Darkling Read Online Free PDF Page B

been mocked for that. Mimi the Mouse was one nickname, because I was quiet.
    The last laugh was mine; I now had probably the best job in town—room, board, a very generous salary, and the pleasure of being with the Hendersons. I also had the advantage of knowing which kids to guide Margo away from, though I wasn’t always successful. She was sixteen and determined to prove she was grown.
    The house settled into a soft quiet. I thought to stop by Margo’s room and speak with her. I knew she was sore about the dressing-down Bob must have given her. While I didn’t approve of her conduct, I did understand that sharing is something that doesn’t come easily when love is at stake. To Margo, Annie was an unnecessary interloper who sucked up the air and the love and the attention. In a way, I agreed with that thought. But no matter, Annie was here and Berta meant for us to be kind to her.
    I crept down the hallway, listening to the sighs and whispers of the house as the timber contracted in the cooling night. At times, I would have sworn the house had a consciousness. It sheltered the Hendersons, holding them close.
    Margo and Erin shared a room large enough to include two desks and chairs, beds, their own private bath, and a game table as well as dressers and vanities. There wasn’t a sound from the sisters. I cracked the door and peeked in. Both girls had agreed upon the blue-checked bedspreads and décor, but Margo had outgrown the childish frills. Each daughter was bundled under her checked spread, sound asleep. I eased the door closed.
    Part of Margo’s anger at Annie’s arrival involved the third floor. It had been promised to Margo once Bob finished the renovation. Now Annie was installed there and Margo was stuck with her kid sister.
    Farther down near the stairs and across the hall from me was Donald’s bedroom, a true boy’s paradise of model planes, erector set creations, toy soldiers, and a train that ran around the entire room. Often, in the middle of the night, if I heard him stirring, I went to his room and told him stories until he fell asleep. It wasn’t part of my job, but I enjoyed those times when it was just the two of us. Donald was an intuitive child. I thought he was Berta’s favorite, and he was certainly mine.
    Moving downstairs, I paused outside Bob and Berta’s master suite. Berta had wisely chosen the bedroom that controlled the stairs and the front door. Even the best children are prone to mischief. It also gave the adults a bit of privacy, since the master suite was accessed only from a hallway that ended in the bedroom.
    Sometimes, late at night, if I went to the kitchen for a glass of milk or an apple, I would pause outside their door and listen to them giggling like children. I wasn’t really spying, but I couldn’t help my fascination with their marriage. I’d seen Bob work his magic on Berta when she was in a bad mood. A whisper, a kiss, a tickle—he had a way with her. If I ever married, I wanted a man just like Bob. Tonight, though, they’d fallen asleep, judging from the lack of sound. It seemed I was the only person up and about.
    Feeling like a sneak, I cut a big chunk of pound cake and headed back to my room. I was almost at my door when I heard footsteps behind me. I glanced back, but there was no one there. Still, the steps had sounded distinctive. I walked to the stairs and looked down and then up to the third floor. Nothing. I took a bite of the cake and listened. The house was quiet.
    Back in my room, the cake consumed, I picked up my guitar and went out on the balcony. Perhaps I’d heard Annie on the exterior stairs, but it didn’t matter. I might teach her, but I hadn’t been charged with babysitting her.
    The earlier storm had dropped the temperature, if not the humidity, and while my windows faced the old gardens and the place where Bob had built Erin a stables and riding facilities, I still caught