Broken Flower by V. C. Andrews
"Oh, really. How old are you?"
"I'm sixteen," Ian said, which was another bold lie.
She looked at me and held her smile. "And this is your sister?"
"Jordan, yes. She knows she has to behave and we promise not to disturb anyone or anything you're doing. Is our mother in a vegetative state or is she still comatose?"
"Are you sure your sister understands all this?" she asked, showing her concern for me.
"She'll understand," Ian promised.
Mrs. Feinberg turned to me. "Your mother's eyes are open, honey, but she doesn't see yet. Don't be frightened or surprised about that, okay?"
"She won't be," Ian insisted. "She's seen her before, soon after the accident."
"It's always difficult to understand how someone can open and close his or her eyes, even move and make noises, but show no sign of awareness."
"We understand," he said. "I explained all that to her on the way here."
He hadn't, but I was afraid to say a word, even utter a sound.
She thought a moment and then she told us to follow her. We entered a room where Mama lay on the bed staring up at the ceiling. I saw her left hand open and close, open and close. She's moving, I thought. How wonderful. I wanted to shout for her, cry out immediately. I hurried to her side and put my hand into hers. She closed on it and then opened, closed and opened.
"Talk to her, honey," Mrs. Feinberg said. "Hi, Mama. It's me. Jordan. Ian is here, too.'
We watched her head, but she didn't turn toward me. Her eyes closed and then opened. "How long does it take to evaluate her?" Ian asked.
"It could be a while. She's in our
Responsiveness Program we can work on her response to stimuli. Just keep talking to her, honey. You never know when a patient will start to respond, but it's good they hear familiar voices."
"If they hear," Ian muttered.
"I'll be back in a little while," Mrs. Feinberg said. "Mama, please talk to us," I pleaded. I pressed my face against her shoulder and then I kissed her cheek. "We need you to come home."
She didn't respond. Her mouth didn't move. Her eyes didn't turn to me and her hand kept opening and closing on mine.
"When will she hear me, Ian? When? Why can't she hear me?"
"It's difficult to know, Jordan. She might hear you--the nurse is right. But she might not be able to respond yet. Don't cry," he warned me in a loud whisper. "They might get nervous about us being in here."
"I can't help it," I wailed.
"You've got to help it, Jordan. See. That's why I wasn't sure I should bring you with me."
"Okay, okay," I said, sucking hard on my breath and squeezing myself to smother my sobs. "I won't cry,"
"Just talk to her. Tell her whatever you want. Go on," he said, and then he wandered about the room, looking at all the medical equipment as though he really knew what everything was.
I started to tell Mama about Grandmother Emma bringing Miss Harper into the house to take care of us, to teach me during the summer. Then I thought if I told her the terrible things Miss Harper had done to me. Mama might make herself wake up. I saw even Ian considered that possibility because he watched Mama's face closely as I described Miss Harper washing out my mouth with soap, locking me in my room, slapping my face, and making me work on school stuff all day.
"She slapped you?" Ian asked. I hadn't told him about that.
"Yes."
"Tell me if she as much as threatens to do it again," he said with visible anger. Sometimes, when he got that angry, his whole body seemed to tremble like a mountain during an earthquake or something. I continued to talk to Mama, describing the schoolwork, and then I remembered to tell her about Grandmother Emma moving me to Daddy's old bedroom and moving Miss Harper into her and Daddy's bedroom. I thought that would surely get her upset enough to come back to us quicker.
However, nothing worked. Mama continued to blink, to open and close her hand, but she didn't turn her head or smile. She did make what sounded like a small cry and that perked Ian's interest for a moment, but the sound stopped. I shook her hand and began to plead with her to wake up.
"That won't help, Jordan," Ian said. "We're just going to have to wait."
He hadn't yet touched Mama or kissed her, but now he approached the bed and did take her hand into his, looking down at it. That hand wasn't moving. He moved her fingers and then he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. I watched him closely, awed by his emotional expression. He brushed back Mama's hair and then took a deep breath.
"We're just going to have to wait," he said, this time more to himself than to me.
Suddenly, Mrs. Feinberg returned. Her steps and speed turned us both to look at her.
"Well now, young man. I just happened to get off the phone with your grandmother," she said, and I knew we were in very bad trouble.
I also knew that no one could move as quickly and as decisively as my grandmother Emma. Apparently, the moment she ended her conversation with the nurse, she had a talk with the hospital's security. Two uniformed men were outside in the hallway even before we learned what Grandmother Emma had told Mrs. Feinberg.
"You ran away from home this morning," Mrs. Feinberg said, and turned to Ian. "You took your seven-year-old sister to the city without permission, and you lied to me, young man. You said your grandmother sent you two in a limousine."
"She should have," Ian responded, undaunted. "You're not sixteen, either. You're just thirteen." "Chronological age isn't what's important," he said dryly. "It's mental age."
"Whatever, it's not right to lie and to sneak around, especially with a child this young."
"She's with me. She's fine," Ian said. The nurse couldn't get him to be repentant or even be slightly afraid.
"That's a great deal of responsibility to take at your age, especially without permission and especially with your family having so many troubles," Mrs. Feinberg insisted. "I have grandchildren not much older than you are and it would be troublesome to me."
"I don't believe it's any of your business," Ian said, finally showing some emotion. I knew how much he hated being thought of as a little boy or in any way irresponsible.
Mrs. Feinberg reacted instantly. He could have just as well stuck a pin in her. She drew to attention like a military officer, dropped any softness out of her face and eyes, and stepped up to him with her hands on her hips, her bosom out like the front of a bumper car in the amusement park. I thought she was actually going to knock him back with her breasts. Ian didn't flinch or retreat an inch.
"You will be escorted out of here by the hospital's security and taken to a room where you will sit and wait for your grandmother or her
representative to fetch you two, and you will not go anywhere else or tell anyone else any more lies, is that clear?"
She glanced at Mama.
"You should be ashamed of yourself, absolutely ashamed, coming here like this."
"Before you spoke with my grandmother," Ian said, his voice still firm, "you thought it was a very good idea for us to be here and talk to our mother. You know the value in that. I am not ashamed that we did this."
She turned a bit red. "Y ..yes, that is a good idea but only if it's done properly and everyone knows where you are, young man. You don't go off with your little sister like this. Now march yourselves out of here," she said when the two security men stepped up in the doorway.
I looked at Mama and then I squeezed her hand firmly. "Mama!" I cried. "Please wake up!"
Mrs. Feinberg put her arm around my shoulders and turned to me.
"Don't touch her," Ian said. He had
Grandmother Emma's snap in his voice.
Mrs. Feinberg glared at him.
"Get your hands off my sister," he said in an even sharper tone. She looked at the security guards, who now stepped into the room.
Ian reached for my hand and I took his quickly and pulled out of Mrs. Feinberg's grip. Then he looked back at Mama.
"We'll be back. Mother," he
The guards directed us down the corridor to a room that was usually reserved as a lounge for the nurses. They told us to sit and wait and not make any more trouble. They shut the door. I had to go to the bathroom and whispered it to Ian, who then rose. knocked on the door, and told the security guard. He made me wait until a nurse came back to the room to escort me.
"What about you?" the security guard asked Ian.
"Not at the moment," Ian told him.
"Fine," the security guard said, and closed the door.
The nurse stood by the bathroom door and waited for me like a security guard herself. Why was it that everywhere we were since Mama and Daddy's accident we seemed to be easily locked away? Afterward, while Ian fidgeted and read every magazine in the room. I fell asleep on the sofa waiting. I woke when the door was opened again. Miss Harper stood there looking in at us. She glared at Ian, her eyes blazing, and then looked at me before entering and closing the door softly behind her. "Have you any idea, any idea at all, what you two have put your grandmother and me through? Do you have any idea of the panic, the embarrassment?" "I have an idea of the embarrassment, maybe," Ian said, "but not the panic."
"Don't you be smart with me, young man," she said, moving toward him. "Don't you dare show your disrespect and insolence."
Ian shrugged. "Then don't ask me any questions that require truthful responses,'" he said.
Her cheeks reddened as though they had been slapped. "Get up, both of you. You'll walk out of here and go with me immediately to the limousine." "My grandmother didn't come?" Ian asked. I was wondering the same thing.
"She had to go to the hospital to see about your father. In the middle of this terrible family crisis, you do this sort of stupid thing."
"It wasn't stupid," Ian said.
"A number of people," she began, "have done favors for your grandmother to get your mother into this wonderful treatment center under the care of the finest specialists. Because of your grandmother, the head of the Responsiveness Program himself has taken a personal interest in your mother. You can't imagine how embarrassed your grandmother was by what you've done and how badly this reflects on your family."
I glanced at Ian, who just stared at the wall. "I will not blame your sister, Ian. She's too young to know what she's doing, but you are far too intelligent and mature not to have known and understood."
'Of course, I know and understand,'" he said, turning back to her. "We were doing a good thing, a thing we should have been brought to do
immediately:'
"I don't care to discuss it any further with you. Now march," she said, pointing at the door. Go on!" she added sternly when Ian didn't move.
He rose like an old man and nodded to me. We started out. We walked out ahead of her. The nurses watched us leaving and the hospital security guard followed right behind Miss Harper.
Outside, Felix leaned against the limousine with his arms folded watching us approach. He looked a little amused by what we had done. Then his eyes went to Miss Harper and he moved instantly to open the door for us and step back. Ian and I got in and she followed, sitting across from us. She just stared at the two of us as if she had to convince herself we were really there and that it was all true.
What. I wondered, would life be like for us at the March Mansion now?
23 Juvenile Criminals
. It didn't take long to find out. Almost as soon as we started back to the March Mansion, Miss Harper began.
"When we get home. Ian, you are to go directly to your room and remain there until further notice." She smiled coolly. 'You will discover that your room has been emptied somewhat."
"What does that mean?" Ian asked immediately. "All of your scientific equipment, your microscope, your telescope, the ant farm, books, magazines have been removed."
"Removed? Where are they?" She didn't reply.
"You can't do that," Ian said. "That stuff belongs to me, not you."
She smiled. "Nothing belongs to you, Ian. Everything you have was bought for you using your grandmother's money, even the clothing on your back you now wear. I know a lot more about your family than you think, and your grandmother approves of everything I have done and decided. She is so distraught, in fact, she doesn't even want to know about it. When she found out what you did, she was nearly in tears."
"I don't believe you," Ian said.
"Whether you believe me or not isn't important to me, Ian. However, I wouldn't bother appealing to her, if I were you. She is in no mood to hear either of you whine, especially you."
"I don't whine,'" Ian said.
"It won't do you any good if you do," she said. Then she turned to me. "While it's true you're too young to be fully at fault. Jordan, you still bear some responsibility here. You should not have gone with your brother. You should have come right to me to tell me what he wanted you to do."
"She would never go to you to rat on me," Ian said.
"Perhaps so. She has misplaced loyalties and responsibilities. However," she said, looking at me, "you, too, shall remain in your room until told otherwise.
"And as for you, young man," she said, turning back to Ian, "if you disobey me this time, even in the slightest way. I'll see to it that your grandmother sends you not to a military school, but a behavioral school at which you will have no rights, not be able to communicate with anyone, and certainly not have any of your things ever. Just so you know, she already asked me for some recommendations and I have given them to her to consider." She sat back.
Ian stared out the window. I had no idea why I wasn't crying. I think I was just too much in shock, my tears stuck under my lids.
"In time," she said in a slightly softer tone, "I will reconsider everything if you're good, and we'll see if we can rescue any of this summer for either of you."
Ian stared at her with his eyes so firm and fixed, she finally had to look away.
"I know you slapped her, you know," he said.
"Pardon?'"
"I know you slapped Jordan and you washed her mouth out with soap."
"Really? Did you tell him what you said. Jordan, to deserve that?"
I pressed my lips together.
"That's good. I don't want to hear it. I just wanted to see if you would repeat it. Obviously," she said, turning to Ian, "she's learned her lesson. You can thank me for that"
Ian shook his head. "You couldn't do any of this if my mother was well," he told her.
"Yes, well, your behavior and your sister's behavior aren't going to help that situation at all. The more time your grandmother has to spend worrying about the misbehavior you two commit, the less time she can spend on seeing that your mother gets the best treatment possible.
"That," she added, "is why she needs me to be with you and with her. She has complete faith in me. I hope you won't force me to be any more severe than I have to be. Because," she concluded, "you should make no mistake about it--I can be."
We rode in silence the rest of the trip home. As soon as we arrived. Ian shot out of the limousine and into the house to see if she had indeed done what she had said she had done. By the time we had walked in and up the stairway, he had made his discoveries and stepped into the hallway.
"Where are my things?" he demanded.
"Get back into your room," she replied. She pointed to his door.
"I want to know where my things are!" he shouted. I had never seen him this angry with his face this flushed.
"You're not starting out on a good foot," she said. "I'm warning you. I'm moments away from calling your grandmother, who is dealing with another crisis at the moment and has no time for tantrums."
"What other crisis?"
She was quiet. I looked up at her and she glanced at me.
"Your father," she said, "tried to kill himself once he was told the full extent of his injuries."
"I don't believe you," Ian said, but his voice quivered. I could see he wasn't confident.
"It doesn't matter what you do or do not believe,"
"How could he do that? He's paralyzed from the waist down."
"He used a knife with a serrated edge to cut his wrists and bled considerably before anyone
discovered it," she said bluntly.
Ian looked at me. He knew I understood how that could happen. He had once told me how close I had come to doing something like that to myself accidentally.
"Your grandmother is busy arranging for psychotherapy and getting him moved to where he will have twenty-four-hour observation. Now, are you satisfied you made me tell you all that in front of your little sister?"
"You enjoyed telling us," Ian said, but he was deflated. He turned and with his head lowered, walked back to his room.
She followed him to close his door and I followed her. I had a chance to glance in before she closed it. Everything in his room but his bed was gone, even his desk, where he sat to write his notes and create his studies. I had a glimpse of his bookshelves, too. They were bare.
She slammed the door and spun on me. "Get to your room. You're never to come down here. Go on!" she said, pointing and I hurried away. She trailed behind me. I expected she was going to shut my door again, and probably lock it, too, because she could, but she didn't. She followed me into my room instead.
"Sit," she said, pointing to the settee.
I did so quickly and she approached, folded her arms under her small bosom, and peered down at me. "Did he touch you?" she demanded.
"What?"
"When he took you out of here, did he touch you?"
What did she mean? He had held my hand, guided me by putting his hand on my shoulder. Should I say yes? I didn't know what to say.
She brought a chair to the settee and sat in front of me. "Let me explain this to you, Jordan. Your grandmother hired me after she discovered what Ian was doing to you in your room. She was and is very concerned about that. It's not normal for a brother to do such things with a sister. It's not normal for him to do it with any girl, for that matter. You're too young to understand all this. It's all happening to you much too quickly," she said.