"Don't you ever say anything like that again!" I reprimanded. "What Bart does is his own business. Where do you hear such gossip?"

At that New Year's Eve party a few of the guests that Bart had invited to his party had showed up, and soon enough I was tactfully finding out if they'd received Bart's invitation. No, everyone said, though they stared at Chris and me, then at Jory in his chair, as if they had many secret thoughts they'd never speak.

"Mother, I don't believe you," said Bart coldly when I told him the guests I'd met hadn't received his invitations. "You hate Joel, you see only Malcolm in him, and therefore you want to undermine my faith in a good and pious old man He's sworn to me he did mail off the invitations, and I believe him."

"And you don't believe me?" He shrugged. "People are tricky. Maybe those you talked to only wanted to appear polite."

Cindy left for school the second of January, eager to escape the boredom of what she considered Hell on earth. She'd finish high school this spring and had no intentions of going on to college as Chris had tried to persuade her.

"Even an actress needs culture." But it hadn't worked. Our Cindy was just as stubborn in her own way as Carrie had been in hers.

Melodie was quiet, moody and melancholy, and so tediously boring to be around that everyone avoided her. She resented caring for the small babies I had thought would give her pleasure and something meaningful to do. Soon we had to hire a nurse. Melodie also did very little to help with Jory, so I did for him what he couldn't do for himself. ,

Chris had his work that kept him happy and away until Fridays around four when he'd come in the door, much as Daddy had once returned to us on Fridays. Time repeating itself. Chris was in his own busy world, we on the mountainside stayed put in ours. Chris came and went, looking fresh, breezy, confident and overjoyed to be with us on the weekends. He brushed aside problems as if they were lint not worth noticing.

We in Foxworth Hall stayed, never going anywhere now that Jory didn't want to leave the security of his wonderful rooms.

Soon it would be Jory's thirtieth birthday. We'd have to do something special. Then it came to me. I'd invite all the members of his New York ballet company to come to his party. First, of course, I'd have to discuss this with Bart.

He swiveled his office desk chair away from the computer. "No! I don't want a group of dancers in my house! I'm not ever going to throw another party and waste my 'good money on people I don't even want to know. Do something else for him--but don't invite them."

"But Bart, once I heard you say you'd like to have his ballet company entertain at your parties."

"Not now. I've changed. Besides, I've never really approved of dancers. Never have, never will. This is the Lord's house . . . and in the spring a temple of worship will be raised to celebrate his rule over all of us."

"What do you mean, a temple will be raised?"

He grinned before he turned his attention back to the computer. "A chapel so near you can't avoid it, Mother. Won't that be nice? Every Sunday we'll rise early to attend services. All of us.'

"And who will be on the podium delivering those sermons? You?"

"No, Mother, not me. As yet I am not washed clean of my sins My uncle will be the minister. He is a very saintly, righteous man."

"Chris enjoys sleeping late on Sunday mornings, and so do I," I said despite my will to always keep him placated. "We like to eat breakfast in bed, and in the summers, the bedroom balcony is the perfect place to start off a happy day. As for Jory and Melodie, you should discuss the subject with them."

"I already have. They will do as I say."

"Bart . . . Jory's birthday is the fourteenth. Remember, he was born on Valentine's Day."

Again he looked at me. "Isn't it weird and meaningful that babies come often to our family on holidays-- or very near them? Uncle Joel says it means something--something significant."

"No doubt!" I flared. "Dear Joel thinks everything is significant--and offensive in the eyes of his God. It's as if he not only owns God but controls him as well!" I whirled to confront Joel, who was never more than ten feet away from Bart. I shouted because for some reason he made me afraid. "Stop filling my son's head with crazy notions, Joel!"

"I don't have to fill his head with those kind of notions, dear niece. You established his brain patterns long before he was born. Out of hatred came the child.

And out of need comes the angel of salvation. Think of that before you condemn me.

One morning the headlines of the local paper told of a family who'd gone bankrupt. A notable family that my mother had often mentioned. I read the details, folded the newspaper and stared thoughtfully before me. Had Bart had anything to do with that man's fortune suddenly di

sappearing? He'd been one of the guests who hadn't shown up.

Another day the newspaper told of a father who killed his wife and two children because he'd put the main part of his savings into the commodity market, and wheat had dropped drastically in price. There went another of Bart's enemies--once an invited guest to that unhappy Christmas ball. But if so, how was Bart manipulating the markets, the bankruptcy?

"I know nothing about any of that!" flared Bart when I questioned. "Those people dig their own graves with their greed. Who do you think I am, God? I said a lot of things Christmas night, but I'm not quite as crazy as you think. I have no intention of putting my soul in jeopardy. Fools always manage to trip themselves."

We celebrated Jory's birthday with a family party; Cindy flew home to stay two days, happy to celebrate with Jory. Her suitcases were full of gifts meant to keep him busy. "When I meet a man like you, Jory, I'm going to grab him so quickly! I'm just waiting to see if any other man is half as wonderful. So far Lance Spalding hasn't proved to be half the man you are."

"And how would you know?" joked Jory, who had not heard the details of Lance's sudden departure. He flashed his wife a hard look as she. held Darren and I held Deirdre. We were both supporting nursing bottles as we sat before the cozy log fire. The babies gave all of us reasons for feeling the future held great promise. I think even Bart was fascinated with how swiftly they grew, how sweet and cuddly they felt when on a few occasions he held them for several uncomfortable seconds. He'd looked at me with a certain pride.

Tags: V.C. Andrews Dollanganger Horror
Source: readsnovelonline.net