Fallen Hearts

  No, I decided, I would not equate my love with Troy with Logan's carnal act. Logan was a man of flesh and blood, Troy a man of spirit and dreams Fanny was right--she knew more about men than I did. But I knew more about survival.

  I said nothing about the situation with Fanny to Tony that night at dinner. I decided to let Logan explain his sudden return to Farthy himself. In any case I didn't want Tony ever to know. At dinner that night, as I tried to remain composed and seemingly serene, I saw that Tony looked somewhat revived, dressed in one of his light blue summer suits, his hair neatly brushed, but he made little conversation and from time to time simply stared across the table at me, his eyes taking on a glazed, far-off look like someone whose eyes had turned inward and who was really looking at some image or memory from his past. Between courses he sat with his elegant, wellmanicured hands templed under his chin, saying nothing, and then he lowered those fingers and drummed a mindless beat on the lace tablecloth and on my nerves.

  The little I ate, I ate because I didn't want to draw any attention to my state. Our longest

  conversation came when I suggested Tony consider taking a short vacation.

  "A change of scenery might do you a world of good," I insisted.

  "Would you come, too?" he asked quickly.

  "Oh, I couldn't," I said. "Not with Logan so involved with the new factory in Winnerow. I'll have to spend more time with him Just like any man, he doesn't know when he's working too hard or too long."

  Tony smiled and nodded.

  "Jillian used to constantly complain about that. She was always after me to take her on a special honeymoon and if I protested about the work I had, she would tell me to leave it to Troy. Troy was creative; he was a creative genius, but he was no administrator, no manager.

  "Still, if it hadn't have been for Jillian, I probably wouldn't have taken the holiday trips I did take, or gone to the parties, or held the dinners here. She could be such a bright spot, such a jewel, so full of energy, moving through this house with a trail of laughter behind her, her jasmine scent left lingering in the air.

  "Oh, I know she doted on herself far too much, but it was nice to have something soft and beautiful, and even if only illusionary, someone forever young. Funny," he said, sitting back and smiling to himself, "but even when she was shut away in her suite, caking herself with makeup and dousing herself with perfume, I felt good knowing she was there. I could walk past her doors and inhale her scent, and remember." Then his voice became mournful, and his faraway eyes focused on me, the pain returning to them, bright and piercing.

  "Now the doors are shut, the hallway smells like any other hallway in this big house, and there is only the silence." He shook his head and looked down.

  "Tony, this is why I think you need a change of scenery, if only for a short while. Tell me some of the things that have to be done over that time, and I'll look after them for you. I can do it," I assured him.

  He looked up, smiling. "I know you can. I don't worry about that anymore." He took a deep breath and sighed. "I'll see," he said. "Maybe."

  After dinner he retired to his office to work. I tried to distract myself by reading, but Fanny's laughter kept echoing in my memory and pulling my eyes from the pages and lines. Finally I went upstairs to wait for Logan in our suite.

  It was very late when he finally arrived. I had fallen asleep in my clothes, but my eyes snapped open instantly the moment he walked into the suite.

  He stood there looking at me. He looked like he had run all the way-His eyes were bloodshot, his shoulders sagged, and his hair was disheveled. It looked as if he had been put through an electric mixer. He hadn't shaved and his full-faced beard looked scraggly. His suit was wrinkled and his tie loosened, the collar unbuttoned. It was as if Fanny's hold on him was still visible.

  For a moment we just looked at each other. Then I sat up, brushed back my hair with the palms of my hands, and took a deep breath.

  "I want you to tell me the truth, Logan," I said, my voice seemingly devoid of emotion. "Did you make love with my sister?"

  "Make love," he repeated, sneering. He took off his suit jacket and draped it over a chair by his closet. "I'd hardly call what happened between us love."

  "I don't want to play word games with you, Logan. Fanny called to tell me she was pregnant and to tell me the child was yours. Is the child yours?"

  "How would I know? How could any man be sure when it comes to Fanny?"

  "Tell me what happened, Logan," I said, turning away. I looked down at the floor. I felt stunned. My whole body became as numb as if I had slipped and fallen into one of the forest ponds in the Willies when they had only a paper-thin sheet of ice on the surface. How deeply were Logan and I about to sink now? I wondered.

  "It happened when we first started work on the factory," he began. "I was just so wrapped up in everything, I didn't think clearly. She came there a few times and just hung around, watching me work, talking to the laborers. I didn't think much of it. I certainly wasn't going to chase her away, although once or twice I did ask her not to distract the men when they were busy."

  "Go on," I said. He walked across the room and stood by the mirror, his back to me.

  "One day she said she was going to come over to the cabin with a hot home-cooked meal. She said she only wanted to make up for some of the trouble she had caused us; she only wanted to be thought of as a sister again, to be part of the family." He spun around.

  "I believed her, Heaven. She was very convincing and seemed very pathetic."

  "Fanny is a wonderful actress," I said.

  "She cried to me about her lost child, talked about how hard it was to live in the same community with her, seeing her from time to time, but unable to be a mother to her. Then she talked about Jane and Keith and how they won't have anything to do with her. She told me about her marriage of convenience to old Mallory, how she got a nice house and some money out of it, but how she was all alone, how she was without any family. She seemed so sincere that I thought maybe she was changing. Maybe time and maturity had made her see things."

  "So you made love to her?" I asked, turning on him. He shook his head.

  "Not because of that. That's not what happened. She did show up with the hot meal and we were having a good dinner together. She had me laughing at stories about the old days, about some of the naughty things she had done in school." He stared at me a moment, as if deciding whether or not to go on. I would be spared no ugly details, I thought.

  "And?"

  "Well, she had brought a few bottles of wine along. I didn't think anything of it. We had them at dinner and kept talking and drinking and talking. I guess I got a little intoxicated. And I'd been missing you so. But I'm not going to make that my excuse," he added quickly. "I know that's not a justifiable excuse . . I just want you to understand what happened and how it happened."

  "I'm listening," I said. I was cold-eyed, stern, and determined. He had to look away.

  "Well, it was a hot night to start with, and as usual Fanny was wearing this very loose, off-theshoulder thin, cotton dress. I didn't realize it at first, but as we were talking and drinking, that dress slipped lower and lower until . . ." He shook his head. "I don't know how it actually happened. One moment we were sitting by the table and the next she had her arms around me and she was half naked.

  "She kept talking about how lonely she was and how lonely I must be and how much she needed to be loved and how one night wouldn't matter. The wine had made me dizzy. Before I realized it, we were in bed.

  "I tell you, it was more like I was raped than I made love to her," he pleaded.

  "Oh, how you must have suffered," I said sarcastically. He pulled his hands back and nodded slowly.

  "I know. You're not wrong. I can't make up any excuse that would justify what happened, but believe me, it was that one time only. After I realized what was happening and what we had done, I felt terrible and I demanded she leave the cabin and not come around the site anymore.

&n
bsp; "I thought that was the end of it . . . a one night's indiscretion. I put it out of my mind, convincing myself it was a nightmare. I thought that if I thought of it that way, I could live with it and eventually forget it.

  "Please, Heaven, believe me. There is nothing more to it. I don't love Fanny. I don't even like her. But . . . but I'm only a man and she knew how to take advantage of that fact, just as the devil would," he added quickly.

  "I've avoided her like the plague ever since. She came back to the site a few times, but I wouldn't even look at her." He sat down beside me. "I know it's asking a lot to ask you to forgive me, but I am asking you to do that," he said. He reached for my hand. I let him take it, but I didn't look at him. "I don't know what I can do to make it up to you. I can only tell you that you are my life now, and if you turn from me or want to leave me, I don't know what I'll do. I mean that."

  I didn't say anything. He lowered his head. He couldn't know it, but there was a war going on inside me. It was as if there were two of me. One wanted to be hard and mean, wanted to say all sorts of vicious and angry things and chase him from the suite. Men, I thought. How false they could be. They never stopped being little boys, selfish little boys. This part of me knew Logan was trying to twist and connive events, trying to make himself out to be the real victim here. As if it could be all Fanny's fault.

  Then the second part of me, the softer, forgiving part, saw the agony in Logan's eyes, the torment in his face. He was afraid of losing me. Perhaps he was telling the truth; perhaps he was guilty of only a single indiscretion. Maybe he had been lonely and I had been wrong not to accompany him to Winnerow.

  And what had kept me from doing that? my second self asked. Wasn't it my longing for Troy, my infatuation with the past, my effort to make the impossible possible? I did bear some guilt here. It was only just that I be forgiving.

  "Heaven," he said again, pressing my hand to his cheek. "Please, believe me. It was a mistake and I'm sorry for it. I didn't want to do anything to hurt you."

  "She says the baby is yours," I repeated.

  "What should I do? You tell me what to do. I'll do whatever you think is right."

  "When it comes to Fanny, you can't be concerned with what is right and what isn't. Fanny will get her way. What she will do is make it known that you and she slept together."

  "But everyone in Winnerow knows what she is," he said. "Surely because of that--"

  "Because of that they'll believe her," I said. "If every Tom, Dick, and Harry is sleeping with her, why not Logan Stonewall, too? Many of those people are eager and willing to believe bad things about us, either because they are jealous or because they still can't stomach a Casteel being so wealthy and powerful in their hometown."

  "Are you saying we should let Fanny blackmail us?"

  "It might be your child, might it not, anyway?" I asked. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. "I'll handle Fanny," I said. "She'll be happy once she knows she's going to be taken care of, once she knows she's hurt me deeply."

  "Oh, God, Heaven. I'm so sorry. So sorry," he wailed, pressing his hands to his face. A part of me wanted to comfort him, but a stronger, harder part of me wouldn't let me.

  "Think of an excuse for your sudden return," I said.

  "I don't want Tony to know about this right now." "All right. I'll just tell him I missed you and--" I spun around so fast he swallowed the rest of his words.

  "I don't want to hear any of that right now, Logan. I just want to go to sleep and see what I can do in the morning to pick up my self-respect. Do you understand?"

  He nodded, looking so weak and insecure and regretful I was almost unable to continue my hard demeanor.

  "Good," I said and prepared for bed.

  Afterward, he crawled in beside me, taking great care not to touch me. He crumpled up as far away as he could on his side of the bed. When I looked over at him, he did look like a little boy, a little boy who had been naughty and sent to bed without any supper. He would try not to breathe too loud, afraid he might bring on some further chastisement.

  I couldn't help wondering how it would have been, had it been the other way around. What would have been his reaction had I confessed to him about my meeting with Troy and our lovemaking? Would he have forgiven me or hated me? Would he have understood? Would he have forced me to sleep far away from him in the bed and not touched me, not given me any hope of redeeming myself?

  I cried silently that night for all of us, even for Fanny, who was so filled with jealousy and hate that she was willing to destroy herself just to get back at me. I knew that in years to come she would use this new child like a whip, stinging me whenever she could by reminding me whose child it was. My only hope was that it would look so much like Randall Wilcox that the question as to who was the father would be obviously answered. But in my heart I knew it really wouldn't matter anyway. Once I sent that first check to Fanny, she would have her hold over us.

  Oh, well, I thought, rationalizing, at least it would all go to family

  Family. How strange and ugly that word had become. Perhaps that was the saddest thing of all.

  Tony was still in such a daze the next day that he didn't even think much about Logan's sudden return. Logan said he only half listened to anything he told him. In a way it worked out for the better that he had come home, for he accompanied Tony to the Tatterton offices and stores and was able to take over some of the duties Tony was either not able or willing to assume yet.

  Every day for the remainder of the week Logan brought me some gift before dinner. I knew he was trying to win his way back into my heart. He brought me flowers and clothing, candy and jewels. He didn't press hard for my forgiveness. He simply gave me his gifts and waited hopefully for a sign or for a warm word.

  Finally, one night when he came to the suite after spending the day with Tony, he found me crying. I let him embrace me and kiss me and stroke my hair. I listened to his pleas and his words of love. I let him make eternal promises and beg me for my forgiveness and love. And then I let him kiss me hard on the lips.

  I was afraid myself that we would never make love again, or that when we did, it would be so mechanical and impersonal it would mean nothing. But my hunger to be loved and to put aside all the hardship and misery I had experienced was greater than I had realized, and Logan's need to be forgiven was all- consuming. We made love passionately and before it was over, both of us were crying in each other's arms.

  "Oh, Heaven," he said. "I'm so sorry I hurt you, so sorry I gave you any pain. I would run through a hall of fire rather than have done this to you."

  "Just kiss me and love me and never let me out of your mind again," I whispered breathlessly.

  "Never. I'll make you so much a part of me that when you're sick, I'll be sick; when you're tired, be tired. When you laugh, I'll laugh. We'll be like Siamese twins, connected by a love so strong even Cupid will be amazed. I swear it," he said. He kissed me so many times, he made my body tingle and sing. He was so grateful for my love and forgiveness, he made me feel like a princess again, bestowing the gift of life and happiness upon him.

  That night we both slept more soundly than either of us had the entire week. In the morning when we went to breakfast, it was as if the pall of mourning had been lifted from the house. Even Tony seemed more alert and eager to begin the day. He and Logan walked about Winnerow again. An old energy and excitement returned. We all decided to leave that afternoon for Winnerow and visit the site. And while we were there, I was going to pay a visit to my sister Fanny

  Logan knew that was what I was setting out to do when I left him and Tony at the site Fanny had a contemporary-styled house that sat high on a hillside, directly across from the mountain where the log cabin was. She had built it with the money she had gotten from Mallory, the elderly man she had married and then divorced. He had been paying her alimony all this time. Her two Great Danes came barking around my car as I drove up. She had to come out to put them into their pen before I would get out
of my car. She thought that was very funny.

  "They're good watchdogs," she said. "Neva know who's comin' up here, know what I mean, Heaven?"

  "Just keep them away from me," I scowled. They looked scraggly and poorly cared for. Fanny never liked animals. She said she kept them only for protection, but even guard dogs needed some love and affection.

  "Ain't this a pleasant surprise," she said when I finally got out of my car.

  "It's no surprise, Fanny Not to you."

  She threw her head back and laughed.

  "There shouldn't be no hard feelin's betwixt you and me, Heaven. Sistas got ta stick togetha, don't they?"

  "Yes, they do. And sisters don't try to steal husbands, either."

  That made her laugh again.

  "Ya comin' inside or ain't my home good enuf for ya now?"

  Without replying, I walked into her home. She hadn't done much to it since I had been in it last. Her eyes were on me as I looked about.

  "Not too fancy, but comfortable," she said. "Maybe now I kin afford ta git some fine, rich things." "What happened to your alimony?"

  "Didn'cha hear? Ole Mallory kicked the bucket an' the ingrate left everythin' ta his children. Lot they cared 'bout him, but he was blind ta truth, jus' like most men."

  "I see."

  "I'm not goin' ta offa ya anythin' ta eat or drink. Ya probably don't think I'm clean enuf now that ya live in a palace an eat offa silva dishes and outta silva bowls."