Whitefern (Audrina 2)

“You know why he hit me so hard, don’t you?” she asked as I worked.

“Because you did a bad thing to Sylvia,” I said.

“No. It’s because he loves me the most and wants me to be the perfect Audrina, not you,” she said. Then she leaned forward to whisper, “He even told me to sit in the rocking chair so I could learn her special gifts.”

“No, he didn’t,” I said.

She smiled through he

r pain and lay back. “He loves me more,” she insisted. I watched her close her eyes and smile, despite what must have been terrible stings and aches.

I went back to sit with Sylvia, who was asleep, and brushed her hair off her face.

“I won’t let her do mean things to you again,” I told her. “I won’t let anyone, sweet Sylvia.”

The memory drifted away like smoke, but also like smoke, it left a bitter taste in my mouth.

“A toast, then,” Arden said now, raising his glass after pouring the wine. “To the baby who is coming, who is always coming.”

“A boy or a girl?” Sylvia quickly asked.

“Why, a boy, of course,” he said.

“Who told you? Papa?”

He looked at me and smiled. “Of course,” he said. “Who else?”

He drank his wine in one gulp and poured another. I looked at Sylvia. She drank hers quickly, too quickly, and he rose to pour more for her.

“Don’t,” I said. “You know she can’t handle it, Arden.”

“Oh, a little more,” he said. “To celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?”

“Sylvia is getting an art teacher, and I’m getting a partner, apparently.” He laughed and drank.

I served the salad, and we began to eat our first real formal dinner since Papa had died. I looked longingly toward his empty chair. Arden would never have said these things if Papa were still alive. Arden saw my gaze and read my thoughts.

“Tomorrow night, Sylvia,” he said, “you set my place there. It’s time we faced the reality. I’m the head of Whitefern now, no matter what our estate documents read. Is that all right, Audrina?”

“No. It’s not all right,” I said. “But you can sit there. Maybe it will help you think more of yourself. No matter what happened to him or to people he loved, Papa kept his self-respect.”

“Why is it that after people die, we think only good things about them and forget the bad?”

“I think about it all, Arden. Your mother told me to be that way. She knew I was proud of my father, even though there were many times I disliked him, regretfully so. She taught me that none of us is all good or all bad.”

“Meaning me?”

“Meaning all of us, Arden, so yes, you, too.”

“What about you, Sylvia? Do you think about all this? Do you think everyone is bad and good? Do you think?”

“Stop teasing her, Arden.”

“Teasing? Am I teasing you, Sylvia?”

He laughed, and we began to eat in silence. When I looked at Sylvia, I saw how happy she was despite Arden’s ridiculing her. At first, I didn’t understand why. Then I thought about what Arden had said and why that would make her happy. She was already planning it, I was sure.