Hidden Jewel by V. C. Andrews

Author:V. C. Andrews [V. C. Andrews]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror
Published: 2011-06-12T18:02:46+00:00

But I heard it close, too.

"Pearl! Pearl, where are you?" Jack cried. Never was I so happy to hear another person's voice, especially his.

"In here, Jack!"

He came rushing in, dressed in a slick black raincoat and hat and knee-high boots. He carried a flashlight and had a bundle under his arm. "Are you all right?" he asked hurrying over. He put down the flashlight and swept his hat off. Then he brushed the rain off the back of his neck.

"This storm is so horrible and it came so fast," I complained through my chattering teeth.

"We had hurricane warnings coming in over the radio," he said. "The storm built up as it traveled inland." He took the bundle out from under his arm. It contained a blanket and a kerosene lamp, which he set on a table. "I saw you drive up and tried to get you to come to the trailer, but you didn't see me waving."

He took off his wet raincoat and put it on a chair just as a gust of wind slammed against the house. I released a small cry. Jack was at my side instantly. I welcomed his embrace and cuddled against the warm pocket between his arm and his chest.

"You poor thing. You're freezing," he said, rubbing my shoulders and arms vigorously.

My teeth stopped chattering. "Oh, Jack, what are we going to do?"

"We'll wait it out," he said. "But anything that's loose is going to fly away. Let me light the kerosene lamp." I lifted myself away so he could do so. Then he sat back and offered his arm again. I leaned into him. The illumination from the flickering lamp threw distorted shapes over the wall. They looked like the silhouettes of grotesque marionettes dangling on strings, moving to the rhythm of the wind.

"Warmer?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you. No one mentioned a hurricane," I said.

"Sometimes they creep up on us. Makes it exciting to live here," he added smiling.

"I think I can do without this sort of thrill."

He laughed. "Did your mother contact your aunt? She was obviously not there if you returned to Cypress Woods," he concluded.

"No. I'm sure she won't call or go there either. I met my aunt's mother," I said with a grimace.

"Gladys Tate?" I nodded. "I never saw her around here, but I heard she's a tough lady. Actually," he said after a moment, "the boys say she's the one who wears the pants in that family. Whenever Mr. Tate does come around here, he looks whipped. It's none of my business, so I don't pay much attention, as long as we all get what's coming to us when it's coming to us."

"I returned to my great-grandmere's old shack, and, Jack, someone has been there since Daddy and I were there. Whoever it was tore the place apart."

"Tore it apart? What do you mean?"

I described the furniture, the walls. "Why would someone do that to an old, deserted place?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said with a look of worry.

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