Shooting Stars 03 Rose

by V. C. Andrews

  His self-pity dissolved as that look of interest and some trust seeped into his eyes again, warming them.

  "I saw just how many places you've lived in. Why did you move so much?"

  I looked off at the trees and folded my arms under my breasts.

  "I used to think it was just because Daddy got bored easily or didn't care about important things as much as he should have, but after we learned about..."

  "Me? The tragic accident of my birth?" he asked, the corners of his mouth turning down.

  "I don't think of you as a tragic accident. Evan. Look. I expect to get to know you better, and maybe I won't like you. Maybe you're too bitter, so bitter that I won't be able to help," I said. "But from what I can see and what I've heard so far, you seem to be very intelligent. When I said I wasn't sure I could help you as your tutor. I was thinking to myself that you've already taught yourself so much, you probably know more than I do even though I'm two years older than you.

  "Anyway," I continued. "yes, when we heard about you and your mother, both Mommy and I began to think that Daddy moved so much to avoid being pinned down by his added responsibilities. He was like that, I suppose," I said.

  Evan's face softened further, making him look more like a little boy to me.

  "I pretended I wasn't interested in him whenever Aunt Charlotte talked about him. but I would like to know more about him," he said. "I know I should hate him more than I could hate anyone. but I can't help wondering about him."

  "I couldn't help loving him. I still love him. He was probably the most charming manI'll ever meet. but I can't deny being hurt and disappointed by what he's done, for Mommy as much as for myself. Maybe more than for myself," I added.

  Evan stared at me and then, after a deep breath. said, "The reason I thought you wouldn't care to spend so much time with me is I thought you were so pretty, you surely had a string of boyfriends calling on you and would if you came here to live as well."

  "Well, thank you. but I don't have a string of boyfriends."

  "You won a beauty contest, didn't you?" he asked.

  "No. I didn't win. I was first runner-up. Wait a minute." I said with my hands on my hips. "'How did you know about that?"

  "Aunt Charlotte told me. She had a detective."

  "A detective? I thought she just had some attorneys doing some inquiries. A real detective?"

  "Philip Marlowe himself," Evan joked. "I don't know, some retired policeman. I think. That must have been some beautiful girl to beat you.'

  "I'm not that beautiful. Evan."

  "Can we promise each other that we won't lie to each other about the obvious at least. Rose? I'm crippled and you're pretty enough to be in the movies and that's that."

  It was my turn to smile.

  "She was related to the owner of the company," I revealed. He laughed.

  "I knew it. Don't you have at least one boyfriend, someone you like?"

  "I'm seeing someone nice at the moment, yes," I admitted. "I'd like you to meet him."

  He studied me for a moment and then looked down.

  "No, you wouldn't," he said. "You're just being nice. You probably don't want anyone to know about me," he added, reverting to that bitterness. "'There's no reason why you'd want anyone to know we're related."

  "That's not true."

  "My aunt promised your mother she'd keep it all secret. She told me."

  "Well, it's embarrassing for her."

  "And for you," he punched at me. "I'm just an embarrassment for everyone."

  He spun his chair around and started pushing himself back toward the house.

  I watched him for a moment and then shot forward and stopped him by putting my hands on his arms and leaning into him.

  "Just a moment." I ordered.

  "Let go. I got to get back to my room," he said. He glared at me, his eyes burning with anger and tears. He tried to thrust me aside. but I clung to his arms, weighing him and his wheelchair down so he couldn't move.

  "No. You're going to stay here and listen. I'm not someone you can click off like you click people off on your computer."

  "What?"

  His face turned crimson with race right down to his neck. I was sure his tantrums and explosions of anger always got him what he wanted, but my feet were planted firmly.

  "You're not going anywhere until you promise to stop this. I certainly don't want to move in here and live with you if you're going to be like this all the time."

  "Like what?"

  "Like Mr. Self-pity."

  I released my grip and stood up straight before him.

  "Okay, we won't lie to each other about the obvious. You're right, This is not a lucky break for you and most people are not crippled and in a wheelchair, but you'd be surprised at how many people are crippled in other ways. For one thing, you're more intelligent than most people your age. I can see that immediately. You could probably do something wonderful with your life because of that and because of other talents you have that you don't even know about yourself.

  "Most people who walk easily won't do something wonderful with their lives. I don't know if I'll do anything worth spit. but I'm not going to moan and groan about it. I'm going to make the best of what I have."

  His eyebrows lifted. "Really?"

  "Yes, really, Daddy didn't do a good thing with your mother and you. I know, but he had a philosophy that helped him get by and often helped me face disappointments. too."

  "And what exactly was this brilliant

  philosophy?" Evan asked, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest.

  "He used to say there was no sense in worrying about things you have no control over." I smiled.

  "What's so funny about that?" he asked.

  "When I was a very little girl and something would bother me, he would always come into my room to stop me from crying or sulking."

  "Terrific. Lucky you."

  "One day," I continued, ignoring his sarcasm. "he brought a beautiful little wooden box in with him. It's this big," I said, holding my hands about a foot apart. "and it has that face of tragedy engraved on it on one side, and the face of happiness on the other... you know, what the Greeks used."

  "You mean masks, not faces, and they originated with the Dionysian cult," he said.

  I smiled at him.

  "I bet you're a walking encyclopedia."

  "Walking?"

  "I mean..."

  "I know," he said quickly. "Aunt Charlotte calls me Mr. Computer Head. so I had this T-shirt made up: Evan Dot Com. I ordered it over the Internet. It's where I do all my shopping now. But forget that. Tell me about the box." he said impatiently, like a child who didn't want to have a fairy tale end.

  "Daddy said whenever something bad happened or something sad. I should write it down on a slip of paper and put it in the box and then turn the box so the happy face, the mask of comedy," I corrected. "is turned to me, and that would help me forget about it."

  He nodded slowly. I expected some new sarcasm any moment, but he looked thoughtful.

  "When you come here to live, if you actually do, be sure to bring the box along," he said. "I'll have lots to put in it," he added and wheeled himself forward. I watched him for a moment and then walked slowly after him, thinkin that maybe we were more alike than either of us really knew or, more

  importantly, wanted to admit.

  "Well, I see you two have been getting along like two sweet hummingbirds. That's wonderful," Charlotte cried as we returned to the patio.

  "Yes, everything's going to be just peachy-keen from now on. Aunt Charlotte,," Evan said and continued to wheel himself past Mammy and Charlotte and into the house.

  Mammy looked at me quizzically. I tilted my head a bit and smiled back at her with a slight shrug of my shoulders. She looked very anxious.

  "Why don't I let you two talk a bit?" Charlotte said, looking from me to Mommy. "I have to make some social phone calls. I'm on so many committees these days."

  Sh
e rose and went into the house, and I sat at the table watching the maid clear the food and dishes away.

  "What do you think of all this, honey?" Mammy asked.

  "I don't know, Mommy. It's certainly beautiful here."

  "And look at what would be our rooms, and there are servants and no more money worries. She wants to take me shopping the day after tomorrow," Mammy continued excitedly. "She says I must have what she calls 'decent clothes' to wear because she does a great deal of socializing and I must be part of all that now. I must say, my head is whirling. Parties, dinners, dances, trips to Atlanta to the theater, and she will pay for everything. Such generosity."

  "Did she indicate any more specifically what she expects from you, Mommy?" I asked

  suspiciously.

  Mommy shook her head.

  "Just to be here, to help create a feeling of family, to help her cope. I suppose. It doesn't sound very difficult. She's looking for a companion, someone her own age, I think."

  "Why would a woman with all this need to draft a companion, Mommy?"

  "I don't know all the answers. Rose, but should we look a gift horse in the mouth?" she asked.

  "I guess not."

  "Did you get along with Evan?"

  "He's a very sensitive and angry person," I said.

  "Who needs someone like you," Mommy insisted. I could see Charlotte had done a wonderful sales job, not that she needed all that many different ways to persuade. The house, the grounds, all of it was enough for anyone to give up her life without a second thought.

  "Maybe," I said cautiously.

  "So shall we say yes, Rose?" Mommy asked me.

  I took a deep breath. We were going to move again. Even Daddy's death didn't stop that now. Mammy looked so excited about it, so enthusiastic. How could I even think of putting up any obstacles at this terrible time in her life?

  I nodded.

  "Okay, Mammy," I said. "Let's move in."

  She clapped her hands and then reached out to hug me.

  Charlotte must have been watching us from inside that patio door because she was out just as we embraced.

  "Does that mean yes?" she asked Mommy.

  "It does." Mommy said.

  Charlotte smiled.

  "Welcome then, you two. My home is now yours as well." She turned to me and added, "Evan will be so pleased. Come upstairs, Monica. I must show you this new outfit I bought at Saks last week. I think we're almost the same size," she added,

  "Her closet is like a department store. She has clothing with the tags still hanging off," Mammy whispered and then she leaped to her feet and started toward her. Just before she entered the house she looked back at me and beamed a smile as she raised her arms.

  "We're due for a little luck," she called back to me and disappeared. I looked out over the grounds toward the shadows in the forest.

  A little luck, yes, but is it good luck or bad? I wondered.

  Time keeps all the secrets buried under weeks and days, hours and minutes, and we poor unfortunate souls have to pluck them away second by second, searching for our discoveries, our great moments of pleasure and happiness, and our great moments of terrible disappointments and sadness, I thought.

  How soon would we know what secrets awaited us here? I felt confident there would be more than one.

  Mommy was so eager to go home and start our packing, she was downstairs and ready to leave as soon as possible. Charlotte offered to hire people to help, but Mommy explained that we had so little of real value to bring with us, it wasn't necessary.

  "We'll donate our pathetic furniture to the Salvation Army," she told Charlotte. "Not a piece of it would belong here anyway."

  Pathetic? I thought. Once it was special to us; once we were happy about the house we had rented and the furnishing we were able to manage. Now, that was all to be discarded like so many of our recent memories. I knew if Mommy could, she would wipe her mind clear like some magic slate. She would be like Daddy was and think. Forget the past.

  Conrentrate only on the here and now. How sad it was that we had very little to cling to, to bring with us.

  Even our photo albums, full of pictures from so many different places, so many homes, looked more like a travelogue than a family history.

  "I'm happy about that," Charlotte told Mammy and then looked at me as well to add, "You're both starting a new life. Rose. Let everything be fresh. We're going to take you shopping for new clothes, too, and new shoes to match. Don't even bring an old toothbrush. I have new ones in your bathroom cabinets."

  Mommy laughed and the two of them walked out arm in arm as if they were already old, dear friends.

  "I'll say good-bye to Evan," I shouted after them.

  "Oh, yes, do that, and be sure to tell him you'll be back tomorrow."

  "Tomorrow, but that's so quick, Mommy. I have school and I have. . ."

  "Charlotte has arranged it all. Rose. You're enrolled in the school here already, remember? The administration is getting your transcripts in the morning."

  "How did..." I didn't finish the question. Mammy had already turned away. I finished it in my thoughts, however. How did she know we would accept and come here for sure?

  It put a cold but electric feeling through my veins and made my heart thump for a few moments. Were we so desperate and forlorn that anyone could come along and hold our destinies in the wind like kites and watch us be blown from one place to another? I could feel it. Whatever little control we had of ourselves was drifting away.

  Daddy had done a great deal more than he had ever dreamed when he had his love affair with Angelica and a child with her, I thought.

  Evan's door was open this time, but he was back where I had found him previously, at his computer.

  "Hi," I said. He wasn't wearing earphones. "I guess it's happening. We're actually moving in tomorrow," I said. He kept working as if he hadn't heard me. "Did you hear what I said, Evan?"

  "Yes, but I knew that was going to happen," he replied, still working the keyboard and looking at the monitor.

  "How did..."

  "Wait. There," he said and turned. I heard the printer going. "It' s coming out." He nodded at the printer, which was on the table to his right. I walked in and waited by it, watching as the picture began emerging. I felt the heat building in my neck and face as it was forming. Finally, it was done, and I picked it up.

  It was a picture of Daddy, me, Evan. Mommy, and his mother Angelica, all together.

  "How did you do this?"

  "It's not hard," he said. "I had pictures of everyone and scanned them in together to make that. There it is, the big happy family."

  It gave me the chills.

  "Where did you get this picture of Daddy?"

  "Aunt Charlotte found it in my mother's things. I got your picture and your mother's from the file Aunt Charlotte's detective made.

  "I was going to put Aunt Charlotte in there, too, sort of in the background like some puppeteer or something. What do you think? Should I?"

  I stared at him. He smiled.

  "Come here, watch this," he said, and began working again. He brought up a picture of Charlotte, cut off her head and pasted on the body of a small gorilla. I laughed and then he put her head on the body of a naked, buxom woman.

  "Evan!"

  "It's magic. I can turn anyone into anything. Look what I did for you," he said and clicked something that was already completed.

  It came up on the screen. He had taken the photo of Sheila Stone from the newspaper story of the Miss Lewisville Foundry Beauty Contest and substituted me with the crown on my head.

  "See how easy it is to right the wrongs?"

  I laughed, and he clicked again and brought up a picture of himself riding a horse, and then one with him running in an Olympic race.

  "I wish that was real. Evan," I said softly.

  He smiled at me.

  "It is real. This is make-believe," he said, indicating his wheelchair. Daddy would agree, I thought. Daddy would l
ove this.

  "You've got your own magic box," I said softly, gazing at his computer monitor.

  "Exactly," he said, smiling, and I wondered if I really would help him or harm him by doing what Charlotte had hoped I would do: bring him out of this room and away from his own world.

  6 A New Life

  Mommy attacked our home with a vengeance. It was as if she was getting back at all the bad luck and hard times she had ever suffered after marrying Daddy. Anything that in the slightest way provided a painful or unpleasant memory was eagerly dropped into the garbage cans, no matter what its monetary value. She did the same with things I had thought were important reminders of her relationship with Daddy.

  I was really surprised at how she sifted through her wardrobe, selecting so many dresses, blouses, pants, and even shoes to give away. None of it was worn-out or faded. When I questioned her, she turned to me and said. "You heard Charlotte. What point would there be in bringing these clothes to that house? They're so out of style, she wouldn't want me to wear them anyway. And besides." she added like a little girl just before Christmas. "she's buying me a whole new wardrobe. You heard her."

  "Maybe she was just exaggerating. Mommy." She thought a moment and then shook her head, first slowly and then vigorously as she convinced herself more and more. "No, no. Rose, she wants us there too much and she doesn't want us to be unhappy and leave. No. For the first time, what little old me wants is going to be important."

  She then advised me to do the same thing: scrutinize my clothing and pack in boxes whatever was too old or out of style.

  "You'll give it away along with all my stuff." she told me, but I didn't listen.

  Something inside told me to beware of being too beholden to Charlotte Alden Curtis. Maybe it was the manner in which Evan spoke of her and showed what he really thought of her. His sarcastic remarks about her seemed sharper to me than they were about anyone or anything else, and when he looked at her, he always seemed to narrow his eyes with suspicion and distrust. I realized of course that it could just be his way. He had first looked at me in a similar fashion. Still. I wasn't as optimistic about the move as Mammy was. In the back of my mind, I saw it as just another pit stop on the way to some other destination Fate had already determined for us.