Casteel 05 Web of Dreams

by V. C. Andrews

  "But Momma . . ."

  "I absolutely insist. Besides," she added smiling, "I have so many nice things I bought in Europe to show you and I want to tell you all about the spa and the people I met." Her smile evaporated.

  "I was very upset when Tony told me you revealed my true age to him, Leigh, but I can forgive you because it doesn't seem to matter to him as much as I feared it would. He really is a wonderful man. But I won't be able to forgive you if you keep up this . . this performance. So please, get yourself together and be down for dinner." She relaxed again and sighed deeply.

  "Oh, there's nothing like coming home after a long trip," she sang and left me.

  Home? Had she just referred to Farthinggale Manor as home? Hell was the better word! I stared at the spot Momma had just vacated. What had just happened? Was I dreaming? Was I trapped in another nightmare? Momma REFUSED to believe me. Instead of helping me she stayed behind the glass walls of her vain and shallow world, obsessed only with herself. HERSELF! Gone was the Momma I had always loved and adored, replaced by the stranger from my nightmare. I turned to my portrait doll.

  "Oh Angel," I cried. "If only you could talk. You're the only witness."

  But somehow, I thought, even if Angel could talk, Momma would find a way not to believe.

  She either didn't want to or didn't care. For me, it was one and the same.

  eighteen CONFRONTATIONS

  . I got up and dressed to go down to dinner. Even though I had eaten very little all day, I had no appetite, but I stupidly hoped that somehow I might still get Momma to see the truth. All she had to do was take a good look at my face, I thought. I had little enthusiasm when it came to brushing out my hair. It reflected my inner feelings, looking dull, drab and listless. I saw the fatigue and the emotional exhaustion in my eyes. With drooping shoulders, I left my suite and descended the stairway.

  To my surprise Momma was already at the table with Tony. I heard their laughter as I approached the dining room. As soon as I entered, they stopped and turned my way. Tony glanced at my mother and then smiled at me.

  "Leigh, feeling better?" he asked, turning his face into a mask of fatherly concern.

  I said nothing. I went to my seat and spread my napkin on my lap, feeling the weight of their eyes on me.

  "I was just telling Tony," my mother began, her voice light and cheery, "about the Walston twins. You remember them, I'm sure. I've mentioned them before. They're from Boston and their daddy has this estate home in Hyannis as well. One of their legs equals my entire body. The Walrus twins is what all of us at the spa called them. To see them in the steam room when they sat together!" she said throwing her head back and laughing. "I mean, every woman there felt twenty pounds thinner the moment she looked at them.

  "Anyway, the funniest part of all this is when it came time for them to leave, it was discovered that they had both gained five pounds apiece instead of losing. Seems they were smuggling in cakes and fudge from the nearby village. Can you imagine spending all that money and gaining five pounds?"

  Tony shook his head and laughed along with her. I couldn't believe how happy they seemed. Nothing I had said to Momma had taken hold. The rest of the evening continued this way. Momma told story after story about the rich women at the spa. Tony was a perfect audience, laughing at anything she said that was meant to be funny, growing serious when she grew serious.

  After she finished criticizing her fellow dieters, Tony went on and on about the success of the portrait dolls. Every once in a while, my mother would turn to me and widen her eyes to express her amazement and try to force an expression of appreciation out of me. But I refused to give in to her wishes. This once my wants and needs just had to come first. I knew what had happened to me was important, shattering. It broke my heart that she could shut out my pain so easily.

  "I'd like you to see some of the things I bought in Switzerland, Leigh," my mother declared after coffee was served. "They're in the blue room. I brought an expensive gift home for you, too."

  She rose to tell Curtis something as she left the dining room, and Tony and I got up as well. On the way out behind her, Tony took hold of my right arm at the elbow to keep me back so she couldn't hear what he had to say.

  "I just want you to know, Leigh, that I don't harbor any resentment toward you for what you told Jillian. She and I understand how it is with a girl who is literally exploding into womanhood." He smiled, his blue eyes soft and forgiving. His casual tone of voice was maddening. For a moment a lump came to choke my throat. I swallowed hard and bit down even harder on my tongue.

  "Coming, Leigh?" Mamma called.

  "Yes," I said and then I spun on him with fury. I allowed my eyes to meet his, sending fire and hate. A flame of anger shot through my chest. With ice in my words, I spoke. "You might have fooled her for the moment, but in time, she will believe me, for someone like you can't hide what he really is forever."

  He shook his head with a look of pity on his face that only infuriated me more.

  "I had hoped now that Ethan has returned, you would have a different attitude, but I can see everything they tell me about bringing up teenage girls nowadays is true. Nevertheless, I want you to know that I will always be understanding and sympathetic and never ridicule you."

  "You're despicable," I said behind clenched teeth. He continued to smile. Then he tried to take my arm to walk out with me, but I pulled away. "Don't touch me. Don't you ever try to touch me again."

  He nodded and gestured toward the entryway. I hurriedly joined my mother. Tony didn't follow us into the blue room where Momma had piled her purchases. I sat on the settee and watched as she unpacked sweaters, blouses, skirts and leather belts. She had bought works of art, small sculptures, jewelry boxes and ivory hand Mirrors. She gave me an elegant gold watch with diamonds. Every item had a story that went along with it, how she discovered it, what the store was like, what the other women thought when she bought it. She bragged about how the others followed her about, doing whatever she did, buying whatever she bought.

  "I found myself suddenly thrown into the role of guide," she boasted. "Can you imagine? All these terribly wealthy and well-traveled women depending on me to tell them what was chic, what was real art, and what was a good buy. Really, I should have taken a commission." She paused and looked at me as if for the first time.

  "You do look a little tired, Leigh. You should get some sun tomorrow. You shouldn't lock yourself up in your suite like that. It's not healthy. The air could be stifling and stale and that kind of air can do unbelievable damage to your skin. I had long discussions with experts at this wonderful spa," she said quickly before I could interrupt. "Did you ever notice that Swiss women have such perfect

  complexions? Some of it is a result of their diets," she continued as if I were a student in a class, "and some of it is because of their exercises, their fresh air, their steam baths and mudpacks.

  "I've already asked Tony to have a steam room built in my bathroom," she concluded.

  "Momma, I look this way because I went through a terrible experience. If you will just listen to me, really listen .....

  "You're not going to start all that again, are you, Leigh?" she said, pursing her lips in a pout. "I really can't stand it. I don't know how I'm still going on the little sleep and rest I've had since I left Switzerland. I've forced myself to be full of energy just for you and for Tony, but I'm tired now and I'm going up."

  "Momma."

  "Good night Leigh. I hope you enjoy your watch." She left me sitting there, surrounded by all the opened boxes and packages. I stuffed my new watch back into its box. Who cared about it? What did precious and expensive things mean now? Did she think gold, silver and diamonds made everything right, no matter what?

  I felt so frustrated, resembling a poor dumb person unable to get her thoughts and feelings out, her screams trapped in her own ears, all the doorways leading from her mind shut tight. I might as well be invisible, I thought. Momma won't look at me, won't listen t
o me, won't see the truth. She was blinded by the glitter and the glamour of her own life.

  Afterward, it was always the same whenever I tried to bring up the terrible thing that had happened to me. She wouldn't listen, or she would skip right on to another topic. Finally, I gave up. Most of the time, I went off alone to walk the beach or go horseback riding. The ocean air, the sound of the sea and the wonderfully hypnotic and meditative sight of the waves coming in and going out soothed and calmed me. I read, wrote in this diary, listened to my records and spent time with Troy.

  Jennifer called a number of times, but I didn't call her, nor did I call Joshua. He had called late in June to tell me he was going on a vacation with his family anyway and would be away for nearly a month. He had hoped to see me before he left, but I just couldn't see him. If he looked in my face he would see all that had happened, and hate me for it, I just knew it. I found solace and comfort in my solitude. Nature proved to be the mother and the father I no longer had, soothing my bruises, stroking me with her warm breezes and filling me with a sense of security I couldn't get back in the big house with its dark corners and giant rooms.

  Whenever I went for walks with Troy, I would follow behind him and listen to his childish babble, not really hearing his words so much as his innocent, happy voice. Those little rhythms were melodious and delightful. I loved to sit with him and look out at the ocean and answer his questions while I stroked his soft hair. In a way I wanted to be back in his world, a child's world, the world of dolls and toys and candy canes, a world without hard truths and ugly realities. All the bogeymen could be chased away with a warm embrace, a soft, reassuring kiss, a promise for tomorrow.

  Momma submerged herself in her social life again, attending her afternoon bridge parties, going to shows and shopping in Boston, hosting dinners for wealthy acquaintances and attending their dinners. She tried on a number of occasions to get me to join her and Tony when they went to a dinner at some rich estate. She claimed she wanted me to meet the sons and daughters of the upper classes, but declined every time.

  Tony kept his distance, barely talking to me, even avoiding looking at me, especially when he was with my mother. If I were alone and I saw him in the house, I would go the other way. Thankfully, the house was so large, it was possible to get lost in it whenever I wanted to. And I could wander the grounds, stay at the outdoor pool, go for a horseback ride and stay away all afternoon, or take one of my beach walks and avoid any contact with him.

  Then, at the start of the third week in July, he announced he was going to Europe for a quick business trip. Momma gave him a list of boutiques to go to and things to get her. He remarked that he would look for something special for me, too, but I didn't reply.

  A few days later, Daddy called from Houston, Texas. He was on his way back to the East Coast and wanted to make arrangements to see me. I had been writing him continually, trying to get him to call or write me back, but he hadn't responded until now.

  "I was on the move a great deal, Princess," he explained. "All your letters are probably one day behind me. Is everything all right?"

  "No, Daddy. I've got to see you," I said desperately. He was silent on the other end for a moment.

  "What is it?" he asked.

  "I can't talk about it over the phone, but I need to talk to you. I really do," I emphasized.

  "Your mother can't help you?"

  "She . . . no. . .she can't help me," I replied. My voice was dry, unemotional, deadly honest.

  "All right. I'll call you as soon as I get to Boston and we'll all meet for dinner. I'm due there the day after tomorrow."

  "Daddy, try to meet me by yourself," I pleaded.

  "Leigh, I'm married now and Mildred is a part of everything! do. She likes it that way. She gets very upset if I exclude her from anything, and she wants so much to get to know you. Won't you forget that we married so quickly and give her a chance?" he begged.

  "It's not that this time, Daddy. I . . . have some very personal things to discuss."

  "Mildred is part of my personal life, Leigh," he insisted. Once again, Daddy was clay in the hands of a woman, I thought.

  "All right, Daddy. Call me as soon as you arrive," I said. I had no choice and no one else to turn to.

  "Right. See you soon, Princess," he said and hung up.

  Knowing that Daddy was coming the day after tomorrow buoyed me. Surely, after I told him what had happened to me, he would demand that I remain with him. He wouldn't even permit me to return to Farthy that night and he would tell my mother that he was willing to go to any lengths now to win me away from her legally. I didn't know how much better my life would be, but at least I would be away from Farthy and Tony.

  I was cheerful and energetic for the first time since Tony had forced himself on me. I did laps in the pool, went for a fast horseback ride, and took Troy for a long beach walk, collecting seashells. I had the best appetite I had had in weeks, asking for seconds and eating dessert. Momma noticed a change, but I didn't tell her about Daddy's impending arrival.

  I woke up early on the morning of Daddy's arrival in Boston. I thought I would have Miles drive me into the city the moment Daddy phoned. I had already dressed, eaten breakfast, and taken a short walk with Troy by the time lr y mother came down. In the afternoon, she was having some friends over for bridge and I knew that meant she would spend hours preparing herself.

  Just before lunch, Curtis called me to the phone. I was standing outside with Troy, watching the gardeners work. "Is it my father?" I asked eagerly.

  "He simply said he was calling for Mr. VanVoreen," Curtis replied in his usual nondescript manner of speaking. I hurried into the house and to the nearest phone, which was in the living room.

  "Hello," I said. "This is Leigh."

  "Miss VanVoreen. My name is Chester Goodman. I work for your father and he has asked me to call you."

  "Yes?" I said, impatient with the formalities. I didn't care what his name was. All I wanted were the details.

  "He sends his regrets. He won't be able to see you today."

  What?" I felt the color drain from my face. My chest felt so cold and empty, I was sure my heart herd stopped beating. "Why? I must see him. I must!" I insisted. "Please, tell him, put him on the phone. I demand to speak with him."

  "I'm sorry, Miss VanVoreen, but he is no longer here. One of the VanVoreen ocean liners has broken down in the Pacific. There is a rescue operation on the way and he had to fly out to the coast on an

  emergency."

  "Oh, no!

  "He said to tell you he will phone you the first chance he gets. Miss VanVoreen?"

  I didn't reply. I cradled the receiver and sat back in the chair by the telephone, dazed. Didn't Daddy hear the desperation in my voice? Why couldn't he see to it that he met with rue first somehow, or why hadn't he simply taken me along with him? We could have talked on the airplane. Why was his business more important than his daughter?

  A frightening thought suddenly occurred to me. Maybe he knew; maybe he had always known that I wasn't really his daughter and maybe that was why he didn't put me at the top of his list of most important things.

  I buried my face in my hands.

  "Leigh?"

  It was Troy, standing in the doorway.

  "Are you coming back out now?"

  I looked up at him,

  "No," I said. "I'm not feeling well. I've got to go up and lie down awhile."

  His face drooped. "Will you come out later?"

  "I don't know, Troy. I'm sorry," I said and walked to the stairway. I didn't look back. I couldn't stand the sight of any more sadness.

  It seemed to take me forever to go up the stairway. I was walking in such a stupor, I didn't realize I had reached my suite. Suddenly, I found myself standing in the bedroom. I went to my bed and lay back on the pillow. My head had begun to ache and my stomach felt funny. It felt as if there were a dozen butterflies in it, all trying to find a way out. Their wings tickled as they flapped about frantical
ly.

  I felt just as trapped. How could I ever feel any worse than this? I thought.

  But I did, and as soon as the next morning. I hadn't gotten my eyes open a few seconds before it came over me: this wave of nausea. Wave after wave came, building and building until I had to get up quickly and run to the bathroom to vomit. I felt so sick I thought I was going to die. Finally, it subsided and I made my way back to bed to rest until I felt strong enough to get up again.

  What was it? Something I had eaten? Why would it come and go like that anyway? I wondered.

  And then something struck me. I had forgotten all about it because I had been so occupied with other things this past month and a half.

  My period was overdue.

  And now morning sickness! Oh no, I thought. I'm pregnant!

  I waited three more days before telling my mother, hoping and praying what I feared wasn't true, but the nausea greeted me each morning and even recurred sometimes during the afternoon. There was no mistaking the calendar either. No matter how hard or long I looked at the dates, I confronted the same fact: my period was long overdue and I had never been irregular before.

  Finally, I realized I could avoid it no longer. Oddly enough, when I envisioned telling Momma, my first thought was that this would now confirm what she had refused to believe: Tony had raped me. I couldn't have gotten pregnant myself. Of course, I would have rather she went on doubting me than having this proof, but since it had happened, there was no point in not using it to drive home the truth, once and for all.

  She was getting ready for a charity cocktail party she was hosting here at Farthy in the afternoon. I found her seated at her vanity table, studying a new way to wear her hair. She didn't acknowledge me when I entered, nor did she hear me when I called to her.

  "Momma, please!" I exclaimed. Her eyelids fluttered and she spun around.

  "What is it, Leigh? Can't you see I'm getting ready for my guests? I don't have time for any nonsense," she barked.

  "This isn't nonsense, Momma," I said, my voice heavy, cold. She saw how serious I was and put down her brush.