Page 16 of Secret Brother

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“Someone could have a little boy, and they don’t want him, and we lost Willie. It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not fair. That’s a lesson you have to learn in life. Things don’t happen just because they should or because it’s fair. You have to make things happen, even the right things, Clara Sue. So what about it? You should get out of the house, and I could use your help with the boy.”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Whatever. I’ll be going in about . . .” He looked at his watch. “A half hour.”

My Faith appeared. She looked at my plate.

“I ate all I could,” I said sullenly. She nodded. “It wasn’t any less delicious than ever.”

“No, that’s for sure,” Grandpa told her. “How’s Myra?”

“She fell asleep eating,” My Faith said.

“I’ll check on her later,” Grandpa said.

“I’ll check on her now,” I snapped, and got up before he could say anything.

“You want some of that peach pie you love?” My Faith called after me.

“I don’t love it,” I replied. “Willie loves it.”

The silence fell like thunder behind me.

4

When I looked at myself in the hallway mirror, I thought I looked more mean than mournful. I didn’t like that. It seemed a wrong feeling to have right now. My sorrow over Willie should make every other feeling do what my grandfather often said about things he didn’t think were as important: “take a backseat.”

I obviously had an expression on my face that drew Myra’s attention. The moment I opened her door, even though I did it softly and slightly, she looked at me, her eyes taking on that familiar curiosity, this time when she correctly suspected that something was bothering me more than what was to be expected following Willie’s funeral. I wasn’t surprised. Who, after all, knew me better than Myra? Even before my parents died, she had become like another grandmother to me. Having been my mother’s nanny for so long, she was as familiar as my grandmother Lucy had been with the gestures, expressions, and quirks I had inherited from my mother. Both of them often said, “You’re just like your mother.”

Myra lifted her good arm, and I ran to her bedside to let her take my hand.

“Someone said something that bothered you?” she asked. “One of your grandfather’s friends?”

“No. There’s no one here now but Grandpa. How are you?” I asked.

“I think I can now tell My Faith how Lazarus felt the moment he was awakened,” she replied, and struggled into a sitting position. “Let’s not talk about me, love. I’ll mend. I’ve had plenty of practice with sadness, as, unfortunately, you’ve had in so short a time. So? What is it? You look ready to take on the House of Commons.” She brushed strands of my hair away from my eyes.

“Grandpa wants me to go with him to the hospital to visit that poisoned boy tonight. He thinks I might get him to talk.”

She nodded. “Thought it might have something to do with that.” She sat back against her pillow but held on to my hand. “May I tell you something I’ve learned, love? There’s an abundance of mean, selfish, and uncharitable activity in this world. We’ll never lack for it, so we should always embrace the opposite wherever we find it. You’re not ready to care about anyone else. That’s understandable, but maybe you should think about it more for your grandfather than the little boy, as sad and horrible as his life is now.”

“That’s what Uncle Bobby was telling me.”

“My mum used to say you can spend your life coping with the unhappiness and disappointment you’ll experience, or you can spend more on the happiness and successes. Dad would tell her that was nothing more than seeing the glass half full and not half empty. Then they’d squabble about who said it better. They’d disagree over whether to put the milk in first or the tea, both quoting this king or that queen, but they loved each other to beat the band.”

I smiled. Being in Myra’s company was like walking out to a cloudy day and suddenly entering a burst of sunshine. I hoped she would always be here to cheer me up. “So you think I should go?”

“We’ll never forget our Willie, but it’s important now to get your mind on other things, too. I can’t say I’m not curious. Aren’t you? Where’d this boy come from? Did the man who brought him just find him lying about somewhere? Why was he afraid to tell anyone anything? Who’d want to poison a little boy, anyway? Unless it was by accident and they were afraid of getting blamed, of course, but why was he so thin and small?”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll go with him and let you know what I’ve learned.”

“I’ll be up and about when you come home. I just need a bit more of a rest. But I’m not taking those fog pills,” she added firmly.

I hugged her and went looking for Grandpa. He was on the phone in his office. When he saw me in the doorway, he put up his right forefinger.

“I’m heading there now in a little while,” he said into the phone, “but I don’t have much more to tell you. Suit yourself,” he added, and hung up.


Tags: V.C. Andrews Young Adult