Aberrations Read Online Free Page B

revenge—she overcooked the eggs and gave him the slightly scorched piece of toast.
    When she sat down she looked at him challengingly. “I’m Ellen Morrow,” she said.
    He hesitated, then drawled, “You can call me Peter.”
    “Thanks a lot,” she said sarcastically. He smiled his unpleasant smile again, and Ellen felt him watching her eat. As soon as she could she excused herself, telling her aunt she was going to call her father.
    That drew the first response of the morning from May. She put out a hand, drawing it back just shy of touching Ellen. “Please don’t. There’s nothing he can do for me and I don’t want him charging down here for no good reason.”
    “But, Aunt May, you’re his only sister—I have to tell him, and of course he’ll want to do something for you.”
    “The only thing he can do for me now is to leave me alone.”
    Unhappily, Ellen thought that her aunt was right—still, her father must be told. In order to be able to speak freely, she left the kitchen and went back to her aunt’s bedroom where she felt certain there would be an extension.
    There was, and she dialed her parents’ number. The ringing went on and on. She gave up, finally, and phoned her father’s office. The secretary told her he’d gone fishing, and would be unreachable for at least two days. She promised to give him a message if he called, or when he returned.
    So it had to wait. Ellen walked back toward the kitchen, her crêpe-soled shoes making almost no sound on the floor.
    She heard her aunt’s voice, “You didn’t come to me last night. I waited and waited. Why didn’t you come?”
    Ellen froze.
    “You said you would stay with me,” May continued. Her voice had a whining note that made Ellen uncomfortable. “You promised you would stay and look after me.”
    “The girl was in the house,” Peter said. “I didn’t know if I should.”
    “What does she matter? She doesn’t matter. Not while I’m here, she doesn’t. This is still my house and I…I belong to you, don’t I? Don’t I, dearest?”
    Then there was a silence. As quietly as she could, Ellen hurried away and left the house.
    The sea air, damp and warm though it was, was a relief after the smoldering closeness of the house. But Ellen, taking in deep breaths, still felt sick.
    They were lovers, her dying aunt and that awful young man.
    That muscular, hard-eyed, insolent stranger was sleeping with her frail, elderly aunt. The idea shocked and revolted her, but she had no doubt of it—the brief conversation, her aunt’s voice, could not have been more plain.
    Ellen ran down the sandy, weedy incline toward the narrow beach, wanting to lose her knowledge. She didn’t know how she could face her aunt now, how she could stay in a house where—
    She heard Danny’s voice, tired, contemptuous, yet still caring, “You’re so naïve about sex, Ellen. You think everything’s black and white. You’re such a child.”
    Ellen started to cry, thinking of Danny, wishing she had not run away from him. What would he say to her about this? That her aunt had a right to pleasure, too, and age was just another prejudice.
    But what about him ? Ellen wondered. What about Peter—what did he get out of it? He was using her aunt in some way, she was certain of it. Perhaps he was stealing from her—she thought of all the empty rooms upstairs and wondered.
    She found a piece of Kleenex in a pocket of her jeans and wiped away the tears. So much was explained by this, she thought. Now she knew why her aunt was so desperate not to leave this rotting hulk of a house, why she didn’t want her brother to come.
    “Hello, Ellen Morrow.”
    She raised her head, startled, and found him standing directly in her path, smiling his hard smile. She briefly met, then glanced away from, his dark, ungiving eyes.
    “You’re not very friendly,” he said. “You left us so quickly. I didn’t get a chance to talk to you.”
    She glared at him and tried to walk away, but he