Scattered Leaves

by V. C. Andrews

  However, I am afraid that some medication they will give me might cloud my brain and make it impossible for me to continue to talk with Mother, so I want you to start practicing telepathy.

  Here's what I want you to do, Jordan. I want you to sit quietly someplace -where no one can disturb you and where you won't be disturbed by anyone talking to you or any noise and I want you to try to picture Mother in your mind and just keep sending out a call to her. Work hard on it and one day, you will hear her voice. It that simple, but it won't work unless you have a place to go where you can be undisturbed.

  I have to stop. . .my arm is aching and so are my shoulders.

  Ian

  .

  Where could I go to do what Ian suggested? I wondered. And then I quickly realized, the attic. I would go up there when I could go up alone, go up whenever Alanis had to be at her granddad's house cleaning. I just had to know where the key was. Excited about it, I was now happy Alanis had made the discovery.

  I opened Ian's last letter in the bag. It was in scribbling so awkward and clumsy that I had to study it hard to understand. It was all over the page, too, some words even sideways.

  .

  Dear Jordan,

  My arms are wrapped. I can just move my wrist. Tomorrow, I won't be able to do that.

  Good-bye.

  Ian

  .

  For a long time. I sat there staring at the scribbling. I was surprised at the tear that fell on the paper and realized it was mine. It had come from my eye and was being followed by eager brother and sister tears charging down my cheeks and leaping off to join the first. What did this mean? Would he never write to me again? What good was Daddy sending him my letter finally?

  My shoulders shook and my chest began to ache. I rolled over on the carpet and brought my knees up against my stomach to make it feel better. I closed my eyes and rocked and rocked until I was too tired to continue.

  And after a while. I fell asleep.

  I woke when I heard Alanis's laugh. She was sitting on Grandmother Emma's bed reading Ian's letters.

  "Stop!" I cried, grinding the sleep out of my eyes and sitting up. I reached for Ian's letters. "Give them back to me now."

  "Talk about being bonkers," she said. "Your brother is really nuts. No wonder why you didn't want me to read these letters."

  "He's not nuts. He's very, very smart," I said.

  She smirked. "Yeah, right. The rest of the world is nuts." She put the letters down, and I started folding them back into their envelopes.

  "I told you not to read them. Ian wanted only me to read them."

  "Don't worry about it. I'm not going to tell anyone. Remember? Real friends keep secrets for each other. Besides, this isn't important. Our discovery is what's important."

  I thought about Ian's instructions about telepathy. "Where did you say the key to the attic is?"

  "The bottom drawer in the food pantry. It's the only one with a little blue stain on it. I don't know if there is more than one, so we have to be sure to put it back after we use it each time." she instructed. "I just told your aunt that you and I are going to make her a surprise for dinner so she doesn't have to think up any silly costumes or anything tonight. She looked tired anyway and was happy to hear it."

  "What are we going to make?"

  "I can make macaroni and cheese. You make the salad. Granddad bought a nice bread and a pecan pie, which is one of her favorites. It's Friday night so we'll watch television with her and keep her mind off asking about our trip tomorrow. We'll wake up, have breakfast and go before she realizes she had said it was okay. Granddad does most of his other shopping on Saturday so he won't see us leave. Ifs perfect as long as you don't say anything stupid."

  "I won't say anything stupid."

  "Just remember what I told you about speaking to adults. Take your time before you say anything. Count to five after they ask you questions so you don't accidentally blurt out the truth."

  "I told you," I said. "I don't like lying."

  "Then don't talk much." she advised. She looked very angry suddenly. "Don't you see how the truth just hurts most of the time? My granddad has to face the truth about my mother. She's a tramp. He can't pretend things like your great-aunt. All he can do is suffer. Anybody asks me where my mother is I'll tell them she's visiting relatives. Or would you rather I tell them the truth and say my mother ran off with a no-good man and didn't care she left me behind? Huh? Which would you say? Huh?" she pursued.

  "I don't know. My mother never ran off."

  She shook her head and sighed. "Sometimes, talking to you is really like talking to someone from another world," she said, glancing at Ian's letters. "What did you tell the other kids in your class about your brother when you wrote that autobiogiaphy the first day? Huh?"

  I bit down an my lower lip.

  "Well?"

  "I said he was very smart."

  "And?"

  "That he wants to be a medical research scientist."

  "And?"

  "That's all I said."

  "See? You didn't tell them about the minder or where he is. The truth hurts, so you didn't tell it."

  I looked away, the tears threatening to return.

  "I'm just trying to tell you how to get along. Jordan. I'm not trying to hurt you. C'mon. Let's get started on the dinner. We'll pretend we're the cooks on a cruise ship or something. We can have some fun and forget anything sad.'

  I turned to her sharply. "I thought you said we wouldn't pretend."

  "I'm feeling sad all of a sudden. I'd rather pretend."

  "You sound more and more like my great-aunt Frances," I said.

  She smiled. "Ya? Maybe she ain't so bonkers after all. C'mon," she urged and got up.

  I put Ian's letters back in the bag and the bag back in the closet. Then I followed her out and down the stairs. She thought it would be a good idea to make the dinner seem special by dressing the dining room table instead of eating in the kitchen. Great-aunt Frances poked her head in to watch us work. She laughed and clapped her hands, then told us that since we were eating in the formal dining room, she had decided she had to go upstairs and dress in something nice, fix her hair and put on some makeup. Alanis thought it was a good idea, and she and I went up and put on prettier clothes. When we came down, we set up candles and Alanis found some old tapes to play on the stereo system. It wasn't music she liked, but she said we should play it for Great-aunt Frances, who, when she heard it, wore a brighter, happier smile. She did look the nicest I had seen her look since I had come to live here.

  Although I had made a simple salad and Alanis had only opened a box that had everything in it. Great-aunt Frances thought we had made the most wonderful dinner, especially with the candlelight and the nice dinnerware. It stirred more memories about her youth, and she began telling us about some of the wonderful dinners her mother had made and some of the family events, especially when relatives had visited.

  "Emma was particularly fond of our uncle Bronson. He was our father's younger brother, a dashingly handsome man who was a private plane pilot. He worked for a corporation and flew all over Europe as well as America. He had wonderful stories for us and was always urging us to think about traveling. Emma did a lot of traveling after she was married, but I didn't do any.

  "Once, Uncle Bronson took us both for a plane ride. He rented a small plane. My mother was very nervous and so was Emma, but she wouldn't admit it. She didn't care that I was the one Uncle Bronson wanted to sit up front, When I looked back at her, she always had her eyes closed. Once." she said. hesitating. "I told her she had her eyes closed most of her life and she got very angry. You know why she got angry?" Great-aunt Frances asked us. Neither of us had moved an inch or uttered a word the whole time she'd spoken. I could see that Alanis never expected Great-aunt Frances would talk like this. She was surprised and fascinated. "You know why?" Great-aunt Frances repeated, now really looking at us and not at her memories.

  I shook my head. Alanis didn
't move or speak.

  "She got agryy because she knew it was the truth," she said. "And she didn't want to hear the truth."

  I looked at Alanis.

  She was smiling.

  Her whole face was saying, "See?"

  The pecan pie cheered Great-aunt Frances up and turned her back to the childlike adult I knew, Afterward, we sent her to watch television while we cleaned up. As we promised, we joined her to watch one of her romantic movies. Alanis even joined her when she spoke to the set and told actors what to do and not to do. Finally. Great-aunt Frances got so tired that her eves began to close. Alanis said she was tired herself and told me she wanted to go up to finish reading the book Ian had given me. She said she was nearly done and it would be the first book she had really read cover to cover.

  "Most of the time. I skip stuff," she admitted. "Or I get someone else to tell me the story."

  "I'll stay a little longer with Great-aunt Frances." I told her. It was a lie. I was getting better at it because she nodded, believed me, and left.

  Great-aunt Frances was sleeping soundly now. so I tiptoed out and went to the food pantry. I found the attic key and then, as quietly as I could. I went up the stairs and opened the attic door. I slipped in without putting on the light. There was enough moonlight coming through the attic windows for me to clearly make out the stairway. I went up and sat on the sofa in the dark with the silvery moonlight draped around me like some magical blanket, and then I tried to do what Ian had instructed.

  Only, when I pictured Mammy. I called out to her instead of using only my brain. I realized it and stopped myself, but it was hard. I sat there as long as I could and waited to hear her voice. There was just silence, a silence so deep that I could hear my own heartbeat.

  Finally. I gave up. I imagined it would take a lot more practice. How could I expect to be as perfect as Ian right away? I told myself and tiptoed back down the stairway, taking great care with the door and lock. I returned the key to the drawer. By the time I went up to the bedroom. Alanis was asleep on the bed, still fully dressed, the book in her hands. I tried making as little noise as possible, but she woke.

  "Oh," she said. "I must have fallen asleep. Your great-aunt still downstairs?"

  "Uh-huh," I said, and then we both heard her come out of the bathroom.

  "How could she get upstairs that fast?" Alanis asked.

  I didn't know what to say. She would question me now and discover I had gone up to the attic alone. She would want to know why. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  "You fell asleep down there yourself, didn't you?" she asked and smiled. "Didn't you?"

  "Yes," I said. She laughed.

  "It's all right," she said. "Don't be embarrassed. I did. too. I'm getting ready for bed." she told me. She left to sneak into Grandmother Emma's bathroom.

  That lie was even easier than before, I thought.

  Lying to the expert liar wasn't as hard to do as I had thought. I must be getting better.

  We talked for a while after we were both in bed and the lights were out. Alanis admitted being more than just annoyed at her mother.

  "She would go off on a drunken bender for days when my father was still with us. Sometimes. I can still hear the shouting and yelling in my head. It rumbles about in there like tin cans. I can't tell you how many times she told me she wished she had never been married and never given birth to me."

  "She said that?" "Many times,"

  She was quiet and I was quiet, and then she turned on her side and, minutes later, was asleep. I thought I heard her sob in her sleep. As I lay there. I wondered how Ian actually felt with his body being wrapped. I tried to imagine it and pretend it was happening to me. It frightened me and I turned over, too, and tried to sleep.

  Alanis was up ahead of me in the morning, excited about our trip. She wanted us to get downstairs and start breakfast before Great-aunt Frances had awakened. She said we'd both bring her breakfast up to her.

  "We'll keep stroking her like this so she's in a good mood and doesn't ask too many questions about the trip," Alanis said.

  I made the hot chocolate and Alanis prepared the eggs and bacon, toast and jam. She was a better cook than she had said she was. While she worked. I learned she had been cooking and fixing breakfasts, lunches and dinners ever since she was five.

  "Even though I was young. I couldn't wait for my mother to get over a hangover or something," she said.

  "What about your granddad? Who's helping him with his meals now?"

  "He's good at taking care of himself. Granddad was always on his own. My mother didn't bring him much more than trouble when we moved in with him. C'mon," she said. "Let's bring this up to your greataunt. Wait." she added just as she picked up the tray. She hurried out the back door and moments later returned with a handful of wildflowers. She put them in a tall glass. 'Just like in a hotel," she declared, smiling.

  We marched upstairs. Great-aunt Frances was just stretching. Miss Puss was curled up and asleep at her feet and didn't waken until we brought the tray to Great-aunt Frances.

  "Oh, my, my, dear me!" Great-aunt Frances cried. "How beautiful. You two will spoil me rotten." she said and sat up. Alanis moved quickly to set up her pillows and make her comfortable.

  "Take your time. Great-aunt Frances," Alanis told her. "We'll come up to get your tray before we leave."

  "Leave?" she asked. She had forgotten. Alanis threw me a quick glance.

  "We're just going to visit a friend, remember? Well be back before dinner," she told her.

  "Oh. Yes,"

  "I hope the eggs are okay," Alanis said, immediately getting her mind off in another direction.

  Great-aunt Frances tasted them and smiled. "They're perfect. dear. Thank you," she said.

  "We'll just have our breakfast and come up to see you before we leave." Alanis told her quickly and hustled me out of the bedroom. "Chad better not be late," she said when we reentered the kitchen. She made us some toast and jam and put up some coffee for herself.

  I told her I never drank coffee. "My

  grandmother said young people shouldn't drink it."

  "You drank booze and alcopops, Jordan. You can drink coffee, believe me." she said and poured me some. I tried it but I didn't care for it. Like Great-aunt Frances. I preferred the hot chocolate.

  "You better stay down here." she told me afterward. "I'll see to Great-aunt Frances. She's liable to start asking too many questions and you won't know what to say or she'll see right through that glass face of yours."

  Soon after, she returned with the tray and told me Great-aunt Frances hadn't even gotten out of bed vet.

  "Let's get going," she said. "We'll wait for Chad out on the driveway. I don't want to take any chances."

  I followed her out. She was worried that her granddad hadn't left for the store yet, but his car was gone.

  "All systems are go," she told me. "As long as Chad shows," she added.

  We went down to the end of the driveway.

  "Why are we going to see Toby DeMarco again?"

  "It's a mystery, Jordan. Don't you want to solve it? It's more fun than sitting around watching your great-aunt fall asleep in the Eying room or reading your brother's nutty letters."

  "They're not nutty."

  "Whatever," she said. "I'd rather do this than think about my mother anyway," she added and kicked a stone down the road. Of all the reasons she gave. I thought that was the most important for her. We both looked at the oncoming traffic.

  Above us, a hazy morning sky sprinkled sunlight like light rain on the surrounding fields and forest. There was a nice breeze. but I could feel the underbelly of the oncoming cool fall. A few leaves from older trees let go of branches and drifted lazily toward the around.

  Alanis paced impatiently, her arms embracing herself. She glared at the traffic, anger at every car that wasn't Chad's. She was still in a very bad mood because of what her mother had done. I wanted to suggest that if her mother had done this before and retur
ned, maybe she would again, but I was afraid to say anything. I looked back at the house. Maybe a new letter would come from Ian today. I thought. Maybe my father would call again. Maybe I shouldn't leave.

  "Here he comes." Alanis announced before I could change my mind.

  A dark blue Mustang sped around the far turn. We could hear the thump, thump of the rap music. Chad deliberately sped up, then hit the brakes in front of us.

  "Hey, girls," he said, leaning out his window, "Going my way?"

  "Get in," Alanis told me and hurried around to open the passenger side door. I hesitated for a moment, then slipped into the backseat. "Go, before my granddad returns," Alanis ordered him.

  "Yes, ma'am," he said and accelerated so fast that the wheels squealed. "Where we going in Johnsville anyway?" he asked after a few moments.

  "Just drive. I'll tell you when we get there."

  "It better be worth it," he said.

  She dug out a twenty-dollar bill from her pocket and tossed it into his lap.

  "Gas money," she said.

  "Okay. but I'm not talking about money, Alanis." he said. smiling. "I deserve more than money."

  Don't worry, you'll get more than you deserve." she told him.

  "Well, why can't you tell me where we're going in Johnsville?"

  "We're going to visit one of Jordan's relatives," she replied.

  "Relatives?" He grimaced with disappointment. "What's so important about seeing relatives?"

  "It's important to Jordan and to me. What do you care?" she snapped back at him. "You doing something better today?"

  "I can think of something."

  "Think later," she said. She turned up the music, more to drown him out than listen. I thought.

  I sat back and stared out the window while they talked and mostly teased each other. I still couldn't throw off this feeling that I was being carried along in currents so powerful there was no way to turn back or to stop. There were no hands to reach for, no arms to embrace me and lift me into safety. Ian was so positive that everything had a cause and effect. One thing he'd always spent time explaining to me was why-- why this happened or that or why this or that would happen no matter what.