The Unwelcomed Child

by V. C. Andrews

  My heart stopped and started when she turned my way.

  Grandfather Prescott was still well behind me. He would surely want to know how I knew her. She did a double take. I could see that she recognized me, but she had forgotten either who I was or where she had seen me. We didn’t talk to each other that much when I was at her house, and with her taking the slices of cucumber on and off her eyes, she probably didn’t get a long enough visual gulp. She smiled.

  How could I not be polite? I couldn’t just ignore her or pretend I didn’t know her.

  “Hello, Mrs. Spenser,” I said. She stared at me a moment with a beautiful, soft smile on her face and then nodded.

  “Oh, you’re . . . the girl from the forest,” she said, laughing. “I’m sorry, but I forgot your name.”

  “Elle,” I said.

  “Right. I don’t know how I could forget it. Mason doesn’t stop talking about you. I hope we’ll see you soon. I’ve got to get done here. I don’t normally dress like this, but I have a tennis lesson this afternoon,” she added, and started away just as Grandfather Prescott came around the aisle to catch up.

  “Sorry,” he said, throwing a box of steel-cut oatmeal into the cart. “Sam Marx keeps telling me how much better this is for you.”

  I looked at Mrs. Spenser bending over the meat case and made a quick right turn down another aisle.

  “We need some condiments,” I told my grandfather, and I deliberately lingered over jars and boxes, reading ingredients. He stood just behind, smiling at me.

  “You’re as good a shopper as your grandmother,” he said.

  By the time we made the turn toward the meat counter, Mrs. Spenser was gone. I kept my fingers crossed when it was time for us to go to the checkout counter. I didn’t see her anywhere and hoped she was gone. She was. She was out in the parking lot. I could see her putting her bags of groceries into the trunk of her car. Relieved, I no longer dallied but moved us along quickly.

  She had driven away by the time we went to Grandfather Prescott’s car. I breathed relief. My secret was still safe.

  When we got home, we were both surprised to see that Grandmother Myra was not downstairs waiting for us. While I put away the groceries, Grandfather Prescott went upstairs to check on her and returned to tell me she was sleeping. He shook his head.

  “Not like her to take a nap in the middle of the day,” he said. “She’d be working on lunch.”

  “I’ll make us a nice salad, Grandfather,” I said.

  He nodded, but I could see the worry deepening the lines in his face. I called him when everything was ready. He returned to the kitchen, and we sat at the kitchen table. I had remembered that he liked pieces of apple in his salad. He smiled when he saw it.

  “This is as good as ever,” he said. He kept looking toward the doorway and listening for Grandmother Myra’s steps on the stairway. “She hasn’t been the same since Deborah shocked us with her visit. She doesn’t like to admit it, but that girl’s desertion broke her heart, too.”

  “Wasn’t there any way to keep her home?” I asked. Without Grandmother Myra watching and listening, I felt I could ask more questions.

  “No. She never stopped being angry at us because we didn’t . . .”

  “Let her get an abortion.”

  He nodded. “If there was one thing that girl didn’t want to ever have to do, it was give birth, go through all that. I have no doubt she’s never gotten pregnant since.” Then he thought a moment. “She didn’t mention any other children to you, did she?”

  “No.”

  “She was always too selfish really to care about anyone else. Don’t ask me what we did to make her that way. We had high hopes for her. No matter what your grandmother tells you, you don’t have a child like that and not find fault with yourself.”

  I said nothing.

  He looked out the window and pointed to it with his fork. “Still quite a lot of beautiful day left for you, Elle. I’d come with you and stay with you for a while out there, but I’d better hang around and watch for her. Maybe I can get her to go to the doctor today.”

  “Okay, Grandfather,” I said, and began to clear off the table and wash the dishes and silverware. He stood watching me for a moment and then quietly, slumped over a bit more than usual when he walked, left to go to the living room. I went for my art materials, quickly put on Claudine’s bathing suit, and pulled my dress over it. Before I left, I looked in on him. He had his head back and his eyes closed. The house was so quiet. It had never seemed so quiet.

  Without knowing why, I practically tiptoed out the back door. Moments after I entered the forest, I heard Mason say, “I thought you’d never come.”

  I jumped with surprise, and he laughed. “Have you been waiting here long?” I asked.

  “Ever since my mother came home from shopping. Just before she left for a tennis lesson, she told me she had seen you and spoken to you. Do your grandparents know about Claudine and me now?”

  “No,” I said, looking back at the house. I wanted us to walk deeper into the forest. “I was just with my grandfather, and he didn’t see me talking to your mother. She looked very pretty.”

  “Too bad. I was hoping that soon I’d be able to ask you out on a real date.”

  We walked on. He took the easel from me to carry it.

  “You were at my house last night,” I said, keeping my eyes forward and walking.

  “Oh, you saw me? I wasn’t playing Peeping Tom or anything. I was just curious about your grandparents.” He stopped, and I stopped.

  “What?”

  “I was worried . . . about how they treat you. Claudine’s been on my case, telling me we should do something, talk to my father. But don’t worry,” he quickly added. “I made sure she wouldn’t do that. She knows how angry that would make me, and we don’t risk angering each other that much.”

  He started walking again.

  “I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t making a mistake, that they didn’t have you tied up and gagged or something. Claudine gives me nightmares. I guess all the bedrooms are upstairs?”

  “Yes,” I said. After what he had just said, I certainly didn’t want to tell him where and what my room was.

  “Anyway, Claudine went with my mother this afternoon, and my father is visiting with a local lawyer. They’re talking about merging some of their business. We’ve got a good two, three hours to be by ourselves. To the island?”

  “Okay,” I said, “but I have to be careful about getting too sunburned. My grandmother noticed.”

  “I brought sunblock, but we’ll pull the blanket back under the trees.”

  We reached the rowboat, and he began loading my things into it. Then he scooped me up and kissed me.

  “If I can kiss you forever like this, I’ll hold you forever,” he said. He kissed me again.

  “I believe you,” I said. “I believe you.”

  He laughed and lowered me into the boat. Moments later, we were moving softly toward what was now a magical place for me, even though it was barely big enough to call any sort of island. He pulled the boat up on the small beach and again lifted me out so he could kiss me. After we unloaded everything, he found a shady spot and spread out the blanket. He set up my easel in the shade.

  There was a slightly stronger breeze now. It wasn’t too warm or too cold. It was delightful. I felt it caressing my body, playing with strands of my hair.

  “Oh, I brought you this for when we go into the water,” he said, and held up Claudine’s bathing cap.

  “Thank you.”

  “Just keep working on your painting. I’m fine watching you and relaxing.” He lowered himself to the blanket. He put his arms behind his head, watched me, and dozed.

  I wanted to draw the ducks that Grandfather Prescott had suggested. They weren’t back yet, but the memory of them was strong enough for me to plan just where to place them. I did a half dozen and then began to paint them, concentrating hard so as not to ruin any other part of the painting.
When I looked at Mason, he seemed asleep. I smiled, studying him now unobserved. He was very good-looking. If we were in the same school and I had to compete for his attention, would I win it as easily as I had won it now?

  Quietly, I stopped painting and took off my dress. I put on Claudine’s swimming cap and stuffed as much of my hair under it as I could. He opened one of his eyes, saw what I had done, and sat up quickly.

  “Time for a swim break?”

  I nodded, and he took off his shirt and shorts. He was already barefoot. He was wearing a different bathing suit, a smaller, tighter one. He saw that it drew my attention.

  “Oh, this is my swim-team suit,” he said. “When you swim in competition, you want as little resistance in the water as possible. I know guys who shave their legs.”

  “Really?”

  He got to his feet and reached for my hand. When we walked into the water, he suddenly turned to me, embraced me, and tossed us both forward. I screamed, but he kept my face from going under.

  “Best to do it quickly,” he said, shaking the water off his hair and face. “Go on. Let’s see you start swimming on your own. I’ll be right close by.”

  Gingerly, I moved forward and began. I was surprised and excited at how well I was doing. Suddenly, I felt him seize my ankles and spread my legs a little as he moved in between and embraced me around my waist. I cried out and stood with my back to him. His hands moved up over my breasts as he brought his lips to the back of my neck and began kissing his way around, turning me as he did so. We kissed again.

  “Being with you is like discovering another country,” he said. “I feel like I’m just learning about it all myself. You’re fresh and beautiful, and because of that, you’re the most exciting girl I’ve ever known.”

  Listening to him, I suddenly wished Claudine were right beside us. One look at her face would tell me if I should believe him or not. But I realized I wasn’t going to have Claudine beside me once the summer ended and she and Mason returned to New York and I began school. I’d have to find my own well of wisdom from which to draw the right responses, the right feelings, and drink what was needed to make the right decisions. Right now, that well was bone-dry.

  Before I could say or do anything, Mason lifted me into his arms and slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, carried me out of the water and back to the blanket. He set me down gently. He went to his knees and then very slowly brought his lips to mine. This kiss was different. His tongue touched mine, and while he kissed me, he reached behind my shoulders and undid my top. Before I could utter a sound, his mouth moved down to my breasts. I closed my eyes and let my body relax, my head back.

  “You’re really very, very beautiful, Elle. I feel like I’ve discovered a precious jewel, a jewel I don’t want anyone else to share, even see. You mustn’t be afraid,” he added, stroking the side of my face. “Claudine is right. You’re so vulnerable. Some miserable bastard will try to take advantage of you. You have no experiences to draw on to protect yourself. I want you to understand how far to go, to know when you can’t turn back. Okay?”

  What he was saying was something I did think about often now. It was as if he had been to my grandparents’ house many times at night and had pressed his ear to the walls and heard me thinking, worrying, and wondering what it would be like and if I would, as my grandmother so feared, turn out to be just like my mother.

  I nodded.

  He began kissing me again, only now moving over my breasts to my stomach. He put his hands under my buttocks and lifted me gently so he could bring his lips to the insides of my thighs, lifting me like someone cupping cool, fresh water and drinking. When his lips pressed between my legs, I gasped. He moved his mouth gently but firmly. I felt myself weakening even more. When he lowered me back to the blanket, his fingers went under the waist of my bathing suit and began to lower it slowly. My eyes were closed the whole time.

  I could feel myself slipping, losing my grip on the side of a great chasm. My mother’s face flashed before me, those childish, rebellious eyes. I could almost hear her whispering, “Good. Come with me. Follow me. I’m waiting. You’re my daughter.”

  “No!” I cried, and seized Mason’s wrists. He stopped. My bathing suit was down over my thighs. I opened my eyes.

  He sat back, and to my surprise, he smiled. “Good,” he said. “I wasn’t going to go all the way, but I’m glad you stopped me. You understand what would come next. I’m pretty sure you don’t take any birth-control pills, and I didn’t show you that I was prepared.”

  The reality of what he was saying splashed cold water over me. I reached down to pull up my suit.

  He smiled. “I’m glad you aren’t as promiscuous as an innocent, inexperienced girl could be. Nevertheless,” he added, widening his smile, “you don’t know how I’m suffering right now.”

  “I think I can figure that out from the way I feel, too,” I said.

  He nodded, impressed. “This didn’t just happen, Elle. I planned this. Actually, Claudine told me to do it and challenged me. Don’t hate me for it. I was just showing you how easily someone could take advantage of you even if you’re not willing.”

  Was he telling me the truth, or was he just saying this because I had stopped him?

  “Another boy might have forced you. I could have pretended to stop but kept it up until your resistance weakened. Damn,” he said, shaking his head. “Just listen to me. Tonight I’ll beat my head against the wall remembering.”

  He turned over onto his back. I saw how excited he was. My body wasn’t cooling down as quickly as I thought it might. I reached back to fasten the top of the bathing suit. I didn’t know whether to thank him or be angry. Both feelings were grappling inside me.

  “Claudine said I owed it not only to you but to all the girls I pushed too far or teased or ignored to go as far as I did, but stop if you didn’t stop me.”

  He turned on his side to look at me.

  “She’s my conscience sometimes, just like I’m hers. You wouldn’t think it from the way we talk to each other and tease each other, I know, but it’s true.” He paused and stared at me a moment. “Are you mad at me?”

  “No,” I said. “I guess I should be mad at myself for letting it go as far as I did.”

  “No. You can’t blame yourself. I know this sounds conceited, but I’m not the easiest guy to reject. Hey, if you don’t know yourself, feel comfortable in your own shoes, you’ll fail in this world. My father taught me that.”

  “Conceit was what brought Lucifer to hell,” I said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Satan. He was an angel first, an angel jealous of God.”

  “Oh, right. You believe that stuff?”

  “It’s all I know,” I said.

  He nodded. “I’ll call you in ten years after you’ve been out there and see if you still take it all literally. I’ve got to go into the water for a few minutes. Cool down, if you know what I mean.”

  He rose, smiled, and went back into the lake. I watched him dunk himself and swim. I didn’t think my body was calm enough for me to return to my painting, but I went to it anyway. Whatever sexual explosions had taken place in me wanted me to put some suggestion of them in my scene. Grandmother Myra’s interpretation of one of the clouds gave me an idea. I put in another, making the strokes carefully. It began to take the shape of a boy and a girl side by side. I did my best to disguise it. Then I stepped back to look at it. Satisfied, I put the brush down. Mason was floating on his back. As quietly as I could, I returned to the lake, and before he realized I was there, I splashed him. He cried out and then laughed and began splashing me. He pursued me as I stumbled along and finally caught me. He pretended he was going to dunk me, and then he kissed me.

  He held me for a moment. Neither of us spoke, and then he said, “When you’re ready, I want to be the one.”

  I didn’t say anything, but I think he saw it in my eyes. Yes, you’ll be the one.

  After a few more minutes of swimming, we returned
to the small beach and began to pack up. He had brought towels. I dried myself quickly and decided it would be all right to take off my suit and roll it up so I didn’t have to worry about Grandmother Myra catching me wearing it. He didn’t turn away, but he didn’t say anything until I had my dress on.

  “I am definitely going to beat my head against that wall tonight,” he told me.

  “Not too hard. I want to see you again.”

  “You will. Oh, you will,” he swore.

  We got everything into the rowboat and very quietly, neither of us saying anything, began to move away from the small and now magical little island.

  When we reached my side of the shore, I asked him if he was going to tell Claudine everything. I had the sense that they really didn’t keep any secrets from each other.

  “Probably,” he admitted. “Just to prove to her that you’re not the foolish innocent she thinks you are and that I could restrain myself, too. She’ll ask you for sure, and she’ll know if you were lying, so no problem.”

  “Okay.”

  “Be prepared, however, to get a Claudine lecture and a dozen lessons on how to handle men. Admittedly, she knows of what she speaks. If she was a fighter pilot, she would have dozens of kills represented on her fuselage. Claudine has quite a fuselage.”

  “Didn’t she ever have one boyfriend for a while?”

  “When it comes to boys and sex, Claudine has ADD. You know what that is?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Attention deficit disorder. She loses interest, because she’s always thinking there’s someone better around the corner. When I tell her she’s probably thinking of me, she usually throws whatever’s available at me. Once that was nearly a dozen eggs.”

  As before, Mason wanted to walk me as close to my house as he could. While we walked, he told me more about his own romances, his ambitions, and why and how he and Claudine had become so independent and dependent on each other.

  “I suppose,” he said when we were very close to the end of the walk, “just like you, we were deserted in some important ways, but we also had ways to compensate. We love our parents, but we’ve never fooled each other when it comes to what we can and can’t expect from them. Hey, that’s just the way it is. ‘Live with it,’ Claudine always says.”