Ann Martin - Mary Anne And The Secret In The Attic

Dawn nodded. "Sure," she said. She squeezed my hand. "I'll be in my room, reading."

Dad took my hand and led me to his study. I was dying of curiosity — and was also a little nervous. "What is it Dad?" I asked, after he'd shut the door behind us.

"Well," he said slowly. "I think the time has come to give this to you." He put his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope.

I took it and looked it over. It was yellowed with age, and my name was written on the front.

"It's a letter," he said. "A letter for you. it’s from your mother." His voice sounded a little strange, as if he were trying to hold back tears. "She wrote it just before she died, and asked me to give it to you when you turned sixteen. But I think she'd want me to give it to you now, instead. She had no way of knowing how mature you'd be at thirteen. I hope it will help to answer some of the questions you have about your past." He sounded formal, like someone making a presentation of a medal or something.

I gulped. "Dad, are you sure?" I asked. I held the letter tightly. "I mean, do you think I'm really ready to read this?" All of a sudden I felt like a little girl again. After all my curiosity, now I wasn't sure I could handle reading my mother's words.

"You're ready, honey," said my dad. He stood up and gave me a big hug. "You're ready. Why don't you take that to your bedroom and read it in private?"

"Okay," I replied, a little shakily. I left the study and went to my bedroom. I dosed the door behind me and sat down on my bed, with Tigger on my lap. I was still clutching the envelope. I turned it over in my hands and looked again at my name, written in script. "My mother wrote that," I said to Tigger. "This letter is from her to me." I sat for a few more minutes, just thinking. What I held in my hands was something I'd longed for for so many years. Reading this letter would be like hearing my mother speak to me. I took a few deep breaths, and then, when I felt ready, I carefully tore open the envelope and pulled out the letter. It was written on pale blue paper, and the writing covered three whole pages.

I started to read.

"Dearest Mary Anne," it began. "How I wish I could see your face as you read this letter. Is it a face I would recognize? I know one thing for sure: it’s a lovely face. The baby who sits by me as I write this is the most beautiful baby I've ever seen. (Of course, I may

be a little prejudiced, since I am her mother.)

I smiled as I read that. The letter went on. "I know that your father loves you very much, and that he'll do everything he can to bring you up well. I know, too, that it will be hard for him and that he will need help now and then. that’s why I am happy to know that my mother and father, who dote on you, are ready and willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that you have a happy and secure childhood."

I thought of the people I'd seen in the old pictures. They had kind, gentle faces. They had loved me, my grandparents — and by taking care of me they had been carrying out a promise they'd made to my mother. I let go of any mean thoughts I'd had about my grandmother.

"Mary Anne," the letter went on. "I would give anything to be with you today — to be with you through all your days of growing up. I love you so much, and it hurts so badly to know that I have to leave you."

That's when I started to cry.

I read the rest of the letter, crying the whole time. My mother told me about herself and her childhood. She told me how she and my father had met and fallen in love. She wrote about her hopes and dreams for me, and the hopes and dreams she'd once had for herself.

By the time I finished the letter, I felt exhausted. But I also felt happy. Reading that letter was an experience I will never forget.

I sat alone in my room for a long time, holding the letter. Then I put it away in a special place, and went to find my father. It was time for me to make plans for a trip to Maynard, Iowa.

About the Author

ANN M. MARTIN did a lot of baby-sitting when she was growing up in Princeton, New Jersey. She is a former editor of books for children, and was graduated from Smith College.

Ms. Martin lives in New York City with her cats, Mouse and Rosie. She likes ice cream and 7 Love Lucy; and she hates to cook.

Ann Martin's Apple Paperbacks include Yours Turly, Shirley; Ten Kids, No Pets; With You and Without You; Bummer Summer; and all the other books in the Baby-sitters Club series.