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

perhaps.”
    She paused and stared at me a moment. I held my gaze on her, my self-pride still firm.
    “We’ll see,” she said, and then marched out of the living room, her high heels tapping the travertine floor in a rhythm of rage, rage I neither appreciated nor understood. It was as if my very presence infuriated her. If this was so, why did she send for me? Why did she want me in her home? If she still hated her family so much, why did she want a living reminder of it right under her nose?
    Something told me, warned me, however, that I had just seen only the tip of the flame. There was quite a fire burning in her chest, a fire started years ago back in our village. Would I ever understand it?
    More important, would it consume me, or would I snuff it out before it could?
    “You can get more with honey than with vinegar,” my grandmother used to tell me. “Anger is easy. Kindness is harder but more rewarding.”
    I had seen the anger.
    Now I wondered, where was the kindness here?

4
Cleaning for Sophia
    S eñora Rosario told me to pick up my suitcase and follow her. I was surprised when she took me out a side door and led me to one of the buildings away from the house. I was anticipating going up the beautiful stairway to my room.
    “ Adónde vamos, Señora Rosario?” I asked.
    “In this building is a room for you,” she said as we walked toward it. “You will be responsible for cleaning up after yourself and keeping your things in order. You will share a bathroom with Señor Garman, Señora Dallas’s driver. I can tell you now that he is not happy about it. He’s never had to share his bathroom before, so don’t dilly-dally whenever you’re in there, and be sure you pick up after yourself, and never, ever touch any of his things.”
    So, that’s why he was so upset, I thought. There were so many bedrooms and so many bathrooms on this property, probably, and he had to share his with me. I wondered if Señora Rosario slept in this building, too, but before I could ask, she told me that she and the other servants lived in their own homes. Señor Garman and I would be the only servants sleeping on the property.
    Of course, I never considered that I was being brought here to be another servant. This was my family. Supposedly, I was going to have an aunt for a legal guardian, not an employer. I looked back at the beautiful hacienda longingly. I was not to have a grand room to myself after all. There was no way I could think of myself as part of this family now. In fact, I had just been warned that I couldn’t let anyone know I was related to Señora Dallas and her children. She had slapped me only once, but her words were far more stinging anyway. I was sure my ears were redder than my cheek.
    At least I no longer had to feel guilty about my parents’ deaths bringing me wonderful new opportunities. I felt more like a starving girl standing outside a restaurant, watching other people gorge themselves on rich and delicious foods. My suffering hadn’t ended. It might only have just begun.
    Now that I was closer, I could see that the building where I was to sleep was devoid of any style or character. It looked as if it had been thrown together in a rush, the dull brown stucco smeared quickly over the squared structure. It had a very ordinary front door and a dark, dank-looking, narrow hallway that took us to what would be my room.
    I stood there staring in at it. Ironically, I had enjoyed a bigger room with my grandmother back in our humble casa in our Mexican village. This room was stark and had only a single window. The floor was charcoal-painted concrete, cracked and pitted, with a rusty drain at the center. It wasn’t meant to be a bedroom, I thought. To the right was a single bed which now had a naked, stained mattress and a pillow without a pillow case. The bed had no sides, no headboard. It had been pushed against the wall. I saw spiderwebs in every corner, and the window looked as if it hadn’t been washed