Girl in the Shadows Read online

  I smiled to myself. Already I knew she would have a hard time surviving without Trevor

  Washington. When it came to him, she was all bark and no bite, although she would never admit it. I was sure it was the same for Trevor. Neither would admit how much he or she needed the other. but I could see they had grown used to each other's ways. They bobbed and swayed to keep their world in balance, each easily adjusting to the other's moods, twists, and turns.

  "This bread's delicious." I said. I had smeared what looked like homemade blackberry jam over it.

  "Better than that store bought stuff Trevor brings around from time to time," Mrs. Westington said. "That man would eat dog food if I didn't invite him to eat here with us."

  "I probably shouldn't eat so much," I said, pushing the plate away. I had already devoured two thick pieces. "I was supposed to be losing weight. I promised my uncle I would, He had a costume for me that I never could really fit into even though we both pretended I did."

  "Don't you think about any of that now. It's over and done with. You've been through enough grief and that eats away at you as it is. And don't you go on one of them newfangled diets while you're living here neither!" she warned, waving her cane. "People will say I starved you, and no one ever walked out of Loretta Westington's house hungry."

  I laughed. "I doubt that will happen, Mrs. Westington. I doubt I will ever look starved."

  She just grunted. She'd known me less than a week, but she knew enough not to bet on my having the discipline to trim down. Was I fat because I hated myself or did I hate myself because I was fat? It was like being caught screaming at your own screaming in an echo chamber.

  As soon as we both finished eating, I cleaned up our dishes and started to wash everything.

  "Just leave it for Lourdes," Mrs. Westington said. "I pay her too much as it is for what she does around here. Most of this house isn't used. I could replace her with a new vacuum cleaner."

  She didn't mean that, but for some reason, perhaps for many reasons, she was reluctant to say nice things about anyone or invest any faith in anyone. Maybe that was all related to her daughter and the way her daughter had treated her and her own daughter.

  She turned to Echo and signed to her that she should get ready for her lessons. She didn't have to repeat it. Echo's face filled with brightness and expectation. She hurried off to get her books together, but mostly. I saw, to fix her hair the best she could and even sneak on a little lipstick. I didn't think Mrs. Westington had any idea how Echo was developing a crush on her tutor. When she looked at Echo, she still saw the child and not the budding adolescent. She thought her only reason for interest in Tyler was educational.

  "There's proof that there are all sorts of hungers in this world," she told me, nodding after Echo. "That girl's starving for knowledge, You just watch her go at it, climbing over one obstacle after another."

  "I will." I said, and then I went out to see exactly what Trevor was doing, since she had mentioned it.

  He was standing in his section of grapevines, carefully plucking rapes and placing them in a basket. Even with the small section he had grown, this would take forever, I thought. He glanced at me and continued.

  The September sky had a bit of a haze but the sun was raining down its rays intensely. Small beads of sweat were shining like tiny pearls on Trevor's forehead. Age hadn't diminished him much. I thought. He was still a big man who looked very powerful, with a full head of stark and thick white hair. However, despite the size of his hands and the thickness of his fingers. I noticed he worked with a surgeon's accuracy and care.

  "Good morning," I said.

  "Morning. Sleep a little better?"

  Trevor was at breakfast the morning after Uncle Palaver's funeral, and he had seen the tossing and turning I had done through the night before scribbled all over my face and highlighted by my drooping eyelids.

  "Yes, thank you."

  He paused and looked at me. "Know anything about grapes and wine?"

  "Not much. I know there's red and white." I replied, and he laughed.

  "Don't forget rose. These grapes are

  Chardonnay grapes for white wine, which was the Westington's speciality. I didn't know much more about wine than you do when I first set foot on the property. I had just lost my job at a lumber company and that very day Mr. Frank, Frank Westington, stopped in to place an order for some lumber. He overheard me being laid off and asked me if I wanted to come work for him. He wasn't much older than I was, but he had just inherited all this and wanted to expand. He wasn't even married yet, Married Mrs. Westington five years later. Asked me to be his best man, which didn't please his younger brother. Arliss. much. By then they weren't even friends, much less brothers," he added, and plucked some more grapes.

  "Why was that?"

  "Oh, they got into a furious battle when their daddy left title to the house and property completely to Mr. Frank. His brother. Arliss, was a wasteful, lazy, and self-indulgent young man who thought everything was coming to him," he said, and leaned toward me to add. "That's who Rhona takes after. her uncle Arliss. Anyway, they were what Mrs. Westington called oil and water. Makes you wonder how they could have had the same daddy and mama." He looked at the house and then he leaned toward me and in a loud whisper said. "Makes you wonder if their mama didn't maybe look elsewhere once or twice. Sometimes, I thought the only thing they shared was a last name."

  I watched him return to picking the grapes. He had a way of doing it very quickly even though he handled each grape as if it were a valuable jewel. Later. I would hear him call the juice "liquid gold."

  "Isn't there an easier way to harvest the grapes?"

  "Easier? Sure. Better? No. I hand pick them and put them into small crates to protect them from being crushed in the field. Every step of this process is precious," he emphasized.

  "How come you only have this small patch acing?"

  He laughed and looked at the house. "She thinks it's because she's always yelling at me for wasting time on a dead cause, but the truth is the tight spacing encourages competition among the plants, yielding small clusters and berries, but more

  concentrated fruit. Here," he said, offering rile a grape. "Taste it."

  I did. "Sweet as honey. Like a fig or..."

  "Ripe apple?"

  "Yes," I said.

  He nodded. "Chardonnay is one of the few grapes that don't require blending. It stands on its own." He gestured at the small vineyard. "I cloned all these vines from the best Mr. Westington had."

  "Why didn't Mrs. Westington want to continue the whole vineyard and the winery?"

  "It wasn't her passion. It was Mr. Frank's and there wasn't anyone to inherit it. Certainly not Mr. Arliss and surely not Rhona. She never did any chores around here and had no interest in wine except to drink it with her friends."

  "How come they had only one child?"

  He continued to pluck the grapes without responding, so I thought he wasn't going to answer. A breeze had picked up from the north and the cooler air felt refreshing. I saw Echo standing behind the screen door looking out at the driveway in anxious

  anticipation of Tyler Monahan's pending arrival.

  "They had another child," Trevor suddenly replied. He worked as he spoke. "A son born after Rhona was born, but he was born with some defect in his brain stem and died a few days later. They did all they could. Mrs. Westington got so she denied the boy was ever born. Don't mention it to her. She never even gave him a name. Wouldn't do it. Mr. Frank named him after his father. Byron, but she didn't

  acknowledge it and she didn't attend the funeral or the burial. As far as I know, she never visited the g-rave either. After that, they had no more children. Closest I ever heard to why not was her saying once that she didn't need to be told twice. Don't you go mentioning any of this to her," Trevor warned me. "or you'll be one sorry young woman. Ain't nobody who hates gossip more than she does, although she'll do her fair share of it," he said with a wink.

 
We both turned at the sound of an automobile coming up the driveway. It was a red convertible sports car. Tyler Monahan's wavy long dark brown hair floated about his face, hiding his features. He parked in front of the house and got out quickly, a packet of books and notebooks under his ann. Echo immediately stepped out of the house to greet him, signing quickly. He signed back and almost entered the house without seeing me. He glanced our way and then he turned sharply and paused. I stared back at him almost as hard as he was staring at me. I knew from the picture of him and Echo in the living room that he had distinctly Asian characteristics. With a name like Monahan, his father had to be Irish, of course. The mixture of races had produced a strikingly handsome and interesting face.

  "That's her tutor," Trevor muttered.

  "Yes, I know," I said.

  Tyler looked about six feet tall. He was slim and very fit looking. He wore a light blue polo shirt and jeans with blue boat shoes. I thought he was going to wave at us, but instead, he brought his hand up to brush back his hair and then he turned and hurried up the steps to join Echo. They went into the house.

  Trevor glanced from them to me and then back to his grapes. "His mother comes from Hong Kong," he said, imagining my questions. 'She's a very independent woman, but family means a whole lot more to her than to most. No way he'd ever desert her like Rhona deserted Mrs. Westington and her own baby, However. Mrs. Westington ain't very fond of her," he paused to whisper. "Whenever she talks to her, she says the woman makes her feel like she suspects Mrs. Westington's got her hand in her back pocket, like she's going to steal away her son or something, as if she has secret plans to bring back the vineyard and needs his help. Stuff like that.'

  "Speaking of help, would you like some?" I asked.

  He laughed. "That's something I ain't heard much around here, Sure." He reached down for a basket and fixed the cord that held it around my neck. "Frees up both your hands." he said. 'Be gentle with them and don't just drop them hard into the basket. okay?"

  "Okay," I said, and began. I felt him watching me out of the corner of his eve. The grapes were like his babies.

  "That's good," he said. He looked back at the house. "Don't be surprised if she bawls you out for wasting your time."

  "It's not a waste of time to me. I'd like to learn all about the wine-making process."

  He shook his head. "That's something else I ain't heard much around here," he said.

  "Does Echo ever help you?"

  "No. I don't want to cause no problems. although I often see her sitting off to the side wishing I would ask. She knows about the winery and the process. You can't live here alongside me and not know it." He winked. "Take a letter," he said. and I laughed.

  I nearly had half a basket picked when I heard the screen door open and then heard Mrs. Westington call for me. "Stop wasting time out there and come meet Tyler Monahan," she shouted, tapping her cane. "You got more important things to do than waste your time with that foolish man. girl."

  "Go on," Trevor said. 'Before she skins me alive."

  I took off the basket cord and carefully set the basket down.

  "That man," Mrs. Westington said, glaring out at Trevor when I approached the steps. "He could talk a bee into stinging itself. Go on in and meet Tyler Monahan." she ordered, and stepped away from the door.

  I entered slowly and started down the hallway to what had been Mr. Westinton's office, but to my surprise. Tyler was waiting in the living room.

  "In here." I heard.

  I stepped in. Echo wasn't there. Tyler was standing by the window, his hands behind his back. He turned slowly and looked at me. I had no trouble understanding why Echo would have a deeply felt crush on him. A girl didn't have to be lonely or isolated to swoon before so handsome a man. He had eyes like black pearls, a firm, full, masculine mouth, and skin like smooth butter. Brenda would call him buff, and although she had little interest in men, would admire him for the respect he obviously had for his our well-being and physical fitness. His narrow waist made his chest and shoulders look bigger than they were. I doubted he had two ounces of fat on him. He made me more conscious of my own weight problem. I embraced myself and waited for him to speak. He fixed his brilliant pearl black eyes on me, scrutinizing and making me feel even more selfconscious.

  "Who are you?" he asked. It sounded more like a demand, especially in his deep, baritone voice.

  "My name is April Taylor." I didn't know what else to tell him exactly.

  "You're not claiming to be a long, lost relative?"

  'No. Mrs. Westington has asked me to stay here for a while and help her with Echo."

  Why was he cross-examining me like this?

  "You don't attend any school?"

  "Not presently. no."

  "You just want to pass a high school

  equivalency exam?"

  "Yes."

  He shook his head. "Why?"

  I looked away. His policemanlike questioning brought hot tears to my eyes. I fought hard to keep them locked under my lids.

  "It's a very long and painful story," I replied, not looking at him. "If it's a problem, forget about it."

  "I didn't say it's a problem. We don't know yet if it is or if it isn't. It's just weird, that's all."

  "Yeah, well, maybe it is, but that's the way it is right now." I told him, and glared back at him.

  "I'll have to prepare some evaluation exams to see what you know and don't know, where you are in the core subjects. It's not something that can be done in a week or two. How long are you staying?"

  "I'm not sure yet."

  "Well, if I did all this preparation and you left, it would be a colossal waste of my time."

  "I don't see myself as a waste of anyone's time."

  He considered me. We heard Mrs. Westington come back into the house.

  "Just a minute," he said, and went out to speak with her in the hallway. He spoke in a whisper, but loud enough for me to hear.

  "I don't understand this. Mrs. Westington. She's not related, and from the little you've told me, it looks like you've taken in a complete stranger who wanders about the country in a motor home, some sort of a gypsy girl?"

  "No, no. She's nothing like that. She was living with her uncle just like I told you and he died on the road. She came here for help and she's got no one else right now. She'll be good for Echo."

  "How do you low that? She might be a terrible influence on her. Echo's very vulnerable. She's had very little contact with the outside world. This girl might be the worst example for her. She just left school to go on the road with her uncle. Who knows what sort of riffraff she associated with and what sort of things she's done? She looks like..."

  "Don't worry about it. Tyler. When you reach my age." Mrs. Westington replied, "you know who has goodness in her heart and who doesn't. Believe me, you know who you should be trusting and who you shouldn't. That poor girl's been hauled over the coals. She needs a little tender loving care. As do we all."

  "I can't guarantee any success with her. I have no idea what her mental abilities are, what preparation she already has, what her reading ability especially is and..."

  "You just do the best you can. Tyler. I'll pay you for it, of course."

  "You're sure you want to do this? If she picks up and leaves after I've put in some time, you would have wasted money."

  "I'm sure."

  "I can't afford to give her too much extra time. You know my mother needs me and complains about the time I spend over here as it is," he warned. "And I don't like taking any attention and time away from Echo."

  "Give it what you can. Tyler." Mrs. Westington said, her voice filling with frustration and fatigue.

  I heard nothing else and then he returned to the living room.

  "Okay, I'll bring some testing materials tomorrow so we can evaluate you." he told me. "After that I'll be able to see if there is any way of

  successfully dealing with you."

  "Thank you," I said, even though "dealing with me" was
n't exactly how I wanted it put.

  "What kind of work were you doing with your uncle on the road?" he asked.

  "I was helping him with his magic and ventriloquist act. He was a well-known magician. Maybe you've heard of him, the Amazing Palaver?"

  "No. I never heard of him. I don't follow road acts," he said, twisting his mouth as if I had asked him about a stripper or something, "So you just ran off to live with him and put your high school education on hold?"

  "Something like that," I said.

  "You left in the middle of a semester?"

  "Yes."

  He looked at me and shook his head as if I was absolutely impossible to understand, Maybe I was.

  "Okay. I've got to get to Echo." He started out.

  "Can I watch?" I asked.

  "Watch? Watch what?" He had a way of grimacing that made me think he had something that tasted horrible on his lips.

  "How you teach her. I'd like to see what you do so that maybe I could help, too, maybe help her with her work when you're not here."

  He widened his smirk, drawing those almost too perfect lips deeply into their corners.

  "I'm not sure I want you to do that. You could confuse her if you don't teach her correctly and that could damage what I do and put her behind,"

  "That's why I'd better watch you, to see the right way to communicate with her." I countered quickly.

  "Do you know anything about signing, anything at all about how to communicate with a deaf person?"

  "No. I mean, a tiny bit.I'll learn," I added quickly.

  He thought a moment. "All right, You can come along, but just stay in the background, watch, and listen," he decided with obvious reluctance and walked out. I hurried after him.

  Was it me? Was there something about me that annoyed boys? Was I that distasteful, ugly, and fat?

  Echo was sitting patiently in front of the desk. She smiled at me when I appeared behind Tyler. He moved his chair around deliberately so that she would have her back to me and then he began siring quickly, so quickly I couldn't understand anything. Whatever he told her caused her to turn and look at me curiously. Then he tapped her knee and she turned back to him.