Daughter of Darkness (42 page)

I woke in the car. We were bouncing over the gravel road, because Buddy was driving so fast. I heard the tiny stones being kicked up into the wheel wells. Buddy didn’t know I was conscious. I could see how terrified he was. I groaned and sat up.

“What happened?” I asked.

“You fainted. I got out and got you into the car as quickly as I could and drove off. What happened in there? Why did you come running out like that?”

“Did anyone come after me?”

He shook his head. “But I wasn’t going to wait around to see.”

“Good.”

We reached the smooth macadam portion of the road, and he picked up more speed.

“So? Who was in there? What did you find out? But more important, what made you run to the car like that and faint?”

I wondered how much I wanted Buddy to know. I had no doubts in my mind about what his reaction would be if he knew I was literally my father’s daughter.
I was no orphan, and I had no parents who were normal human beings.

Lying had already become second nature to me. So much about the way we had lived depended on good and credible fabrication. Deception and darkness were our true guardians. None of us could survive if we didn’t develop the skills to be crafty and cunning. This was what Daddy meant when he had told me that darkness was our friend. He didn’t mean only the darkness that comes with night. He meant the darkness we could draw over our true faces, the darkness in which we could hide our true feelings, and the darkness through which we navigated during everyday life to avoid exposure.

I realized now that there was so much I had inherited from Daddy. I used to be jealous of Ava, who we were told was Daddy’s actual daughter. The resemblances I saw between him and her often disturbed me, because I wanted those resemblances, too. The very fact that I had not been told until now that he was my father, too, underscored how important it was for us to ration the truth. I didn’t know whose idea it had been to keep me and Marla believing we were simply orphans, but I saw the purpose. For however long we believed it, we were grateful and willing to be obedient and loyal and, of course, to make the sacrifices necessary always to protect Daddy. I didn’t know when Ava had been told the truth or why she was an exception, but I was sure it had to do with what Daddy and Mrs. Fennel sensed about her. Even I sensed something more about her, something that brought her closer to Mrs. Fennel. It occurred to me that perhaps Marla had been told the
truth just recently, and that was what had given her the self-confidence and the edge.

It all seemed to make sense to me now. Daddy was like the queen bee in a hive. He didn’t give birth, but he was the only one who could propagate his kind. All who surrounded him lived to defend and nourish him. This was what Ava and Mrs. Fennel always meant when they emphasized that I shouldn’t think of myself but only of my family. They reminded me of this whenever I felt sorry for myself because I wasn’t permitted to do the things girls my age were doing.

The compensation for this undying loyalty and sacrifice was true, however. I had just seen it. Yes, we would enjoy youth and beauty for decades, even centuries, longer than any normal human being. Yes, we would have anything we wanted, go anywhere we wanted, and satisfy all of our senses, our desires. We would never be frustrated or disappointed, unless we had what I thought I had, a longing to be loved and to love someone.

Whatever capacity for love my sisters possessed had to be directed toward and reserved for Daddy. He demanded all of it, for it was only then that he could be confident that they would never betray him or desert him or fail to provide for him. There was no girl anywhere who was more of a Daddy’s girl than we were and would be forever.

“Well?” Buddy asked.

“Daddy and Mrs. Fennel knew I would be coming there. They called ahead to warn them.”

“Really? But what was it like in there?”

“It’s a very special little orphanage. Daddy obviously
does a lot to support it, so whatever he asks for, they are sure to do.”

“What did he ask for?”

“He asked that they not be cooperative with me. They were nasty to me, in fact,” I said, thinking only of Ava.

“But why did you run out of there and faint?”

“I was persistent, probably too persistent, and one of their attendants frightened me.”

“Frightened you? After what you’ve been used to seeing? He must have been something else. What did he do, come after you with a knife or a gun or something?”

“I didn’t want to wait around to find out. It was very unpleasant for me, Buddy. I’m glad you didn’t go in with me, too. You would have lost your temper or something, and it would have turned out even worse.”

“Yeah, but you fainted.”

“I’m just tired, I guess, tired and weak. I should have eaten more. This has been terribly stressful.”

He nodded, but he didn’t look as if he believed everything completely. “Do you think I should take you to see a doctor?”

“Oh, no. I’m fine now.”

“So, what are you going to do now? Will you speak to the police back home?”

“Maybe. I’ll think about it on the way.”

“Good,” he said. He reached for my hand. “I’ll be right beside you, no matter what, Lorelei.”

“I know you will.”

“I’m sorry you came all this way and didn’t find out what you needed to find out. Maybe, once you see the
police and the police contact this orphanage, they’ll have to tell you things.”

“I hope so,” I said.

“Well, it’s late now. First thing I should do is get you something substantial to eat. Then we can see about a flight back, huh?”

“Yes, that sounds good.”

“You look tired,” he said.

“I didn’t get much sleep, and this was quite an added ordeal.”

He nodded and smiled. “Some warm food will help. Got to get you used to eating something other than that gruel your Mrs. Fennel gave you.”

“Yes. I want to avoid all the things she gave me,” I muttered.

We were back on a main highway leading to Portland.

“Hey, see that roadside restaurant up there on the right?” he asked after a few miles.

“Yes.”

“Look at all the trucks in the parking lot. Truckers know the best places to eat. My father always said that. Whenever we went on long rides, he would look for trucks in parking lots, and it always proved to be good.”

“Looks fine to me,” I said.

We pulled into the parking lot and parked next to a tractor-trailer.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Yes, fine. Let’s go eat,” I said.

The restaurant resembled an old-time diner with a long counter and booths with red leather seats. There was even a jukebox at the far end. It was crowded and
busy, but there was an empty booth on the right. A short woman with bushy white hair and thick-framed glasses greeted us and took us to the booth. She handed us menus.

“I can’t believe how hungry I am,” Buddy said.

“Tension builds your appetite,” I said. “Mrs. Fennel used to say…” I stopped myself. “Order me the meatloaf special. I’m going to the bathroom to wash up.”

“What do you want to drink?” he asked as I slid out.

“Oh. One of those lemonades.”

“Done deal,” he said, and I went to the bathroom. I splashed cold water on my face and looked at myself in the small mirror above the sink. What Buddy had observed earlier looked accurate to me, too. I did look older. It was as if I had aged a few years. Whatever innocence had once been in my eyes was gone and replaced with a cold, hard look. I had the face of someone who might not laugh for quite a long time, if ever again.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, I looked toward our booth. Buddy had his head in his hands, his elbows on the table. I was sure that this was the worst nightmare he had ever had and one that seemed not to have an ending. I told myself I had given in too easily when he had insisted on going with me. There were many reasons he was in danger now, and it had all begun with one thing. Ironically, Ava and Mrs. Fennel had been right. It was love that had brought Buddy here. Love could be poison when it involved us.

He looked up and smiled as I started for the table. “You all right?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m okay.”

“I ordered for you,” he said. The waitress had already served the lemonades. I sipped mine. “Better than before, right? This is really homemade.”

“Yes,” I said, smiling.

“I told you. Truck drivers know exactly where to go to eat on the highway. They have the instincts for it.”

“I’m sure they do.”

“I’m going to wash up, too,” he said. “Be right back.”

“Okay.”

He slipped out of the booth but paused to kiss me on the cheek. “I do love you, Lorelei,” he whispered.

“I know you do, and I love you.”

I watched him walk toward the men’s room, and then I looked out the window at our rental car. I saw the driver of the truck next to it start to get into his cab. As if by reflex rather than thought, I got up and walked quickly out of the restaurant and to our car. I opened the door, took out my bag, and knocked on the truck driver’s passenger-side door. Then I opened it.

“What’s up?” he asked. He was an African American man who looked to be about fifty, with graying black hair. He was tall and slim and had a white mustache.

“Would you give me a ride?”

“A ride? Where to?”

“Where are you going?”

He laughed. “Just anywhere but here, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Hop in,” he said.

I did, and closed the door. He put his truck in gear and started out of the parking lot. I looked back at the restaurant. Buddy had not yet returned to our booth.

“So, don’t tell me you’re running away from home?” the truck driver said.

“No. I think I’m running toward it.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Just that where I belong is somewhere out there,” I said, nodding at the road ahead.

He laughed. “You young kids today,” he said, shaking his head. “What’s your name?”

“Lorelei.”

“That’s a beautiful name. My mother and father decided to call me Moses. Hey, maybe I’m taking you to the Promised Land.”

“Maybe,” I said. “I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

Ahead, the road seemed to stretch toward forever. The lights of the truck parted the darkness and drove it back. That gave me hope. Maybe I could be just as comfortable, if not more so, in the sunshine.

“Can’t imagine what would put a girl as pretty as you on the road,” Moses said.

“No. You could never imagine it.”

Moses laughed. It was melodic and beautiful.

I heard myself laugh, too.

It was like hearing the laughter of someone I once knew, someone who was truly going home.