Felix took my hand and we walked into the hospital and went directly to Grandmother Emma's room. Her priva

te nurse was standing outside her door talking to another nurse.

"Oh," she said when she saw me. "I didn't know you would be visiting your grandmother tonight. I would have brushed her hair and put her into one of her nicer nightgowns

"That's not important," I said. Even I thought I sounded like Grandmother Emma. "I'm not here for a party."

She recoiled as if I had tried to slap her face, and then she grimaced at Felix, who shrugged.

"Well, excuse me. You're right. This isn't a party. For anyone," she added.

Slowly. I entered Grandmother Emma's bedroom. There was only a small lamp lit next to her bed and she had her eyes closed. I quickly stepped up to her and touched her left hand. Her eyes opened and she looked at me. I thought she was smiling even though it was hard to tell because of the way her lips remained slightly twisted.

"Grandmother Emma, I just came from visiting Mama. A wonderful thing happened while I was talking to her. She squeezed my hand. She really did. She's going to get better and sooner than everyone thinks. I just know it. When she does, she'll be very upset if I'm not home. She won't want me to be living with Great-aunt Francis. You've got to change everything and make Daddy take care of me now. He can do it. I'll put up with Kimberly until Mama comes home and then you'll come home soon, too, and everything will be the way it was. Please," I said, and I waited to see what she would do.

She shook her head.

"But why, Grandmother? Why do you want me to live with your sister? You never see her, or hardly ever, and she never visited us, not once. Maybe she doesn't want me to live with her. It's not good to force her, is it? She'll resent me. She'll hate me. It will be horrible. Please, Grandmother."

Again, she shook her head.

I couldn't help crying now. Why was she being so stubborn and mean?

"You didn't send my letter to Ian," I said sharply. "I found it in your desk. You lied to me. You always told me not to lie. You always said it was important to do and say what was true no matter what,

"I don't want to go to Great-aunt Francis's house. I don't. I don't need someone else to hate me," I said firmly.

She stopped shaking her head and just looked at me. Then she raised her hand and made a gesture with it I didn't understand. I shook my head and she did it again and suddenly. I understood.

She wanted to write something.

I jumped up and ran out to her nurse, "My grandmother wants a pen and paper. She wants to write something to me."

"Write something?" She grimaced and looked at Felix, who shook his head. Then she shrugged and went to the desk to get me a pen and a pad.

As soon as she handed it to me. I ran back to Grandmother Emma. She pointed to the bed so I put the pad there and then I put the pen in her hand. It was very hard for her to write anything. I was so intrigued now that I couldn't move a muscle or complain as she struggled to create squiggly lines that made sense.

I waited and then, after what seemed to exhaust her, she stopped and closed her eyes.

Slowly. I turned the pad and read. It took me a moment to understand the letters because of the way they ran into each other.

But I finally did.

She had written, "Take care of Francis. She needs you more than I do, more than I ever could. She will never hate you."

I read it and reread it to be sure I understood what she was telling me.

How could the great-aunt I didn't know, and who didn't know me, need me more? How could any gown-up need me? Shouldn't it be the other way around? Surely, Grandmother Emma was confused because of her illness. I thought.

She opened her eves and gestured for the pen and paper again. Again. I waited as she scribbled, almost illegibly. I turned the paper around.

She had added, "Someday you'll know more about this family than your father does and you'll understand it all, even me."

Again. I was confused. How could I ever know more than my father knew about his own family? I wanted to ask her, but I could set she was exhausted, perhaps from the effort to write.

I folded that paper neatly and stuck it in my pocket. Somehow I knew it was the most important thing she had ever told me and maybe ever would. She smiled.

Then she closed her eyes.

Tags: V.C. Andrews Early Spring Horror
Source: readsnovelonline.net