Gates of Paradise (Casteel Series #4)

by V. C. Andrews

  "Wish ya two had been born a few months apart," Aunt Fanny said, taking her seat at the table.

  "Woulda made it easier come ya birthdays." She followed that with a peal of laughter. "Well what ya all gaping at? If this is breakfast, let's eat. I ain't et since . . . early yesterday," she added, and laughed again.

  Despite Aunt Fanny's wild antics at the table and loud comments now and then, we all had a wonderful time. This birthday was the most magnificent and wonderful birthday of my life. It was truly a unique day, a day filled with music and laughter and sunlight, a day that would take up pages and pages in my diary. And I couldn't wait to have Luke pose for what I would call his "Eighteenth Birthday Portrait."

  Everyone made me feel like a princess. Even the servants had bought me presents. Then, another special thing happened.

  Before I could take Luke for a ride in my new car and then sneak away to the gazebo, my mother called me aside and asked me to go upstairs with her.

  We went to her and my father's bedroom. It was an enormous room with a great king-size bed that had a hand-carved hickory-wood headboard and large hickory-wood pillars. It looked like it would take a dozen men to lift it.

  Over the bed was one of the few things I knew my mother had taken from Farthinggale Manor, and because I knew it came from Farthinggale Manor, it was always something extraordinary, even magical to me. Of course, as an artist, I appreciated it as well. It was a painting of the old cabin in the Willies with two old people seated in rockers on the porch.

  My mother had redecorated and redesigned the room a few times since coming to Hasbrouck House.

  Now she had elegant, blue satin drapes lined with gold over the windows. The wall covering was a light blue velvet cloth and the matching light blue carpet was so thick and soft, I loved walking barefoot over it.

  Two of the newer and younger craftsmen at the factory had been employed to build customized dressers and closets out of the same rich hickory wood as the bed. My -mother's vanity table had been extended nearly the entire length of the right wall, which was now covered by a wall-length mirror. She took me directly to the vanity table and opened a middle drawer.

  "There is something I want you to have," she declared, "now that you have turned eighteen. Of course, you will wear it only on special occasions, I'm sure, but nevertheless, I wanted to give it to you today."

  She reached in and took out the long, coal-black jewelry case that I knew contained her most precious diamond necklace and matching earrings.

  "Oh, Mother!" My lips gaped open at the realization of what she was about to do.

  She opened the case and held it toward me. We both stared down at the sparkling diamonds. I could see that when my mother looked at them, she remembered special moments. How I wished that simply by wearing them, they would give me all the secrets of our past, plant my mother's precious memories into my mind as well, and teach me what wisdom and knowledge she had gained from her painful as well as her wonderful experiences.

  "This belonged to my grandmother Jillian, who lived like a queen."

  "And who wouldn't let you call her Grandmother," I whispered, remembering one of the few things she had told me about her life at Farthinggale Manor.

  "No." She smiled. "She was very, very vain and wanted to hold onto her youth and beauty forever, clinging to every fabrication, to every illusion with the tenacity of a drowning woman clinging to a slab of driftwood. Beautiful jewelry and beautiful clothing were some of the things she clutched. Of course," she continued, that gentle smile still on her lips, "she had the face-lifts and the spa treatments and bought all the miracle ointments. She wore hats with wide brims whenever she was in the sun because she was afraid the sunlight would bring on wrinkles.

  "Her skin did stay smooth and her complexion rich," she continued. I held my breath, for this was one of the longest descriptions of her grandmother she had related to me and I didn't want it to end. "And although she was twenty years older than Tony, those who didn't know, couldn't tell. She would spend hours and hours at her vanity table." My mother's smile widened.

  She paused, lost in a memory for a moment.

  "Anyway," she said, regaining her awareness,

  "this is something I inherited and it's something I want you to have now."

  "They're so beautiful, I'd be afraid to wear them."

  "You shouldn't be afraid of wearing and owning beautiful things, Annie. There was a time when I was.

  I used to feel guilty having so much and

  remembering how poorly I and my family had lived in the Willies." Her blue eyes suddenly took on a determined look. "But I soon discovered that the rich are no worthier than the poor to inherit and enjoy the richest and most wonderful things this life has to offer.

  "Never think you're better than anyone because you've grown up privileged," she continued with a vehemence that told me her words were offspring of much pain and suffering. "The rich are often driven by the same base motives as are the very dirty and very poor. Maybe even more than the poor," she added,

  "because they have more idle time to drift into their private madness."

  "You learned these things at Farthinggale?" I asked softly, hoping she had chosen my eighteenth birthday as the occasion to tell me all her darkest secrets.

  "Yes," she murmured. I waited breathlessly for her to say more, ,but then something snapped and she pulled herself up and out of that stream of memories instantly. Her eyes widened and brightened as if she had just come out of a hypnotic state. "But let's not talk about anything unpleasant. Not today of all days, honey." She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek and then placed the diamond necklace and earrings into my hands. "It's time to pass them on to you. Of course, I might come to you once in a while and ask to borrow them."

  We both laughed as she hugged me.

  "I'll just put them safely away and then go down," I told her as I rose from her embrace. I want to take Luke for a ride in my new car."

  "And don't forget Drake. He's looking forward to it, too, Annie." Mother was always insisting on my being close to Drake.

  "But there are only two seats!" I cried out in dismay. I would have to chose between them and risk hurting the feelings of one or the other.

  "Drake came all the way from college for your birthday, Annie. He made such a special effort. Luke is always here, and anyway, you spend far too much time with him. I've noticed you haven't had a date for months now. Other boys in town are probably becom-

  ing discouraged."

  "The boys in my class are silly and immature.

  All they care about is going somewhere and drinking themselves into a stupor to prove their manhood. At least I can have an intelligent conversation with Luke," I pleaded, aware that I was close to whining.

  "Still, Annie," she said, lowering her eyes, "it's not healthy." Her words fell like heavy drops of rain because I knew what she was saying was right. I nodded and tried to find a voice that didn't quiver.

  "I feel sorry for him."

  "I know, but soon he'll be going off to college to start his own life and you'll be traveling through Europe and meeting different people. Besides, his mother has money for him and he is very intelligent, your class valedictorian. There's no reason to pity Luke now. Why," my mother said smiling, "I bet he would resent it if he knew."

  "Oh please, never tell him I said that!"

  "I would never do such a thing, Annie. Don't you think I care for Luke and realize what he has had to go through and live with all these years? It's why I admire him for what he has become," she concluded, stroking my hair. "Now, go on, put your diamonds away and take Drake for a ride and then take Luke.

  There will be no tears or sad words today. I absolutely forbid it. I might even have the mayor of Winnerrow pass an instant ordinance against it," she said, laughing. I smiled away my worries.

  "Thank you for being so wonderful to me," I told her.

  "I could be no other way, honey. I love you too much."

  She
kissed me again and then I hurried off to put the diamonds safely in my jewelry drawer. When I went downstairs, I found Drake, Luke and my father in a serious discussion about the economy. They were arguing about the trade deficit and the need for protective legislation. I listened for a moment, admiring the way Luke held his own against the two of them. Then I burst into the study to announce rides in my Mercedes would begin.

  "We'll do it by age," I said diplomatically.

  "First Daddy, then Drake, and then Luke. Three times down Main Street and back."

  Daddy laughed.

  "Can you imagine what the residents are going to be saying?" he_ asked. "They'll think we're just parading our wealth."

  "If you've got it, flaunt it," Drake boasted. "I don't see the point in being ashamed of wealth. It's a phony, liberal attitude."

  "I'm just talking about a ride," I protested. They all turned to me and then suddenly, the three of them broke out into laughter because of the expression on my face and the way I was holding my hands on my hips. "Men," I said, and started to turn away.

  "Oh Annie," Daddy quickly said, and rushed to put his arms around me. "It's just that you're so cute when you're angry. Come on, let's see if that car is worth all the hullabaloo."

  I took them each for a ride. Drake insisted I stop at the luncheonette so he could visit with some old friends for a few minutes, but what he really wanted to do was show off the car. Luke was reading a magazine on the gazebo when Drake and I returned.

  Drake decided to complete one of his college assignments so he could have the rest of the day off and go out to dinner with all of us later.

  "I'll be right there," I called to Luke and ran into the house and up the stairs to my room to get his gift. Mommy and Daddy looked up surprised as I rushed by the sitting room.

  "Slow down!" my father called. "Or you'll be eighty before you're fifty." I heard him laughing at his own joke as I closed the front door behind me and flew around to the gazebo, my heart pounding.

  Flushed with excitement, I bounced up the steps and plopped down beside Luke.

  "Happy birthday," I said, and thrust out my hand. He studied the small package a moment and then plucked it out of my palm.

  "Might be keys to another Mercedes," he jested.

  He opened the package and then lifted the cover of the small box to display the black onyx, solid gold pinky ring. "Wow!"

  "Look inside the band."

  He turned it to read the tiny inscription that said, "Love, your sister Annie."

  It was the first time either of us had written anything that acknowledged our true relationship.

  Luke's eyes moistened with feeling, but he kept the tears imprisoned within their lids, not wanting to seem unmanly by shedding them, even out of happiness. I saw him try hard to close off his emotions and clamp down hard on them.

  "Put it on," I said quickly. He slipped it over his finger and held it up in the sunlight. How the stone sparkled.

  "It is so beautiful. How did you know I liked this jewel?"

  "I remember you said so once when we were looking at a magazine."

  "You're amazing." He stared down at the ring and ran the tip of his right forefinger over it and over it. Then he looked up quickly, his eyes bright with mischief. He reached behind himself and brought forward a flat, thin box in pink gift wrap. First, I opened the card.

  Amazingly, as if we had both agreed that our eighteenth birthday should end all pretense, his card was "To a Sister on the Occasion of her Eighteenth Birthday." Whenever he gave me a card, he often wrote his own, more personal lines next to the printed ones.

  .

  The years may come and go, and time, like the magical maze we've dreamt about, might separate us.

  But never fear my ability to solve the puzzle and find you wherever you might be.

  Happy Birthday,

  Luke

  .

  "Oh Luke. These words are gift enough. More precious to me than even my new car."

  His smile was small and tight.

  "Open the gift."

  My fingers trembled as I tried to tear away the paper neatly. I wanted to save it, save the ribbon, save every moment and everything associated with this wonderful day. Under the paper was a cream-colored box. I lifted the cover and saw tissue paper. Peeling it back, I gazed down at a bronze picture of a large house, beneath which was inscribed, "Farthinggale Manor, Our Magic Castle, Love, Luke."

  I looked up with some confusion and he leaned forward, taking my hands into his as he explained.

  "One day I was looking through an old trunk of my mother's in the attic and I came upon this newspaper clipping she had saved. It was from the social pages and it had a write-up of your parents'

  wedding reception. In the background of this picture of the guests and the party, was a clear view of Farthinggale Manor. I took it to a photographer who isolated the building in the photograph and then had the bronze replica made. That's actually it."

  "Oh Luke." I ran my fingers over the embossed metal.

  "Just so wherever you are and whatever you do, you'll never forget our fantasy game," he said softly.

  "And I never will."

  "Of course," he said sitting back quickly, aware of how closely our faces were to one another's, "that's the way it was years and years ago. Who knows what it looks like now."

  "It's a wonderful gift," I cried, "because it has special meaning for us. Only you would think of something like this, have to keep it hidden from my mother. You know how she gets when we make any references to Farthy."

  "Oh, I know. I was going to suggest that myself. I don't have to have any other reasons for her not to like me."

  "Oh she likes you, Luke. You should hear how she talks about you. She is very proud of you, really!"

  I exclaimed.

  "Really?"

  I saw how important that was to him.

  "Yes, really. She never stops talking about your being our class valedictorian. She thinks it's just wonderful how you've overcome obstacles to reach great heights,"

  He nodded with understanding.

  "Tall mountains may be harder to climb, Annie," he said, "but the view from the top is always worth it. Go for the tall ones. That's been my motto."

  He stared at me so hard. The mountain between us was just too tall.

  "Come on now," I said, gathering the card and wrapping paper with the gift, "It's time for your ride in my new car."

  I took his hand and hurried across the lawn to the car. Afterward, I snuck my gift up to my room and put it with my most private and personal things. Drake came to me that night before we went to dinner to ask what Luke had given me. He knew about the way we had exchanged birthday presents since we were twelve. I showed the plaque to him only after he promised not to tell my mother. I didn't show him Luke's card.

  "That doesn't look like it," he said when I uncovered the box. "Not the way I remember it."

  "But it must be, Drake. He found a picture and took it to the photographer."

  "I don't know." He shook his head. "Magic castle. You're still really intrigued with that place, aren't you?"

  "Yes, Drake. I can't help but be."

  He nodded, his eyes small and thoughtful. I put the gift away and we joined my parents for my birthday dinner. But that night, before I went to sleep, I took it out again and looked at it and wondered if Drake was right to continue to make fun of our fantasy game. Would I ever really find such a magical and wonderful place? I wondered.

  One day a few weeks later, I received a letter from Drake. He often wrote to me to describe his college life or give me advice. Even though he could be a tyrant at times and at times cruel to Luke, I missed his wit and humor and big brother—like antics. I looked forward to receiving mail from him and having him call me from time to time. His letters were usually filled with anecdotes about college girls or fraternities and events at Harvard. He told rue about the picture of the championship rowing team in which my uncle Keith, Drake's stepbrothe
r, a man neither of as saw much or heard from, appeared. So I wasn't surprised to receive this letter from him. What surprised me was the thickness of it. The envelope was so stuffed, I thought he had put something else in it beside a sheet of his personalized stationery.

  I sprawled out on my lace quilt and opened Drake's letter.

  .

  Dear Annie,

  I have news that I know will excite you. It has been very exciting for me, but you do your best to keep this from Heaven.

  After your wonderful birthday, all the way back to college I thought about your fascination with Farthinggale Manor, and since your childhood days how you and Luke have built it into something fantastical. I decided the only reason you two act so silly about it is because you, as well as I, don't really k e ow much about it or about the mysterious Tony Tatterton, my step-great-uncle and your step-great-grandfather. So I did something I know would upset Heaven, but I did it mostly for you.

  Annie, I wrote a letter to Tony Tatterton, introducing myself and asking him if I could come visit. What must have been moments after he received it, I received a phone call from a man with a very distinguished-sounding voice, who invited me to Farthinggale Manor. That man was Tony Tatterton and I accepted his invitation.

  Yes, Annie, I have just returned from your magical kingdom and I have some rather sad, tragic, and yet fascinating news to tell you.

  First, let me say it is a truly enormous place.

  And that wrought-iron gate is there. Oh, not quite as big as you and Luke always pretend it to be, but a rather big gate with large letters.

  But, that's where the fantasies begin and end.

  The house is dark and dilapidated. Believe me, I am not saying this because I have often ridiculed you and Luke whenever you pretended Farthinggale was your magic castle. There is nothing magic about it now; only something tragic.

  The big doors actually squeaked when they

  were opened. A butler who looked as old as Methuselah greeted me and. I entered the enormous building. The entryway seemed as big as the gymnasium in the Winnerrow High School, but it was dimly lit and the curtains were drawn everywhere so that I felt chilled.