“What the hell is this?” Cathy asked, suddenly realizing what had happened. “Is she changing? Did something Momma do change her mind about us? Did she decide she likes us or something?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Let’s wait to see what else she does.”
“Maybe we won’t be stuck here much longer,” Cathy said. Her whole demeanor changed. Her face brightened. I could see she was off and running with her plans for when we were let out into the world again.
“The first thing I will do is get to a phone and call my friends. They probably thought we were kidnapped by aliens or something. And I want a big fat chocolate ice cream cone before I eat anything else. I want to go to Momma’s beauty salon and have my hair washed and styled. I want to go shopping and get some new shoes, new dresses and blouses. I want—”
“Cathy,” I said sharply. The twins were beginning to listen. I nodded at them. “You’ll have them crying again.”
She looked at them and then at the door. “She’d better not be teasing us,” she threatened. “She’d better not.”
That idea hadn’t even occurred to me, but what if Cathy was right? Was she cruel enough to do that? She seemed cruel enough to do most anything. Did Momma know about these flowers? Was she holding out a promise just to see if we would lunge and claw and maybe prove to be the evil children she claimed we were?
“Let’s not think about it right now,” I said. “Let’s just take it a day at a time.”
“A day! Why don’t you say it the way it is, a week at a time, a month?”
“All right, calm down,” I said. “Please.”
She bit her lower lip and w
ent off to care for the flowers.
Despite my feeling the same conflicting emotions Cathy had obviously felt and my need to learn more and discover what this gift of flowers was all about, I had trouble keeping my eyes open. It wasn’t simply reading too much. I could read tons of history and science, especially compared with how much I had read of the diary, and not be as sleepy. It wasn’t the reading so much as the emotional involvement.
As I read, I felt myself getting tenser. It was draining. Subtly, in so many small ways, I had entered Foxworth and lived alongside Christopher, Cathy, and the twins. I felt like I was there, invisible, right beside them, seeing and feeling what they were seeing and feeling. All of it, but mainly having to care for their younger brother and sister, who were more fragile and confused, was simply too heavy a burden to bear. Christopher wasn’t giving in to it, but I could sense his fatigue.
All teenagers wanted to rush our lives, become old enough to do more and be more independent. We wanted adult responsibilities. We were always envying older girls who seemed to have far more control of their own lives, even the ones who hadn’t gone to college but were still living at home. They had no curfews, no rules beyond the rules they set for themselves, and certainly fewer lectures and chastisements to tolerate.
Who among us wanted to be younger? Who wanted to be told when to take a bath or a shower, when to eat and sleep, and where we could and couldn’t go? Who wanted all our decisions made for us and just to be content looking forward to birthdays and holidays? Who complained about not being able to pretend with dolls? No, none of us longed to be younger.
In a real way, Christopher and Cathy had been dragged back years when they were locked away in Foxworth. Everything they did and had was strictly controlled. Even the little independence they had begun to enjoy before coming to Foxworth was washed away. They had to eat, bathe, and sleep when they were told to, and they were submitted to more scrutiny than even when they were Carrie and Cory’s age. It was hard for Cathy because she was on the verge of becoming a young lady, and it was hard for Christopher because he was already light-years older than most boys and had really serious ambitions.
On the other hand, while they were being handled and treated as if they were infants, Christopher and Cathy were forced to be more like parents than siblings to the twins. They had to care for them as their parents would, and they bore the responsibility for their health and happiness. In a way, they were being pulled in two different directions. It had to have been exhausting. What would I have done?
Just thinking about it made me even more tired. My eyes closed like two window shutters being slammed shut. I fell asleep with the diary in my hand and didn’t wake up until I heard my father knocking on the door.
“Come in,” I called, and quickly put the diary under the blanket as I sat up.
“You okay?”
“Yes, I just . . .”
“Read too much?” he asked, standing with his arms crossed over his chest, looking down at me and nodding.
“Probably,” I said.
“I have a meeting with the architect and the new owner today. It will carry over into lunch.”
“Okay. Oh, I’m doing the picnic with Kane at the Foxworth lake,” I said, reminding myself as much as him.
“Well, the weatherman was right for a change. You’ve got the weather for it,” he said. “You be careful. Don’t go near the site.”
“We won’t.”
“Remember, your uncle Tommy’s coming tomorrow. Don’t make any other plans. He’s only here for one night.”
“I won’t. I can’t wait to see him.”