DISCLAIMER: The broken camellias do have a symbolic meaning. Go to the Meaning of Most Flowers () to learn more
CHAPTER ELEVEN: GHOSTS IN THE SHADOWS
"I did love your mother, Spring," he said to me over dinner, after nearly ten minutes of barren, uncomfortable silence.
So startled was I, that I dropped my fork onto the floor. "I never doubted that you loved her, once," I replied, when I'd regained my composure.
"I still loved her even when I was...seeing other women," he continued.
"Mr. Danielson, I don't - "
"Please, call me Daddy?" he begged, his blue eyes rimmed with red, and sad, putting down his knife and fork. "I miss having someone around to call me Daddy, Spring."
"Daddy," I snapped bitterly, to appease him, "you treated me like crap. How can you just expect me to drop my life in Kennwood and come back?"
"I know I did, Spring, but I want to rebuild our lives together. I want to make it up to you."
I sighed, staring at the black speck in my water glass, disinterestedly. "The only thing that could make me happy would be if Mommy came back from the dead. Nothing can make me happy."
My adoptive father lowered his head, holding back his strawberry blond hair away from his forehead. For a second, I thought maybe I saw tears gather in the corners of his blue eyes, but he blinked them back. "I miss her, Spring. I still miss her."
"Maybe you should have thought about that before you brought Claire into your life," I said, angrily, hurtfully, tossing my napkin onto my plate. Right then, I didn't care if my words hurt him. I wanted him to be as hurt as I was. "I'm going to bed. I'm not hungry anymore."
"Spring, wait, I - " He grabbed my wrist as I got up from my chair and grabbed both of our plates.
"I'll tuck Brand in, ok?" I sighed, twisting my arm out of his grasp. As I turned my back on him to put the dishes in the kitchen, I whispered, "I don't hate you, Daddy."
I don't think he heard me.
I don't think he ever heard me.
***
After I tucked Brandon into his crib and sang him a lullaby, I retired to my own room and dressed for bed.
After reciting the prayers Mommy had taught me when I was just a little girl, I turned down my sheets and climbed into bed.
As I dozed away in a light slumber, the slumber before the dreams came, my door creaked open.
"Spring?"
I sat up in bed, my heart racing. "Mommy? Mommy, where are you?" I called out, holding a hand to my chest, feeling the thud of my heart through my skin.
Where my mommy had stood was a puddle of water, and the scent of broken pink camellias, Mommy's favorite flower, wafting in the air.
***
"It was only a dream," Daddy said, waving off my vision of Mommy the following morning. "Your mother is dead, Spring. There's no such thing as ghosts."
"I told you I saw her," I said, firmly, grinding my fists into my thighs to keep from screaming at his refusal to look at me, to hear me.
Daddy poured over the morning crosswords, sipping his coffee and pausing to take a bite of his scrambled eggs. "It's not possible, Spring. I thought you gave up on those fairy tales long ago."
"This isn't made up, Daddy," I snarled, slamming my fists into my thighs, and startling him into looking at me. "I saw her in my room, last night! She left a spot of water where she'd been standing! And I smelled her perfume, of camellias! I'm not making this up!"
Daddy put down his paper and coffee, and folded his hands in his lap. "Ok, so maybe you believe you saw Mommy - "
"I saw her," I snap, angrily. "Why won't you believe me?" I jumped up from my chair and grabbed my backpack, slinging it over my shoulders. "If I don't leave I'll be late for school. Good bye, Daddy."
I tore out the front door, slamming it behind me.
"Hey, Spring!"
I looked up to see Brad Anderson standing on his front porch with his mother, sipping a cup of coffee and biting into a donut. "Hi, Brad!" I walked over to Brad and his mother, to greet them. "How have you been?"
"We've been great," Margaret said, chipperly. "It's so nice to have you back for the fall."
"It's nice to be back," I said, shrugging, "although I plan on returning to Kennwood in the spring. I've worked everything out with my grandparents, and the school."
Brad smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "I'm glad you're back, Spring."
"Can we walk to school together?" I asked Margaret, smiling sweetly at her.
She nodded, eagerly, handing Brad his lunch money. "Have a good day, kids," she said, going back into the house.
"A lot has happened since you went to Kennwood," he said, as we started our trek to school. We passed my house, and saw my adoptive father standing in the living room window, arms crossed over his chest. Brad frowned. "How has life been since you moved back in to the house?"
"It's been...ok," I said, sighing. "I'm still so angry at him, at what he did. I'm almost glad Claire died, as horrible as that is."
"It's not horrible to think that, Spring. She did terrible things to you," Brad said, quickly, taking my hand in his. "In the end, she couldn't deal with herself, and she took her own life. She was very, very troubled."
"So, that's two wives who have committed suicide," I muttered, in reference to my adoptive father. "What a track record."
Brad put an arm around my shoulders and held me against his chest.
*************
When I got home, my adoptive father was sitting in the living room, holding baby Brandon on his lap.
"Hello, Spring. How was school?" he asked, getting up, resting my half-brother on his hip.
"It was ok," I replied, shrugging my shoulders. "I miss my friends at my other school. Have my grandparents called about me?"
He shook his head. "No, I'm sorry, Spring. They haven't called yet."
"Ok. I'm going up to my room then," I said, and hurried up the stairs, not waiting for a reply.
As I passed the west wing of the mansion, I thought I saw a figure in the shadows, and smelled the scent of Mommy's perfume.
Now, I was convinced I was sharing a house with a ghost.
*************
TBC
Alex