Echoes of Dollanganger (5 page)

I was half-listening, anyway. I was thinking that I should call my father just to be sure he was going to be late for dinner and wouldn't arrive earlier than I expected and discover us in my room reading the diary. When we entered the house, I went right to the phone in the kitchen. Kane glanced at the stairway and looked at me expectantly.

“Go on up ahead of me and start,” I said. “I have to call my father.”

He shot up the stairs, taking two at a time, and turned to my room before I even entered the kitchen.

He really was into this, I thought, but that still wasn't making me feel confident about it now. I called my father.

“Hey, what's up?” he asked. “Anything wrong?”

“No. Just checking to be sure you will be late for dinner.”

“Yeah, sorry. I know you don't like to eat alone.”

“I might invite Kane,” I said. “You made enough for at least five people,” I added quickly.

“Oh, so he's there?”

“Yes. We're . . . doing homework together.”

“Sounds romantic. Should I be worried?” He hummed the shark theme again, just what I had been
anticipating when I thought about calling him from Kane's car.

“Dad! Stop!”

“Okay.”

“Is it all right to have him stay for dinner?”

“Absolutely. Later are you going to brag that your father won over your new boyfriend with his cooking?”

“No,” I said.

He laughed. “Enjoy,” he said, and shouted to someone just before he hung up.

I stood there for a moment thinking about it all and then walked slowly up the stairs. Kane was on my bed, his shoes off, the diary in his hands.

“You want to stay for dinner? My father's definitely going to be late,” I said.

“What's for dinner?”

“It's his meat loaf, my mashed potatoes, and string beans.”

“Sure. I love meat loaf,” he replied, and then returned to the diary as if his eyes were pulled to it beyond his control.

I put my books on my desk and, after looking at him again, began to attack my homework. Even though I glanced at him from time to time, neither of us spoke for a good hour or so. Finally, I heard him sigh deeply, and I turned and saw that he had sat up and was holding his hands over his face.

“What?” I asked.

“This was one bright kid, this Christopher
Dollanganger. He writes well, but he sounds like he's afraid of his own emotions, afraid that he's going to explode or something. I get the feeling he was walking around holding his breath most of the time, especially after they were brought to the mansion. And how about that grandmother? She'd give Norman Bates from
Psycho
nightmares. He's putting up with a lot more than I would, even at that age.”

“Yes. He's doing a great deal for his little brother and sister and for Cathy, and he has to keep the lid on.”

“I can't wait to see if he does. Cathy sounds more difficult than the twins.”

“She has a lot to be unhappy about, Kane. She's cut off from all her friends, everything that once made her life exciting, and look at the new responsibilities dropped on her. It wasn't fair.”

He nodded. “Makes sense. So you like her?”

“Why not? It's not her fault that they are where they are.”

“You sound very defensive. Maybe there's more Cathy in you than either of us knows.”

“What?”

He smiled and picked up the diary again.

“Are you going to catch up to me in one day?” I asked, sounding a bit annoyed now.

“You bet.”

“What about your homework?”

“I told you, I don't have that much, and besides, I'll do it when I get home.”

I looked at my watch. “I'm going down to start on dinner. We'll eat in about a half hour. I hope you can
tear yourself away. You're not bringing it to the dinner table,” I warned.

He didn't respond. He was already back into the diary so much that he didn't hear me. I paused in the doorway and looked at him, with the book up and his face blocked. I thought of Cathy, bored in that attic, looking at Christopher and seeing him deep in one of his science books, in his own world. That was probably his only escape, but it had to be frustrating for her. She had no one else to talk to but the twins.

I didn't know why exactly, but Kane's attraction to the diary was making me irritable. Anyone might think I was jealous of how passionate he had become about it. It was as though he appreciated it more than I did or something. I banged things around a bit more than necessary and mumbled under my breath as I set the table.

Kane came down exactly thirty minutes later. I turned, surprised.

“Wow! You could break away, after all.”

“Smelled the aroma and got hungry,” he said. “How can I help?”

“Take this jug of water to the table. Everything else is done,” I told him.

I began to bring in the food.

“It looks terrific,” he said.

I began to serve him. Then I served myself and sat.

“How did you like how their grandmother fed them?” he said. “It was like leaving crumbs out for birds. I think the servants knew what was going on, or at least one or two did.”

“Why?”

“Think about it. She's making food, putting together food, and taking it to them. She doesn't strike me as the sort of person who would slink about. If any of them saw her, she would tell them to buzz off.”

I hadn't thought about that. Maybe it was good to have someone else reading it at the same time after all.

I started eating and so did he. “This meat loaf is the best I've ever had,” he said.

“My father will be happy to hear it. I tried making it a few times, but it's never as good. He has little secrets he keeps even from me. He promises he'll reveal all when I get married.”

Kane paused and looked thoughtful again.

“What?”

“There were so many secrets going on in that mansion that it's a wonder it didn't explode before it burned down. What's really going on between Corrine and her parents? Christopher is limited in what he can write, so we might not discover that. He doesn't really know what's happening in the rest of the mansion. He's never even seen the grandfather. Who knows if the old goat is really that sick?”

“You think their mother deliberately lied about that? Why?”

“I don't know.” He was thoughtful for a few moments and then said, “The jury's not in on it, and maybe it will never be. As you said, we're getting it from Christopher only. Even with only what I've read until now, I can't imagine him ever calling his mother a liar. And not only because he's a respectful,
obedient kid. I'd like to read
her
diary. That would be a page-turner, I bet. We'd learn a lot more if we could compare.”

“I do have one other source of information,” I said.

He looked up sharply. “What? Your father?”

“No, especially not him. I told you, he doesn't like me reading it, and he doesn't like talking about it.”

“So?”

“It's my uncle Tommy, my father's younger brother. He met someone who claimed he had known a servant who worked at the original Foxworth Hall.”

“No kidding. And?”

“He said this man told him the servant claimed their grandfather knew they were up there.”

“See? Like I said, the servants probably saw the old hag carrying food and told the old man, or maybe he and the
Friday the Thirteenth
grandmother plotted together.” He thought a moment and then brightened and asked, “Did your uncle say Corrine knew that her father knew?”

“He didn't say, and back then, I didn't know enough to ask many questions. I wasn't old enough to appreciate the answers anyway, and because of how my father was about it, I didn't want to think about it.”

Kane sat back and nodded. “There's a lot to discover. I like mysteries. I'm not going home tonight until I catch up to you,” he declared.

“I want to emphasize that I don't want my father to know about this.”

“I wonder what's making him so uptight about it. Did you ever come right out and ask him?”

“No. And we're not going to ask,” I said firmly.

He smiled. “Don't worry about it. I don't want to get him even slightly mad at me.” I was about to smile, thinking he meant that would risk his being with me, but then he went for another forkful of meat loaf and added, “I might not get any more of his home cooking.”

I laughed. Maybe my father was right. Maybe I would win Kane through his cooking.

Kane skipped dessert so he could get back up to my room. He offered to clear the table and help in the kitchen, but I told him just to go back to the diary. He'd only rush and break something. He didn't need to be told twice.

While I was finishing up, my father came home. “Where's Kane?” he asked immediately when he entered the kitchen. “I see his car's still here.”

“Oh, he's up in my room doing homework.”

“Enjoy the dinner?”

“You have a devoted fan.”

“Didn't offer to help with the dishes?”

“He offered,” I said. “Let's just say he's not used to working in a kitchen, and like you always say, when someone who doesn't know what he's doing assists you, it makes for twice the work.”

“Not surprised he's unaccustomed to KP duty, but I'm surprised he left you alone. He could have at least watched. He's that into his homework?”

“He had more than I did tonight. We don't have
the same classes. How's everything at the building site?”
Get him talking about the project quickly,
I told myself. I hated coming up with all these white lies. I was with Huckleberry Finn. Why tell the truth and hurt someone?

“Usual bureaucratic delays with inspectors, but we're muddling through.”

I wiped my hands. “Everything's hot and ready for you. Go sit, and I'll bring it in.”

“I'm not ready yet. I want to shower and change first, baby. You better get back to that homework,” he added with a bit of an impish smile.

I threw the dish towel at him and hurried up the stairs.

“Break out your textbooks,” I warned Kane. “My father's here.”

He nodded and slipped the diary under my pillow. By the time my father knocked on the door, Kane was doing his math.

“Smells like a library in here,” my father joked when he saw us both into our textbooks.

“Hi, Mr. Masterwood. Fantastic meat loaf.”

“Thanks. Glad you enjoyed it. I'll get changed so I can eat it myself and see if you're giving me a false compliment,” my father said, and then he winked and left us.

Kane closed his textbook. “Gotta confession,” he said.

“What?”

“I caught up to you.”

“What? How could you?”

“You're not even half through it, you know, and I read fast when I'm really interested in what I'm reading.”

I nodded, thinking about how I did labor over some sentences and events, always trying to imagine how Cathy was feeling. “I guess so.”

“And I read another page before I realized it. I'll reread it tomorrow . . . aloud. Up in the attic,” he added, and closed his textbook. “I'd better get going. I forgot to call my mother to tell her I wasn't coming home for dinner,” he said. “Don't worry. I've done it before, and it's never a big shock, anyway. Tell your father good night for me.”

He gave me a very quick kiss on the cheek and a playful pat on the top of my head.

I was expecting him to kiss me before he left, but not like a brother.

*  *  *

I had been nervous while Kane was reading the diary to catch up with me, so I hadn't done my homework as quickly as I could. I had some left to complete. Nevertheless, I went down to sit with my father while he ate. He was surprised Kane had left so early.

“Maybe he really was here just to do homework,” he playfully suggested.

“Did the new owner come around again?” I asked, again looking to change the topic quickly.

“He did.”

I could see that he was into one of his deep thoughts again because of my question, a thought he wasn't eager to reveal to me.

“What?” I asked.

“You still reading that diary?”

I was surprised he asked. He had told me recently that he wouldn't inquire about it anymore and that when I was finished, he wanted me to give it back to him. I had the feeling he really would burn it, so I was debating whether I ever would give it to him.

“On and off,” I said, as nonchalantly as I could. The words almost got stuck in my throat.

“Has there been any mention of anyone else in the house? I mean other than their mother, grandmother, and grandfather?”

“Well, servants are mentioned but not by name,” I said.

“No one specifically, then?”

“Not yet as far as I have read. Why? Who do you think was there? Someone from town knew about them?”

“It's not important,” he said, and continued eating.

“If it wasn't important, you wouldn't mention it,” I said.

He shook his head. “I swear, Kristin, if I closed my eyes when you were talking sometimes, I'd think your mother was sitting there.”

Whenever he said anything like that, making comparisons between my mother and me to point out how much I was like her, I felt the struggle between two conflicting emotions, happiness and sadness. I loved the idea that I was anything like her, but just the reference to her stirred the well of tears that would forever be there, ready to rise and overflow before
I could do anything to stop them. If I cried in front of my father, he would cry all night, I thought, and turned away.

He didn't say anything else about it, and I didn't pursue it.
Don't bring up the diary
, I told myself.
In fact, don't bring up Foxworth Hall if you can help it until you and Kane are finished reading the diary.