Into the Darkness by V.C. Andrews Page B

was still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. No matter how many times he had done it, she always acted surprised. I had asked her about that once, and she had thought a moment and said, “When you expect something all the time, take it for granted, it loses its heart. It becomes just something else in your life. I’m almost happy when I do wake up ahead of your father and he can’t get me that cup of coffee. I see the disappointment with himself in his face, but I also know he’s going to be very pleased the next morning when he beats me to it, and yes, I’ll be just as surprised.”
    Where did older women really get their wisdom? I wondered. Of course, not every woman I had met seemed to be as wise as my mother, but most knew stuff like that. Would I? Was this drag of a teenage life I was having going to ensure that I would not have enough wisdom to fall in love and have someone fall in love with me the way I expected and dreamed?
    I rose and took a quick shower, mostly to wakemyself up fully. Even though it had seemed to go by fast, it had not been a good night’s sleep, but I didn’t want my parents to wonder about it. I dressed and hurried down ahead of them to set the breakfast table. Mom followed. She and Dad had decided to have pancakes with bananas in them. We had wonderful Oregon maple syrup. In minutes, we were side by side working on breakfast. Usually, people didn’t go shopping at jewelry stores early in the morning, so we didn’t open until ten a.m. Our busiest hours were right before lunch and from midday to five. Most of the time, I remained behind with Dad, and Mom went home to make dinner, but there were many days when business slowed and he closed up himself.
    “What’s this interesting young man going to do with himself in Echo Lake this summer?” Dad asked when we were all around the table eating our pancakes.
    “I told you he said he had to stay close to home, watch over his mother. I imagine he has to do that especially when his father is so far away.”
    “How sad,” Mom said. “That doesn’t sound like much of a summer for him. You should introduce him to some of the other boys and girls in your class, invite some people over and introduce him.”
    “He didn’t seem all that interested in meeting anyone else,” I said.
    “Really?”
    I saw them glance at each other.
    “Well, give him time,” Dad said, finishing up. “You’ve got to warm up to a new home and a new town, get into it slowly, like a hot bath.”
    “How would you know that, Gregory, when you’ve barely slept a week outside of this town?” Mom asked.
    “I remember how hard it was that week, too. Wasn’t it our honeymoon?”
    “Oh, go on with you,” she said, shaking her head at him. She turned to me. “Now you can appreciate what it’s been like being with the same man day in and day out for twenty-two years.”
    “Has it been that long?” Dad asked her. She punched him gently on the shoulder, and he pretended to be in pain. Watching them made me wonder what it was like to wake up and face the day surrounded by gloom. From the way he had spoken, Brayden’s mornings were rarely anything but depressing. What would he do with himself here? Was he just too ashamed to show how much he really would like to be with others his age?
    I was doing just what I had told myself I would stop doing, wondering almost obsessively about him.
    My parents started out for the store ahead of me. My job was to stay behind and clean up the breakfast dishes and the kitchen. It was a little less than a mile to the village proper where our store was, and most days in the summer, we all walked. Dad said it was his only chance to get in any meaningful physical exercise. He and Mom went at a good pace, but they still looked as if they were walking mostly to be together as much as possible. Other girls were always telling me about my parents: “Actually still holding hands when they walk!” Most of the girls thought it was cute, but