uld never think of him as a dreamer. I thought he was voicing real plans. Someday soon, he would come walking into the house and announce that we had it. He would either have a bigger, more important, very high-paying executive position or have made a wise investment, and we would be very rich.
Why wouldn’t I think this about my father? Until now, he had never made a terribly foolish mistake. At least, as far as I knew.
So even though I had my suspicions, when Cathy and I came home from school today, the furthest thing from my mind was that Momma would tell us she was pregnant. Maybe I had snuffed out my suspicions because I didn’t want to believe them.
See? No matter what Cathy says about me, I am not Mr. Perfect, and I will admit when I make a mistake. I don’t need to go to a therapist to know why I snuffed out the truth that was as plain as day, and it’s not because of sibling rivalry. I’m far above that.
First, I don’t want to think my father is that careless, and second, I don’t want to see my mother worn down by caring for babies.
Just think of it. I am nearly ten, and Cathy is nearly eight. That’s a long time between children. Momma isn’t used to being up all night and changing diapers and doing feedings, and with Daddy’s travel schedule, he won’t be that much of a help.
What I know in my heart is that if Momma starts looking dragged out and sees her beauty being sacrificed, she will be one very, very unhappy woman.
Daddy cherishes his private time, too. He loves going with his friends to play tennis when he’s off or to play golf with his business associates. He doesn’t have all that much time off. There have been many weekends when his travel has taken him into Sundays, too. It’s not hard to imagine Momma telling him she is working seven days a week, so when he is free, he is going to have to lend more than just a helping hand now. He is going to have to give her free time to do her window-shopping or have lunch with her girlfriends, not to mention taking us shopping.
At this point in their lives, why did they decide to take on new children? I didn’t think they would have sexual accidents. I thought Daddy would be more careful, or if he wasn’t, my mother would certainly be. There is something going on here that I don’t know. Did Daddy promise our mother something if she would agree to have more children? Our lives are too cluttered with secrets, and I don’t like thinking that whatever they are, they are deliberately being kept from me.
I’m going to stop writing in the diary for a while. I’m afraid of the things I might write.
I think I might just be as upset and angry as Cathy is, and I don’t like it.
My cell phone rang. I hated the interruption, but I answered it because I knew she would keep calling.
“So?” Lana began. “How was your visit to the house of horrors?”
Funny, I had read only a small portion of the diary, but I was beginning to feel an attachment to Christopher and Cathy and to think of them as people I really had known. It was as if the diary was making us closer relatives. I suddenly didn’t like the idea of anyone thinking of them as sick, mad people doing horrid things to each other.
“It was just a pile of rubble, nothing remotely frightening about it. I think anyone who tells you they heard screams or cries or saw ghosts is crazy himself.”
“So it was a waste of time?”
“No. My father did what he had to do, and he’s helping to move the property off the bank rolls. He’ll get lots of work out of it.”
“I don’t mean your father. I mean you, dummy.”
“I went for a nice walk and saw the lake. It will be a very pretty property again. It’s actually very pretty now in a primitive, natural sort of way.”
“Boring,” she sang. “Kane was very disappointed, by the way. I told him I’d call you to see if you wanted to go to the movies. They’ll meet us there.”
“When?”
“Tonight, dummy. When else?”
“I can’t tonight. And if you call me ‘dummy’ one more time, I’ll tell everyone what you first thought a tampon was.”
“All right, all right. I’m sorry. So why not go to the movies tonight?”
“I have to do something very important for . . .”
“For who?”
“My family,” I said.
“What?”
“I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe we’ll do something during the day.”
“Are you serious? You’re going to blow us all off?”