Girl in the Shadows

by V. C. Andrews

  She nodded and smiled at me.

  "I guess now we can tell Mrs. Westington everything." Tyler said. "She'll understand and she won't be upset, especially after she hears from Echo about the doll and your magic show."

  "Yes, you're right," I said. He was clever to have us do all this first. I was angry, at myself for suspecting him of any other motives.

  He looked at Destiny. "Are you going to sell her, too, when the attorney says it's all right to do so?"

  "Oh, no, I can't do that." I replied quickly.

  "It might be hard explaining that doll to everyone when you cart her about in your car," he said. "Especially when they see how realistically created she is."

  "I don't care. I can't give her away or sell her to anyone," I said, surprised myself at how much panic was in my voice when I said it.

  "It's just a doll. April."

  "I know, but it was my uncle Palaver's most cherished possession. It has meaning no one else can appreciate."

  He thought a moment and nodded. "Okay. Let's see if Mrs. Westington will let you bring her into the house."

  "It's not that important yet," I said. "When I have to sell off the motor home. I'll think about her. As silly as it might sound to you," I added, looking at Destiny, "this is the only home she has ever known."

  He looked at me with a slight smile on his face and then he nodded. I was sure my reactions amused him.

  Afterward, we walked back to the house to continue our lessons.

  "Where have you been?" Mrs. Westington asked. When we entered, it woke her.

  "We'll let Echo tell you," Tyler said, and told her to do so.

  She began excitedly. Most of it Mrs. Westington didn't understand or follow, but she did get the main idea.

  "You put on a show for them?" she asked inc. "Using thatdoll?"

  "As best I could." I said.

  "When I heard April's story. I thought it would be the best way to explain that doll to Echo," Tyler added. "She saw it in action and understood its real purpose."

  "Hmm," Mrs. Westington said. "Well. I guess it all worked out for the best then. You can bring it into the house whenever you want." she told me.

  I thanked her and we all returned to our work until it was Tyler's time to go home. Echo was always very disappointed when the clock struck that hour. To get her off her sadness, he gave her one more thing to do, asking her to have it ready for him when next he returned and making it sound like it was very important to him. That was enough to get her started immediately. He could ask her to dig a ditch all night and she would do it for him. I thought. He kept talking to me about my own assignments and preparation for the high school equivalency exam. so I walked out with him.

  "I'm glad this is turning out better than I had expected," he said. There was almost nothing else he could have said that would have made me feel as good. "I only hope I can be here long enough to help you."

  After we left the house. I walked with him to his car. The late afternoon sun was threading its rays through the tops of the trees that surrounded the pond. A light, golden laver like the icing on a cake made the water glimmer,

  "It looks like a pond of Chardonnay," I said, nodding at the water.

  Tyler laughed. "I guess Trevor Washington and his winery are having an influence on you."

  "It is interesting. I imagine this was once a very beautiful vineyard."

  "Probably. My mother remembers it in its heyday. I don't." He got into his sports car and looked up at me before starting the engine. "Aren't you bored here? There's not much for you to do except prepare for your exam and help Trevor. They don't even have cable television. Their set is still attached to an old- fashioned antenna."

  "I haven't had time to think about it," I said. "with my uncle's death and all that followed."

  "Yes. I guess that's true." He started the engine. "'Well, maybe one night. I'll show you around the area.."

  "Really?"

  He shrugged. "See you. Spend some more time on those algebraic equations."

  I watched him drive off. He waved just before turning at the bottom of the driveway, the sound of his car engine reverberating over the street and dying away like thunder in the distance. It was then that I realized my heart was thumping, and it was then that I vowed to myself I would go on a serious diet and begin to once again do the exercises Brenda had once designed for me.

  It was as if thinking about her brought her back. As soon as I entered the house. Mrs. Westington told me Brenda was on the telephone, calling me from Europe. I hurried to take, the receiver.

  "Why are you still there?' she demanded as soon as I said hello. "Why didn't you go to Cousin Pete's? I called him and he said he knew nothing about you or Uncle Palaver's death. You never even called him. I felt so stupid."

  "Mrs. Westington invited me to stay here and help her with her granddaughter, who's deaf and lives here alone. She's nearly fifteen, but she's very immature. She's hired her granddaughter's tutor to coach me for the high school equivalency exam as well and I'm helping with the small vineyard and wine-making," I said, all in one breath. Brenda was so quiet, I thought we had lost the connection. "Did you hear me?"

  "Yes, but if you had gone to live with Cousin Pete, you could be in a regular school. April. I don't understand how you could simply take up with strangers like that."

  "Once you meet Mrs. Westington, you'll understand. This is a big house. It was once a famous thriving vineyard and winery

  "I've got another few weeks in Europe and then I'm coming back to live in Seattle," she said over my words, as if they had no importance.

  "Seattle?"

  "Yes. I was calling to tell you I've been offered a position on a professional basketball team in Seattle and I've taken it. Now that I know you're still there. I'll keep in touch. I'm going to stopover in San Francisco for a few hours. and I don't think you're far from there. right?"

  "No. I'm not."

  "Then we'll meet and talk about all this then. April. let you know my exact schedule. Afterward. I'll be on the road with the team a treat deal, but you can come to live with me once I'm set up in Seattle."

  "Just you?" I asked.

  "For now" she replied honestly.

  "Well talk when you're in San Francisco," I said,

  "Are you really all right?"

  "Yes."

  "Okay. I'll call you." she promised. "Take care of yourself."

  "You, too."

  I couldn't help crying softly. Just hearing her voice brought back so much so quickly it took my breath away. Mrs. Westington saw me wiping away the tears.

  "Why don't you go up and take a little rest. Take a warm bath and relax. I know that boy overworked you."

  "No, he didn't." I said.

  She raised her eyebrows at how quickly I had come to Tyler's defense. It embarrassed me. too.

  "I mean, he's just trying to get me to make up for all this time lost. I didn't do any schoolwork when I was on the road with my uncle."

  "Uh-huh," she said. She tried to hide a smile from me and went to busy herself with dinner preparations. I hurried out and up to my room. My head was swirling with confusion. Yes. I would like to be with Brenda again. I thought. She was my only family, despite what had occurred, but the life she proposed for me sounded so tentative and so lonely, and not so much different from the way it had been in Memphis. Surely it wouldn't be long before she'd find someone, a new companion. and I would be shoved to the back of the bus again. I longed to be independent, despite my age. I didn't want her to be my legal guardian. If someone like Tyler Monahan proposed to me, I'd accept in a heartbeat.

  Was that even a remote possibility or was I just as immature as Echo when it came to my fantasies?

  I gazed at myself in the mirror. Was I such a lost cause? Couldn't I lose weight, make myself attractive, have a young man seriously consider me, fall in love with me? Wasn't I capable of loving a man? In a true sense, I suppose if I wanted to be honest. I would admit that I wasn't much more sop
histicated about it all than Echo was. If Tyler Monahan only knew the truth about me when it came to my experiences with boys. I thought, he'd be quite surprised.

  I returned to the closet, where Rhona's pretty and sexy clothing hung like a tantalizing promise, daring me to turn it into a reality. I vowed then and there to get up earlier every morning and jog just as Brenda used to do. I had to develop an attitude. I had to hate the body I was in and swear to myself I would get out of it. Brenda once told me to conjure up a vision of myself as I would like to see myself and whenever I looked into a mirror. I should be unsatisfied until I saw that vision reflected back.

  "Focus," she urged, "Become a monomaniac. Think only of that goal and twist and turn everything to service it. Focus, focus, focus," she chanted at me.

  I know it annoyed and even disgusted her that I could never do it. I would try to do it for a while and then drift back to my self-destructive ways.

  "You're a lost cause," she would tell me. "Don't ask me for anymore help or advice. I don't like wasting my time and energy on someone who really doesn't care about helping herself."

  I couldn't call it tough love because her face was really filled with disdain. The tough was there but not the love, and it was no act for my benefit. I often thought she wished I wasn't related to her, and in school I saw the way she would ignore me, pretending I wasn't around. If she didn't see or hear from me all that day, it wouldn't bother her a bit. In fact, she preferred it. She had a joke she used often. "We had a different mailman when April was born."

  Her attitude about me often made me wonder if Daddy had the same thoughts when he looked at me. I was caught in a maddening cycle. The more depressed I became about myself, the more I abused myself, and the abuse continued to make me distasteful to myself.

  It's got to end, I thought. I need self-discipline. To punctuate my conclusions. I dropped to the floor and began to go through a battery of exercises Brenda had once designed for me: leg lifts, sit-ups, trunk twists, even jogging in place until my heart was pounding and I was sweating so much, my body was slippery. Then I took a shower, instead of a bath, and scrubbed at my rolls of fat so hard, someone would think I was trying to shave them off.

  Tired, but surprisingly happy about it. I dressed and went down to dinner, determined to push away the delicious but fattening foods Mrs. Westington had prepared. She would be upset. but I would stand my ground. She was sure to see the determination in my face and retreat.

  However, instead of being upset with me. Mrs. Westington had an amused look on her face when I limited my portion of mashed potatoes to a teaspoon and I took no bread and butter. I ate only the chicken and vegetables and drank a glass of water. Once in a while I caught her and Trevor exchanging glances. I absolutely refused to eat any dessert, especially her homemade blackberry pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. I was dying to have it, but I slammed down the lid hard on my gluttony,

  "Aren't you feeling all right, dear?" Mrs. Westington asked me. "You're not eating very much."

  "I'm fine, I have to lose weight." I said. "My sister reminded me when we spoke," I added, even though she hadn't.

  "Oh. Well, your sister is looking after your best interests. I'm sure," she said. I thought I saw her wink at Trevor.

  Echo appeared to be mimicking my eating, however, and that did annoy Mrs. Westington. I quickly signed to her that I had to lose weight. She didn't. She remembered I had told her I had no boyfriend because I was too fat.

  "You want a boyfriend now?" she asked me through her "No." I told her. "I just want to like myself."

  She looked skeptical and then she ate normally.

  That night, after dinner, while Echo was doing her homework, I returned to the motor home by myself. I stepped in quietly, flicked on the light switch, and closed the door behind me. Then I went into the living room and sat on the sofa across from Destiny. Now that Mrs. Westington had given me permission to do so. I decided I would take her into the house and up to my room after all. I couldn't help thinking she was lonely, but maybe I was just projecting my own loneliness. Any day now, our attorney would be calling to tell me to get the motor home ready for auction anyway. I'd have to come here and pack away all that was inside, the linens, dishes, books, and mementos that had belonged to Uncle Palaver. I had to decide what of that I wanted to keep and what I wanted to give away or sell.

  To me it looked like Destiny was sitting there anticipating something very dramatic would be done with her. I imagined the doll missing Uncle Palaver. I was thinking like a little girl who talked to her doll as if the doll were alive. As children we could pretend and no one would think it was anything but cute, but at a certain age, all make-believe had to stop abruptly or else we'd be considered abnormal. And yet we all talk to ourselves as if there were someone else there, as if we were two people, chastising ourselves for doing something stupid, complimenting ourselves for doing something good. We need to talk to ourselves, don't we? I thought. The doll just made it easier in a real way.

  "It's time to go," I told Destiny. "Time to leave. Uncle Palaver's never coming back. We're alone in the world, you and I. We have only each other now. I can't imagine Brenda liking my bringing you into her home. but I promise. I won't go anywhere without you,"

  I fought the temptation to throw my voice and have Destiny reply to me just the way Uncle Palaver often did. If I did that. I would surely scare myself. I thought, and sighed deeply. I looked around. I really had to beg-in organizing things in here. Maybe tomorrow I'd ask Trevor to give me some of the cartons he had for the cases of wine and I, would label everything after I had packed it away.

  I looked at my watch. Carrying Destiny back to the house and up the stairs to my bedroom would be quite a sight. I wanted Echo to be asleep and even Mrs. Westington to be in her room. I'll just wait, I thought. I was going to turn on the little television set and rose to do so, when I heard a gentle tapping at the motor home door.

  It surprised me.

  "Who could that be?" I asked Destiny.

  I rose and opened the door to see Tyler Monahan standing there.

  "Hi," he said.

  "What are you doing back here?" I asked.

  He showed me a videotape. "I thought you could use this. It's a tape I forgot I had, a tape of sign instruction. It will make it easier and quicker for you to learn," he said.

  "Oh. Thanks." I didn't move and he didn't move. "How did you know I was here?"

  "I asked for you at the house and Mrs. Westington said she thought you had gone out for a walk. I saw the lights on in the mobile home."

  "How did you get away from work?"

  "We're closed for inventory. I forgot," he said. He started to look annoyed at my questions and then gazed past me. "What are you doing here anyway?"

  "I've got to get started on packing. I was just thinking about everything. The call could come any day to put the motor home up for auction and I'll have to get everything personal out of it."

  He nodded and just stood there. I realized how silly it was talking to each other over the small stairway.

  "Come on in if you want." I said. I backed away and he came in, closing the door behind him. He glanced at Destiny.

  "I still can't let over that doll. You do wonders with it," he said, then looked about. I meant to ask you where you slept when you traveled with your uncle. On the sofa?"

  "No, up there." I said, nodding at the bunk above the driver's seat.

  "Oh. I guess you couldn't toss and turn too much," he said, looking up at it.

  "I'm not a light sleeper. but I never fell out. Would you like something to drink? I know we still have some sodas in the refrigerator." I went to it and looked. "Cokes and ginger ales."

  "No, that's all right, thanks," he said. He placed the videotape on the coffee table and looked again at Destiny. "It's funny, but it seems like her eyes move with you as you move about."

  "I know.-

  "I never saw anything like it. Those lips look soft."

  "Th
ey are. As you saw, she's soft wherever she is supposed to be." I said.

  He looked like he wanted to see for himself, but I didn't give him permission to touch her. He hovered about her, looking at her ears, her fingers.

  "She has pierced ears. too?"

  "Yes. Occasionally, Uncle Palaver put earrings on her, depending upon the outfits, the show. You can take her pulse if you want," I said. It had always intrigued me.

  "What? Take her pulse? You're kidding."

  I shook my head and he brought his fingers to her wrist slowly. His eyes widened.

  "How..."

  "Something electrical run by the batteries to simulate a heartbeat. Stagehands used to get a real kick out of it, but they couldn't touch her when Uncle Palaver was around."

  "What was the point of having that?"

  I didn't answer. I knew the point. The more she resembled the real Destiny, the happier Uncle Palaver could be. I wouldn't even begin to tell him other things, like when he gave her a bath or brushed her teeth, things I had seen him do, but never mentioned to him or asked him about for fear of embarrassing him. In those earlier days when I was with him. I had one fear and that was I would upset him too much and he would send me back to Brenda or leave me on some street corner in some village.

  Tyler sat on the sofa and shook his head at Destiny. Then he looked up at me as though lie just remembered I was there. too.

  "So where did you live before you went to live with your sister in Memphis?" he asked.

  "A small community called Hickory about ninety miles from Memphis. My father was an attorney there. Where did you go to college?' "California State. Northridge," he said. "Did you always want to do this kind of work?" "No."

  "What made you go into it then?"

  "My mother has a sister who had a child born deaf. My uncle was embarrassed by him,"

  "Why?"

  "He saw him as an indication of his own personal, manly failure. He had produced an imperfect child. He did nothing to help the boy, refused to spend money on special instructors or a special school. He had only the most basic help. My uncle even forbade my aunt from practicing signing with him, especially in front of other people. I remember thinking the child was like agbird with a broken wing, never able to fly. He was growing up wild, sort of like Helen Keller, in a way. You know about her?"