A Family Affair. V. J. Banis

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СКАЧАТЬ about them. For a moment they stood in silence, staring across the lawn at her. Finally one woman left the group and walked swiftly toward Jennifer. Rather, Jennifer found herself thinking, it was as if the woman floated across the lawn rather than walked. Again Jennifer had that odd sense of unreality, as if she were in a dream.

      “Jennifer,” the woman called as she came near. “I’m your Aunt Christine.”

      Jennifer took the extended hand stiffly. It was difficult to avoid staring at the strange creature who had greeted her. Even disregarding her peculiar garb, Aunt Christine was a singular individual. She was tall and willowy, and old—the lines about her mouth and eyes, the silver gray hair gleaming seemingly from within, gave evidence of that fact. Yet there was something about her that denied age, a childlike quality difficult to define but unmistakable nonetheless. It was almost as if she were in fact a very young person made up to appear very old; as if she were playing a role.

      “I’m so happy to be here,” Jennifer returned the greeting, aware that her voice lacked enthusiasm. She was not at all sure that she was happy to be here. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she added, unable to resist another glance at the strange little group of women who waited in the distance.

      “Not at all,” Aunt Christine said, quite unembarrassed by the scene. “We were nearly finished anyway, to tell the truth, and I’m sure they can manage the rest without me.”

      “What....” Jennifer hesitated. “What were you all doing?”

      “Doing? Why, we were dancing, of course.” Aunt Christine looked somewhat surprised. Then, abruptly, her expression changed, as if she had just remembered something. “Did your mother tell you anything about us?”

      Jennifer shook her head. “Nothing at all. I didn’t even know you existed until I got your letter. I thought I was alone in the world.”

      Aunt Christine had been studying her intently as she spoke, but now the older woman’s face broke into a smile again, and she seized Jennifer’s arm tightly. “Never mind about that, you aren’t alone, and never will be again, I promise you,” she said. “You’re going to stay with us forever. But just now I’m sure you must be exhausted, and listen to me chattering away like a magpie. Let’s just the two of us go on up to the house, and you can meet the others a little later.”

      They started toward the house on a course that took them safely past the group of women. Glancing again in their direction, Jennifer saw that the dancing had been resumed; they twirled and swayed, moving in a circle upon the grass. The white of their robes twirled after them, like tendrils of mist.

      “Would you mind awfully,” Jennifer asked in a weak voice, “asking them to put some clothes on?”

      “Oh of course,” Aunt Christine said with a little laugh. “We wouldn’t go around the house like that.”

      I wouldn’t go anywhere like that, Jennifer thought to herself. Aloud, she murmured a faint, “Of course.”

      Kelsey House and its inhabitants were certainly a far cry from anything she might have imagined. She was beginning to suspect that there might have been very good reasons why her mother had severed the family ties and left them severed all those years. Aunt Christine had implied as much, asking if Jennifer’s mother had told her about them; what was there to tell, exactly?

      Like it or not, though, she was here, and she had no intention of leaving before morning. She was exhausted; it was an effort to walk alongside Aunt Christine toward the house, and her eyelids felt as if they were made of lead. If nothing else, she was entitled to a night’s rest. For that matter, she had no alternative. Without a car, in the dark, she could scarcely consider leaving, even if she had any place to go.

      “We didn’t wait dinner,” Aunt Christine went on, “because I was afraid you might be late, but I’ve kept some warm for you. And I know you’re tired. There’s plenty of time to meet the others in the morning, if you’d rather.”

      “Yes, I think I would rather, thank you,” Jennifer replied. Somehow she did not quite feel up to any more surprises for one day. She had had a long and tiring drive, climaxed with stalling her car in a stream. She had been frightened and then irritated by the man on the road—who, she observed now, seemed to have disappeared altogether. Then had come that strange journey through the woods, seeming to belong to no part of time or the world. And finally she had arrived at Kelsey House to finds its inhabitants engaged in some strange rite the significance of which she could not begin to guess.

      She wanted no more surprises. What she did want, and all that she wanted, was a soft bed to stretch out on, and hour after hour of deep, restful sleep. Even food, although she had not eaten for several hours, was less important to her than the prospect of a night’s sleep.

      I hope, she thought a bit uneasily, their sleeping habits are a little less peculiar than some of their other habits.

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