Fallen Hearts

  "Leave my room at once, Tony! I'm going to call the servants if you don't."

  "Leigh," he whispered.

  "I'm not Leigh!" I shouted. "I'm Heaven! Tony, get out of here! You're frightening me!"

  Ignoring me again, he lifted the blanket and slipped under it to get beside me. I tried to escape, but he reached out and seized me around the waist, pulling me toward him.

  "Leigh, don't leave me. Please. Don't listen to anything Jillian says. She's mad, jealous of you, jealous of every other woman. She's even jealous of our maids because one has nice hands or one has a nice chin." He brought his lips to my shoulder, pushing my nightgown down my arm with his cheek so he could press his mouth to my skin.

  "Tony, stop!" I screamed.

  I brought my hand to his temple and pushed him as hard as I could to keep him away from me. When his hand touched my breast, I screamed and clawed his face with my nails.

  "Get out! Get out! Don't you know who I am? Don't you remember that I'm your own daughter and I'm pregnant!"

  I slapped him across the face.

  He stared at me a moment, blinking rapidly. I could see reality pushing the memories away, bringing him out of the past and back into the present. The realization of where he was and what he was doing came to him with a jolt. He swallowed hard and looked around.

  "My God," he said. "I thought . ."

  "You thought? You're drunk and disgusting! I want you to get out of here. Get out!" I screamed, getting out of the bed. He stared up at me.

  "Oh, Heaven, forgive me. I just . . ." He looked at the nightgown he had brought and then up at me, his hand on his reddened cheek. "I just got confused.

  "Confused?" The troubled thoughts that always crowded into the darkest corners of my brain came rushing out. I remembered other times when he touched me and kissed me, and suddenly every one of them seemed ugly, lustful, incestuous. Every fear, every sick and sorrowful memory announced itself. I could barely think; my mind was an echo chamber of screams and shouts. I pressed my hands against my ears. "You'relio better than any of my backwoods relatives, my hillbilly siblings, as you used to call them!" I shouted so loud my voice broke. "Your money hasn't made a single bit of difference. You're no better than the ignorant Winnerow hillbillies who rape their daughters!"

  "Heaven, no . ."

  "Get out! Get out!" I shouted again.

  He lifted himself from the bed, scooping up Jillian's sheer nightgown as he did so, and began to back away toward the door, shaking his head.

  "Please, please forgive me. I was drunk . . I didn't know what I was doing. Please," he said, holding his hand out toward me.

  I shook my head, the tears rushing down my cheeks, my body shaking.

  "Get out," I hissed, my voice a raspy whisper.

  "I . . . I'm sorry," he repeated and rushed out the door.

  The moment he was gone, I collapsed on my bed and wailed. I cried hysterically, unable to stop the rage of anger and sorrow from possessing me. Every sad thing that had happened restated itself and demanded to be mourned with equal intensity. I was crying for the mother I had never seen or known; crying for Tom; crying for Troy; crying because of Logan's infidelity with Fanny; crying for Luke and for Stacie; and I was crying for Heaven, poor lost little Heaven Leigh Casteel.

  The feel of a cool, soft little hand on my shoulder finally stopped my outburst of tears. I took a deep breath and turned my head. Little Drake was standing there looking down at me, his face filled with confusion, but his eyes also showing compassion.

  "Don't cry," he said. "I won't go away."

  "Oh, Drake. Drake!" I cried and pulled him to me, holding his small body as closely and as tightly as I could. "I won't let you go away. We need each other. Like two orphans." I kissed his forehead. "I'll always be here for you. Always."

  1-le looked up at me, his face still a mirror of my own sorrow.

  "I'll stop crying," I said. "Now, stop crying."

  I lifted him onto my bed and we fell asleep curled up beside each other like two kittens who had lost their mother.

  I awoke with Drake in my arms, his little head nestled softly against my bosom. Quietly, so as not to wake him, I slipped out of bed and got washed and dressed. It was still early and the house was quiet. The servants hadn't yet opened the curtains. Lights left on throughout the night were still on. I went down the marble stairway, moving quickly but softly, and found Curtis getting ready to start his day.

  "Up early, Mrs. Stonewall," he said.

  "I have a lot to do today, Curtis, and quickly. First call the airlines and make reservations for myself and Drake. We'll be going back to Winnerow this morning. Inform Miles. Send the maids up to Drake's room. I have some clothing I've packed and some I want them to pack. There are some suitcases in my room already packed. Have Miles take them down to the car. Please ask Rye to prepare a small, quick breakfast for Drake and myself. In a day or two I shall send for some other things to be packed and delivered to my home in Winnerow."

  "You're leaving Farthinggale?" Curtis asked. I didn't respond. He took one look at the sternness in my face and started to carry out my commands immediately. When I went back upstairs, I found Drake was beginning to wake up. I got him out of bed, washed and dressed him quickly. He was impressed with my intensity and hardly said a word. The maids arrived and I gave them their orders. Drake watched as they began packing his things, but he asked nothing, even when Miles began taking some of it to the limo.

  "We're going for a trip to Winnerow and my own home." I told him as I took his hand to lead him down to breakfast.

  "Isn't this your home?" he asked me, his small voice filled with surprise and disappointment.

  "No, it's Mr. Tatterton's," I said. I couldn't bring myself to say "my father's." "But don't worry. You'll have your own room again, and you know what? Logan is building a toy factory there. You'll see it."

  That filled him with excitement and curiosity.

  I saw that Curtis had reported my mood to the other servants. Everyone worked quickly, efficiently, quietly, communicated to one another with gestures and looks rather than words. I was expecting Tony to come downstairs any moment, dressed for work, and I was expecting him to try to talk me out of going. However, Drake and I finished our breakfast before he arrived. Even Curtis was surprised.

  "Mr. Tatterton is late this morning," he said as if he had to make excuses for him. I didn't say anything. I took Drake back upstairs to my suite and placed a phone call to Logan.

  "We're coming home," I told him as soon as he answered.

  "Coming home?"

  "Drake and I. I'll explain it all when I get there," I said.

  I gave him the details concerning our flight and he said he would be at the airport. After I hung up the phone, I looked around the suite, checking for anything else I wanted to bring with me. Curtis came to the doorway to tell me that Miles had everything packed in the limo.

  "That's fine, Curtis. Come along, Drake." I took his hand and we started out.

  "Mrs. Stonewall," Curtis said when we were out in the corridor, "if I could trouble you for just one moment."

  "What is it, Curtis?"

  "Well, when Mr. Tatterton didn't come down, I thought I had better come up to check on him. I knocked on his door to see if he wanted anything brought up, but he didn't respond. And then . . ."

  "Yes?" I saw that Curtis looked about as uncomfortable as I had ever seen him look. His face was flushed and he kept tugging on the collar of his shirt as though it were a size too small.

  "I noticed the door to Mrs. Tatterton's suite was opened and I looked in to see if anything was wrong. Oh, dear," he said, shaking his head.

  I was getting impatient with him. "What is it, Curtis? You know yourself I have to be on my way quickly."

  "I know, but . . but I wish you would have a look for yourself. I hope Mr. Tatterton's all right."

  I stared at him a moment. I thought Tony was suffering a hangover this morning, a well-deserved one.

>   "Drake, go down with Curtis. I'll be right along," I said.

  "Thank you, Mrs. Stonewall," Curtis said. He took Drake's hand and they went downstairs. I continued down the corridor to what had been Jillian's suite and peered in, just as Curtis had done.

  There lay Tony sprawled on Jillian's bed, still unconscious from his drunken stupor. Only that wasn't what had frightened Curtis. It even frightened me. Tony had put on that nightgown he had brought to me and the room reeked of jasmine. Who knew what delusions he had gone through, I thought, or how much more he drank to get this way. But I felt no pity for him; I felt only disgust.

  I left him snoring there and closed the door behind me.

  "He'll be all right," I told Curtis. "Just leave him alone."

  "Very good, Mrs. Stonewall," he said. "Thank you."

  I stopped just outside the front door and looked out over the grounds of Farthinggale Manor. The autumn winds were growing stronger and cooler. They shook the trees and tore the colorful leaves from their branches. The downpour of red, yellow, and brown leaves scattered in a frenzy across the long driveway and over the green lawns. It was as if Nature were bringing down a curtain of colors. Branches already stripped of their finery hung naked against clouds as silver as coins. It brought a chill to me and I embraced myself. Then I hurried on to the limo.

  Drake sat waiting, his toy fire engine in his lap. Even after we gave him new toys, that was the one he still clung to. He looked so small and lost in the big car, like a baby bird left in its nest. I put my arm around him and pulled him to me as Miles started away.

  And I never looked back.

  FOURTEEN There's No Place Like Home

  . HOME. HOME. THE WORD REPEATED IN MY HEAD AS I boarded the plane for Atlanta, little Drake's hand pressed in mine, his eyes wide and staring at the bustle of the airport. "Tell me again where we're going, Heaven," he asked as we arranged ourselves in the seats of the bkpt.

  "We're going home, Drake. Home to

  Winnerow, Where I grew up. Where your daddy grew up. And now you'll grow up there, too," I said, putting a cheerful tone in my voice and excitement in my eyes. "And you'll be happy there, so happy!"

  "But Heaven, I thought I was going to live in that castle! I liked it there." His voice was

  disappointed.

  "I promise you'll like it even better in

  Winnerow, Drake. Why, we can go visit the house your daddy lived in. And there's lots of hills and forests to play in called the Willies, and there's fiddlers and a wonderful school and playgrounds and lots of children to play with, Oh, Drake, it's a wonderful place for a boy to grow up. I promise."

  Soon we were again in the clouds and Drake was immediately asleep, giving my agitated mind time to play and replay what had happened the night before, and with it the circle of betrayals that was like a noose, growing tighter and tighter around my life until it seemed it would choke me. But I was determined to free myself from Tony's hold once and for all. For now it was completely, irrevocably clear to me. It was at Tony's door that all my troubles could be laid, from the very beginning of my life.

  Logan's bright cheerful face greeted us at the airport gate. He picked up the sleepy Drake and kissed his cheeks, then looked at me with a million questions in his eyes. "When we get home, Logan, tell you everything. Not now. Okay?"

  He nodded his assent, and the long trip to Winnerow was made in silence. I could almost hear the gears and wheels turning in Logan's mind, like the complicated mechanics of an intricate Tatterton toy.

  Although Drake was a little tired from our fast and furious journey, he sat up alertly and took in the scenery as we entered Winnerow. On the telephone lines starlings sat like miniature dark soldiers, puffy, sleeping birds, eyes closed, anticipating the coming cold and waiting for the warming sun. Some of them opened their eyes and peered down at us as we drove down Main Street.

  "I remember this street," Drake cried, pressing his face to the window, "Pa's circus was here!"

  "You're a bright little boy, Drake," I said, hugging him to me. "You couldn't have been more than four years old."

  "I was just a baby then. '" ut Tom said--" Drake suddenly climbed out of my arms and stared wildly through the window. "Is Tom going to be here? Is he? Is he?"

  "My poor darling boy," I said, tears filling my eyes, "Tom's with your ma and pa in Heaven, Drake."

  Then I quickly pointed out some of the sights of Winnerow. I wanted Drake to start looking into the future, which I hoped beyond hope would only be bright and cheerful for him, rather than his dark and tragic past. Winnerow had only one main street, and all the others branched off that. In the middle of the town was the school, backed up by the blue, smoky mountains.

  "That's going to be your school," I said, pointing to the playground. "I used to be a teacher there."

  "Are you going to be my teacher? I've never gone to school," Drake whispered, his eyes wide with excitement and fear.

  "No, honey, but you'll have a wonderful teacher. I think you're going to like it very much," I said. "And see that big mountain?"

  Drake nodded.

  "Your daddy came from there, Drake," I said, pointing to our mountain. "You can see it clearly from the front of our new house," I told him. He stared at it, his eyes intense as though he had been waiting to see that mountain all his short life.

  "Did Daddy go to my school?"

  "Daddy went there, and Logan and I did, too, honey."

  "We might be able to get him in this year, even though he's not quite of age," Logan said. It was the first thing he had said for a long while. "Sometimes they make allowances when you know somebody or when a kid is bright," he added. He looked at me, but I didn't respond. A deep furrow ran across his forehead, a sign lately that Logan was in deep thought. I knew he desperately wanted to find out why I had fled Farthinggale. I hadn't been able to tell him anything about what had happened between Tony and me, because Drake was alert and listening to every word I said. I indicated that I didn't want to speak in front of my little stepbrother.

  "Little rabbits have big ears, too," I said. It was something Granny used to say.

  Logan, obviously frustrated and impatient to hear all my news, was valiantly trying to make both Drake and me feel comfortable by giving us all the news of Winnerow and the Hasbrouck House. I knew he could tell how upset I was. How sweet and touching he was, trying so hard to raise my spirits.

  "I'm afraid I haven't even hired all our servants yet," he warned.

  "I think I can get along for a few days without an army of servants, Logan," I said.

  "I know that. But it's a big house. It needs looking after, especially now that we already have a child living there."

  "We'll do just fine," I said. "Tomorrow we'll start looking for a maid."

  "And a cook. I think we'll need a cook," he said. "Not that you can't cook. It's just that--"

  "You think we should have one. I know," I said, lowering my voice with exaggeration. "All factory owners have their own cooks." Even he had to laugh at himself.

  "I hired a gardener, the gardener Anthony Hasbrouck had," he said quickly. "Just kept him on. There was a butler, but he's long gone. If you want, I'll have the maid that Anthony Hasbrouck had stop by and you can interview her."

  "Good. I'm sure if Anthony Hasbrouck was satisfied, be," I said. He nodded and then smiled.

  "I have a surprise for you. I wanted to keep it a secret a few more days, but since things have taken a strange turn," he said, "for reasons I'll soon discover, I'll tell you now."

  "What?" I sat forward. We were almost to the Hasbrouck House. Even though we now owned it, it would always remain the "Hasbrouck House" in my mind.

  "The factory will be ready for the opening ceremonies in a month."

  "Really? That's wonderful, Logan. I can't wait to see the production of toys from the Willies."

  "I'm planning a gala affair. I had discussed it with Tony--" My heart leapt into my throat at the mere mention of his name. "Some of the
arrangements are already under way. Anyone who's anyone within a hundred miles of this place will be there."

  "I see," I said. Although I wanted to be happy for Logan, there was only one thing I really wanted to know. "Is Tony coming down for the party?" I asked, trying to keep the quaver from my voice.

  "I know he was planning to. Do you think that will change now, Heaven?" I couldn't help but hear the concern in his.voice.

  "We'll discuss that at home, Logan," I said. Then I cuddled Drake in my arms, and for his benefit I added, "I'm just too tired to talk about it now."

  "Of course, darling," Logan said, stealing a glance at me when we stopped for a streetlight. "But I hope you aren't too tired to hear all my plans for the party. It'll be a black tie affair, even though we're holding it outside. I've hired a twelve-piece orchestra to play, and the best caterer in Atlanta. Oh, it will be as elegant as anything ever given at Farthy, Heaven, I'm going to do you proud!"

  Even the name Farthy made me shudder. "Logan, if you want to do me proud, let's have a real Willies party. A hoedown to beat all hoedowns. A party where the artisans who'll be making the toys will feel comfortable. This is not Farthy, and we are not Tattertons.

  I don't even want that name to be on our factory. I want this to be pure Willies, the Willies Toy Factory."

  "But Heaven ." Logan looked like he'd just been hit in the stomach. "We can't make these unilateral decisions. Whatever problems you had with Tony, we're still partners with him and it's his money that's paying for all this."

  My voice was hard as stone, cold as ice, "Believe me, Logan, Tony will go along with whatever I want."

  Logan drove on silently. I sat and hardened my resolve. The mood was so thick in the car, I felt suffocated, longing to be home, longing to have all this over with once and for all.

  Soon the Hasbrouck House loomed at the end of the block. "There she is," Logan said, turning to Drake, putting false cheer in his voice. "Your new home, Drake." We pulled in and up the long driveway that led to the great colonial house. The branches of tall and full weeping willow trees hung over the driveway, creating a tunnel of green.