Web of Dreams

by V. C. Andrews

  all this? It was almost as if the house had a life of its

  own, each of its rooms coming to life in its own way

  when its time came. Was everything set on some

  automatic switch, I wondered. At Christmas, the tree

  spontaneously lit itself and the fireplace self-started.

  As if the house were really toying with me, Christmas

  music suddenly began playing through the speakers

  built into the walls.

  I laughed. I felt so silly all of a sudden. Was

  there a mechanical Santa Claus set to come down that

  chimney every Christmas Eve too? Curtis must have

  been nearby and heard my laughter because he

  suddenly appeared in the doorway with a look of

  confusion on his face when he saw I was alone. "Is there anything I can get you, Miss Leigh?" Yes, I wanted to say. Get me my daddy and my

  mommy. Get me the happiness we once knew. Put us in this warm room together, laughing and smiling, kissing and embracing each other with love and

  tenderness. Make this a real Christmas for me. "No, Curtis. Not right now. Thank you." "Very good, Miss. Just ring if there is anything

  you want" "Thank you."

  He nodded softly and was gone. I looked at the

  Christmas tree and the presents and then gazed up at

  Momma's murals. My heart felt heavy and leaden and

  my throat ached from holding in my sobs. I left the

  room quickly and went up to my suite. I was so very

  tired. I got into my nightgown and then crawled under

  my covers in my new bed. After I put out the lamp at

  the side of my bed, I looked through the sheer curtains

  on one of my windows and saw the moon peeping

  through a cloud. It drew me to the window.

  I gazed out at the vast expanse that was

  Farthinggale Manor. From here I could look down at

  the long winding driveway. Tonight, because of the

  melted snow, the driveway gleamed like a silver metal

  ribbon. It was easier to be lonely in a place that was as

  big and as rich as Farthy, I thought. My friends back

  in Boston would never think so, but I couldn't

  remember ever feeling as small and alone as I did

  right this moment.

  I looked up and saw the North Star, and I

  recalled Daddy explaining how sailors depended on it

  whenever they were lost. Could I depend on it? It

  twinkled back down at me. Maybe somewhere Daddy

  was looking up at it too. Maybe he threw me a kiss

  and that kiss bounced off the North Star and came

  back to me here at Farthy.

  "Good night, Daddy," I whispered.

  "Good night, Princess," I pretended I heard him

  say.

  And I crawled back into bed, and for the first

  time in my life, I wasn't so anxious for Christmas

  morning that I couldn't wait to fall asleep.

  I felt myself being jolted awake and opened my

  eyes to see Troy tugging on my hand.

  "Wake up, Leigh. Wake up!"

  "What?" I scrubbed my eyes with my fists and

  gazed around. It would be a while before I was used

  to waking up in such a big bedroom.

  "It's Christmas. Come on. We've got to go

  down and open our presents. Come on. Hurry." "Oh Troy," I groaned. "What time is it?" I

  looked at my clock. It was just seven A.M.

  "Hurry up," he pleaded.

  "All right. Okay, Troy. Give me a few minutes. Girls take longer to get up than boys," I said, hoping

  for a small reprieve.

  "Why?" He swung his dark brown eyes

  skeptically at me.

  "Because they have to fix their hair and their

  faces and look presentable. Actually, young men do

  the same thing."

  He thought for a moment and looked down at

  himself still dressed in his pajamas, bathrobe and

  slippers.

  "Okay.I'll brush my hair and meet you here in

  a few minutes!" he exclaimed and scurried off. I

  laughed and got out of bed. I washed my face free of

  sleep, and brushed my hair a little, knowing that

  Momma would never leave her room looking like I

  did. But Momma wasn't always right, I thought. More

  than ever, I was thinking that now. I put on my robe

  and found Troy waiting impatiently for me in my

  sitting room. He seized my hand the moment I

  appeared and led me downstairs. Then he attacked the

  presents. Mrs. Hastings appeared behind me,

  laughing.

  "Merry Christmas," she said.

  "Merry Christmas."

  "I'll see about breakfast, if you'd like," she offered. "Thank you, Mrs. Hastings. Let's hope we can pry him away from the gifts long enough to eat," I added. I knelt down beside Troy and helped him

  unwrap his presents first.

  His biggest present was his own television set.

  There was one in the den, but now he would have one

  for his own room.

  "I've got to get it up to my room," he said

  excitedly.

  "Wait. There's time for that, Troy. Look at the

  other gifts first."

  "Okay. And you look at yours, too. I gave you

  something."

  "Did you?" Momma and I had gone shopping

  for Christmas presents and spent nearly all our time

  trying to find something "right" for Tony, since he

  had so much. She decided to get him a solid gold tie

  clip with diamonds on the ends. Then she had "Love,

  Jillian" inscribed on the back. I'd had trouble thinking

  of anything good enough for Daddy. Mittens and silk

  ties, expensive after-shave lotions, suede gloves, a

  new pipe holder . . . nothing had the right meaning for

  a Daddy that wouldn't open the gift with me there

  beside him.

  Then I saw something at one of the department stores that was not as expensive as other gifts I could get him, but filled my heart with pleasure and warmth when I thought of him unwrapping it and gazing at it. It was a special photograph to be taken next to a Christmas tree. On the bottom, the photographer embossed "Merry Christmas." And you could have your name embossed and the date, too. I bought a

  handsome light pine frame for it as well.

  When I posed for the picture, I smiled as

  warmly and as lovingly as I could, for I knew it would

  be the smile that Daddy would see forever and ever,

  especially when he was lonely and wanted to think of

  me. I had it wrapped and left it on Daddy's desk at our

  Boston home so he would find it as soon as he

  returned from his trip.

  I decided to buy Troy an erector set, since he

  was so good with his hands. It was a toy, but he could

  do something creative with it too. It even had a little

  electric motor, so if he made a tiny Ferris wheel, it

  would actually turn. He was very excited about it

  when he opened the package and saw it. To my

  surprise, he knew exactly what it was. He got up

  quickly and gave me a big hug and kiss.

  "Thank you, Leigh. Now look at my present to

  you," he said. "I made it myself and wrapped it

  myself."

  I opened the small package and couldn't believe

  my eyes. He had made it? It was a little ceramic horse

  with a girl rider. The girl could be taken off

  "That's Sniffles," Troy explained. "My horse.

  An
d that's you riding it."

  "You made this?"

  "Not the little girl," he confessed. "Tony had

  that made at his factory, but I made Sniffles. I took a

  picture of her and traced it and shaped it and baked it.

  Then I painted it myself," he added proudly. "It's beautiful, Troy. It's one of the best

  Christmas presents I have ever received. Thank you."

  I kissed him on the cheek. His eyes twinkled and then

  he went back to unwrapping his presents. What a

  wonderfully talented little boy he was, I thought. How

  could Momma not be charmed by him?

  "You have other presents," Troy said pointing.

  There were at least-a-dozen different brightly

  wrapped boxes with my name on them, some from

  Momma, some from Tony, but a small box caught my

  eye first, because I saw the emblem of Daddy's ocean

  liner company on the card's envelope.

  Carefully, lifted the box and ran my fingers

  lovingly over the top. Troy was impressed with the reverent way I treated it. He put down his next gift

  and drew closer to me.

  "What is it?" he asked in a whisper.

  "A Christmas present from my daddy.

  Somehow, he got one here."

  "Why don't you open it?" Troy's eyes swung

  from the small box to me and back to the box. "I will." Gingerly, taking great care not to tear

  the paper, I unwrapped the present to find a small,

  dark blue velvet box. I opened it and took out a heavy,

  gold locket in the shape of a heart with a sparkling

  gold chain. I pressed the release button and the locket

  opened to a tiny picture of Daddy and me standing on

  The Jillian. We both looked tanned and happy. I

  remembered why I looked so happy. We were on the

  way home and I thought I would find Momma waiting

  for me at the dock.

  "Can I see?" Troy asked. I held the locket out

  and he plucked it carefully from my palm to gaze at

  the picture. I saw his eyes widen and then grow small.

  "I have a big picture of my daddy," he said. "But he's

  not smiling. I told Tony and he said Daddy's smiling

  in Heaven and he will always smile as long as I am

  good."

  "Then I'm sure he will always smile," I told him. I had him help me put on the locket and then we

  returned to opening our gifts.

  I spent Christmas Day helping Troy set up his

  toys and put away his gifts of clothing. Late in the

  afternoon, we watched some shows on his new

  television set. We had a delicious turkey for

  Christmas Day dinner, and Rye Whiskey prepared

  vegetables with sauces I had never before tasted. Troy kept me so busy that I was grateful for the

  reprieve when it came time for him to go to sleep. I

  went to sleep early myself that night. I had promised

  him that we would ride his pony in the morning,

  which we did. In fact, there was so much to do at

  Farthy--swimming in the indoor pool, cross-country

  skiing, hiking to the ocean and back, horseback riding

  and sleigh riding--that the first week passed quickly. Tony had an enormous library, and my favorite

  book from his well-stocked shelves was Lolita, the

  story of an older man's love affair with a twelve-yearold girl, a girl my age! I couldn't believe the things

  she did and said. There were parts I reread and reread,

  parts that made me blush and made my heartbeat

  quicken. I kept the novel buried under the others so

  the servants wouldn't know I had been reading it, just

  in case any of them knew what it was about. I promised Troy we would spend New Year's

  Eve in his room watching television. He was

  determined he would stay up until twelve o'clock and

  watch the people celebrating in Times Square, in New

  York City. He held out until almost eleven, but by

  then, his eyes had shut and his little chest rose and fell

  in quiet, rhythmic breathing.

  A little after eleven-thirty, Daddy called from

  Florida. He sounded small and faraway. The phone

  line crackled.

  "I loved your Christmas present, Daddy. Yours

  is waiting for you on your desk at home."

  "I'll be there next week, so I'll call you after I

  open it," he said. "How are you?"

  "I'm okay, Daddy, but I miss you," I said, my

  voice nearly breaking.

  "And I miss you, too. In a few weeks, come by

  and we'll spend a day together in Boston."

  "I'll be in school by then, Daddy. You'll have to

  come to Winterhaven. But it's not far from here." I

  told him about the different things I had been doing. "Sounds like quite a place," he said sadly. "I'd rather be home with you, Daddy." "I know, sweetheart. We will be together soon.

  I promise. Well now, let me wish you a Happy New Year. I know this past year has not been a happy one,

  but hopefully, the next one will."

  "Happy New Year, Daddy. I love you." "And I love you, Princess. Good night." "Good night, Daddy."

  I pressed the receiver against my chest after he

  had hung up, pressed it so hard it hurt. I didn't cradle

  it until I heard the television announcer begin to count

  down: "Ten, nine, eight . . ." Troy moaned in his sleep

  and then turned over on his side. "Seven, six, five . ." I saw that it had begun to snow again. The

  snowflakes were large and pretty. They fell so softly,

  some clinging to the window for a moment before

  turning into tears and streaming down the pane. "Four, three, two . ."

  I held my new locket up against my lips and

  kissed it, telling myself I was kissing Daddy. One . .

  HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!"

  The camera caught so many different faces--

  people cheering, people laughing, people screaming,

  people crying. I wished I were there with them, lost in

  a crowd of strangers.

  Nearly half of the pages of my diary are written

  upon now. It's a good place to wish myself a "Happy

  New Year." Of course, for me it's more than a new

  year; it's a new life.

  Happy New Year, Leigh VanVoreen.

  ten THE HONEYMOON'S OVER

  . Troy awoke with a bad cold on New Year's Day, the day Momma and Tony were returning from their honeymoon. By eight o'clock in the morning, he was running a high fever and Mrs. Hastings had to send for the doctor. I knew he was very sick because he made no effort to get out of his bed to play. While the doctor examined him, I waited outside in the hallway. Afterward, I heard Mrs. Hastings and the doctor conferring in the outer chamber of Troy's suite. The doctor emerged from Troy's suite first, his eyes dark and the lines of his face cut deeply with worry and concern. Mrs. Hastings followed, her eyes wet with tears. She held her handkerchief against her mouth and shook her head at me.

  "What is it? What's wrong with him?" I asked frantically.

  "The doctor thinks he's developing pneumonia. Oh dear me, dear me. He's going to call for an ambulance. He wants him in the hospital for X rays and treatment right away. Mr. Tatterton warned me that Troy has so little resistance to germs, but he was doing so well and he was so happy and energetic, I didn't think I let him overdo it," she cried.

  "Now Mrs. Hastings, this is not your fault. Whenever he showed the slightest signs of getting cold outside, we always brought him in, and except for last night, which is the most special night of the year, he alway
s went to sleep early. And he's been eating well, too," I added. "He didn't get sick after he and I were lost in the maze. You did wonders to prevent that from happening then, remember?"

  "Yes, yes. Still, I feel so bad. I'll be right back. I have to see to some of the arrangements. Mr. and Mrs. Tatterton won't be home until the middle of the afternoon, but the doctor says we can't wait for them." She shook her head with worry.

  "Can I go in to see him?"

  "Yes, but don't get too close to him. Oh dear, dear," she mumbled and hurried to the stairway.

  Little Troy looked so much smaller in his large bed with the covers brought up to his chin. I had dolls with heads bigger than his head appeared to be against the large, fluffy white pillow. His small ears, his tiny nose, his closed eyes, which looked no bigger than marbles, and his petite mouth, slightly open because of his difficulty in breathing, did make him seem like a fragile toy.

  His cheeks were scarlet from his fever and his lips looked a little puffy. His hands were cupped into tiny fists, but the rest of his body was buried under the enormous down comforter. I stood by the side of his bed watching him. I didn't want to wake him. Suddenly he started to mumble in his fevered sleep.

  "Daddy wake up, wake up," he said. Then with his eyes still closed, he grimaced. "Tony . . . Tony." His face twisted in agony. I went to him and took his tiny, warm hand into mine.

  "It's all right, Troy. It's all right. I'm here."

  "Tony . . . I want Tony. . . ."

  "It's Leigh, Troy. Do you want me to get you a drink of water?"

  "Tony," he muttered and shook his head. Then he squeezed his eyes closed even tighter as if he were trying to deny a picture in his mind. I touched his flushed cheek and became shocked and frightened by how hot his skin really was. It made my heart pound. I looked expectantly at the doorway. Where was the doctor? How could they leave him alone like this, even for a moment?

  He swung his head from side to side, moaning softly.

  "Troy," I cried, tears coming into my eyes. "Oh, my God," I whispered. I flew out of the room to find Mrs. Hastings. She and the doctor were downstairs talking softly with Curtis and Miles.

  "Doctor, he's burning up in his bed! And he's moaning like he's in pain!" I exclaimed. The doctor looked at me and then at Mrs. Hastings, wondering who I was. She whispered something quickly in his ear.

  "Oh." He nodded and turned to me. "Yes, we know, my dear. We have just decided that we will not wait for an ambulance. We are going to take Troy to the hospital in the limousine immediately. Mrs. Hastings was just going up to prepare him for the trip."

  "Can I help?"

  "No, I think it's best you just stay a good distance away. Don't want to, have two patients to rush off," he said smiling. How could he joke at a time like this? I thought. Mrs. Hastings started up the stairs. I was so fidgety and nervous, I could do nothing but wait and watch. A little while later, Miles emerged from Troy's suite with Troy bundled up in blankets, his pinkish face barely visible, and carried him toward the stairs. Mrs. Hastings followed close behind, saying, "Oh dear me, dear me."