Cloudburst by V. C. Andrews
“Ryder Garfield?” the one on my right asked.
“What’s this?” Ryder asked.
“You’ve been reported as a missing person,” the other patrolman said, moving in quickly.
“What? Who reported me?”
“Your parents,” the first patrolman replied. “We’d like to make this easy. You’re under eighteen. You’re coming with us either voluntarily or otherwise. Considering who your parents are, we recommend it be voluntarily.”
“This is bullshit. I’m not missing. I’ll go home when I’m good and ready to.”
“That’s a bad choice, son,” the second patrolman said, and moved in on Ryder.
“DON’T!” I cried.
Ryder tried to resist, but the second patrolman was on him as well, and in moments, they had his hands behind his back and his wrists cuffed. I pressed my fist against my mouth to contain another scream. Tears filled my eyes when Ryder looked at me with a desperate expression of helplessness.
“Let’s go, son,” the first patrolman said. They practically lifted him to move him forward.
I followed them out the door. When they reached the stairway, another motel guest was coming up. He moved quickly to get by them. Ryder looked back at me. He shook his head. Did he think this was somehow my fault?
“Ryder!” I called, but they moved him quickly down the stairs. I ran after them.
Their patrol car was just at the foot of the stairway. Ryder could see that there was no point in resisting. Before I could say another word to him, they stuffed him into the rear of the car. He seemed to collapse in there. I stood watching as they drove off. He never looked back.
I felt my legs soften beneath me and sat hard on the first step.
It was as if some invisible evil spirit had put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me down.
I felt as helpless as I had been walking behind my mother in the darkness on the beach, looking for the safety of a home.
16
A Ruined Weekend
I was still sitting on the step when Kiera drove into the motel parking lot. She got out slowly and stopped when she saw me. I imagined she couldn’t believe her eyes. I saw her look about with confusion. Ryder’s car was still in the parking space he had taken. She raised her hands to ask what was happening. When I didn’t respond, she started toward me.
“What’s going on? Where’s Ryder?”
“His parents called the police. They came to the suite and put him in handcuffs and dragged him off.”
“Handcuffs?”
“They said he was considered a missing person, and because he was only seventeen, they could do it.”
“Bummer,” she said.
“It was horrible.”
“Well, there’s nothing you can do about it now. Let’s go upstairs and get ready to go out. We can still have a good time.”
“What? Didn’t you hear what I said? They put him in a police car like some sort of criminal and dragged him away.”
“I heard you, Sasha. So what are you going to do, mope in the room all weekend?”
I looked up at her. She turned away for a few moments and then turned back to me.
“They’ll take him home. That’s all. He’s not going to jail or anything. Famous movie stars can get the police to do lots of things for them to cover up their family problems. It’s the way it is. Maybe he’ll run away again and call you from someplace else.”
“You didn’t see his face. He was devastated. I’m worried for him.”
“So distract yourself, otherwise you’ll go nuts,” she said. She started up the stairs.
I stood up. Something occurred to me.
“How did they find him so fast?” I asked. She paused. “I mean, they came right to the door.”
She started to turn away and then smiled. “You’re the valedictorian, not me, but it seems quite simple.”
“How?”
“The school most likely called his parents to tell him he was missing. They called my mother or my father, and they told them where you had gone. So they put two and two together, and voilà.”
She started up again.
“But you didn’t tell your parents we were staying here. You told me not to say anything and that your roommates would cover for us if they called,” I reminded her.
She kept walking up the stairway. I sped up and caught up to her in the hallway. I grabbed her arm and spun her around.
“Kiera!”
“Relax. One of my roommates obviously broke down and told,” she said. “I’ll find out who it was and break her neck. Although I probably can’t blame her. I’m sure my mother was hysterical on the phone.”
I thought for a moment and then hurried into the suite to get my cell phone. I saw there was a message on it. Kiera came in behind me. I held it up.
“I have a call from your mother.”
“I’ll talk to her and explain that it was my idea to come here.”
“That’s not the point,” I said. “They thought I was listening to them and avoiding Ryder. Now they’ll know I lied.”
“Join the club.”
“I don’t belong in that club,” I said, moving toward my things. “I think I’ll just head back.”
“What? Don’t be stupid. I’ve been through many things like this with them. They’ll get over it.”
“Yes, but I won’t,” I said, gathering my things.
She stood there with her hands on her hips, her eyes widening with rage. “You’re actually going to leave me here alone after I planned this whole thing out, went through all this trouble for you?”
“I won’t be any fun to have with you, Kiera. I can’t help it. Sorry.”
“Great,” she said, and went into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
“Kiera, don’t be like that,” I said. I waited, but she didn’t respond.
Despite her tantrum, I couldn’t change my mind. My body felt as if there were at least a half-dozen fuses all lit inside. If I was going to explode somewhere, I’d rather it be at home.
“I’ll call you,” I said, and headed out. Seeing Ryder’s car still parked there brought tears to my eyes. How horrible it had to be for him to be driven all the way home in a police car and with his hands cuffed behind him like some common criminal. How could his parents do this to him?
I got into my car and started out of the parking lot. When I looked back and up, I saw Kiera on the small balcony. She had another glass of vodka and orange juice in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She wasn’t looking at me. She was looking out at the mountains in the distance. I wondered if she would stay there or return to her dorm.
It took me much longer to get back into Los Angeles. I hit all sorts of traffic. At one point, there was a backup because of an accident. I wasn’t really hungry despite eating little or nothing all day, but when I had a chance to turn off for gasoline, I bought myself a cereal bar and some water. I started to call Jordan again a number of times but thought it was better just to arrive. However, it was getting late, and when I was about an hour away, I did call.
“Where are you?” she asked immediately.
“Only an hour away.”
“Donald is very upset. I’m very disappointed.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll explain when I get there. Did Kiera call you?”
“No. I think she called Donald,” she said, “but I don’t remember the time. Drive carefully,” she added. Her voice was so small and distant that she sounded thousands of miles away. Before I could say anything else, she hung up.
It took me nearly an hour and a half to arrive at the front gate. I had been so tense the whole time that it was a wonder I didn’t get into an accident. This wasn’t going to be very pleasant for any of us.
I wasn’t happy about defying their wishes, even though I felt justified. Since Kiera had left for college, I had done everything they asked of me. Although I wanted to succeed in school to please myself and for my mother’s memory, I was also aware of how well
I was aware of how hard Jordan tried to be more than a foster mother to me. I wouldn’t deny that there were many times when the three of us went out to dinner or when they had guests for dinner and I was present that I felt almost like their natural child. I wanted to feel like family. I did the best I could to overcome all that made me hesitate or feel guilty about accepting them.
But I knew that this was going to make things different. Whether Donald was sincere about not wanting me to turn out like his daughter or whether it was just a matter of his ego, I expected that his disappointment was going to have dire consequences for me. It was very possible that he would carry through with a threat and throw me out of the March house. If anything, he would now hammer home to Jordan how smart he was not to have legally adopted me.
I parked and went to the front door, pausing to catch my breath. It seemed like yesterday when I had stood there with Ryder and taken the same deep breath that made him say I looked as if I was about to go underwater. I certainly felt I was doing that right now.
No one was standing there when I entered. The house was ominously quiet and dimly lit. I waited for a moment to see if either Jordan or Donald would come charging out of a room, or even Mrs. Duval might appear, but no one did. Practically tiptoeing down the hallway, I stopped to glance into the sitting room on my right. At first, I saw no one, and I was about to turn to head for the stairway when I heard Donald say my name.
I looked again and saw him sitting under an unlit lamp. With only the reflection of another smaller light across the room illuminating him, he looked like a shadow shaped like a man. He reached up and turned on the lamp. I saw that he was sitting there with a drink in his hand. The sight of him so quiet and so dark frightened me. I didn’t move.
“Please come in, Sasha,” he said.
I entered slowly, looking to see if Jordan was sitting anywhere.
“Jordan’s up in the bedroom,” he said. “She’s taking all this very hard. I had to get her to take her pills to sleep.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Just sit,” he replied in a very tired voice of defeat.
For a few long moments, he said nothing. I felt a great ache in my chest as I forced back my tears.
“It’s very difficult, if not impossible, to predict how your children will turn out,” he began. He sipped his drink. “As hard as it might be for you to believe, when Kiera was much younger, she was more like Alena. I don’t know what changed her. Maybe it was the birth of her younger sister and the attention Alena needed and got, but there were times when I wondered if someone had substituted another young girl in our house.” He smiled. “You know, like one of those Twilight Zone things or a horror movie.
“Anyway,” he continued, “Jordan, especially, liked to believe, probably still likes to believe, that if Alena had made it to your age, she would have been just like you. I don’t know how many times she’s looked out the window at you doing something outside or commented about something you said or did at school and then said, ‘just like Alena would.’ ”
“What was happening to Ryder Garfield and me just wasn’t fair,” I said. “If Alena was the way you and Jordan say she was, she would have felt the same way.”
He lost his smile. “Alena was an angel. It wasn’t in her to be able to betray anyone, much less anyone she loved.”
“Then she wouldn’t have betrayed Ryder Garfield,” I insisted.
“Oh, please. How many times do you think you’ll fall in love before you find someone you’ll marry?”
“I don’t know. How many times did you?”
He put his glass down hard on the side table. “I suggest you go up to your room and go to bed. Neither of us is in the right mood to discuss this intelligently or even calmly. Go on!” he ordered.
I flinched, and then I stood, picked up my travel bag, glanced at him, and hurried out of the room to the stairs. The hard, cold look on his face put speed in my steps. I practically ran up to my room. My heart was pounding so hard I thought I might faint. I stood there after I closed the door and hugged myself. I was actually too frightened to cry. My tears froze behind my eyes.
Still shaking, I put my things away, undressed, and got into bed. I thought I heard his footsteps in the hallway. It seemed that he stopped at my door. I held my breath, anticipating him entering, but he didn’t. It grew deadly quiet again. The moon pushed away the clouds in front of it and sent beams of silvery light through the windows, lighting up Alena’s wall of giraffes. For a moment, they looked as if they were all moving in a gallop, as if they had been frightened by a tiger or something. My imagination was running rampant.
I closed my eyes but immediately recalled Ryder’s look of absolute pain as the police dragged him away. It was a haunting look. All I could think was that he somehow blamed me. Like me, he was surely wondering how they had come to the right motel and the right door so quickly. Did he think I had bragged to my girlfriends, telling them how we would have this rendezvous? Did he think it was all my fault? What was in his eyes?
I hoped and prayed that in the morning, I would somehow be able to speak to him and that somehow we would find our way back to each other. I thought that falling asleep would be practically impossible now, but I had underestimated how much the driving and the emotional strain had battered me. I fell into such a deep sleep, in fact, that it seemed I had sunk into the bed. Even the morning sunlight streaming out of a cloudless sky and ripping away the darkness didn’t wake me. If Mrs. Duval had come to see how I was, she surely had left quietly, hoping not to disturb me.
I would always remember hearing a shrill, piercing scream, even though no one in the March household had screamed. It woke me with the surprise of an electric shock. I shuddered for a moment like someone going into a convulsion, and then I sat up quickly and cried, “What?”
Silence greeted me. There was no one else in my suite. I glanced at the clock. I had slept until almost nine-fifteen. Feeling achy and groaning like a ninety-year-old woman, I struggled to get out of bed and into the bathroom. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw the face of someone who had not slept or, if she had, had tossed and turned through an avalanche of debilitating nightmares. Cold water did little to revive me. I had barely enough energy to run a brush through my hair twice. Then I went to throw something on and go face the music. There was no sense locking myself in my room to avoid it. What was done was done. I was prepared to accept whatever fate had in store for me.
Or at least, I thought I was. How would I ever know?
The silence in the house surprised me. No one was moving about on our floor. Where was Mrs. Duval, the other maids? Why hadn’t Mrs. Caro sent for me? Surely, everyone knew I was home by now. I turned down the stairway slowly and paused. The silence below was just as deep. There was no one in sight. I was like the ghost of myself descending, not feeling my feet on the steps or my hand on the railing. Maybe I had died last night, and my body was still in my bed.
At the bottom of the stairway, I hesitated again to listen. I thought I heard someone sniffle and then the distinct sound of a cup and saucer. It was just Jordan at breakfast, I thought. She always woke late whenever she took something to help her sleep. I moved quickly to the dining room and stopped in the doorway. Jordan was there and so was Donald, but they were both looking down at their coffee. There was food on the table, but it all looked untouched—toast on plates, eggs looking more like displays in a restaurant storefront, and a full bowl of fruit.
Jordan looked up first. Her face appeared to shudder, as if the mere action of raising her head threw all of her features into a little earthquake. She brought her handkerchief to her mouth, and then Donald turned slowly and looked at me.
“What’s wrong?
“You had better sit down,” Donald said.
I looked from his face to Jordan’s. She still had the handkerchief pressed against her mouth. Now she looked unable to move, even to blink. I walked to my seat and sat.
“What?” I asked.
“If I’ve learned anything in this life so far, it’s that you really don’t know anyone.”
Oh, well, I thought, here comes another one of his long lectures. I relaxed. I was mentally prepared for it, ready simply to sit and listen and try to look remorseful and attentive, as difficult as I expected it to be.
“No one knows what really goes on behind closed doors, within the walls of homes. How many times have we seen and heard neighbors claiming they would never have believed that their neighbor was a serial killer or something? Oh, I know this is the age of revelations, people spilling their most intimate secrets on talk shows. No one seems to have any self-respect anymore. Discretion is lost. At the drop of a hat, this one or that one admits he or she is a drug addict or was abused. You know what I mean?” he said, and looked at Jordan.
Her eyes moved to him but quickly came back to me, and that handkerchief still was over her mouth.
“Now, that’s not to say we can’t pick up some vibes ourselves, and obviously, the more experienced we are, the older we are, the better chance we have to do that, especially when we have gone through some hard experiences ourselves.”
Jordan made a strange sound that seemed to catch in her throat like a scream she was holding down. My heartbeat quickened, and a slow but unrelenting warmth began to radiate out from under my breasts, climbing to the base of my throat. I looked at Donald.
“I’m definitely not one who likes to run about saying ‘I told you so.’ There’s no satisfaction in being right when being right brings misery and sadness. In fact, if I had my druthers, as they say, I’d rather not have the wisdom and perception to foresee tragedy. Someone who has that suffers with it before, during, and after it happens.”