Casteel 03 Fallen Hearts (26 page)

"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.

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.
"It's not as big as Farthy," Drake said when we came to a stop.
Logan frowned. "No, Drake. Hardly anything is, but this is still big. You'll see."
When we drove up, Mr. Appleberry, the gardener Logan had kept on, came out front to greet us and help with the luggage. He was a small but stocky man whose gray hair grew in small patches over a partially bald head that was covered with the same freckles he had scattered over his forehead and temples. He had a warm face with smiling eyes. Santa Claus eyes, I thought. If he had a beard and a full head of hair, he could play Santa. As long as the red suit was stuffed, of course.
Drake took to him and he took to Drake almost instantly.
"I'll help with all that, Mrs. Stonewall," he said. "That is, me and the young gentleman here. My name's Appleberry," he said, extending his longfingered hand, the hand of a man who worked with plants and trees and flowers. "And you are?"
Drake nearly laughed, something he hadn't done much of since I had taken him from Atlanta.
"I'm Drake," he said. Appleberry took hold of his hand and shook it vigorously.
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Drake. You want to take this one?" He handed Drake a small cloth bag and Drake seized it, holding it up against his body with both hands and looking up at me with pride in his eyes.
"Fine. Strong young man," Appleberry said, winking at me.
"Thank you, Mr. Appleberry," I said and we all headed into the house, Logan and Appleberry carting most of our luggage in. I took Drake and one of his suitcases directly to his bedroom.
"Tomorrow you'll start to explore this house, Drake," I said. "It's already getting late and you're tired from our trip. Okay?"
"Very wise move, Mr. Drake," Appleberry said, bringing in the rest of Drake's things. "A good rest makes for a good day. I'll bid you good night, but I'll be around after you've had your breakfast. We've got some leaves to rake, if you are up to it."
Drake looked at me and then at Appleberry. I could see by the look on his face that he was wondering if I would go along with his actually doing real labor. I smiled. Then he nodded quickly.
"Fine, then," Appleberry said and left. I led Drake into the bathroom and washed and dressed him for bed. I heard Logan out in the hall bringing up my luggage and some of his things I had packed and taken from Farthy.
Drake's bed was a wide double with a light oak headboard. The mattress felt hard and new and the quilts were minty fresh and crisp. From what I could see from my quick pass through the house, it had been left in immaculate condition.
After I knelt down and kissed Drake good night, I felt sorry for him, ripped out of one family and home, taken to another, and then spirited away from that one. Once again he was put to bed in strange surroundings, the toy fire engine beside him, his only tie with his immediate past.
"This is the end of your confused journey, dear, dear Drake," I whispered. "I promise you, this will be your home. It's only right that you be close to the land of your father's roots, even if you will be living a far, far better life than he or any of his relations ever did."
It occurred to me that I could take him into the Willies one day and show him his grandmother's and grandfather's graves. He would see the cabin, even if it was now a modern hunting lodge, and play on the grounds Tom and Keith had played on. Luke probably would never have brought him back here, I thought.
For all I knew, he would have made up stories about his past to hide it from his son.
I left his room and went directly to the master bedroom to tell Logan all. My heart was pounding, for there was so much I had kept from him that I would now have to explain. Shame upon shame that even he hadn't known. How I hated Tony Tatterton for putting me through this.
Logan was nervously pacing the room, and he stopped when I entered. "Well," he said, "let's hear it. All of it."
I took a deep breath and began by describing what Tony had done to keep Luke away from me, the agreement I discovered in his file cabinet and what he had said when I had confronted him with the information. Logan sat on the chair by the vanity table listening as I paced about and talked. His face was filled with concern, but he said nothing until I paused and sat on the bed.
"Well," he said, "it was wrong, a terrible thing to do. I can understand your anger, but I believe what Tony told you was the truth. I believe he was lonely and afraid of losing you. I can understand his fears."
I couldn't believe that Logan's first reaction was to feel sympathy and pity for Tony. Here I was expecting him to rise quickly from his chair and embrace me, to hold me close to him, and to comfort me for the pain I must have suffered when I learned Tony had bought off the man whose fatherly love I had so longed for. I wanted him to kiss me and stroke my hair and express his anger at Tony for what he had done to me. I craved for Logan to bye me the way he had loved me when I was a nobody, a nothing living in a shack in the Willies. I looked for him to do something that would bring back the flood of memories of how sweet our youth had been because we had had each other.
Instead, he sat there trying to be calm and cool and understanding of another man's cruel and selfish behavior. Oh, I was so angry. My face flushed so red that even Logan looked frightened.
Of course, I understood that he had formed a relationship with Tony that bordered on idolizing him. Tony had made him feel important and rich and powerful. He thought the world of Tony and his business sense, and it was hard for him to suddenly see Tony as a weak, selfish little man. I knew, too, I hadn't told Logan the whole truth, the whole frightening and shameful truth.
"I haven't told you all of it," I said. "And when I do, we'll see if you are as understanding."
"There's more?"
"Yes, there's more . . ." I took a deep breath. "More reason for me to have left Farthy. Last night, after Tony and I had our argument and I told him I would leave, he came to our suite. He was drunk and half undressed."
"What did he want?" He nearly cringed in anticipation.
"What he wanted," I said slowly, deliberately, "was to make love to me. I had to fight him off and slap him across the face to bring him to his senses."
For a long moment Logan said nothing. It was as if he hadn't heard what I had just said. Then he sat back like a tired, defeated man, his chin nearly touching his chest, and he shook his head slowly.
"Oh, my God, oh, my God," he whispered. "I . . . I should have . . . have suspected as much."
"Suspected? What do you mean? You knew something but said nothing to me?"
"It wasn't something I knew; it was something I thought I sensed. What was I going to say? Beware of your grandfather--"
"Logan," I said, tears rolling down my cheeks, "Tony is my . . . my father."
"He's
what?!"
"My father, Logan. I found out a few years ago, and I never told you because I was so ashamed." The words came pouring out of me. There was so much to tell him, I was heedless to whether or not he would understand. "He raped my mother. That's why she ran away. Oh, don't you see? He's evil, Logan, Tony is evil. He tried to do the same thing to me." Then the sobs came and muffled my voice.
"Oh, Heaven, poor Heaven," Logan said, rising and coming to me to embrace me. "How you have suffered." He held me closely to him and kissed my forehead over and over again. "Oh, Heaven, I am so sorry. Now, I'm sorry." He shook his head and looked down again.
"Is that all you can say about it? You're sorry?"
He looked up sharply. "No. It sickens me. I want to get right on a plane and go back to Farthy. I want to have it out with Tony and make him understand what he is and what he's done. Even if it means wringing his neck," he added, his eyes flashing. This was more of the reaction I had expected and wanted, even if I didn't want him to carry out his threats. At least I felt certain that Logan cared more for me than he did for his new business ventures and newly found wealth and power.
"No," I said. "I don't want you to do that. It's not necessary now. I left him a broken, sick man, surrounded by his- guilt and his sad memories. We'll cut him off from our lives. He will be exactly what he is . . a business partner and nothing more. Never again will I think of him as my father, nor should you think of him as your father-in-law. I'm turning away from that part of my life, closing the curtain on that drama."