Delia’s Crossing by V.C. Andrews Read Free Book Online

me, looking me over. Suddenly, she put her hands under my breasts and lifted them.
    “Why aren’t you wearing a bra?” she asked. I knew what she meant.
    “No lo tengo,” I told her, and she made a face.
    “See how they live, John.”
    “Your daughter doesn’t wear a bra most of the time,” he told her, and she spun on him. I picked up a word or two, and from the smirk on his face, I thought he was referring to my cousin.
    “She does when it’s proper to do so, John. It would have been proper for her family to have her wear a bra the first time she met me.”
    “But her parents were killed,” he said.
    I understood that he was defending me. Why was she so angry?
    “Her grandmother should have had the…oh, what the hell am I talking about? They don’t know anything about social etiquette back there. Tell her I’m having a bra sent to her room, and I want her wearing it all the time.”
    He did so, still smiling at me. I thought it was time to tell her or ask her to speak to me in Spanish.
    “I don’t know little English,” I said. “Please. Talk español. ”
    “How idiotic she sounds. You want me to speak español ?” she asked sweetly.
    I nodded.
    Without any warning, she brought her hand up and slapped me sharply across the face. The blow spun me around, and I had to catch myself on the arm of the sofa.
    “Never! Never tell me what to do!” she shouted. “Tell her, John.”
    He spoke quickly in Spanish, looking as terrified as I was. My eyes filled with tears, but I trapped them quickly. I would not cry. I held my palm against my cheek. It still stung.
    “Sit down!” she shouted, pointing to the chair, and I did so. She strutted about a moment with her arms folded under her breasts and then began dictating to the gentleman, who told me the following.
    “My name is Señor Baker. I’ve been Señora Dallas’s daughter’s tutor on and off for years, and now, anticipating your arrival after your family tragedy, she has hired me to tutor you in English. You are permitted to speak Spanish only with the servants and never in front of Señora Dallas and never again to Señora Dallas unless she so permits.
    “Furthermore, Mrs. Dallas wants you to forget your Mexican background immediately. Never talk about your family or the…slum village you come from. It is an embarrassment to her to have any reminders of it or of your family. Your cousins don’t speak Spanish very well, so don’t hope for that.
    “Eventually, Señora Dallas will make your adoption formal, and you will become a legal American citizen, but until then, you are to earn your bed and board here just like any other servant. Señora Rosario will show you where you sleep and will tell you what your duties are. You are not to wander about the property without permission or go into anyone else’s room without permission. You are to do your work properly and efficiently, and you will be held accountable for anything you break or damage.”
    “What about school?” I asked him.
    “Until you learn enough English to get by, you will not attend public school here. Those are your aunt’s specific orders. For the time being, until otherwise instructed, you are not to tell anyone that you are Señora Dallas’s niece.”
    What?
    I looked at her. Of course, she understood everything he was saying in Spanish, but she kept her face unchanged and stared at me.
    “ Por qué ?” I asked. I had to know why I couldn’t do that. She was my mother’s sister. We had the same blood.
    She muttered something to him that I couldn’t hear.
    “Señora Dallas is a woman of high regard in Palm Springs. She is very well respected and admired. She would find it an embarrassment for people here to know that she has such an uneducated, unwashed relative living under her roof.”
    “Unwashed?”
    “She doesn’t mean you’re dirty. It simply means unsophisticated, uneducated.”
    “I’m not uneducated. I go to school,” I said.
    “It’s not the same