“He’s not my young man, Grandpa. We’ve just been dating a little.”

“Oh?” He lifted his eyebrows. “When I was your age, seeing a girl as many times as he’s seen you meant marriage was just around the corner.”

“It did not. You could fill a zeppelin,” I said, which was how Grandma Arnold used to check him when he exaggerated. He laughed and fiddled with one of the silver balls that had yet to be hung. He looked at me to see if I approved of where he was placing it. I nodded.

“Okay, but don’t expect advice to the lovelorn from me,” he said. “I know more about trucks than I do about women. Trucks are less moody. Maybe Dorian can help there. I imagine she’d be more helpful about such things than Myra or My Faith.”

Since we were being so honest with each other all of a sudden, I grew brave. “You seem to know how to please Dorian,” I said, and held my breath. Would he growl back at me?

“She’s settled in a groove, just like me. We’re two of a kind,” he replied instead.

“Yes,” I said. I felt how he was studying me. He knew that at the start, I wasn’t fond of how quickly she had become part of our lives, but I didn’t have those feelings now. “You’re right. She’s very nice and more than just some private-duty nurse.”

“She is,” he agreed. I waited to see if he would add anything more, but he decided to change the subject. “I’m going to be really hungry tonight,” he said, slapping his hands together. “You’re having dinner here, right?”

“It’s Christmas tree dinner,” I said, and his smile deepened. Was it possible? Was it possible that happiness and love could return to this house?

“I’ll take a picture of this one,” he said when we had finished the decorating. “We’ll call this Clara Sue’s tree.”

“It’s our tree, Grandpa. You picked it out, didn’t you?”

He reached out to pu

t his arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer for one of his William Arnold hugs, practically lifting me off my feet and planting a kiss on the top of my head. Then he started out. “Got to get ready for dinner,” he said. “I’ll wear that Christmas shirt your grandmother bought me a while back.”

I turned off the electric trains and slowly followed him up the stairs. Count Piro’s door was open. I looked in, expecting to see Dorian, but instead, I saw only him in his wheelchair, his back to the door as he gazed out the window. I wondered what he was thinking. Was he regretting that he couldn’t be out there like Willie often was, maybe wearing his Superman cape and rushing about chasing imaginary villains? Or was he thinking about his lost family? Did he dream of going out our gate and home?

His shoulders were hoisted a little as if he had a cold breeze at the back of his neck. He was clutching the arms of his wheelchair like someone who was about to rise out of it and stand on his own. His arms were tightening, extending.

That’s exactly what he’s hoping to do, I thought. I watched and held my breath. He had his feet on the floor and was beginning to rise. Oh, do it, I thought. Stand on your own two feet, and begin your journey home.

He rose higher, his arms extending and tightening further. I heard him groan with the effort. He leaned forward as he rose, and then, when he was just about out of his chair and on his feet, he toppled over to the right and fell to the floor, collapsing as if his bones were only pipe cleaners. He moaned, but he didn’t cry. I rushed to him.

“Are you all right?” I asked, kneeling beside him and taking his right hand.

He gazed up at me. I saw no pain in his face, no physical pain. Instead, there was sorrow and loneliness, a look of desperate solitude, the look of someone chained to a wall, shut up in a room without windows, and confined to the sound of only his thoughts. Even his voice had disappeared. His lips moved ever so slightly, and then he whispered. I drew closer to hear him.

“Cathy,” I heard him say softly. “Momma.”

I put my arms under his and lifted him. It wasn’t difficult, because he was so light. As carefully as I could, I got him back into his chair. Should I run for Dorian? I wondered. She was probably in her room, maybe in the bathroom. Instead, I fixed his feet on the footrests of the wheelchair, brushed back his hair, and checked to see if he had bruised himself. He watched me silently. Then he turned to look out the window again.

I sat on the floor with my back to the wall and looked up at him. He didn’t look at me, and he didn’t cry. This is a special moment, I thought. Take advantage of it.

“Where do you want to go?” I asked.

When he looked at me, I thought for sure he was going to answer, but just then, Dorian returned.

“What’s happening?” she asked, smiling.

He turned to her as she approached.

“I was walking by, and I saw him try to get up and then fall out of the chair,” I said, rising. “I got him back on it and hung around to be sure he was all right.”

“Oh. Are you hurt, honey?” she asked him.

He shook his head.

She looked at me. “Very good, Clara Sue.”

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