Secrets in the Shadows by V. C. Andrews
reckless as he was.
"Whatever they did, they regret it now and will
for the rest of their lives," Uncle Tyler said. "That doesn't bring him hack," I said. "No. Sometimes I wonder if it all isn't just
dumb luck. When I was your age, I did some pretty
stupid things and came close. You know what they
say, There but for the grace of God go I.
He studied me a moment, then put his cup
down and ran his forefinger over the edge. I had long
ago realized that was the preamble to some deep
comment or very prodding question, so I braced
myself.
"I couldn't be more pleased about your wanting
to live with us for your senior year," he began and
then looked up aunt, "but I'd hate to think our
agreeing to it was bringing your grandparents any
pain."
"I know." "And I'd hate to think you believe this is the
total answer to everything. Those answers are inside
you, Alice. It doesn't matter where you live." I thought for a moment. He looked like he was
holding his breath. I knew he didn't want to do or say
anything that would upset Zipporah.
"I think it does in my case, Uncle Tyler. You
see, where I live back in Sandburg my mother still
lives. She haunts that village and those people. They
won't let go of it, and that puts deep shadows inside
me and prevents me from finding the answers you
mentioned."
He nodded. "Very good," he said and slapped
the table. Then he stood up. "Your uncle Tyler hereby
swears to keep his big mouth shut and his philosophical muttering to himself."
"No, don't do that," I said, laughing. "I came
here for those tidbits of wisdom."
He laughed and hugged me just as Aunt
Zipporah appeared in the kitchen doorway, still in her
nightgown, her eyes looking like they were filled with
spiderwebs.
"What is going on here? It's still the middle of
the night."
"Not quite, Zipporah. Alice and I are solving the world's problems. We thought if we could do that
before breakfast, we'd enjoy lunch."
"Did he wake you up?"
"No, I was up," I said. She tilted her head.
"Little white lie," I added. "I'm taking your advice," I
said, and she brightened a bit.
"I'm going up to shower and dress. Since you've
spoiled my night's sleep, I might as well start the
day."
"See you two later," Uncle Tyler said, starting
out.
"We're going to do a little shopping this
morning. I told you, remember?" Aunt Zipporah
called to him
"Yes, no problem. We're fine. Take all the time
you need," he said and left.
"I'll be right down," Aunt Zipporah said. "Eat
something. Don't wait for me."
She hurried back upstairs.
After she had her coffee and some natural
cereal, we set out for the department stores. Although
it was fun shopping with her, it reminded me of when
I had gone with her, my grandmother and Rachel to
get my prom dress and shoes. That memory kept me
from enjoying myself, and Aunt Zipporah was perceptive enough to see that something was
bothering me. I told her what it was and she nodded. "Alice, I didn't say anything when I went to
Mom and Dad's and saw you had gone back to
wearing these clothes and not doing anything with
your hair and your face, but I'd like to see you try
again."
I shrugged. "What difference will it make?" "I think, just as before, it will help your selfimage, but it will be good for the restaurant," she said,
half- kidding.
"You think customers will be turned off by
someone limping around and looking like I do?" I
asked, maybe a little too sharply.
She held her gaze. And then she smiled. "Tyler's not all wrong about some of the things
he believes, Alice. He always says if you're not happy
with yourself, you can't expect other people to be
happy with you, right? That's not a mean thing to tell
you, and I'm not saying we won't love and want you
no matter what you decide, but will you at least think
about it? I'd be more than happy to take you shopping
for some clothes. Maybe I'll even buy something more
up-to-date and get Rachel off my back," she added. "If you do, I will," I challenged.
"It's a deal. Let's get all this back first, and on
our way we can see how it's going at the cafe." We started for home. About two miles out of
the village, we saw the boy who had been in the cafe.
He was walking with his head down. He carried that
same notebook and--speaking of clothes--wore what
looked like the exact same things he had worn the day
before.
"That looks like Duncan Winning," Aunt
Zipporah said and slowed down.
He looked up when we pulled alongside him. "Hi, Duncan," she said. "Would you like a ride
into town?"
He looked at me, then shook his head. "No, thanks. I'm in no rush to get there," he
said, lowered his head and kept walking.
"He's a strange duck," Aunt Zipporah said, "but
I can't help feeling sorry for him. He looks so lost all
the time."
"I'm sure people back home thought the same
of me," I said.
"The difference is you really do have family
who cares, Alice."
"I know."
Aunt Zipporah looked at Duncan. "Someone told me he writes poetry. Maybe it was Cassie who
told me."
"Is that what he does sitting in the cafe?" "I guess so. I just equaled all the words I've
ever said to him and he's said to me," she told me. "Doesn't he have any friends?"
"I've never seen him with anyone when I've
seen him, but I don't know much more about him. His
mother and he live out on what was once a chicken
farm. Again, according to Mrs. Mallen, who knows a
little about everyone's business, Duncan's mother had
a little money after his father took off, and she does a
mail out business from her home. Mostly religious
material. They also sold off some of their land for development." She smiled. "Little cities, lots of gossip." We started off again. I glanced at him as we
passed him by. He kept his head down, but when we
were well beyond him, he looked up to watch us
disappear around a turn.
"Does he get a job during the summer?" "I don't know, honey. I don't imagine he would
be easy to employ. Even Tyler, the master guru,
would have trouble dealing with someone so
introverted," she said, smiling.
I didn't smile. I thought to myself, If it weren't for my uncle and aunt, I'd probably not have a job for
the summer either.
For some reason, the cafe wasn't as jammed for
lunch as it had been the day before, so we were able to
continue home to bring everything into my bedroom.
After we put on the new bedding and set out the area
rugs, hung the new curtains and placed the lamp, we
stood back together and considered.
"You know what else you might think of
doing?"
"What?"
"Pai
papering them. Something. Maybe," she added, "if
you brighten up the room, you'll brighten up yourself
inside."
"Maybe." I relented, and we planned on when
we would go look for some paint or wallpaper. After we made ourselves some lunch and ate
and talked, I revealed that I had brought along one of
the more fashionable skirts and blouses I had bought
during our shopping spree before the prom. After we
ate, I put them on and she smiled.
"Now go fix your hair and put on a little
lipstick, Alice."
I did, and then we left for the cafe to help with the after-lunch cleanup and preparations for the evening dinner. The crowd had thinned out to where there were just two tables of four. It was Missy's turn to stay on. Cassie had left, and Mrs. Mallen had gone to the bank to make a deposit for Uncle Tyler. As soon as we entered, I looked over at the corner table and sure enough, there he was, Duncan Winning, his head down, scribbling in his notebook, a cup of coffee
on the table.
Aunt Zipporah raised her eyebrows and looked
at me.
"He doesn't usually come in two days in a row,"
she said.
I pitched in with the cleanup and preparations
but looked at him periodically. Aunt Zipporah again
muttered something about feeling sorry for him.
Finally, I approached him. I knew he saw me coming,
but he didn't look up.
"What are you writing so intently?" I asked. I thought he wasn't going to answer, but I didn't
move. I wasn't going to let him ignore me.
He looked up slowly.
"I'm keeping a sort of journal," he said, "but I'm
writing it in poetry."
"Really?"
"No, I'm making it up because I'm really a spy
from another planet taking notes on human behavior.
Which would you rather believe?"
"Very funny. How come you wouldn't accept
my aunt's offer for a ride today?"
"I don't like being indebted to anyone for anything."
"A ride? What's the big deal?"
"You give in on the little things and before you
know it . . ."
"What?"
"You give away your soul," he said. I know I
was smirking. He shrugged. "You asked, so I told
you. Since you're being so nosy, I'll ask you some
questions."
"Go ahead."
"What did you mean when you said you don't
have any parents to take care of you? Are they dead or
not?"
"No, they're not dead," I replied but didn't add
anything.
"I guess you're not going to tell me. That's all
right. I'll live without the information," he said and
turned a page in his notebook.
"My parents never married," I said. I wasn't sure why I should want to tell him anything, but I suddenly felt the need to do so. He was infuriating me, and it was like releasing some of the built-up
steam. It was either do that or explode in his face. "Ali, an unexpected bundle of joy, huh? How
old were they?"
"In their teens."
"So who did you live with before you came
here?" "My father's parents."
"Oh. They took on the great responsibility.
What, are they getting too old to handle you?" "No, they're still very young."
"So why do you want to go to school here?" "I need a change," I said. "Do you like going to
school here?"
"I don't think about it. I just go."
"Do you have a job for the summer?" "I do everything around our house. Maintain
the grounds, fix stuff. That keeps me busy. It's just my
mother and me."
"What happened to your father?" I asked. I
remembered what Aunt Zipporah had told me, but I
wanted to see what he would say.
"I don't know. Maybe he was kidnaped by
aliens."
"Very funny."
"Hysterical."
"Do you want any more coffee?"
"No." He closed his notebook and looked out
the window. "So won't your boyfriend miss you?" "I don't have a boyfriend, and before you ask, I
don't have any friends who will miss me either."Why
not?"
"I don't speak the same language," I said, and
he finally smiled. He had a very nice smile, I thought.
It was like a dash of light and warmth. I understood
why my aunt wanted me to smile more.
"You working here tonight?"
"Yes."
"I'm fixing up my scooter. It's not much, but it
gets me around. I'm going home with some parts, and
I think it should be in working order in a few hours. If
you need a ride home afterward . . ."
"You want me to accept a ride and risk giving
away my soul?"
He actually laughed and then stood up. "Okay," he said. "Touche." He started away. "I'll tell you what," I said, and he paused and
turned hack to me.
"What?"
"I'll let you take me home if you'll let me read
some of your poetry."
He considered.
"That way we're both taking a risk," I added,
and he nodded.
"Okay. I'll be back about . . ."
"Nine-thirty," I said.
He nodded and walked out. Aunt Zipporah
stepped up beside me quickly.
"Looks like you made something of a
breakthrough. I don't recall anyone talking to him that
long."
"He's not bad," I said. "Sorta interesting in a
strange way."
"Strange?"
"Different." I looked at her. "Like me." She smiled.
"He wants to give me a ride home later. I said
he could come by at nine-thirty, okay?"
"He's got his own car? Why is he always
walking everywhere?"
"He said he had a scooter he was fixing and it
would be ready to go tonight."
She looked worried.
"If he goes fast, I'll make him stop and walk," I
promised.
"Something happens to you here and I'm dog
food," she said.
"Nothing will happen. Bad, that is."
"Okay. I guess I had better get used to having a
teenager under my wing. Just like your grandfather
warned." "It'll be all right, Zipporah."
She hugged me.
"I know it will. Let's get back to work," she
said.
I did, and with a new spurt of energy that
surprised me the most.
Because we weren't that busy and I had time to
loiter, I kept looking to see if Duncan had arrived
early. I probably would have been thinking about him
anyway. Aunt Zipporah caught me watching the front
of the cafe and smiled to herself. Both she and Tyler
had already discussed Duncan bringing me home, I
was sure.
Just after nine, I saw him pull up on his scooter
and park it outside the cafe, but he didn't come right
in. He sat on it and folded his arms, looking off in the
opposite direction as if he had no special reason to be
here and couldn't care less if I came out or not. "You can go now, Alice," Aunt Zipporah told me. "There's not much left to do. We'll be along in a
couple of hours," she added.
"Okay."
"Please be careful," she said and then laughed.
&nb
said it."
"I will," I told her with firmness.
"Unfortunately, know what it means not to be." . She nodded, "I guess you do."
I took off my apron and headed out. I knew he
was watching for me out of the corner of his eye no
matter how coolly indifferent he tried to look, because
the moment I emerged, he turned.
"Released early for good behavior?"
"Something like that," I said. "You sure this
thing is safe?"
It was a well-dented black scooter with some
rust.
"It has a top speed of thirty-five miles an hour
downhill. Don't worry," he said and sat. He waited. I
looked back through the cafe window and saw my
aunt watching with worry scribbled all over her face.
Then I got behind Duncan on the scooter.
"You can hold on by putting your arms around
me," he said and kicked the engine on. It sputtered. He turned back, smiling. "Look at that, you're making
it stutter."
"Very funny."
We started away.
"How do you know where I live?" I asked as he
headed out of the city.
"You're with your aunt and uncle, right?" "Yes."
"Everyone knows that house. It's one of a kind
around here."
Although we weren't going fast, the breeze
slapped at my face enough for me to rest the left side
of my head against his back. We were silent, moving
through the darkness with just the rather dim
illumination of the scooter's weak front light clearing
away the night. There was no moonlight, and a mostly
cloudy sky hid whatever starlight the celestial ceiling
was willing to offer.
We didn't speak until we reached my aunt's
home and he pulled into the driveway and stopped. I got off. He remained seated, the engine
running. "I did my end of the bargain," I said. "Where
are your poems?"
"You really want to read them?" he asked, his
voice full of skepticism.
"That was the deal. Well?"
He shut off the engine and reached into his
jacket to pull out the notebook.
"You might as well come inside," I said. "I can't
read them in the dark."
He looked at the house as if something about it
terrified him, and he did not make any effort to get off
the scooter.
"What?"
"That's all right. I've got to get home." "Really?"
"You can hold onto the notebook until
tomorrow. I'll come by the cafe and pick them up." He kick-started the scooter.