Black Cat

by V. C. Andrews

  Tell her. I thought, tell her before it's too late. If she looks up quickly enough, she will see, too, and she will believe you.

  I didn't cry out. I just didn't have the courage, and moments later there was only darkness in the window. When I finally went up to bed. I couldn't stop the trembling. I had a terrible case of the chills and thought I might be coming down with something, but eventually I fell asleep, and when I woke. I was fine.

  The following day Mama remained secluded. She didn't set foot out of the house. After all, she was supposed to have gone to Pennsylvania to get Baby Celeste and bring her home to us. At dinnertime she received a phone call from Mrs. Zalkin, who was bringing a friend the next day to purchase some herbal skin creams Mama had created,

  "This is perfect," she told me after she hung up. "It's all going so perfectly."

  I had no idea why until I realized Mama did not ask me to take Baby Celeste up to the turret room when they arrived. The moment they set their surprised eyes on her. Mama looked at me and winked. She began her story and they listened with faces fall of sympathy and understanding, but also with some underlying skepticism, which to my surprise didn't bother Mama at all. They left praising her for her wonderful act of charity, but they looked at each other and practically winked.

  With Baby Celeste in her arms. Mama stood on the porch and watched them drive off. Then she smiled and turned to me.

  "Its only a matter of days now before the whole community knows," she said. "It wasn't just a coincidence that one of the busiest busybodies came to see us today, you know. Oh, how the rumors will fly. It will be like an attack of locusts." She laughed strangely.

  My heart should have been singing with joy. Baby Celeste was freed, released from the prison of nonexistence. She could burst onto the world, play in sunlight, go on trips with us, come alive.

  But my second self was full of warnings. It was truly like waiting for the second shoe to fall, and fall it would. That night Mama called Dave Fletcher and invited him to her special dinner as she had planned. From what she had told me, I knew that people in the community were already buzzing about her romance with Mr. Fletcher. Slowly she had filled the trough of gossip, implying to her nosy clients that this affair had emerged from secrecy, that it had been going on for some time. Some people even claimed to have known, which amused Mama even more.

  "They wondered how I could be so

  disinterested in men, and they wondered why Mr. Fletcher never had any romantic interest with all the available widows and divorcees floating about the community. Now, they all think they have the answer. Are you beginning to understand. Noble?" she asked.

  Of course. I did. All of it had been running like an underground stream below my conscious thoughts. Mama believed our spiritual family had planned and arranged it, and they were still actively at work on everything to follow. Anyone who looked at Mama. Mr. Fletcher. and Baby Celeste together now would come to the conclusions Mama wanted. She didn't have to worry about anyone discovering that her story about cousins in a tragic accident was fictitious. Not only would she never have to face the truth, no one would ever know the truth. No one would ever know who I really was. In another way, an effective and admittedly clever way, she had buried me even deeper.

  So my joy for Baby Celeste was tempered and short-lived. Her coming out was my eternal burial. I tried to be happier, be the way Mama wanted, especially in front of others, but it was like being draped in a dark cloud and looking at the world through eyes veiled in gauze.

  All that following week. Mama had both Baby Celeste and me accompany her on every shopping trip. Once she had kept Baby Celeste hidden from the very sun, and now she wanted as many eyes to see her as possible. She deliberately attracted the attention of the women she knew were gossip mongers, whether we were in one of the mails, department stores, or on the streets of the nearby village.

  She had a wonderful spiel and rattled it off with great dramatics.

  "When my cousin had her child," she told the mayor's wife. "she called me immediately to ask if I minded her naming the baby after my poor lost Celeste. Of course. I thought it was a wonderful gesture and told her to please go right ahead. So here she is," she said. bouncing Baby Celeste in her arms. "my Celeste. Its all a tragedy, but look at the beautiful, blessed child that has been born of it."

  She nearly brought them all to tears.

  Afterward, she smiled and told me. "No matter what they think about Dave Fletcher and me, they'll keep it locked up like some very deep secret. They love my story too much. They're so full of confusions that they'll never spread bad gossip about Baby Celeste, She won't have to hide her head when she is older. If anything, she will be on the receiving end of their pity."

  When I looked at the faces of these people. I saw Mama was right. How well she knew them. How could I ever question anything she did or thought?

  "And the baby has taken so to Noble," she told them. "If s as if she has been with him since the day she was born. He's very good with her, too," she added, looking proudly at me. "It's been just as lonely for him as it has been for me, but you have your Celeste again, don't you, my son?" she would ask me in front of them.

  "Yes," I would say.

  You see, I was already a part of it all, already in the web she had woven with her spirits.

  But no moment was more terrifying for me than the night Mr. Fletcher came to our house for the dinner party, the night he would set eyes on his own granddaughter and not know it, and the night he would set eves on me again.

  Mama was more nervous than I had ever seen her about her cooking, about the table, and about our home and how it looked. I wasn't sure which of us was more anxious about Mr. Fletcher's impending arrival. Only Baby Celeste seemed unchanged. Even the days full of travel and shopping, being outside and meeting other people for the first time in her life, didn't seem to have had as dramatic an impact on her as I had anticipated it might. It was truly as though she had expected it would all happen just this way. No one could tell she had been sequestered all her life.

  Mama had decided to roast a turkey. It was like a Thanksgiving dinner, and not by accident either.

  "Dave didn't have a Thanksgiving last year," she told me. "His daughter wasn't home and he didn't feel like traveling to New York to visit with his relatives. He's not that close to his family anyway, which is what I expected. It all works so well for us, you see. It's truly our Thanksgiving, Noble."

  She prepared all the fixings as well. She stuffed the turkey, made creamed onions and sweet potato pudding. She had cranberry sauce and homemade bread. For dessert she made another rhubarb pie, but this time she would have vanilla ice cream for it. The house was filled with wonderful aromas and my stomach churned in anticipation, almost driving out the butterflies.

  The table had been set since mid-afternoon. Every once in a while, Mama would step into the dining room and change something, replace a glass, move a plate, fix the flowers, and inspect the silverware. She was undecided as to whether I should sit across from Mr. Fletcher or beside him, and she changed the seating arrangements twice before concluding I should sit beside him.

  "I don't want you staring at him and making him feel self-conscious," she said. "I know you, Noble. You can do that without even realizing what you're doing,"

  Maybe she was right. The only time I could recall being as nervous in front of strangers was when I had had to go to the school to take the high school equivalency test. I was putting Noble Atwell down as my name. The teacher who monitored the exam seemed to stare at me with intense scrutiny from time to time I did my best to ignore him, but sometimes my hand shook as I wrote.

  The hour before Mr. Fletcher was to arrive. I sat in the living room and kept Baby Celeste occupied. Mama relented on her usual television restrictions, too, and permitted us to watch some children's shows.

  "My cousins would certainly have let her watch television endlessly." she remarked from the doorway as we watched. "I know how young parents are toda
y. They use the idiot box as a babysitter. They don't want to spend all that much time teaching and instructing their children. They're too selfish."

  She spoke about the fictitious cousins as if she really believed they had existed. It made me feel as if I were an actor in a play, especially when she wanted me to reinforce everything she said. After all, it was still a drama we had to perform for Mr. Fletcher,

  "You remember how they were when they visited us a year ago, Noble? Remember?" She waited for my reply.

  I nodded. "Yes. Mama."

  "Right," she said. pleased. And then. before Mr. Fletcher's car pulled up in front of our house, she declared. "He's here. Just be yourself and don't make him feel a bit uncomfortable."

  Don't make him feel uncomfortable? Was she blind? Couldn't she see how I was shaking inside, or did she simply want to ignore it?

  I heard the car door shut. Baby Celeste looked up and away from the television set. "Shut off the television and get her up to go into the dining room," Mama instructed. She went to the door before Mr. Fletcher had time to use the knocker,

  "Welcome," I heard her cry.

  I lifted Baby Celeste into my arms, took a deep breath, and walked into the hallway just as they finished embracing. She turned to us.

  "You remember my son. Noble." she said. "Yes, of course. Hi. Noble," Mr. Fletcher said.

  If any painful memories were clouding his brain, he kept them well hidden. He smiled warmly at me. It had been nearly three years now since I had really looked at him. His reddish-brown hair had some gray streaks. I didn't recall that. but I did recall how similar his build was to Elliot's. He looked a few inches more than six feet, slimmer perhaps. I couldn't forget those turquoise eyes. eyes Elliot had inherited, Baby Celeste's were more a cerulean with tiny green specs. Like Elliot, Mr. Fletcher had a slight cleft and even some fine freckles about the bridge of his nose and across the crests of his cheeks.

  "Hi," I said.

  "Hi," Baby Celeste said without any coaxing. She had a wide, happy smile. too.

  Mr. Fletcher laughed. "What a delightful child. I guess she feels at home here already."

  Mama nodded. "She makes it easy for us. You'll be amazed at how sweet and loving a personality she has. Come in, come in."

  She closed the door and I stepped back. He smiled at me again.

  "Let me show you some of the house. I've been doing some redecorating." Mama told him. "Noble, would you get the baby situated in the dining room. Well be right there."

  "Yes. Mama."

  "Yes, this is nice." Mr. Fletcher declared as soon as he looked into the living room. "The piano looks like a real antique."

  "It is, but I keep it tuned. I'll play something for you later,- I heard her promise him.

  I brought Baby Celeste into the dining room and set her in her booster chair. I could hear them talking as they walked through the downstairs. Occasionally. Mama's laughter floated back.

  "I thought I had an interesting old house, but this place is fascinating," he told her in the hallway.

  We think so. We always did," she told him.

  "Well" Mr. Fletcher said, stepping into the dining room with her. "this is absolutely beautiful. What a nice table. I'm overwhelmed. Sarah."

  "It's nothing." Then, indicating the chair beside me, she said, "Here is where you should sit."

  He nodded. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

  "Yes,' she said. "Enjoy the meal."

  He laughed. "I don't expect that to be very difficult," he said, and turned to me. I couldn't help cringing inside but his face was full of warmth and friendliness.

  "You've gotten pretty tall, Noble. Your mother is very proud of the work you do around here. too. Your ears probably were itching all the time she's been with me."

  Mama smiled, "Dave's grandmother, it seems, was full of superstitions and old ideas."

  "Whose wasn't?" he said. If your ears itch, someone's talking about you If your palms itch, you'll be getting money."

  "If a knife falls off the table, you'll have visitors," Mama chimed.

  They both laughed like two conspirators who had been rehearsing their lines for days. When they laughed. Baby Celeste laughed,

  "She is a delight," Mr. Fletcher declared. "And after all she's been through,'"

  "Yes, we were afraid she'd be up all night with nightmares, but fortunately, she's taken to us quickly. Why, she's even calling me Mama," Mama told him.

  "Really?" He was impressed. "Well, that will make things easier for you. Sarah. although'.-- his face soured with his personal problems-- "it's not easy bringing up young people these days." He looked at me and nodded. "Not everyone is as fortunate as you are. You probably made a brilliant decision when you decided to homeschool your children and keep them away from all the bad influences out there."

  "Exactly. Now, when Noble goes out in the world, he will have a sensible, strong way about him. He's responsible, honest, and very loyal," Mama added with her eyes on me.

  Mr. Fletcher shook his head in admiration. "I envy you. Sarah. A woman alone and you've made such a beautiful home and now a nice little business with your herbal remedies and all. You live in an early twentieth-century home, but you're a modern day woman to me."

  Mama blushed at the compliment. I couldn't remember when I had last seen her blush. Could it be that she really liked this man? Could their love be so strong as to overcome even the secrets we kept locked in our hearts?

  Mr. Fletcher looked at Baby Celeste so intently. I was sure he was seeing Elliot's face. My heart pounded. Mama looked to be holding her breath as well.

  "Da da," Baby Celeste suddenly said.

  Mr. Fletcher's eyebrows nearly leaped off his face. His eyes widened with surprise. My heart stopped beating. I was sure of it.

  Then he laughed.

  "See," Mama cried, "she's adopted you already. I hope you feel like you are with family."

  My mouth fell open. Did she dare tempt the truth, a truth poised to leap out at us all and brine down everything in what would be total destruction?

  Mr. Fletcher beamed. He looked around the table, smiling at Baby Celeste, smiling at me, then nodding.

  It really does feel like Thanksgiving. Sarah," he said. "I can't thank you enough."

  He doesn't know. I thought. He doesn't understand. Mama looked at me, and in her face I saw her pleasure and her confidence.

  Her eves shifted toward Baby Celeste, who was looking at her with a face that had a remarkably similar expression.

  It was the tomorrow Mama had predicted.

  I had no idea where it would lead us. but I felt like someone caught in a strong wind or an ocean wave. All I could do was surrender to the future,

  7

  The Weakened Walls

  .

  Mama outdid herself. It was her best dinner

  ever. Mr. Fletcher's mouth was as filled with compliments as it was with the succulent turkey and delicious stuffing, and when she brought out his favorite pie, he looked ready to give her whatever she wanted. That adage embroidered on a small plaque in the kitchen. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach, never looked truer.

  He took a forkful of pie, put it in his mouth, and closed his eyes with pleasure.

  And I thought I was a half-decent cook." he told me. "Nothing lets you know how much of a bachelor you are as when you actually believe you enjoy your own cooking, Noble. Beware of that.' He laughed.

  When the dinner ended, he insisted on helping Mama clear the table. She refused. She wanted him to adjourn to the living room with Baby Celeste and me. I was terrified of being with him without Mama.

  Thankfully he insisted. "I do it every night for myself. Sarah." "But you are our guest."

  "I'd rather like to continue to feel I'm part of a family rather than just another guest," he countered, in magical words.

  "That's very nice of you. Dave. Noble, take the baby into the living room. Well be in as soon as we finish here."

  Relieved. I quic
kly did what she asked. Baby Celeste occupied herself with her doll and teacup set. but I noticed she kept looking to the doorway in anticipation of Mr. Fletcher and Mama. We could hear them laughing in the kitchen.

  Afterward, they came into the living room and Mr. Fletcher sat on the settee to listen to Mama play. To his surprise and mine. Baby Celeste crawled up beside him and leaned against him. He looked at me, smiled, then put his arm around her.

  "Hello there." he said, and she looked up at him, her eyes twinkling. "What a special child she is. Sarah. No wonder you didn't hesitate to take her into your home. I'd take her in myself in a heartbeat."

  "I'm sure you would." Mama said, throwing me a conspiratorial glance. It made my heart freeze. Surely he would soon realize who Baby Celeste really was Mama always said blood was thicker than water.

  She began playing some of her Mozart sonatas, and then she played "La Vie en Rose." I watched Mr. Fletcher's face soften, and his eyes fill with love and appreciation. I had expected it and seen hints of it, but somehow, being in the same room with the two of them and feeling the heat in the air between them. I was truly amazed at how palpable the emotions between them were. The past seemed to have been completely erased. forgotten. Mama truly could do whatever she wanted, but more important perhaps, she could get other people to do what she wanted,

  When Baby Celeste fell asleep to the music. Mama asked me to take her up and put her to bed. I lifted her in my arms, and when I leaned over to do so, my eyes met Mr. Fletcher's. He looked at me with new interest, his gaze seeming to reach down into my heart, reaching inside me. I had to move away quickly. fearful he would see all the deception and fear in my eyes.

  After I put Baby Celeste asleep, I started down the stairway, and midway I heard their conversation.

  "Noble looks like such a sensitive, gentle young man," he told Mama, "That's rare these days. The teenage boys I see all look unwashed, lazy, actually bored with life, and certainly not gentle enough to care for a little girl."