Little Paula


 CONTENTS
 
 Cover
 Title Page
 Prologue
 Chapter One
 Chapter Two
 Chapter Three
 Chapter Four
 Chapter Five
 Chapter Six
 Chapter Seven
 Chapter Eight
 Chapter Nine
 Chapter Ten
 Chapter Eleven
 Chapter Twelve
 Chapter Thirteen
 Chapter Fourteen
 Chapter Fifteen
 Chapter Sixteen
 Chapter Seventeen
 Epilogue
 About the Author
 Copyright
 
 
 
 Guide
 
 Cover
 Start of Content
 Title Page
 Prologue
 Epilogue
 About the Author
 Copyright
 
 
 
 
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 V.C. Andrews
 #1 New York Times Bestselling Author of Flowers in the Attic and Ruby
 Little Paula
 A Novel
 
 
 
 
 
 
 PROLOGUE
 Daddy stole my baby.
 He and his girlfriend, Gabby, did it at night while Trevor and I were asleep. I was exhausted and completely unaware of their intention. The moment Daddy had found out I was pregnant, he forbade Trevor to sleep in my room. He sent him to the Forbidden Room, not realizing that for Trevor, sleeping there could never be a punishment.
 After our baby was gone, Trevor blamed himself for not waking, rushing into my room, and waking me. “Mama had the house trying to warn me with its creaks and moans. All the spirits of the ancestors who Mama told us lived on in our very walls were screaming. I’m sorry, Faith. I was already too deep in the darkness of fatigue and vaguely heard the frantic alerts in what I thought was a dream.”
 I was too upset to ask him to explain in more detail. He had never seemed so convinced that the house held voices. Little Paula had colic and for two days was constantly crying, especially at night, keeping not only Trevor and me awake but also Daddy and his girlfriend, Gabby, who slept in the bedroom that Daddy—Big John, as we often called him—used to sleep in with our mama, Paula. They constantly heard the baby’s crying. Sometimes Daddy would scream, “Shut her up or take her downstairs!”
 Daddy had recently returned from another long-haul trucking job with time requirements that caused him to violate safety rules and drive well over fifteen hours a day, sleeping and eating in his eighteen-wheeler. Gabby’s brother, Nick, who was Daddy’s best friend, often teamed up with him on jobs, though he couldn’t this time because he had a new job himself. I knew Daddy was irritable because of his workload. Even his having both sides of the truck cabin proudly labeled EDEN TRUCKING didn’t reduce the stress of the job. My baby’s crying only added to his stress, but there was no doubt in my mind that Little Paula’s colic wasn’t what spurred him and Gabby to action. In fact, I now believed that they already had made that decision days after I had given birth to Little Paula, if not during my pregnancy.
 Neither Trevor nor I saw any possible name for our baby but Paula. It was Mama’s name, and she had planned for us to have a child and build a family in this very house. She’d had this in mind from the very day she set eyes on us in the foster home. Our biological mothers had deserted both of us. I could barely remember mine, but Trevor had a clear enough memory of his to wonder if he would recognize her on a street someday.
 “Would she see me and walk right past me?” he sometimes asked aloud.
 “How could a mother not know her own child?” I would say, but he remained skeptical. I understood his need to know.
 We were empty vessels waiting to be filled with love. Mama saw this and saw Trevor’s and my special relationship at the foster home. That was what made us perfect in her eyes, ideal to continue her family.
 Nothing was more important to Mama than her family and the heritage that she had molded for us. She was confident that Trevor and I were the way to ensure it would all continue, because the affection and the need we had for each other were precisely what she said came with being part of a family. It was why she took such good care of us, homeschooled us, and taught us how precious her home