Celeste

by V. C. Andrews

  "You see that movie on television about a month ago about that teenage girl who discovers she was kidnapped by the people she thinks are her parents?"

  "I don't watch television," I said. "-What?"

  I put the pole over my shoulder, picked up the tackle box, and then hugged the worm can against me.

  "We don't watch television."

  "You don't ever watch television?"

  "That's right."

  "Well, what do you do at night?"

  "Read, listen to music, work on projects."

  "I'd go crazy without television. Dad promised to get us hooked up as soon as possible. We don't get anything on that old antennae. Do you get to a movie once in a while at least?"

  "No," I said starting away.

  "Well, don't you want to?" he asked, charging after me. I walked on. "Huh?"

  "Sometimes." I confessed.

  "But your mother won't let you."

  "She says there's not much of any value to see,"

  "How would she know if you don't go?" he asked. "Oh. I get it. She can see beyond," he said dramatically, and swept his arm out toward the horizon.

  "Anyway, let me tell you about this movie last week," he continued, walking alongside me. I felt myself smile inside. It seemed he needed company more than I did, "So they come to get the girl. The cops come to the house and tell her she's been kidnapped by her so-called parents and they confess. She gets returned to her real family, but the grandmother doesn't want her to be brought back."

  "Why not?" I asked.

  "Turns out the grandfather is her real father." I stopped and shook my head.

  "I don't understand."

  "What's so hard? The grandfather had sex with his daughter-in-law, and she was born, and the grandmother had her stolen off when she was a baby. I bet you wish now you saw the movie. huh?"

  I said nothing.

  "They replay them sometimes. If I see its coming on, I'll let you know. and you can watch it at my house."

  I started to shake my head.

  "You don't have to tell your mother where you're going. You'll just pretend to go fishing or something."

  "I don't lie to my mother," I said sharply.

  "Yeah, right."

  "I don't."

  "Well, it doesn't have to be a lie as such. You just don't tell her everything. What they don't know doesn't hurt them," he recited.

  "You can't have a loving relationship without honesty," I preached.

  He swung his eyes.

  "Oh. brother. You've been living alone too long. Noble. When you do break out of here, you're going to be like a kid in a candy store, and that's when you do get into lots of trouble," he said, trying to be the wise one now. I had to smile. "What's so funny?"

  "That's the best excuse for doing bad things I've heard or read."

  "Yeah, well, its true. Look at these college kids who are on their own for the first time in their lives."

  "What do you mean?"

  "They go wild. They drink too much, stay out too late. Get pregnant, do drugs. everything. If their parents didn't keep them so chained up all the time, they wouldn't turn out that way," he said. nodding.

  "Did your parents keep you and your sister chained up?"

  "No, not really."

  "So?"

  "So what?"

  "You just finished telling me about all the trouble your sister's been in with older guys and how you've messed up so much yourself. right?"

  "Oh. you're such a puss--"

  "Look, go find a dictionary and learn another word, will you?" I said and moved faster.

  He stopped.

  "Maybe your mother will let me go to your home school and get smart like you," he called after me.

  I didn't turn around.

  "I tell you what," he shouted. "come around and I'll teach you about conjugation and you can improve my vocabulary. Just in case you're ever with something called a girl!" he screamed.

  Cleo paused to look back at him.

  "Come on. Cleo," I said, "Leave him be."

  I hurried home to clean up before Mommy saw me and wondered why I was so muddied and disheveled. Afterward. I tried to do some reading and move forward on the lessons Mommy had outlined in science and math. but I kept finding myself distracted, pausing for long moments and thinking about the things Elliot had told me. Being with him and listening to him did leave me feeling as if I was stranded on an island. Was this the evil that Mommy was afraid would infect me? Were these images of sex and the stories he told like germs or something? I fought hard to keep them out of my mind. It frightened me that I was having so hard a time doing it. In the end I decided to go out and up to the old cemetery. It was where Mommy went for spiritual guidance. I thought. Why shouldn't I?

  As was often the case during these late summer days, the sky changed rapidly. Warm, increasingly humid air warned of an impending shower. Despite our altitude being up in the mountains, we could get a downpour thatIm sure seemed more like a tropical storm. The clouds above circled the patches of blue, closing them off with what looked like real

  determination. Where was Mommy? I wondered. Why was it taking her so long? She said she was going nowhere else.

  I stood before the old tombstones and tried hard to feel some spiritual presence.

  "Please come back to me, Daddy." I prayed. "I need you. Please. I don't want to be bad. I don't want to do anything to hurt myself or Mommy."

  I touched the Infant Jordan tomb the way Mommy always did. and I closed my eyes andtried to feel those embossed hands move, but all I felt was the cool stone. Nothing happened, even after I sang some of the old hymn Mommy sang. Cleo watched me from outside the gate and then sprawled out and waited, lowering his head to his paws and closing his eyes.

  Suddenly he lifted his head and looked toward the driveway. I turned and saw two cars approaching. One was Mommy's, but one I did not recognize. As they drew closer. I saw that someone else was driving Mommy's car, a man in a blue shirt. Mommy looked very upset. The second car was driven by a man wearing a similar shirt. I hurried out of the cemetery and down to the front of the house as they pulled up.

  The man driving Mommy got out quickly and went around to open her door. I saw he was wearing some sort of uniform with matching blue pants. The second car stopped, and that man. dressed similarly, stepped out and walked slowly toward them. Mommy's driver helped her out. She looked wobbly.

  "Mommy?" I cried.

  "She's all right," the man helping her said.

  Mommy opened her eyes and looked at me, strangely at first, and then calmly, nodding at the door. I hurried ahead to open it, and they all walked up.

  "I'll be fine now Mommy said, turning to the man helping her. "Thank you. Thank you both."

  "You really should have let the doctor look you over and do those tests. Mrs. Atwell," he said. He turned to me. "Keep an eye on her," he said.

  They turned and went to the second car. "What happened. Mommy?"

  "Let's just go in," she said quickly, and we entered the house. She closed the door, took a breath, and walked to the living room.

  I followed and watched her move as quickly as she could to Great-Grandad Jordan's chair. Once she was in it, she looked relieved.

  "What happened?"

  "I fainted in the lawyer's office. They took me to the hospital before I could protest, and then those two attendants insisted they take me home and not let me drive myself. I'm fine," she insisted,

  "Why did you faint?"

  She shook her head, looked away, and then turned back.

  "Maybe it was just too hard to be forced to remember everything, losing... losing a precious child like that and being made to acknowledge it. It was just like going to a funeral, watching the coffin lowered, the dirt cast over it, facing the reality. My heart skipped beats and I lost my breath. I'll be fine." she insisted. "I just need some rest. Get me a glass of cold water," she told me. and I hurried to do it.

  She drank it slowly, and then she l
eaned back and smiled at me.

  "We'll be all right." she said. "This is nothing." She closed her eyes a moment and then opened them quickly. "Did I see you were at the cemetery when we drove up to the house?"

  "Yes." I said.

  "Why?" she asked.

  "I,.. I was hoping... I wanted to..." Her eyes grew small.

  "You didn't do anything you shouldn't have done, did you. Noble?"

  "No," I said quickly, maybe too quickly.

  "If we weaken our fortress, they will come marching in," she assured me.

  I bit down on my lower lip as she studied my face. "Go make yourself something for dinner," she said. "What about you. Mommy?"'

  "I'm just going to sit here and rest. Go on she said.Ill be all right now."

  I hesitated, and then I started out. At the door I turned back to look at her. She had her eyes closed and her head back. and she looked like she had aged years.

  It couldn't be just the thought of losing a child, could it. I wondered? How many times did she relive it? Why did our attorney have to force her to face it again? Why couldn't people just leave us alone?

  Maybe it had to do with something else. Maybe it was because of how I had strayed and how I had let my mind wander and dream and fantasize. Mommy always warned me they could read my thoughts.

  This is my fault. I concluded.

  Somehow, some way, this is my fault. I had to try harder to be good.

  Why was it that voices inside me were warning me it would be more and more difficult to do?

  I trembled inside just the way Mommy often did when she sensed something dark and dreadful was nearby.

  Only it wasn't just nearby for me. I thought.

  For me, it was inside, resting comfortably under my heart.

  13

  Through a Peephole

  .

  Mommy seemed better later in the{ evening,

  although for days afterward, she did move lower and take more naps, often falling asleep in the living room.. Sometimes. when I saw her napping. I noticed that her eves twitched and her lips trembled. One particular time, she woke with a start and looked about as if she didn't know where she was or how she had gotten there.

  "What is it?" she asked me when she caught me standing there and staring at her, "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing," I replied quickly.

  She looked suspicious and wrapped her shawl around herself.

  "Get back to your work," she ordered, and afterward. I was the one catching her staring at me. I don't know what she expected to find me doing or what she thought she might see. It made me very nervous. I wandered if anything dark and foreboding was following me around the farm. something I was unable to see myself.

  Summer was fading quickly this year. Nights were colder than usual, and the leaves actually began showing signs of turning by late August. We had an early frost, too, and that hurt some of our late corn and other vegetables. Mommy even complained about her herbal garden and the effect the early cold was having on those plants. It appeared her spiritual advisers were right when they told her this was going to be a longer, harder winter than usual.

  I avoided the woods and didn't go fishing. Every once in a while, I was sure I spotted Elliot watching our house and me from the forest's edge, but I did not acknowledge him, and he remained in the shadows or behind some trees. Because of the stories lie had heard about us, he was sufficiently afraid of Mommy. I suppose, to keep from approaching our home or me. After a while. I didn't see him anymore, and then, of course. I knew that public school had begun and he would be occupied and have made new friends by now anyway.

  Mommy was annoyed about having to do another independent study plan and submit it, but she had to by law. This time she went to the school without me to deliver it, and when she came home, she mumbled and grumbled about the arrogance of Dr. Camfield and all those educators who were full of themselves.

  About mid-October, it began to rain a great deal. Some of the downpours were long and hard, so that before the month had ended most of the beautiful yellow, brown, and orange leaves were pounded off their trees and matted down on the forest floor. the cold raindrops like nails. Skeletons appeared again. Dull, dark, naked branches, awkward and twisted, emerged in the twilight. Their grayness was like a single, leaden note resounding around our house. The birds that hadn't already fled south looked depressed, hardly flitting about and rarely singing. They resembled stuffed birds more than live ones at times.

  Mommy took to sitting for long hours alone, staring out the living room window into the darkness, which was often undisturbed thick coats of night because of the predominantly overcast skies. She didn't speak much about any spiritual presence. She never mentioned Daddy anymore. The truth was, she was acting lonelier than me, and because of that, I was more and more worried about her.

  We did continue to do all our chores and keep busy. I studied whatever lessons she set out for me to study, and she played her piano, albeit not as much as usual, and the music she chose was rarely light or happy. She seemed to want to bathe herself in a pool of melancholy. She complained about the cold weather's effect on her hands and moaned about the poor quality of some of her remedies these days. Even so, she continued her needlework and kept the house as clean as ever, if not more so.

  I did constant battle with my our driving curiosity, which wanted to take me by the hand and lead me back to spy on Elliot and his father and sister. Another world, a family with all of its laughter and tears, anger and joy, loomed just through the island of trees between us. I toyed with approaching their home from the road instead of going through the woods. I lingered at times at the edge of our property and dared myself to go forward. but I hesitated long enough to overcome the urge and return to my own world.

  And then, one day in early November. when I was gathering some kindling wood at the edge of the forest. I heard Elliot call to me. I turned and saw him leaning smugly against a maple tree, that impish smile of his twisting his bright lips. He wore a red jacket and a baseball cap with NEW YORK YANKEES written on it. I heard keys jangling and saw him hold up a set and shake them.

  "Guess what these are." he said.

  I looked toward the house first to see if Mommy was outside, and then I stepped forward, the kindling wood in my arms.

  "I have no idea." I said, trying to imply I had no interest either, even though I did.

  "To my car. stupid. I passed the test easily enough, and my father had no choice but to do what he had promised. It's a four-year-old car, but its pretty sharp. It's black, a metallic black. you know, with chrome wheels."

  "I'm happy for you," I said and turned to carry the wood to the house.

  "Hey, hold up. Don't you want to know what I've been doing all this time?"

  I paused. "No," I said.

  "Liar. I looked for you at the stream from time to time, but never saw you there. How come? Afraid you'll fall in the water again?" he asked, widening his smile.

  "No, I'm not afraid of anything. I've been busy, that's all. There is a great deal to do around here," I said. and little time to waste talking to you."

  "Right, like feed the chickens. I'm in school. you know. I made some friends. It's not as terrible as I thought it was going to be. There are these girls who are actually pretty cool."

  "Great. I'm happy for you."

  "All right, all right," he said, turning serious. "I'm sorry I pushed you around."

  "That didn't bother me," I snapped back at him. "Good. You want to take a ride with me?"

  "No."

  "Why not? Jeez. We'll cruise the area, check it out. Hi introduce you to some other guys our age and maybe some girls, too. I won't even ask you to chip in for gas."

  "I don't want to cruise the area. There's nothing and no one that interests me," I said. "Enjoy your car," I told him and hurried away.

  "Even my sister? Even she doesn't interest you?" he screamed after me.

  I heard him laugh, but I didn't pause. I continued toward the h
ouse without turning and entered. For a moment I remained at the door. Then I peered out the front window and looked toward the forest where he had been standing. He was gone.

  But I didn't feel relieved. I felt disappointed.

  A few days later, we had an early snow. It was actually a welcome sight because the white blanket covered the gray, dreary trees and pale grass and bushes. Even the birds that spent their winter with us looked pleased and more energetic. The day after it was warm again, however, and the cloudless sky gave the sun an opportunity to melt the snow quickly. The world glistened, especially in the moonlit evening when the cold air hovered around freezing. The trunks of the trees and the branches shimmered like someone had painted them all with a glossy clear polish.

  I was free in the afternoon. Mommy had fallen asleep again after spending the morning cleaning the house, this time with a vengeance. She seemed to see dirt where there wasn't any, spots where there were none. Toward the latter part of the morning, she went up to the tower room to dust and scrub. I could hear how intensely she was working. and I wasn't surprised when later, after lunch, she practically collapsed on the settee and dozed off.

  A terrible new sense of loneliness came over me. It had been so long since I had a companion. Despite the facade I had put up in front of Elliot, work, as hard and as long as it could be, didn't compensate. I was actually running out of ways to occupy my mind, and the school lessons Mommy set out were easier than expected. In the back of my mind I thought the school lessons for Celeste would have been more of a challenge, but I dared not say anything like that.

  The truth was. I couldn't ignore the stirring going on within me. Even without mirrors. I found ways to see my reflection, sometimes in a

  windowpane, sometimes in some shiny silver. The face that looked back at me intrigued me. It wasn't the face I felt I wore. It truly looked more like a mask. Where am I. the real me? I wondered. Where have I gone?

  Eventually, a Greek myth I had read recently drew me back to the water, where the stream was caught and circled into something of a pond. Years and years ago, when Daddy was alive, he would take us to the pond to swim. The myth that tickled my brain was the myth of Narcissus. Looking into the water. Narcissus fell in love with his own image, and when he realized it was only an image, he died. Mommy wanted me to read it so I would learn to be unselfish and avoid caring too much about things that didn't matter. I understood all that. but I still longed to see something beautiful in me. Was that evil?