"Very well, what is it now?" She batted her eyelashes and looked at the ceiling, barely tolerating me. "Whenever I'm in the middle of something important, you have some sort of emotional crisis. I don't know what's wrong with teenage girls today. aybe you're eating too much sugar," she concluded.
"MOMMA, WILL YOU LISTEN TO ME?" I felt like running over to her and taking hold of the strands of her precious hair, forcing her to see me, to hear me.
"Stop shouting. You have my attention. Only please be considerate enough to make it fast."
I swallowed back the lumps in my throat and took a deep breath.
"When I first told you what Tony had done, you didn't believe me. You wouldn't believe me!" I said. I couldn't help the way ray voice rose and my eyes widened. The more I talked, the angrier I became myself. Momma's expression of annoyance and impatience fanned the hot coals of my anger, turning theminto small flames. "I kept trying to explain, to get you to understand that it wasn't any teenage fantasy, but you wouldn't listen."
"And I still don't want to listen to this. I told you,. . .
"MOMMA!" I screamed. "I'M PREGNANT!"
When the words came out of my mouth, they surprised me, but there they were. We were both silent, startled by the truth. There would be a baby. Tony's evil act would have consequences and now God would make us all pay for one madman's lust.
Momma simply stared at me a moment and then a tight, small smile appeared on her face. How I wanted to wipe it off. She sat back in her chair, folding her hands on her lap.
"What did you say?"
The tears were streaking down my cheeks and this time I was helpless, could not swallow them back.
"My period is long overdue and for the past few days, I've been having morning sickness. He made me pregnant." She didn't speak; she looked at me as if I had just spoken in some foreign language and she was waiting for me to translate. "Don't you understand what I'm saying, Momma? Everything I had told you was true, and now I'm going to have a baby, Tony's baby!" I cried, driving the reality home as firmly as I could.
"Are you sure? Absolutely positive about the dates?"
"Yes. You know I always keep good track of that," I replied firmly. There was no point in pretending what was happening was not. I would not do as my mother did: I would not live in a world of illusions just to keep myself happy.
She shook her head, her eyes turning small and hateful. "It's your own fault, you little fool," she hissed vehemently.
"What?" I couldn't believe my ears.
She sat back nodding, confirming her own thoughts.
"You flaunted yourself about, tempting him, tormenting him with your young, blossoming body. And now, you have the result, the horrible,
embarrassing, terrible result."
"I didn't flaunt myself about, Momma. You know . . ."
"Yes, I know. Don't you think Tony came to me continually, complaining about how you batted your eyelashes at him. And then, while I was away, you invited him into your suite. What did you expect him to do with you lying there naked, tempting, inviting, demanding he make love to you or you would . . . would make up stories about him?"
"What? Did he tell you such a lie? How can you believe that story?" I demanded.
"And now look what you have done," she said not listening to me. She resembled an actress who had been rehearsing and rehearsing these lines and refused to do anything but recite them. "What if this gets out? Just think what it will do to me, what my friends will think. Why, we'll never be invited to a single dinner. We'll be ostracized from society . . . and all because my daughter is a promiscuous, sex-driven, selfish, inconsiderate . . . jealous. Yes, that's what you are," she said, obviously very satisfied with her
explanation, "and that's what you've been. You're jealous of me, of my looks and the fact that I married such a young and handsome man, instead of remaining chained to your father, an old man who didn't deserve me."
"That's not true!"
"Of course, it's true. He told me how you behaved in the cottage, how you tried to seduce him during the modeling sessions."
"Lies, these are all lies!" I cried. Why was she doing this? What had happened to our motherdaughter relationship? "I didn't want to be the model. Don't you remember? You made me do it. And afterward, when I came to you . ."
"Yes, you came to me to try to get me to dislike Tony. You tried to make me jealous. That's what you were doing," she concluded, her eyes lighting up. "You thought that by making up these stories about his touching you . ."
"He did, Momma! Those weren't stories!!"
"He did, but not the way you wanted me to think he did. And when all that didn't work, you enticed him into your bedroom and when he resisted, you spit the truth about my age at him, trying to drive a wedge between him and me!" I saw she would never forgive me that. She would never believe that Tony had already known.
"Finally, because he is only a man, he succumbed, and now, look at what you've done, what you've accomplished. Well, I hope you're proud of yourself, little princess!" she hissed. Never had she looked as ugly to me.
"Momma, none of this is true. You can't seriously believe it."
"And after I tried so hard to bring you up right, to understand how women and men should be with each other, how a woman has to hold on to her virtue to win the respect and admiration of men. I TOLD YOU," she screamed, "GOOD GIRLS DON'T GO ALL THE WAY!"
Her scream vibrated through me, shattering whatever feelings of love and respect for her remained. They broke, splintered and disintegrated like a plate of bone-thin china, the parts falling through my memory-- fragments of loving
conversations between us, slices of images, pictures of happier times, the broken sounds of tinkling bells and music from precious music boxes, unfinished laughter, half smiles, little kisses on my cheeks and forehead, our hands parting.
I couldn't stand it any longer. I wasn't the jealous one; she was. I wasn't the one who had been promiscuous; she was. I wasn't the one who lied and betrayed. I wasn't selfish and blind to anything that didn't please me; she was. And now, to keep her little world the way she wanted it, she was painting me as evil. I was to be the guilty person, even though I was the one who had been violated.
"YOU LIAR!" I screamed back at her. "You hypocrite, sitting there and condemning me for being promiscuous and going all the way. I know the truth about you. I overheard Grandma Jana talking to you just before you married Tony and I know Daddy isn't my real father, that you slept with another man and got pregnant and married Daddy without telling him the truth so he would think I was his child. I knew, but I kept it a secret buried in my heart of hearts, even though it burned and hurt."
"Why that's . . ." She sat back, a dazed look on her face.
"That's true," I said. "All true. But your mother helped you find a husband, a man who would love and respect you."
"This is ridiculous," she said emerging from her daze and looking about as if we had witnesses to convince. "What sort of story do you want to spread now? Is this another way to try to get Tony away from me?"
"STOP IT! STOP LYING!"
"How dare you shout at me like this! I'm your mother."
"No, you're not," I said, shaking my head and backing away from her. "No, you're not. I have no mother and I have no father." I allowed myself to be just as ugly with my words as she had been with hers. "You thought you could have it all, didn't you? Only the finest!" I spat out. "A handsome young husband, a luxurious estate, a designer wardrobe and a
SPECIALLY SELECTED MISTRESS FOR YOUR OWN HUSBAND!" I lowered my voice to a purr the way Momma had done on countless occasions. "Tell me, Momma, when did you first get the idea? On your honeymoon? When you returned to Farthy?" My questions became frenzied and I didn't allow Momma to answer as she had done with me so many times. "When did you realize that your beauty wouldn't last forever and would start FADING!" I laughed in her face. "That's right, fading! With each passing day you grow older and older, Momma. But you've always known tha
t, deep in your heart of hearts. I CAN'T STAND YOU ANYMORE! You don't care about anything but yourself and your precious face. Well let me tell you something, Jillian Tatterton, the game is OVER! You're going to be a grandmother! Does that make you feel young? No matter how young you look, you'll never escape the fact that you're a GRANDMOTHER and the only person you have to blame is YOURSELF!" I turned and ran from her suite, ran from her lies and hypocritical eyes, ran from a woman I no longer recognized or loved. I slammed the door of my room behind me, but I didn't cry. I wouldn't cry again in this evil place. I hated this place, hated what happened here, hated what it had turned me into. All I knew was I had to get away, get away from its sins, lies and false smiles.
I threw open my closet door and grabbed a suitcase. Without planting what I would take, I grabbed something here, something there, throwing the gal nients into the suitcase roughly. I didn't care about my beautiful clothes or my precious jewelry; I didn't care about pictures or mementos. I just wanted to get away as quickly as I could.
I closed my suitcase and started out, but I paused at the door and turned as if someone had called out to me. Angel stared at me across the room. She looked as sad and as lost as I did, How could I leave her behind? I scooped her into my arms and charged out of my suite with my suitcase swinging in my hand. My mother hadn't come after me and she wasn't in the corridor. I hurried to the stairway.
It was only when I reached the bottom of the staircase that I stopped to question what I was doing, where I was going. I couldn't just walk out of Farthy. I was miles and miles from anywhere.
Grandma Jana, I thought. I would go to her. She would understand. She knew who and what Momma really was.
I would tell her all that had happened. She would be sympathetic. I had to go south and make my way to her home, but that took money. I looked in my pocketbook for my wallet and found I had barely twenty dollars, not enough to finance a trip to Texas. I recalled where Tony kept some money in his office and went in to get it. Why not? I thought. If anyone should pay, it should be Tony.
There was nearly two hundred dollars in a desk drawer. Hardly a fortune, but enough to get me on the road. I stuffed the money into my purse, straightened up and gazed into a mirror. I brushed back my hair, wiped my cheeks with a handkerchief, and took a deep breath. I didn't want to look as desperate as I felt. I intended to go out and casually ask Miles to drive me into Boston. If he thought something was wrong, he might go back into the house to ask my mother first.
I left the office, closing the door quietly behind me. The house was quiet. I gazed up the stairway at the second floor, and saw no one. My mother probably had gone right back to getting ready for her party. After all, nothing came before her looks and she had her wealthy friends coming, people she had to impress. Curtis emerged from the music room and paused to look my way, an expression of curiosity on his face because he saw me standing with a suitcase. I smiled, trying to make everything look casual, and he nodded and went on to the kitchen.
Then I stepped out the front door. The bright sunlight made me squint, so I shaded my eyes with my hand. It was very warm and there were big, high clouds scattered across the deep blue sky. A slight, soft breeze caressed my face. The world welcomed me, encouraged me to come out of the dark, enchanted kingdom called Farthinggale. When I arrived here I thought it was like a storybook. Now I knew the truth: that it was a nightmare come to life!
Luckily for me, Miles was in front polishing the car. I didn't have to go looking for him and attract the attention of the grounds people. He looked up sharply when I started toward him.
"I'm not early," I said and smiled. I looked at my watch and then held it toward him for him to see the time.
"Huh?" He put his polishing rag down and looked at me with a puzzled expression. "I'm supposed to take you somewhere this afternoon?"
"To the train station, Miles. Don't tell me my mother forgot to tell you this morning."
"No, she didn't. I . ."
"Just like her when she has one of her charity affairs. She gets so excited and flustered, she forgets everything else," I said. I knew he would believe that. "I'm going to visit my grandmother. Everything's been arranged. I'm afraid we will have to leave
immediately so that I will not miss my train."
"But . ." He looked up at the house.
"Miles?" I lifted my suitcase to indicate he should take it.
"Oh." He took it hurriedly and put it into the trunk of the limousine. "I can't understand why Curtis didn't remind me. He always reminds me about trips."
"Perhaps Momma didn't think to tell him either," I said. "Shall we go?"
"What? Oh, yes." He opened the door for me and I slipped in quickly. Then he got into the limousine and started the engine. I watched the front doorway, half expecting my mother to suddenly appear and start screaming, demanding to know what was happening. But she didn't emerge, and Miles started down the long, winding driveway. I gazed out the side window and suddenly saw little Troy and his nurse coming back from a walk on the beach. In my excitement and anger, I had forgotten all about him and what my leaving would mean to him.
"Oh no," I muttered. "Troy. Miles," I cried. "Please, stop for a moment. I forgot to say goodbye to Troy."
As soon as the car came to a halt, I stepped out and called and waved to Troy. He paused and came running toward me, his little pail swinging in his hand.
"Leigh. I got the biggest shell you ever saw," he cried. "Look." He stopped before me, out of breath, and put his pail down. He had a pink and white conch set on top of a variety of small shells.
"That is big."
"And you can hear the ocean's roar." He picked it up and handed it to me. "Listen."
I put it to my ear and nodded, smiling.
"Sounds like it's going to come out and get me all wet," I said, pulling it away as if I were really afraid. He laughed.
"It's not really in there." He took the shell back and placed it in his pail. Then he looked at the limousine. "Where are you going, Leigh?"
"I've got to go away for a while, Troy." I took his little hand into mine and squatted so I could look into his eyes. "You be good and try to rest and eat right while I am away, okay?"
"But when are you coming back?"
"Not for a while, Troy."
"A long while?" I nodded. "Then I want to go with you." "You can't, Troy. You've got to stay here where you can be looked after."
"But where are you going?" he asked again, his eyes already tearing.
"To see my grandmother."
"How come you never went before?" he asked, his clever little mind quickly working up skepticism.
"I was always too busy," I lied. He tilted his head slightly.
He could see I was lying, I thought, but I couldn't help it. "Aren't you really corning back, Leigh?" he asked softly. "Of course," I said. I smiled and squeezed back the fat tears that wanted to burst out.
"No, you're not," he said pulling away from me. "You're leaving me and Farthy. You're not coming back; you're not."
"I will, Troy. I promise. Somehow, someway, I'll come back to you."
"Promise?"
"Cross my heart. Come, kiss me goodbye. Please," I begged. "Otherwise, I will have a horrible trip." I grimaced, resembling someone already in great torment.
He relented and put his small arms around my neck. I kissed his cheek and held him tightly. Then he pecked mine like a tiny bird and pulled back. I stood up, smiled down at him, and headed back to the car.
"Leigh!" he called. "Wait."
I paused at the door. He reached into his pail and took out the conch.
"Take this with you," he offered.
"Oh no, Troy. You keep it here."
"No," he said shaking his head vigorously. "Take it with you and you won't forget me."
"I can't forget you, Troy. You don't have to worry about that," I said, but he stood there, stubbornly holding out the conch. I took it. "Okay, thank you."
"Put it to your ear and
you'll hear the ocean and me," he promised and turned to run back to his nurse. I watched him for a moment and then got into the car.
"Please, let's go, Miles," I said. "As fast as we can."
He smirked, still a little suspicious, and then started away. We rolled on through the main gate and under the great arch, but I didn't look back. Instead, I put Troy's conch to my ear and listened to the ocean and heard his little cry.
He was calling' after me. "Leigh . . . Leigh . ."
And then I pulled it away and closed my eyes and Farthy fell back behind me, flickering out like a dying candle.
nineteen A VISIT TO A CIRCUS
. I had never traveled anywhere all by myself, but I didn't show Miles any of my fear and indecision. Right after we arrived at the train station, he took my suitcase from the limousine trunk and waited for my instructions.
"I can take it from here, Miles," I said. "Oh no, Miss Leigh. bring it to the porter. Where are you going?"
"It's all right, Miles. I want to be on my own. I
like the idea of traveling alone," I explained and
smiled warmly so he wouldn't see my nervousness.
He hesitated a moment and then put my suitcase
down.
"Well, you have a good trip, Miss Leigh," he
said.
"Thank you, Miles." I took my suitcase quickly
and walked into the station, stopping to wave goodbye
to him once more. Would I ever see him again? He
stood there staring after me, but he didn't follow me to
be sure I was safely on my train.
I turned and looked around. People were
rushing about everywhere and announcements were being made concerning different trains and
destinations. The hustle and bustle was exciting, but also frightening as well. I saw a tall, redheaded policeman standing by a newsstand talking with the man by the cash register. He looked young and had a
friendly face, so I went directly to him.
"Excuse me," I said, "but could you tell me
where I would go to buy a ticket to Texas?"