.
The return address I put on the envelope was the post office box I had secretly opened the day before, while Tony purchased clothes for himself in the shop down the street. I chewed the end of my pen thoughtfully before I finally put that single small sheet into its envelope, with a small prayer. Logan, with all his strength and fidelity, could save me from so much if he would, if he still cared enough.
The very next day I had a chance to mail my letters. I told Tony I needed to use the ladies' room, then I dashed out of the store's side door and ran to drop my letters in a mailbox. There, I sighed with relief. I'd made contact with my past. My forbidden past.
Then back again to Farthy, which was
beginning to seem like home, now that I had possessions I could call my own. I was up early each morning to swim with Tony in the indoor pool, and after drying off and changing my clothes, I'd eat breakfast with him, already I had grown accustomed to Curtis the butler, so I could ignore his presence almost as well as Tony did—until I needed something. I saw very little of Jillian, who wasted half her day in her room before she came flitting out, looking gorgeous, on her way to her hairdresser or some luncheon party (where I hoped she ate more substantial meals than tiny sandwiches with champagne).
As for Tony, soon after breakfast he left for Boston to conduct his business at the Tatterton Toy Corporation. Sometimes he'd call from his city office and invite me to lunch in an elegant restaurant, where I felt like a princess. I loved the way people turned to stare at us, as if we were father and daughter. Oh, Pa, if only you'd had half the manners Tony displayed as second nature.
Then came the hard days, the surprising days, when I had to drive off with Tony early each morning, while he was on his way to work, and he'd let me out in front of a tall and forbidding-looking office building where I was to take tests that I would have to pass even to be admitted to Winterhaven. "The first tests will get you in to Winterhaven," Tony explained,
"the others will determine whether or not you will qualify for the best universities. I am expecting you to receive high scores, not merely average ones."
I sat one evening in Jillian's room watching her put on makeup, wishing I could talk to her as a mother, or even a grandmother, but the moment I brought up the difficult tests I'd taken that day, she flung her right hand out impatiently. "For God's sake, Heaven, don't bore me with talk of school! I hated school, and it was all Leigh could talk about. I don't know what difference it makes anyway, when beautiful girls like you are so quickly snatched off the market they seldom have use for what brains they have."
My eyes widened with shock when she said this—what century did Jillian live in, anyway? Both parents worked in most marriages nowadays. Then, looking Jillian over gain with more perception, I guessed she had always believed her good looks would win her a fortune—and so they had.
"And furthermore, Heaven, when finally you enter that hateful school, try never to bring home any friends you might make there—or if you feel you have to, please warn me at least three days in advance so I can make other plans for myself."
I sat silent and stunned and deeply hurt. "You are never going to let me be part of your life, are you?" I asked in a pitifully small voice. "When I lived in the Willies I thought when finally I met you, my mother's mother, that you would love me, and need me, and want us to be a close, loving family."
How oddly she looked at me, as if at some circus freak. "Close, loving family? What are you talking about? I had two sisters and one brother, and none of us got along. All we did was fuss and squabble and find reasons to hate one another. And have you forgotten what your mother did to me? I have no intentions of allowing you to win your way into my affections, so that I'll be hurt again when you leave."
From the way she kept looking at me, her faint brows raised a trifle, I knew it wouldn't have to be anything earth shattering to put me out of this house
—and out of her life. Jillian wanted her life just as it had been before I came. I was giving nothing at all to her. I had never felt so depressed.
But Tony more than made up for Jillian's lack of interest and enthusiasm. I passed my tests with very high scores, the first hurdle overcome. Now all he had to do was grease all the wheels necessary for the faculty of Winterhaven to bypass hundreds of other girls who were on the waiting list.
We were in his posh home office when he gave me the news, his blue eyes watching me narrowly.
"I've done all I can to enter you into Winterhaven.
Now it's your turn to prove yourself. You scored very high on your tests and will enter as a senior. And we must make your college applications now, and your SAT scores will be forwarded along. Winterhaven is a highly academic school. They'll make you work.
They'll supply you with intelligent teachers. They reward their best students with what they consider is good for you, such as special social activities that you may or may not enjoy. If you reach the top of their academic lists, you'll be taken to teas and you'll meet those people who really count in Boston society.
You'll be favored with concerts and operas and plays.
Sports are very neglected at Winterhaven I'm sorry to say. Do you participate in any particular sport?"
When I lived in the Willies I'd studied hard to earn good grades. There hadn't been time or energy to play sporting games, when I walked seven miles to school each day and seven miles back to that shack in the hills. Once I reached home there was laundry to do, and gardening, and helping Sarah and Granny.
Living with the Dennisons in Candlewick hadn't been that much better, not when Kitty had expected me to be her slave. And Cal had wanted only an indoor playmate.
"What's wrong with you? Can't you answer? Do you like sports?"
"I don't know yet," I whispered, keeping my eyes lowered. "I've never had the chance to play sports."
Too late I realized keeping my eyes lowered wasn't enough when Tony was so observant. I had to keep my facial expressions calm and unrevealing as well. Casting him a quick glance, I saw a glimmer of pity in his eyes, as if he guessed far more about my miserable background than I'd told him. But not in a million years would he be able to guess all the horror of being poor. Quickly I smiled, lest he read too much. "I'm a very good swimmer."
"Swimming is good for the figure. I hope you will continue to use our indoor pool this winter."
I nodded, feeling uneasy.
Directly overhead I could faintly hear the clickityclack of Jillian's satin mules as she went through her complicated beauty regimen before going out. She had another regimen for getting ready for parties, and the longest and most tiresome was the one she performed before going to bed. "Have you told Jillian yet that I'm staying?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the ceiling.
"No. With Jillian you don't have to be specific or give detailed explanations. Her attention span is short. She has her own thoughts. We are just going to let it happen."
Tony leaned back and templed his hands under his chin. By this time I knew this was his body language to show he was in control of the situation.
"Jillian will get used to seeing you around, to having you come and go on the weekends, just as you're getting used to hearing the surf pound on the shore.
Bit by bit you'll seep into her days, into her consciousness. You'll win her with your sweetness, with your eagerness to please her. Just never forget you are not in competition with her. Give her no reason whatever to think you are mocking her attempts to fool everyone about her age. Think before you speak, before you act. Jillian has a whole entourage of friends who know how to play the
'ageless' game as well as she does, but she's the champion player, as you'll find out. I've written this list of her friends and their spouses and children, also their hobbies and likes and dislikes. Study it well.
Don't be too eager to please. Be clever and compliment them only when they deserve it. If they talk about subjects you know nothing about, keep your silence and listen attentively. You'd be amazed how much
people like a good listener. Even though you might not say one meaningful thing, if you ask the right questions, such as 'tell me more,' they will consider you a brilliant conversationalist."
He rubbed his palms together, looking me over again from head to toe. "Yes, now that you have the right clothes, you'll be accepted. Thank God you don't have one of those awful country dialects to overcome."
Yet he was making me panic with his long list of Jillian's friends, who represented hurdles I had to jump. It seemed every word he spoke took me farther and farther away from my brothers and sisters. Were they all going to be lost to me now that I'd gained a certain kind of stable ground for myself? Neither Fanny nor Tom could pass for friends I made here in Boston, not with their broad country dialect. Then there was me, I could be triggered into doing something wrong, if I were made to feel too vulnerable.
There was only one person from my past who wouldn't raise Tony's suspicions, and that was Logan.
Logan, with his strong, clean-cut good looks, and his honest, steadfast eyes. But Logan was not the kind to want to play deceitful games about where he came from. He was a Stonewall, and proud to be a Stonewall, not ashamed as I was of my surname, and my heritage. —
Tony was watching me. I squirmed in the wing chair.
"Now, before Jillian comes down and interrupts with talk of where she's going and what she's wearing, study this map of the city. Miles will drive you on Monday mornings to school, and he or I will pick you up each Friday afternoon about four. Later, when you are of age, you can drive yourself to and from. What kind of car would you like, say for your eighteenth birthday?"
It so thrilled me to think of owning my own car, I shivered and was unable to answer for a full minute.
"I'd be grateful for any kind you want to give me," I whispered.
"Oh, come now. Your first automobile is a big event, let's make it special. Between now and then, think about it. Watch the cars on the streets. Stop into car dealerships and do some window-shopping. Learn to be discriminating, and most of all, develop your own style. Be yourself with flair."
I didn't have the least idea what he meant; still, I'd take his advice and try to be "discriminating."
While I sat on, still thrilled about that day when I'd have my own car, he spread the city map on the desk.
"Here is Winterhaven," he said, putting his finger on a spot he'd encircled with red ink. "And here is Farthy."
The hard clack of Jillian's heels could be heard on the marble stairs. Tony began to fold the map. He had it in the drawer by the time she was at the library door. Her perfume preceded her into the room. Oh, how worldly and confident she appeared as she breezed in, smiling at me, smiling at Tony, wearing her black wool crepe suit trimmed with a mink collar and cuffs. From beneath her jacket peeked a black chiffon blouse that glittered. In contrast to all this darkness Jillian's fairness was dazzling to behold. She seemed a diamond set against black velvet.
Perhaps I inhaled too deeply, allowed myself to be too impressed. The sweet waft of her flowery perfume not only filled my nostrils, it seemed, to invade my lungs, so that I gasped, almost choked, before I began a violent paroxysm of coughs that racked me and flushed my face with hot blood.
"Why are you coughing, Heaven?" she asked, whipping around to stare at me with wide-eyed alarm.
"Are you coming down with a cold? The flu? If you are, please don't come near me! I hate being sick! And I'm not good with sick people, they make me impatient. I never know what to do or what to say.
I've never been sick a day in my life . . . except when Leigh was born."
"Giving birth isn't considered an illness, Jill,"
corrected Tony in a mild, patient voice.
He'd risen to his feet when she came in. I hadn't known men did that for their wives in their own homes. I was so impressed I shivered with the thrill of living with people who had such elegant manners.
"You look absolutely stunning, Jillian," said Tony. "There is no color more flattering to you than black."
Apparently Jillian liked what she was seeing in his eyes. She forgot about my germs and turned to him. Appearing to glide, she entered the embrace he offered, and tenderly she reached to cup his face between her gloved hands. "Oh, darling, where does the time go? It seems you and I see so little of one another. Every time I want you lately, you're not here.
Soon Christmas will be making demands on us, and already- I'm tired of winter, and planning parties." Her hands slipped from his face and she was embracing him around the waist. "I love you so much, darling, and want you all to myself. Wouldn't it be wonderful to have another honeymoon? Please do try and figure out a way for us to escape the tedium and misery of staying in this hatefully cold house until January." She kissed him twice, and then went on very softly, "Troy can take care of the business end, can't he? You are always raving about his genius for hard work, so give him his chance to prove himself."
It was strange how my heartbeats quickened when she mentioned Troy's name, and at the same time I wanted to scream out my protest. They had to stay! They couldn't leave me here alone, to spend the holidays in some strange school, with students I didn't even know!
And all of what she was doing to Tony brought back Kitty, who had known exactly how to wrap her husband Cal around her fingers! Were all men so acutely tuned to their sexual lives that they lost control of common sense when a beautiful woman flattered them? Oh, it was true, Tony didn't seem like the same man who had templed his fingers under his chin only moments ago. He was studying her with soft intensity, and in some subtle, mysterious way she'd managed to gather his reins, and now she was in control. It scared me, that easy way she had of getting what she wanted from him. "I'll see what can be done," he said idly, plucking from the shoulder of her suit a long, blond hair. Very carefully he dangled it over a wastebasket before he let it fall. And in this small act, I realized no woman would ever control Tony—he'd just allow them to think they did.
He pulled gently away from her hands, which clung to his lapels. "Heaven and I plan to finish our school clothes shopping this afternoon. It would be very pleasant if you came along with us, and we could make a day of it, dinner tonight and then the theater or a movie . . ."
"Ohhh," she murmured, her eyes pelting when they met his, "I don't know . . ."
"Certainly you know," he said. "Your friends can do without you. After all, you've known them for years, and Heaven is yet a secret to unfold."
Instant mortification was Jillian's. Her blue eyes swung to me, as if I'd completely faded from her memory. "Oh dear, I've been neglecting you, haven't I? Why didn't one of you tell me in time? I'd really love to go shopping with you and Tony, but I thought you'd finished, and I made my plans. Now it's too late to cancel. And if I don't show up at my bridge club those catty women will rip me to shreds, and they can't do that when I'm there." She started to come closer and kiss me, but just in time she remembered my coughs. She froze and for a second seemed puzzled by something. My long mass of hair, which was difficult to control, drew her critical attention.
"You could use a good hairstylist," she murmured absently, bowing her head to delve deep into her purse. She came up with a small card. "Here, love, is just the man you need. He's a genius with hair. Mario is the only person I allow to touch mine." She glanced in a wall mirror, raising her hand to touch her hair lightly. "Never go to a woman stylist; men are so much more appreciative of a woman's beauty and seem to know just what to do to enhance it"
I thought of Kitty Dennison, who had owned and managed a beauty salon. Kitty had considered herself the best anywhere, and in my poor opinion, she had been very skilled. However, Kitty's strong, auburn hair seemed coarse as a horse's tail compared to Jillian's silken tresses.
Smiling, Jillian threw Tony another kiss before she floated through the door, humming that same mindless tune that showed she was happy.
Shadows deep and dark were in Tony's eyes as he sauntered to a. window to watch her drive off with Miles, the go
od-looking young chauffeur.
While his back was still toward me, he began:
"One of the things I like best about winter is the snow, and skiing. I was thinking when the season was on, I could teach you how to ski, and I'd have a companion.
Jillian doesn't care for strenuous exercise that could break her bones and give her pain. Troy likes to ski, but he's always occupied with his own comings and goings."
I waited with bated breath for him to say more.
He dropped the subject of Troy and went back to Jillian. "Jillian disappointed me in her lack of enthusiasm for anything out of doors. When I first met her, she used to pretend to like golf and tennis, swimming and football. She'd wear the cutest little tennis dresses, although she's never had a racket in her hand, and wouldn't dream of chasing a ball and making herself sweaty."
At that particular moment the vision of Jillian in her black suit was so luminous I couldn't blame her for not wanting to spoil her frail perfection, which certainly couldn't last forever. I wouldn't doubt, or fear, I'd just cling to the dream that had to come true .
. . and if I believed hard enough, one day Jillian would really look at me, and her eyes would really smile to say she'd forgiven me for ending the life of my mother
. . .
Two weeks after I arrived in Boston I was enrolled in Winterhaven. I had not seen Troy again, but I was thinking of him when Tony opened the car door for me and broadly motioned toward the elegant school that was Winterhaven, nestled snug in its own small campus of bare winter trees with evergreens relieving the bleakness. The main building was white clapboard, gleaming in the early afternoon sunshine. I had expected a stone building, one of brick, not this kind. "Tony," I exclaimed, "Winterhaven looks like a church!"
"Did I forget to mention it used to be a church?" he asked with laughter in his eyes. "The bells in the tower there will chime for each passing hour, and at twilight they play melodies. Sometimes it seems when the wind is right that those bells can be heard throughout Boston. Imagination, I presume."
Dark Angel (Casteel Series #2) Page 7
