Part 33 (1/2)
”Of course, Annie.”
Luke made the turn and drove to the Tatterton family cemetery. He brought the car as close to the monument as he could and I looked out my window.
Night had fallen, but the moon cast enough of its yellow illumination over the cemetery for me to see. ”Good-bye for now, Mommy and Daddy. Rest in peace. Someday soon I'll return and walk to your monument.”
”You surely will,” Aunt f.a.n.n.y said, and patted me on the shoulder.
Luke squeezed my hand. I turned to him to soak in the warmth and the love in his smile.
”Let's go home, Luke,” I said.
As we pulled away I looked back and caught sight of Troy Tatterton stepping out of the forest from where I was certain he had observed my entire departure. He lifted his hand gently to wave. I waved back. ”Who ya wavin' at, Annie?”
”No one, Aunt f.a.n.n.y . no one.”
Part 3.
TWENTY-ONE.
Homecoming.
I was too excited to sleep on the airplane. Luke and I sat beside each other near a window, and Aunt f.a.n.n.y sat in front of us. I was so happy to see Luke, I couldn't take my eyes off him, and from the way he was looking at me, I knew he felt the same way.
”Pinch me and tell me this isn't a dream, Luke.
Tell me you're really with me again.”
”It's no dream,” he said, smiling.
”I dreamt it so often and so hard that it still seems that way to me,” I confessed. For the first time that I could remember, when I expressed my need and love for him, I didn't blush, nor did he look away. Our eyes fixed on each other. He put his hand over mine and squeezed it gently. Everything in me cried out for him, urged me to say more. I wanted him to embrace me, to hold me tenderly and kiss me.
”Annie, I worried about you day and night. I couldn't concentrate on anything in college. Everyone was trying to get me to go to parties, to meet people, but my heart was too heavy to appreciate or enjoy anything. I spent a lot of time in my dormitory room composing letters to you.”
”Letters I never got!” It filled me with such anger. If only I had received his letters, my dark and desperate days would have been bright and hopeful.
”I know that now, but I couldn't understand why you weren't trying to reach me, weren't calling or sending messages somehow. I thought . . .” He looked down.
”What did you think, Luke? Please, tell me,” I begged.
”I thought that once you entered the rich world at Farthy, you had forgotten about me, that Tony had surrounded you with so many distractions, brought so many new people for you to meet, that I wasn't important to you any longer. I'm sorry, Annie; I'm sorry I had those thoughts,” he apologized.
My heart swelled to know he felt the same way I did.
”Oh no, Luke. I can understand why you thought them, for I thought them of you as well,” I admitted eagerly.
”You did?” I nodded, and he smiled. ”Then you cared, really cared?”
”Oh, Luke, you can't imagine how much I missed you, missed hearing your voice. I replayed it over and over in my mind, remembering the nice things you said to me in the past. Just thinking about you and the things you have done in your life despite all obstacles gave me hope and encouragement.” I smiled. ”I went directly for those tall mountains.”
”I'm so happy I was some help to you even though I wasn't there beside you.”
”Well, you were, and I dreamt and dreamt of us on the gazebo again.”
”Me, too,” he said, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. I knew it was harder for him to make these revelations than it was for me. Other men might think him soft, even immature. ”While I was alone there in my dormitory room, I would imagine us together again the way we were on our eighteenth birthday. I wished we could be frozen into that day forever and forever. Oh, Annie,” he said, his hand more firmly around mine, ”I don't know how I am going to ever leave you again.”
”I don't want you, too, Luke,” I whispered. We were so close now, our lips nearly grazed each other's. Aunt f.a.n.n.y laughed at something she was reading in a magazine and we sat back again. Luke looked out the window and I let my head fall back against the seat and closed my eyes. Luke didn't let go of my hand, and I felt safe, secure, protected and sheltered once again.
I was excited when the plane finally landed, but after we got into Aunt f.a.n.n.y's car at the airport in Virginia, I fell asleep and slept most of the way back to Winnerrow. By the time I opened my eyes, we were in the hill country, steadily climbing, winding around and around. There was no fast expressway to take us up into the w.i.l.l.i.e.s. Soon the gasoline stations became more widely s.p.a.ced. The grand new sprawling motels were replaced by little cabins tucked away in shadowy dense woods. Shoddy, unpainted little buildings heralded yet another country town off the beaten track, until those, too, were left behind.
Aunt f.a.n.n.y had fallen asleep in the rear seat. We had soft music on the radio. Luke had to keep his eyes on the road ahead, but he wore a smile of contentment. He looked so much more mature to me. The tragedy had aged and changed us both, I thought, even in ways we were yet to discover.
Seeing the familiar countryside filled me with a warm and secure feeling. I wondered if Mommy had felt the same way when she had fled Farthy with Drake because ofthe things Tony Tatterton had done. The world outside of the w.i.l.l.i.e.s and Winnerrow must have looked as hard and as cold and as cruel to her as it now did to me.
”Almost there,” Luke announced softly. ”We're almost back in our world, Annie.”
”Oh, Luke, we thought escaping it, going to a fantasy place, would be more wonderful, but nothing is more wonderful than home, is it?” I asked him.
”Not as long as you're part of it, Annie,” he said, and reached over to take my hand. When our fingers touched, they entwined tightly, for neither of us wanted to let go. My heart pounded with happiness.
He saw the look on my face, and his face suddenly became very serious. He sensed how deep my feelings were, and I saw that his were just as deep. It troubled him, I knew, because we were both surrendering to how we felt rather than paying heed to who we were.
”I can't wait to see Hasbrouck House,” I whispered.
”Soon, soon.”
Mile by mile I was growing more and more impatient, more excited. Finally we came upon the broad green fields on the outskirts of Winnerrow, neat farms with fields of corn soon to be harvested. The little farmhouses were all lit up, the families living within them gathered together in the warm glow of lamps. I nearly squealed with delight when I saw the lights of the shacks of the coal miners dotting the hills. They looked like stars that had fallen but had kept their brightness, And then we entered Winnerrow proper and drove onto Main Street. To the very end we went, pa.s.sing all the pastel homes of the richest, backed by the lesser homes of the middle cla.s.s, the ones who worked in the mines, holding down overseer or manager positions.
I closed my eyes when we turned down the street that led to Hasbrouck House. In moments I would be home, but it would be a different home without Mommy and Daddy. I knew that when we pulled into the driveway neither Mommy nor Daddy would be there to greet us . . . no smiles, no warm kisses, no hugs and loving welcomes. The reality washed over me like a giant, powerful wave in the ocean. I couldn't escape from it or hold it back. My mother and father were dead and buried back at Farthy. I was still an invalid. None of it had been a dream.
”Well, thank Gawd we're here,” Aunt f.a.n.n.y drawled as we drove up to the house. ”Beep yer horn, Luke, so the servants know.”
”Annie doesn't have that much, Ma.”
”Jist beep the horn.”
She got out quickly and came around to open my door. I just sat there looking up at the house, at the tall white pillars and large windows. I inhaled the scent of the magnolias and for a moment I felt like a little girl again, being brought home from one of our family vacations at the beach, and just as they did then, the servants gathered together and came out the front door to greet us.
Mrs. Avery was all tears, her frilly silk handkerchief, the one I had bought her on one of her birthdays, looking damp and wilted. She waved it like a flag of welcome as she walked down the steps and to the car as quickly as her arthritic limbs would permit.
”Oh, Annie. Welcome home, dear.” Aunt f.a.n.n.y stepped back so she could lean in to hug and kiss me.
”h.e.l.lo, Mrs. Avery.”
”Your room is all ready . . cleaned and polished and aired out nice and proper.”