“Please. There’s so much you don’t know. I suppose I shouldn’t hold her as responsible as I do. She was a European woman from a family where the women were always subservient to their men, and when you were married to a soldier like your father, you were trained and obedient.”

“Papa wasn’t a soldier.”

“Excusez-moi? He didn’t enlist or go to officers’ school, but he was in the Army from the day he was born. I remember my grandfather. You don’t. Emotions like love and compassion are signs of weakness. I never had any doubt that if your father was in his regiment, he wouldn’t hesitate to send him to the front lines, and if your father was killed in battle, he’d write a letter to your mother and himself with the same official stamp. That’s how your father grew up.”

“Why do you keep saying your father and your mother? They’re your parents, too.”

She just looked at me and smirked.

“Well, they are!”

“That thought had a quick death the moment I hit the street, M.”

M, I thought, and remembered. That was what she used to call me, not Emmie but just M. A flood of childhood memories started.

She looked away again, and for a while we rode in silence. The limousine emerged from the park. She pressed the intercom button.

“Take us to the address I gave you, Jeffery, s’il vous plaît.”

“Very good,” Jeffery said.

“How is our mother?”

“She hasn’t been well,” I said.

“In time, she’ll get better. He probably left orders.”

“No, I’m worried about her, even though she puts on a good act.”

She looked at me and smiled softly. She is so beautiful, I thought.

“You sound very mature. I’m not surprised. There wasn’t much time for childhood in Papa’s house. I have to admit that’s a good thing in today’s world.”

“Are you rich?” I asked, and she laughed.

“Let’s just say I’m comfortable.”

“I’ve been to your hotel before. I went there with a school friend to . . .”

“Spy?”

“To see you, learn about you.”

“What did you learn?”

“Nothing much, and I felt stupid doing it.”

“There’s not much for you to learn.”

The driver turned down our street. She leaned over to open her purse. I watched her pluck out the charm bracelet.

“You should keep it,” she said, handing it back to me.

“Are you going in to see Mama?” I asked when the limousine stopped in front of our house.

“No.”

“Why did you come to see me, then?”


Tags: V.C. Andrews The Forbidden Horror