The Letting (18 page)

My escort pushes me down a hallway lined with portraits and filled with more opulence. Surprisingly, there is what looks like sports memorabilia—things like a set of black leather thick gloves and a baseball bat—placed on pedestals, sporadically lining the hall. And everywhere, in complete juxtaposition, there are soft chairs and couches waiting to absorb one’s exhaustion and ease the endless journey to dinner. Finally, I am wheeled into the dining room and greeted by a staff of four. One helps me into my dark wooden carved chair and glides me up to the thick solid wood table. I am struck by the fact that my wheelchair is immediately removed from the room. Another of the staff lays a red lace napkin on my lap. A third pours water into a gold rimmed glass. All stand by, waiting for Farnsworth to enter. I look around the room, hoping something in this overstuffed room will spark an idea, a plan. There’s nothing. Nothing except proof that Farnsworth lives in pure luxury.

Moments later, Farnsworth enters. He’s wearing a dark suit that is perfectly tailored to his thin body. His shirt collar lies casually under his suit, and a loosened tie dangles from it. His shoes are shiny and angular, jutting out from the tight hem of his pants. His face is glowing and he looks happy. He reaches up and pushes a stray piece of very blonde hair into place. “Veronica,” he nearly giggles, holding out his hands for me to join him. It just now occurs to me I should be standing. I struggle to push my chair back and rise onto my heels. I wobble when I stand and he looks at me, perplexed. “I was hoping you were feeling better.” A frown clouds his otherwise chipper demeanor. So he thinks it is still blood loss, and not these ridiculous heels, that is making me unsteady.

“Much better, thank you sir.” He walks to me and I have to suppress a laugh when I realize in these heels, he comes up to my chin. He squeezes both of my hands.

“Maybe those shoes are a bit much for you, huh?” He looks up at me and smiles in his shifty way.

“What shoes?” I ask, suddenly remembering he has only ever seen me lying in bed, or when he was confined to his wheelchair. We have never before stood toe to toe. His eyes widen with shock. There. I have the upper hand, if only for a minute. His look turns dark, and I can tell he doesn’t like to be made a fool of. Wrong approach. Quickly, I slip out of my shoes and stand flatfooted. Now he is only an inch or so shorter than me. It’s barely even perceptible. I smile at him and he softens slightly. He checks his anger and smiles back.

“You are everything I had hoped you would be, Ms. Veronica Billings.” He holds out his hand. “Shall we?” Once again, I am helped into my chair and within minutes the food begins arriving. Our first two courses are a bean soup, and artichokes dipped in drawn butter. They are served on thin porcelain dishes with a flower pattern. I have no idea what the flower is, but it’s large and purple. He sees me staring at it. “It’s a giant allium. Pretty, aren’t they?”

“Very,” I agree, savoring the taste of real butter. At camp, we eat grease from a can that is supposed to taste like butter. Because none of us has ever tried butter before, we never knew the difference. I do now.

Then our steaks are served, each one overflowing its plate. I cut into the steak and eat away, and slowly, the plate becomes visible. This plate has a long white flower that is shaped like a folded sleeping bag, atop a long thick stem. “Calla lily,” he informs me. “One of my favorites.” After a few more bites, I push my plate away, feeling uncomfortable by both the food and him. “Saving room for dessert?”

“Dessert?” I am unable to imagine stuffing in anything else. But no sooner do I ask, and the servers bring forth small, delicate plates with tall brown towers on top. I gasp when I see mine, not because of the confection, but because of the plate it is balanced on. This time the flower needs no explanation. These tiny yellow flowers are the flowers of my dreams. They are unmistakably dandelions. I can feel Farnsworth eyeing me.

“Something interesting?” he asks. I look at him, trying to remain calm.

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Really?” He raises an eyebrow. I don’t know if it’s paranoia or if he is truly skeptical. But how could he know about my connection to dandelions?

“Do you eat it?” I ask, looking up at him, my eyes wide. I am praying he buys this.

“Ah, the chocolate tower.” He sounds relieved.

“Yes.” I do my best to sound innocent. “How do you eat it? Where do you begin?” He smiles at me in a way he never has before. He looks almost…loving. The thought of his love threatens my ability to keep food down. He picks up his fork and taps into the side of his dessert.

“Like this.” He cracks into the tower with his fork.

“It’s too pretty to break,” I say. And he just smiles at me.

“Believe me,” he baits, “it’s worth it.”

I pick up my fork and stab straight down, into the tower. It crumbles at my touch. I shove a large piece of the thick, gooey, earthy chocolate into my mouth. After Phoenix’s kiss, this is the best thing I have ever experienced. I am just sorry it has to be in the company of Farnsworth.

Farnsworth looks at me, his eyebrows raised. “When will you ever stop surprising me, Veronica?” he asks. I wish I had a clever response but instead I find myself scraping the bottom of the empty plate with the back of my fork. The dandelions are lying there, looking up at me, waiting for me to find the answer. I push them aside.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he decides and he holds out his hand to me. Reluctantly, I place my hand in his and he pulls me to my feet. I leave the silly shoes under the table, and we walk out of the dining room. I slip out of his grasp as soon as possible. We walk down another long hallway, and I notice a very definite trend in the decor. Everything is opulent, and there are even more pieces of sports equipment hanging in this hallway. There’s a bow and arrow, several guns, and more balls than there are sports I know of. All are hanging or placed on pedestals with dates underneath them.

“Do you play all these sports?” I ask him.

“When I can,” he mumbles, and we walk out double doors that lead to a large flower garden.

“Oh,” I hear myself exclaim as I look around. Lights are placed all around the garden, and the flowers are shining like it’s midday. I can feel him beaming at me.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” I whisper, thinking of the grass at camp that is often more brown than green. I look around at a white picket fence with large flowering bushes and I am awed by its beauty. “Why do you love flowers so much?” I ask him.

“Because they are so very capable, yet so very fragile.” He stops for a moment, looking lost. “They stand tall, reaching for the sun, shining in all their glory, providing food, pollination, and profound pleasure…” He draws in a labored breath. “But they have no defenses. No strength, really. Something as unimportant as a strong wind can decimate my entire garden. The flowers bend and try to rally against the storm, but they have no inherent strength at all. They have nothing to fight with.” If I didn’t know he was a tyrannical murderer who pities himself and analogizes himself to a flower, I might almost feel bad for him. But as it is he just sounds weak. And he is all of those horrible things and more. And what’s worse, he made me a horrible thing too. And for that, I will never forgive him.

We walk through the garden and out onto the beach. I keep a comfortable distance so I’m certain he cannot hold my hand. The bottom of my gown drags as I walk, and little clouds of sand burst up over the hem of my dress. He stumbles on the sand but I feel remarkably strong after the dinner of iron, iron and chocolate. He watches me move, my body returning to its normal state, growing stronger and stronger by the second. I can’t help but run a little ahead of him, and the next thing I know I am splashing in the ocean, laughing. I wait for him to join me but he stays back.

“The water’s surprisingly warm.” I don’t know why I’ve extended the invitation.

“Thanks,” he replies. “I’ll pass.”

“Guess when you see it every day it’s not such a big deal.” I slow my splashing.

“It’s not that,” he explains. “I can’t swim.”

“Really?” I stop and stare at him. “You live here. Why not?”

“Well, you are straightforward, aren’t you?”

“Sorry,” I mumble, hoping I didn’t just send myself to a premature Letting. “I just mean with the ocean here…”

“My mother was always afraid I would hurt myself,” he shares. “She sheltered me from…well, everything.” Even in the darkness, I can tell his face has grown very, very sad.

“So learn now.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Why not?”

“Because everyone is afraid and no one will teach me.”

“I’ll teach you,” I offer before I realize I’ve said it.

“Really?” he asks, sounding genuinely interested. Then I remember Gretchen telling me Farnsworth wants nothing more than to be strong and to partake in all of the activities his constituents play. And then I realize there could never be a battle of strength with Farnsworth because he will not play it. There will only be a battle of the minds. Unfortunately for me, I am deficient in that area. But it can’t matter, because I’m all any of us has. No one else, not Phoenix, Gretchen, Gunnar or any of the girls can get as close to Farnsworth as I can. If I’m going to fight with Phoenix in his revolution, I need to be brave and face my biggest fear: the fact I may not be smart enough. The truth is I’m just going to have to be. Starting now.

“Yes,” I say. “I’ll teach you. But you can’t learn here. The water’s too violent.”

“I have a pool,” he offers. “Actually several.”

“You have several pools, and you don’t swim?”

“I know.” He shrugs.

“Pools are no good either. We need to make you strong if you want to swim, and frankly, giving you my blood’s not enough.” He looks at me, genuinely interested. “And to give you my blood regularly, we need to make me even stronger.”

“How do we do all of this?” he asks.

“The same way I’ve prepped every girl I’ve sent to you.” I stare him dead in the eyes. “We go to camp.”

Chapter Fifteen

Getting Farnsworth to agree to go to camp is so much easier than I ever imagined. “You want me to go camp?” he asks me, utterly shocked.

“Yes,” I answer. The ocean water laps at my feet and the moon hangs lazily on the horizon. “I can help you get stronger there. Teach you to swim.”

“Like my own personal trainer.” I see he is lost in his thoughts. “Are you joking?” I hear the vulnerability in his voice. “I run a country,” he explains, talking himself out of it. “I couldn’t just go…”

“Okay.” I turn my face toward the sky and feel the warmth of the purple twilight surround me. “It’s up to you. Stay here if you want. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunities to grow strong and learn new sports.” I pull my gown up over my calves and wade deeper into the water. “The ocean is beautiful.” He is standing near enough to me to hear without having to yell. “But it’s nothing like my lake. At night, my lake is so quiet it’s peaceful. Many sleepless nights I have paddled out in a canoe and lay back, letting the sounds of nature and the gentle rocking of the canoe lull me to sleep. During the day, the girls and I fish right off our dock, catching lots of small sunfish and sometimes even a large bass. And of course, there’s the swimming. The lake water temperature is always perfect. On the hot summer days it cools you off completely, but on the chillier spring and fall days, it feels as warm as a bathtub.” I glance at Farnsworth and see I have his rapt attention. “I’ve also built a diving board,” I add, splashing my feet in the water.

“By yourself?” he asks, flabbergasted.

“It wasn’t difficult. I love that board. I run up to it and jump and feel my whole being, body and soul, spring up into the air. It feels like I am stretching up into infinite space. Then I glide in the air for what feels like a beautiful eternity, the wind I’ve created blowing gently against my face. Then splash!” I slap my hands together for emphasis. “Suddenly I break into the water, my arms, then my head, my entire body, and finally my feet. The water caresses me gently and welcomes me in. After long moments of slithering through the water feeling more fish than human, I come up for air. When my head bursts through, I hear nothing but the sound of my own heartbeat, racing from the thrill of it all.”

“Let’s go to camp,” he declares.

“Okay.”

“We’ll leave tonight.” I nod, wondering how I will ever be able to build and set-up a diving board before Farnsworth makes his way down to the waterfront.

****

It is only Farnsworth and me in his helicopter traveling back to camp. He has refused any help, assuring everyone my blood has made him somewhat invincible. He is so invested in this trip I have to be sure I am absolutely ready, mentally and physically. If I waver, if I’m weak in any way, it will instill doubt in him and I will be sent back to his mansion for sure. I am also sure the girls will be waiting for me at camp, because he already told me they were there. I take a deep cleansing breath as the helicopter takes off. Just like Farnsworth, I have to do everything exactly right so I’m not caught in my web of lies.

The flight feels endless with Farnsworth sitting across from me, watching my every move. From time to time, I close my eyes and think about Phoenix, and how different our helicopter ride was. I smile as I think of him, how he would point to things through the window, explaining what they were to the girls; or how he told me, in no uncertain terms, that he would never forget me. The thought of him warms me and I snuggle into myself, imagining his arms around me. I open my eyes and Farnsworth is smiling at me, with that same unnerving look of love. I give him a quick smile back and immediately look out the window.

We land as close to the cabins as we can and I am home. I try to push open my door before the rotor stops, but I’m stuck. Glued to my seat. I feel trapped and claustrophobic in the small cabin of the helicopter with Farnsworth so near, and I look out at the brown-green grass and tiny cabins longingly. The first thing I have to do is get Farnsworth settled and then, I have to get word to Phoenix. Somehow. Naturally, Farnsworth’s entourage is coming, but they won’t arrive for another three or four hours. Our helicopter moves so much faster than the vehicles. Finally, the rotor stops and my door is released. I stumble out of the helicopter, very nearly tripping on my gown. Farnsworth sees me. Damn. I have to be more careful. A superwoman would not stumble. I steady myself and look back at Farnsworth who is still waiting in the cab. He looks nervous about his decision so I motion for him to join me. He walks down the steps warily, so I hold my hand out to him. He slips his hand in mine and my arm turns to stone. I try anyway possible to free myself. “Here it is,” I say. In the darkness of the night, the helicopter spotlight lights the camp. Inside the cabins I see silhouettes of terrified girls, frozen, staring out of the windows. I step forward so I can drop his hand, pretending to show him around. “These are our cabins.” I point to the various buildings around camp. “Over there’s the mess hall, and over here is Margaret’s office.” Just like the girls, she could not have missed our entrance. “I’m certain she’ll be out to join us momentarily.”