Shadows 01 April Shadows

by V. C. Andrews

  I realized the sobbing was coming from the living room and hurried there. I was shocked to find Brenda. Mama. and Uncle Palaver also in their robes. Brenda and Uncle Palaver were seated beside Mama, who was looking down on the coffee table, where columns of papers were neatly arranged.

  "What's going on?" I asked, my heart pumping so hard I thought my chest would split beneath my budding breasts.

  "Daddy's gone." Brenda said. and Mama fell back into Uncle Palaver's embrace. She closed her eyes.

  "Gone? What does that mean, gone?" I asked, embracing myself. A terrible chill had come over me like a splash of ice water.

  "Gone means no longer here," Brenda said dryly. "It means good-bye."

  "I don't understand." I said, now unable to stop myself from crying, too.

  Brenda looked down. Mama sucked back her sobs and sat up, wiping her cheeks.

  "Your father has left us. April," she said, speaking with such a lack of emotion it made me shudder to hear. "He has been planning this departure for some time, apparently. He sold his practice, for example, without my knowing anything about that, and all those cases he was supposedly working on were not true. He has provided us with a considerable flow of income. All the paperwork is right here," she said, touching one of the piles. "Neatly and competently arranged. I don't suppose there is a question unanswered when it comes to any of it.

  "He left like some rat deserting a ship, in fact," she continued with bitterness infecting her tone, "He didn't bother taking much of his own wardrobe. He left instructions for that, too, however." she added, pulling one folder from a column. "Uncle Palaver is welcome to whatever he wants, and the rest goes to the Angel View Thrift Shop to raise funds for needy sick children. He even left most of his personal jewelry."

  I walked farther into the living room and gazed down at the papers. I looked at Brenda, who turned away.

  "When did he do all this?" I asked through my quivering lips.

  "When? Much of it was done over the last month or weeks. I guess. Last night. I waited up for him, but he was busy arranging all this in his office. I finally knocked on his door and told him I was going to bed, and he said..." She started to cry again. Uncle Palaver held her firmly and kissed her hair. "Easy. Nora, easy," he urged softly.

  She got enough control of herself to continue. "And he said. 'Good night, Nora. Don't wait up for me.' Don't wait up for him. Don't wait up," she repeated.

  "Why did he do this? Where did he go?"

  "Don't be stupid," Brenda said, her voice dripping with venom. "Where do you think he's gone? He's off with some other woman."

  "But he can't be!" I cried. I looked at Uncle Palaver. His expression held no hope of it not being so. No matter how silly or inconsequential Daddy had thought Uncle Palaver's life to be, he was still a man of the world to me. He could and would see the reality of events I would or could not.

  He just shook his head in utter disbelief himself.

  "How could Daddy just walk out and forget all about us like this?" I moaned.

  "That's not the amazing part to me." Brenda said. "What is. then?" I asked quickly.

  She looked at Mama. "Tell her. Mama. Tell her what you discovered after you found all this."

  Mama looked up at me, her eves so red I thought she would cry blood soon. "He's been going through all the albums in the house. He's destroyed every picture of himself and cut himself out of every picture with us or with me, even our wedding photograph!" she shouted.

  It roared in my brain like a clap of thunder.

  I turned and looked over at the fireplace mantel. The picture of her and Daddy from their courting days was gone.

  "All of our family vacation videos are gone. too. I've looked everywhere. I did find the family albums in his office," Mama continued, taking deep breaths. "It was the first thing I saw when I realized he hadn't come to bed and had gotten up to find him. The office door was open, and the albums were there on the floor beside his desk. I went through the house looking for him and saw all these papers on the table."

  "I heard a cry." Uncle Palaver said. "and came out as fast as I could."

  "I did. too," Brenda told me. "Now I know why I couldn't find that picture I was describing to you earlier, the one where I received the trophy. I was going to put his smiling face on our door. remember?"

  It was as if they were reporting the actions they had taken after a major crime had been committed. I sank slowly to the floor to sit and stare at the papers on the coffee table.

  "He left a letter for us." Brenda added, the corners of her mouth dipping. She pushed the letter toward me.

  "A letter?"

  Mama started to cry again.

  I looked at her and then picked up the letter and read it.

  .

  Dear Nora, Brenda, and April,

  After a good deal of thought, I decided this was the bestway to handle the situation. What I -would like the most is for you all to forget me as quickly and as painlessly as you can. I know it's a strange request to make, but it has to be made for your sakes more than for mine.

  As you will see, you are -well taken care of financially and should have no worries on that score.

  I realize I cannot do worse than give you all grief and unhappiness, and thatwould be unfair to you.

  It is better that you go through a short period of sadness and even anger than live the way we are aIl living now

  Matt

  .

  Matt?

  He didn't even sign it Daddy, I thought. The letter shook in my trembling fingers. I put it down so quickly someone would have thought it burned. It did burn, but it burned in my heart. No one spoke, and then Brenda suddenly began to laugh. She laughed so hard tears came into her eves and ran out the corners.

  "How can you laugh now. Brenda?" Mama asked. astonished. Brenda continued to laugh.

  "Brenda!" Mama cried.

  Brenda stopped laughing and took a long, deep breath. "Don't you see. Mama? Don't you see?"

  "See what?"

  "Uncle Palaver did it. He made the stranger disappear. He's a wonderful magician after all."

  4 Daddy's Secret

  . Anyone who would have stepped into our home or seen our faces would surely conclude we were a family in mourning. Even Uncle Palaver, who seemed always to move within a bubble of childlike innocence coated with optimism and joy, held his head down, his eyes dimmed and dark. He did all he could to comfort Mama, but she was inconsolable.

  Despite what he had done. I didn't want to hate Daddy. I tried hard to push away those feelings. I felt more like someone who had been struck in the head, stunned, confused, and very lost. On the other hand. Brenda hardened even more, trailing bitterness behind her like someone tracking in mud wherever she went.

  "Let this be a real life lesson for you. April," she told me the following day. She was sitting in the living room, gazing out at the driveway and the basketball net and backboard where she and Daddy had played so many times. As if it knew how to dress our mood, the day was overcast and dreary. Shadows splashed all around us in a melancholy downpour.

  Brenda didn't look at me when she spoke. She kept her eyes fixed on the memories, I imagined. because I saw a different scene out there as well. I heard Daddy's laughter, saw him shake his head with surprise when Brenda dribbled past him or made an almost impossible shot.

  "We've got a real WNBA star here, April." he told me.

  I was jealous of their relationship, even though it was full of competitiveness. At least they were doing something together. All I could do was fetch the ball when it bounced off to one side or another and pass it to them. I was like a puppy waiting for a pat on the head. Sometimes it came; sometimes it didn't.

  "The worst thing you can do," Brenda continued, with her eyes still fixed on that basketball net. "is give yourself completely to anyone like Mama did. You can see what good that's done her. The truth is, there is no such thing as a perfect love."

  She turned to me. I was afraid to speak
or move. I had been wandering about the house all day, standing far minutes at a time in the doorway of Daddy's office, staring in at his desk and his books. He had taken or destroyed pictures of himself, but the room still said Daddy to me, even though it was resoundingly empty; it was truly as if Uncle Palaver had made him disappear.

  How could I still sense him so strongly if he wasn't going to reappear? I thought hopefully.

  "You want to know why there can never be a perfect love. April? I'll tell you why," she said before I could utter a sound. "We're all too selfish. That's why. Down deep inside, we're all too selfish. We can't resist pleasing ourselves. Just remember that. April. Brand it into your very soul," she told me, and turned to look out the window again.

  Mama was in her bedroom, the door closed, Uncle Palaver was in the guest room, probably trying to come up with some plan, some way to rescue the situation. I had cried as much as I could. My eyes were bankrupt.

  "Maybe we can find out where he went." I said.

  Brenda turned to me again, and for a moment. I thought I might have made a good suggestion. She looked as if she thought it was possible. Then she smiled, but it was that cold, plastic smile she could put on to signal she was about to throw a ball of thorns into someone's face.

  "What for. April? To beg him to come home? Do you even want him to come home after this? Well? Do you?"

  What could I say? I did. I wanted him back so we could change him, make him see how wonderful we rere and how wonderful his life had been with us. I still believed in us.

  "This is one of those life experiences that should help bury your childhood. April," Brenda said. "The days of candy canes, gumdrops, and bubbles are gone. You're going to grow up very quickly now. When you realize how alone you really are in this world, you grow up or you perish.

  "It's a lot like that out there on the basketball and volleyball courts. You depend on your teammates, but you have to deliver, and they have to deliver, or you lose. It's as simple as that, winning or losing. In the end, you know what only matters? The score. That's it. April, the score. All the rest of it is... is baloney. Forget that stuff about 'It's not whether you win or lose but how you play the game that counts.' It doesn't count in the end. People respect winners, not good losers.

  "We're not going to be good losers," she vowed, "Believe me, what Daddy has done is not going to make me a loser." She looked away, and then she turned back to me quickly, suddenly looking more like grouchy Daddy. "I don't want to see you moping about here and crying in the corners. either. Mama doesn't need it. Not only are we going to hold together: we're going to be better than ever. You hear me?" she practically shouted at me.

  I nodded.

  "Good. Anyone asks what happened, you tell them the truth, and go on doing whatever it is you have to do. You don't fail your tests and get into trouble in school like everyone will expect you to do. April. You study harder. I'm going to play harder," she said. "I'm going to win every trophy I can, because, in the end, that's what will tell Daddy what we really think of what he's done and what we really think of him. Understand? Do you?" she followed, her voice verging on out- and-out hysteria.

  "Yes, Brenda:"

  "Good. Good." she said, and blew air through her lips. She got up, "I'm going for a run." she said, "in case anyone asks where I am."

  She went to change into her running clothes and shoes. and I went to my room to do my homework. Usually, like everyone I knew. I left it for the last moment. but I wanted to be so occupied I couldn't think. A part of me continued to believe it was all just a bad dream or a misunderstanding. anyway. This couldn't be the end, the conclusion to all this. There had to be a better explanation and a better solution.

  In the late afternoon. Mama came out to work on our dinner. I went to help her. and Uncle Palaver sat at the kitchen table to watch and talk.

  "I've decided to hang around a little longer, Nora." he told Mama. "If that's all right with you."

  She stopped what she was doing. She wasn't crying anymore, but her face looked so drained and tired she seemed to have aged years in hours.

  "No. Warner. I don't want you canceling your show dates to stay here and babysit be fine." she said. "and it would only add to my unhappiness to know I was keeping you from developing your career."

  "My career," he said disdainfully.

  "It's what you enjoy. Warner. Don't put yourself down just because... because some other people did that. If you can make a living at what you love to do, you're a success," Mama insisted,

  Uncle Palaver smiled. "You were always my best cheerleader. Nora."

  "And I still am, so forget this idea about moping around the house."

  He nodded. "I can come back on my sweep west," he said.

  "Don't do anything that takes you off your track. Warner. Pm warning you."

  "Okay, okay."

  "When are you leaving. Uncle Palaver?" I asked.

  "I'm supposed to be in Raleigh tomorrow evening," he replied. "What about Destiny?" I asked.

  "She's meeting me there."

  "Then you'd better get an early start," Mama advised. "This weather isn't improving. They're predicting some storms." He nodded. "IT call you whenever I can." he promised.

  "We'll be fine," she said, and turned back to her dinner preparations.

  Uncle Palaver looked up at me and smiled, "Sure you will. You have two terrific young women at your side." he said. He pushed back the sleeves of his shirt. "Okay. April." he said, sitting forward. "Here we have a salt shaker and a pepper shaker.

  He put them together on the table.

  "I want you to move them to any place on this table," he told me, lifting them and handing them to me.

  Mama's smile made me move quickly to take them. "Go on, anywhere," he said.

  I put them down at the other end as far from him as I could get them.

  "Okay, let me concentrate a minute," he said, and closed his eyes while he squeezed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. Then he nodded. "I got it. Lift the salt shaker first," he said.

  I looked at Mama. What was he doing? She shrugged. and I lifted the salt shaker. There, beneath it, was a shiny new penny.

  "How could..."

  "Lift the pepper shaker," he told me. and I did the same, and there on the table was another shiny new penny. "Those are lucky pennies," he said. "Check them out,"

  I looked at them. There didn't seem to be anything different about them. Neither one looked like part of some trick but, of course. I had to be skeptical.

  "Mama, are these our salt and pepper shakers?" "They are." she said.

  "How did you do that. Uncle Palaver?"

  "A real magician never tells,' he said. "But I will this one time. I did it with magic."

  Mama laughed.

  It sounded so wonderful that it brought tears to my eves. How I wished Uncle Palaver could stay with us just to make us laugh again and again. but Brenda was right. We had only ourselves now.

  As always when Brenda did something athletic like going on a long run, she looked revived, not drained-- stronger, not weaker, and certainly not tired. She looked more fortified than ever. It was easy to see she was determined not to cry or even look upset. I had never seen her as talkative as she was at dinner that night. It was as if she were out to make sure there were no long, melancholy pauses in the conversation among us. She talked about her upcoming game against the champion of the North Carolina league and then, for the first time, revealed some career plans.

  "Of course. I hope I make the United States Olympic volleyball team someday, but I want to be sensible, too. I'm going to be a physical education instructor, only I'd like to be one at a college and not a high school. There are more dedicated young athletic girls in college. I'll enjoy that more. What do you think, Mama?" she asked, and Mama looked up with some surprise. We could see she wasn't prepared to involve herself in these sorts of serious questions yet. It was usually something Daddy initiated. He had the strongest opinions about it all, but sh
e struggled to clear her mind and think.

  "Sure, Brenda. That sounds very good. It's what you love, and like I told your uncle today," she added, looking at Uncle Palaver, "to do what you love and make a living at it is what I would call being successful. I guess, in fact," she continued, now that Brenda had forced her to think about other things beside Daddy. "I guess I'll consider returning to work myself."

  "That's a great idea," Brenda said, and looked at me with eyes that urged me to speak up as well.

  "Yes. Mama, that is a good idea."

  "I might even return to college myself one of these days and continue pursuit of a law degree," Mama added, buoyed by our enthusiasm.

  "You could pledge a sorority.'' Uncle Palaver joked.

  Was it a miracle? For a while, we were laughing, smiling, actually enjoying our food and one another's company. I was happy about that, but I also felt funny about it. I couldn't help listening for Daddy's car, for the garage door going up. I couldn't help imagining him stepping into the house and into the dining room doorway. The Daddy I was imagining was the old Daddy, the one who would joke and pretend to be upset that we had begun dinner without him. What's this? I heard him say. Did you really believe all that? Did you really believe I could leave my three girls?

  Brenda saw the way my gaze went to the doorway, and her eyes grew small with reprimand.

  There was a pause in the conversation and laughter.

  "Well," Mama said, reaching deeply for a long sigh. "I guess I had better prepare myself for the phone calls. This is a small community. You know how gossip flies. Of course, they'll all wonder how this could happen without my realizing it was going to, how he could leave his practice, set up another life, whatever he's done. I suppose I'll look like some stupid, vapid fool."

  "No," Brenda said. "He'll be the one who looks like a fool. Don't dare blame yourself for any of this. Mama."

  "No!" I cried.

  Mama smiled. "My cheerleaders. Warner." she said to Uncle Palaver.

  "I wish I had them with me," he said. He thought a moment. "The man has to be out of his mind to leave them behind. Brenda's right. In the end, people will pity him more."