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it: low gray clouds hovering above, the breeze warm

but strong enough to make the limbs of the sycamores

and oaks, willows and magnolias wave and bow along

the route. It was as if the whole world wanted to pay

its last respects to a fallen prince. Expensive cars lined

the streets in front of the church for blocks, and there

were droves of people, many forced to stand in the

doorway and on the church portico. Despite my anger

at Daphne, I couldn't help but be a little in awe of her,

of the elegant way she looked, of the manner in which

she carried herself and guided Gisselle and me through the ceremony, from the house to the church to

the cemetery.

I wanted so much to feel something intimate at

the funeral, to sense Daddy's presence, but with

Daphne's eyes on me constantly and with the

mourners staring at us as if we were some royal

family obligated to maintain the proper dignity and

perform according to their expectations, I found it

hard to think of Daddy in that shiny, expensive coffin.

At times, even I felt as if I were attending some sort of

elaborate state show, a public ceremony devoid of any

feeling.

When I did cry, I think I cried as much for

myself and for what my world and life would now be

without the father Grandmere Catherine had brought

back to me with her final revelations. This precious

gift of happiness and promise had been snatched away

by jealous Death, who always lingered about us,

watching and waiting for an opportunity to wrench us

away from all that made him realize how miserable


Tags: V.C. Andrews Landry Horror