Part 20 (2/2)

Her cornflower blue eyes, so like my own, went wide, stark, bleak, as if I'd s.n.a.t.c.hed the floor from beneath her feet. Gossamer strands of sanity seemed to shred before they snapped behind her eyes, and her hands fluttered helplessly to her face. Her palms pressed tight on either cheek, so tightly her lips parted and from them came screams, terrible, silent screams that tortured her face--and suddenly Tony was there, yelling at me!

”Don't you say one more word!” He stepped forward to sweep Julian into his arms. Go to your room, Heaven. Stay there until I come and have a chance to talk to you.” He carried Jillian to her bedroom, and I watched him lay her carefully on her ivory satin spread, and only then did her mute anguish find its voice.

Over and over she screamed! Hysterical rising and falling screams that buckled her back and flailed her arms, and as I stood there almost paralyzed by what I'd brought about, I watched the youth peel from her face as if all the time she'd worn a mask of onion peelings.

I turned away, appalled by what I'd done, overwhelmed with grief to have destroyed what had been so carefully cultivated.

In my rooms I paced the floor, forgetting everything but Troy and his welfare. On occasion my thoughts flitted to Jillian and what havoc I'd wrought.

Then Tony was rapping on the door and coming in without waiting for my response. He saw that I was packing my suitcases and winced. ”Jill is asleep now,”

he informed. ”I had to force her to swallow a few sedatives.”

”Will she be all right?” I asked worriedly. He sat with a certain kind of indifference on the frailest of my silk brocaded chairs, elegantly crossing his legs, taking pains to tug up his trouser legs and keep the creases sharp. And only when he'd seen to all the little details only a man of impeccable taste thought important did he smile in a crooked ironic way. ”No, Jill will never be 'all right.' She hasn't been right since the day your mother ran away. She had always refused to talk about that last day . . and only now do I have all the pieces together.”

Quickly I sat down in the twin chair to his, placed opposite him, and I leaned forward with breathlessness, when already I'd heard the worst--or so I thought. But then, I was still an innocent, not accustomed to the complexities of human nature and all the devious ways it had of maneuvering to salvage its self-respect, when some things could never be salvaged.

He began, lowering his eyes as if ashamed now, now when it was too late. ”In the year when your mother ran from this house, I had flown to Germany to confer with a manufacturer there who does some of our small-part mechanical work.”

”I don't care about your toys at a time like this.”

I intervened.

He flicked his eyes upward. ”I'm sorry, I'm digressing, but I wanted you to understand why I was away. Anyway, your mother had tried to tell Jillian a number of times that I was making improper advances. And on this day, she screamed at Jillian, who didn't want to listen, that she had missed one of her monthly periods. 'Does that mean I'm pregnant, Mother, does it?' Jill whipped around and tore into her, refusing to believe anything she'd said. 'You filthy-minded little s.l.u.t,' she shouted. 'Why would a man like Tony want a girl like you, when he has me, me? If that's the way you're thinking, I'll send you away.”

”You don't have to bother,' whispered Leigh, her face gone dead white, go and you'll never see me again! And if I'm pregnant, I'll be the one to have the Tatterton heir!”

I was caught unprepared for those words. ”How did you find out, how?”

Tony's hands bowed into his hands. His voice came out wretched and torn. ”I knew a long time ago Jillian envied Leigh's beauty, which needed no makeup or other enhancements . . but it was only when she broke a few minutes ago that she screamed the truth at me. Leigh was pregnant when she left here, driven out by her own mother's failure to understand and help. And in loving Leigh, I not only destroyed her, I have destroyed my brother.” I sat on and on, reeling with the full knowledge.

I wasn't Pa's daughter. I wasn't a sc.u.mbag Casteel, no daughter of the hills. But what good would it do me now, now that Troy was gone?

Twenty-one Pa.s.sing Time .

TROY WAS GONE. I WAITED EACH DAY FOR A LETTER from him. None ever came. I walked through the maze each day to his cottage, hoping against hope that he'd come back, and we'd be close friends if nothing more. The cottage and its lovely gardens began to look neglected, so that I sent Farthy's gardeners over to bring it back to order. Then, one day at breakfast, with Jillian still upstairs asleep, Tony told me he'd heard from one of his plant managers that Troy was visiting each European factory one by one. ”That's a good sign,” said Tony brightly, struggling to smile. ”As long as he goes out and sees the world it means he's not lying in a bed somewhere, waiting to die.”

Tony and I were allies of a kind, united in a common cause, to bring Troy home again, to help him survive. Despite the terrible thing Tony had done to my mother, whether or not she had led him on, each day it lost some of its importance, as I fought the routine of going to college and studying so hard sometimes I fell into bed exhausted. That's when Tony was very helpful to me, a.s.sisting me over scholastic hurdles I couldn't seem to climb alone.

As for Jillian, she became a ghost of her former self. Bringing the full truth of her daughter out of the closet and into the light put Jillian in the closet. All the parties and charity affairs she had loved to attend were forgotten in the self-abuse that keep her in bed, so she no longer cared how she looked. She cried constantly for Leigh to come back and forgive her for not listening, for not understanding, for not having cared enough. But of course it was too late for Leigh to come back.

Yet life went on. I shopped again for new clothes. I wrote letters to Tom and to f.a.n.n.y, and always included a check for both. Striving for the top grades became my main objective in life. Often when Tony and I were forced to join each other just to feel we weren't alone-in a huge house, I found his blue eyes riveted on me, as if he wanted to say something that would knock down my wall of hostility, but I was reluctant to let that wall down. Let him suffer, I'd think. But for him my mother wouldn't have run away. She wouldn't have ended up in a mountain shack where poverty killed her. Then, contrarily, I'd remember the sweet days in the w.i.l.l.i.e.s when all five of the Casteel children and Logan Stonewall had found a great deal of happiness just in being together.

One cold November day when the sky threatened another snowfall, a letter arrived from f.a.n.n.y.

Dear Heaven, Your selfishness forced me to marry with my rich old man, Mallory. Now I don't need your stingy ole pin money. Mallory's got a big house, pretty as one in them fancy house magazines, and he's got a mean cranky ole ma who'd like to see me dead. Not that I kerr. Ole fishface is about ready to kick off any day, so her not liking me don't matter much no how. Mallory is trying to teach me to act like a lady, an talk like one. I wouldn't waste my time with nothing so silly if one day I didn't think I'd run into Logan Stonewall agin, an if I could talk and act proper, maybe this time he'd love me. Love me as I always wanted him to love me. An you can kiss him off as gone ferever, once he's mine.

Your loving, caring sister f.a.n.n.y .

f.a.n.n.y's letter disturbed me. Who would have ever thought that f.a.n.n.y, who had played the field far and wide, and had treated all males more or less like machines whose b.u.t.tons she knew only too well how to push, would have fallen so for Logan, the very one who scorned her most.

If f.a.n.n.y wrote just one letter, Tom wrote many. I found that roll of bills that you gave to Grandpa. Really, Heavenly, where was your good sense? He had it shoved down in his whittling box, underneath all the wood. He's a pitiful old geezer, always wanting what he hasn't got, so that when he's here, he's yearning for the hills, where Annie wants to be. And then when he's in the hills about two weeks, he then wants to be with his ”chiluns.” 1 think he gets lonely there with only that old woman who comes in the morning and fixes enough food to last the day. Gosh, Heavenly, what do you do with someone like that?

Without Troy, Farthy became just a place to stay on the weekends. I said as little as I could to Tony, and yet sometimes I felt sorry for him, prowling alone the long empty halls of a huge house that no longer resounded with the laughter and gaiety of many house guests. Yet I went on about my business, reminding myself each day that I had come to Boston with a goal in mind, and on that I concentrated, thinking somehow, at some point in time, I would find the happiness that was due me.

The years pa.s.sed swiftly after that tragic day when Troy decided it was better to put miles and miles between us. Only once in a great while did he write home, and then it was always to Tony. Grief and unhappiness were mine for the longest time, but when the sun s.h.i.+nes, and the wind blows, and the rain freshens the gra.s.s, and you see the flowers you planted in the fall coming up in the spring, bit by bit grief and unhappiness slips away. I had my dream now, my college days. The beautiful campus, the boys who asked me for dates, all that helped. One very quiet, una.s.suming, but nice-looking boy I took home for Tony to meet. Yes, the son of a state senator was perfect, even if I did find him more than a bit boring. Once or twice I saw Logan near the university, and he'd smile and say a few words, and I'd smile and ask him if he'd heard from Tom, but Logan never asked me for a date.

Feeling sorry for Jillian, I made a point of visiting her as often as my hectic routine allowed. I began to call her Grandmother. She didn't seem to notice. That alone was enough to tell me some drastic change had taken place within her. I brushed and styled her hair, and did many small things for her that she also didn't notice. And seated always in a far corner, as discreet as possible, was the nurse that Tony had hired to see that Jillian did no harm to herself.

During each of my summer breaks, Tony planned something special for us to do together. London, Paris, and Rome, finally I had my chance to see them. We traveled to Denmark, Iceland, and Finland so he could show me the small Danish town that had been Jillian's mother's birthplace. Not once did we ever make the journey to that Texas ranch where Jillian's mother and two older sisters still lived. Often I had the feeling that Tony was trying to make up for my deprived youth. I think both of us kept up a constant hope of finding Troy during our European vacations.

Many a time I thought about visiting Grandpa, who had made several round trips from Georgia to the w.i.l.l.i.e.s, but there was always the threat that Pa would be with him, and I wasn't ready to face Pa. When I thought of Stacie, I thought of that handsome little boy named Drake, and to him I mailed all sorts of wonderful gifts. Each time Stacie wrote back in a few days to thank me for remembering Drake, who thought he was very lucky to receive toys all through the year, and not have to wait for Christmas.

”You could be a huge help to me at Tatterton Toys,” said Tony time and time again. ”That is, if you've lost your ambition to become another Miss Marianne Deale.” He gazed at me steadily. ”It would be quite wonderful for me if you had your surname legally changed to Tatterton.”

Strange how I took that. I'd never been proud of being a Casteel. And yet it was as a Casteel that I wanted to return to Winnerrow with a college degree, to prove to them that, at last, a sc.u.mbag Casteel was not so ignorant and stupid they had always to end up in prison. As I thought over Tony's proposition, I realized I didn't know now exactly what I wanted for myself. I was changing, changing in all sorts of subtle ways.

Tony was trying so hard to make up for the damage he'd done in the past. Doing for me all the things I used to dream that Pa would do. Tony made me the center of his life, gave me all the attention, love, and charm that I used to think Pa owed me. During one cruise to the Caribbean, I relaxed enough to smile and flirt with several good-looking young men, and for a moment or so--I didn't worry about Troy. Whatever happened to him, it wasn't my fault, wasn't my fault at all.

But when I dreamed, I dreamed of Troy. Troy somewhere needing me, still loving me, and tears would be on my face in the morning. When I could put worries about Troy behind me, I found a certain kind of acceptance about life, and how much you could do to control it. And then one wonderful day, Tony delivered, to me something totally unexpected, and wonderful.

It happened on July the fourth. I had one more year to go in college. ”We're going to have a fabulous poolside picnic, with weekend guests I more than suspect you are going to enjoy very much.” Tony's smile was very broad. ”Jillian seems a bit better, and she'll be there--and other special guests as well,” ”Who are the special guests?”

”You'll be pleased,” he a.s.sured me, smiling his secret smile.

The flags came out, all the red, white, and blue party decorations. j.a.panese lanterns were strung from tree to tree, from lamppost to lamppost, additional servants were hired as waiters, and Tony, who could not stand rock 'n' roll music, hired several Hawaiian musicians to play in the background.

Twenty or more guests were at the poolside when I came down from my room, wearing a bright blue swimsuit that made me feel a bit embarra.s.sed because it had such high-cut legs. Over this I wore a short white eyelet jacket. Some guests were already in the pool, others sunbathing, and all were laughing, talking, having a wonderful time. A few swimmers had even dared to brave the ocean's rough waves. I went first to Jillian to kiss her cheek, and she smiled at me in a vague, disoriented way. ”What are we celebrating, Heaven?” she asked, staring at old friends as if they were strangers.

On another part of the s.p.a.cious pool terrace, I spied Tony standing and talking to a rather plump little woman, with an even plumper husband. They were more than familiar to me, and my heart began a nervous pounding. Oh, no, no! He couldn't have brought about this kind of reconciliation without warning me in advance.

And yet he had.

Here at Farthinggale Manor, where I could reach out and touch them, if I wanted, were Rita and Lester Rawlings from Chevy Chase. And if they were here . . then Keith and Our Jane had to be here as well. My heart flip-flopped. Eagerly I looked around for the two youngest Casteels. I soon spied Our Jane and Keith standing apart from other children, and then, as I watched with utter fascination, Our Jane threw off her beach coat, kicked off her rubber sandals, and ran toward the pool, with Keith close at her heels. They knew how to swim very well, and how to dive, and how to make friends out of strangers.

”Heaven!” called Tony from across the terrace. ”Come, we have special guests that I think you already know.” I approached Lester Rawlings and his wife Rita with caution, visions of that horrible Christmas Day in the w.i.l.l.i.e.s flas.h.i.+ng in and out of my mind. Memories of that terrible night after Our Jane and Keith were gone putting tears in my eyes. And I had fresher guilts and memories to make me feel nervous, for I had betrayed my promise that time in Chevy Chase when I gave my word not to speak to Our Jane or Keith, or let them see me. And then there was the way my two youngest had denied me, that pain was still there, aching.

Rita Rawlings immediately opened her arms and drew me into her motherly embrace. ”Oh, my dear, my dear, I am so sorry the way things turned out the last time. Lester and I were so afraid that seeing you again would set our darlings back, so they'd have nightmares and crying spells again. And even without seeing you that Sunday, they did subtly change, so they no longer seemed as happy and contented to be with us. If only you had told us how your circ.u.mstances had changed. That day when you so unexpectedly showed up, we thought you had come to take our children back to the hills and that awful shack. But Mr. Tatterton here has made it all very clear. She paused to clasp her plump, beringed fingers together and catch her breath. ”Lester and I just didn't understand what happened to our two happy children after that rainy Sunday afternoon. They changed as if by magic. That very night their nightmares came back. They woke up screaming, calling for Hev-lee, come back, come back! We didn't mean it, we didn't! It took weeks and weeks before they would tell us what had happened--that they had denied knowing you--and had ordered you out or they would call the police. Dear Heaven, it was cruel of them, but they were terrified of having to return to that pain, poverty, and hunger that they remembered only too well.”

All about me people were having a wonderful time, diving in and out of the pool. Servants carried trays of food and drink from here to there . . . and then I found my eyes meeting with those of the loveliest teenage girl I'd ever seen. Our Jane stood about ten feet away, her turquoise eyes fastened on me in the most pitiful, pleading way. She was thirteen now, her small, hard, burgeoning b.r.e.a.s.t.s just beginning to thrust forth her suit top. Her red gold, fiery hair flamed about her small oval face, even as her darkly fringed eyes pleaded with me for forgiveness. Close to her side was Keith, just a year older. He had shot up inches taller, and his amber hair was deep and rich. But he was staring too, and trembling. They were obviously afraid of me now, not in the same way as when I'd approached them in their own home. Now they seemed afraid that I'd hate them for denying me.

I didn't know what to say. I just held out my arms and smiled, and felt my heart pounding like crazy, then watched them hesitate, glance at each other before both came running to hurl themselves into my embrace.

”Oh, Hev-lee, Hev-lee,” cried Our Jane. ”Please don't hate us for what we did! We're sorry we drove you away. We were sorry the minute we saw your face look so sad and disappointed.” She pressed her face against my chest and really began to cry. ”It wasn't you we didn't want. It was going back to the cabin, and the hunger and the cold. We thought you would take us back to all that. And we'd no longer have Mommy and Daddy, who love us so much.”

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