Free Heaven in a Wildflower by Patricia Hagan Page A

concentrating.”
    Yes, I am, Anjele silently, mischievously responded, but not on playing the piano. Aloud, she lied. “I’m sorry, Miss Melora. I guess I’m just not feeling well today. You know, sometimes a girl has bad days.” Darting a sideways glance, she bit back a giggle over the way Mrs. Rabine blushed.
    “Well, then, I suppose we’ll make this a short lesson.” Melora got up and began to gather her things. “I suggest you have some hot lemonade and lie down.”
    As soon as Anjele heard the buggy leaving, she laughed out loud and promptly began to play from memory one of the songs she’d heard in the bayou that night.
    At the sound of the lively music, Claudia came running to shriek, “Where on earth did you learn that godless music? You…you’ll get the piano out of tune,” she sputtered.
    Anjele ignored her, continuing to play as she swayed back and forth in rhythm.
    “I said stop it!”
    Claudia charged to the piano, intending to slam down the keyboard cover, but Anjele caught her adopted sister’s wrist in time to keep her fingers from being smashed. “What do you think you’re doing? You could break my hands.”
    “If that’s all they can play, they deserve to be broken. Now get away from that piano.”
    Enough was enough. Anjele was sick of yielding. “You don’t tell me what to do, Claudia.”
    Their eyes locked in fiery challenge.
    Claudia was shaking, she was so mad. “You’re going to be sorry,” she whispered between clenched teeth. “You think you’re better than me because you aren’t adopted, but I’ll be the one to inherit BelleClair, wait and see. And one day, I’ll have Raymond, too. And you’ll have nothing, and…”
    Anjele had been slowly sliding across the bench away from her to get cautiously to her feet. There was a huge silver candelabra sitting on top of the piano, and she wouldn’t put it past Claudia to attempt to hit her with it. While she was used to Claudia’s temper and tantrums, never had she seen such a maniacal expression on her face, as though any second she’d go stark, raving mad.
    Kesia appeared in the doorway, took one look at the scene, and cried, “You girls, stop that fightin’ now, you hear me? I’m gonna tell Miz Twyla, and—”
    “That won’t be necessary, Kesia.” Twyla swept by her and into the music room. “I could hear them from my room.” With hands on her hips she looked from one to the other. “Well? What’s it about this time? I’m sick to death of this bickering.”
    Kesia discreetly disappeared as Claudia began to wail, “She was ruining my piano, banging on the keys, getting them all out of tune. I asked her to stop, and she wouldn’t, and she started calling me names, like always. She said it wasn’t my piano—”
    “It belongs to both of you.” Twyla sighed.
    “She said it was hers, that nothing in this house is mine, because I’m adopted, and I haven’t got a right to claim anything, that I don’t even have the right to be here, anyway, and when you and Daddy are dead, she’s going to see to it I’m thrown out. It’s not fair. And she’s mean and cruel, and I wish I’d never been born…”
    Pretending to burst into wild, uncontrollable sobs, Claudia rushed out, leaving Anjele to try and dig her way out of the grave of lies.
    “How could you be so cruel to your sister? How could you say such hurtful things?”
    “I didn’t,” Anjele denied futilely.
    Twyla pressed her fingertips against her throbbing temples. It was never going to end. As long as Anjele lived in the house, it would be this way. Peace would come only when Anjele got married and moved to New Orleans. Claudia, she knew, could be difficult at times, but the poor child had to be going through a terrible time, forced to endure that the man she fancied herself in love with was marrying her sister. “I’m so tired of all this,” she began slowly, “and if it doesn’t stop, I’m going to have to ask Ida if you can go ahead and move