Part 38 (2/2)

”Oh, Mommy,” I whispered, ”how I wish you and I could have just one more conversation. How much I need your counsel and wisdom. I would easily see that you had lived through this kind of pain and I would be guided by your words.”

Until the first tear splattered on the letter, I did not realize I had been crying. Much of what Troy had written here to Mommy, Luke could have written to me. In fact, as I had read the words, I had heard Luke's voice.

I refolded the letter and lifted the roof from the cottage once again to return it to its special hiding place where it had been kept all these years. It belonged with the cottage; it was part of it. The music tore at my heart much the same way it must have torn at Mommy's whenever she sat alone and listened, for while it played, she surely saw Troy's face and heard his words of farewell, time after time after time.

Perhaps this had much to do with why she never wanted to return to Farthy. It wasn't only her anger at Tony. The memories of lost love were too painful. And all those times Luke and I talked about the maze and fantasized about Farthy . . . the pain we were inflicting on her without realizing it. Oh, Mother, I thought, forgive us. Our little fictions must have sent you back to this little toy cottage to mourn the love you had buried forever.

Just then Mrs. Avery knocked on my door. I called to her to come in. She looked unusually fl.u.s.tered and excited.

”There's a gentleman on the phone who says he's calling from Farthinggale Manor. He says it's very important.”

Would I ever be free of Tony Tatterton and his mad hallucinations and confusions? Bubbles of anger began to boil in me. ”Well, you'll have to tell Tony Tatterton--”

”No, Annie, it's not Mr. Tony Tatterton. He says it's about Mr. Tony Tatterton. He says he thought you ought to know.”

”Know? Know what?” My heart stopped and then began to pitter-patter.

”He didn't say, Annie. He asked to speak directly to you and I came looking for you.”

”Oh. Tell him I'm coming.” I took a deep breath and drove back the cold s.h.i.+ver that had started to climb my spine.

I followed Mrs. Avery as quickly as I could. Now that was up and about, I was frustrated by my slow and awkward gait.

Mrs. Avery handed me the telephone receiver and I sat down to speak.

”h.e.l.lo,” I said in a tiny frightened voice. I thought the pounding of my heart could be heard over the phone; it was that loud to me.

”Annie,” he said. I had no trouble recognizing the voice, just as imagined Mommy would have had no trouble had she heard it after years and years. ”I thought you would want to know and might want to come to the funeral.”

”Funeral?” My heart paused and I held my breath. ”Tony pa.s.sed away a few hours ago. I was at his bedside.”

”Pa.s.sed away?” Suddenly I felt sorry for him, pining away at Farthy, thinking the woman he loved had left him again. Through me he had relived his own tragedy. I had unwillingly been an actress in a play cast years and years ago. Like some understudy, I had stepped into a role Mommy had been forced to play, too. Now, finally, mercifully perhaps, the curtain had been brought down, the lights had been turned off, the players had all left the stage. For Tony Tatterton, the agony had come to an end.

But Troy's voice was filled with sincere sorrow, not relief. He had lost a brother who had once been more of a father to him.

”Oh, Troy. I'm sorry. I didn't think he was physically unwell. You were with him?”

”I had just made up my mind to make myself more visible and give him some comfort at a time in his life when he desperately needed someone to care for him, for what I had told you was true--he did care for me whenever I was sick. And,” he added, his voice cracking, ”he did love me very much. Ultimately, we had no one but each other.”

My throat closed up and I couldn't swallow for a moment. I felt my eyes fill with tears. It was not difficult for me to imagine Troy at Tony's bedside, Tony's hand in his, Troy's head bowed, his shoulders shaking with sobs when the life left his older brother.

”How did he die?” I finally asked, my voice so thin it was nearly in a whisper.

”It was a stroke. Apparently, he had had a minor one some time back, but I never knew.”

”Drake called me recently and told me he had spoken with him, but he didn't mention he was seriously ill.”

”He shut himself up in his room, so that even Rye didn't know what was happening. By the time he realized it, it was already too late. At least I was with him at the end. He babbled a great deal, confusing people. After a while I wasn't sure he knew who I was, but he did mention your name and he made me promise I would look after you and be sure you were all right.

”I . . . I know that he had been going through strange mental torments, and I imagine you witnessed some of it, but he was harmless. He was just someone searching for love and a way to make up for his sins . . . something we all end up doing one way or another.”

”I know.” I wondered if he could hear in the way I had said that just how much I already did know. ”I know who Tony really was to me, Troy. He shouted it out as I was leaving, and my aunt f.a.n.n.y confirmed it.”

”Oh. I see.” His voice drifted off. ”I'm not making any excuses for him, but he did have a complicated and difficult marriage.”

”Yes.” I wasn't eager to talk about all that now. ”But Troy, I want to come to the funeral. When is it?”

”Day after tomorrow, two o'clock. Everything will be at the family cemetery. From what your maid just told me, I understand you've been improving steadily. I'm happy for you, Annie, and I don't want anything to set you back, so if making such a journey is too much of a strain--”

”It won't be, and I won't have a setback. I'm anxious to see you again. I never had a chance to thank you for calling my aunt f.a.n.n.y and having Luke and her come and get me. It was you who did that, wasn't it?”

”I didn't wat.i.t to see you go; I was hoping we would have more opportunities to be together, but I saw what was happening to you here and I knew you really belonged with the people you loved, even though I can imagine how painful it must have been for you to go home. I remember Tony telling me how it was for him when he came to my cottage a long time ago, thinking I was dead and gone.”

”It was painful. I wish I had a cottage to hide away from sadness and pain like you do with a maze to keep unwanted people away.”

”Tragedy has a way of discovering the right turns and finding you anyway if it is meant to, Annie. I've learned that too well,” he said sadly.

”I know.” My voice was barely audible, just a shade above a whisper. I was about to say more, perhaps even mention the secret letter in the toy cottage. He must have sensed something, for he spoke quickly to end our conversation.

”I'll see you day after tomorrow, Annie. I'm happy you'll be there with me. Good-bye until then.” ”Good-bye, Troy.”

I cradled the receiver slowly, my thoughts turning to Tony. Despite the madness and the lies, I couldn't help cry for him. Troy had been right: even though Tony was rich beyond imagination, he was lonely and lost, and very much like everyone else, searching for someone to love who would love him back.

Perhaps Rye Whiskey was right about the spirits at Farthy. Maybe they had finally ended Tony's torment by claiming him as one of their own.

Aunt f.a.n.n.y was upset when I told her I planned to attend Tony's funeral.

”No one know'd he was yer grandpappy, Annie. No one expects ya ta travel all the way ta see 'im buried.”

”I know who he was, Aunt f.a.n.n.y. I can't forget him and hate him. He did try to help me in his own way.”

”That place is poison. All them rich people destroy themselves one way or t'other. Not that I don't want ta be rich; it's jist the way those beantown phonies lived, thinkin' they was better'n everyone else. Makes them mad as hatters. I wish ya'd change yer mind 'bout it.”

She complained all day, but she saw I was adamant. Shortly after I spoke with Troy and learned of Tony's death, I phoned Luke. I almost didn't speak when he answered the phone. He sounded so sad and alone. My hand trembled at the sound of his voice, but I closed my eyes and spoke up. As soon as he heard my voice, his voice regained its strength and lightness.

”I've been trying to write you a letter for days, Luke, but nothing seems right.”

”I know. It's why I haven't spoken to you or written to you myself. But I'm glad you called. I'm trying to keep busy and to keep you out of my thoughts, but it's not easy. I'm so happy to hear your voice, Annie.”

”As I am to hear yours, but I'm not calling with happy news,” I said, and told him about Tony's death and Troy's phone call. ”Your mother is angry about my going and says she won't go back there. She's hoping I won't want to go myself, but I will. I can get around now with my cane, so traveling is easier.”

”I'll be there that morning to take you to Farthy,” Luke replied quickly.

”Oh, Luke, I knew you would.”

”I love you, Annie. I can't help it. I'll live with it and suffer with it until the day I die.”

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