Rain

by V. C. Andrews

  Grandmother Hudson had wanted me to bring her the document before Victoria had arrived, so I was sure she didn't want me bringing it to her now. I went up to my room instead. I closed the door softly and sat at my desk, my heart thumping. All these intrigues made me nervous. Despite my efforts to fight them back, curious cat's eyes slowly replaced my own and I gazed at the folder, slipping the papers out. Carefully, I unfolded the document and read.

  It was my grandmother's last will and testament.

  I shoved it back as neatly as I could and put it aside. Then I opened my door enough to hear anyone walking by and waited until I heard Victoria leave. As soon as she left, I grabbed the folder and returned to Grandmother Hudson's bedroom.

  She looked up expectantly and I held out the document. "Did Victoria see you get this?"

  "No."

  "Good," she said. "Give me the phone."

  "Shouldn't you be resting now, Grandmother?"

  "What this whole thing has told me is I will be resting soon enough," she said firmly. "And I'm not the sort who would relish leaving something undone. Give me the phone."

  I did as she asked. She waved me off as she made her call.

  Rich people are too complicated, I thought, and for a while I actually longed to be back in the Projects, sitting in my room, worrying about nothing more than what I would make us all for dinner.

  I didn't see Corbette the next day until the rehearsal. Despite our rendezvous on Saturday, he didn't behave any differently toward me. No one would guess we had kissed and been intimate. Whatever he had hoped would be between us, he wanted to keep secret. He did have an impish grin on his face when we performed, however, and that annoyed me. Mr. Bufurd stopped us continually to tell me I should try to be softer, more wide-eyed about life. The other girls had big grins on their faces and laughed together. I could almost hear them whisper, "Can she be softer? How can a girl like this ever be innocent and sweet?"

  "You've had no trouble getting this before, Rain. Concentrate, relax, take a deep breath and try again," Mr. Bufurd urged.

  I looked away, swallowed back my tears, sucked in my breath and turned again to face Corbette and say my lines. I tried to look past him, to really not think of him as Corbette Adams, but as the character in the play, as George Gibbs, who was just as sweet and innocent as I was supposed to be. Finally, it worked well enough to please Mr. Bufurd.

  "That's it. That's more like it," he declared.

  I was grateful when rehearsal ended; it had been the most exhausting yet.

  "I told you we should practice more," Corbette whispered in my ear. "I'll call you later." He started after his buddies from Sweet William. I watched him go up the aisle and then I called to him.

  "What's up?" he asked.

  "Can I see you a minute, please?" I asked. He grinned at his friends, said something that made them all laugh, and then came sauntering down the aisle toward me.

  Audrey looked my way and then quickly turned and hurried out. Corbette and I were the only ones left in the theater.

  "You want to meet tonight?" he asked quickly.

  "No. I want to know why you told me that terrible lie," I said.

  "What terrible lie?"

  "About your younger brother," I said.

  He stared at me, his eyes blinking rapidly for a moment.

  "It wasn't a lie," he insisted. He did it with such sincerity, I wondered if Audrey had been wrong after all.

  "You said he had died when he was four from a blood disease. Isn't he still alive?"

  "You went and asked people about it?" he asked, grimacing with pain.

  "No, but someone told me he was in an institution and he was still alive and he had Down Syndrome. Isn't your mother on the charity board raising money for treatment and research?"

  He looked back up the aisle and then he looked at me and sat with his head down, his hands clutched between his knees. He spoke slowly and toward the floor.

  "When my little brother was four, they decided to institutionalize him. They treated it as if he had died. We had a big argument about it. Yes," he said looking up at me with angry red eyes, "my mother is an executive in that charity, but she's an executive in a number of charities, I told you. She does it to ease her own conscience and cover the fact that she couldn't stand people seeing him in our home, people knowing she had a child with Down Syndrome, and it does come from blood. It has to do with chromosomes and they're in the blood, so whoever opened their big mouth, doesn't know anything."

  He looked down again.

  "Maybe we didn't have a funeral for him, but he's gone, and that's no lie," he added as he rose and started away.

  I tried to call to him, but my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I felt like I was shrinking right where I stood. A numbness washed over me. Had I been unfair, insensitive, after all? Was I wrong to assume he was full of deception just because he tried to make love to me? Beni used to accuse me of thinking so much of myself I wouldn't permit a boy to get too close. Had I done what she accused me of doing? Had I been so overly self-protective that I was just as unsophisticated and inexperienced when it came to boys as Audrey Stempelton was?

  Why was it all so complicated? Why couldn't people be who they seemed to be? I felt like I lived in a world full of mirrors and lights, all of them deceiving.

  Audrey was waiting for me when I stepped out of the theater. Everyone else was gone.

  "Are you all right?" she asked.

  I told her what Corbette had told me when I accused him of lying.

  "I knew I was right," she said as if the veracity of the information was the issue.

  "That's not important, Audrey. I felt terrible forcing him to tell me about his fight with his parents and his mother's attitude. It was as if I had invaded his very soul. He couldn't wait to get away from me."

  "He still lied to you," she insisted. "Besides, he's got a reputation."

  "Maybe. Or maybe it's just a lot of rumor and innuendo spread by jealous girls."

  "You said he almost raped you!"

  "I never said that. See what I mean? People don't listen and then they exaggerate. Who's to say it hasn't happened many times before?"

  "Well, I still think you'd be foolish to trust him," she said. She had been so happy when I was angry at Corbette. Now she looked sad and depressed again.

  "I don't know who or what to trust anymore," I complained. "And I'm tired. I'll see you tomorrow."

  I started for the car. Jake was leaning against it, reading a copy of the magazine from the American Association of Retired Persons.

  "You're not retired. Why are you reading that, Jake?" I asked and he folded it and laughed.

  "For as much as I do these days, I can qualify, princess. How's it look?" he asked nodding at the theater. "Should I buy a ticket?"

  "I don't know," I said.

  "You're looking a bit glum this afternoon. Miss some lines?"

  "I miss a lot of things, Jake, like my mama and my brother and the miserable life I once had."

  He laughed.

  "Come, on," he said opening the door, "I'll take you home a different way and show you something special."

  I got into the car and sat back with my eyes closed. I had a terrible headache, probably caused by tension and nerves. Jake babbled about the weather, his lumbago, and the stock market. He had told me he had a little money invested and he was doing better than he had expected. He called it his scrambled nest egg.

  "Here we are," he announced and I opened my eyes. We were on an unfamiliar side road. He slowed down and pulled to the side near a corral.

  "Step out a moment," he urged.

  I did as he asked and we looked over the fence. In the center of the field was a mare with a beautiful glossy brown colt. It had a white streak between its eyes and down to its nose and stood close to its mother, whose tail seemed to be waving flies off the colt. It looked our way curiously.

  "It was born just a week ago," Jake said.

  "It's beautiful.
Whose place is this?"

  "Oh, a friend of mine. That's my colt," Jake said. "What?"

  "I invested a little in horses. His father was a successful trotter, Fallsburg. He raced in Yonkers, New York, for years and did the circuit. It's a gamble, but the worst thing that'll happen is I'll have a beautiful animal, huh?"

  "He is beautiful, Jake."

  "Whenever I get a little sad or depressed now, I just take a ride out here and watch them for a while," he said. I nodded, smiling.

  "Thanks, Jake. Thanks for sharing."

  He shrugged.

  "Better get you home before we both are put in the dungeon," he said.

  I laughed and looked out the window as we drove away. The colt was still gazing in our direction.

  There was an ominous quiet in the house when I entered. I listened for sounds of Merilyn preparing dinner and then I started up the stairs. Mrs. Griffin came out of the bedroom as I approached the landing. She was carrying her small satchel.

  "That woman is impossible," she said.

  "What's going on?"

  "She fired her maid late this morning and has been arguing with me about everything ever since. I wasn't hired to be a cook and a maid. I've so informed her daughter. I've phoned for a taxi."

  She walked past me and down the stairs.

  "But..."

  She never turned back. I threw my books down in my room and hurried to Grandmother Hudson's bedroom. "Where have you been?" she demanded.

  "I just...Jake stopped to show me his horse," I said.

  "That horse? What a ridiculous investment. Men can be so foolish with their money, investing in dreams."

  "What happened to Merilyn?"

  "What happened was she left a ring around the tub, burned my toast and brought me a cup of coffee that you could use to grease a tractor. When I told her of all these transgressions, she resigned her position. I told her she had never truly filled it so she couldn't resign. She could just go and go she did.

  "And as for that nurse--"

  "But Grandmother, you can't stay here alone now."

  "Of course I can. I've done it before." She paused. "From what you tell me, you'll probably do just as well if not far better making dinner."

  I shook my head. "What does Victoria say about it all?"

  "She's delighted. Look at all the money I'm saving. Of course, now she anticipates more will be going to her when I'm gone." She propped herself up. "I'd be satisfied with a bowl of soup and a toasted cheese sandwich. Don't burn the bread," she added.

  "All right, Grandmother," I said and went down to the kitchen. I didn't mind preparing her dinner at all. I put a little butter and sweet pickle in her sandwich with a slice of tomato and onion even though she didn't ask for it. It was how Mama used to dress a cheese sandwich for me.

  When Grandmother Hudson took a bite, she looked up surprised. I held my breath. She took another bite and then looked at the sandwich.

  "This is excellent," she said. "Something coming out of my kitchen with taste. What a surprise. Now go eat your own dinner and do your homework. No one is going to blame me for any of her own failings," she declared.

  I laughed and returned to the kitchen. Before I started to do anything, the phone rang. It was Corbette.

  "Hi," he said. "I'm sorry I was so nasty."

  "It's all right. I understand."

  "Good. I was seriously thinking that you and I should get together again."

  "I don't think so, Corbette. Not for a while at least. Let's wait until the play is over. It's just too emotional for me and I've suddenly been given new responsibilities here."

  "Oh," he said dripping with disappointment. "You're still angry at me."

  "No," I protested. I took a deep breath. "I can't hide what I feel when I'm on the stage as well as you can. We have only a few more weeks of rehearsal."

  He was silent for a moment and then he asked, "Will you celebrate at our private cast party

  afterward? Just you and me," he said. "We'll sneak off to my place, okay?"

  There was Roy whispering warnings in my ear and there was Beni whispering in the other ear.

  "Okay," I said. Beni's voice was louder because it came from a deeper place inside me, a part of me that wouldn't be denied, the part that said, "It's time to know fully what it means to be a woman."

  No matter how I tried for the rest of the evening, I couldn't stop my mind from wandering, my thoughts from weaving their way back to Corbette's hideaway. He was waiting for me, drawing me to him. Every time I imagined myself in his arms, I pushed the thoughts away and turned back to my math or science homework.

  I stayed up as late as I could, reading and studying, but not because I wanted to do better in school.

  I was just afraid to dream that night.

  17

  Family Matters

  .

  During the days that followed, Grandmother

  Hudson got stronger and stronger. Even she had to admit finally that the pacemaker improved her circulation and her energy. Doctor Lewis visited her on Tuesday while I was in school, but she relished telling me how angry he was about the way she had treated Mrs. Griffin, bawling her out for chasing away the nurse he wanted to help her recuperate and monitor her progress.

  "'She's one of the best cardiac nurses I know,' he told me, but I told him even though she might be good with one organ, she's not good with the whole person."

  I laughed, imagining the doctor's face. He tried to get her to hire another nurse, but she refused. The nurse could have been Florence Nightingale herself and Grandmother Hudson would have sent her packing. A nurse just called attention to her condition and she wouldn't stand for it. She did call the agency to find a new maid, however. They sent over two candidates whom she interviewed while I was in school. She rejected them both, one because she didn't believe she was strong enough to clean a big house.

  "The girl was just skin and bones. She'd be gasping for breath after cleaning just one room," Grandmother Hudson told me. She just didn't like the second woman's face.

  "Too sour. She looks like she has a constant toothache."

  Because Grandmother Hudson paid so well, the agency promised to submit new candidates until she found one that pleased her. In the meantime, I did as much cleaning as I could and I prepared our dinners. Her compliments were less and less reluctant until she was finally lavishing praise on me and on Mama for teaching me so well. One night at dinner she talked about the cook her parents had. From the way she described her and her relationship with her, it sounded like Scarlett O'Hara and Mammy in Gone With the Wind.

  My mother had phoned twice to see how we were doing and reconfirmed her intention to bring Alison and Brody down on Saturday. I grew more and more nervous about it as the weekend drew closer. Victoria, who had been out of town on business, popped in on us toward the end of the week. I should rather say invaded, because when she came bursting into the house, we were just sitting down to dinner and she barged into the dining room, her black raincoat flying up around her as she swung her arms, her hair wild, her eyes blazing.

  At first I thought she was angry about Grandmother Hudson firing another servant and driving out the nurse, but that was nothing compared to what truly had enraged her.

  "Well," she said pacing alongside our dining room table. "Don't the two of you look cozy."

  "Hello to you, too, Victoria," Grandmother Hudson said. "And yes, thank you, I'm feeling better."

  "I know how you're doing, Mother. I am in direct contact on a regular basis with Doctor Lewis."

  "Oh? He never mentioned it," Grandmother Hudson said. "Would you like to eat with us, Victoria? Rain has prepared a rather delicious stuffed veal loin, sweet potatoes, string beans and corn bread."

  "No thank you. I'm not here to eat, Mother."

  "Well, do you mind very much then if we begin, Victoria? You know how I detest it when my food is served cold."

  She began to eat. Victoria stood there fuming for a moment and then, rel
uctantly, sat across from me and reached for apiece of corn bread.

  "So where have you been, Victoria?" Grandmother Hudson said casually.

  I was holding my breath because I knew something more significant was about to happen. I also knew Grandmother enjoyed baiting and teasing Victoria. Her attitude made me laugh, but I hid my smiles behind my drinks of water and behind chewing my food.

  "I've been in Richmond on the Snowden Project, Mother. I told you all about that, but you never listen to me when I discuss business."

  "It's usually so boring, Victoria. How can you enjoy all that work with profit and loss statements, receivables, ledgers and workman's compensation? It's more suited to men."

  Victoria pulled herself up in her seat. She looked like she had a spine that unfolded like a telescope, raising her neck and head higher and higher as she reached down for her words.

  "It's not only old fashioned, it's insulting to conclude that a woman can't succeed and enjoy herself in the business world today, Mother. Women are not only equal to men; they're superior in many instances, and men are beginning to realize it," Victoria bragged through thin lips and clenched teeth.

  Grandmother shrugged.

  "It's always been my experience that when you make a man feel inferior, you close down his heart and you lose your feminine advantage?'

  "That's your experience, Mother. That's passe."

  "Not for me," Grandmother insisted, which only further infuriated Victoria.

  "I didn't come here to debate equality between the sexes, Mother."

  "Oh, how I hate that terminology. Equality between the sexes. It's so ...impersonal," Grandmother Hudson said looking to me. "Makes us all sound like lumps of coal being balanced on a scale." I risked a small smile and she turned back to Victoria. "This is delicious, Victoria. Are you sure you won't have some of the veal?"

  "Yes."

  "When do you eat?" Grandmother Hudson pursued.

  She chewed her food and stared at Victoria as if she was interviewing some other form of human species.

  "I eat when I need to eat," Victoria replied impatiently.