Out of the Rain

by V. C. Andrews

  I felt so trapped and so angry. I was in such a deep sulk that I didn’t hear Karen and Daddy come home.

  Suddenly, my door was thrown open.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Karen demanded. “How could you get sick today of all days?”

  “I forgot to tell the stomach flu about the game.”

  She smirked but remained in the doorway. “Everyone was asking about you. You should have called me.”

  My eyes widened with surprise and outrage. It was truly as if I believed my own lies. Daddy had taught me that was the way to make them work.

  “Why didn’t you call me? I’m the one sick. And what about your brother?”

  Her face softened.

  “Daddy told me they were taking him to the doctor. I didn’t want to hear about it. I get too frightened.” She folded her arms and looked at the floor. “Mother says he’s all right now.” She looked up. “Daddy said he’ll go with me to the game. So did Tommy call you?”

  “A few times.”

  She nodded. From the way she was reacting now, I thought she actually felt sorry for me.

  “I’ll call you the moment the buzzer sounds to end the game.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “I’ll make sure no one moves in on you at the celebration, either,” she said.

  I fought back a smile. Did that include her?

  “I’m changing and then going down to help with dinner. Mother said she thought it might be best for you to eat in your room. She’s going to bring a special meal up to you.”

  “Really? I don’t think I’m infectious.”

  “Whatever,” she said. “I’ll see you before Daddy and I leave for the game.”

  She stepped back and closed the door. Tommy called again about ten minutes later.

  “How are you now?” he asked, his voice resonant with hope.

  “Much better but still a little shaky,” I said. “I wouldn’t want some-thing to happen and your attention be off the game.”

  “Yeah,” he said, dripping with disappointment. “I’ll call you as soon as I get into the locker room.”

  “Okay. Good luck.”

  “I met you. I already have it,” he said.

  I could feel the tears trickling down my cheeks after we said goodbye. I sat back against the pillows on my bed and glared at the wall, my emotions in a whirlpool. Now I really was feeling sick.

  There was a light knock on the door, and then Daddy stepped in and closed it behind him.

  “You’re doing great,” he said. “We’ll get through all this. Everything’s been a little more hectic with Garson and all, but I was on your case today with Amos and the judge we’re using. It’ll be fast, and there’ll be a lot less tension for you after it’s over.”

  “Won’t I still have to stick to the fictional life you created for me?”

  “Yes, but it will be lost in a fog. You’ll be too busy with this life and your future. You’ll have a great school life and then go to the college of your choice, no costs to worry about. Amos really likes you, too. He wants to make you a great party. Karen will be ecstatic. We’ve done it. Together. Let the past drift off, and think only about the future.”

  “Karen said you’re taking her to the game.”

  “Yeah. And Ava’s decided to call Celisse to watch Garson and come, too. She wants to keep an eagle eye on Karen at the after-party. It won’t run late. Tomorrow… tomorrow is the start of a really new life for you, Saffron. I know it’s a sacrifice for you to miss the game, but we both know it’s best for now. I’ll make it up to you.”

  He smiled. Make it up to me? The door was closed. No one would see. Why didn’t he come to me to hug and kiss me? Hadn’t I done everything he wanted? He was behaving as if he really believed I was sick, too, or he was terrified I would be unable to hide our real relationship. Either answer left me cold.

  “Okay,” I said.

  As soon as he left, I closed my eyes and forced myself to vividly remember my mother. One image I could never forget was her sitting in the backyard with me and laughing at how close the hummingbirds came to her, one practically a few inches from her face, as if it thought there was nectar on her lips. There was something melodic about her laughter. It made me feel so safe in a world without tears or pain or encroaching dark shadows. Flames in a fireplace were still beautiful; candles on my birthday were still full of joy and celebration. Sometimes she sang an old song she said her mother loved. Her eyes would be so bright. I recalled the way her voice lifted with “There’ll be bluebirds over the white cliffs of Dover…”

  “Where’s Dover?” I once asked her.

  She laughed and said, “It’s out there. You’ll see.”

  Would I ever?

  Ava brought me a bowl of rice and chicken and some tea. She was so happy about Garson that she lost any of her regal personality. She seemed warm and caring, as warm and caring as any woman who had agreed to become your mother and embrace you as a member of her family. I was speechless, really, and feeling even more terribly guilty.

  “This will be good,” she said. “Something substantial. Celisse is here and will help you if you need anything. She’s quite capable. She’s had some nursing experience in France. I wouldn’t even think of leaving the two of you if I didn’t believe she could handle it.”

  The two of you? She was including me in every way now, including me as one of her own.

  I thanked her, keeping my eyes low so she couldn’t see how guilty I was feeling.

  “I’ll be calling in regularly,” she promised. “And keeping my eyes on your soon-to-be sister,” she added with a stern look. “Derick and I are official chaperones. There’ll be no repeat of the Toby party. I assure you.”

  “Okay. Thank you for dinner,” I said.

  She stood there a moment and then left.

  I listened to all the movement in the hallway, heard Celisse’s voice and Karen urging her parents to move faster. She wanted the best seat in the bleachers. No one stopped in to see me before they all left. When they did, the house became so quiet that I could hear the whistle of the wind over the roof shingles.

  I rose and carried my tray out of the room and down the stairs. Celisse was sitting in the kitchenette having some tea and biscuits. Garson was asleep in the bassinet and looked very content.

  “Sorry you are ill, chéri. Is there anything you need?”

  “No, I’m fine, Celisse. I’m getting better. How’s he doing?”

  “He’s well. A scare, I’m sure.”

  She had such a sweet, soft smile.

  “Are you happy you came to America?” I asked, after I put my dishes and silverware in the sink.

  “Ah, oui, but sometimes…”

  “Sometimes?”

  “I miss my famille. I have two older sisters, both married and both with three children. They all live in Rouen. You know it?”

  “I think that was where Joan of Arc was burned at the stake.”

  “Oui,” she said. “Très bien, but it has more to it than just that history. One day you’ll go. There is much to see and learn.”

  “Peut-être,” I said.

  She smiled. Garson moaned, opened his eyes, and then closed them again.

  “Babies are sweet,” she said. “It is frightening when they get ill. So fragile. Oh. I think I have to go up and get his new teething ring. Mrs. Anders forgot to give it to me. They were in such a rush, such excitement about the school game.”

  “I’ll get it for you. Where did she say it was?”

  “On her vanity table. In a box not opened.”

  “Okay.”

  “Merci,” she said, and I hurried up the stairs, reminding myself I was supposed to be sick. When I stepped into Ava and my father’s bedroom, I paused. Ava was really in a rush to get herself together. Drawers were still open, clothes tossed on the bed. So Mrs. Perfect could be a little sloppy sometimes, I thought, and smiled.

  I spotted the new teething ring box and started for it. Then I stopped
and stared at what was displayed on the vanity table. She had put out some jewelry and some watches, probably deciding that these three were too elegant to wear to a basketball game. The one in the middle made my heart stop and start. Slowly, I reached for it. Just touching it sent a chill up my arm and down my spine.

  It was gold, not with a round face but shaped more like a triangle. It had a tiny diamond next to each number. I turned it over. On the back was inscribed Love, D. I would never forget it. When Daddy first had given it to Mama, he proudly told her it was custom-made. Back then, she wore it often, practically every day. When she stopped and put it in her brown antique jewelry box, he was upset, but she had stopped wearing everything he had bought her by then.

  I clearly remember hearing how our house had burned to the ground and how everything was reduced to ashes. I didn’t want to hear about Mama, but I did remember Daddy deciding that combing through the rest of it was useless, and it was wiser to bulldoze away the remains and put the land up for sale.

  The fire not only burned away everything we had, but it burned indelible memories into my mind. For nights and nights after, I would wake to the vision of Daddy coming into my bedroom, his arms full of my clothes to wear, his face ripped with panic. I cried for Mama, but he said he had to get me out first and fast. The flames were so big, snapping at us, as he carried me down the stairs. When we emerged from the house, I heard something crash down behind us in the house, maybe the dining-room chandelier.

  People were all over the street by now. The flames were visible in the doorway. Daddy couldn’t go back in. I was so dazed I thought Mama must be out, too. Where was she? I could see flames in her bedroom window. Glass exploded. I clung to Daddy, who was in his pajamas. Some neighbors were rushing over to us with blankets. The sirens were screaming all around us. Daddy had me change into the clothes he had quickly scooped up for me. Then, for a while, we both stood there watching the firemen start to battle with the blaze. I was pressed against him, softly crying, “Where’s Mama?”

  All of this thundered back at me. The watch seemed hot in my hand, as hot as it could have been if it had been rescued from the flames. It looked absolutely immaculate, untouched. I remembered the tiny scratch next to Love, D. This was the watch. For a moment, I really did feel woozy. The room seemed to spin. I put my hand on Ava’s vanity table to keep my balance. The dark thoughts that blossomed in my mind didn’t simply happen now. The seeds of them were always there.

  I scooped up the teething ring box and walked out with it in my left hand and the watch in my right. Before I turned to Celisse at the bottom of the stairway, I closed my hand around the watch.

  “Merci,” she said, taking the box and opening it. “I’ll wash it off.”

  I nodded, hoping she didn’t see any changes in my face, and then I hurried back to the stairway. Would I cower in my room? Would I cry? Would I pack a bag and run off? When I stepped into the room, I saw the card Amos Saddlebrook had given me on the top of the dresser. I looked at it for a moment and then made up my mind. I would not cry.

  I called the number.

  “This is Tyson,” I heard.

  “This is Saffron. I need to see Mr. Saddlebrook right now.”

  “You’re home?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” he said.

  For a moment, I stood there stupidly. Then I thought, I have to go. I have to get as far away as I can. But first, I would see Amos Saddlebrook. I had good reason.

  I changed into a pair of jeans and a warm blouse. I put on one of the pairs of running shoes Ava had bought me, and I packed my old bag with more clothes and the things I would need. I included all the money I had and then put in the watch, my mother’s watch. I scooped up the jean jacket Ava had bought me. For a moment, I looked around the room. There was nothing else I wanted to take with me. I wasn’t even going to take the coloring book. Instead, I left it on the bed with the old crayons.

  Then I went out. I could hear Celisse in Ava and Daddy’s bedroom singing some French lullaby to Garson. For a few moments, I stood there listening. As softly as I could, I descended the stairway and went to the front of the house. When the headlights of Mr. Saddlebrook’s car appeared on the street, I stepped out. Tyson turned into the driveway and stopped. He got out and opened the rear door for me.

  “Did you tell Mr. Saddlebrook I called you?”

  “Yes,” he said. “He’s waiting for you.”

  I got in, and he closed the door, backed out of the driveway, and turned up the street. I looked back at the house. The water running in the dark pewter fountain with a sculptured little boy and girl under an umbrella glittered. It seemed like just yesterday I had first stepped up to this house, that motion detector light putting me in a spotlight. As the house drifted back, I could feel my body tying into knots of anger and sorrow.

  Everything had begun with a lie, I thought. Why shouldn’t it end like this?

  EPILOGUE

  Unlike the first time when I was brought to Saddlebrook, it seemed more like a descent through the darkness and the day, descending to a huge house that hovered over everything around it, the windows more like dozens of eyes glaring out at the world.

  Tyson said nothing all the way. Maybe because of how troubled and sad I was, his tall, dark, stoic figure caused me to think of Charon in Greek mythology, the ferryman of Hades who carried souls of the dead across the rivers Styx and Acheron to the world of the dead, for that was really how I felt, so empty inside, so defeated and lost, simply numb.

  He said nothing when we pulled up to the front entrance. He stepped out and opened my door. Standing so straight, expressionless, staring out at nothing, he resembled a pewter statue. It made it all seem so unreal, but I knew why I had come here and I knew what I wanted to say. Simply disappearing into the night without coming here was cowardly and in my mind gave the evil a new and stronger life. It mattered to me.

  Amos Saddlebrook opened the door himself. I paused for a moment as he looked out at me, dressed just as elegantly in a gray suit with a blue tie and looking as distinguished as he had the first time.

  “What’s that bag you’re carrying?” he asked.

  “The bag I came with,” I replied.

  He nodded and stepped back for me to enter.

  “My office,” he said, gesturing toward it.

  I walked ahead, entered the office, and took a seat on the settee just where I had previously sat. He took the same seat across from me as well.

  “I was told you weren’t feeling well,” he said.

  “You know that wasn’t true,” I replied, and then opened my bag. I reached in and took out my mother’s watch and placed it on the settee and then looked firmly at him. He wasn’t smiling, but there was a look of amusement in his eyes. It made me feel younger and, for a few moments, challenged my courage.

  “Derick Anders is not my uncle. He is my father.”

  He sat back, amusement dissipating like smoke. He brought up his hands and pressed the ends of his fingers together in cathedral fashion.

  “Go on,” he said. “I’m sure there is more you want to tell me.”

  “Oh, there is more. You know that my father carried me out of a house on fire, and my real mother died in that fire. I believe you also know that I lived with my grandmother for years after, a grandmother I had never known existed. My father had never told me it was his intention to leave me on a train platform so that she would find me and take me to her home.”

  His face tightened, his eyes darkening.

  “And I didn’t know she was my grandmother for some time after I had been living with her. For years, she held out the hope that my father was coming back for me.

  “But by then, my father had come here, assumed his responsibilities as Karen’s father and married your daughter, Ava. I wonder if his having Garson was just another insurance policy. He used to do that, sell insurance.”

  “My girl,” Amos Saddlebrook said, “you are quite the c
ynic for one so young.”

  “I suspect you were as well, maybe when you were even younger,” I said, and he smiled.

  “What makes you so certain I knew all this?”

  I looked around.

  “Consider who you are, what you’ve accomplished, what power you wield over so many in this community and the important people you know in government and in business. I doubt you’d buy a new brand of toothpaste without someone doing extensive research for you.”

  His smile softened. He nodded, total seriousness now capturing his face and his posture.

  “Why have you come here tonight?”

  “We circled this last time we spoke. You made it clear to me that my father was driven by his ambition, an ambition I am convinced you dangled in front of him so that he would marry Ava and clean up the social blemish on the Saddlebrook name.”

  “What if that’s so?”

  “You drove him to do what he did. You’re just as responsible,” I said.

  He tilted his head a bit and widened his eyes. “For his leaving you with your grandmother?”

  “No, much more.”

  Any friendliness or amusement was completely gone from his face.

  “What more?”

  I held up my mother’s watch.

  “I was very young but not too young to have encapsulated traumatic memories and, from time to time, be haunted by them, by the whisper in my ear, by the horror I refused to accept.”

  He sat forward. “Go on.”

  “He woke me, hysterical with fear, I thought. He had some of my clothes in his arms but said there wasn’t time to put them on. There wasn’t time to do anything but get me out of bed and into his arms as well. There was certainly not enough time to rouse my mother, who put herself to sleep at night. She was on some pills for her depression. I screamed for her, and he said he was coming back in to carry her out, too. He was in his pajamas. He hadn’t had time to dress himself. At least, that was what I had believed.”