"Martin, Ann M - Baby-sitters Club Mystery 005 - Mary Anne and the Secret in the Attic" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin Ann M)

I just made the corners of my mouth curve up, and I knew it probably looked fake. Dawn didn't notice. She was busy folding napkins. "Stacey and I went to the mall today, and I got the cutest jumpsuit," she said. "It's turquoise, with a wide black belt. Wait'11 you see it."
I didn't say anything, and she just kept on talking. "Stacey got the same one in pink. I think we're both going to wear them to school tomorrow. Or would that be dumb? Like we were trying to look like twins?"
This time I had to say something, since she'd asked me a question. "Uh, no. No, it sounds fine," I said.
"Mary Anne?" Dawn asked sharply, looking at me more closely. "Are you okay?"
I nodded, feeling like I might burst out crying if I tried to talk. "Sure?" she asked doubtfully. I nodded again, and she shrugged. "Okay," she said. "If you say so."
Dinner was kind of an ordeal. Luckily, everybody else seemed to be in a chatty mood, and for a while nobody noticed that I wasn't talking much.
"The man from Sears called," said Sharon. "Our new washing machine is in, and they can deliver it on Friday." "Great," said Dad. Then they got into a long
discussion about the old washing machine and its hilarious habits. Even Dawn had stories to tell, although she'll do almost anything to avoid doing laundry. They were talking and laughing and having a great old time with each other.
I sat silently, looking at my dad. This was the man who had given me away, the man who hadn't wanted me. But how did I end up living with him instead of with Verna and Bill, back in Iowa? Maybe the "angel" had turned into such a terrible child that my grandparents had decided they didn't want me either. Maybe they'd forced my father to take me back.
Dad wiped his eyes (he'd been laughing so hard he was crying) and gave me a curious look. "What's the matter, Mary Anne? Are you heartbroken at the thought of saying good-bye to that old washing machine?" That broke them up again, but I didn't even smile. Dad stopped laughing and looked at me again. "Are you all right, honey?" he asked.
It made me mad to hear him call me "honey." If I was his "honey," why had he given me away? A wave of sadness washed over me, but I tried to hide it. I put on my fake smile again and nodded. "I'm fine," I said.
Dawn put her hand to her mouth and whispered to Sharon and my dad. Something about me and Logan maybe getting in a fight.
They all nodded wisely.
"May I be excused?" I asked politely. I skipped dessert and went straight to my room, where I stayed for the rest of the evening, pretending to do homework. At one point I heard a soft knock on my door. "Yes?" I asked.
"It's me," said Dawn. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm here if you want to talk."
"Thanks," I said.
"Also," she went on, "Logan called a little while ago, but I told him you couldn't come to the phone. I figured that was the right thing to say."
"Fine," I said. Poor Logan. He must be wondering what was going on with me. I knew I should call him back, but I just didn't have the energy to pretend that everything was okay. I hoped I could explain the next time I saw him.
"Well, good night," said Dawn. She was treating me as if I were sick or something. I knew she would feel better if I told her what was going on, but I just wasn't ready to talk to anybody about it yet.
"Good night, Dawn," I said. "And thanks."
I got into bed and tried to read for a while,
but it was no use. I couldn't concentrate at all.
Finally I turned out the light and snuggled
under the covers, hoping that I'd fall asleep soon. Sleep would be a relief; I could stop thinking about my awful discovery.
I tossed and turned for a long, long time, but I must have fallen asleep eventually, because the next thing I knew, I was waking up with a start. "Mama!" I was saying. I'd had that dream again. In it, I'd been sitting on an old porch swing, between two people. The kitten was on my lap again, and I'd been patting its soft fur. But even though the people were there and the kitten was with me, I felt very alone.
I lay there for a minute, thinking about the dream. Then, suddenly, I sat straight up in bed. I'd realized something. That dream didn't come out of nowhere! It came out of my memory. That little girl was me, and the people were Verna and Bill. And the reason I felt so lonely was because I missed my mother and father.
I felt a tear slip down my cheek. That little girl hadn't even been old enough to realize that her mother had died Ч and that her father didn't want her anymore. All she knew was that they weren't there with her. It didn't matter that the people taking care of her were kind and gentle; they were strangers to her, and she felt lost.
I looked over at the clock. It was after two
A.M., but I knew there was no way I was going to be able to go back to sleep now that I had discovered the truth about my dream. And knowing one truth only made me hungry for more. It was time to return to the attic.
I found my flashlight and stepped quietly out of my room. The house was silent; everybody else was peacefully asleep. I opened the attic door carefully, so it wouldn't squeak, and closed it behind me as I slowly climbed the stairs. The flashlight beam was weak: it barely lit the way through the total darkness of the narrow staircase. I reached the top and flipped on the light. There was a sudden scurrying in the far corner of the attic, and my heart began to pound. "Just a squirrel," I whispered to myself. "Nothing to be afraid of." I tiptoed over to the chair and the boxes I'd left open. My heart was still racing, and I could hardly breathe in the musty stillness of the attic.
I reached into the box and pulled out a handful of letters. Then I sat down in the big chair. I held the letters tightly in one hand, looking at them. I took a deep breath and opened one of the letters.
"Dear Richard," it said. "Mary Anne grows and changes every day. Bill and I feel so lucky to have her." It went on to describe all the things I'd done recently: I'd patted the goat,
smiled at a neighbor, pulled the cat's tail (by accident!) Ч stuff like that. Then, at the end of the letter it said, "You can rest assured that you made the right decision when you sent Mary Anne to us. She'll grow up healthy and strong here."
I dosed my eyes tightly. It was so hard to believe that my father had given me up. Why had he done it?
I opened my eyes and read another letter. "Enclosed is a picture of Mary Anne on her first birthday," it said. "She is a delightful child." I felt another stab of pain. My father hadn't even been with me for my first birthday parry! I guess he just hadn't cared about me. I sat for a minute in the dark, stuffy attic, gathering my thoughts. Every letter I had read so far had only made the hurt worse. Should I keep reading, or should I stop? I felt shaky from lack of sleep. But I still had questions that hadn't been answered. Why had I been sent to my grandparents? How long had I stayed there? And why had I been sent back to Stoneybrook? I decided to keep reading.
"Dear Richard," said the next letter I picked up. "We understand your desire to spend some time with Mary Anne."
I heaved a huge sigh of relief when I read that. He had wanted to see me! I read on. "I'm afraid, though," it said, "that we feel
it would be too disruptive at this point for her to travel halfway across the country. Enclosed are some recent pictures. Perhaps they will satisfy your need to see your daughter."
I picked up another letter and read it eagerly. I was dying to know what happened next. "Dear Richard," it said. "There is no need to be so vehement. Of course we believe that you are now ready to be a father again. But are you really sure you are capable of taking care of a little girl as well as we can? After all, you are a man alone. A little girl needs more than just a father."
I held my breath as I picked up the next letter. Would my father insist on having me back? Would he fight for me? "Dear Richard," it said. "If you are sure you are ready to take care of your daughter, we are willing to let her come to you. But remember, you gave her to us. And we are not ready to let her out of our lives forever. We want you to show us she will be raised correctly. She is almost eighteen months old now, and we have given her what we could. We entrust her to your care for now. But remember, she is as much ours as yours."
I put down the letter Ч it was the last one in the bundle Ч and stared into the darkness of the attic. So my father had wanted me. Enough to insist on my return to Stoneybrook.
But my grandparents had wanted me, too. Did they have a legal claim to me? Maybe this explained why my father had been so strict with me when I was younger: he had to prove he was a fit father. Otherwise, I could have been returned to my grandparents' custody.
I wondered if they were still alive. What if they were? What if they still had a claim to me, and what if they decided to act on it? Suddenly, my whole life felt up in the air. Who did I belong to?
I couldn't believe I'd never known about any of this until now. Why hadn't I been told? Why had my father kept it such a secret? And other people must have known, too: Mimi, Kristy's mom, Claud's parents. Maybe Kristy's older brothers even knew! I felt angry. Why was I the last one to know about my own self?
It was all too much to take in. I leaned back in the chair, too exhausted to walk down the stairs and go back to bed. I thought for a long time about what I'd learned. I must have dozed off. The next thing I felt was the rising sun on my face. I had spent the night sleeping in that attic.
Chapter 8.
It wasn't easy getting through a day at school after sleeping in the attic. I was tired, for one thing, since I hadn't slept very long. Also, I had a terrible crick in my neck from sleeping in the chair. And, of course, I was still in shock about what I'd discovered reading those letters. All day, I felt incredibly strange and out of place. Nothing looked or felt familiar, and it took a lot of energy to remember where my classes were and how I was supposed to act around my friends. I wasn't thinking much about what I'd read in those letters; my mind was almost a blank. I didn't want to think about my past anymore. I realized I'd been better off before, not knowing.
I skipped lunch so I wouldn't have to sit with my friends. I knew I wouldn't be able to laugh at any of KristyТs nauseating jokes about the cafeteria food, or pay attention to Dawn when she talked about some cute boy in one
of her classes. I also didn't want to face Logan, and explain why I hadn't come to the phone the night before. It was easier to hide out in the library, reading Wuthering Heights for the millionth time and nibbling at my sandwich.
When school ended, I told Dawn I wouldn't be walking home with her because I wanted to clean out my locker. She gave me a weird look, but luckily she didn't question me. I dawdled for as long as I could, and then walked home slowly, kicking a stone the whole way. When I got home, I went right to my room and stayed there, patting Tigger and staring out the window over my bed.