Casteel 01 Heaven

by V. C. Andrews

  My feet chose a roundabout way so I'd have to pass by Stonewall Pharmacy. My pulse quickened as I neared the familiar store. I was just strolling by, truthfully not expecting to see Logan just because I was thinking about him and wondering what kind of boy he was by this time. I glanced inside the wide glass windows, my heart almost in my mouth, and didn't see him. I sighed, and then I caught the interested stare of two dark blue eyes belonging to a handsome young man who was stepping out of a sporty dark blue car. I froze, staring back at--Logan Grant Stonewall.

  Oh, gosh!

  He seemed caught in the same dream I was, both of us staring, disbelieving.

  "Heaven Leigh Casteel . . is that you, or am I dreaming?"

  "It's me. Is that you, Logan?"

  His face irisIantly brightening, he came quickly to me, grasping both my hands and holding them tightly as he stared into my eyes, then pulled in his breath. "You've grown up . . . really grown up to be so beautiful." He blushed, stammered, and then smiled. "I don't know why I'm surprised; I always knew you'd grow more beautiful."

  I was shy, snared in a spider's web of my own making, wanting to ffing myself into his arms as he held them out inviting me to do just that. "Thank you for answering all my letters . . or most of them."

  He looked disappointed because I didn't make the next move. "When I got your note saying you were bringing Kitty Dennison back here, I wrote and told Tom."

  "So did I," I whispered, still staring at how handsome he was, how tall and strong-looking. I felt shamed and sick that I'd not held Cal off, to wait for this clean, pure, shining kind of love that would have been so right. I lowered my eyes, terrified he might see something that I didn't want him to see. I trembled with the guilt I felt, then backed off a foot or more so as not to contaminate him with my sins. "Sure will be wonderful to see lbm again," I said weakly, trying to pull my hands from his grip as he stepped forward to hold them even tighter.

  "Not so wonderful to see me again?" Gently he tugged me closer, until he released my hands only to slide his arms about my waist. "Look at me, Heaven. Don't look down. Why are you acting as if you don't love me anymore? I've been waiting so long for this day, wondering what I'd say, and what you'd say, and how we'd act . . . and now you're not meeting my eyes. All the time you've been gone I've thought of no one else. Sometimes I go to your cabin and wander about in those abandoned rooms, thinking of you and how tough you had it, and how brave you were, never complaining or feeling sorry for yourself. Heaven, you're like a rose, a wild, beautiful rose, sweeter and more lovely than any other. Please, put your arms around me. Kiss me, say you still love me!"

  Everything I'd ever dreamed he'd say, he said, and again I was flooded with guilt--if he knew the truth--and yet I couldn't resist the pleading in his eyes, or the urging of my own romantic nature that said, yes, Logan! I flung my arms about him and felt myself lifted up and swung around. My head lowered so I could put my lips on his, and I kissed him so passionately I think it took his breath away, though he returned my kiss with even more fervor. His eyes shone when we separated, and he was breathing heavily.

  "Oh, Heaven, this is the way I knew it would be . . ." he whispered breathlessly.

  Now we were both speechless, our young bodies calling to each other. He pulled me against him so I could feel his excitement. It reminded me of Cal. This wasn't what I wanted! I tried to draw away, cringing as I shoved against him, shuddering and overwhelmed with a wild kind of terror, not only of Logan but of every man. Don't touch me that way! I wanted to yell. Just kiss me, embrace me, and let that be enough!

  Of course he didn't understand my resistance. I could tell from the startled way his eyes widened, but he let me go. "I apologize, Heaven," he said in a low, humble way. "I suppose I forgot it's been two years and eight months since we'd seen each other--but in your letters you sounded as if we'd never feel like strangers . . ."

  I tried to sound normal and not terrified. "It's been great seeing you again, Logan, but I'm in kind of a hurry . . ."

  "You mean you're leaving? And we're only going to have these few minutes together? Heaven, didn't you hear me say I love you?"

  "I have to go, really I do."

  "Wherever you're going, I'm going too."

  NO! Leave me alone, Logan! You don't want me now!

  "I'm sorry, Logan. I'm going to see Fanny, and then Grandpa . . . and I think it's best if I see Fanny alone. Perhaps tomorrow . . ?"

  "No perhaps, definitely a date. Early tomorrow, say eight o'clock, so we can spend the day together. You said a lot in your letters, but not nearly enough. Heaven--"

  I whirled around, trying to smile. "I'll see you tomorrow early. See you all day, if that's what you want."

  "If that's what I want? Of course that's what I want! Heaven, don't look at me like that! As if I frighten you! What's wrong? Don't tell me nothing is! You've changed! You don't love me now, and you haven't got the nerve to tell me!"

  I sobbed, "That's not true."

  "Then what is it?" he demanded, his young face taking on a more mature look. "If we don't talk about it, whatever it is will put up a wall that sooner or later we'll never be able to climb."

  "Good-bye, Logan," I threw out, hurrying away. "Where?" he called out, sounding desperate. "Here or the Setterton place?"

  "Come there. Any time after seven," I said with a nervous laugh. "I'll be up early to help with Kitty."

  If only I'd come back to him still innocent, still a girl he could teach . . . and yet, even so, it felt good, really good, to walk away knowing his eyes were following me with admiration so strong I could almost feel it reaching out and touching me. His devotion warmed my heart. Then I heard him running to catch up. "What will it hurt if I walk you to the parsonage, then disappear? I can't wait until tomorrow to hear the truth. Heaven . . . you told me that day in your cabin that your pa sold Keith and Our Jane, Fanny and Tom--were you sold?"

  "Yes," I said shortly, putting too much misdirected anger in my voice because he could still doubt, even now. "Sold, like an animal, for five hundred bucks! I was carted away to work like a slave for a crazy woman who hates Pa as much as I do!"

  "Why are you yelling at me? I didn't sell you! I'm terribly sorry that you've suffered--but damned if I can see that you have! You look terrific, wearing expensive, beautiful clothes, like a debutante, and you come and tell me you've been sold and treated like a slave. If all slaves end up looking like beauty queens, maybe all girls should be sold into slavery."

  "What an insensitive remark to make, Logan Stonewall!" I snapped, feeling as mean as Kitty at her worst. "I used to think you were so kind and understanding! Just because you can't see my scars doesn't mean I don't have them!" Now I was crying, my words breaking. And only a few minutes ago he had been so sweet. Unable to say more, and angry at myself for always losing my control and breaking into childish tears, I turned away again.

  "Heaven . . . don't turn away. I'm sorry. Forgive me for being insensitive. Give me another chance. We'll talk it out, like we used to do."

  For his own good, I should run off and never see him again, and yet I couldn't let go of a boy I'd loved from the moment I'd first seen him. And with differences forgotten for the moment, side by side we walked until we came to the fine house of Reverend Wayland Wise.

  He held my hand as I stared at the parsonage.

  A pure white house, a pious house, a grand house, surrounded by two acres of beautiful flower gardens and manicured lawns. This house made Kitty's home in Candlewick seem a shack. I sighed. Sighed again for Fanny, who was now a young lady of sixteen and four months, and Tom, like me, was seventeen, and Keith would soon be twelve, Our Jane eleven. Oh, to see them again, to know they were healthy, happy.

  But first Fanny.

  Now that I was here, I could only stand and stare at the grandest house in all of Winnerrow. Corinthian columns lined the long porch. The steps up were made of intricately laid red bricks. Red geraniums and red petunias grew in huge terra-cotta planters. On
the porch were sturdy-looking white wicker chairs with high fancy peacock backs.

  In the huge old trees birds were chirping; a yellow canary in a white wicker cage hung from the porch ceiling began its cheerful song. It startled me to hear that singing from such a high place; the bird had been put there, I guessed, to keep it safe from cats and drafts. All her life Fanny had wanted a canary in a white cage; now she had one.

  But for the singing of the birds, there were no other noises.

  How silent this great house that gave no hint of its inhabitants.

  How was it that such a lovely house could appear so threatening?

  nineteen Found Casteels

  . SEVERAL TIMES I JABBED AT THAT DOORBELL. As I STOOD and waited for what seemed an eternity, I grew more than impatient. Every so often I looked to see if Logan had gone away as I hoped he would, but he hadn't. He leaned against a tree, smiling when I glanced his way.

  Faint footsteps sounded inside the house. I stiffened and listened more closely. Slow, sneaky steps . . . then the heavy oak door opened just a wee slot. Dark sloe eyes peered out at me, glittering narrowed eyes that appeared suspicious, unfriendly. Only Fanny had almost black eyes like that, only Fanny--and Pa. "Go way," said the voice that was undeniably Fanny's.

  "It's me --Heaven," I called excitedly. "I've come to see you, to find out how you are. You can't send me away."

  "Go way," Fanny whispered more insistently. "Kin do what I want. An I don't wanna see ya! Don't know ya anymore! Don't need ya anymore! I'm Louisa Wise now. I've got everythin I eva wanted. An I don't want ya comin round t'mess it up."

  She could still sting me with her mean, selfish words and ways. Always I'd believed that, underneath all her hostility and jealousy, Fanny loved me. Life had warped her in ways different than it had me.

  "Fanny, I'm your sister," I pleaded in a low voice, ashamed Logan would overhear her

  "welcome." "I need to talk to you, to see you, and know if you've heard anything about Keith and Our Jane."

  "Don't know nothin," whispered Fanny, opening the door a bit wider. "Don't wanna know nothin. Jus go way, leave me alone."

  I could see my younger sister had grown into a very pretty girl with long black hair and a figure shapely enough to break many a man's heart. That Fanny would break many hearts without remorse had always been my expectation. Still, I was hurt that Fanny would refuse to let me enter the house, and showed no interest at all in how I'd been, or where I'd been.

  "Have you seen Tom?"

  "Don't wanna see Tom."

  I winced, again stung. "I wrote you time and

  time again, Fanny Casteel! Didn't you receive my letters?" I demanded, forcefully holding the door open so she couldn't slam it in my face. "Damn you, Fanny! What kind of person are you anyway? When people are kind and thoughtful enough to write letters, the least you can do is answer--unless you just don't give a damn!"

  "Guess ya got t'picture," snapped Fanny in reply.

  "Now, you wait a minute, Fanny! You can't slam the door in my face! I'm not going to let you!"

  "Ya neva wrote me, not once!" she cried, then turned to look over her shoulder with alarm. Her voice lowered to a whisper again. "Ya gotta go, Heaven." Urgency was in her eyes, a look of fright. "They're upstairs sleepin. The Reverend an his wife hate t'be reminded of who I am. They've done warned me not t'eva talk t'ya, or any otha Casteel. Neva have heard from Pa since I came." She wiped at a tear that came to the corner of one eye and slid like a dewdrop on her cheek. "I used t'think Pa loved me best; seems he don't." Another tear formed that she didn't wipe away. "Glad ya look good." Her eyes swept over my face before her full red lips thinned a bit.

  "Gotta go now. Don't want em t'wake up an scold me fer talkin t'ya. Ya jus take yerself out of here, Heaven Leigh--don't wanna know ya; wish I'd never known ya; kin't remember nothin good about ya an those ole days when we were younguns in t'hills. Only rememba stinks an hunger, an cold feet, an neva enough of anythin."

  Quickly I thrust my foot in the door when Fanny would have slammed it shut with more force than my hands alone could resist. "You wait a minute, Fanny Louisa Casteel! I've thought about you night and day for more than two long years--you can't tell me to go away! I want to know how you've been, if you've been treated fairly. I care about you, Fanny, even if you don't care about me. I remember the good times 'when we lived in the hills, and try to forget all the bad. I remember when we used to snuggle up together to keep warm, and I love you, even if you always were a damned pain in the neck."

  "Ya get off this porch," sobbed Fanny, crying openly now. "Kin't do nothin fer ya, kin't."

  She brutally kicked my foot out of the way and slammed the door. The inside lock was turned, and I stood alone on the porch.

  Almost blind with tears, I stumbled down the steps, and Logan was there, sweeping me into his arms and trying to comfort me. "Damn her for talking like that to you--damn her!"

  I yanked away, hurting so much from Fanny's indifference I could hardly keep from screaming. What good did it do to dole out so much love to people who turned against you the moment they no longer needed you?

  What did I care if I'd lost Fanny? She'd never been a loving sister anyway . . . why did I hurt so much? "Go away, Logan!" I yelled, swinging my fists at him when he tried to embrace me again. "I don't need you--don't need anybody!"

  I turned from him, but he seized me by my arm and swung me around so his strong arms drew me against him. "Heaven!" he cried. "What's wrong? What have I done?"

  "Let me go," I pleaded weakly.

  "Now, look," he urgently pleaded, "you're taking out your anger on me when it's Fanny who hurt you. She's always been a hateful sister--hasn't she? I guess I knew all the way here she'd act like she did. I'm sorry you're so hurt, but do you have to turn on me? I wanted to hang around and be here when you needed me. Need me, Heaven! Don't slap out at me! I haven't done anything but admire, respect, and love you. I could never really believe your pa would sell his kids. I guess I do now. Forgive me for not fully believing until today."

  I yanked away. "You mean in all this time you haven't talked to Fanny about me?"

  "I've tried many a time to talk to her about you . but you know how Fanny is. She takes everything and turns it around until she makes herself believe it's her I want to hear about, and not you. Fanny doesn't care about anyone but herself." He blushed and stared down at his feet. "I've found out it's better to leave Fanny alone."

  "She still comes on strong, right?" I asked bitterly, guessing that Fanny must have been her usual aggressive self with him. . . and I wondered if he'd fallen, like all the others.

  "Yeah," he said, raising his eyes. "Takes a lot of resisting to hold Fanny off . . . and the best way to do that is to stay miles away."

  "From temptation?"

  "Stop! I do what I can to keep girls like Fanny out of my life. Since you went away, I keep hoping someday a girl named Heaven will be the one to really love me. Somebody sweet and innocent; somebody who knows how to care and how to give. Somebody I can respect. How can I respect anyone like Fanny?"

  Oh, God help me! How could he respect me . . . now?

  We walked away from Reverend Wise's home and didn't even glance back. Obviously Fanny had adjusted well to her new life.

  "Logan, now Fanny's ashamed of her old family," I said with tears in my voice. "I thought she'd be glad to see me. There were times when she and I did nothing but fight, but we're blood kin, and I love her just the same."

  Again he tried to hold me, to kiss me. I held him off and turned my face aside.

  "Do you happen to know where my grandfather is?" I asked in a small voice.

  "Sure I know. I visit him from time to time so I can talk to him about you, and often I help sell his whittled animals. He's good, you know, really an artist with that knife of his. And he's expecting you. His eyes lit up when I told him you were coming. He said he was going to take a bath, wash his hair, and put on clean clothes."

  Again my thr
oat constricted . . . Grandpa was going to take a bath without urging? On his own going to wash his hair and change his clothes?

  "Have you seen or heard from Miss Deale?"

  "She isn't here anymore," he said, keeping my hand tightly in his. "She left before you did, remember? Nobody's heard from her since. I go by our old school every once in a while, just for old times' sake, and sit on a swing and remember how it used to be. Like I said before, I've even been up to your cabin, and walked in your empty rooms--"

  "Oh, why did you do that!" I cried, so ashamed.

  "I went there to understand, and I think I do. To think that someone as smart and beautiful as you could come from such as that cabin, and Tom as well, fills me with awe, and so much respect. I don't know if I could have come out of that with all your courage, and all your drive, and when I see Tom--"

  "You've seen Tom? When?" I asked eagerly.

  "Sure, and soon you'll see him too." He smiled sadly when he saw my expression. "Don't cry. He's fine, and quite a guy, Heaven. You just wait and see."

  We were approaching Martin's Road, which was one of the lesser, poorer areas, about twelve blocks from where Fanny lived in the grandest house of all. "Mrs. Sally Trench runs a nursing home, and she's the one who takes care of your grandpa. I've heard that your father sends money once a month to pay for his stay there."

  "I don't care what my father does." But it surprised me to know he could be that caring . . . sending money to support an old man he'd seldom noticed.

  "Of course you care about your father, but you won't admit it. Maybe he did take the wrong road out, but you're alive and well. Fanny seems happy enough to me, and so does Tom. And when you find Keith and Our Jane, no doubt you'll be amazed at how well they both are. Heaven, you've got to learn to expect the best, not the worst; that's the only way you'll give yourself a chance to be happy instead of miserable."

  My heart felt heavy, my soul wounded, as I glanced his way. Once I'd believed that kind of philosophy . . . now I didn't. I had tried his way of thinking with Kitty and Cal, doing my best to please both of them, and fate had tricked me, maybe tricked all of us. How could I restore the trusting innocence I'd lost? How could I turn back the clock and this time say no to Cal?