Web of Dreams

by V. C. Andrews

  "I can't." She turned away. "I'm sorry. I just can't. You'll understand later."

  "Why? What do you mean?" My heart was in a frantic pitter-patter. Why later? What horrible news awaited?

  "For now, just let it be, Leigh. Enjoy the rest of this vacation. I'll meet you at the dock when you return." She took my face between her hands and kissed my cheek. "Now, be a good girl and promise you won't do any repair work while I'm not around."

  "Oh, Momma." I was crying now, crying so hard thought I might not ever stop, and I couldn't keep myself from calling her by the name from my childhood. Oh, why couldn't I be back in that happy, safe, childhood!

  "I've left you some of my costume jewelry to wear on your nights out. Be careful with it." She absentmindedly stroked my head a bit but I could tell she was intent on her plans.

  "Thank you, Momma." I lowered my head in defeat. Nothing I could do or say would make her change her mind. I felt so helpless and alone; but more than feeling sorry for myself, I felt sorry for Daddy. It would be so embarrassing for him to face his passengers once they all learned that his wife had left the ship and taken an airplane back to Boston. And he couldn't very well say she was so sick she had to leave. Looking like a fashion plate, she was walking off the liner. There could easily have been photographers from one of the glamour magazines snapping her picture as she descended to the dock. I decided right then to try hard not to embarrass him myself, to try to pull myself together.

  "You're only going to be here three days, Leigh, and you have made some friends aboard, haven't you? You told me about the Spenser sisters and I had the captain report to me about their family. They're quite well-to-do.

  "I'm only in everyone's way here," she added. "It's not fair to you and it's not fair to me.

  Understand?"

  I nodded, reluctantly. I couldn't believe she was making these feeble excuses to me. I didn't

  understand. Why was she doing this? Why was she doing something that would hurt Daddy and me so much? It seemed the older a person became, the more difficult it was to be happy. Would that be the way for me as well?

  "Good. Now help me leave. Take that small bag that contains my makeup, please."

  We walked out together. I felt so empty inside. Oh Momma, it hurts so that you're leaving. Doesn't she care about us? I thought. There was something in the way Momma turned at the door to look back at the suite that told me she was saying "Good riddance."

  I was surprised that Daddy wasn't waiting on the deck. How could she leave without kissing him goodbye? She didn't even look for him. She just started down the gangway to the dock and the awaiting taxi cab.

  "Momma, where's Daddy?" My eyes looked frantically all over the deck, but he wasn't in sight.

  "We said our goodbyes earlier," she replied quickly. She took the makeup bag from me. "Be a good girl. See you soon. I promise, I will make this up to you in ways you could never begin to imagine, Leigh."

  It sounded like a good thing, but it frightened me even more to hear her say it.

  She kissed me again and then hurried to get into the taxi, looking ever so happy when she peeked out of the window to wave. I stood watching her go off. Then I turned back to the ship. High up in the bridge, Daddy peered down, his face like the face of a stone statue--cold, lifeless, dejected, aged and worn by sorrowful times. He looked so gray and so old to me. The tears that streaked down my cheeks felt like drops of ice. What was happening to our happy, wonderful life? I used to believe the words "Once upon a time" had been created just for me. Now, I was afraid to include them in my own diary, afraid of what they had come to mean.

  Even though I was angry at Momma for walking off the ship and leaving Daddy and me this way, I couldn't help but miss her. Whenever we had gone on one of Daddy's cruises, we always did so much together. It was so much fun shopping with her, and she would always find some fashionable place for us to lunch, no matter where we were. While we sat there, Momma would look about and comment about this one person or that, describing who she thought they were, what they did for a living, how much money they made, how sophisticated they were. Whenever I was with Mamma, people became interesting.

  Mamma had a way of carrying herself in restaurants and stores when we were on vacation that made waiters and maitre d's and sales clerks think they were waiting on someone either very famous or royal. She spoke a little French and a little Italian, learning from the "Teach Yourself a Language" records she played over and over back home. Even if she mispronounced something or said something totally incorrect, she did it in such a way that the French person or the Italian person didn't correct her. And whenever she made a purchase or gave an order at a restaurant, she always made a point of leaning toward me and whispering something about what she had done, so I would learn from it.

  It was no wonder then that I felt this great emptiness in my heart when she walked of the ship. Suddenly all the things I was looking forward to held no interest for me. And now there was Daddy to cheer up.

  The first day he kept himself busy with all the arrangements for the excursions the passengers would make and the docking of the ship. The Spenser sisters and their parents invited me to go to dinner with them in Montego Bay, but I didn't want to leave Daddy this first night without Momma, even though he insisted I go. Mrs. Spenser had asked him for permission to take me, so he knew about it. We didn't get a chance to really talk until late in the afternoon. I joined him in the captain's office, and after he and the captain had completed their discussions and the captain left, we remained.

  "You should go to dinner with your girlfriends, Leigh. I want you to enjoy yourself here."

  "But Daddy, I thought we would go to dinner together." "I have to stay on board and do some other things," he replied. "I intend to just grab a quick bite."

  "I'll grab one with you and help you do whatever you have to do," I insisted.

  "No, that's not right," Daddy said. He shook his head. He looked so tired, so worn down by the day's events. Shadows deep and dark settled in his eyes. The walls of my heart quivered. I held the tears within and swallowed, and then I tried to find a voice that wouldn't tremble and sound like a little girl's voice.

  "Why did Momma have to leave us like that, Daddy? Couldn't you have gotten the ship's doctor to talk to her?"

  He shook his head.

  "It wasn't just her bout with seasickness, Leigh. She wasn't very happy about this cruise from the start."

  "But why, Daddy? She always talked about it, didn't she? She wanted to come to Jamaica. So many of her friends had been here," I insisted. "Didn't she once pin up that magazine ad in your office, the one that said 'Come to Jamaica--it's no place like home'?"

  Daddy nodded, remembering. Then he sighed.

  "If she could have been a passenger instead of the owner's wife, she would have been happier about it," he said sadly.

  "But why, Daddy? She didn't really have to work and we have the best ship's quarters anyone can have. You did everything she wanted you to do."

  "I'm afraid not, Leigh. Your mother continues to be disappointed in me."

  "But why?" I cried. "You give us everything. We have a beautiful home and we can buy almost anything we want. All my friends are envious."

  "Sometimes, those things are just not enough," he said. He looked at me for a long moment and then he warmed me with a smile. "Sometimes, especially when you are frustrated, you look so much like her, and yet, you are so different."

  "We are?" I was surprised to hear him say that. He was always saying we were like sisters now, especially in front of Momma. Was it because I hadn't yet grown to like all the things she liked as much as she liked them?

  "How are we different, Daddy? I know she's so pretty and . . ."

  "Oh no," he said quickly, "it has nothing to do with that. You're going to be far more beautiful than your mother." It shocked me to hear him say that so sincerely. Me? More beautiful than Momma?

  "And you won't have to work at it as hard or as long. Not t
hat your mother isn't blessed with natural beauty. Far from it. She's just more involved in herself than you will be."

  "How can you be so sure, Daddy?" I really wanted to know because although I believed he was right, I wasn't sure myself.

  "You've got other interests, Leigh. You have an inquisitive mind. You'll be too impatient to learn about other things. Not that you're anything near the tomboy your mother thinks I'm turning you into. No sir. You're every bit a young lady."

  Even though our subject was an unhappy one these words from him went straight to my heart and filled it with warmth and love.

  He sat back in the captain's oxblood leather chair.

  "Your mother is still a very young woman, Leigh. Years ago, when I first set eyes on her in Texas, I didn't seriously consider the differences in our age or think it would be a problem. Perhaps that was the blindness of love.

  "Love can be like that, you know, like a blast of sunlight reflecting off the water. You can't look directly into it; you've got to shade your eyes or close them altogether, and when you do that, you see only what you want to see. Do you understand? Are you old enough to understand what I'm saying, Leigh?" he asked.

  I nodded. Daddy and I rarely had these sort of serious, adult talks. If ever he would begin to tell me something very serious, he would stop and say, "Oh well, I suppose your mother will tell you about that soon."

  "Maybe you do understand," he said smiling. "I think you're a lot brighter than your mother or I think."

  "But Daddy, what does all of that have to do with what's happening now?"

  "Well, as I said, your mother was still quite young. She matured quickly, of course, but I was already quite settled in my ways. When a man is settled in his ways, it's difficult, if not impossible, for him to change. As your mother grew older, she wanted me to make some changes, be a different person in many ways. I tried, but it's not in my nature, I'm afraid, and that has made your mother very unhappy."

  "What ways, Daddy?"

  "What ways? Well, for example, she would love me to take her on one of these cruises and act like just another passenger . . . sleep late every day, eat and then recline on the deck or play shuffleboard. In the evening, she would like me to take her dancing and dance all night into the wee hours, drinking champagne, and then sleep late again, and not ask one question of my staff about the business or the conduct of the voyage."

  He smiled.

  "At times she can be so childlike, so hungry for excitement and fun. I've never seen a woman who has your mother's appetite when it comes to enjoyment and pleasure. I couldn't give her enough diamonds or take her to too many fine restaurants. She's insatiable.

  "Oh, I understand her. Your mother is young, beautiful, vivacious. On the other hand, here I am working long hours, deeply involved in a major family-owned enterprise, with little time for frivolities. If your mother had her way," he added shaking his head, "I'd play five hours for every hour worked. But, I'm afraid I can't do that, and even if I could, I probably wouldn't, not only because I'm too old for it, but because it's not part of who I am.

  "And so, to answer your question, that's why your mother is disappointed," he concluded and smiled softly at me.

  I couldn't keep the tears hidden any longer. As soon as the first one appeared, Daddy got up and came to me.

  "Now, now, let's not have any of tin. t. Don't make me regret having this grown-up talk with you, Leigh."

  "I won't, Daddy." I wiped my eyes quickly and held back the rest of my tears. My heart ached, but I smiled. "What's going to happen now, Daddy?" I asked.

  "We'll see. Your mother wanted to have some time by herself to think things out. In the meantime, young Captain VanVoreen, you and I have a cruise to run, understand?"

  "Yes, addy."

  "Now, here's my first command. You go with your girlfriends and their parents to dinner and enjoy yourself."

  "But what if they start asking me questions about Momma?" I asked. He thought for a moment.

  "You say, there were some serious family matters back home that had to have immediate attention. No one would ask you any more than that, and if they did, just tell them your parents didn't tell you more.

  "So," he said clapping his hands together, "that should take care of that. Tomorrow you can go shopping in the bazaar and buy all your friends back home something, if you'd like. In the afternoon you can go swimming on the beach, and then in the evening, you and I will go to an authentic Jamaican restaurant and eat something called jerk chicken. One of the porters who happens to come from Jamaica was telling me about it. How does all that sound?"

  "Wonderful, Daddy."

  "Good. Now get on with you. I want a full report afterward. How's that logbook of yours? Filling up?"

  "Oh yes, I write in it every day."

  "Good." He kissed me on the cheek and I hugged him tightly and inhaled his familiar scents-- the fragrance of his after-shave and cologne, the aroma of his pipe tobacco, and that fresh and clean smell of the sea.

  I wished he and I had had talks like this before. In one way Momma was very right to be jealous of the time he spent on his business. t Wished he had spent more time with me and told me about himself when he was my age and younger. I realized he had never really given me his version of the Cinderella story between him and Momma. Perhaps I could get him to do that someday. Daddy was so modest though. Would he really describe what it was like when he first set eyes on Momma? And would he be willing to describe himself proposing on his knees? He never really expressed any dislike for Grandma Jana or Momma's two sisters. Whenever she ranted and raved about them in front of him and me, he would simply nod or look away. I wanted to know so much more. Hopefully, now that he saw me as older and more mature, he would talk about these things.

  My little talk with Daddy in the captain's office did cheer me up enough so that I could go to dinner with the Spensers. They took me to a delightful Italian restaurant called The Casablanca. The tables were set out under the stars and there was a small three-piece band and a singer who crooned romantic songs. Mr. and Mrs. Spenser danced so closely and were so loving and tender with each other, my girlfriends were embarrassed. They giggled like grade school children. I could understand why they were self-conscious about their parents, but I thought it was wonderful to see a husband and wife so loving and affectionate with each other. I couldn't help but close my eyes and imagine they were my parents, imagine Momma and Daddy on this small dance floor with the stars twinkling above and the singer serenading them with songs of love.

  Daddy had said love blinds you. When you fall in love, do you have a chance to think about all these things? Do you have a chance to envision what it will be like years and years from now? The way Momma now spoke about Daddy made me feel that if she could have seen what it would be like when he first proposed, she might not have accepted, even if it meant her remaining in Texas with her dreadful sisters.

  "When I fall in love," I told the Spenser sisters, "I want it to be just like it is for your parents." They both looked at me, undecided as to whether or not to laugh. They were laughing at everything at this point. My serious expression kept them from doing much more than smiling, although imagined they would talk about me later in their stateroom. It was true we were all about the same age, but I felt so much older than they were.

  It was all so confusing for me. Maybe age wasn't important if you had grown up. Maybe what Daddy was telling me back on the ship was that he thought Momma hadn't yet grown up, or grown up the way he had hoped she would.

  The music and the stars began to make me sad now. I was happy when it was time to return to the ship. Daddy saw us come aboard and spoke with Mr. and Mrs. Spenser for a while, thanking them for taking me to dinner. Then he asked me how I enjoyed it.

  "It was fun," I told him, half telling the truth, half lying. "lut I can't wait until tomorrow night when it will just be you and me, Daddy."

  "Oh dear," he said, "it will have to be the following night. I'm sorry. But we ha
ve a very important guest coming to dinner aboard ship tomorrow night--the governor of the Island. You understand, don't you, Princess?"

  I swallowed my disappointment quickly and put on a mask of smiles just the way Momma could.

  "Yes, Daddy. I'm tired," I told him. "I'll just go to sleep."

  He kissed me good night and then went off to check on something in the kitchen. I hurried down to my suite and shut the door behind me. Then I fell on my bed and cried. I wasn't crying over any one thing, but all of it--crying over Momma's leaving us, crying over seeing someone else's parents so happily in love, crying over Daddy's frustration and unhappiness with Momma and her unhappiness with him, crying over his not being able to be with only me.

  After I had cried ten oceans of tears, I was finally tired out and I curled up in my bed, hugging my stuffed sailor teddy bear, I could hear the ballroom dance band playing something soft and lovely above and I could hear the water lapping against the sides of the ship below, and if I listened even harder, I could hear the beating of my heart.

  Nothing could have made me feel more lonely. I was happy to fall asleep.

  five ALMOST AN ORPHAN

  . I tried very hard to keep myself occupied during our remaining time in Montego Bay so that I wouldn't keep thinking about Momma's going home, because whenever I did, my heart felt like a brick in my chest. The Spenser sisters and I finally made friends with two boys who at first seemed very disinterested in us, probably because they were high school age and thought it was beneath them to associate with younger girls. They both attended a prep school outside of Boston and had their noses in the air. A number of times before, I had seen them side by side in lounge chairs on the deck or playing chess, but they never paid me or the Spenser sisters the slightest attention.

  The taller of the two, a boy with very thin, light brown hair and hazel eyes, introduced himself as Fulton Wittington, Jr. His friend, Raymond Hunt, was much stouter and far less good-looking, but a lot more informal and relaxed. I think he liked me because it was he who brought us together when he saw Clara, Melanie and I playing shuffleboard. He began to tease me.