Secrets in the Shadows

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Secrets in the Shadows Page 18

by V. C. Andrews


  reckless as he was.

  "Whatever they did, they regret it now and will

  for the rest of their lives," Uncle Tyler said. "That doesn't bring him hack," I said. "No. Sometimes I wonder if it all isn't just

  dumb luck. When I was your age, I did some pretty

  stupid things and came close. You know what they

  say, There but for the grace of God go I.

  He studied me a moment, then put his cup

  down and ran his forefinger over the edge. I had long

  ago realized that was the preamble to some deep

  comment or very prodding question, so I braced

  myself.

  "I couldn't be more pleased about your wanting

  to live with us for your senior year," he began and

  then looked up aunt, "but I'd hate to think our

  agreeing to it was bringing your grandparents any

  pain."

  "I know." "And I'd hate to think you believe this is the

  total answer to everything. Those answers are inside

  you, Alice. It doesn't matter where you live." I thought for a moment. He looked like he was

  holding his breath. I knew he didn't want to do or say

  anything that would upset Zipporah.

  "I think it does in my case, Uncle Tyler. You

  see, where I live back in Sandburg my mother still

  lives. She haunts that village and those people. They

  won't let go of it, and that puts deep shadows inside

  me and prevents me from finding the answers you

  mentioned."

  He nodded. "Very good," he said and slapped

  the table. Then he stood up. "Your uncle Tyler hereby

  swears to keep his big mouth shut and his philosophical muttering to himself."

  "No, don't do that," I said, laughing. "I came

  here for those tidbits of wisdom."

  He laughed and hugged me just as Aunt

  Zipporah appeared in the kitchen doorway, still in her

  nightgown, her eyes looking like they were filled with

  spiderwebs.

  "What is going on here? It's still the middle of

  the night."

  "Not quite, Zipporah. Alice and I are solving the world's problems. We thought if we could do that

  before breakfast, we'd enjoy lunch."

  "Did he wake you up?"

  "No, I was up," I said. She tilted her head.

  "Little white lie," I added. "I'm taking your advice," I

  said, and she brightened a bit.

  "I'm going up to shower and dress. Since you've

  spoiled my night's sleep, I might as well start the

  day."

  "See you two later," Uncle Tyler said, starting

  out.

  "We're going to do a little shopping this

  morning. I told you, remember?" Aunt Zipporah

  called to him

  "Yes, no problem. We're fine. Take all the time

  you need," he said and left.

  "I'll be right down," Aunt Zipporah said. "Eat

  something. Don't wait for me."

  She hurried back upstairs.

  After she had her coffee and some natural

  cereal, we set out for the department stores. Although

  it was fun shopping with her, it reminded me of when

  I had gone with her, my grandmother and Rachel to

  get my prom dress and shoes. That memory kept me

  from enjoying myself, and Aunt Zipporah was perceptive enough to see that something was

  bothering me. I told her what it was and she nodded. "Alice, I didn't say anything when I went to

  Mom and Dad's and saw you had gone back to

  wearing these clothes and not doing anything with

  your hair and your face, but I'd like to see you try

  again."

  I shrugged. "What difference will it make?" "I think, just as before, it will help your selfimage, but it will be good for the restaurant," she said,

  half- kidding.

  "You think customers will be turned off by

  someone limping around and looking like I do?" I

  asked, maybe a little too sharply.

  She held her gaze. And then she smiled. "Tyler's not all wrong about some of the things

  he believes, Alice. He always says if you're not happy

  with yourself, you can't expect other people to be

  happy with you, right? That's not a mean thing to tell

  you, and I'm not saying we won't love and want you

  no matter what you decide, but will you at least think

  about it? I'd be more than happy to take you shopping

  for some clothes. Maybe I'll even buy something more

  up-to-date and get Rachel off my back," she added. "If you do, I will," I challenged.

  "It's a deal. Let's get all this back first, and on

  our way we can see how it's going at the cafe." We started for home. About two miles out of

  the village, we saw the boy who had been in the cafe.

  He was walking with his head down. He carried that

  same notebook and--speaking of clothes--wore what

  looked like the exact same things he had worn the day

  before.

  "That looks like Duncan Winning," Aunt

  Zipporah said and slowed down.

  He looked up when we pulled alongside him. "Hi, Duncan," she said. "Would you like a ride

  into town?"

  He looked at me, then shook his head. "No, thanks. I'm in no rush to get there," he

  said, lowered his head and kept walking.

  "He's a strange duck," Aunt Zipporah said, "but

  I can't help feeling sorry for him. He looks so lost all

  the time."

  "I'm sure people back home thought the same

  of me," I said.

  "The difference is you really do have family

  who cares, Alice."

  "I know."

  Aunt Zipporah looked at Duncan. "Someone told me he writes poetry. Maybe it was Cassie who

  told me."

  "Is that what he does sitting in the cafe?" "I guess so. I just equaled all the words I've

  ever said to him and he's said to me," she told me. "Doesn't he have any friends?"

  "I've never seen him with anyone when I've

  seen him, but I don't know much more about him. His

  mother and he live out on what was once a chicken

  farm. Again, according to Mrs. Mallen, who knows a

  little about everyone's business, Duncan's mother had

  a little money after his father took off, and she does a

  mail out business from her home. Mostly religious

  material. They also sold off some of their land for development." She smiled. "Little cities, lots of gossip." We started off again. I glanced at him as we

  passed him by. He kept his head down, but when we

  were well beyond him, he looked up to watch us

  disappear around a turn.

  "Does he get a job during the summer?" "I don't know, honey. I don't imagine he would

  be easy to employ. Even Tyler, the master guru,

  would have trouble dealing with someone so

  introverted," she said, smiling.

  I didn't smile. I thought to myself, If it weren't for my uncle and aunt, I'd probably not have a job for

  the summer either.

  For some reason, the cafe wasn't as jammed for

  lunch as it had been the day before, so we were able to

  continue home to bring everything into my bedroom.

  After we put on the new bedding and set out the area

  rugs, hung the new curtains and placed the lamp, we

  stood back together and considered.

  "You know what else you might think of

  doing?"

  "What?"

  "Pai
nting these walls a happier color. Or

  papering them. Something. Maybe," she added, "if

  you brighten up the room, you'll brighten up yourself

  inside."

  "Maybe." I relented, and we planned on when

  we would go look for some paint or wallpaper. After we made ourselves some lunch and ate

  and talked, I revealed that I had brought along one of

  the more fashionable skirts and blouses I had bought

  during our shopping spree before the prom. After we

  ate, I put them on and she smiled.

  "Now go fix your hair and put on a little

  lipstick, Alice."

  I did, and then we left for the cafe to help with the after-lunch cleanup and preparations for the evening dinner. The crowd had thinned out to where there were just two tables of four. It was Missy's turn to stay on. Cassie had left, and Mrs. Mallen had gone to the bank to make a deposit for Uncle Tyler. As soon as we entered, I looked over at the corner table and sure enough, there he was, Duncan Winning, his head down, scribbling in his notebook, a cup of coffee

  on the table.

  Aunt Zipporah raised her eyebrows and looked

  at me.

  "He doesn't usually come in two days in a row,"

  she said.

  I pitched in with the cleanup and preparations

  but looked at him periodically. Aunt Zipporah again

  muttered something about feeling sorry for him.

  Finally, I approached him. I knew he saw me coming,

  but he didn't look up.

  "What are you writing so intently?" I asked. I thought he wasn't going to answer, but I didn't

  move. I wasn't going to let him ignore me.

  He looked up slowly.

  "I'm keeping a sort of journal," he said, "but I'm

  writing it in poetry."

  "Really?"

  "No, I'm making it up because I'm really a spy

  from another planet taking notes on human behavior.

  Which would you rather believe?"

  "Very funny. How come you wouldn't accept

  my aunt's offer for a ride today?"

  "I don't like being indebted to anyone for anything."

  "A ride? What's the big deal?"

  "You give in on the little things and before you

  know it . . ."

  "What?"

  "You give away your soul," he said. I know I

  was smirking. He shrugged. "You asked, so I told

  you. Since you're being so nosy, I'll ask you some

  questions."

  "Go ahead."

  "What did you mean when you said you don't

  have any parents to take care of you? Are they dead or

  not?"

  "No, they're not dead," I replied but didn't add

  anything.

  "I guess you're not going to tell me. That's all

  right. I'll live without the information," he said and

  turned a page in his notebook.

  "My parents never married," I said. I wasn't sure why I should want to tell him anything, but I suddenly felt the need to do so. He was infuriating me, and it was like releasing some of the built-up

  steam. It was either do that or explode in his face. "Ali, an unexpected bundle of joy, huh? How

  old were they?"

  "In their teens."

  "So who did you live with before you came

  here?" "My father's parents."

  "Oh. They took on the great responsibility.

  What, are they getting too old to handle you?" "No, they're still very young."

  "So why do you want to go to school here?" "I need a change," I said. "Do you like going to

  school here?"

  "I don't think about it. I just go."

  "Do you have a job for the summer?" "I do everything around our house. Maintain

  the grounds, fix stuff. That keeps me busy. It's just my

  mother and me."

  "What happened to your father?" I asked. I

  remembered what Aunt Zipporah had told me, but I

  wanted to see what he would say.

  "I don't know. Maybe he was kidnaped by

  aliens."

  "Very funny."

  "Hysterical."

  "Do you want any more coffee?"

  "No." He closed his notebook and looked out

  the window. "So won't your boyfriend miss you?" "I don't have a boyfriend, and before you ask, I

  don't have any friends who will miss me either."Why

  not?"

  "I don't speak the same language," I said, and

  he finally smiled. He had a very nice smile, I thought.

  It was like a dash of light and warmth. I understood

  why my aunt wanted me to smile more.

  "You working here tonight?"

  "Yes."

  "I'm fixing up my scooter. It's not much, but it

  gets me around. I'm going home with some parts, and

  I think it should be in working order in a few hours. If

  you need a ride home afterward . . ."

  "You want me to accept a ride and risk giving

  away my soul?"

  He actually laughed and then stood up. "Okay," he said. "Touche." He started away. "I'll tell you what," I said, and he paused and

  turned hack to me.

  "What?"

  "I'll let you take me home if you'll let me read

  some of your poetry."

  He considered.

  "That way we're both taking a risk," I added,

  and he nodded.

  "Okay. I'll be back about . . ."

  "Nine-thirty," I said.

  He nodded and walked out. Aunt Zipporah

  stepped up beside me quickly.

  "Looks like you made something of a

  breakthrough. I don't recall anyone talking to him that

  long."

  "He's not bad," I said. "Sorta interesting in a

  strange way."

  "Strange?"

  "Different." I looked at her. "Like me." She smiled.

  "He wants to give me a ride home later. I said

  he could come by at nine-thirty, okay?"

  "He's got his own car? Why is he always

  walking everywhere?"

  "He said he had a scooter he was fixing and it

  would be ready to go tonight."

  She looked worried.

  "If he goes fast, I'll make him stop and walk," I

  promised.

  "Something happens to you here and I'm dog

  food," she said.

  "Nothing will happen. Bad, that is."

  "Okay. I guess I had better get used to having a

  teenager under my wing. Just like your grandfather

  warned." "It'll be all right, Zipporah."

  She hugged me.

  "I know it will. Let's get back to work," she

  said.

  I did, and with a new spurt of energy that

  surprised me the most.

  Because we weren't that busy and I had time to

  loiter, I kept looking to see if Duncan had arrived

  early. I probably would have been thinking about him

  anyway. Aunt Zipporah caught me watching the front

  of the cafe and smiled to herself. Both she and Tyler

  had already discussed Duncan bringing me home, I

  was sure.

  Just after nine, I saw him pull up on his scooter

  and park it outside the cafe, but he didn't come right

  in. He sat on it and folded his arms, looking off in the

  opposite direction as if he had no special reason to be

  here and couldn't care less if I came out or not. "You can go now, Alice," Aunt Zipporah told me. "There's not much left to do. We'll be along in a

  couple of hours," she added.

  "Okay."

  "Please be careful," she said and then laughed.

&nb
sp; "Like I ever paid attention to that when my parents

  said it."

  "I will," I told her with firmness.

  "Unfortunately, know what it means not to be." . She nodded, "I guess you do."

  I took off my apron and headed out. I knew he

  was watching for me out of the corner of his eye no

  matter how coolly indifferent he tried to look, because

  the moment I emerged, he turned.

  "Released early for good behavior?"

  "Something like that," I said. "You sure this

  thing is safe?"

  It was a well-dented black scooter with some

  rust.

  "It has a top speed of thirty-five miles an hour

  downhill. Don't worry," he said and sat. He waited. I

  looked back through the cafe window and saw my

  aunt watching with worry scribbled all over her face.

  Then I got behind Duncan on the scooter.

  "You can hold on by putting your arms around

  me," he said and kicked the engine on. It sputtered. He turned back, smiling. "Look at that, you're making

  it stutter."

  "Very funny."

  We started away.

  "How do you know where I live?" I asked as he

  headed out of the city.

  "You're with your aunt and uncle, right?" "Yes."

  "Everyone knows that house. It's one of a kind

  around here."

  Although we weren't going fast, the breeze

  slapped at my face enough for me to rest the left side

  of my head against his back. We were silent, moving

  through the darkness with just the rather dim

  illumination of the scooter's weak front light clearing

  away the night. There was no moonlight, and a mostly

  cloudy sky hid whatever starlight the celestial ceiling

  was willing to offer.

  We didn't speak until we reached my aunt's

  home and he pulled into the driveway and stopped. I got off. He remained seated, the engine

  running. "I did my end of the bargain," I said. "Where

  are your poems?"

  "You really want to read them?" he asked, his

  voice full of skepticism.

  "That was the deal. Well?"

  He shut off the engine and reached into his

  jacket to pull out the notebook.

  "You might as well come inside," I said. "I can't

  read them in the dark."

  He looked at the house as if something about it

  terrified him, and he did not make any effort to get off

  the scooter.

  "What?"

  "That's all right. I've got to get home." "Really?"

  "You can hold onto the notebook until

  tomorrow. I'll come by the cafe and pick them up." He kick-started the scooter.

 

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