Rain

by V. C. Andrews

  At first I didn't see Grandmother Hudson. I had anticipated her being in bed, but then I saw her sitting in a chair. She was in her velvet robe.

  "So?" she said. "How was your rehearsal? Did you quit?" she asked with the corners of her mouth turned down.

  "No, I didn't quit. The rehearsal went well after a few bumps," I said.

  "Bumps?"

  I told her what concerned some of the students. She listened with interest and then nodded.

  "I was waiting for something like that to happen," she said. "Megan spends most of her time with her head in the sand. For someone who wanted to change the world, she has a remarkable ability to avoid reality?'

  "Maybe it's inherited," I suggested. Her eyebrows went up as if they were hinged to the folds in her forehead. "What is that supposed to mean?"

  "Aren't you avoiding facing reality? You have a medical problem that needs attention," I said.

  "You are a very forward young lady. Who do you think you are, speaking to me like that?" she demanded. I stood my ground.

  "Your granddaughter," I said calmly. "Where I come from family members care about each other and don't need special permission to look after each other," I told her. Her face softened, her eyebrows returning to their place.

  "My doctor has a big mouth," she said rather than continue to challenge me.

  "He's just worried and trying to do his job. He has a responsibility," I said. "You're lucky to have a doctor like that. In my neighborhood you had a better chance of being visited by a man from Mars than a real doctor and when you were sick and had to go to an emergency room. They treated you like numbers and not people. If you didn't listen to what they said, they couldn't care less."

  "I don't need to hear a lecture from a teenager about how fortunate I am," she snapped.

  "From what the doctor tells me, you do," I fired back. She took a deep breath.

  "I'm not coming down to dinner tonight. Send that excuse for a maid up here to see me," she commanded.

  "Did you call my mother and tell her about the doctor's visit? Or Victoria?"

  She started to laugh and then stopped and straightened herself up, tightening her hands on the arms of the chair.

  "I have never, nor do I ever intend to, throw myself on the charity of my children. Or," she pronounced sharply, "my grandchildren. Now do as I say."

  "Yes, ma'am," I said and did as she wished.

  Was pride ever a good thing? I wondered. It was important to have self-confidence, but more often than not, it seemed, being proud got in the way of better things, especially love. Maybe Grandmother Hudson wasn't capable of loving her own daughters and grandchildren. Maybe it was wrong to simply assume they were the ones who failed. If I stood still, closed my eyes and thought about all this, I would sink into a whirlpool of mixed emotions. It was better to just move ahead, keep as narrow a view of my future as I could, and wait for a chance to escape.

  What I didn't know then, but what I would know soon, was there was no escape. There was never a real escape because you would have to deny who you were and that was something I was discovering I could never do.

  As if she had heard my thoughts, my mother called that night. She wanted to know how my first few days at Dogwood had gone. I told her about the play and my part and she sounded very happy and impressed. Then I told her about Grandmother Hudson and what the doctor had told me.

  "I've tried the best I can, but Mother is a very stubborn woman. How is she?" she asked after a moment of silence.

  "She was too tired to come down to dinner tonight," I said.

  I had sat alone and felt silly being served my dinner. However, whether I was afraid she would find out if I didn't or whether I'd already gotten used to the custom, I dressed for dinner. Merilyn had little to say except that Grandmother Hudson complained her food was cool by the time she had brought it up to her.

  "Maybe I should try to visit sooner," my mother mused. "I'll try to be there the weekend after next. I might bring Allison and Brody along. I guess it's time you met, although you must promise not to tell them the truth. Do you promise?"

  "I promise," I said. I had to admit I was curious about them, but if it wasn't important that they know who I really was, then I wasn't going to lose sleep over it.

  "You have my number if you need me," she said.

  "Shouldn't I have Victoria's number, too? She's closer," I said.

  "That's up to Victoria. I told her why I wanted you living there. She's smart enough when it comes to business. She should be smart enough to give you her telephone number," my mother said.

  That ended our conversation. She obviously didn't want to discuss Victoria nor hear any more about her mother. I was hoping Mama would call. I sat down and wrote her a long letter, describing the school, the teachers and the students. I told her about the play, but I left out any of the conflicts and controversy. Mama would hear only good news from me, I decided. She was praying she had done the right thing.

  I couldn't wait to hear from Roy. I decided to write a letter to him so I would have it ready whenever I did hear from him. In my letter, I told a little about my fears and problems. It was hard to keep it all inside myself. I had no real friends, no sister sharing a room, no one who had a sympathetic ear. Afterward, I sealed the letter and kept it in the dresser drawer, just waiting for the opportunity to send it on its way.

  At school the next day, I discovered that Grandmother Hudson had made preparations for me to be outfitted for horseback riding. The first time I put on my riding clothes and looked in the mirror, I laughed at myself. I though I looked so silly. Nothing terrified me more than having to get up on the horse, but my instructor, Mr. Drewitt, was patient and after a few lessons, I actually began to look forward to equestrian class.

  I knew that some of the other girls who were far advanced in horseback riding were making fun of me, but I ignored them and after I began to improve, their smiles wilted. In fact, Mr. Drewitt said I was one of his best beginning students ever.

  Rehearsals went well, too. Colleen either avoided me or spoke to me more respectfully, especially when she saw that Mr. Bufurd liked my performances more and more. Audrey grew bolder and talked to me more, but always retreated quickly if anyone else approached. Even when she was finished for the day, she would linger to watch my

  performance and then walk out with me, hurrying away as soon as she saw her mother pull up or waiting.

  Gradually, the tension I had experienced on the first day dissipated and even Maureen withdrew into the background. She wasn't at as many rehearsals as I was, of course. I had to be there every day and so did Corbette.

  On our tenth day, he slipped into the seat beside me as we both waited to go on stage. Up until now, except for some small talk, we had really only conversed through our lines in the play. Since our classes were held on different campuses, we didn't have many other opportunities to see each other.

  "You're getting good," he said in a whisper. He kept his eyes on Mr. Bufurd and the stage activity.

  "Thank you," I said.

  "You pick up on everything quickly. I like that. Most of the girls from Dogwood that I've played with are dimwits:'

  "Played with?"

  He turned, smiling.

  "I mean been in plays with, of course."

  "Of course," I said.

  "I was thinking about all that we have to do in Act Two," he continued.

  "Yes?"

  "Anyway, if you're willing, I'm willing to put in some extra time."

  "Extra time? What do you mean? We rehearse every day after school," I said.

  "I mean a weekend day, maybe this coming Saturday, for example."

  "Mr. Bufurd wants to work on Saturdays?"

  "No, not with Mr. Bufurd. Just us," he said. "We don't need him to go over stuff and if we come in prepared, he'll be very happy. I could pick you up Saturday, say about two, and we'll go rehearse in my barn."

  "Barn?"

  "We have this farm and I took over a
barn we don't use. It's sort of my private home away from home, know what I mean?"

  "No," I said shaking my head. I was lucky to have a home in a home, I thought. "Doesn't it smell?"

  "No," he said laughing. "We have a farm, but we don't have any annuals."

  "What kind of a farm is that?"

  He shrugged.

  "It's what my parents wanted. I guess you could call it a movie-set home," he added. "Anyway, should I pick you up?"

  "I'll have to ask Mrs. Hudson. I think her daughter is coming to visit and I might have to be there."

  "Why do you have to be there? Can't you do what you want?"

  "No. I'm under her supervision," I said.

  "Okay," he said. "Let me know if you're free." He got up. "Oh," he added, "just keep it between us for now. I don't want any of those dimwits spreading stories."

  "What kind of stories?" I shot back. What was he ashamed of?

  "Who knows? You give them an idea and they'll run wild with it." He saw the disapproval on my face. "Look, you want Maureen talking about you behind your back?"

  "No," I admitted.

  "Neither do I," he said. He smiled. "I hope your supervisor gives you permission."

  Why do the best looking boys have to be so infuriating? I wondered, but I did want to meet with him. At dinner that night I asked Grandmother Hudson if my mother had called to say she was coming on the weekend.

  "She made some vague reference to it earlier this week, but today she informed me she had to attend a black-tie affair with Grant. He sees himself as a rising star on the political scene," she muttered.

  "Then she's not coming?" I was both

  disappointed and relieved. Meeting my half-brother and half-sister would surely prove to be a traumatic experience. Would they look at me and see

  resemblances, sense them?

  "She's threatening to show up during

  midweek," my grandmother mumbled. "Unless, of course, I die before that. Then she'll come sooner."

  "That's a horrible thing to say. I'm sure she's worried about you."

  She stared at me for a moment and then shook her head softly, her lips gently curling.

  "For a girl who was brought up in what is sometimes referred to as Hell's Kitchen, you appear rather naive and trusting. I don't lie to myself, Rain. My children were spoiled and are self-centered. If anything is too inconvenient, they don't do it, even if it means not visiting a sick mother. Especially if it means not visiting a sick mother," she added.

  "I don't lie to myself," I said, "but I don't want to stop believing in people?'

  "That's because you're still young enough to suffer disappointments," she remarked. "I don't have the luxury of time to waste."

  She patted her lips, looked up at the ceiling and then dipped her spoon into her soup. I stared at her, feeling sorrier for her at the moment than I did for myself and Mama. She caught the look in my eyes and slammed her spoon down.

  "Don't you dare look at me that way. Who do you think you are, pitying me? I don't need anyone's pity, thank you."

  "I'm sorry," I said looking away quickly. "I didn't mean anything."

  "Now you've gone and ruined my appetite," she said. "Not that this tastes like anything?'

  "I'm sorry," I moaned, tears stinging my eyes.

  "And don't start that self-pity, either. It's just as annoying."

  "Well, what do you want?" I wailed. Merilyn had just come through the kitchen door. She paused and retreated.

  "What do I want?" She laughed to herself. "What do I want? I want my youth back and the chance to avoid the mistakes I made in love and marriage. That's what I want," she declared. "Is there any possibility of my getting my wish? Well? Is there?"

  "No," I said.

  "Right, no. So, I'll tell you what I want. I want the strength to endure?'

  She pressed her palm to her breast.

  "Are you all right?"

  "Yes," she said "Just a little out of breath. Finish your dinner. I'm going up to rest."

  "But you didn't eat much," I said.

  "I'll have Merilyn make me some tea and toast." She rose slowly and started out. At the doorway, she wavered. I jumped up and went to her side, taking her arm. She tried to pull away.

  "I'm fine," she said.

  "You're terrific. We'll go horseback riding tomorrow," I mumbled, but I didn't let go.

  She looked at me with surprise.

  "I'm helping you upstairs, Mrs. Hudson," I said firmly. "Either with your approval or not."

  "Very nice," she said walking, "showing such disrespect."

  When we reached the stairway, she paused to catch her breath and then we started up. Although she seemed all right, I didn't let go of her arm.

  "I'll be all right from here," she said when we reached the landing. "Go back and finish your dinner. You don't seem to mind the mediocre food."

  I smiled and shook my head. She glanced at me, her eyes filling with a humorous twinkle.

  "You're a lot like me, Rain," she said, "or like I was when I was your age. Be careful that you don't fall into the same traps?'

  "Traps? What traps?"

  "Sex and love," she said. "That's all they are, traps."

  She continued toward her room, her back more humped, her gait more clumsy. She looked like she had aged years. I was happy she didn't look back. She would have seen the look of pity in my eyes again and she would have been even more outraged.

  I returned to the dining room to finish my meal. "Where's Mrs. Hudson?" Merilyn asked.

  "She's not feeling well. Bring her some tea and toast in about a half hour," I said.

  "Great. Either I'll get fired or she'll die and I'll be out of a job," she muttered.

  "That's a horrible, selfish thing to say," I snapped. Her eyes nearly popped. "If she's sick and suffering, you should show some compassion."

  "What...why do you care about her so much? She treats you like a servant, too. I hear the way she speaks to you sometimes. She's a rich old white lady. You're just getting a handout?'

  "That's my business," I said. "I don't want to hear you talk against her again."

  "Everyone gets so snotty here," she moaned.

  "You shouldn't worry anyway," I told her. "You have another choice. You don't have to wait to get fired. You can quit."

  "Maybe I will."

  "Maybe you should," I said sternly.

  She spun on her heels and retreated to the kitchen. I sat there fuming about it and wondering why my mother and my aunt didn't take more interest in who worked for my grandmother. I ate what I could and then I went into the kitchen myself and began to fix her tea and toast.

  "What are you doing that for?" Merilyn asked.

  "I thought I'd make it easier for you," I told her sharply. She didn't catch my sarcasm.

  "Thanks," she said and went to clean up the dinner dishes.

  I brought up the tea and toast. My grandmother was in bed, nearly asleep.

  "Why are you doing that?" she demanded.

  "She always manages to burn the toast," I replied. My grandmother looked at it and then smiled. "You're right," she said, "but I'm still not hungry."

  "You'd better eat something anyway and you always need some liquid."

  "Is everyone around here a frustrated doctor or nurse?" she cried toward the ceiling.

  I sat beside the bed.

  "And just what do you think you're doing?"

  "I'm staying until you eat and drink something," I threatened.

  She glared at me, dropped her head to the pillow and closed her eyes. I rose and held the tea cup. She opened her eyes, looked at it and then sipped some when I offered it. I gave her some toast and she took a bite, glaring at me the whole time.

  "Satisfied?" she said.

  "Yes?'

  "Good. Then let me sleep."

  "The doctor should see you again," I told her. "You look too pale."

  "Oh..." she moaned.

  "All right. I'm leaving. Good night," I said
and headed for the doorway.

  "Good night," I heard her say. It wasn't a reluctant good night. It was warm.

  I turned back and saw her close her eyes and made up my mind to call the doctor first thing in the morning no matter how angry it would make her.

  14

  On. My Own

  .

  Doctor Lewis didn't come to see Grandmother

  Hudson until after I had gone to school. I decided not to warn her that he was coming. I looked in on her before I left; she was awake, propped up in her bed and looked a little more rested, but still weak, her voice not as strong.

  "How are you this morning?" I asked her. "Fine," she said. "Just go on about your business," she said, waving me out before I could even suggest having the doctor come to see her. It was more bothersome to her that I saw her unwell than her being unwell. Her pride kept her a lonely woman, I decided.

  On the way to school, I told Jake what I had done.

  "Good for you," he said. "At least someone had the guts to make her do the right thing once. Of course, you may find yourself sleeping in the garage from now on," he joked.

  "I don't care," I said. He gazed at me through the rear view mirror and smiled.

  "Looks like she got more than she bargained for when she decided to do one more charitable thing and take you in, huh?" He stared at me for a few moments longer as if he knew more and was waiting for me to confirm it. I remained silent most of the way to school. Pretending to be someone I wasn't made me sick inside. I longed to open the window and scream out as we passed these fancy homes and people.

  "I'm Mrs. Hudson's granddaughter. My mother is Megan Hudson Randolph. And if you didn't hear me, I'll shout a little louder. I'm Mrs. Hudson's granddaughter..."

  For a moment I thought I might have actually done it. Jake had such strange a look on his face.

  "You okay?" he asked.

  "Yes," I said. I felt like bursting out in tears, but I repeated, "Yes, I'm fine."

  I was on pins and needles all day, imagining Grandmother Hudson's wrath like a dark cloud ready to burst cold rain on my head the moment I walked into the house. Jake knew what I was anticipating. When he picked me up after the rehearsal, I could see he was more excited than usual.

  "How's Mrs. Hudson?" I asked as soon as I could. "Well, you must have had some effect on her," he replied. "She's agreed to having the pacemaker put in."