Black Cat

by V. C. Andrews

  Betsy had no interest in looking at the kitchen, but they stopped there anyway before they headed up the stairs to the bedrooms. As they ascended, Betsy deliberately shook the balustrade, taking pleasure in how it rattled in places.

  "Janitor boy," she called down to me, "you had better fix this efficiently or someone might just break it and fall, and we don't want any more accidents, now do we?"

  I felt myself redden.

  "Betsy," her father snapped, and she continued on, a laugh trailing behind her like a ribbon of disdain. When they all reached the second floor. I heard Baby Celeste call out. She had waken from her nap. It was as if a whip had been snapped right in front of my eyes. I hurried up the stairs, holding my breath. What would Betsy say the moment she set eyes on Baby Celeste? Would she see Elliot and therefore just assume as did the rest of the community that her father was actually Baby Celeste's father?

  I reached the top just as Mama was carrying Baby Celeste out to introduce to Betsy. As always. Baby Celeste gave someone new a big, warm smile.

  "Celeste," Mama said. "this is Betsy. She's going to come live with us and be your new big sister. Isn't that nice?"

  "Betsy," Baby Celeste pronounced perfectly. Mr. Fletcher laughed.

  Betsy simply stared at her, her expression unchanging. Then she turned to me and her eyes darkened for a moment. I was still holding my breath.

  "Which room is mine?" Betsy asked Mama.

  "You're right here. dear," Mama said, stepping to the right and opening the door.

  I was surprised myself at how much Mama had done to the room. There were new white window curtains and the queen-size bed with the embossed rose on its headboard had a beautiful pink-and-white comforter and large, fluffy pillows. Unbeknownst to me was the placing of new dark pink carpet on the floor, part of what had been done while Baby Celeste and I were hiding in the turret room. I was actually somewhat jealous of the improvements. This room had a vanity table and a mirror as well. Mama had brought down standing lamps from the attic, and a large hickory-wood chest stood at the foot of the bed. I had always wanted that chest in my room. but Mama had told me it had once belonged to her grandmother and the scent of her body powders was still in it.

  "It's not the sort of furniture for a young man," she had said.

  "Beautiful room. Betsy," her father said. "Much nicer than the one you have now. isn't it?"

  "No. Its smaller. and besides, I'll be sleeping right next to a baby's room.Ill hear her whine all the time."

  "Baby Celeste doesn't whine," Mama said sharply.

  "Why do you refer to her as Baby Celeste instead of just Celeste?" Betsy demanded instantly. Actually, she pounced.

  "It's just a habit," Mama said, obviously stumbling on her answer.

  Betsy didn't seem to care what the answer was.

  "Wheres your room?" she asked me as if she thought I had a better arrangement. "Right there." I nodded at the opened doorway behind her and across the hall.

  She glanced at it and shook her head. "'Where's that stairway go?" She nodded toward the short stairway that led up to the turret room. "That looks far enough away,"

  "That goes to a storage room." Mama replied dryly. "And it's not a place to loiter in, much less use as a bedroom."

  "Who would want to loiter anywhere around here?" Betsy shot back.

  Mama looked to be counting to ten. Then she smiled again. "Noble, would you take the baby out for a while. She could use some air."

  "I'll bet. We could all use some air." Betsy remarked. "It smells in here."

  "Betsy!" Mr. Fletcher cried.

  "Well, it does. You burn that incense or something all the time., don't you?" she asked Mama.

  "Yes, but from what I understand, you haven't been sleeping in the sweetest-smelling places anyway, dear. I'm sure you'll get used to it."

  Betsy looked at her father. "Thanks a lot, Dad. I can just imagine the stories you've told about me."

  I took Baby Celeste into my arms and started down the stairs.

  "I'm going out. too," I heard Betsy say. She followed me down and out the door.

  I set Baby Celeste down on the porch floor and she went right for one of her dolls she had left in the rocking chair.

  "You're still not going to public school. right?" Betsy asked.

  She went to the railing and sat against it, putting her hands on it and straightening her shoulders. It brought up her breasts. I glanced at her, then looked at Baby Celeste, who had climbed into the rocking chair and held the doll in her lap just the way Mama and I often held her,

  "No. I got my high school equivalency two years ago."

  "So what are you going to do, babysit for the rest of your life?"

  "No. I don't babysit," I said sharply. "I help out once in a while, that's all."

  "Sure. 'Take the baby out. She needs some air,"' Betsy mocked, then laughed, "You still don't have any real friends, do you?"

  I didn't reply.

  "What do you do for fun? Plant frees or something?" "There is a lot to do here. I'm busy. And I read."

  She shook her head. "This is really the boondocks."

  "Why did you come back if you hate it so much?" I fired at her.

  "I won't stay long. I have to warm up to Daddy a bit. you know. Be nice and cooperative until he gives me some money and I can leave."

  "To where?"

  "Anywhere but here. What did your mother do to get him to want to marry her, cast one of her spells over him or something?"

  "She doesn't cast spells."

  "Elliot used to believe she did. He told me about you."

  The mention of Elliot brought the blood up my neck and warmed my cheeks so fast I had to turn away from her and look at Baby Celeste.

  "Rock." she said, "Rock me. Noble."

  I started to rock the chair gently and she hugged her doll and looked up at Betsy. "How old is that kid?"

  "She'll be three," I said.

  "She has hair like Elliot. How long's my father been poking around this place?" I didn't reply.

  "Is she my sister or not?'' she came right out and asked.

  "No. She's my cousin. Her parents were --"

  "Yeah. yeah. I know the fairy tale, I'm asking you for the truth."

  "That's the truth."

  "Fine." She looked about the farm. "I can't believe my father is actually going to go through with this. He wants to live here. He might as well check into a retirement home or something."

  "This is a beautiful place to live."

  She curled her lips and stepped away from the railing. "You have a cigarette?"

  "No. I don't smoke."

  "Right." She stared at me, then she smiled slowly. "I remember Elliot telling me about a time he brought some girls over to the house to smoke some weed and you ran away. Have you always been afraid of girls? Is that your problem?"

  "I'm not afraid of girls." "Oh, you have a girlfriend?''

  "No."

  "You go out on dates?"

  "What do you do, make love to herbal plants?" She laughed when I didn't reply. "This is so crazy," she said, looking around, then turning back to me. "Do you know where I was just recently?"

  I shook my head.

  "I was living in New Orleans. Ever hear of it?" "Of course."

  "My boyfriend was a trumpet player in a place in the French Quarter. We had a lot of fun, partied almost every night until four in the morning, and slept most of the day."

  "That doesn't sound like fun to me."

  "I bet it doesn't to you. Your idea of excitement around here is probably a flock of geese flying north."

  "If it was so much fun, why did you come home?" I asked, unable to hold back my anger.

  Now it was her turn to be silent.

  "I got bored," she finally replied.

  "Did you get bored or did your boyfriend get bored with you?"

  "Oh, you're so smart," she said, dropping the corners of her mouth the way I remembered she did. "Elliot told me how intelligent you wer
e. He used to think you were. something special. I don't know why he wanted to hang around with someone who hasn't been off the farm, but he did. You know, it was because of you that he drowned," she accused.

  Her words seized my breath. "What?"

  "If hee hadn't been friends with you. he wouldn't have been around that creek, spending so much time in the woods. He would have been with real friends in town or something. I don't know how my father could want to be here for the rest of his life and want to be a father to you," she said sharply.

  Tears were in her eyes, tears of sorrow, tears of disappointment, tears of self-pity-- all mixed in with tears of rage and jealousy.

  "That's not true," I said. "Elliot didn't die because of me."

  "Right. Oh, what's the difference now anyway? He's dead and gone."

  She sniffed and turned away.

  "Betsy," Baby Celeste said. When she looked at her. Baby Celeste held up her doll. "What does she want me to do with that?'

  "Hold it. She likes to share."

  "I haven't held a doll since I was her age."

  Baby Celeste's smile was magical. Even Betsy couldn't resist it. She stepped forward and took the doll.

  "What's her name?" she asked Baby Celeste.

  "Betsy," she replied.

  "Betsy? She named her doll Betsy?" she asked me.

  "I guess," I said.

  "'When?"

  "Just now. It means she likes you."

  "Oh, brother.'" Betsy looked at the doll. It was one of the dolls Taylor had given Mama. Betsy pulled the doll's dress down off her shoulders and turned her around slowly. Then she held the doll between her breasts and smiled. "I guess were proportionally the same. huh? What do you think. Noble man? Am I built as well as the doll? Is that what little Celeste here is trying to say?"

  I shook my head. Why was she teasing me like this? "Can't tell'?" she asked. smiling.

  I just stared at her.

  "Maybe you need to look closer." She stepped toward me. I actually looked to the side to run off, but she stepped to my right to block me, then she slowly lifted her faded T-shirt to show me her breasts.

  I couldn't swallow. I couldn't speak and I thought my heart had become stone. The front door handle rattled and she dropped her T-shirt quickly.

  "Later, well talk about it." she said, smiling, just as Mama and Mr. Fletcher stepped out,

  "How are we all doing?" Mr. Fletcher asked.

  "Just peachy keen. Daddy. Noble and I have been comparing bumps." "Bumps?" He looked at me and I looked down.

  "Yeah. Dad, you know. Who has flatter land, them or us?"

  "What?" Mr. Fletcher looked at me and I looked away. "All right, Betsy. Enough. Sarah and I have decided to talk about our wedding plans now. You can either spend time with Noble or go back to the house."

  "What would I do with Noble?"

  "Maybe he would show you the herbal garden."

  "Oh, wow, would you, Noble? You know what." she said before I could respond. "I don't know if I could stand so much excitement in one day. Do you mind if I pass today and do it some other day?"

  I looked at Mama. Her eves told me to stay calm and ignore Betsy.

  "Anytime you're free, Betsy," I said. "We have an herbal tea that might help you be more optimistic about yourself." Mama smiled,

  Betsy grimaced, then spun on her father. "I'll walk back," she said, shoved the doll back into Baby Celeste's hands, and started off the porch.

  "I won't be long," Mr. Fletcher called to her. "Don't go anywhere, Betsy, until I return."

  "Where would I go, the local 4-H Club? Later, Noble." She started down the driveway. "I'm sorry," Mr. Fletcher told Mama and me.

  "Its all right. Dave. We both know how difficult it is for a child to adjust to a totally new home and family. It takes time. but I'm sure it will all work out well," Mama said.

  "You're so understanding. Sarah. Betsy doesn't know what a gem she'll have for a new mother,"

  "Thank you. Dave. Noble, can you keep the baby occupied a while longer while Dave and I talk about the wedding plans?"

  "Yes. Mama."

  "Thank you."

  "Thank you. Noble," Mr. Fletcher added, and they went back into the house. "Betsy," Baby Celeste said, looking after her as she walked down the driveway.

  "Yes," I said. "Betsy!'

  I took Baby Celeste's hand and led her down and we walked about the farm. I returned to the garden with her and gave her a small hand spade. She watched and imitated me as I planted and prepared the soil. I felt the hairs suddenly stand up on the back of my neck and turned slowly toward the forest. I saw nothing for a moment, and then I saw him standing there, leaning against a tree with that smug arrogance written in his smile, just the way it had been when he'd Est come around to speak to me.

  Baby Celeste was looking in his direction. too. Was it because she saw me staring at the trees or was it because she saw him?

  "What is it. Celeste? What do you see?"

  She looked up at me and smiled. Then she returned to her digging.

  When I looked back. Elliot was gone. Would he haunt me forever and ever now? I wondered.

  I heard Mama calling to us from the house.

  "Come on. Celeste, we have to go in now," I said, and brushed off her dress and her hands. Then I carried her back,

  "We've decided on a date," Mama told me as soon as we entered the house. "Two weeks from this Saturday."

  "That soon? How will you get out invitations and get everything arranged so quickly?" I followed, not wanting to sound negative about it.

  "We have a very short guest list. Dave has no relatives he cares to invite, and we certainly don't have anyone who needs an invitation," she said.

  I looked at Mr. Fletcher. Did he understand Mama to mean that there would be relatives here, but in spirit, or simply no relatives we cared to invite?

  "I have a few friends from the store," Mr. Fletcher explained.

  "The ceremony will be simple and we'll have tables set up outside here," Mama continued.

  "I'd like it if you would be my best man," Mr. Fletcher said. I started to shake my head.

  "Of course he will, won't you. Noble?"

  "I don't know how to be a best man," I said, which I knew immediately was a dumb thing to say. They both laughed.

  "It's not too difficult in this case," Mr. Fletcher said. smiling. "I'll give you the wedding ring to hold, and when the time comes in the ceremony, you'll give it to me to put on your mother's finger."

  "We'd both like it very much if you would do that. Noble," Mama said. "Okay," I said.

  "Well, I'd better get over to the house and see what new crisis Betsy has created for

  me," Mr. Fletcher said, "She'll be better behaved tomorrow night. I promise. See you later.

  Noble. Bye, Celeste." He kissed her on the forehead. She smiled at him and he shook his head.

  "What a personality this child has. I wish those cousins of yours were alive to tell me the secret. I could have used it with my children." He kissed Mama on the cheek and went to his car.

  We watched him drive off.

  "I know you're worried," Mama said as soon as I looked at her. "But don't be. Betsy won't be a problem for us. She won't be any problem at all." She took Baby Celeste from my arms and went into the house.

  I wasn't sure why she had such confidence. but I had my first hint the next evening when Mr. Fletcher and Betsy came to dinner. I didn't know what he had said to her or threatened her with, but she was dressed nicely this time. She was wearing a bra, too, and a loose, light green blouse with a matching skirt and a pair of what looked to be brand-new shoes. Her hair was neatly brushed. She wore some lipstick, but nothing else. She was relatively sullen at the start, but she didn't make any sarcastic or nasty remarks. At what was obviously Mr. Fletcher's urging, she even offered to help serve our meal, but Mama told her she could be a guest tonight.

  "After were all living under one roof. well work out our responsibilities," Mama tol
d her.

  I could see it was on the tip of Betsy's tongue to come back with a smart remark, but she glanced at her father and then pressed her lips together like someone trying to keep from regurgitating.

  Mama had made one of Mr. Fletcher' s favorite meals, her meat loaf with garlic mashed potatoes. She had fresh, steamed string beans and homemade bread. For Betsy, Baby Celeste, and me, she had prepared fresh lemonade. She and Mr. Fletcher shared a bottle of red wine he had brought. Instead of serving family style as she usually did, however, she prepared each person's plate beforehand and brought it in.

  Mr. Fletcher immediately began to rave about the food. Betsy pecked at it to start, determined to not appreciate anything, but even she was unable to not enjoy what she was eating and was soon eating more enthusiastically. Mama and Mr. Fletcher talked about their wedding plans as if none of us were there.

  "I'm looking forward to you meeting my good friend Wyman Bogart," Mama told him. "He and I have been working together for some time. He's an old family friend, my oldest here."

  "I have a surprise for you," Mr. Fletcher said, winking at me. "You talked about him and his store so much. I went over there yesterday and picked out a beautiful wedding ring for you. And," he said, tilting his head. "he told me you had already done the same for me."

  "That was supposed to be a secret," Mama said, pretending to be upset.

  "Our days of keeping secrets from each other ended very quickly," Mr. Fletcher told her, and they both laughed.

  Betsy looked at me and dropped the corners of her mouth. Baby Celeste laughed along with Mama and Mr. Fletcher.. They continued to talk about the wedding. Mama's plans for the dinner, and the music they would have. Mr. Bogart, who had found the minister Mama wanted, also had a musician who played the accordion.

  "That's your music?" Betsy asked, finally speaking up. "An accordion?"

  "It's just to provide music while we eat really," Mama said.

  "Sounds like a terrific wedding," Betsy said, and scooped the last forkful of meat loaf into her mouth.

  "It's simple, but its full of meaning," Mama told her. Mr. Fletcher agreed.

  Betsy said nothing more. In fact, she suddenly looked more than just bored; she looked tired. droopy. Her eyes closed and opened, closed and opened.