In her music, she found sweet salvation....
Honey grew up on a farm under her strict, fanatically religious grandfather's disapproving eye. To him, everything is a sin -- from her natural-born talent for the violin to her innocent interest in boys and dating -- and life is a treacherous path to be walked in fear. When Honey is paired for music practice with a brilliant piano student, wealthy Chandler Maxwell, she discovers a true soul mate. But when a shocking family secret comes to light, Honey discovers the startling cause of her grandfather's bitter fury. And her own precious joy may be lost forever....
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March 31, 2002
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Excerpt from Honey by V.C. Andrews
Never Say Good-bye
In the spring of my senior year in high school, my uncle Peter was killed when his airplane crashed in the field he was crop dusting. A witness said the engine just choked and died on him. He was only thirty-five years old, and he had been my first pretend boyfriend. He had taken me flying at least a dozen times in his plane, each time more fun and exciting than the time before. When he performed his aerial acrobatics with me in the passenger seat beside him, I screamed at the top of my lungs. I screamed with a smile on my face, the way most people do when they have just gone over a particularly steep peak of tracks on the roller coaster at the Castle Rock Fun Park, which was only a few miles east of Columbus. Uncle Peter had taken me there, too.
He was my father's younger brother, but the five years between them seemed like a gap of centuries when it came to comparing their personalities. Daddy was often almost as serious and religious as Grandad Forman. Both were what anyone would call workaholics on our corn farm, actually Grandad's five-hundred-acre corn farm, which also had chickens and cows, mainly for our own consumption of eggs and milk. Grandad sold the remainder to some local markets.
Everything still belonged to Grandad, which was something he never let any of us forget, especially my step-uncle Simon, who lived in a makeshift room over the cow barn. Grandad Forman claimed that way Simon would be close to his work. One of his chores every day was milking and caring for the milk cows. He was the son of Grandad's first wife, Tess, who had lost her first husband, Clayton, when his truck turned over on the interstate and was hit by a tractor trailer. Clayton worked for Grandad at the time.
Simon had just been born when Tess married Grandad, but Grandad always regarded him as if he were an illegitimate child, working him hard and treating him like he was outside the family, treating him like the village idiot.
There were only very rare times when all of us, my uncle Peter, my father and mother, and my step-uncle Simon would be around Grandad's dark oak dining room table, reciting grace and enjoying a meal and an evening together. However, when we were, it was easy to see the vast differences among everyone.
Mommy was tall with a shapely figure, often kept well-hidden under her loosely fitted garments. She didn't wear any makeup and never went to a beauty parlor. Her rich, dark brown hair was usually kept pinned up. On special occasions, I helped her wave a French knot. Mommy wasn't born here. She had come from Russia when she was in her late teen years, accompanied by her aunt, Ethel, who was a relative of Grandad Forman's through marriage.