When the Wind Blows Read Free Page A

sparkled with determination, and her body, though she was nearing eighty and getting stiff, was still strong. She didn’t stand to greet her visitors; she was one of thosewomen who expects others to rise while she remains seated.
    Christie, unsure of what she was expected to do, stood quietly staring at the floor. Suddenly her nostrils filled with a strange odor and she sneezed.
    “God bless you,” Diana said. “Do you have a cold?”
    Christie shook her head. “I smelled something, and it made me sneeze.”
    Diana sniffed at the air, then smiled. “That’s lavender,” she said. “Don’t you like it?”
    “I don’t know,” Christie said. “What’s it for?”
    “It’s just to make things smell good.”
    Christie stared up at her. “Why?”
    “Why—why because—” Diana floundered, unable to find an answer for the little girl’s question.
    For the first time, Edna Amber spoke. “It’s to cover up sour smells,” she said. “Like houses that haven’t been properly cleaned, and old people, and children.” She got to her feet and, leaning stiffly on her cane, walked out of the room. There was a long silence until she was gone, and then Christie, comprehending only that the old woman didn’t like her, began to cry. Once again Diana gathered the little girl into her arms.
    “It’s all right,” she whispered. “Everything’s going to be fine. I’m going to be your mother now, and you’ll be my little girl.”
    The words struck a chord in Christie. Her crying abated, and she looked deep into Diana’s eyes.
    “My mama died a long time ago,” she said, her voice quivering.
    “I know,” Diana told her. “But now I’ll be your mama.”
    Christie’s expression was uncertain as she searched Diana’s face. “Promise?” she said at last, her voice shaking.
    “I promise,” Diana breathed.
    Suddenly the little girl dissolved into tears once more, but this time she slid her arms around Diana’sneck and clung to her. Lifting her up, Diana laid Christie gently on the sofa, then sat and cradled the child’s head in her lap. As Diana and Bill talked Christie’s sobbing eased until she lay still.
    “Is she all right?” Diana asked. Christie seemed to have fallen asleep.
    “She will be,” Bill assured her. “She’s still a little bit in shock, but I’d rather not give her anything—it seems as though every time something happens, we try to take something for it. But children are resilient.” He paused, then met Diana’s eyes. “Diana, are you sure this is wise?”
    “What?”
    “Taking her in. Obviously Miss Edna doesn’t approve.”
    “I’m a grown woman, Bill,” Diana said. “Mother doesn’t make all my decisions for me anymore.”
    But even as she spoke Bill saw Diana’s eyes flickering around the room as if she expected to see her mother somewhere, watching her, mocking her, contradicting her.
    Controlling her.
    He was well aware that Diana was all Edna Amber had left, and that she guarded her aging daughter like a tigress with a cub, prowling around her, ever wary of any danger. Even Bill, after all the years he had known Edna Amber, still felt a certain awe of her. She carried about her an aura of power that no one in Amberton was immune to, even while they sometimes wondered if Miss Edna used her power to protect her daughter or only herself.
    For Bill, Edna’s protectiveness had an extra edge: there had been a time when he had wanted to marry Diana. It was because of Diana that he had come back to Amberton at the age of twenty-nine, finished with school, finished with his internship, ready to begin his practice. He had come back because he hadbeen in love with Diana since they were children together.
    But nothing had happened. Miss Edna, always polite to him, never raising her voice, had seen to that.
    As far as Miss Edna was concerned, Bill Henry was just a town boy, trying to better himself by marrying above his station. Eventually she had convinced Diana of it, and now,