When the Wind Blows (25 page)

“I am not,” Christie flared. What she was afraid of was the story Esperanza had told her that morning, but she didn’t want to admit it.

“Then come with us.”

Christie glanced from one face to the next, hoping
someone would come to her aid, but Susan Gillespie seemed suddenly entranced with the buttons on her shirt, while Steve Penrose whittled furiously on a stick. Only Jeff and Eddie Whitefawn were looking at her.

“Are you going?” she asked.

Jeff hesitated. He wanted to say no, but he couldn’t make himself do it. “I guess so,” he mumbled, privately wondering if he could find a way out of it. Eddie Whitefawn only shrugged.

“Then I’ll go, too,” Christie said, putting on a brave expression.

But inside, she was terrified.

   As Christie began walking home the wind came up, and by the time she got back to the ranch it was blowing hard from the west, buffeting her, and making her lean into it. When she finally got inside, she found Diana waiting for her, a strange look in her eyes.

“Where have you been?” she demanded. Christie stared at her, puzzled.

“At Jeff’s. Mrs. Crowley said she told you. Didn’t she?”

Diana tried to calm herself, but it was difficult. Most of the afternoon she had been fine, but half an hour ago, when the wind came down out of the mountains, she had begun to be nervous. Finally she had gone to the window, where she had watched for Christie, anger building in her with each passing minute. Christie should have been home by four, and it was now four-thirty.

She shouldn’t have let Christie go to Jeff’s. She was too young—much too young—much too young—to go off by herself.

“Come upstairs,” she said. “It’s time for your bath. We’re going out for dinner tonight.”

Christie’s eyes lit up. “We are? Where?”

“El Rancho. Dr. Henry’s taking us.”

Suddenly Christie remembered her plans for that night. What should she do? If she wasn’t home, she wouldn’t be able to meet the rest of the kids. But would they believe her when she told them what had happened?

Jay-Jay would accuse her of making up an excuse, and the other kids would believe Jay-Jay.

“Do I have to go?”

“Don’t you want to?” Diana asked, Christie’s objection only angering her further.

“I don’t like Mexican food,” Christie lied.

“Well, maybe Dr. Henry will take us someplace else.”

“What time will we be home?”

“I don’t know,” Diana said, her voice taking on a note of exasperation. “About ten, I should think.”

Her friends were going to meet at nine. Christie thought fast. “But I wanted to watch television tonight. Can’t I stay home with Miss Edna?”

Diana scowled at her. “No, you can’t, and that’s final. Now come upstairs so I can give you your bath.”

Obediently Christie followed Diana upstairs and let herself be undressed. Though she still didn’t like it, she was getting used to the idea that Aunt Diana liked to bathe her, and had stopped objecting to it. Besides, Diana seemed to be mad at her again, and she was frightened.

Diana filled the tub with water, and Christie got in and sat down. Diana soaped the washrag and began scrubbing her.

“There. Now your hair.”

Diana poured shampoo onto Christie’s hair and began massaging it. Some of the shampoo got into Christie’s eyes, and she began struggling.

“Hold still,” Diana said.

“But there’s soap in my eyes,” Christie complained. She began crying and rubbed furiously at her eyes.

“Stop that!” Diana snapped. “Good babies don’t cry!”

Christie, unable to see, tried to splash water on her face, but missed. Instead water cascaded down the front of Diana’s blouse.

“How dare you?” Diana demanded, a blind rage suddenly seizing her. Her right hand lashed out and caught Christie’s cheek.

Christie, terrified, screamed. The scream seemed only to intensify Diana’s rage.

She dropped the washrag from her hand and grabbed Christie, her hands closing around the child’s neck.

“Don’t do that,” she hissed between clenched teeth. “I can’t stand it when you cry! Do you understand me? I can’t stand it!”

Christie struggled desperately as Diana forced her head under the water, flailing her arms as she tried to get a grip on the edge of the tub. Her lungs felt as if they were going to burst, and she was sure she was going to drown.

Suddenly the bathroom door flew open.

Esperanza, her eyes wide, stared at the strange scene in the bathroom.

“Madre de Dios!”
she gasped. Moving as swiftly as her bulk would allow, she lunged for the tub and, pushing Diana aside, lifted Christie out of the water.

Coughing and choking, the terrified child shivered as Esperanza wrapped a towel around her.

“What happened?” Esperanza asked. Crouching on the floor, an ashen-faced Diana, her eyes wide, stared up at her.

“I was washing her hair,” Diana said, her voice faltering. “She got soap in her eyes and started struggling.” Her eyes, strangely blank, appealed to Esperanza. “It’s all right now, though, Esperanza.” Esperanza hesitated, and Diana shakily stood up. “Really, it’s all right. Thank you for helping me.”

Esperanza, her eyes narrowed with suspicion, reluctantly left the bathroom.

When she was gone, Diana reached out toward Christie, but the little girl shrank away from her.

“Let me dry you off,” Diana said, her voice low. Christie too terrified to object shivered as Diana began rubbing her body with the towel. When she was done, she wrapped the towel around Christie and picked her up.

“Can’t I get dressed now?” Christie begged.

“I’ll dress you, baby,” Diana told her. “I like to dress you. Won’t you let me?”

Christie’s heart pounded, and she nodded her head meekly.

Diana carried her up to the nursery and found a pink dress with ruffles. Christie looked at it and bit her lip.

“I hate that dress,” she whispered. “It makes me look like a baby.”

“But you are a baby,” Diana said. “You’re my sweet baby, and I want you to look pretty.”

Diana dressed Christie, then stood back to admire her. “Such a pretty baby,” she crooned, and the tone of her voice only frightened Christie more.

Outside, the wind howled down from the mountains.

Diana took Christie by the hand and led her down to the second floor, to her own room. She sat Christie on the bench in front of her vanity mirror.

She began combing the child’s hair, humming softly to herself. Christie tried to sit perfectly still, afraid that if she moved, something terrible would happen.

Slowly Christie’s hair began to dry, and when it was no longer damp, Diana parted it in the middle, then began weaving two large braids. Silently, her eyes wide, Christie watched in the mirror as Diana worked.

When the braids were done, Diana began winding
them together, piling them on top of Christie’s head and fastening them with large hairpins.

“There,” she said at last, stepping back. “How do you like it?”

Christie stared at herself in the mirror. The hairdo was an exact copy of Diana’s own.

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I liked it better when the braids were down.”

“But most little girls want to put their hair up like their mothers’,” Diana replied.

Christie started to protest that Diana was not her mother, but before she spoke she caught a glimpse of Diana’s face in the mirror.

There was something in Diana’s eyes that warned Christie not to argue.

“All right,” she said.

While Diana dressed, Christie went downstairs to the living room, where Edna Amber sat leafing through a magazine, her injured hand lying still in her lap. As the little girl came into the room Edna glanced up. Her eyes widening, she put the magazine aside.

“Good heavens, child,” she said. “What have you done to yourself?”

Christie squirmed with embarrassment.

“Aunt Diana did it,” she whispered.

“Well, it looks terrible. Come here.” Obediently Christie crossed the room and stood in front of Edna while the old lady pulled the pins from her hair and let the braids drop to her shoulders. “That’s better. Why did you let her do that?”

“She wanted to,” was all Christie could say.

“And why are you all dressed up?” Edna asked, suddenly suspicious.

“I’m going out to dinner with Aunt Diana and Dr. Henry.”

“Oh, you are, are you.” Edna replied. “Where’s Diana?”

“Upstairs,” Christie said, suddenly nervous. Edna thought for a moment, then spoke.

“You go up to your room. Stay there until I call you. Do you understand me?”

Christie nodded and was about to leave the room when Edna suddenly took her hand.

“Did she give you a bath?” she asked.

Again Christie nodded.

“All right,” Edna said, releasing her hand. “Now go on up, and stay there.”

Christie turned and left the room.

When she was gone, Edna sat still for a moment, then went to the foot of the stairs. “Diana? Diana!”

“In a minute, Mother.” Diana’s voice floated down the stairs. Impatiently Edna struck the bottom stair with her cane.

“Now!”

A moment later Diana hurried down the stairs.

Edna glared at her daughter, her blue eyes glinting.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded. Diana gazed at her, and Edna saw the strange empty look in her eyes.

“I’m getting ready for dinner,” Diana said, her voice oddly childlike.

“With that young man?”

“I told you, Mother.”

Edna’s eyes narrowed. “You told me nothing,” she said. “Ever since that child has been here, you’ve ignored me. You can’t do that, Diana.”

“Mama, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She glanced at the clock in the hall. “Mama, can’t we talk about this some other time? Bill will be here any minute.”

Edna’s voice dripped with sarcasm as she spoke. “And then you can take that little girl, and your man friend, and pretend you’re a family. Isn’t that right?” When Diana made no reply, Edna repeated her last words.
“Isn’t that right?”

“No, Mama,” Diana whimpered.

“Stop sniveling and look at me,” Edna snapped. Diana raised her eyes and met her mother’s. “She’s not your little girl, Diana. You don’t have a little girl. Do you understand me?”

“Mama—”

“Do you understand me?”
Her left hand struck Diana across the cheek.

Diana seemed to shrink within herself. “Yes, Mama,” she said softly.

“Very well, then,” Edna said. Her voice turned suddenly gentle. “Now go upstairs and finish dressing.”

Diana’s eyes brightened a little. “You mean I can go?” she asked.

“You can go,” Edna replied. “You can go out with your young man, but you must promise to be home by eleven. All right?”

Diana bobbed her head. “Yes, Mama.”

When Bill Henry arrived at six, Diana was in the living room, sitting primly on a straight-backed chair. It was Edna who opened the door for him.

“Dr. Henry,” Edna greeted him. “Diana’s waiting for you. Diana? Your young man is here.”

   Diana rose from her chair and came into the foyer. Bill smiled at her, then his smile faded. There was something in Diana’s eyes—what was it? They seemed blank—empty.

“Diana? Are you all right?”

Diana looked at him and smiled wanly. “I’m fine,” she said. “Shall we go?”

“What about Christie?” Bill asked. “Isn’t she coming?”

“Christie’s not feeling well,” Edna said smoothly. “You two go along now, and have a good time.” Bill and Diana started out the door. “Diana?” Diana turned back to face her mother. “Remember, be home by eleven.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Edna stood at the door until Bill’s car had left the driveway, then slowly closed it and went to the stairs.

“Christie?” she called. “You can come down now.”

A few minutes later Christie, dressed in her usual jeans and T-shirt, with her feet clad in sneakers, came down the stairs. “Are they gone?” she asked.

“They’re gone,” Edna told her. “Tonight the two of us will stay home by ourselves.”

   As they left the ranch Diana sighed heavily and straightened up on the seat next to Gill. He glanced over at her and forced a smile.

“What happened?” Bill asked. “Is Christie really sick?”

Dimly Diana remembered her mother talking to her, telling her something. But before that—nothing. She had been waiting for Christie to come home, and Christie had been late. She frowned and tried to remember, but it was all cloudy. Oh, God, she was having another of her memory lapses. She mustn’t let Bill know—mustn’t let anybody know.

“Her stomach was upset,” she explained, remembering her mother’s words. “I decided it would be best for her not to come.” Would it work? Would he believe her?

She heard Bill talking to her, but her mind was whirling. It was the second time she’d had one of her spells in three days. But what about the day she’d ridden up to the quarry and gone right past it? Had she had another of the strange spells? No, that day she’d just been daydreaming. Then she was aware that Bill was no longer talking. Was he waiting for her to say something? She had to pull herself together.
She had to
.

“Pardon me?” she asked.

“I said I could have taken a look at her,” Bill said.

“It’s nothing,” Diana said quickly. “She’ll be fine by morning.”

But there was a nervousness in her voice that told Bill there was something going on—something more than Diana had told him. If Christie’s stomach was as bad as Diana had made it sound, she would have asked him to look at the child. No, it was something else. Something in Diana’s eyes when he had picked her up. As if she weren’t quite aware of what was happening.

It worried him, as Miss Edna’s strange story had worried him.

   Joyce Crowley watched her son as he picked at his dinner. Finally, when he started to get up after barely touching his food, she spoke.

“All right young man. What’s going on?”

Jeff looked at his mother guiltily. “Nothing.”

“Don’t tell me nothing,” Joyce said. “You’ve been up to something, or are about to be. Which is it?”

“Nothing,” Jeff insisted. Now his father, too, was staring at him, and he shuffled his feet nervously.