Child of Darkness (18 page)

She left, closing the door softly behind her. It wasn't until that moment that I realized my heart had been pounding. Why was it so important to always look sexy for Basil? He was truly like the king of the manor.
I returned to my schoolwork, but I couldn't stop thinking about Trevor and wondering why he had called me so soon. Despite all the warnings Anti had given me about boys, I still felt it was simply impolite and ungracious to ignore his call. Ami had not taken down his telephone number to give to me. Perhaps he knew he didn't have to give it to her. I reached into my purse and took out his card. As I tapped out the numbers, I couldn't help feeling like I was doing something forbidden. He answered on the first ring.
"Trevor Foley," he said. "At your service."
"Hi. It's Celeste Atwell."
"Hey. How are you doing? Recuperating from the first day in the pits?"
"The Dickinson School would hardly qualify as the pits," I said, laughing. "You haven't ever attended a public school?"
"No, I went right from preschool to a private elementary school. I spent summers at a camp designed to turn us into preppy little men. Do I seem preppy to you?"
"I don't know what that means."
"Yeah, well, you're better off not knowing. Anyway, I called to see if you would like to attend a party with me this weekend. It will be a good opportunity to get to know some of the other students. Waverly is having a birthday party for himself."
"He's making a party for himself?"
"No one else will, including his parents. They believe birthday parties end after the age of five. Fortunately for us, and unfortunately for them, they are taking his ten-year-old sister to an audition for child television positions in New York City, and Waverly resisted going along. Since it's his birthday, they granted him his wish."
"They're leaving him on his birthday?"
"Like I said, they don't carry on much about birthdays, but we will. You'll have a great time. Can I pick you up about eight?"
"I'd like to go. I really would, but I can't," I said. "My . . . cousin has asked me not to socialize until I've settled into life here."
"How long does it take you to settle in?"
"Not long. I hope," I added.
"What a bummer. So until then, you have to sit at home with the cousin watching television or something?"
"I'm sure my cousin has activities planned for me."
"Activities? What are you, in a camp or a home?" he asked, making no attempt to hide his disappointment.
"I'm sorry. I'm at a. . . a disadvantage."
"Yeah," he said, and was silent. In a moment he calmed down, however. "I suppose you are. I don't mean to sound like such a dork about it."
"They're being very generous. My cousin arranged for me to have formal driving lessons. I had my first one today."
"You mean you've never driven a car?"
I bit my lower lip. Already I was putting my foot in my mouth. One lie always led to another, and as if you were weaving a web around yourself, you were suddenly trapped in deceptions of your own making. I had never strayed from the truth before I came here to live, I thought. I was never afraid of it.
"No. My mother is a very nervous person," I told him, quickly thinking of a way out.
"I'll say she is. Maybe you're better off living with your cousin."
"I hope so. I mean, they're nice people, and they have so much."
"Yeah, I know the company. Actually, the Emersons bought all their cars from my father's dealerships. If you need extra driving lessons, I'd be happy to give them to you," he added.
"For now I had better stick with the formal ones."
"Right," he said. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yes. And Trevor. . ."
"Yes?"
"At the risk of endangering myself with the incrowd, thanks for thinking of me."
He laughed.
"Drop the past tense," he said. "I am thinking of you. See ya."
I held the receiver to my ear for a few moments longer, like someone who wanted the taste of something wonderful to last as long as possible. I had no way to judge, of course. Ami was right about my inexperience, but my instincts were telling me not to be afraid of Trevor, that there was an underlying goodness about him, and he wasn't simply looking at me as he would look at one more conquest.
It was surely times like this when I missed Noble the most, missed the sound of his voice in my mind, the sight of his spiritual being. Had I drifted too far from him, from them all, from my past, from my family? Would I never touch or hear them again?
"All children," my psychologist Dr. Sackett had told me, "have their imaginary, innocent world, and then they grow out of it. I suppose we always mourn the loss of childhood faiths, of that willingness to believe in something more, but it's how we were meant to be in order to function in the adult world," he said.
For me, it was too great a sacrifice and loss, I thought. And yet I was afraid to work hard at regaining it. I was afraid of being considered as crazy as my mother and my family. I was afraid of being stigmatized and forever branded weird. Where would I go under those conditions, and whom would I love and who would love me? How could I find a compromise, hold on to the wonder I once knew and enjoyed, and yet live among those who never had and never could?
I'm tired of being lonely, I thought. I'm tired of being shut up in one world or another. Gazing around at all that I now had and would have, I wondered if I was willing to wait. Trevor's soft dark eyes called to me.
I wanted so much to answer.
For now, I had to still my inner voices, keep my heart from beating too fast and too hard, and pretend I didn't yet care.
With all this turmoil spinning in my brain, I had a hard time getting back to my homework, but I managed. In fact, I was so involved in my studies, I lost track of time. Ami was shocked to see me still sitting at my desk.
"What are you doing? You have to get dressed! It's not something a woman does in ten minutes. We don't shave a little and splash on some scented lotion, put on a shirt and pants, and run out brushing our hair. Preparations, preparations, preparations, are so important, Celeste. I thought I had taught you that already."
"I'm sorry. I just got involved in my
schoolwork. I'll get dressed quickly."
"I'm not asking you to do it quickly. I'm asking you to do it perfectly," she said. "Don't be such a student," she warned, nodding at my books. "You'll miss out on the important things. I'll be back in a half hour." She glanced at her watch. "Actually, it's all right for us to be a little later than ever. I'm still mad at Wade for opening his mouth to me about not getting you to school this morning," she said, and left.
I started to dress immediately, again wondering why it was always so important to look sexy and attractive for Wade's father. When I had finished and went to her room, Anti was surprised at how quickly I had gotten myself together. I stood there waiting for her to criticize something, but she smiled and nodded at me instead.
"Very nice. You look terrific, Celeste. I'm proud of how quickly you've picked up on everything. You've done a wonderful job on your lips and eyes." She tilted her head. "You're not lying to me, are you? You didn't do all these things before you arrived here?"
"Hardly," I said, smiling.
"Well. It doesn't matter." She sprang to her feet. "What matters is, we look fantastic once again. Wade's already called to see where we are. He says his father is drinking too much too fast. He needs me, you see. Next time he won't be so quick to pick up the phone to chastise me for something. Take note. These are little lessons you'll appreciate when you finally settle down with your own Wade," she said, and hooked her arm through mine.
My own Wade? Whomever I fell in love with and married, I thought, I hoped our relationship would be far better. Was that a silly dream? Were all marriages eventually the same, with two people eventually finding ways to tolerate each other, rather than hold on to something magical and special?
"You're teasing me," Basil Emerson accused the moment we entered the dining room. He pointed his thick, long forefinger at Ami, and his expression of anger actually nailed my feet to the floor for a moment and stole my breath. His eyes were blazing.
Wade had his head down and his hands clasped like some penitent hoping for mercy. I saw the full glass of whiskey in front of Basil on the table.
"Moi?" Ami said, pretending grand innocence. "How so, Basil?"
"Keeping us waiting like this. You know what they call women who do that, don't you?" he asked, and then he smiled, reached for his glass, and took a drink. "Women who tease?"
"We just can't rush our preparations, Basil," Ami said, leading me to the table. "Imagine if someone tried to rush Renoir or da Vinci."
Basil roared with laughter, and Wade looked up. "You're comparing putting on makeup to a worldclass artist?" he asked.
"Yes," Ami said without hesitation. "Basil, am I right?"
"You're always right in my book, Ami," he said. "Now look at you," he said, turning to me. "Every time I see you, Miss Unfortunate, I am more and more confused. How could you have been passed up all these years?"
"The people coming to the orphanages weren't looking for concubines, Dad," Wade muttered.
"Conk you what?"
"They're looking for needy children, children they could help find family lives," Wade explained. "Not lovers and mistresses and the like."
Basil pulled the corners of his mouth in and shook his head.
"You ever relax, Wade? You ever crack a joke with the crew at the plant? Sometimes I wonder if I had anything to do with your birth at all."
"I often do too, Dad."
Basil stared a moment. I thought he was going to blast Wade with his anger, maybe even strike him, but instead his face collapsed into a smile, and then he roared with laughter again.
"That's good. Now there's a good joke. Imagining Jeanie Emerson having an affair and getting pregnant. Why, that woman was so modest, she wouldn't even undress in front of me, and I'm talking about after twenty years of marriage. We had to make love with the lights out, for crissakes. Come to think of it, we made you in the dark, Wade. Maybe that was the problem, huh, Ami? What do you think? Is it easier or better to make love with the lights on or off?"
"Can we talk about something else?" Wade pleaded.
"Yeah, we can talk about something else," Basil said, waving his glass at Ami. "We can talk about when I'm going to have a grandchild, made in the dark or in the light."
It was as though lightning had streaked through the room, just over our heads, singeing our brains and thundering in our ears. Both Wade and Ami froze.
"Aaah, forget about it. Let's just enjoy a good dinner, a good Irish dinner," Basil shouted, and Mrs. Cukor appeared with Mrs. McAlister behind her, bringing in the food.
It was all delicious, but the tension at the table made it hard to enjoy. Wade tried to turn the conversation to my first day at school, but his father went into a rant about wasting money on spoiled children.
"A girl with her looks don't need to worry about fancy schools," he declared. He smiled at me, intending it to be a compliment, but I didn't see it that way, and neither did Ami. She went into a lecture about women's rights and a woman's place in the business and professional world.
The tips of Basil's ears grew redder and redder, either from the combination of wine and whiskey or from Ann's snappy criticism of male chauvinists. Wade was quiet most of the time. By the end of the dinner, everyone was quiet, however, and a heavy atmosphere pressed down on us all. Basil made some excuses about having to leave early.
"I got something to do early tomorrow," he said, "so I can't stay over tonight."
When he kissed Anil good night, he put his hand around her waist and dropped it to her rear. She grabbed his forearm and turned him away quickly, but I caught the whole scene. If Wade saw it, he pretended he didn't.
Basil then turned to say good night to me, but when he stepped toward me, I thrust out my hand. He looked at it as if I had a knife in it and then at me and smiled.
"I see why Ami's taken to you so quickly," he muttered, shook my hand slightly, and then left.
"Let's go for a ride," Ami said immediately. "I need some fresh air."
"But I have so much homework," I pleaded.
I saw how disappointed she was, but I didn't know what to do. Wade came to my rescue.
"Where are you going this time of night, anyway? And besides, you've enrolled her in an expensive school. Why waste the opportunity for her?"
Ami pouted, and I excused myself to go back to my room. As I started for the stairway, Mrs. Cukor appeared as if she had been waiting in the wings for me.
"Darkness is falling on this house," she warned. "You know it is, too."
"I don't know anything about any darkness," I shot back at her. "I don't know who or what you think I am, but I'm getting tired of being treated like something evil."
"You're the snake in the Garden of Eden," she muttered, not retreating.
"This was hardly the Garden of Eden before I arrived, Mrs. Cukor, and for all I know, you might be the snake."
That took her back.
She brought her hand to the base of her throat.
I am my mother's child, I thought. I will not cower before anyone. I stepped toward her.
"Beware of the darkness that is in your own heart," I said, and left her standing like a statue at the foot of the stairway.
My heart was pounding, but I felt stronger.
Maybe you're not showing yourself anymore, Noble, I thought, but you're inside me. You're inside my heart. And from that place, you will never escape.
Until I am able to let you go.

There was a knock on my door hours later. Before I could say, "Come in," Ami entered, dressed in her nightgown. She still wore all her makeup. However, her hair looked like she had been running her fingers through it madly.

"I'm sorry about tonight," she said, pacing in front of me. "Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to leave Basil waiting and drinking so long. We'll remember next time. He can be terribly obnoxious." She paused to look at me. "Were you very upset with him? Did he hurt your feelings?"

"No, it's all right," I said, but on the subject of hurting my feelings, I wondered if I should mention anything about my confrontation with Mrs. Cukor. I quickly decided enough was enough for one night, and I was getting tired. I had done a great deal of reading and note taking and had written a short essay for my writing class.

"Look at you," Ami said, perusing my desk and seeing the opened books and papers. "You really are quite the student, aren't you?"