DeBeers 04 Into the Woods

by V. C. Andrews

  It took nearly another two hours for her to find a dress she wanted. I was very surprised at her choice. She had nothing like it in her own wardrobe. It just wasn't her style, at least before today.

  The saleswoman told her the dress was based on a design especially made for a countess. It was a ballerina-length strapless dress of midnight blue with a dropped waistline. The bodice was draped with vertical pleats. The saleswoman explained that the bodice was embroidered with randomly placed diamante brilliants and the top layer of the tulle skirt was embroidered with diamante stars.

  The price tag read $2,500. I stared in disbelief when Mommy decided it was perfect.

  The shoes she chose sold for $1,100.

  For a moment I couldn't swallow. I said nothing as the clothing and the shoes were packaged for us. At the desk Mommy did not present her credit card. The saleswoman smiled and had a young man carry everything out to our car.

  When I asked Mommy why she didn't present her credit card, she said. "We have an account there. Don't worry about it. Grace. You look beautiful in your dress."

  An account there? What did that mean, we were on some sort of ritzy lay-away plan? I truly began to believe my mother had gone crazy. I was unable to concentrate on anything for the rest of the day. We were going to leave rather early for dinner. I thought, five o'clock. When I asked her why, she said that was part of Winston's surprise, and if she said any more she would spoil it for me.

  Mommy rested with cucumber slices on her eves for an hour and then showed me some of the new skin creams and lotions she had recently bought. While I listened and watched her go on and on about herself, her skin, her hair, the things she had learned about putting on makeup. I wondered if grief could cause schizophrenia. Who was this new woman in my mother's body?

  Once she had started on herself, she turned to me and sat me in front of the vanity table mirror in her room to supervise my makeup and hair. We were both dressed and ready by four forty-five. but Mommy kept returning to her room and her mirror for one final touch. Then she sat with that small smile playing on her lips and kept her anticipation focused on the street in front of our condo. Winston proved to be right on time again, the limousine gliding up to the curb exactly at five.

  Winston himself wore an elegant, stylish tuxedo. I thought he looked like a governor or a president.

  "Look at you two!" he cried the moment we stepped out of the condo, "I'm going to have rolls and rolls of pictures taken tonight."

  "Where are we going?" I asked, bursting.

  "You'll see." he said, his eyes twinkling with an impish glint.

  I couldn't help but feel the excitement as we glided onto the highway. I looked out the window, watching and waiting for some hint. When we turned toward the West Palm Beach airport. I looked at Mommy, who seemed as if she was about to explode with excitement herself.

  "What is this?" I asked. "We're going to the airport?"

  "It's the best way to let there." Winston said.

  "Get where?" I asked.

  "My favorite restaurant in the Bahamas. On Paradise Island." he said.

  I looked at them both. Was this some big joke?

  We were ushered through the airport to a private hangar and a private jet. Moments later we were seated.

  "Whose plane is this?" I asked.

  "I lease it along with a few other people," Winston explained. "Now you see why we had to have something special to wear tonight, Grace," Mommy said. She looked as if she was high on same powerful drug. Her eyes were shifting back and forth as she visually digested every little detail. We were offered something to drink. Mommy and Winston had champagne cocktails. Mommy said I could have one, too. but I chose a soft drink. My stomach was doing flip-flops as it was. and I knew what one alcoholic beverage could do to me.

  Minutes later we were off. and I gazed out the window at the lights below. I thought I should pinch myself to see if this was all really happening. Less than an hour later we were being driven to a beautiful hotel and a restaurant where there was a huge aquarium right in the dining room. We had the table that provided the best view. The staff fawned over us. The moment we lifted our eyes someone was there to ask if we needed anything. Surely kings and queens, princes and princesses, aren't treated any more regally, I thought.

  I could see that Winston truly enjoyed seeing the excitement, surprise, and pleasure in Mommy's and my faces. Despite his wealth and position, he spoke to everyone respectfully, no matter how low his or her rung on the ladder of service. It was also obvious that he was well blown here and everyone truly liked him.

  There was music at the restaurant, and during a lull in our dinner Winston asked Mommy to dance. She glanced at me nervously for a second and then smiled and went with him to the dance floor. As I watched them I thought about the way

  Daddy and she looked whenever I saw them dancing together. It would take them only a few moments to glide harmoniously into each other's movements, so that they soon looked like

  professionals. I was always taken with how other people were drawn to them and smiled softly to themselves.

  Mommy and Winston looked quite formal, but he was a graceful dancer who never lost his

  sophisticated elegance. They chatted as they danced. I wandered how they would be if I wasn't there watching them so closely.

  Just before dessert was served. Winston surprised me again, this time by asking me to dance with him. The music was quite a bit more upbeat. I started to shake my head.

  "Oh, go on. Grace. Have fun. You can do this sort of dance better than I can. Go on."

  Winston was up, holding his hand out to me. "Mademoiselle, may I?"

  It wasn't just that I was shy. Daddy always made sure to ask me to dance whenever I was with them at any occasion where we could dance..

  "Hey, Sailor Girl," he would say, "let's you and I show them how it's done."

  I stared at Winston Montgomery's hand, and then I swallowed away my tightened throat and took his fingers. They closed so quickly on mine it was as if I had stuck them into a trap. He escorted me to the floor, looking prim and proper, and then, without any warning, began to dance like a teenager. I couldn't help but laugh and get into it myself. When I looked at Mommy she was laughing so hard I could see tears of happiness streaking down her cheeks.

  "How did we do?" Winston asked her when the sonc, ended.

  "You blew everyone else off the floor." she said, then reached for me and kissed my cheek. "You look so beautiful. Grace. I just want to cry."

  She sat beside me on the plane afterward, and I rested my head against her shoulder. Everything about the evening still seemed unreal. magical. The limousine was there waiting for us on arrival, and moments later we were heading for home.

  "Go on ahead," Mommy said when we pulled up and the driver opened the door.

  I left her speaking softly to Winston and went into our condo. The light on our answering machine was blinking. I had just turned on the playback when Mommy entered behind me.

  There was a beep and then Dallas's voice. She was almost impossible to understand because she was speaking through tears and sobs.

  "Jackie... Phoebe was in a terrible car accident. She's alive, but a boy in the car was killed... the police told Warren she was high on pot. They found it in the car... she's in intensive care... Warren is beside himself"

  Mommy held her hands between her breasts and looked at me.

  "I know the boy, too. Mommy. I'm sure it was Roger Winston, the boy you saw with her at the restaurant. Oh. Mommy..."

  She hugged me. and we held on to each other for a few moments.

  "I'd better call Dallas," she said.

  I nodded and went to my room. All the fun, the excitement, the wonder of the evening leaked out of my body like air from a punctured balloon. I sat on my bed and stared at the floor. No matter how mean Phoebe was to me and to Mommy. I couldn't hate her enough to take any pleasure in this. and Roger, so handsome, with so much ahead of him...

  Ne
arly ten minutes later Mommy came to my door. I was still sitting on the bed. dazed.

  She looked even more terrible than she had before. "Is Phoebe dead. too?" I asked quickly.

  "No." she said. "But the boy who was killed... it wasn't Roger Winston, honey, I'm sorry. It was Randy Walker. He was in the rear seat, but he was thrown forward and into the windshield."

  It was as if the air had one out of the room and my lungs had filled with steam.

  I saw her face. I could see her lips moving, and then all went dark.

  12

  Twenty Dozen Roses

  .

  Of course I wondered what Randy had been

  doing in Phoebe's car. I thought they were mad at him for defending me. and I thought he would have nothing more to do with them. I couldn't imagine what had they promised him to get him to go along. I was sure they had amused themselves with his defense of me and his feelings for me.

  The accident was on everyone's mind and lips at school. As the details emerged I learned that Phoebe hadn't put on her seat belt, and even though her air bag had gone off, she had been thrown from the vehicle. Roger had his seat belt on, and the air bag saved his life and kept him from anything but some minor abrasions. Ashley had been in the car, too, but she had been thrown into the front seat which cushioned her impact. Even so, she had a broken arm. Fortunately, her sister wasn't along.

  The events laid a cloud of gloom over the student body, and the dark depression was heaviest and most noticeable at lunch. The ordinarily loud, cacophonous cafeteria was quite subdued, the clang of dishes, silverware, and pats and pans heard over every conversation. If someone laughed others stopped talking and looked his or her way, and the laugh was cut short.

  Of course we all knew that none of us was invulnerable. Death could come knocking on our doors any time it wished. The natural order of things-- birth, youth and strength, maturity and accomplishment, retirement and wisdom, age and death-- had been dramatically changed, however, and for a while at least each of us saw his or her own mortality reflected in poor Randy's passing. It was almost as if death had cheated and won unfairly, broken rules. It shook up our world, made the ground tremble beneath our feet, took the wind out of our sails, and left us drifting. The moment of silence the principal asked far over the PA system in the morning set the tone for the remainder of the day.

  I sensed that if it had been Phoebe who had died instantly instead of Randy, her friends surely would have turned their grief and anger in my direction, expecting that I would be pleased. After all, she had in a true sense declared war an me in this school, and it was to be assumed I would feel some kind of victory.

  However, they were all just as aware of how close Randy and I had become. Whatever condition Phoebe was in, she was still alive, and my closest ally was gone, an innocent, gentle person was gone. So instead of searching my face for glee, they fixed their eyes on me in anticipation of tears and gloom. For the most part they got it. Every time I looked at Randy's empty desk or turned in expectation of his coming up beside ine, my eyes glossed over and I eventually had to wipe a fugitive tear from my cheeks.

  By the end of the day Wally worked up the courage to speak to me. He caught up with me in the hallway after the final bell, "Hey," he said, touching my arm.

  I turned to him. For most of the day I felt as if I was just making the motions, moving in a

  semiconscious state, drifting, staring at nothing, rarely hearing the teachers' voices.

  "I just can't believe it," he said when I just looked at him. "I was almost in that car myself. I couldn't get away. My father had been doing stuff at the house.'

  "Lucky you." I said. He nodded and shifted his eves niftily toward the floor. "How's Roger?"

  "He'll be back in school tomorrow. He's just shaken up badly. I spoke to him at lunchtime. He asked about you."

  "He just thought... with what happened to Randy..."

  "Why did he go with them, Wally? I thought Phoebe was mad at him!"

  "I don't know," he said quickly, keeping his eyes down.

  "I don't believe you. I had just spoken with him, and he had told me she was upset at the way he was defending me.-

  "I don't know," he said, waving his head. Then he looked at me. "I think she told him they were trying to find a way to make friends, that it had all gone wrong and she wanted it to be right. Maybe she was teasing him. I don't know. You know how she can be."

  "Right. I know, and it didn't take me long. Look how long it's taking you."

  "No one wanted him to die. Grace. Man oh man, everyone's sick about it. especially Roger. He often tried to protect him. You saw that. He hated when I teased him."

  I softened a bit. That was tile. I thought. "How did this accident really happen, Wally?"

  "Hey," he said, holding up his hands, "I don't know. I wasn't there."

  "Right." I said. "hear no evil, see no evil." I turned to continue out of the building.

  "I don't know." he insisted, coming up beside me. "Roger said that she was just driving way too fast."

  "And that was all that was wrong with her?" I cross-examined, my eyes like steel,

  "He said she had some pot before they started out. but he thought it had worn off."

  I stopped walking. "You know what people do with situations like this. Wally?"

  He shook his head.

  "They go into self-denial. They actually lie to themselves so they won't feel bad. Or they look far someone else to blame. Randy's death is too heavy, even for someone as self-centered as Phoebe. If Roger asks about me again, you can tell him I'm fine. I didn't give Phoebe her way, and I'm not just as much at fault. Think you could remember all that?"

  He looked as if he was going to cry. He nodded.

  "Months from now when she's back behind the wheel of the new car she talked her father into buying for her and you're in the backseat, remember that," I said, and pivoted quickly to leave him behind. Fury gave wings to my feet. I walked and walked until I decided to catch a bus and go home.

  Mommy was there. She had just returned from the hospital where she had been keeping Dallas and Warren company. "Phoebe's going to be all right," she told me. It will be a long recuperation after which they will have to consider some cosmetic surgery. Warren's going to open the restaurant tomorrow. It's best that everyone get back to being normal and occupied. How were things at school?"

  "Dreary," I said.

  "Here I was hoping I had taken us from all the sadness and depression into a bright new world..." She shook her head.

  "Maybe we can't get away from it." I said bitterly, "Maybe it will be with us for the rest of our lives, or at least with me."

  "What kind of talk is that. Grace?"

  "Realistic." I said, and went to my bedroom. I threw myself on the bed and buried my face in the pillow. Was it my imagination, or was it true that everyone with whom I had come into some close contact suffered soon afterward, from Autumn to Augustus to Randy? Somewhere deep in the back of my mind I could see that sea gull twisting in the air, turning as if in distress and pain, flying off just before Daddy left on his training mission, the mission that would end with his death. Could someone have a curse on him or her? Was I a Jonah, always bringing bad vibes to people I cared for or became close friends with?

  Maybe I should become friends only with the people I don't like, I thought.

  Mommy knocked on my door. "Grace?" I turned and looked at her.

  "I don't like you talking like that. honey. I know you're hurting for your friend, but you can't beat up on yourself. That won't help. It just makes it all harder for everyone."

  "I can't help how I feel. Mommy."

  "I know. I just spoke with Winston. He feels terrible for us, and he's coming over in an hour to take us both out to dinner."

  "I don't want to go," I said sullenly.

  "Please. Grace. I won't have a good time knowing you're home pouting and sulking. We have to go on and try to find some enjoyment in life, too. I'm not goi
ng to let this continue," she said firmly.

  I looked up at her. "What continue?"

  "This downward spiral, this streak of bad luck and gloom. We don't deserve it."

  "Randy didn't deserve to die."

  "Of course not, but we can't change what happened, and it does him no good for us, for you, to let it bring you farther and further down. Fate will not have its way with us." she vowed. "Now put on something bright and joyful, and let's bring some sunshine back into our lives."

  "I can't," I wailed.

  "Grace." She stood there, her arms at her sides, her hands clenched in fists. "How do you think I do it? How do you think I woke up the morning after your father was killed and continued? I felt as if my insides had been kicked out. I wanted to jump into that grave with him. It would have been so much easier to pull the blanket over my head and deny, deny. deny. But life won't let you do that. Grace. And we're not going to be losers and sufferers forever." she declared.

  "Now you get up and join me and Winston, and you look at the world again, and you learn to take advantage of every opportunity, every blessing, every little stroke of luck that comes your way. Our days of sacrifice and pain are coming to an end." she predicted.

  I stared at her. I had been holding my breath the whole time she spoke. She looked so different I was sure if my father came back he would think he had entered the wrong house.

  "Something bright and joyful." she reminded me. She turned and left my room with such power in her footsteps I thought she had sucked out the air behind her.

  I went into the bathroom and looked at my glum face in the mirror. Of course I didn't want to wallow in sadness and defeat. I didn't want to wear the cloak of dark depression. I just didn't think I had Mommy's strength and ability to cast it off.

  I began with a hot shower. I fixed my hair. I chose a bright blue blouse and matching skirt and put on some lipstick. When I gazed at myself in the mirror. I still saw the shadows in my eyes. I tried to smile, but my face felt so brittle I thought it might shatter if I tried too hard.

  Mommy knocked on my door. "Winston is here. honey."

  "Coming." I called back. I glanced at myself once more and then joined her. She looked as beautiful as ever, and she was wearing something else new, an off-the-shoulder red silk dress with a high slit. She had a new pair of gold earrings and a pearl necklace I couldn't recall.