Fallen Hearts

  The dinner went well, but after they left, I was once again besieged by memories of my own family. My mind played and replayed the scene with Tony. I still didn't know whether or not Tony would show up at the factory celebration, and I felt like a bird trapped in a cage with a cat lurking outside the window.

  I decided to calm my nerves by throwing myself into the preparations for the affair, to be so busy that I didn't have time to dwell on unpleasant memories. I helped put together a real Willies shindig. The menu would be fried chicken, collards, corn bread, and black-eyed peas. I hired Willies women, famous around the hills for their recipes passed on for six or seven generations. I bought cherry and rhubarb pies, apple and sweet potato, baked in backwoods ovens. I hired the Longchamps, the fiddlin' band that had played at our wedding, and some of the local high school boys and girls to act as waiters and waitresses. The only professionals I hired were bartenders from the local taverns; they'd promised to mix me a moonshine punch that would, as one old-timer promised me, "start even the wooden toys to dancin'." We were holding the party on the wide lawn in front of the factory. I called the florist and told her we wanted only local wildflower arrangements. Every night Logan and I chatted on into the late hours, talking about the factory, the employees, and the arrangements for the party. Every once in a while I'd jump up from bed and write down another thing we had forgotten to do. We were like two children planning our first party.

  We had a wonderful fall day for it. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and there was barely a breeze. I had ordered from one of the local seamstresses a traditional Willies gingham dress, complete with lace and rickrack. She had to make it special to accommodate my growing belly. I wore my black hair in braids tied up in ribbons, just the way I had when I was a child of the Willies. This was the day the Willies would be celebrated. This was the day the hill people would be the important people in town. My pregnancy was beginning to show; when I looked at myself in the mirror, I thought even my face looked fuller. I remembered how bloated Sara, Pa's second wife, looked when she was pregnant. Every day her body, and especially her face, seemed to inflate a little more. I even had the funny idea that the baby within her was blowing air and she was filling up like a bicycle tire. I remember how Tom had laughed when I told him.

  I brushed on a little rouge and put on some lipstick.

  "How do I look?" I asked Logan. Logan chose to wear a conservative business suit, but he tied a country bow tie around his neck. He stopped tying his tie and smiled.

  "You look more beautiful than ever. The baby inside you is making you bloom like some brilliant rose."

  "Oh, Logan. You're becoming a super salesman," I said to kid him:

  He looked hurt. "I'm not being false to you, Heaven. Never will I ever be false to you. You do look beautiful." He came across the room to kiss me. He held me tightly and it felt good to be securely in his arms. "Oh, Heaven," he said, "do you remember when Tony presented us with the Rolls at the wedding party and I said I thought I was the happiest I could ever be? Well, I'm happier now.

  "We don't have Farthy; we don't have a castle and an army of servants and we're not mingling with the bluebloods, but we've got this wonderful home and the chance to build upon our own energies and imaginations, and I think that makes us richer than ever.

  "Especially," he said, holding me out at arm's length, "because we have each other and the blessing of a child to come. Let's put all the unhappiness behind us. Nothing but good things lay ahead."

  "Oh, Logan. I hope you're right," I said, nearly brought to tears by his expression of happiness and contentment. We kissed again, interrupted by Drake's entry.

  "I'm ready," he said. I had left him in his bathroom to brush his own hair. He stood in the doorway and looked in at us. He was dressed in a pair of light gray slacks, a dark gray shirt with a dark blue bow tie and a dark blue sports jacket. I never thought a little boy his age could be so proud of his clothing and how he looked.

  Drake had his hair brushed neatly back and had worked a little wave up front.

  "And so you are," Logan said. "Who is this handsome gentleman, Heaven?"

  "I don't know," I said. "There was a schoolboy here a while ago, who had dirtied himself in the playground. I think he had sand in his hair and small patches of grass growing in his ears. Could this be the same boy?" I smiled, but Drake, so serious and deepthinking a child, made his eyes smaller.

  "I'm Drake," he said. I could see the anger brighten in the corners of his mouth.

  "Of course you are, honey," I said. "Logan and I were just fooling with you. Come, we'll all go downstairs. We don't want to be late."

  Logan held out his arm to me. "Ready for your day, Heaven." His smile beckoned like a glittering diamond. Little Drake came running.

  Drake had helped us plan special ctivities for the kids--three-legged races, a bean-bag pitch, and apple bobbing. He could barely contain his excitement as we drove to the factory grounds.

  We had two bars set up at either end of the lawn and an enormous tent between them in the rear with tables and chairs. When Drake first saw it, he thought Pa's circus had arrived in Winnerow. The bandstand was draped in red, white, and blue streamers.

  Over the entrance to the factory, we had a large gold banner welcoming people to the opening of the WILLIES TOY FACTORY. It was my idea to leave off the Tatterton name.

  Folks were already dancing and drinking, laughing and talking. Suddenly, out of the hubbub of old trucks and station wagons pulling into the parking lot, a sleek black limousine with dark smoked windows glided up. My breath caught in my chest. There was only one person this could be. The door opened, and a shiny patent-leather shoe emerged, followed by an elegant, tuxedo-clad Tony Tatterton. I desperately looked around for Logan, but he was nowhere to be found. I took a deep breath to steal myself for what was to come, held mynhead high, and stepped forward to greet Tony Tatterton.

  "Mr. Tatterton," I said stiffly as I walked toward him. "We didn't think you would be able to attend." His eyes drank me in.

  "Heaven," he gasped, "your hair!"

  "Do you like it? I braided it myself. It's the height of fashion in the Willies."

  "The color," he stammered.

  "It's my real color, as you know, Mr. Tatterton."

  For a moment he couldn't take his eyes off of my hair, as though he were staring not into a black head of hair but into a black abyss of lost memories. I could tell he was reading the symbolism of my gesture. I no longer wanted to be associated with the Tattertons. Everything he saw in me now was pure Winnerow Casteel. Then he slowly gathered himself together and glanced disapprovingly around. "It's quite a little shindig you and your country boy husband have put together." For a brief moment the insecure little girl in me was chastened by the judgment and scorn I read in his eyes. But I quickly chased her away, and stiffened my spine with pride and glared back at him, smiling as though I owned the world.

  "I noticed you've renamed the factory," he said after an uncomfortable silence that seemed to stretch between us for hours.

  "Logan and I decided that the name Tatterton was inappropriate for this particular factory. May I get you something to drink, Mr. Tatterton?"

  "No, I don't think I'll be staying very long. I don't exactly fit in," he said, running his hand over his silk tie, "do I? Unless of course your husband has a pair of overalls I can borrow." He smiled, and I could tell he was trying to make a joke, but I kept my heart hardened against him.

  "Please don't, Tony. Despite everything that has happened between us, Logan once loved and admired you very much. Show him a little respect."

  Tony looked down, shaking his head sadly from time to time. Then he looked once again into my eyes, his own filled with tears.

  "Please, Heaven, can't we be alone for a few minutes? I need to talk to you so badly." "

  "I shall never, ever be alone with you again," I said coldly.

  "You don't understand, Heaven. I was drunk. I was out of my mind with grief over Jilli
an's death. I was--"

  "Your bereavement took on a strange form of grieving."

  "Heaven, come back to Farthy. Logan and you and I can start over again," he said, suddenly pleading like a little boy. "I just know it could work! I just know it!"

  A tinge of pity for him enveloped me. He suddenly looked so old and gray and helpless.

  "I know we would all be happy there again," he continued. "Besides, Heaven, I think you exaggerated my behavior that night. I was only trying to embrace. I only wanted to love you like a father!"

  "Get out of here now," I said quietly but with ice in my voice. "Leave here this very minute."

  Tony looked completely defeated. "I suppose you've told Logan everything."

  "He's my husband. Of course I told him everything," I replied coldly. He nodded and his blue eyes swung to fix on the banner above the party site.

  "I'm not going to ask you to forgive me. That's something you will do on your own or you won't. I only ask that you consider my motives," he said. "In any case," he went on before I could reply, "I won't be coming back here for some time. I have a great deal to do now in Boston, so you will have sufficient time to consider everything in its proper perspective. And" -- he looked at me with his blue eyes softening for the first time since he had arrived--"time is magical. It heals all our wounds."

  "But leaves scars," I said. He nodded with obvious disappointment.

  "Good-bye Heaven. I'm sure you and Logan will do very well here," he said and pivoted quickly to walk to his limo, where Miles stood like a sentinel. I watched him get into the rear of the car. Miles closed the door, looked my way for a split second, and then got in and drove the vehicle off. I waited to watch it disappear down the road, drifting away like a memory made smaller and smaller with the passage of time until it was completely forgotten, driven out by the ticktack of a hundred thousand clocks.

  I turned and the lively sounds of fiddling, the chatter of voices, and the sounds of laughter enveloped me.

  I decided the only thing to do was to immerse myself in the party. Logan and his foreman ran tours of the factory. Samples of Willies Toys had been put out on display, puppets and carved animals we were planning to manufacture. But their wooden faces began whirling around me, the whittled animals appeared to come to life. I felt so dizzy and strange, standing among those toys, toys that I had grown up with, in gingham and braids, after all I had been through. I leaned against one of the display cases.

  Logan's mother approached me, insisting on taking me about to be introduced to the wives of influential businessmen and professionals who lived in Winnerow or its surroundings. I could barely recognize their faces, they all looked like the puppets to me.

  "Mother," I said, "I'm feeling a little dizzy."

  "You do look pale," she said. "Perhaps you should lie down for a while. I know Logan had a cot in his office. You lie down there."

  "What about Drake? Where is he?" I asked, feeling my legs almost gave way beneath me, "I promised to take him to the apple-bobbing contest, I promised--"

  "Heaven, just take a look for yourself," she said, pointing out to the lawn.

  I saw that Drake had already made friends with some of the children his age and was well occupied.

  "There are loads of children here, and you know the hill people. They all look after one another. Now, you run along and lie down. Drake's not your only child, remember?"

  .

  .

  When I awoke, darkness was falling. I was stunned that I had slept through the whole party. I wandered back outside. The crowd had thinned considerably. Only Logan, his parents, and a few diehard drinkers were left.

  "Well, look who's come back to the world," Logan called out, smiling.

  "I didn't realize I'd slept so long," I said as he put a protective arm around me.

  "Pregnant women need lots of rest," Loretta Stonewall interjected.

  "Well, did everything go well?" I asked as I surveyed the remnants of the party. The food tables were empty, the band was beginning to pack up their instruments. All the cars, save ours and the

  Stonewalls, were gone. Suddenly I realized Drake wasn't there. "Where's Drake?" I asked, the cold finger of fear beginning to travel down my spine. "Drake? I thought he was resting with you." Logan looked alarmed.

  "He told me he was going to find you about an hour ago," Loretta said worriedly. "I just assumed he was with you."

  "Drake!" I shouted.

  "Don't worry, Heaven," Logan said, but I could hear alarm fill his voice. "He's probably playing with some of the sample toys. He's probably lost in his own world."

  "Where?" I asked. "We've got to find him!"

  "We will, don't worry," Logan said.

  We split up and began wandering all over the factory and grounds, calling Drake's name.

  "Drake! Drake!" I shouted.

  The yellow light above the factory gate was lit, casting an eerie glow over the parking lot. On a small patch of lawn we'd set up a swing set for some of the children. I ran toward it. Drake was nowhere in sight, but one of the swings was still going back and forth, back and forth, as if a ghost sat on it. I looked into the darkness for a moment.

  Behind the factory there were acres and acres of undeveloped forest.

  "Drake!" I called loudly. "Drake, where are you?"

  The only sound was the distant metallic cry of a train threading its way through the darkness in the distance. I waited a moment and then called again.

  Intense panic began to set in, rattling my bones. My legs felt as though they were ready to crack with fear.

  "Drake!"

  There was something about the silence and the darkness that told me he hadn't just wandered off exploring, as boys his age were wont to do. My screams finally brought Logan to my side.

  "You haven't found him? You haven't found him?" I cried.

  "No, no," he said. "My parents are still out searching. I'm going to call the police. But it's only a precaution. I'm sure, Heaven, I'm sure he'll turn up any minute."

  I knew, by the tone of Logan's voice, he was as frightened as I was.

  "Call them," I said. "I'll keep looking."

  "Drake!" I screamed again.

  "Please, you'll get a cold out here.I'll get some of the men to look. Come back to my office and we'll wait for the police."

  "I'm staying right here, Logan Stonewall. I'm going to look for Drake."

  "Heaven, it's too dark. You can't see anything. Please."

  "I'll stand under the gate light so that Drake can find me. Just hurry and call the police," I said.

  Logan ran back to the' ol ice. I stared out into the night, the black line of trees, the tiny sliver of a moon. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted. And then, as if the hand of fate had tapped me on the shoulder, I knew where my Drake was as well as I knew my own heritage. There was only one place he could be. There was only one person who would know where he was. And I was certain of it as I was certain of my own name Fanny!

  FIFTEEN Love Held Hostage

  MY HEART WAS ENVELOPED IN A HEAVY CLOUD OF DESPAIR. I waited silently with Logan while the Winnerow Police patrol car made a quick sweep of the factory neighborhood. We had asked his parents to go wait at Hasbrouck House in case Drake turned up there, or in case anyone who found him called.

  "Maybe he went into someone's house," Jimmy Otis, one of the officers, said when he stopped the police car in front of the factory.

  I looked at Logan, who nodded thoughtfully. "You might be right, Jimmy," he said. "The boy's not afraid of people and very curious about things."

  "I'll keep cruisin' around here," Jimmy said. "Just call the station if he returns and they'll radio me."

  "Thanks, Jimmy," Logan said.

  "If he's not found in another hour or so, I'll have Mary Lou call the chief at home. We'll want to get the guest list from the party so we can see if anyone saw him go anywhere."

  "Okay," Logan said. As soon as the police drove off for another search, I told Logan
what I feared.

  "Fanny could have done something like this," I said. "We didn't invite her to the party."

  Neither Logan nor I had mentioned Fanny when we were making the guest list. His reasons were obvious, and I simply didn't want another

  confrontation with her.

  "Do you really think so?" he asked skeptically.

  "All she had to do was drive by and see him. She would stop to talk to him and talk him into getting into her car, telling him she would bring him right back. I know he's smart for his age, but he's just a little boy, Logan, and he knows Fanny is his sister."

  "I suppose she could have done that," Logan said thoughtfully. I looked up at the half moon half hidden by dark clouds, an omen of something terrible, I thought.

  "I'm going up to her house," I said and started quickly toward the car.

  -Shouldn't I go along?" he asked softly.

  "No. You had better remain here just in case Jimmy Otis is right and Drake wandered into someone's home. be right back," I said. Logan stayed on at the factory and I got into the car and drove to Fanny's.

  As soon as I pulled up, those mangy watchdogs of hers came charging out, circling the car and barking as madly as hound dogs that had a fox trapped in a hole. Fanny's house was brightly lit and I could see she had a visitor. There was another car there. My anger and my concern for Drake overwhelmed my fear of the dogs.

  I slammed my car door shut and stood straight as the dogs came around to snap at me, but I didn't retreat an inch and they kept their distance, barking a little more hysterically as I made my way to the front door of Fanny's home. When I pressed the buzzer, the dogs barked louder, but remained a few feet behind me. I had to press the buzzer again before Fanny opened the door. She stood there with her arms crossed under her breasts like Granny, her face screwed tightly, her lips pressed together in a tight line, and her blue eyes flashing.

  "What'dya want, yer highness?" she asked without backing up a step to let me in. The dogs continued their yapping.