The Daughters of Julian Dane

by Lucile McCluskey

  She had to do something quick. She rushed to the closest door – the one on her left. She tried the doorknob. It turned. She opened the door quickly and stepped inside the darkened room, closing the door softly behind her.

  She turned around in the unlighted room and was surprised to see the shadow of the tall headboard of grandmother’s bed across the room. The room was dark, but there was no mistaking grandmother’s bed. Crossing the room to the side of the bed, she could see a figure lying on the bed.

  “Grandmother,” She called softly. “It’s me, Vicki.” She reached out and touched the figure on the bed. “Grandmother, wake up.”

  “Huh? What is it? Mattie,” mumbled the figure as she turned over and reached for a small object attached to the headboard. A click, and a small light cast its glow on the woman on the bed and Vicki. The woman let out a startled shriek.

  Vicki, just as startled, exclaimed, “You’re not my grandmother!”

  “Who are you?” demanded the woman. “What are you doing here?” Then turning the small light fully on Vicki, she gasped, “How did you get in here?”

  “What are you doing in my grandmother’s bed?” Vicki demanded.

  “Your grandmother?” the woman asked incredulously.

  “Yes. You’re in my grandmother’s bed, and she’s not going to like it. Now, where is my grandmother?” Vicki demanded again.

  The woman raised to a sitting position on the side of the bed and moved closer to Vicki. She studied her from the bright red hair that lay about her shoulders to the green eyes, and the long legs in worn jeans. “Who let you in here? I’ll have somebody’s hide for this,” she said coldly.

  “Nobody let me in. I had to come through the kitchen to get up the secret stairs because somebody locked the side door. And grandmother is not going to like that. It’s supposed to stay unlocked for father and me. Grandmother said so,” Vicki declared defiantly.

  “I know who you are. I don’t know what kind of a game you’re playing, but you can cut the act. You might fool some people with your little charade, but you can’t fool me. Now get out of here!” The woman ordered as she reached for the phone on the table beside her bed.

  “I will not!” Vicki declared. The woman put the phone back in its cradle. “I came to see my grandmother. You’re the one who had better leave. If grandmother finds you in her bed, she’ll dismiss you, and you didn’t tell me where she is.”

  “Secret stairs?” the woman asked.

  “Oh, that just what grandmother calls the stairs with the doors at the top and bottom, only, the doors are not there anymore. I’m glad. I like it better. The stairs are not so dark now.”

  “How did you know there had been doors?”

  “Because that’s the way father and I come upstairs to see grandmother.”

  “Oh, really,” the woman said, and was silent for a few moments. “What about your mother? Doesn’t she come with you?”

  “Of course not! She has to stay home and keep Aunt Willy there while father and I visit grandmother.” Then with surprise, Vicki said, “I know who you are. You’re Gussie, grandmother’s new housekeeper. That’s why you’re in her bed, but you mustn’t lay on her bed. She won’t like you doing that. Where is Grandmother Victoria?”

  “Oh, yes. I wasn’t feeling well, so she let me lie on her bed while she’s out of the room. She’ll be back soon. Meanwhile, why don’t we have a little talk while you wait for her?”

  “All right, but I hope she’ll be back soon. I’m awfully hungry.”

  “It’s a bit early, but if you’d like some lunch, I could have some sent up.”

  “But I haven’t had breakfast yet,” Vicki complained.

  “Well, no wonder you’re hungry. Had you rather have some breakfast, then?”

  “Yes, please,” Vicki answered.

  “What would you like? The woman asked in a more friendly manner.

  “A bowl of oatmeal, a small pitcher of cream warmed just ever so lightly, two pats of butter...”

  “And one piece of toast buttered on both sides, and a half glass of orange juice, freshly squeezed,” the woman muttered slowly as if remembering something long forgotten.

  “How did you know?” Vicki asked. “I’ve never had breakfast with Grandmother Victoria before in this house.”

  “Oh, well, uh, isn’t that what all little girls eat?” she asked. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Vicki – Vicki Dane. You should know that. You’re just teasing me.”

  “Just checking,” The woman said as she picked up the phone again. “Just sit down there,” she nodded to a chair beside a round, white covered table in front of a window whose blinds had not been raised.

  “Mattie,” she said into the phone, “do we have any half-and-half, and any white bread?” A moment later, “Well, that will have to do.” Then she repeated Vicki’s order for breakfast, and added, “and bring me coffee and Danish.” Moments later, she exclaimed, “Mattie, just do as you’re told and don’t ask questions!” Then turning to Vicki as she replaced the phone, she asked, “How often do you and your father come to visit your grandmother?”

  “We can only come when grandmother calls. We can’t come if Mr. Stone is at home, and only when Aunt Willy is visiting my mother, or is away somewhere else,” Vicki said and giggled.

  “At least you giggle like her,” the woman said irritably. “Why did you giggle?”

  Vicki giggled again. “It’s a secret.”

  “Oh, and what secret is that?”

  “I can’t tell you that. And I’m not supposed to know it, but I promised never to tell. Grandmother said it would make her very unhappy if I ever told it to anyone.”

  “And who else is not supposed to know the secret?” the woman asked sweetly.

  “Nobody, but especially Mr. Stone and Aunt Willy,” Vicki answered impatiently. “When is my grandmother coming back?”

  “Don’t fret, she’ll be here soon. Now, tell me, why isn’t Mr. Stone supposed to know the secret?”

  “Because he loves grandmother very much, and she doesn’t want to hurt him.”

  “Why isn’t your Aunt Willy supposed to know?”

  “Because she might tell Mr. Stone, and he mustn’t ever suspect.”

  “Suspect what?”

  “I don’t know what that word means. That’s just what grandmother said,” Vickie said crossly, “And I don’t want to talk anymore. I want my grandmother.”

  “No matter,” the woman said sarcastically. “I’m sure I know her little secret, even if I did learn it a little too late. But just be patient now. Your breakfast will be here very soon.”

  “I hope so, I’m awfully hungry.”

  “I think we’d better have some light,” she said as she turned on the big lamp on the bedside table.

  The room was immediately flooded with a soft light. Vicki saw the portrait on the opposite wall. She gasped, “Father’s portrait! How did it get here? Did father bring it to grandmother?”

  “Why, uh, yes. I – I suppose he must have.” The woman answered.

  “But won’t somebody see? Won’t Mr. Stone see it?”

  “Well, uh, she keeps it hidden under the bed. Yes, that’s where it stays most of the time. But why shouldn’t it be seen?”

  “Because that’s the secret,” Vicki explained.

  “Oh. I see. Mr. Stone must not know about your father. Well, well. Yes, I can see. If he knew about Julian, then he might have wondered about my premature birth,” she said as if thinking aloud.

  “Where did you say my grandmother went? Shouldn’t she be back by now?” Vicki asked almost begging.

  “I hear Mattie at the door. Your breakfast has arrived.”

  Vicki jumped up. “I’d better hide. Nobody must see me,” she said as she rushed to the nearest door, and slipped through it, closing it behind her.

  She found herself in a large dressing room with two other doors – one on the left wall and one opposite the door she had just come though. Sh
e walked quietly to the opposite door. There was a large key in the lock beneath the doorknob. She tried the knob. It wouldn’t turn. She turned the key below it. Maybe her grandmother was in this room. The key clicked, and she opened the door slowly. Immediately, she heard the sound of heavy breathing in the darkened room.

  There was a white metal bed in the center of the room, and a very large form lay sleeping under the covers. No. that would not be her grandmother. She was not even as big as the woman in the other room. She stepped back from the door and closed it softly, leaving it unlocked. She crossed the dressing room to the door of her grandmother’s bedroom where she heard voices.

  “It’s all right,” the woman was saying. “If I need you, I’ll ring.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” another woman’s voice said, and moments later she heard the bedroom door open and close. She opened the door and peeped out.

  “Come eat your breakfast,” the woman ordered. And Vicki quickly joined her at the table set for two.

  Vicki took her napkin and placed it just so. One corner pointing to her knees, two others pointing to her sides and one pointing to her chin – her lap completely covered. Next, she took the bowl of her spoon and created a hole in the middle of her oatmeal and buried the two pats of butter, covering them just so. Then she ate one half of her piece of toast and drank exactly half of her orange juice.

  A look at the woman made her think she had suddenly become ill. She was just sitting there staring at Vicki. “Aren’t you going to eat?” Vicki asked, but she didn’t answer, so Vicki continued with her breakfast by stirring the melted butter into her oatmeal then pressing the oatmeal away from the sides of the bowl with her spoon, making an indention to hold the cream that she poured.

  The woman gasped. Vicki looked up. Her face had become white. “Are you feeling worse?”

  “No! No. I’m all right, she stammered. “Just eat your breakfast,” she commanded. “Tell me,” she said a few moments later as Vicki ate with relish, “How old are you?”

  “I’m still six, but I’ll be seven soon. I’ll be seven when our baby comes to live with us.”

  “And you live in the log house?” the woman asked in a tone that told Vicki that she already knew the answer.

  “Yes. We do now, but father is having us a house built in town. We’ll live there after our baby comes. Father doesn’t want mother, and the baby, and me living across the river all by ourselves when he’s away,” she said slowly. She stopped eating as if suddenly troubled by something.

  “And I’ll be seven on my birthday,” she said somberly. “My birthday,” she whimpered as she laid down her spoon. “She died on my birthday!” she cried. “That’s why she’s not here! My grandmother died on my birthday!” Vicki wailed and began crying uncontrollably for several minutes.

  The woman just sat there waiting. When the sobbing began to subside, she pushed a box of tissues in front of Vicki, and when Vicki paid no attention, she grabbed a handful and pressed them into Vicki’s hand demanding, “Blow your nose and wipe your face.”

  Vicki did as she was told. Then still snuffling, she asked, “Will you please call my father to come and get me?”

  “So she died on your birthday,” the woman said, ignoring Vicki’s request. “And what about your mother?” she asked flatly.

  “My mother is at home,” Vicki answered between deep sighs. Our baby will be here just any day now. We don’t know if I’m going to have a baby brother or a baby sister ... My mother?” Vicki asked in a bewildered manner.

  “Yes. Where is your mother? Isn’t she dead also?” The woman asked in a cruel tone.

  “Nooo! Don’t you say that!” Vicki screamed. “My mother is not dead! She’s at home! She’s going to have our baby. She’s going to have our baby. Our baby – Nicki!” Vicki’s chin began to quiver. “She had our baby, Nicki, and – and ...” Vicki burst into tears again. “She died! She wailed loudly. “My mother died! Aunt Willy ...” she cried.

  “What about Aunt Willy?” the woman asked sharply. “What about Aunt Willy?” she demanded when Vicki didn’t answer.

  “Aunt Willy let my mother die!” Vicki moaned through her sobs. “Mother begged her and begged her, but she let my mother die! She’s mean! She’s mean to me! She said she’d have me sent to a boarding school, and I’d never come home again if I told father about mother begging her not to let her die!” Vicki wailed. “And I would never see father or my baby brother, Nicki, again! I can’t leave Nicki! I promised mother I’d always take care of him! Mother gave him to me!

  I’ll never leave him! Never! Never! Never!”

  “Oh, my God!” the woman moaned. “It is you! You’re Vicki Dane! I got rid of you once! Am I going to have to do it again?”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  The parsonage was a one-story ranch style of white brick, built in the new subdivision on the outskirts of Riverbend’s city limits. Della was glad she knew which house it was. In this fog, she might not have been able to find it. She was so relieved to finally be turning into the driveway. She stopped the car as close on the driveway as she could get to the house, for she wasn’t sure her shaky legs would get her to the front door. She was glad that the porch was on ground level, no steps to climb.

  She would get some cold juice and cookies from Brother Morris. She had to start paying more attention to her food intake, sick or no sick. Slowly, she got out of the car and walked gingerly on feet and legs that seemed to be walking on air, in the direction of the door. She couldn’t feel her feet as she took those last few steps and leaned against the door facing, pushing in the doorbell.

  Reverend Morris Kirkland opened the door almost immediately. “Della,” he exclaimed. I wasn’t expecting you just yet, but I’m so glad you’re here. Please come in. Where’s Addie?”

  Della stepped inside the doorway. “Brother Morris, I need some juice …” Her eyes rolled back, her mouth fell open, her knees began to buckle, her purse fell to the floor, and her sweater slid off her shoulders before the startled Morris.

  He grabbed at her, catching a handful of the silky blouse in his right hand causing it to pop open completely exposing her full swollen breasts as she went down. She was supported only by his grasp on the blouse until he got his left arm around her back. As he picked her up, the blouse fell back, and he sucked in his breath in such a sensual pleasure he felt it in a wave of heat that spread through his arms, his legs, his very being, and settled in his groin.

  He thought he must be dreaming. He had fantasized holding her in his arms just this way for so long, he couldn’t believe it was actually happening. Hugging her limp body to him, his eyes feasting on her beautiful breasts, their rosy mounds standing so enticingly erect, he licked his lips and swallowed hard as he experienced an instant erection. He closed the door with his back and headed for his bedroom to lay her on his bed, just as he had done so many times in his dreams.

  He lowered her gently to the bed, and without taking his arms from around her, knelt beside the unconscious form of the woman he desired above anything else in the world right then. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew there was something he should do – Della had fainted, but that was as far as he could think. He was completely lost in his desire, mesmerized by the sight of her beautiful, naked breasts, so full, so firm, so ravishing. Not even in his wildest imagination were they this – this ... Oh, God! He couldn’t stand it any longer. All the weeks of sleepless nights – thinking of her, wanting her so bad that his whole body ached. All the months of torment brought on by his unsatisfied sexual needs suddenly exploded inside him. He could not keep his hands, his mouth from her any longer.

  He kissed her still lips, her closed eyes, her throat as his hands fondled her breasts, the satin smooth skin of her midriff. His mouth found the full firm nipple as his hand unzipped her jeans and reached inside to explore the smooth skin of her belly, her pubic hair, his fingers finding the soft, moist opening between her legs.

  Della moaned softly, “Ben, no, Ben, p
lease,” She raised her arm weakly, her hand falling limply on Morris’ heavy head of thick, curly hair. Her eyes opened slightly. A strange light fixture waving fuzzily back and forth, then around and around on the ceiling. She turned her head and tried to focus on strange wallpaper dancing before her eyes. A voice that was not Ben’s murmured, “Della, oh, Della, my love ...”

  Della shrieked, “OOHH!” And grabbed a handful of hair of the head that pleasured itself at her breasts. With renewed strength, she yanked the hair backwards, and the tormented face of Brother Morris brought forth screams from her, as she gathered all the energy she could muster to shove and struggle to free herself from the strong hold of his arms on her body. All the while, she was feeling that she must be living in some sort of a nightmare! This couldn’t be happening to her!

  But the whining voice begging, “Della, my love, don’t do this to me,” as he struggled to possess her, assured her of its reality. His arms tightened about her as his mouth claimed hers, his tongue probing. Della bit down sharply on it, causing him to relax his hold on her. Quickly, she rolled away from him to the other side of the bed and onto the floor.

  The room swayed, as she struggled to pick herself up. Would she make it? She wondered. She couldn’t faint again. She had to get out of here.

  “Della, please!” he begged, as she made her escape from the blurred, swimming walls of Brother Morris’ bedroom. She tried to put her clothing back together as she went, but the buttons were gone from her blouse. She fumbled to cross the front panels of her blouse over each other and tuck them into her jeans. Snapping the band and pulling up the zipper, she staggered across his living room, her mind in a fog. A wave of dizziness swept over her so overwhelmingly as she reached the outside door that she was afraid she was going to pass out again. She braced herself against the door for a few moments, aware of the man’s footsteps and his pleading, whining her name. Slowly she retrieved her sweater and purse that lay on the floor, and trying to straighten her blouse more, she opened the door with what little strength she had left, and found herself face to face with Evelyn Ann Mobley.