Black Cat

by V. C. Andrews

  But what more could I really do? Mama was right about my face: it told all, and I was never any good at keeping something secret from her long. The spirits that passed through my thoughts and saw everything in my head passed along and into hers as well. Spies were everywhere, even while I slept, even listening to and looking at my dreams.

  In the morning Dave was excited for me when Mama told him what we were going to do that afternoon. He was still not feeling up to going into the store and decided he needed a day or so more of rest. I shifted my eyes from him quickly so Mama couldn't accuse me of anything, but he caught my look despite that and then declared that if he wasn't appreciably better in twenty-four to thirty-six hours, he would go see his doctor.

  "Not that you're not doing everything you can for me. Sarah," he added quickly. "I appreciate and truly believe in your remedies. I might have something that really does require an antibiotic though."

  She shook her head. "Do what you think you should." she said, making it sound like a personal affront to her and her reputation.

  "We'll set," he said.

  It sounded too much like surrender to me and it amazed me. His love for Mama was greater than his concern for himself. He worried more about hurting her feelings than improving his health. I glanced at her and thought maybe Betsy was right. Maybe Mama did have the power to put a spell over someone.

  Before we left for the motor vehicle bureau, she prepared one of her drinks for him and had him go up to bed and rest. She had me do the driving to the bureau.

  "As soon as you get your license. I'm going to have you do all our grocery shopping, Noble. I need to spend more time on my herbal supplements and remedies. Mr. Bogart is connecting me with another national health-food distributor and we'll have even more to do in the near future."

  It all sounded good. I did look forward to my first experience alone in the shopping mails and stores. Despite all that I had been taught, seen, and heard. I couldn't help feeling like a prisoner about to begin a work-release program. The freedom was exciting and terrifying simultaneously, but that Mama was making it happen gave me confidence. I'd be all right. It would all be fine.

  The driving license examiner was a short, balding man with round, glassy eyes and a soft, pudgy pair of dull red lips that seemed habitually in a pout. His name. Jerome Carter, was on his name tag, and he nodded at it when he introduced himself with a perfunctory, timid handshake, the handshake of someone afraid he might be contaminated by touching someone else. From the things he said to Mama, he gave me the impression he would like to eliminate everyone less than twenty-one and more than sixty from the driving population. We had brought Baby Celeste with us and he did lighten up when he saw how she smiled at him. Mama and she waited back in the motor vehicle bureau lobby while I went out on the test.

  Mr. Carter said nothing except when he gave me directions and commands. While I drove, he scribbled on his notepad and clipboard. I thought he was quite unsatisfied with my performance. and I resigned myself to being failed and having to reschedule, but to my surprise and delight, he told I'vlama I appeared to be a very responsible young man.

  She looked more pleased than I was. I couldn't wait to get home to tell Dave of my success. He wasn't up and about as I had hoped, however.

  "Isn't he sleeping too much?" I asked Mama after she had gone up to the bedroom and reported he was asleep.

  "When you are in a healing process, you sleep. Your body needs the rest," she said, but without the kind of conviction I was accustomed to hearing in her voice and words. It troubled me. but I said nothing. Later that evening, apparently at Dave's direction, she called his store manager and told him Dave would not be in to work for the remainder of the week. I heard her say he was weak from his illness and it would be better for him to get good rest.

  Afterward, she looked at me so hard. I had to shift my eyes and pretend to be interested in something else. I didn't hear Dave get up at all that night and he didn't come down to breakfast in the morning. Finally, he rose in the afternoon, but he didn't dress. He wore his bathrobe and moved about in his slippers.

  To me he looked dazed. Whenever I spoke to him, he didn't hear until I repeated it, and all he did when he rose was shuffle about the house, glance out the window, and then settle in that rocking chair, where he drifted in and out of short naps.

  "He belongs in a hospital," I told Mama.

  "What are you now, a doctor? The man is capable of deciding whether or not he needs to be in a hospital. Noble. He has had more medical training than the average person, hasn't he, and certainly more than you?"

  What could I say to contradict that?

  The following day my license arrived. Mama decided we should have a little celebration. Dave did seem to cheer up at the news, and she described her preparations of one of his favorite dinners, chicken Kiev. Naturally, she would make a rhubarb pie. Dave was so excited, he vowed he would shave and dress. He did look stronger. Perhaps this is the start of his real recovery, I thought. How fortunate that all these good things were happening simultaneously.

  "Be careful. Noble." Dave called to me. No speeding tickets. okay?" "No," I said.

  "As soon as up and about a little more. I'll take a ride with you. okay?"

  "Okay. Dave," I said, and he beamed back a smile that lifted my spirits.

  With my new driving license in hand. I was sent out to shop for the foods and ingredients Mama needed.

  Although driving off my property by myself would seem like nothing to most people my age, it was the equivalent of being an astronaut for me. Full of excitement and adventure. I paused at the entrance to our driveway, took a deep breath, looked back at the house, then turned onto the road. I was sure no one was paying any special notice of me, yet it seemed to me that everyone I passed along the way, every person in every car that drove by or toward me, had shock and surprise on his or her face. It made me so nervous that I did almost run into the back of a pickup truck when the driver unexpectedly hit the brakes to make a right turn without any warning or signal lights. It brought me back to earth and I concentrated harder on what I was doing. What a disaster it would be to have an accident on my very first outing.

  At the supermarket, no one took any particular note of my being there alone. Some of the employees recognized me from the times I had been there with Mama and Baby Celeste, They smiled or nodded. I filled the list Mama had given me and went to the checkout counter. The clerk was a rather chunky young woman with short, dark brown hair and small, dull brown eves that looked to be sinking in her marshmallow face. When she looked at me. I looked down quickly and began to unload my groceries from the cart.

  "Hello. Noble," she said, which surprised me. I looked up and read her name tag: Roberta Beckman.

  She stood there with her arms folded under her large bosom, lifting it. The memories rushed back. She was the blind date Elliot had arranged for me years ago. She was heavy then, but she looked to have gained another twenty-five or thirty pounds. I had had a frightening sexual experience with her and actually ran away. Mama found out I had been with her and Elliot and a girlfriend of his, all smoking pot. That was the first time she had had any contact with Dave. She had gone to complain and revealed that Elliot and his friends had been smoking marijuana. Elliot hated me after that. I suppose I couldn't blame him.

  "Hello," I finally said.

  "You look like you don't remember me."

  I shook my head and kept unloading the groceries. She started to process them. "How have you been? I haven't seen you around anywhere," she said.

  "I've been here."

  "Oh. I just got this job. Lost my last job in a cut-back. I was working at the mall in the chicken place. What have you been doing with yourself?"

  "Same things." Unfortunately, all the groceries were on the counter and I had to face her.

  "Terrible about Elliot. I really liked him. He was lots of fun. Harmony was quite upset for quite a while afterward, you know. She went to college. I didn't have t
he grades to go. She's in college in the Midwest. You never wanted to go to college? I remember you were very smart."

  She continued to process the groceries. Then, she paused. No one was behind me waiting yet, so she had time.

  "Of course, I know about your mother marrying Dave's father. Everyone thought it was so weird. How are they getting along?"

  "Just fine.`' I said. "I'm in a little hurry."

  "Sure." She rang it up and told me the amount. I handed her the cash Mama had given me and she made the change and then started to pack. Someone finally came up to the aisle, but she didn't work any faster. She won't have this job very long either, I thought.

  "Maybe you and I can get together sometime," she said. "I'm not as wild as I was. Promise."

  I nodded, but said nothing. The store manager came around and glared at her so she worked faster. I began to put the bags into the cart.

  "Call me anytime," she said. "If you want. I'll come around." "I'm busy right now."

  She looked devastated, then flashed a weak smile. If you find the time or change your mind, don't hesitate. Okay?"

  "Okay." I put the last bag into the cart. I felt as if I were fleeing when I started out. I guess I really was, only she would never really understand why.

  Meeting Roberta Beckman and having those memories return vividly put a dark spot on my joyful day. I had always been very conscious of

  coincidences. Nothing happened by accident in our world. Everything had meaning. Sometimes, that meaning was buried under other things, but it was there if you looked hard and long enough.

  On good days, wonderful surprises always seem to occur, whether it be my discovery of a nest of baby hummingbirds or simply a magnificent and interesting new wildflower. I had learned from Mama that distinct rhythms of energy are going on continuously. Being able to tune in to them, sense them, and benefit from that knowledge was the special strength our family possessed now and would in the future.

  Because this coincidence. meeting Roberta, was dark and unnerving. I was especially happy to get home safely. Mama wasn't downstairs when I entered to bring in the groceries. I called to her to let her know I was home. I wondered where she was and where Baby Celeste was After I brought in everything and put away what had to be put away immediately in the refrigerator. I went searching through the house and upstairs. Mama and Dave's bedroom door was closed. I listened, heard nothing, and then knocked softly.

  "Mama?"

  A moment later she opened the door. I saw Dave in bed, his eyes closed.

  "What happened? I thought he was starting to get better. I thought he was getting dressed to be up and about."

  She stepped out and closed the door behind her softly. "Well see. He was suddenly very, very tired. so I helped him to bed." "Mama, this is terrible."

  "Did you get everything on the list?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "Good. I'll start on dinner then."

  "Where's Baby Celeste?"

  "She was suddenly very tired, too, and fell asleep about the same time Dave did," Mama told me from the top of the stairway. She smiled. "It was rather extraordinary."

  "What was. Mama?"

  "The way she... reacted to Dave."

  "What do you mean?"

  "When he was happy, she was happy, and when he became low and tired, she did. Rather

  extraordinary." She nodded,

  She turned and descended the stairway. Her words made me feel numb. What was extraordinary, exactly? Baby Celeste was always sensitive to the people around her.

  I returned to their bedroom doorway and looked in at Dave. He was in a deep sleep. What had happened? He had been so energized about our little celebration. He had shaved and dressed and looked to be recovering.

  He should go directly to the hospital now, I thought more firmly. I'd drive him myself if he would go. I hesitated a moment, listened to be sure Mama was not on the stairway, then I started into the bedroom, intending to wake him and tell him so. But the moment I set foot in the room. I heard Baby Celeste's horrible wail. It wasn't something she ever did. The scream was piercing.

  In a moment I heard Mama shout and then start up the stairs. I retreated quickly and headed for the baby's room.

  "What is it?" Mama asked.

  "I don't know. She just screamed," I said, continuing into the room.

  Baby Celeste was sitting up, her face contorted in fear. She had her arms up toward us.

  Mama leaped ahead of me and embraced her, kissing her cheeks and stroking her hair as she reassured her. Celeste became calmer quickly. Then Mama looked at me with such accusation in her eyes. I stepped back and shuddered.

  "What have you done?"

  "Nothing, Mama, Honest."

  Her eves grew small. suspicious. "Something is wrong here. Something evil has frightened her. She's warning us."

  I shook my head. Not me, I thought. Nothing to do with me. "I don't know why," I said.

  "Take her down and keep her calm," Mama said after a thoughtful moment. "I have things to do."

  I took Baby Celeste in my arms quickly and started out. "Noble," Mama called.

  "Yes?"

  "Be very careful. Very careful."

  Careful of what? I wondered. but I simply nodded, glanced at her and Dave's doorway, and then with Baby Celeste in my arms, her arms around my neck, descended the stairs.

  Behind me, I heard Mama and Dave's bedroom door close.

  When I reached the bottom of the stainvay. I looked at Baby Celeste. She wore an expression as angry as Mama's had been, and for reasons I didn't understand. I guiltily shifted my eves away from my own baby's, my heart shrinking under the heat of my own pounding blood.

  15

  What Was Meant to Be

  .

  I have seen flowers and plants wither and dry

  up when there wasn't enough rain, sunlight. Or nutrition in the soil. For a brief moment, they look healthy, robust. Their future is optimistic, then reality sets in and they begin to degenerate. Their petals curl and their stems begin to bend.

  Dave was like that.

  When he first came to our home, he was so bright and hopeful, firm and full of energy. He was devoted to Mama and even to me, and he believed that his devotion strengthened him, strengthened us all. He bounded up the stairway, swooped down lovingly over Baby Celeste to scoop her into his arms and cover her with laughter and kisses. His optimism was contagious. Days seemed brighter: shadows seemed thinner. Our old home had a palpable new energy. Perhaps Mama had done a good thing after all, I had thought.

  And then I saw that the roots of this new hope, like the roots of a poorly planted flower, were reaching into places with nothing to help it, nothing to nourish it, nothing to keep it alive, especially after Betsy had returned. Now that she was gone, but had left in her wake so much sorrow and regret, Dave grew worse.

  I felt so helpless standing by and watching him weaken, watching the light in his eyes continue to dim. Every morning, as soon as I woke. I would think about what I could do. At night I listened for my voices and I searched the shadows for Daddy, trusting he would have an answer. It had been so long since I had seen or heard anything from the spiritual world. It was like a curtain had been drawn closed. Was it my fault? Had my doubts and concerns driven everyone away as Mama had once implied? Was it because of evil once again in our house?

  Dave's absence from work didn't go unnoticed. Mama's regular customers called and stopped by, all asking after him. Some had heard he was sick. They had been to the drugstore or whatever and knew.

  "He's recuperating from a very bad flu." Mama told them. "I'm trying to build him up."

  That a pharmacist had submitted himself to Mama's herbal remedies reinforced the confidence and faith Mama's customers had in her products.

  "I'll bet the drugstore always worries he would tout their customers off them and their prescriptions and direct them to you Mrs. Paris told Mama.

  Mama just smiled as if it were something Dave had bee
n doing, but something she couldn't discuss. I knew it was not something Dave would have done or would do. If Mama caught me listening in on these conversations, she would either give me a look that said. "Go away," or she would find something for me to do around the house.

  Lately every day, in fact. Mama had something for me to get at the mall or shopping centers. She sent me on errands and sent me to make deliveries of her products to Mr. Bogart. Whenever I asked after Dave or volunteered to do something to help him, she found something else she needed done first. Some days I barely set eves on him. One morning I heard the phone ring and overheard Mama tell his store manager that he was finally going to see his physician. She said she would let him know what transpired.

  It cheered me to hear that, but the day went by. I completed more errands, and when I returned, she didn't mention Dave's having seen his doctor or planning to do so. I was afraid to tell her that I had earlier eavesdropped on her phone conversation, but I decided that if she didn't say anything about it in the morning. I would confront her.

  That night I volunteered to take Daves food up to him. She looked at me strangely, not angrily so much as curiously.

  "Why would you want to do that. Noble'?"

  "I thought I would take part of the burden off of you. Mama."

  She smiled. "That's very thoughtful, but ifs no burden to me. It's better that you keep our Baby Celeste occupied." She took up the tray.

  The past few days, she always kept the bedroom door closed. I couldn't even gaze in and perhaps wave to him or ask after his health. I knew better than to protest about it. and I knew I had to ask my questions as casually as possible. I was tiptoeing my words and feelings around her, afraid she would accuse me of something or another.

  "How is he?" I did ask when she returned from bringing him his dinner.

  "The same." It was all she ever said now, but I knew in my heart that it was not the same.

  After dinner, after Baby Celeste went to sleep. I went out despite the freezing temperatures. It was cold enough to see your breath. I wore a sweater, a scarf, and my overcoat and gloves. I just wandered about aimlessly for a while, occasionally gazing up at the sky. The stars looked like beads of ice. Noble used to think they were, and when the sun came up, it melted them, and that was why there were no stars in the daytime. Maybe he was right. I thought.