Christopher's Diary: Echoes of Dollanganger - Page 76

I watched him leave. Until tomorrow. How many nights did Christopher and Cathy think that? Tomorrow never seemed to come for them. How could they live so long with their mother’s promises and not lose all hope? Something was happening to them. It had nothing to do with them getting sick, either. They had nowhere to go to explore and discover their own sexuality but inside themselves. It wasn’t going to end well, and I didn’t mean only whatever happened to their little brother. I was so tempted now to read ahead, but just like every time since Kane and I had begun to read it together, I feared he would feel betrayed. Somehow, for some reason, it didn’t seem like something I could do alone.

Usually, even on Sundays, I’d be up by the time my father rose in the morning, but this Sunday, I slept late, so late that he had to come to my room to wake me. I heard him knock and then peek in.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, I wanted to spend time with you at breakfast. I’m working up your favorite omelet.”

“Oh, sorry. What time is it?” I looked at the clock. Dreams, I thought, dreams had kept me sleeping later. They were a mixture of my life and Cathy Dollanganger’s. In one dream, my bedroom door opened, and Laura Osterhouse tiptoed in to pour tar on my hair. When I sat up in the dream, she wasn’t there. Kane was watching from the doorway. I did wake up, and because the dream was so vivid, I ran my fingers through my hair. Relieved, I went back to sleep.

“I’ll be right down,” I said, and he left. I did rush to get dressed. I so wanted to spend time with him before he left. He had everything ready, the table set, the oranges squeezed into fresh juice, and fresh bagels on a plate with my favorite ginger jelly.

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sp; Suspicion reared its ugly head.

Was he being extra nice to me because he felt guilty about his new, more demonstrable interest in Laura Osterhouse? Or perhaps it wasn’t as new as I thought. Perhaps he had been seeing her more than I knew. Was he about to make a life-changing announcement? I watched him closely as he moved about the kitchen.

“You feeling okay?” he asked when I began eating, very slowly, almost as if I had no appetite.

“I’m good,” I said. “So what exactly are you going to do today?”

“As it turns out, there’s a close example of the architect’s work that I’ve been encouraged to visit. There’s also been a serious modification to the plans.”

“What do you mean? What modification?”

“We’re going to install an elevator,” he said.

“But it’s only two levels, right?”

“Right, but if someone can’t navigate the stairway, it doesn’t matter if it’s two, three, or four levels.”

“Who’s going to live in this house? Don’t you know that yet?”

He shook his head.

I paused and sat back. “That’s weird, Dad. How can you build a house for someone you don’t know? I mean, someone who doesn’t watch it going up and make comments? Is it an investment property after all? A house built to sell? Are they asking you for an elevator so it could sell to anyone, even a very elderly person or something? I don’t get it.”

He shrugged. “I ask and am basically told not to be concerned, just do the work and follow the plans. Hey, workers in car factories don’t worry about who will eventually be driving them.”

“You’re not a factory worker. You’re a personal builder,” I said, perhaps too sharply.

“What can I do? I’m not walking off the job because I don’t know the personal stuff. I’ll build the house they want, make sure the landscaping is what they want, and hand over the keys to whomever when the time comes. What happens next is none of my business. I will say, Foxworth will be gone. Maybe people will stop asking us about it.”

“You never told me about the fight you had over it,” I said.

“Your aunt can gossip like a hen in heat,” he said.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me about that?”

“Roosters don’t gossip.”

“Chicken,” I said, and he laughed.

“I might not be back for dinner,” he revealed. “There’s a ribeye in the freezer and some chicken cutlets and—”

“Don’t worry about me. Where are you going for dinner?”

“Not sure yet. I figure since I’m close to Richmond, there’s an old navy buddy of mine I might meet, he and his wife.”

“That’s nice,” I said.

Tags: V.C. Andrews
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