"That's right, dear;" she said. "I'm working on when we can take you along with us on a trip and when you can come stay with us. We would take you to Maine with us tomorrow, but . ."
"I don't want to go with you to Maine," I snapped. "Now Leigh . ." Daddy raised his eyebrows.
"I don't care."
"But you should care," Daddy said. "If you want to be considered a young lady, you have to show some courtesy," he chastised. Mildred stared at me, her eyes cold. I looked down at my menu. My chest felt so heavy. It was as though it were filling up with the tears that had built behind my eyes.
"Now then," my father said, "what would you like to eat? Leigh?"
"You should think about the London broil," Mildred said.
"I hate London broil," I blurted, "and I hate being here, and I hate you."
I couldn't help it. It all just rushed out over my tongue, and once the words had escaped, there was no turning back. I got up from the table and ran from the dining room, ran through the hotel lobby and out the front door. Miles was asleep in the front seat of the limousine. I woke him when I banged on the window. He sat up quickly, shocked by the tears streaming down my face.
"What is it? What's wrong?"
"Take me back to Farthy," I said getting in. "I want to go back."
"But . ."
"Please, take me home."
He started the engine. I looked out the side window and saw Daddy on the front steps looking for me. He didn't see the limousine until Miles backed out of the parking spot. Then he charged down the steps.
"Leigh!" he called. Miles began to slow down.
"Just drive, Miles," I commanded in my mother's sharp tone of voice. He obeyed and the car surged forward away from the hotel. I looked back once and saw my father standing in the center of the parking lot, his hands on his hips. Coming up behind him was his precious new wife. I turned away and cried so hard my ribs ached. By the time we arrived at Farthy, I was feeling drained and exhausted.
I ran up the steps and into the house, not pausing a second before rushing up the stairs to my suite. Once there, I threw myself on my bed. I didn't think I had a single tear left but I cried again, cried a waterfall of tears until I cried myself to sleep. I felt myself being shaken and awoke to find Troy at my side. He was dressed in his little sailor's outfit. I sat up and wiped my eyes. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and saw that my cheeks were tear streaked.
"Didn't you have a good time with your daddy?" Troy asked.
"Oh Troy." I moaned and embraced him to me.
"What's wrong, Leigh?" He looked up at me with his eyes big, inquisitive and concerned. "Why were you crying?"
"My daddy's not the same, Troy. He has a new wife." Troy fluttered his eyelashes. I could almost hear his thoughts.
"You have another Mommy?"
"No. She's not my mommy; NEVER, NEVER, NEVER!"
He stared at me. He had no mother and no father. It was not hard to understand why he was confused by my anger. I was sure he wished he had the chance to have a new mother and father and here I was throwing a new mother back as if she were a fish too small.
"My daddy doesn't love me as much as he did before," I explained. "His new wife has her own family and he has new children, too."
Troy's eyes brightened with some
understanding. He nodded.
"You want to come play with my electric train?" he asked, hoping to cheer me up. I smiled and kissed him. Oddly enough, I was suddenly very hungry. My emotional turmoil had drained me, but now my stomach churned. I had been too nervous at breakfast to eat much, and of course, I ran out of the restaurant before a thing was served.
"I'll just go down to the kitchen and ask Rye to make me something for lunch," I told him. "Then come play with you."
"I'll come with you," he offered. He waited while I washed my face, scrubbing away the lines drawn by tears and pain. I ran the brush through my hair, took his hand, and started out just as my telephone rang. It was my father.
"Leigh, please don't hang up," he said quickly, anticipating my first thought. "Will you listen to me?" he asked when I didn't reply.
"Yes, I'll listen, Daddy."
"I'm sorry, sorry that I didn't come to see you as soon as I had returned and sorry that I broke the news of my new marriage the way I did at lunch. It was insensitive of me and I apologize. Mildred is very upset about everything. She wanted so much to get you to like her. Really, she did. You believe that, don't you?" he asked.
"Yes, Daddy," I said dryly.
"Mildred says all that's happened to you this last year is a considerable emotional burden on top of the normal emotional burden teenagers carry these days. She's very wise when it comes to these things, you see. She has a daughter of her own, as well as a son. I hope you will meet them someday soon."
When I didn't reply, he continued.
"I'd ask you to come with us to Maine, but . . ."
"I can't go to Maine, Daddy. I'm modeling for a new Tatterton toy, a portrait doll," I said, "and I'm very busy with it."
"Oh?"
"I would have told you all about it if we had been alone," I snapped.
"You could have spoken about it at lunch. Mildred is my wife now and she wants to be a mother to you."
"I have a mother."
"Well, at least a good friend, then. So, you're modeling. Sounds exciting. Are you enjoying it?"
I hesitated. Should I blurt it all out over the phone, make him feel terrible for not meeting me privately? Would he come to Farthy immediately, come charging into the house and demand an audience with Tony and my mother, and then bawl them out and take me away with him?
But I would have to go off with him and his new wife and her children, his new family. Would I like that?
"Yes, Daddy," I said. "I'm enjoying it. It's going to make me very famous," I said petulantly. He was silent a long moment.
"Well, I'm happy for you, Leigh. Would you like to try again, meet us for dinner tonight, perhaps?"
"No, Daddy. I can't tonight. I have to go to sleep early because I have an early morning session and I have to be fresh and wide awake all over," I said. I thought he might ask why I said "all over," but he didn't.
"Perhaps when we return from Maine then," he said. "Perhaps."
"Leigh, please believe me when I tell you I love you." "I believe you, Daddy," I replied quickly.
"You'll always be my little princess, no matter what," he added in the voice that brought back a hundred memories. How I wanted him near me now, to hug me and kiss me just the way he often did when he returned home from a cruise or business trip. But all he was, was a tiny, faraway voice on a phone.
"Bye, Leigh. We'll call you when we come back."
"Bye, Daddy." I lowered the receiver slowly. My body began to shake with dry sobs. Troy came running to me and embraced me.
"Don't cry, Leigh. Please, don't cry."
"I won't, Troy." I held my breath a moment and then smiled. "I'm all right. Come," I said, "let's go see what Rye Whiskey can fix for me."
I took his hand again and we went out.
Later that afternoon, my mother came to Troy's suite looking for me, curious about my day with my father. She was surprised to hear that he had remarried and wanted to know all about his new wife. I didn't tell her I had run out on them.
"She's tall and thin and her nose is long and bony," I said. She smiled at that. "She has a poor complexion, pockmarks on her forehead, and her hair looks like she rarely washes it. It's dull and full of gray streaks."
"I'll never let my hair turn gray," Momma said quickly. "It's so unnecessary for a woman to go through that."
"She has no figure," I continued, enjoying the way I ran down my father's new wife, "but Daddy likes her because she is an accountant and she is very efficient."
"Just the kind of woman he would like. You must have had a dreadful time, poor thing."
"And she has her own family with grown-up children!" I exclaimed.
"Really? Extraordinary! What happened to her first husband?" she asked. I didn't know what to say.
"They didn't tell me that."
She nodded in understanding.
"Are you going to see them again soon?" she asked. "No. They're off to see her family and then they're going on a combined business trip and honeymoon."
My mother burst out laughing. Even Troy, who had been sitting quietly by his trains and listening to me, looked up with a confused but wide smile on his face.
"Isn't that just like him? He'll make his own honeymoon into a tax deduction." She started out of Troy's suite and turned. "Oh, did you tell him about your modeling for the portrait doll?"
She had tried to ask the question nonchalantly, but from the way her body had tensed, I suddenly realized she had more than a passing curiosity in my answer.
"Yes." I refused to elaborate. If she so badly wanted to know what I had told Daddy, then let her ask! I wasn't going to make things any easier--she hadn't for me.
She studied me for a moment. Was it my imagination or had her eyes suddenly filled with apprehension? I studied her eyes more closely. Yes, there was definitely apprehension . . . and fear! I watched her swallow over the lump in her throat and she could barely get her next words out: "What did he say?"
I gave her a pointed stare. "He thought it was wonderful. What else would he say?"
Relief washed over her beautiful features. She knew I hadn't told Daddy the truth. "You're a very wise and intelligent young lady for your age, Leigh. I'm proud of you. Oh, Tony and I are going out for dinner. We've been invited to the Ambersons'. You know who Mr. Amberson is, don't you?" She didn't wait for me to answer. "He's a multimillionaire who owns tons of paper mills. He's got oodles of money and can have anything his heart desires. Anything!"
Was that all she cared about? Money? Possessions? Had her love for luxury and wealth overpowered her love for me? I wondered more and more with each passing day.
"By the way," she continued as she breezed out of Troy's suite, "Tony told me to tell you he'll need you for just a little while tomorrow morning and then he's finished with his work here. Isn't that exciting?"
Before I could answer she was gone, heading to her suite to bathe and dress for dinner.
I slammed the door of the suite in anger. Troy looked at me with scared eyes. How I wanted to scream at Momma! Once again she had told me what to do without thought or consideration of my feelings.
With each passing day the web Momma had ensnared me in was becoming tighter and tighter. Where would it all end? I fearfully wondered.
Tony wasn't at breakfast the following morning. Momma explained that he had risen early and had already gone to the cottage to work. I was to follow as soon as I was finished with my own breakfast. I ate slowly, while she described their dinner at the Ambersons'. After a while I stopped listening and her voice droned on over my thoughts. I was feeling much more nervous about this final session with Tony than I had felt about all the others. Maybe it was just a result of all the dramatic and terribly emotional things that had been happening to me.
Finally, I left the table, went up to my suite and made some final touches on my hair, and then started out for the cottage. It was a bright morning, warmer than most. The ocean breezes were very slight and the clouds seemed pasted to the aqua sky. Even the birds which were usually quite active and noisy were placid. They stared down at me with jeweled eyes in anticipation. I heard the whir of lawn mowers on the far corners of the grounds and caught the cry of a tern, but other than that, the world seemed like a gigantic painting on a gigantic canvas.
All this made the stillness and isolation of the maze even more intense. The shadows were darker, deeper and longer. Cool spots were cooler and the scent of the freshly cut hedges was pungent. Instead of feeling as if I were moving through tunnels though, I felt as if I were dropping deeper and deeper into a world of mystery. I looked back once and saw the roof of Farthy just before it disappeared behind a tail hedge. For no reason I could figure out I panicked and ran the rest of the way, bursting out by the cottage. I stopped and caught my breath. Then, feeling foolish, I wiped my face with my handkerchief, brushed back my hair, corrected my posture and went to the cottage.
Tony was hovering over the clay model, his hands over it as if he were about to seize it and press it to him. He looked up sharply when I entered and straightened quickly.
"I couldn't wait for you this morning," he said. "I was that eager to finish up. Just sit there," he said pointing to the couch. "All I want to do this morning is make some final touches on the doll's face. So," he said as I took my seat and faced him, "you went to see your father yesterday." He began working with a tiny tool.
"Yes."
"But all didn't go well?" he asked. I shifted my eyes to him quickly. He saw I was wondering how he knew that. "Miles told me," he added softly.
"I didn't say anything to your mother though." He winked. "I gather, from what you told her, that neither did you."
"I didn't want to upset her."
"Yes. So what happened to upset you? Just turn a little to the right. A little more. Fine."
"My father remarried," I said.
"And you didn't know about it until then?"
"That's right."
He shook his head.
"Men can be such fools." He smiled. "Didn't get along with the new woman?"
"I was too upset about things. I suppose I was unfair," I added. I had been thinking that I should have given my father and his wife another chance by going to dinner with them. Now he was off to Maine and I couldn't do anything about it.
"I can't imagine you being unfair to anyone, Leigh. There's no one sweeter or more considerate. I see the way you are with Troy," he said smiling. I didn't say anything. "I know I'm a poor substitute," he continued, "but I wish you would think of me as you would a father. I know you think me too young, but I have a great deal of experience. My wealth and responsibilities have aged me far beyond my years." He smiled again, shifted his position, studied me, worked and then stopped and studied me some more.
"Anyway," he said after a while, "if you ever have any problems you can't discuss with your mother, I wish you would come to me."
"Thank you, Tony," I said.
"I'd enjoy helping you." He worked with other tools, scraping, making fine touches, studying me, working, on and on like that for well over an hour. Finally, he stood up and announced he was finished.
"That's it," he said. "Your job's over. Now I've got to get this cast. I think I'll turn the actual painting over to one of my best artists."
I was finished? No more nude modeling? What an easy final day, but I realized I hadn't seen the finished sculpture. "Can I see it now?"
"Of course," he said stepping back. He gestured toward the clay figure. I got up slowly and walked around to face it. The moment I looked at it, my face turned beet red and I gasped. My head was reeling. I felt hot all over, then cold. My face was perfect but he had sculpted every detail and every part of my body with such exaggeration, it looked pornographic. Everyone could see this . . . boys . . . everyone.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes narrowing to tiny blue slits.
"Tony, you can't show everyone this. It's embarrassing. Dolls don't have . . . have . . ."
"Genitals? No, dolls don't, but a portrait doll is a work of art, I told you."
"NO!" I cried. "I can't let you put my face on this. I can't," I said.
"But it will be only your doll. No one else will have this one. They'll want their own."
"But they'll be looking at this one to see what theirs will be like."
"It will be dressed when they look at it."
"But then why did you do this?"
He looked at me and then at the doll as if the answer were on the doll's lips. Then he reached out and caressed the clay figure. As he did so his eyes became dreamy and faraway as I had seen happen before.
"Because . . . as I said . . it's a work of art."
br /> "No, I won't let you put my picture beside it. I won't!" insisted. He stared at me a moment. Then his eyes turned cold, even colder than before. They lost their faraway look and focused hard on me.
"All right," he said angrily. "I'll change it. You're finished now. You can go," he snapped.
I walked to the door. When I looked back, I saw he was standing there staring down at the doll, his face as hard and as still as a sculpted one. I left the cottage and hurried on through the maze. Before I was halfway through, I began to run the rest of the way, fleeing the image of myself naked and exposed for everyone to see.
Fifteen ANGEL
. A lthough I had looked forward so much to my summer vacation, I was happy when it drew to a close and I would return to Winterhaven. I missed Jennifer. I had told her about the portrait doll, but I hadn't told her about my nude posing. And I never got to visit her. After I finished my work for the doll, Momma found one reason or another why I shouldn't leave. I asked her again, weeks before I was to return to school, but she said I would see my friends soon enough. A few days later she decided she wanted to take me to New York City to shop for new clothing for school and new clothing for herself as well. It was a whirlwind trip because almost as soon as we arrived, she decided it was too hot to stay. After only one night in New York and shopping in just two
department stores, we returned to Farthy.
Throughout most of August Tony did a great deal of traveling, establishing new markets across the country for his toys and especially for portrait dolls. I had yet to see the finished product. He had done as he said and turned the fine artwork over to one of his better artisans, a man he had imported from Europe, a man who had worked on these dolls there. Tony told my mother and me that he didn't want us to see it until it was completely done, down to the last eyelash.
The changing weather caused Troy to develop a new allergy. It got so bad that for one week at the end of August, he had to be in the hospital. The doctors did dozens of tests on him, trying to find the best antidotes for his problems. I had Miles take me to visit him every day, but Momma never went once. She always seemed to have something else to do, someplace to go, people to see.