I beg you now to consider our plight and look upon us with forgiving eyes. I know much has to be done to win back your love, but I am willing to do anything, anything, to win that love back. Please think about permitting us to return to Foxworth Hall so that my children can grow up knowing the good things and the happy things. Please rescue us.
I promise we will be perfect; we will obey your every command. My children are well-mannered and intelligent and will understand anything that is required of them. We ask only for the chance to try.
Please have mercy on us and remind yourselves that my children are Foxworths, even though we thought it best to take on the name Dollanganger, a Foxworth ancestor.
I wait eagerly for your reply. I am a woman broken and lost and terribly afraid.
Love,
Corinne
There actually were teardrops at the bottom of the sheet. I didn’t know if they were mine or hers. Christopher dead! No matter how much I felt they had been wrong, that their love was sinful, I never would have wished this upon them. God, indeed, was vengeful. I tried to stand, but the room seemed to be whirling around me, shadows and ghosts weaving in and out, their terrible maws laughing, mocking me. What had I done? What had I done? Had God misunderstood my prayers? I couldn’t bear to think that. There had to be some other explanation. My mind frantically searched until it found John Amos. He would know, he would know what to do.
“God has delivered a message,” he intoned, crumpling the delicate pink letter in his bony hand.
“A message, John Amos? What kind of a god would do this to Christopher?”
“A god who abhors sin. And it was you, Olivia, who confessed how vile the sin actually was. God is restoring order to His universe. And He has now presented you with an opportunity to help Him. Those children are the devil’s spawn, born of an unholy union abominable in the eyes of God.”
“What do you mean, John Amos? What does God expect of me now?”
He gazed heavenward, as if silently communicating with the Lord. His arms stretched out. He seemed to embrace an invisible power. Then, clenching his hands into fists, he grasped that power and struck his chest. “Let Corinne and her children come,” he declared. “But hide those children away from the world forever. End the lineage of sin now. Do not let them remain in the world to infect others.”
I left John Amos and spent the rest of the day alone in my room, praying to God for guidance. For though I understood John Amos’s interpretation, I could not accept it. God forgive me, I still loved Corinne; but what had she done to me? She had forced me to become the captor of her children. She had forced me to be a vengeful instrument of the Lord. Forced me to be that cold gray woman I so longed not to be. I wanted to be a grandmother, I wanted children to love and dote on, who would look up to me with love in their eyes. And what had she presented me with? The devil’s spawn. Now every time their faces gazed into mine, I would see the devil; every time their hands touched me, I would be touched by the devil; every time their voices called me, I would be called by the devil. I envisioned their sweet faces, their silky blond hair, their bright blue eyes. Oh, I would have to steel myself not to love them. For the devil always favored those he sent to do his work with charms and beguilements. I would have to turn myself into a gray stone fortress lest those charms pierce my heart and claim me for the devil’s work.
That night, the last drops of love drained from my heart, and I became only the instrument of the Lord. I dreamt that night of a dollhouse, a dollhouse filled with such sin that it emanated its own hellfires. The voice of God spoke to me. Olivia, it boomed, I have put you on earth to end that fire. I poured water over that fire, but still it burned. I tried to blow out that fire with my own breath, but it still burned. Then I built a glass enclosure around it, and slowly, slowly that fire was stifled until it was burning only embers.
The next morning I resolved to carry out John Amos’s plan. I knew then and there I must confront Malcolm. He was sitting in his wheelchair gazing out the parlor window at the bright summer flowers that mocked the perpetual winter that lived in Foxworth Hall.
“Corinne is coming home,” I announced.
“Corinne?” he whispered. “Corinne?”
“Yes, Malcolm, yesterday I received a letter from her. Christopher was killed in a car accident, and Corinne begged us to take her back. And we shall.” I had struggled many hours with the decision about what to tell Malcolm, and had decided that he must never know of the existence of Corinne’s children. Malcolm loved Corinne so, as he had loved his mother before her, as he had loved Alicia, I knew that once he knew there were children, especially girls, his heart would be captured once again. No, I must take matters into my own hands this time; John Amos was the only one whom I could trust. It would be easy to hide the children from Malcolm. I would hide them in the north wing, just as he had hidden Alicia, their true grandmother. He was so frail, and I knew he would be so taken with Corinne’s return, he’d never suspect anything.
“I am going to go now and write Corinne a letter, welcoming her back to Foxworth Hall.”
Malcolm still had not turned his face from the window. I walked over and rested a hand on his thin, stooped shoulder. I felt him trembling, and peered around to see the tears coursing down his cheeks.
Dear Corinne,
You are welcome to return to Foxworth Hall. However, I have not shown your father your letter. If he knew you had children with Christopher, nothing, nothing would persuade him to take you back. With the help of John Amos, he has found in the Lord a refuge from his pain, and he could never accept children born of an unholy, incestuous union.
You don’t know that your father suffered a severe stroke and heart attack on the day you left. Your actions reduced this strong and vibrant man to a frail shell of his former self.
However, I have considered your plight, and prayed for guidance. This is my decision: You may bring your children to Foxworth Hall, but your father must never know of their existence. The doctors tell me Malcolm does not have much longer to live. Until the Lord calls him to His bosom, your children will stay up in the north wing, shut away from his view and his knowledge. I will see to it that they are clothed and fed.
I will expect you to redeem yourself and try to make compensation for the pain you have caused me and your father.
You must understand that it is up to you to prepare your children, and to make certain they remain hidden and under control. If they are disobedient, or in any way reveal themselves, you will have to leave Foxworth Hall as penniless as you arrived.
Inform me immediately of your decision.
Trusting in God,
Your Mother
20
Eyes That See
ON A NIGHT MUCH LIKE THE NIGHT WHEN I FIRST ARRIVED at Foxworth Hall years and years ago, they came. I had instructed Corinne to take the late train, so her arrival would be cloaked under darkness. It would be three o’clock in the morning when the train pulled into the empty depot, which stood alone by the railroad tracks, a solitary platform in the black night. I was sure that her sleepy brood of four children would think that they had been left far from civilization, surrounded only by fields and meadows and the dark purple mountains hovering against the horizon like lurking giants of the night.
I would not send a car for them. Even though it was a long walk from the depot, I could not take the chance of having anyone, servant or outsider, know of the existence of Corinne’s children. They would stumble along the dark, deserted road. Every tree, every shadow, every sound, would frighten them. Their hearts would beat in dread.
Suddenly Foxworth Hall would loom before them, like a witch’s castle in the fairy tales their mother surely would have read them. Its dark windows would look like dead eyes and its enormous roof like an ink stain against the sky. There would be nothing inviting in its appearance. All of them would gaze up at it, silent with their own fears, their little hearts pounding.
I wanted to be alone when Corinne an
d her children arrived. I wanted them to see no one but me. This was my moment, and I insisted, despite my obedience to John Amos’s plans and despite his protests, that he retire to his room for the evening.
I had put Malcolm to bed around ten o’clock.
“Please, Olivia,” he’d begged. “I know this is the night Corinne is coming, and I’d like to be up to welcome her.”
Love shone in his eyes, and I could see that in all these years his doting on Corinne had not died. Oh, yes, I was right not to have told him of the existence of the children. He would have fallen under their spell, as he always fell under the spell of beauty.
“Malcolm, Corinne will certainly be exhausted when she arrives. And if you stay up so late, so will you. This way, you will be well rested and be able to greet her in the morning with full enthusiasm.”
Now the only thing left for me to do was wait. I had already prepared the room in the north wing for their arrival. I had cleaned and dusted and moved the two double beds myself, for I couldn’t allow a servant to suspect even a breath of my plan. As I’d moved the beds around, I came upon Alicia’s hairbrush, still filled with strands of hair. Over the years the fine golden strands had matted into a dusty, musty web. I set the brush on the bureau without removing a single thread. Now Alicia’s grandchildren would live here, just as she had. And I knew, just knew, that her granddaughters would use that brush. Oh, yes, they’d be the sort who made sure to brush their hair one hundred, or even five hundred strokes a day.
I awaited their arrival for hours, pacing the long, dark corridors of Foxworth Hall. From time to time I would go to the window next to the servants’ entrance and gaze out into the night. A light snow had begun to fall. As I was pacing back and forth, back and forth, suddenly I heard a branch snap, and I ran again to the window. There they were, like thieves in the night, four bundled children and their cloaked mother. I opened the door and motioned them inside. Without a word I herded them all up the steep and narrow back staircase. Corinne knew she was forbidden to speak. She knew that one whisper, one clumsy move, would reverberate through the long, empty halls of her childhood home and alert the servants.
I led them directly to the far room in the north wing. I yanked open the door and nudged them into the room, like a gentle jailer might usher a condemned man into his last cell. When they were all inside, I quietly shut the door.
Then I turned on the lamp. Before me were four beautiful children. The boy, almost a man, was an exact replica of Christopher, the same blond hair, the same blue eyes, the same sweet, intelligent expression on his face. Oh, how I longed to embrace him. But I held back, reminding myself of all I knew, of all that had transpired. The girl was the spit and image of her mother at that age, and a flood of memories threatened to engulf me and drown my hard resolve. I quickly looked away from her and examined the twins. Two cherubs stared up at me with big, frightened blue eyes. As I stared down at them, they moved closer to each other, as if trying to merge into one being.
“Just as you said, Corinne, your children are beautiful. But,” I added, “are you sure they are intelligent? Do they have some invisible afflictions not apparent to the eyes?”
“None,” Corinne cried. “My children are perfect, as you can plainly see, physically and mentally!”
She glared at me and began to undress the girl twin, who was nodding at her feet. Cooperatively, the older girl began to undress the boy twin as Christopher’s lookalike lifted one of the big suitcases onto the bed. He opened it and took out two pairs of small yellow pajamas with feet.
Corinne lifted the twins into one of the beds and pressed kisses on their flushed cheeks, her hand trembling as she brushed back the curls that graced their foreheads, and pulled the covers up to their chins. “Good night, my darlings,” she whispered.
I could not believe that their mother was going to allow two teenagers of the opposite sex, to share the other bed. Oh, how quickly all John Amos had predicted was being revealed! I scowled at Corinne. “Your two older children cannot sleep in one bed.”
She looked surprised. “They’re only children,” she flared at me. “Mother, you haven’t changed one bit, have you? You still have a nasty, suspicious mind! Christopher and Cathy are innocent.”
“Innocent?” I snapped back. “That is exactly what your father and I always presumed about you and your half uncle!”
Corinne blanched. “If you think like that, then give them separate rooms and separate beds! Lord knows this house has enough of them!”
“That is impossible,” I said as icily as I could. “This is the only bedroom with its own adjoining bath, and where my husband won’t hear them walking overhead, or flushing the toilet. If they are separated, and scattered about all over upstairs, he will hear their voices, or their noise, or the servants will. Now, I have given this arrangement a great deal of thought. This is the only safe room. Put the two girls in one bed, and the two boys in the other,” I commanded.
Corinne refused to look at me, but slumped over to the bed and carried the boy twin to the empty bed. The two older children glared at me as I continued to lay down the rules they were to abide by in this room.
After I finished, Corinne drew the two other children to her. Her hands stroked their hair and backs. “It’s all right,” I heard her whisper. “Trust me.” Then she turned to me for an instant and her face twisted with the most ferocious look I had ever seen on her. “Mother, have some pity and compassion for my children. They are your flesh and blood too. Keep that in your mind.” As she continued to list their virtues and accomplishments, I closed my ears. For they were not of my flesh and blood, nor was she. And much as I had loved her, for the sake of my eternal soul I could no longer afford to do so. I was tempted by her pleas, by her children’s sweetness, but I hardened my heart.
When Corinne saw that her words were not succeeding in softening my resolve, she turned back to her children and bid them good night.
I waited at the door as Corinne slowly parted from her children. Finally I pulled her arm, and just before I closed the door behind us, I looked back at the children. The twins were sound asleep. The two older ones stood side by side, the boy holding the girl’s hand, just as Christopher had held Corinne’s. I saw him look into her eyes, and saw him smile, a smile that sent a cold chill up my spine. For it was a smile I had seen before, it was the smile of Christopher for Corinne, the smile I had been too blind to see. But now my eyes were opened.
I locked the door behind me.
Learn the dark secrets of the Logan Family:
MELODY • HEART SONG • UNFINISHED SYMPHONY
MUSIC IN THE NIGHT • OLIVIA
Experience the runaway chills of the Orphans miniseries:
BUTTERFLY • CRYSTAL
BROOKE • RAVEN • RUNAWAYS
Feel the enticing embrace of the Wildflowers miniseries:
MISTY • STAR • JADE • CAT • INTO THE GARDEN
Thrill to the mysteries of the Hudson series:
RAIN • LIGHTNING STRIKES • EYE OF THE STORM
THE END OF THE RAINBOW
Step into the spotlight with the Shooting Stars:
CINNAMON • ICE • ROSE • HONEY • FALLING STARS
Live the life of the rich and famous in the De Beers series:
WILLOW • WICKED FOREST • TWISTED ROOTS
INTO THE WOODS
Unlock the secrets inside a diary from Willow’s family in HIDDEN LEAVES, which includes the prequel
DARK SEED
Take a walk on the wild side in BROKEN WINGS, and live on the edge with MIDNIGHT FLIGHT
Uncover the double-edged secrets of the Gemini series, beginning with Celeste… and look for Black Cat, coming soon from Pocket Star Books!
th friends
Garden of Shadows (Dollanganger) Page 31