“You must be patient,” Momma added before she left, more like fled.
Before Cathy could start, I thought I had better attack her, because I felt just like she felt, but I couldn’t show it. Of course, I wanted the twins out in the fresh air. We all needed it, but I told Cathy to stop picking on Momma, especially with her incessant questions, not one, by the way, that I hadn’t thought of myself. But what could I do? I had to be stronger. If I fell apart, it would all be lost, all this suffering for nothing.
Kane paused and dropped his arms to his sides, staring ahead for a moment. He looked different. Those impish eyes were suddenly dark and troubled. He sat with a posture I thought was stiff, even uncomfortable for him. Then he turned and looked at me with such a cold, impersonal expression I had to hold my breath.
“What?” I asked in a whisper. “Why did you stop reading?”
“What do you think of me?”
“You?”
“Christopher, I mean. Do you hate him? You have to hate him for defending her
, regardless of the reason. From what I read up to here, he’s always defending her, no matter what.”
“I don’t know. I don’t hate him for that, but I would imagine Cathy has to be angry at him for taking Corrine’s side all the time, especially now. However, she doesn’t understand the danger, the risks involved with what she’s asking her mother to do. It’s complicated, Kane.”
“Yes,” he said, nodding. My answer seemed to please him, although he didn’t smile. The pleasure was all in his eyes, the tiny movement at the corners of his mouth. “Of course, you’re right. She can’t understand the way Christopher can. She’s too young. He’s unselfish, that’s all. He can see the bigger picture. He has the vision.” He paused and looked like he was struggling with troubling thoughts again. “Although . . .”
“Although what?”
“He seems like he would forgive his mother for anything. She risked the health of the twins for three weeks, and yet he was kind of calm about that. His little brother and sister suffered unnecessarily. Kids that age need their mothers around the clock when they’re sick, and they needed to be in the sunshine. What good will all the money in the world do them if they’re physically and emotionally damaged? He knows that. Don’t you think he knows that?”
“Yes . . . but . . .”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, Kristin. At times, I feel like he almost worships her. Maybe it’s even more than that.”
“What do you mean by more? You suspect an Oedipus complex?”
“Maybe. Yes. But that’s not the full explanation. He wants to believe Corrine is doing the right thing for them so much he will avoid reality. And then sometimes I think he really believes her lies. I mean, come on. The old man’s about to die, but he can attend a Thanksgiving dinner? What’s with that?”
“I know. I wondered about that, too.”
“Actually, now that I give it more thought, Christopher’s pretty gullible for someone who is supposed to be so bright that he can become a doctor. I want to be on his side, but he bugs me with his understanding and forgiveness. Sorry if I show it when I read aloud.”
“It’s getting to you,” I said, nodding.
“It has gotten to me. I didn’t want to say anything this morning when you told me you hadn’t slept well. I had all sorts of nightmares after reading to catch up, especially after I read that part about Cory accidentally getting locked in that trunk. I’m not claustrophobic, but I don’t think I ever get into an elevator without wondering what I’d do if it broke down.” He looked at the diary in his hands. “Maybe you should be the one reading it aloud.”
“Oh, no, Kane, you read the diary well,” I said, and I smiled. “You even read Cathy well. Maybe you should go out for the spring play. Mr. Madeo would love you in the drama club, I’m sure.”
“No thanks. This is the only stage I want to be on right now, and with only you as an audience.” He laughed. “If any of my buddies knew what I was doing—”
“Which they’ll never know,” I said sharply.
“Not from me. That’s for sure.”
He stood up and looked around the attic with his shoulders up, embracing himself, and for the moment looking like someone who really was imprisoned, diminished by the small space and crawling into himself. He continued to look around, turning his head slowly and pausing at the windows.
“Even convicts in real prisons get time outside,” he muttered.
His gaze stopped when he reached me. It was as if he had forgotten that I was up here with him. He stared for a moment, and then his body seemed to fall back into the Kane I knew, his shoulders just a little slumped, his face framing that impish, offbeat smile that was so sexy.
“Speaking of spending time in an attic, however, I wouldn’t mind being locked in here with you for a while,” he said. He sounded more like himself again. He started toward me, his eyes full of passion.
I held up my hand like a traffic cop. “But I’m your sister,” I said, and he stopped. “Up here, as long as we’re up here, I’m your sister. We behave toward each other like they do; otherwise, your whole theory of why we’re here is lost.”
I wasn’t saying it to be impish or defensive. I really believed it now.