Whitefern Read Online Free Page B

she had been captured by heathens and eaten by cannibals.
    It was all those conflicting memories that finally drove me to the edge of exhaustion and pushed me into sleep, a sleep so deep that I didn’t hear Arden come up much later. What woke me was the stench of alcohol. He was being clumsy, too, and quite inconsiderate, banging into chairs, mumbling loudly, slamming a glass down on a shelf in the bathroom, and then practically falling into the bed so that my body bounced as if I were on a trampoline.
    â€œAre you awake?” he asked. “Huh?”
    I tried to pretend I was not, but he nudged me. “What?”
    â€œYou heard them.”
    â€œHeard who?”
    â€œOur clients. You see how important it is that the business be completely under my control now,” he said, sounding sober. “We can’t give anyone theimpression that we’re not as solid as ever. If they so much as suspected someone without real knowledge of today’s market was involved in their business, they’d leave us in droves. We have to talk about this, and you must do what I tell you.”
    â€œWe’ll talk tomorrow,” I said.
    â€œAh, tomorrow . . . tomorrow . . . Your father wasn’t in his right mind, I tell you. Well? Well?”
    I wouldn’t answer him.
    Finally, he turned onto his side, his back to me. I was trying to fall asleep again, but then he muttered, “Your sister was crying hysterically in your father’s room.”
    â€œWhat?”
    He didn’t respond.
    â€œWhat did you say?” I sat up. Still, he didn’t respond. In a moment, he was snoring.
    I got up and found my robe and slippers. Then I went to Papa’s bedroom. The door was open again, but when I looked in, I didn’t see Sylvia. I turned on a light and even looked into Papa’s bathroom, but she wasn’t there. Arden must have imagined it in his drunken stupor, I concluded, and I turned off the lights. Instead of returning to bed, I went to Sylvia’s room.
    For a few moments, I stood in her doorway and peered into the darkness. The curtains at the windows had been left open, but the sky was overcast. There wasn’t even any starlight. In fact, I thought I heard the tinkling of raindrops against the glass. I stepped in and immediately saw that Sylvia was not in her bed. I checked her bathroom, and then hurried downstairs.
    The living room had been cleaned up halfheartedly. Spilled drinks and bits of food were everywhere; there would be a lot of work to do tomorrow. Sylvia wasn’t there.
    I headed for the kitchen. Maybe she had gone down for a snack, since she had eaten nothing. There were many nights when I had found her doing just that. Sometimes Papa would be with her, and they would both be having a piece of cake or cookies with milk or tea. I assumed she’d recalled those nights and had gone to the kitchen, driven by memories.
    But she wasn’t there, either.
    â€œSylvia?” I called. I checked every room, every bathroom. Growing frantic now, I hurried up to the cupola, but that was empty, too.
    The realization thundered around me. Sylvia wasn’t in the house! I thought about waking Arden to tell him, but when I looked in on him, he was snoring even louder. He’d be of no help and grumpy for sure, I thought. But where was she? Where would she go?
    I went to the closet in the entryway and put on one of my overcoats. Taking an umbrella, I stepped out and looked for her on the porch.
    â€œSylvia?” I cried. “Where are you? Sylvia?”
    The rain was coming down harder, and the wind was now icy. A thick fog had blanketed the grounds and the woods. It was late October, but fall was obviously being crushed by a heavy oncoming winter. I realized I was still in my slippers, so I returned to the entryway closet and took out a pair of Papa’s black leather boots. My feet swam in them, but I was able towalk out and down the stairs with