Casteel 03 Fallen Hearts

by V. C. Andrews

  "Maybe you're right," I said, my voice trembling now. "But I'm afraid of wrenching him away from all that is familiar so quickly. But maybe we can make it into a fun, exciting adventure for him." I took a deep breath to get hold of myself. Things had to be done; there just wasn't time to be mournful, and I had little Drake to think about now. I had to be strong for him. "You see if you can find any suitcases, and I'll start going through his things, taking only what's necessary. I want to buy him an entirely new wardrobe."

  Logan went looking and I followed Drake back to the bedrooms. Once again he was standing in his parents' doorway, staring at the empty bed. When I lifted him into my arms, there wasn't the slightest resistance. He laid his head against my shoulder, his thumb in his mouth, and stared with glassy eyes.

  "What we're going to do, Drake," I said, "is go to your room and pick out whatever you want to take with you. Then Logan and I will pack it into a suitcase, and we'll all go to a nice hotel in Atlanta. Were you ever in a hotel?"

  He shook his head softly.

  "Oh, you're going to like it. And we'll go to a nice restaurant. Tomorrow, we'll be going on an airplane," I said, and that perked him up. He lifted his head from my shoulder and looked at me with new interest. "You were never on an airplane?" He shook his head more vigorously this time. "Well," I said, carrying him to his room, "we're going to take an airplane ride and then get into a big car and go to the biggest house you ever saw."

  "Will Mommy be there?"

  "No, honey."

  "Will Daddy?" His hopeful voice nearly broke my heart.

  "No, Drake. Don't you remember what I told you about God calling them to Heaven?" He nodded. "That's where they are, but they'll be looking down at you and smiling because you'll be so well taken care of, okay?"

  I put him down and began searching through the drawers in his dresser. Logan found some suitcases, but I picked out only enough clothing to fill one. I told Drake to choose his favorite toy to take. A few minutes later he stood in front of me holding a familiar toy fire engine. It was a Tatterton Toy, a replica of one of the first fire engines ever made, and it was constructed out of a heavy metal. The pump was actually functional. It had real little rubber tires and a steering wheel that actually turned the front wheels. It was the kind of quality toy just not sold in regular stores anymore. The little firemen, their faces rendered in actual detail, some wearing intense expressions, some smiling, were all intact. The toy had been well cared for these past years. It was the toy I had sent to him after I had first visited.

  "Oh, that's a beautiful toy, Drake. Do you know where you got that toy?" He shook his head. "I sent it to you years ago. I'm glad you took good care of it and that's the toy you want to take with you. But do you know what?" I said, pulling him to me and brushing his hair off his forehead. "You're going to have a lot of toys like this, good toys, real toys." His eyes widened with interest. "You know why?" He shook his head. "Because Logan and I own a toy factory," I said. He looked amazed as I smiled to reassure him. "That's right, a toy factory. Okay," I said. "You carry that out to Logan and tell him you want to take it along." I looked around the room and then went back to Luke and Stacie's bedroom.

  I decided I wanted the picture of them together in the front of the house. I wanted it for Drake, but I wanted it for myself almost as much.

  "I'm making a cup of tea. Want any?" Logan called from the kitchen.

  "No, thanks. See if Drake will eat anything, though, okay?"

  "Sure. Hey, Drake," I heard Logan say. "Let's see what's for lunch, huh"

  While they were out in the kitchen, I began to search through the dresser drawers, primarily to see if there was anything of value I should take for Drake. I found all of Stacie's jewelry, which was mostly costume jewelry, a watch that looked valuable, and some more pictures of her and Luke. In his dresser under his socks in the top drawer, I found one of Grandpa's whittled rabbits. It brought tears to my eyes as I stood there remembering him sitting in his rocker, working and talking to his imaginary Annie

  Then I found something that amazed me--a Boston Globe newspaper clipping announcing my marriage to Logan. I saw where Luke had underlined the part about my being a schoolteacher in Winnerow. I sat on the bed, holding the clipping in my lap. So he had been interested in me and proud of me all the while, I thought. But why couldn't he have come to my wedding, and why didn't he ever contact me or write to me since? Now he was gone, Stacie was gone, Mrs. Cotton was gaffe; and anyway, she wasn't the kind of person who could want to answer any questions, and the lawyer was too professional and indifferent to know anything more than legal matters.

  But Tony would know, I thought. I felt sure of that now. For some reason he knew and was involved with so many things concerning Luke and his life. I couldn't wait to get back to find out why he had kept it all a secret. Did he think he was protecting me somehow? I was no longer a child; he had no right to hide anything from me.

  I put the clipping with the pictures and the rabbit and some other things I wanted to take and started to look through the closets when I heard the front door bell. I paused to listen as Logan went to see who it was. A moment later I heard a familiar voice. Fanny's! But there was a second voice, also very familiar to me. She had come with Randall Wilcox. By the time I came out, she and Randall were already in the kitchen.

  "Drake, honey," Fanny drawled, "I'm yer sista Fanny, the one yer Pa loved the most." Before Drake could respond, she scooped him off his chair and into her arms, covering his face with kisses and leaving lipstick streaked over his cheeks and forehead.

  "Yer the spittin' image of him, jus' as handsome as he was."

  "Hello, Fanny," I said softly. She had come dressed in a sleeveless, black lace dress with a frilly bottom and a low-necked bodice. It fit her a size too tightly around the hips and bosom, but I could see little evidence of her pregnancy--perhaps only a slight thickening around the middle. She wore a widebrimmed black straw hat and had her hair pinned up behind her head. As usual, her makeup was too thick--the blue eye shadow, the rouge, and the bright red lipstick.

  "Well, hello yerself. Say hello ta Randall," she demanded, turning toward him. With his hat in his hands he had been standing in the kitchen doorway looking in. He was dressed in a plain, dark brown suit and looked much older than I remembered. Life with Fanny must be aging him quickly, I thought. He smiled shyly and nodded.

  "Hello, Heaven," he said. He looked toward Logan. "Logan."

  Logan simply nodded.

  "Ya'll could be more cordial," Fanny said quickly. "Randall was kind enuf ta escort me on this sad journey," she added, threading her right arm through his while she held on to Drake with her left, "especially with me bein' in a delicate condition," she added, looking slyly pleased!

  "That is very kind of him." didn't respond to her insinuation. I wanted to rescue Drake from Fanny's clutches. "Logan, weren't you giving Drake something to eat?"

  "Yeah, sure. His sandwich is ready." Logan suddenly regained the composure he had lost at the sight of Fanny and put the dish down on the table. "I made him some chocolate milk, too. That's what you wanted, right, Drake?" Drake nodded and Fanny reluctantly brought him back to his seat.

  "So," she said, looking around, "ya skinned this place ta the bone yit?"

  "There's nothing to skin, Fanny," I said coldly. "There's little of value here. Everything that belonged to Luke and Stacie is going to be placed into a trust for Drake. The lawyer is working on it."

  "I'll bet," she sneered. "Told ya she'd have it all wrapped up 'fore we got here," she said to Randall.

  "I didn't have to wrap anything up, Fanny. As a matter of fact, it was all set in motion before I arrived. Instructions were left," I said, leaving out that Tony had left them. I still didn't understand his role in this myself.

  "What 'bout the funeral and such?"

  "The funeral's tomorrow at eleven at the Kingsington Cathedral in Atlanta, burial at the church cemetery."

  "You payin' for that?"
>
  "It's all been taken care of, Fanny," I reiterated.

  "Ya stayin' here tanight?" she asked and looked at Logan. He refused to meet her eyes and busied himself putting away the milk and peanut butter.

  "No, we're going to stay in Atlanta at a hotel tonight," I said. I wanted to make sure Fanny dealt with me, not Logan. "But you can stay here and search the house to see if there's anything you might want."

  "Well, he was ma pa. He loved me the most. I gotta right," she declared stubbornly.

  "I suppose you do," I said softly. "Here are the keys to the house. Just bring them with you tomorrow and we'll give them to the attorney in charge of the property." I dropped the keys into her palm and she looked up at me with surprise.

  "What about Drake?" she said, turning to him. "You wanna stay here with Randall and me, Drake, honey? Then you kin go ta the funeral with us tommorrah."

  For a long moment Drake just stared up at her. Then he looked at me and then again at her.

  "I'm goin' to a hotel," he said, "and then on an airplane. And then to a toy factory!"

  "Oh, ya are?" She looked at me. "Ya takin' him back ta that castle?"

  "He's coming back with us, yes. We'll make a home for him."

  She stared at me a moment, the strangest blankness in her eyes. It was a blankness devoid of all feeling which I hadn't seen in her before. Then she turned back to Drake. "Well, honey, wouldn't ya rather be in yer own bed tanight?"

  "You're confusing him, Fanny," I interrupted. "He's confused enough. It's better his mind is occupied." She turned to me with more characteristic Fanny fury in her eyes.

  "I ain't confusin' him "

  "She's right," Randall said softly. He looked almost surprised that he had spoken up, but what he saw made him do it. Almost immediately, though, he realized he had brought Fanny's wrath down upon himself.

  "Oh, sure, ya'll say she's right," Fanny snapped.

  "Ya'll probably always take her side 'gainst me, won't ya?"

  "Come on," he said, in a pleading tone, "let's go have something to eat at a restaurant. We'll come back later."

  She stared at me hatefully and then her face softened and she put on one of her brilliant smiles.

  "Randall's right. I've been so upset about Pa, I couldn't think about food. And I'm eatin' fer two now, ain't I, Heaven," she said as she looked straight at Logan. "We didn't eat a thing since we left Winnerow, did we, Randall?"

  "No," Randall agreed, obviously confused by the tension between Logan and Fanny.

  "Ya wanna go to a restaurant, Drake, honey?" she asked.

  "Fanny, can't you see he's in the middle of eating a sandwich?"

  "Sandwich." She put her hand on his head and stroked his hair "Ya'd rather go ta a restaurant, wouldn't ya, Drake baby?"

  "I'm not a baby," he said, pulling back.

  "Well, I didn't mean yer a baby, honey."

  "Fanny, let's go eat," Randall pleaded. "We'll come back."

  "All right," she snapped. Then she put on her smile again. "We'll see ya all later on." She knelt down beside Drake and kissed him on the cheek. "Jus' as handsome as yer daddy was," she said. He stared at her as she joined Randall

  "We'll see you at the church tomorrow," I said coldly.

  "Oh, God, I forgot," Fanny said. "Poor Luke." She threaded her arm through Randall's. "I jest hate thinkin' 'bout it. Lemme borrow that handkerchief again, Randall, honey," she said and dabbed her eyes gently. She lowered her head.

  "So long," Randall said.

  The moment he and Fanny left the house, I took a deep breath and tried to calm the coiling rage Fanny had aroused in me. I looked at Logan, who wore a guilty, sad expression.

  "I'll take Drake's things out to the car," he said, "so we can leave as soon as he's finished."

  I nodded and then sat at the table and began wiping Fanny's lipstick off Drake's face.

  Early the next morning, with Drake between us, one of his small sweet hands in each of ours, we entered the church, like a family. Luke's circus employees crowded the pews and spilled over into the aisles of the small church. There were giants and midgets; a bearded lady in a long, black dress; animal trainers with their hair so long they looked like bodybuilding rock singers; acrobatic groups who were so in tune with one another's movements, they looked attached; some glamorous-looking women who assisted magicians and the ringmaster; some management types in business suits; and men who played clowns, their faces so ridden with real grief, it was as if they wore their sad makeup clown faces.

  All of them knew Drake, and at the sight of him it seemed as if the entire collection sighed and burst into tears at once. We walked down the aisle to the front pew and sat facing Drake's parents' caskets.

  "Are Mammy and Daddy coming here?" Drake asked, his big brown eyes looking around anxiously. I felt my heart almost break in two.

  "This is a special place to say good-bye to your mommy and daddy," I said, holding him tightly.

  He looked up at the stained-glass window, at the candles, at the two caskets sitting side by side. The bearded lady had just walked over to Luke's casket and, weeping profusely, leaned over it and placed a single rose atop it.

  "He was so kind to me," she whispered aloud to herself.

  "Why is Auntie Martha talking to that box?" Drake asked. "Who's in there? Did Melin the Magician put someone inside there?"

  "No, honey," I said. I tenderly kissed his forehead.

  "I want to look inside! I don't believe you! I don't believe you! I know my daddy's in there!" he shouted, trying to wrench himself free. "Let me go! I want my daddy!"

  He ran up to the coffin. But then he suddenly stopped. He put his tiny little ear against the wood and knocked. "Are you in there, Daddy?"

  I tried to run up to him and hold him and protect him, but the bearded lady gently took my elbow. "Please," she said kindly, "I think I can handle him. Drake and I have always been very good friends."

  Drake hugged the bearded lady. "Auntie Martha, Auntie Martha! Is my daddy in there?"

  "My precious, darling Drake. Your daddy is in Heaven; it is only his shell in there. But don't worry, darling, Heaven is just like a wonderful circus. The biggest circus your daddy and mommy ever saw. They will be very happy there. But most important, they want you to be happy here on earth. They want you to go to school, and do well, and stay healthy, and when you grow up, you can be a ringmaster just like your daddy was." She began to cry.

  "I want to be a ringmaster," Drake said. "And a lion tamer, too."

  "Now I want you to go back and sit down with your sister. She loves you very, very much."

  Then the bearded lady swept little Drake into her arms and kissed him good-bye.

  "Pm going to be a lion tamer," Drake told me proudly.

  "Of course you are, darling, you're going to be everything you want to be, and I'm going to help you," I assured him. "Now, Drake," I said, as I led him away from the casket, "let's sit down and listen to the service, okay?"

  He nodded bravely, clutching my hand so hard he seemed to be afraid I, too, would disappear. As we walked back to the pew, I saw that Drake was comforted by the sight of all the familiar faces. As I scanned the congregation, I was surprised Fanny and Randall hadn't yet arrived. But my mind didn't linger on her. We sat down and Logan put his arm around me. I couldn't help but stare at the casket and think about Luke.

  The organ music began. Then I heard a commotion at the door and turned around to look. Fanny and Randall were hurrying up the aisle. Fanny was wearing the same black cocktail dress she had worn yesterday and her face was just as heavily made up. As she slid into the pew beside us, she suddenly caught sight of the casket. She grabbed my hand as the tears began to spill down her cheeks, her heavy eye makeup turning her tears into muddy black and blue streams. At that moment I almost felt close to this sister of mine who seemed always to want to hurt me.

  The minister appeared. He delivered a fine eulogy for someone who hadn't really known Luke and Stacie. Obviously, Mr. S
teine had provided him with some biographical material. The minister talked about Luke's desire to provide entertainment and pleasure for people. He said that some people believed life, itself, was like a circus, and that God was like the ringmaster. He said that Luke had a finer performance awaiting him in Heaven, that God had called him to a greater responsibility. I was glad he had used the expression "God had called him." Little Drake, who stared at the closed coffins before him, looked up with widened eyes when the minister said those words. He remembered what I had told him.

  Then the minister talked about Stacie, who had been a good mother and a good wife, and how Luke's and her love for each other must have been so strong, God decided to take them at the same time so they could be together.

  Fanny began really sobbing, wailing loud enough so everyone in the church could hear. Randall comforted her, hoping to get her to lower her voice, I thought. For one moment, before the minister finished, Fanny and I looked at each other, and I saw my own sincere pain and sorrow reflected in her eyes. Luke had often shown her affection when she was younger, and Fanny hadn't seen very much of real affection in her life. She was suffering a real loss in Luke's death.

  The caskets were carried out of the church and brought to their plots in the cemetery. A monument stone had already been cut and engraved. Casteel was written on top and their Christian names below with their birth dates and the date of their death. Under that it simply read, "Rest in Peace." After the final words were said and the caskets lowered, the mourners began to depart.

  Out in front of the church Fanny scooped Drake into her arms again, tears streaming down her face.

  "Oh, Drake, honey, yer like an orphan now, yer like us." She showered his face with kisses. He didn't resist; he was numbed and overwhelmed by the service and the sight of the coffins. I thought she was overdoing it, however, and pulled him out of her arms.

  "He's not an orphan," I said, my face aflame with anger. "He's going to have a home and a family."