent dress, and don't do anything outrageous." Then he was following the workmen and giving directions, laughing often, even including Jory, Cindy, Melodie and me, as if all were forgiven now that it was Christmas.

Day after day, like some dark, gloomy shadow, Joel had trailed behind Bart, his old voice cracking as he intoned words from the Bible. He said again this morning, fully dressed at six-thirty, "It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God . . ."

"What the hell are you trying to say, old man?" shouted Bart.

Momentarily Joel's watery eyes flared with anger, like a spark ready to ignite from a brisk, unexpected wind.

"You're throwing away thousands of dollars hoping to impress someone--and no one will be impressed, for the others have money, too. Some live in finer homes. Foxworth Hall was the best of its kind in its day, but its day has come and gone."

Bart turned on him with fury. "SHUT UP! You're trying to spoil whatever happiness I reach for. Everything I do is a sin! You're an old man and have done your share; now you try to spoil mine. This is my time to be young and fully enjoy my life. Keep your religious quotes to yourself!"

"Pride goeth before a fall."

"Pride goeth before destruction," corrected Bart, glaring at his great-uncle and giving me delicious satisfaction.

At last, at last, Bart was seeing Joel as a threat and not as the respectable father he'd sought all his life.

"Pride is the never-failing vice of fools," extolled Joel, looking with disgust at all that had been done.

"You have wasted money that would be better off given to charities."

"Get out! Go to your room and polish your pride, Uncle! For obviously you have nothing in your heart but jealousy!"

Joel stumbled from the room, muttering to himself, "He'll find out. Nothing is forgotten or forgiven here in the hills. I know. Who would know better than I? Bitter, bitter are the days of the Foxworths despite all their wealth."

I stepped forward to hug Bart. "Don't listen to him, Bart. You'll have a wonderful party. Everyone will come now that the sun is shining and melting the snow. God is on your side this day, so rejoice and have the time of your life."

The look in his eyes when I said that, oh, that grateful look. He stared at me, trying to say something --but the words couldn't form. Finally he could do nothing but briefly embrace me; then he was striding away as if embarrassed. Such a wonderful-looking man, so wasted, I was thinking. There had to be someplace where Bart fitted.

Rooms that had been closed off since winter began were opened, the dustcovers removed and freshened so that no one would know we ever made an effort to conserve heat or money. Bathrooms and powder rooms were given special attention to make them both immaculate and attractive. Expensive soaps and lavish guest towels were put out. Every toiletry item that a guest might need was displayed. Special Christmas china and crystal were taken from the party cabinets, along with seasonal decorations too expensive for the caterer to supply.

We gathered around the Christmas tree about eleven o'clock. Bart was freshly shaven, splendidly well groomed, as was Jory. Only Melodie looked stale in her worn maternity dress that she wore day in and week out. Trying as always to ease tensions, I picked up the Christ child fromrie realistic manger and held the baby in my arms. "Bart, I haven't seen this before. Did you buy this? If so, I've never seen a more beautifully carved set of Biblical figures."

"It just arrived yesterday, and only today I unpacked it," Bart answered. "I bought it in Italy last winter and had them ship it over."

Tags: V.C. Andrews Dollanganger Horror
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