"'Troy,' he called. 'Troy.'
"Whatever fears I had fell away. I saw the happiness in his face and could deny him the truth no longer. You know what Tony's and my relationship has been, since my mother died before my first birthday and my father before I was two years old. Tony was really the only parent I can remember. He was my world. I adored him and he loved me, protected me, worried over my every illness. Things changed between us only after he married Jillian. I was jealous of her and she was jealous of me.
"But seeing him there, the realization that I might still be alive on his face, I couldn't bear myself for having held back this long. I stepped out of the closet."
"What did he do?" I asked breathlessly.
"He burst into tears and embraced me. For a long while we just held on to each other, and then, when things calmed down, we sat here and I told him the story I told you."
"And what was his reaction to all that?"
"He was angry at first, just like you were. I kept apologizing and trying to make him understand my motives. After a while he did."
"But he didn't bring you back to the house and he didn't tell me you were still alive."
"No. We made promises to each other." "Promises?"
"Naturally." he told me all about you, told me about your marriage and how Logan was becoming part of Tatterton Toys and how he had gotten you to move back into Farthy and be part of the family again. He's terrified that you'll leave him now. I can't say I blame him for that. If you do leave him, what does he have? Jillian's mad as a hatter, and I, I'm more convinced than ever that I can't remain here much longer."
"So what did you promise?" I asked.
"To keep myself away from you, so as not to ruin your marriage and your life at Farthy. And truly, Heaven, much as I longed for you, to speak to you, to see you again, I, too, thought that best. Tony promised to keep my existence a secret from everyone, not just from you, so I could go on living a new life.
"We made plans for me to establish myself somewhere else and do my work under a different name. It's painful for both of us, but we both realize why the sacrifices have to be made."
He looked up at me, his dark eyes pleading for understanding. I nodded slowly, so many realizations were crowding into my mind all at once.
"I see," I said. "So now he realized also that Jillian wasn't talking madness when she described the ghosts."
"Yes."
"And that explains why he wasn't so concerned about the changes that had come over her. He didn't panic because he knew she wasn't really getting worse. In fact, the prescription of tranquilizers was the best thing, under the circumstances. It would keep her from talking more and more about you, imprison her in her own madness."
"I don't care," Troy said, with a sudden uncharacteristic note of contempt. "Jillian never liked me. She couldn't wait to do something to hurt me deeply. What's happened to her is poetic justice. I don't want to inflict any more pain on her, but I don't want to feel sorry for her. I think Tony has come to feel the same way."
"Maybe," I said. We stared at each other. Once again I was plunged into Troy's world, with reality far beyond the door. Here in his safe, snug, and warm home, there was only beauty and kindness for me. His soft, dark eyes caressed me and flooded warmth into my face. I felt my lips being drawn to his, but I resisted. Logan's image danced before my eyes. Logan. My husband, my forever true love.
"Oh, Heaven," Troy said, as if he could read my thoughts and understand. "Why is it that for us to be happy, so many others must be made unhappy?"
"I don't know. It does seem as though fate is playing with our hearts and lives." I stood up quickly and went to the window that looked out on the maze, my heart tormented by love for two men. For a long moment we were both silent. "Logan is so excited about his new life," I said. "He's off in Winnerow overseeing the construction of the new factory."
"Tony told me all about it. It sounds like a wonderful project. I've even thought of contributing a new toy or two."
"Really?" I turned back to him. The walls of my heart quivered. I held the tears within and swallowed the cries that threatened to emerge from my throbbing throat. "Logan adores me," I said. "He's sensitive to my every mood and feeling. He was there when I needed love and comfort the most. He's always been there."
"I know," Troy said. "Heaven, you know I didn't want to do anything to bring you any more pain and agony. If I hadn't been so weak, I would have left before you discovered me and followed the plan Tony outlined. As usual, he knows best. And now I've only succeeded in putting you into an emotional turmoil. It seems I can't stop hurting the ones I love."
"Oh, no, Troy. You mustn't think that way," I said, going to him. "I'm not in pain; I won't be in pain. I promise you."
He nodded even though we both knew what I said was untrue. Why was it that life demanded us to lie to ourselves so often? I wondered. Wasn't it ironic that in order to be happy, we had to be self-deceptive, we had to live in illusion?
"I'll be leaving soon now anyway."
"When?"
He stood up and walked slowly toward the front door. "I'm not going to tell you and I'm not going to tell you where I'm going. Don't force me to do that," he said and smiled softly. "Let's just think of this as an interlude, a gift from the gods, a few moments when we cheated Death and leave it at that. Don't tell Tony what you've discovered. He doesn't have to know I've broken my promise."
"Of course I won't tell him. But Troy, do you really expect me simply to walk out that door and forget you?"
"No, I don't expect you to forget me, but it's best that you think of me as I was . . . gone Funny," he said, widening his smile, "I've passed my thirtieth birthday and I'm still here. I guess you were always right to be optimistic."
We stared at each other.
"Troy . . ."
"If I kiss you never let you go and we'll only
bring about more sadness and tragedy, for you'll be losing a life and a marriage that promises to be productive and replacing it with a forbidden, sinful love that leads to nothing but our own selfish pleasures. You know that as well as I do," he said. I nodded and lowered my head. He reached out and lifted my chin. "Let me remember you smiling," he said.
I smiled through the tears and the pain like sunshine in the rain. He opened the cottage door and I passed through. He stood there for a moment looking out at me and then he closed the door. I felt the walls around my heart collapse. My tears poured forth. I clenched my hands into fists and turned to run down the walkway and to the maze, charging into it and through its corridors like a wild and frenzied animal, like Abdulla Bar, his eyes red and wild, charging toward the sea. My cries were like long, thin scarfs blowing behind me. I didn't stop until I burst out of the maze to face Farthy.
I ground away the tears with my fists and continued forward, pausing once to look up toward Jillian's window. Once again there she was, looking out. This time she wore a look of satisfaction. In her madness she knew the painful truths, truths that had begun years ago when my mother had pressed her body against Tony's and begun a sinful love whose insidious tentacles, like the vines along the walls of Farthy, crawled in and out of the lives of all of us and would continue to do so until our dying days.
I intended to go right up to my suite to lie down, but Curtis greeted me with the news that Logan had been calling. With his usual cigar store Indian stiffness, Tony's butler waited in the hallway with Logan's message on a slip of paper. I had the impression he had been standing there ever since Logan called, waiting for my return.
"Mr. Stonewall has phoned twice, Mrs. Stonewall. The last time was only minutes ago. He gave me this number for YOU to call."
"Thank you, Curtis," I said. I went directly to the living room to use the gold antique phone and dialed the number. My hands were trembling. A man answered.
"Mr. Stonewall? Yes, ma'am. Right away," he said in an excited tone of voice. I heard a buzz of activity in the background--people talking loudly to one another, a typewr
iter clicking, another phone ringing, and the sound of bulldozers and other construction equipment just outside a nearby window.
"Heaven, where have you been?" Logan asked as soon as he got on the line.
"Just walking about the grounds." I was desperate to envision him, to feel close to him, my husband, my anchor. "What's all that noise?"
"Oh, this is my headquarters," he said, the pride in his voice so obvious I could imagine him pulling his shoulders back, holding his head high, and smiling. "I set up a small trailer on the factory site. I have an assistant. That's who answered the phone. Maybe you remember him--Frank Stratton, Steve Stratton's youngest boy. Stratton's Lumber Company," he added when I didn't respond.
"Sounds like you're very busy," I said.
"It's going well, Heaven. I wish you had decided to come along this trip, just so you could see the progress. We're well past the midway point and I've found two artisans in the Willies who could carve a Madonna out of a birch branch."
"That's wonderful," I said, trying to sound enthusiastic, but I was still in a state of shock. All I could think about was Troy. Troy still alive!
"Anyway, I was calling to tell you I can't come home today. I'm going to have to stay until the weekend. We have too many problems to solve on the site."
"Oh, Logan."
"I know. I never intended to leave you alone so long, but everyone's afraid to make a decision without my okay," he said. "Maybe you should fly down here."
I thought about it. Maybe I should leave immediately, run to the harbor of Logan's arms, where Troy was only a dimmed memory. Yet. . . yet. . I wanted to be at Farthy, more than ever now.
"No, it's just another day and a half," I said, trying to sound cheerful and self-controlled.
"You're upset. I'm sorry. It's hard for me, too, being away from you, but I keep telling myself, all this is really for Heaven."
"You're getting to be some smooth talker, Logan Stonewall," I said. He laughed. "I spoke to Tony this morning. He told me you went to a wonderful play last night."
"Yes."
"I'm sorry I wasn't there to go along, but I promise you, as soon as this is finished--"
"Don't make promises, Logan. Let's just take every day as it comes and goes," I said. There was a moment's silence.
"You sound very sad, Heaven. Is anything wrong? I mean, other than my having to stay over?"
"No," I said quickly. "I just don't want to suffer any disappointments."
"Sure. I understand," he said. "Mom and Dad send their regards."
"Thank them. Have you seen Fanny?"
"Fanny? No. She's . . I think she went somewhere with Randall Wilcox this week."
"She's still seeing him?"
"Now and again," he said quickly. "I'll call you tonight," he said. "Please, remember how much I love you."
"I will," I promised. After we ended the conversation, I just sat there for a while staring at the piano.
Haunted by love and confusion, I rose and went up to my suite. I must have fallen into a deep sleep right away, for when I awoke, it was almost dark and there was a gentle rapping at my door. It was Tony.
"The servants informed me you have been in your suite all day. You didn't even come out for lunch. Is anything wrong?" he asked, narrowing his steady gaze. I looked away, fearful that Tony, with his penetrating eyes, would see into my heart and find Troy's image there, vibrant and alive. Would I be able to keep the promise I made to Troy, the promise not to let Tony know I had seen Troy! How could I continue to act the same toward Tony, knowing that he had known Troy was alive and kept it from me? I resented him for not telling me the truth, yet I realized he was only trying to protect me.
"Just a summer head cold," I said. "I took a few aspirin and fell asleep."
"You must have gotten a chill last night after we left the theater. Feeling better?"
"A little."
"Is it warm enough in here?" He looked around the sitting room.
"Oh, yes."
"Well," he said. He appeared uncomfortable, standing in the doorway, but I hadn't invited him in. All I could think of was closing the door and returning to my bed. "You spoke to Logan, I assume,"
"Yes. Sounds as if everything's going well."
Tony shrugged. "There are a few glitches. I'll probably fly down there tomorrow just for the day. Want to go along?"
"No, I don't think so. If it's nice, I'd rather sunbathe here for a while."
"Okay. See you at dinner?"
"If you don't mind," I said, "please have something sent up. I'd rather take dinner in the suite tonight. I'm still not feeling a hundred percent."
He raised an eyebrow and studied me even more intently. Surely now he will realize what I have discovered, I thought. I didn't have his inscrutable face. I was more like Jillian. My emotions were usually undressed, parading about my eyes and lips, ready to announce each and every feeling within my heart.
"Perhaps I should send for Doctor Mallen," he suggested.
"No, no."
"But--"
"I promise. If I don't feel better in the morning, I'll have you do so," I said quickly.
"All right. I'll instruct Curtis to bring your dinner up here. It'll be lonely for me, though," he said, smiling. "You know what it's like eating in that big room with Curtis standing right behind me waiting for me to drop a spoon."
I laughed. How well I knew that!
"That's better," he said. "I'll check up on you later," he promised and left.
Oh, Tony, I thought after he closed the door, I don't know whether to pity you or to hate you. I felt like someone riding a merry-go-round, all the horses constantly moving up and down and around, nothing still enough to afford a point of reference, to show where, in fact, solid ground could be found. All my feelings, like those fanciful ponies, were being pulled from both directions, up and down and spun around until I felt dizzy inside.
I wanted to-be alone to try and sort them out, and yet I was afraid to be alone. Lying there in the silence of my bedroom, I fought back thoughts of Troy, thoughts that were now more forbidden than ever. It was on this bed, wrapped in Logan's arms, feeling his kisses on my lips and cheeks, that I had uttered promises of love and devotion to him as he had uttered them to me. It seemed a terrible betrayal to rest my head against the pillow and envision Troy's eyes, Troy's lips, Troy's kisses, while the scent of Logan's cologne lingered on the sheets.
Trying to fight back these invading images of Troy, I tried to picture Logan when he first came to Winnerow, for first love, young love, is something a woman can never forget. It carries special charms that linger forever and forever. Even when I became an old lady, older than Jillian, older than Granny, I knew that I, like every woman, would stop in my rocking chair, senile or not, and recall the special excitement I felt when my heart first fluttered because of a boy's look, a boy's touch. Such memories can warm the loneliest heart and turn the saddest eyes into gleeful ones. They were like the perennial fruits--apples, peaches, plums--that blossomed on the trees over and over again every year. No matter how old the trees were, there was always some fruit, something fresh and wonderful. Good and happy memories, especially memories that made you more aware of life's thrilling moments, were the fruits of life's labor.
And so it was with Logan and me when we were both young and fresh in the Willies. I could draw the images from my precious trunk of recollections and once again picture Logan that first time I set eyes on him in school. He stood out like a prep school boy in his sharply creased gray flannel slacks and his bright green sweater worn over a white shirt and a gray-and-green striped tie. No one ever came to our school dressed up as Logan Stonewall did.
I could still hear my brother Tom first introduce us. "And this is my sister, Heaven Leigh." There was so much pride in Tom's voice.
"What a pretty name," Logan said. "It suits you very well. I don't think I've ever seen more heavenly blue eyes."
After he said that our eyes seemed to cling and strike a gong t
hat would resound throughout our lives.
Logan Stonewall, my beautiful first and forever boyfriend, good-looking in the kind of way I'd seen in books and magazines, like someone with years and years of cultured background that had given him what none of us in the hills had--quality.
As if they were a protective cape, I wrapped the memories of these early days around myself to keep out the feelings and temptations knocking at my door and for a while, a long while, that worked well. Curtis brought me my dinner and I ate most of it. Afterward, Tony came, as he had promised, to see how I was doing. Satisfied that I was merely sleeping off a minor head cold, he left, telling me he would be leaving early in the morning to catch a plane for Winnerow.
"I won't see you before I leave, but I'll call during the day," he said, "to see if you're indeed all right."
He lingered before saying good night, as if he wanted to say more or ask more, but there was a fog of silence between us best not penetrated. I think he sensed that.
"Good night," he said.
I closed the door after him and once again retreated into my own thoughts, reaching back through time to find diversion in the happier memories.
Only this time my mind betrayed me. Instead of remembering the wonderful early days with Logan, I recalled Troy coming to my graduation from the Winterhaven School. I had been terribly disappointed to learn that Jillian and Tony would be in London that day. I would have no one to see me reach the accomplishment that had once seemed so distant and impossible when I lived in the Willies.
In single file the graduates paraded in to take their seats. I was eighth from the front girl and at first I saw only a blur of unfamiliar faces. Then I saw Troy, seated out there, looking up at me with such an expression of pride and delight. I had felt a rush of happiness such as I'd seldom known before because Troy had come and had asked several of Tatterton Toy Corporation officers and their families to show up as my family.
Casteel 03 Fallen Hearts Page 13