Tom and I lay side by side on our floor pallets, thinking now that Grandpa should use the bed to comfort his old bones with softness for a change. "It makes me feel bad," Tom whispered. "Stealing from people who work hard to earn money. I gotta get a job, even if I don't come home till midnight. An I can always do a little stealing from rich folks' gardens. They don't need extras anyway."

Trouble was, valley folks didn't trust hill boys not to steal, and finding a job wasn't easy. In the end all of us had to sneak again and again to Winnerrow and steal. Then came the day when Tom stole a pie he saw cooling on a window ledge and ran all the way back to the cabin to share the pie with us. I'd never seen such a delicious-looking pie, with crust fluted perfectly even all around the edges, and juice bubbling up out of holes punched in a flower design on the top crust.

It was a tart apple pie that tasted so good I didn't really want to scold him for becoming an expert thief.

"Oh, it's all right," laughed Tom with twinkling eyes. "This pie we just finished off was made by your boyfriend's mother, an ya jus know Logan would give up anything to make his Heaven's family happy."

"Who's Logan?" mumbled Grandpa, while the taste of the pie still warmed my mouth and thrilled my taste buds.

"Yeah," growled a familiar deep voice from the doorway, "who's Logan? And where the hell is my wife? Why is this place such a pigsty?"

Pa!

He strode in, carrying over his shoulder a huge burlap bag with bulky things inside that had to be food supplies, and he hurled all that he'd brought onto the tabletop.

"Where t'hell is Sarah?" he yelled again, glaring at each of us in turn.

Not one of us could find words to tell him. Pa stood tall and lean, his bronze face clean-shaven and paler than usual, as if he'd undergone a great ordeal, and had lost at least ten pounds, and yet he looked fresher, cleaner, and, in a way, healthier than when I'd seen him last. He appeared a dark-haired giant, reeking of whiskey and that strange, overpowering scent that was strictly male. I shivered to know he was back; at the same time, I was overcome with relief. As mean as he was, he'd save us from starvation, now that real winter was upon us, and every day snow would be falling, and the wind would be whistling around our frail cabin, finding all kinds of ways to get in and chill our bones.

"Ain't nobody here who knows how t'talk?" he asked sarcastically. "Thought I sent my kids to school. Don't they learn nothin? Not even how to greet their own pa, and say they're glad to see him home again?"

"We're glad," said Tom, while I got up and turned again to the stove, ready to do my best to cook another meal, now that we had plenty, from the looks of that bag. And I was, in my own way, trying to hurt Pa as he so often hurt me with his indifference.

"Where's my wife?" he bellowed again. "SARAH!" he shouted. "I'm back!" His yell could have been heard down in the valley . . . but it didn't bring Sarah.

He checked the bedroom, standing with his hands holding the curtains spread apart, his legs wide, as he looked in and didn't understand. "In the outhouse?" he asked, turning again to Tom. "Where is Ma?"

"I'll be only too happy to tell you," I spoke up when Tom floundered.

He flashed his dark eyes my way. "I asked Tom. Answer me, boy--where the hell is your mother?"

As if I'd been born for this moment, this chance to sting his pride--I was ready to pounce. I could tell from his expression he thought now Sarah might possibly be dead--as Granny had died when he was absent--and for a moment I hesitated before I went on, speaking harshly.

"Your wife's left you, Pa," I said, glaring at him. "She couldn't stand more grief and suffering after her baby was stillborn. Couldn't take this cabin and never having enough, with a husband who had to have his fun, while she had none. So she's gone, and she left you a note."

"I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!" he roared.

No one said anything, just stared at him, even Fanny.

Then it was Grandpa who found the strength to rise from his rocker and face his son. "Ya ain't got no wife now, son."

His voice seemed full of pity for this son who'd lost twice, and would no doubt lose all of his life, and it wouldn't be anybody's fault but his own. That was my mean thought on the night that Pa showed up after being gone almost a month.

"Yer Sarah packed up her thins an left in t'night," Grandpa concluded with great difficulty, for easy words had long ago departed.

"Somebody fetch her note," Pa whispered, as if he'd lost his strength now, and was suddenly as old as Grandpa.

Silently, with vicious pleasure, I stepped toward the highest shelf, where we placed our valuables that were so few, and from a chipped sugar bowl Granny had once told me Pa had bought new for his angel I took out the brief note, folded four times into a tiny hard wad.

"Read it t'me," ordered Pa, gone numb and strange-looking.

"Dear husband [I read],

"Can't stay no longer with a man who just don't care enough about anything. Going where it's better. Good luck and good-bye.

"Much as I loved ya, hate ya now.

Sarah"

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