Free Cage of Love by V. C. Andrews Page B

years ago, and especially when she was sick?
    She was adamant about my not doing that. It was her life, her world, her pleasure.”
    “You had an angel,” Aunt Nadine admitted.

    “And I have her angelic daughter,” Daddy said, smiling at me.
    Aunt Nadine shook her head in defeat and left us, as did just about everyone who came to give Daddy advice during those days, weeks and months after Mommy’s death. Soon, they all gave up and Daddy dove deeper into his work.
    Daddy was a well-respected architect and had so much work, he had to turn down or farm out a great deal of it. He had an office in Gardner, New York, a small upstate town only five miles from our home. I attended the Gardner public school. In the years that followed Mommy’s premature passing, I grew four inches and developed into a mature young woman. I was courted by the dramatics teacher, the cheerleading coach, and the choral director, but every extracurricular activity required after-school practice and I had to go home to prepare Daddy’s dinner and look after the house chores. I looked after our clothes as well.
    It wasn’t often that I was able to go out to a movie or to a party, and whenever I was asked, I would hesitate and think of poor Daddy, all alone at home, staring at the television set or pretending to read, his eyes sometimes lingering so long on a page, it was obvious he was lost in deep thought. He would tell me to go, but when I would look at him unnoticed, I would see the emptiness in his eyes.
    There was a boy I liked at school and who I knew liked me very much. His name was Preston Forster, and he was a star player on our basketball team. A number of girls had crushes on him, most making that very obvious. I think he mistook my hesitation as a bit of arrogance. When we started to talk to each other more frankly, he revealed that he had thought I was stuck-up and was glad to discover my apparent aloofness or immunity from his “charm and good looks,” as he jokingly referred to it, was for another reason: my concern for my father.
    “Bring him to the next game,” he urged. I did, and Daddy enjoyed it. Afterward Preston asked me to go with him and some of the other members of the team and their girlfriends to get something to eat and listen to music. I looked at Daddy.
    “Go on,” he said. “You might want to come home early, though. We had planned on getting up early to go cross-country skiing. Of course, we don’t have to do that,” he said.
    “I’ll bring her home early, sir,” Preston said quickly.

    Daddy nodded and kissed me goodbye. When we started out, I saw him lumbering toward our car, his hands deep in his pockets, his head down. It put such a pain in my heart, I couldn’t go.
    “I really do have to get up at the crack of dawn, Preston,” I told him. “Maybe some other time.”
    “Hey,” he said, but I was already running to catch up with Daddy. “Magpie!” he said, surprised.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Nothing. I’m just tired and decided to go home with you, Daddy.”
    He smiled and talked continuously all the way home, telling me about his days as a basketball player at his high school. We did go to sleep shortly after we arrived home and we were up very early. It had snowed heavily all week, so there was a good pack of snow for our cross-country. We had so much fun together. Both our faces were red from the cold air and from the excitement. Later, we hovered over hot chocolates in front of our fireplace, and he wrapped a blanket around me and held me closely. He looked so contented, so at peace, and for the time being at least, not like a man who lived under a dark cloud of mourning.
    Preston surprised me by showing up late the following morning. He claimed he had just been in the neighborhood and decided to stop by. I asked him to stay for lunch, which he did. He and Daddy talked about basketball and then Preston and I took a walk around the farm. When I put on my coat, he asked me why we had an