Fallen Hearts

by V. C. Andrews

  "Well, the truth was she was always jealous of you. She told me you had been married and had moved back to Farthinggale. You could just see the lines on the paper dripping with jealousy. If she could, she would have written it in blood."

  We laughed.

  "I try not to think of those girls very much now," I said. "I get so angry when I do. I'll never forget the things they did to me." I embraced myself as I recalled the embarrassment and pain. Young girls could be very cruel to one another, I thought, especially spoiled-rotten rich young girls.

  "It was cruel, but they were jealous!" Amy repeated, her eyes wide. I knew that in the beginning she had to have been part of anything they did. If she hadn't been, they would have turned on her. They despised anyone who was in any way different. I was at a disadvantage immediately because I hadn't traveled as they did and Tony had bought me the wrong sort of wardrobe--rich, conservative clothing.

  "I guess so. Although I don't know why they should have been so jealous. They were all rich and all came from good families."

  "They couldn't help it," Amy said. "Especially when they saw you with Troy Tatterton and you told them he was too sophisticated to go out with any of them."

  I pushed away the stab of pain at the mention of Troy and forced myself to be light and airy.

  "I remember. And I remember it was shortly after that that they vandalized all my good clothes and tore all my sweaters. How arrogant they were when I told them I was going to Mrs. Mallory. They knew she wouldn't do anything to risk the loss of their tuition money."

  "Yes, they knew," Amy said, biting into her third finger sandwich.

  "And then, when I went to the dance and they pulled that horrible trick on me, spiking the tea and fruit punch with a laxative." I clutched my stomach, recalling the pain, the agony, and the embarrassment, knowing everyone at the dance was in on it.

  Amy stopped chewing.

  "I tried to warn you, I told you not to go to the dance as soon as I saw you had put on that revealing red dress."

  "Yes, I remember."

  Amy shook her head sadly. Then she smiled.

  "But you got back at them, sending Pru down that chute into the messy clothing."

  "A funny way to win their respect. I never became one of them, but at least they left me alone."

  Amy nodded, anxious to get on with her topic.

  "Now, from the letters I get and the things I hear when I see some of them, they're even more jealous of you than ever. They think you're the happiest, luckiest girl in the world."

  "Do they?"

  "Living here in Farthinggale, married to a handsome man, heir to such a huge fortune . . ."

  I looked at her. It seemed obvious to me that it was she who was jealous. Despite her wealth and her good breeding, her fancy schools and her colleges, her clothing and her traveling, she was alone, still searching for something romantic to happen to her. The frustration led her to overeat and the overeating made her unattractive.

  "You've gained a lot of weight, Amy," I said when she reached for her fifth finger sandwich. "Shouldn't you be concerned?"

  "Oh, I am. I try, but sometimes I just get so . . . hungry," she said and laughed. "But you're so right," she said and put the sandwich down. She sat back and smiled. "It's such a beautiful day, isn't it?"

  "Yes, it is."

  "Do you ever go into that English maze?" she asked. "I would be too frightened."

  "Sometimes."

  She paused and then leaned forward.

  Obviously, what she was about to ask next was the real motive for her visit. It had simply taken time for her to work up the courage. I knew what she was after was intimate information that would make her valuable to the girls of Winterhaven once more. They would phone her and invite her to their homes and she would feel important and wanted. It both saddened and annoyed me.

  "Tell me," she said, "now that so much time has passed. What was the reason that Troy Tatterton committed suicide?"

  "First," I said in a stiffly faunal and correct voice, "it wasn't a suicide. It was a tragic accident. His horse went out of control. And second, I wasn't at Farthinggale to serve as an amateur psychiatrist, analyzing everyone like some of those horrible girls at Winterhaven did and most likely still do, just because they took an introductory psychology course."

  "Well, of course, I--"

  "I don't care to contribute to that sort of gossip anyway, Amy. It's not ladylike for you to do it, either. It should be beneath you by now."

  "Oh, it is, it is," she said, widening her eyes for emphasis. "I was just . . . personally curious."

  "We shouldn't depend on other people's tragedies for our entertainment," I said curtly and looked at my watch. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to excuse myself," I said. "I have so many things left to do. I'm sure you understand."

  "Oh, of course. Perhaps we can spend time with each other again in the near future. I'm not due to leave for Paris until the fall. I'm going to study art," she said proudly.

  "That sounds wonderful. Yes, I'll phone you as soon as I can," I lied. I was glad to get rid of her. Even though she was not as cruel as the others, her arrival and our conversation had brought back too many unpleasant memories of my time at Winterhaven. I had succeeded in burying most in my trunk of sorrows and was unhappy to see some of it pulled out for display, even if only for a few minutes.

  After she left I asked Curtis if Tony had returned or called. When he said no, I called his office and his secretary told me they still had made no contact with him. Now, more worried than ever, I wondered what I should do. He had been acting so strange since Jillian's death.

  Why it should finally come to me, I do not know. I was sitting in the living room thinking about him when the possibility occurred to me. I stood up sharply and then hurried out of Farthy and across the grounds to the maze. I walked quickly through the corridors of hedges until I reached the cottage. A cold chill gripped my heart when I saw Tony's car parked in front. Slowly I approached the front of the cottage and peered into the small panel window behind the rose bush.

  There Tony sat in Troy's rocking chair facing the small fireplace. He barely moved. He had probably spent most of the day here, continuing to mourn in private. Although Troy was no longer there, for Tony, being in his brother's little home among his things, sitting in his chair, was enough to give him some brotherly comfort. I thought about going in to him, but changed my mind. Sometimes privacy is very important and very precious, I thought. I was sure that Tony didn't want to be discovered in the cottage at this time. All sorts of things would have to be said and confessed, not only by him, but also by me. I turned away and returned to Farthy.

  Just before dinner Tony came home. He pretended he had been working hard. I didn't have the heart to tell him his office had been calling all day. Curtis gave him some messages, which he took without speaking. Then he went directly up to his suite. He said he was hungry and he would be down to dinner, so I went to my own suite to shower and dress.

  Right after I showered, my phone rang. I lifted the receiver, expecting it to be Logan. It wasn't. It was Fanny. I hadn't spoken to her since our argument in the cabin, and I knew she would accuse me of avoiding her, but it seemed she had other things on her mind, worse things. She had finally found a way to pierce my heart.

  "I was sorry ta hear 'bout yer granny," she said. "Or didn't ya call her granny? Probably had a fancier way now that yer one of them Beantown high and mighty."

  "I called her by her name," I said. "Or I called her Grandmother. So, how have you been, Fanny?"

  "Took ya long enuf ta ask," she said. There was a slight pause and then, with a musical tone, she asked, "So tell me, Heaven Leigh, are ya pregnant yit? If you were still in the Willies ya would be."

  "No, I'm not, Fanny. I'm not ready yet to start a family."

  "Oh . . . well, I got some news fer ya. I am," she stated gleefully.

  "Really?" I sat down. I knew that in a moment she was going to tell me all about Randall
and how she had been carrying on with him and how he had now made her pregnant, but she had other surprises in mind.

  "An' it's not my fault, Heaven. It's yer fault."

  "My fault?" I was getting ready to hear how I had left her all alone back in Winnerow after I had made promises when we were younger to always look after her. She always accused me of letting Pa sell her to the Reverend and his wife and told me I should have done more to stop her from selling him her baby. Whatever she was now, whatever happened to her now, was my fault because it was the result of all that.

  "Ya shoulda been here; ya shoulda had more interest," she sang. I didn't like the light, happy tone in her voice. There was something in it, something quite unexpected.

  "Interest? Interest in what? What are you talking about, Fanny?" I asked, trying to sound as bored and disdainful with her little games as I could.

  "Interest in yer own man, in Logan," she declared.

  "Logan? What does this have to do with Logan?" I asked her, my heart beginning to pitterpatter.

  "It's Logan who made me pregnat, that's what," she said. "I'm the one havin' yer husband's baby, not you."

  TEN Fanny's Game

  . GOOSE BUMPS BROKE OUT OVER MY ARMS AND LEGS. I FELT as if two arms carved from ice had embraced me. Fanny's short laugh sounded like static on the line. The sounds stung, yet even though I wanted to, I couldn't pull the phone away from my ear. It was stuck there like maple syrup frozen on a winter tree in the Willies. It encouraged her. I could envision her looking hateful and vicious, her eyes burning, her small white teeth flashing. Fanny had always been able to turn her emotions on and off, to change from one to another as easily as she changed channels on a television set.

  "If it's a boy, I'm a gonna name him Logan," she said. "And if it's a girl, I think I'll name her Heaven."

  For a long moment I didn't respond; I couldn't respond. My lips were sewn shut, my teeth pressed so hard against each other, I was afraid I'd break one. I could feel the veins in my neck straining as I made a tremendous effort to swallow. How my throat ached.

  Thoughts ran frantically through my mind with lightning speed. Perhaps Fanny was lying because of her jealousy of me. Not that I didn't believe she was pregnant. I believed that, but I believed the child had to be someone else's and not Logan's. Probably it was Randall's, but once Fanny discovered she was pregnant, she came up with this plan, taking advantage of the fact that Logan was in Winnerow so much and we were separated so much.

  "I don't believe you," I finally told her, my voice so thin and sharp I hardly recognized it myself. "You're lying and it's a horrible and mean thing to do! But I'm not surprised at you, Fanny," I continued, getting more control of myself. "It doesn't surprise me that you would still try to come between me and Logan. You've been trying to do that from the first day I met him," I accused, "and he showed that he wanted to be with me and not with you."

  She laughed again, sounding as if it were I and not she who lived in a world of pretend. For the first time she appeared to be the superior one, her tone of voice condescending. I was the one who had to be humored; I was the one who had to be treated like a child. It made me so angry, I wished she were there in front of me so I could pull out her hair or slap the arrogance out of her face.

  "Go on, laugh. You want me to remind you? Shall I remind you of the time Logan was waiting for me by the river and you took off your dress and went running up and down naked to try to get him to come after you before I arrived? He didn't go after you, did he?"

  "Only because he heard you was comin', Heaven. He asked me ta take off my dress. I said I might an' he said, go on, I dare ya ta, so I did, an' then he got scared when he heard ya comin' "

  "Another one of your lies," I retorted. "Why, that first time he ever came to our cabin, you paraded about in your panties with nothing covering your breasts but a few of Granny's old shawls. Did he ask you to do that, too?"

  "No, but he was lookin' pretty good, wasn't he? He was always lookin' at me, jus' hopin' fer the chance."

  "That's ridiculous. That is the most ridiculous thing . . why. . . why didn't he choose to go with you instead of Maisie Setterton then when he had the chance, huh?" I asked. I hated the whiny sound in my voice and I hated playing this childish game with Fanny, but she had me in such a rage. I couldn't help it.

  "He was jus' tryin' to get ya jealous by goin' with Kitty Dennison's sister because he thought ya still liked Cal Dennison. He told me," she said. "So there. Ya made me tell ya the ugly truth about him, but I ain't gonna hide any of it no more. I'm thinkin' only about myself."

  "You're lying," was all I could say. Why was it that Fanny was always able to find the weak spots in my walls of defense? All our lives, as long as I could remember, she either played on my fears or my conscience.

  "I'm not lyin'. You'll see when ya ask Logan and make him tell ya the truth. I'll tell ya jus' what ta ask him Ya ask him why he was so nice ta me when I went over to the factory site. Ya ask him why he didn't say no when I offered ta bring him somethin' ta eat at the cabin that night. Then ya ask him why he didn't send me home.

  "Ya don't hafta ask him," she said quickly. "I'll tell ya. He always wanted me, but he jus' thought I wasn't as good as you. Well, yer good, yer smart, and yer refined, but yer not with him when he wants ya to be. A man likes his woman at his side, don'tcha know that? Funny thing is yer suppose ta' be smarter than me and ya don't know half as much as I do when it comes to men."

  "I don't believe you," I said weakly.

  "Don'tcha? He told me all about yer wonderful

  suite at Farthy, 'bout that picture of the Willies ya got hangin' over the bed, 'bout--" "Shut up," I said. "I don't want to hear any more of this."

  "Okay, I'll shut up, but only fer now. I'm havin' Logan's child and he's gonna be responsible, ya hear? I want him ta take care of me forever and ever." She paused. I could hardly breathe. "He didn't even ask me if I had any protection that night. He jus' took me inta his arms and--"

  I slammed the phone down, but I imagined that instead of being angry about it, Fanny was probably laughing. For a few moments I just sat there staring up at the picture of the Willies hanging above the bed. Then I crumpled on the bed and cried. My body shook so hard with the spasms of grief and pain, the whole room seemed to be vibrating.

  Betrayed again, by the one man I thought I could always believe. By the one man who was always there. He was just like the others! It was unfair. Why was I cursed to try and trust and believe in the men whose love I needed, when they always betrayed me in the end? Fanny was right--I was dumber than she was when it came to men. Oh, Logan, how could you! How could you!

  Slowly my tears wound down until I sat up, sniffling and rubbing my eyes red with my fists until they actually burned. I took deep breaths until I felt my heartbeat slow down. Then, gathering my wits together, I chastised myself for permitting Fanny to get to me. There was still a good chance she had made it all up. I had to hope for that.

  With my fingers trembling, I dialed the number of the cabin in the Willies. The phone rang and rang and rang, but Logan didn't answer. I called the factory site, but again, no one answered. He might be at his parents' I thought, and dialed their number. His mother answered.

  "Why, no, dear," she said, "he's not here right now. We invited him for dinner, but he's at the diner, having dinner with his foreman and one of the contractors. Is something wrong? Can we be of any help?"

  "Tell him I want him to call me as soon as he returns," I said. "No matter what time."

  "I will. Right away, dear."

  Not more than five minutes later the phone rang. It was Logan calling me from the diner in Winnerow.

  "What's wrong, Heaven? Something with Tony?"

  "No, Logan. Something with Fanny," I said coldly.

  "Fanny?" I heard him swallow deeply on the other end of the phone, heard the hesitation in his voice. My heart closed like a clam shell. "Ah . . ah . . . what are you talking about?"

  "You know
what I'm talking about."

  There was silence on the other end of the phone. "Heaven, I don't. What's wrong with Fanny?"

  "You had better come right home, Logan," I said.

  There was another long pause. "Heaven, what has Fanny been telling you? You know she wants to poison things between us."

  "She's pregnant," I said. I wasn't going to add anything more.

  "Pregnant? But--"

  "I'm not going to discuss this over the phone, Logan," I said.

  "All right," he said and sighed. "I'll start out immediately."

  It was as good as a confession. I cradled the phone gently, as if it were a fragile baby bird and then turned and saw myself in the wall of mirrors. My neck and chest were covered with red blotches, a rash that had broken out because of my nerves. My face was so flushed I looked as though I had a terrific fever. My eyes were bloodshot and my hair, still wet from my shower and shampoo, drooped down the sides and back of my head. I looked like Jillian during one of her moments of madness.

  As I sat there staring at this strange image of myself, my feelings raced from anger to outrage to self-pity. My husband had slept with my sister Fanny had at last found some satisfying revenge and given voice to her aching jealousy. I was hurt, mortally wounded. How much could love withstand? How much? People who came to Farthy would take one look at my face and see that I was a woman whose husband had betrayed her. Imagine what such information would be in the hands of someone like Amy Luckett. I imagined the vicious and arrogant girls of Winterhaven gathering around me to chant: "Heaven was betrayed! Heaven was betrayed!"

  And then, as suddenly as it had come, the selfpity slipped off my image like a cellophane wrapper on a forbidden chocolate and was replaced with the heavier, darker wrapping of guilt. Troy. My beloved, beautiful, passionate Troy. I had betrayed Logan with Troy. But it wasn't the same, no, not at all. For I loved him, truly loved him with all my heart and soul even though he was more specter than flesh and blood. How could I refuse him, how? And it wasn't wrong, wasn't the same, it wasn't, because he was only a ghost of my love come back for a precious fleeting moment. My love was his life blood, and to have denied him that would have been to have denied who I was, the spirit that was purest and noblest in me. He had come back and then had returned to that unknown, unclear, mysterious world of oblivion, never to be heard from or seen again. Surely that made what I had done different from what Logan had done. I couldn't believe that Logan had any deep feelings for Fanny. It was lust, simple lust that drove him to her, and it was not love, but revenge and hatred that drove her to him She was merely an object of pleasure, a sexual distraction, a sorceress. At this moment I hated her for making my life tawdry, for turning what was pure into something soiled and base, and my hate for her gave me the strength to face the crisis.