Willow by V. C. Andrews Page B

to me. "My throat feels like ten-day-old bread."
He jumped up, went into the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator. "I'm having a beer," he shouted back to me. "You want anything. Willow?"
"No."
He poured himself a glass and returned, smiling.
"I aced Heller's exam," he said. "He posted the grades this morning... one of his A-h's, and you know how hard it is to get that out of Heller. I don't think he gives out more than two or three a semester," he said proudly.
He brushed back some wild strands of his flaxen blond hair and sprawled on the sofa, putting his legs over my lap. He sipped his beer and then laughed.
"What?"
"I half expected you would greet me with how right that Portuguese nanny of yours was about the dreads." he replied smiling
"'Well, she was, wasn't she?"
He shrugged. "Coincidence. I believe just about everything we ascribe to spiritual powers is basically just that. Anyway, it's over. You're here. and I'm going to do all I can to help you get back on track and stay on the dean's list." he continued. He drank more of his beer.
"I'm not going to do that just yet. Allan." I said. I moved his legs off my lap. They were getting heavy.
He sat up. annoyed. "Sure you are." he said firmly. "You'll get back into it. I'll see to it. I'll study with you, help you with any papers that are due, any research. There's no reason for you not to get right on track again. You know, when the going gets tough, the tough get going."
He downed the remainder of his beer,
"What you need is a little cuddling and loving, honey. Just listen to the love doctor himself." He reached around my shoulders to embrace me and pull me closer to him. He started to nudge my neck with his lips and let his hand drop down over my breast.
I put my hands on his chest and pushed back. "You don't understand what I'm telling you. Allan."
"Well, then, what are you telling me?" he asked with ribbons of anger trailing his words.
"I'm taking a leave from college. I decided on the way home."
"Huh?" He smiled, confused. "Just because your father died? Hey, let me tell you something. Willow. I didn't meet him but that one time. but I'm sure he wouldn't want you to do that. Besides, you can grieve only so long, and then you run out of tears and look around and realize you've got nothing intelligent to do with yourself. No, no, you'll stay in school. hear? Your father's gone. so I'll have to take over and give you the guidance he would have given you."
"I don't need a father figure. Allan. I'm capable of making my own decisions."
"Sure you are, but just not at the moment." He leaned toward me again, his smile widening with lust.
I kept my hand out to hold him away. "I'm not taking a leave to mourn my father's passing, Allan."
"I don't understand." He shook his head. "Why would you leave college now, in the middle of a semester? Why would you leave me?" he followed, raising his voice.
"I told you, a great deal happened back home." I began. I sat back and looked at the floor as I spoke. "My father had left instructions with the family lawyer to give me a diary he had written years ago."
"A diary?"
"Yes, a diary, a love story, actually. In it, he revealed who my real mother was."
"You're kidding, right?"
"No."
He dropped his smile so fast I thought I saw it fall to the floor. "That doesn't sound very professional of him. Doesn't sound like good psychological practice."
It had nothing to do with that in the end."
"How did he know who your mother was? Did he get the information from the agency?"
"No. My mother was one of his patients."
"Patients?" He sat back and grimaced. "You're kidding. One of his patients?"
"Yes. I always knew that my mother was one of his patients," I said.
"I don't remember you telling me that."
"I was always sensitive about it. I didn't lie to you. I just wasn't able to speak about it. My adoptive mother never let me forget it and always had me thinking something would be wrong with me."
He nodded. "I see," he said, and then realized what I had