"Please don't, Tony. Despite everything that has happened between us, Logan once loved and admired you very much. Show him a little respect."
Tony looked down, shaking his head sadly from time to time. Then he looked once again into my eyes, his own filled with tears.
"Please, Heaven, can't we be alone for a few minutes? I need to talk to you so badly." "
"I shall never, ever be alone with you again," I said coldly.
"You don't understand, Heaven. I was drunk. I was out of my mind with grief over Jillian's death. I was—"
"Your bereavement took on a strange form of grieving."
"Heaven, come back to Farthy. Logan and you and I can start over again," he said, suddenly pleading like a little boy. "I just know it could work! I just know it!"
A tinge of pity for him enveloped me. He
suddenly looked so old and gray and helpless.
"I know we would all be happy there again," he continued. "Besides, Heaven, I think you exaggerated my behavior that night. I was only trying to embrace.
I only wanted to love you like a father!"
"Get out of here now," I said quietly but with ice in my voice. "Leave here this very minute."
Tony looked completely defeated. "I suppose you've told Logan everything."
"He's my husband. Of course I told him everything," I replied coldly. He nodded and his blue eyes swung to fix on the banner above the party site.
"I'm not going to ask you to forgive me. That's something you will do on your own or you won't. I only ask that you consider my motives," he said. "In any case," he went on before I could reply, "I won't be coming back here for some time. I have a great deal to do now in Boston, so you will have sufficient time to consider everything in its proper perspective. And" —he looked at me with his blue eyes softening for the first time since he had arrived—"time is magical. It heals all our wounds."
"But leaves scars," I said. He nodded with obvious disappointment.
"Good-bye Heaven. I'm sure you and Logan will do very well here," he said and pivoted quickly to walk to his limo, where Miles stood like a sentinel. I watched him get into the rear of the car. Miles closed the door, looked my way for a split second, and then got in and drove the vehicle off. I waited to watch it disappear down the road, drifting away like a memory made smaller and smaller with the passage of time until it was completely forgotten, driven out by the ticktack of a hundred thousand clocks.
I turned and the lively sounds of fiddling, the chatter of voices, and the sounds of laughter enveloped me.
I decided the only thing to do was to immerse myself in the party. Logan and his foreman ran tours of the factory. Samples of Willies Toys had been put out on display, puppets and carved animals we were planning to manufacture. But their wooden faces began whirling around me, the whittled animals appeared to come to life. I felt so dizzy and strange, standing among those toys, toys that I had grown up with, in gingham and braids, after all I had been through. I leaned against one of the display cases.
Logan's mother approached me, insisting on taking me about to be introduced to the wives of influential businessmen and professionals who lived in Winnerow or its surroundings. I could barely recognize their faces, they all looked like the puppets to me.
"Mother," I said, "I'm feeling a little dizzy."
"You do look pale," she said. "Perhaps you should lie down for a while. I know Logan had a cot in his office. You lie down there."
"What about Drake? Where is he?" I asked, feeling my legs almost gave way beneath me, "I promised to take him to the apple-bobbing contest, I promised—"
"Heaven, just take a look for yourself," she said, pointing out to the lawn.
I saw that Drake had already made friends with some of the children his age and was well occupied.
"There are loads of children here, and you know the hill people. They all look after one another.
Now, you run along and lie down. Drake's not your only child, remember?"
.
.
When I awoke, darkness was falling. I was
stunned that I had slept through the whole party. I wandered back outside. The crowd had thinned considerably. Only Logan, his parents, and a few die-hard drinkers were left.
"Well, look who's come back to the world,"
Logan called out, smiling.
"I didn't realize I'd slept so long," I said as he put a protective arm around me.
"Pregnant women need lots of rest," Loretta Stonewall interjected.
"Well, did everything go well?" I asked as I surveyed the remnants of the party. The food tables were empty, the band was beginning to pack up their instruments. All the cars, save ours and the Stonewalls, were gone. Suddenly I realized Drake wasn't there. "Where's Drake?" I asked, the cold finger of fear beginning to travel down my spine.
"Drake? I thought he was resting with you." Logan looked alarmed.
"He told me he was going to find you about an hour ago," Loretta said worriedly. "I just assumed he was with you."
"Drake!" I shouted.
"Don't worry, Heaven," Logan said, but I could hear alarm fill his voice. "He's probably playing with some of the sample toys. He's probably lost in his own world."
"Where?" I asked. "We've got to find him!"
"We will, don't worry," Logan said.
We split up and began wandering all over the factory and grounds, calling Drake's name.
"Drake! Drake!" I shouted.
The yellow light above the factory gate was lit, casting an eerie glow over the parking lot. On a small patch of lawn we'd set up a swing set for some of the children. I ran toward it. Drake was nowhere in sight, but one of the swings was still going back and forth, back and forth, as if a ghost sat on it. I looked into the darkness for a moment.
Behind the factory there were acres and acres of undeveloped forest.
"Drake!" I called loudly. "Drake, where are you?"
The only sound was the distant metallic cry of a train threading its way through the darkness in the distance. I waited a moment and then called again.
Intense panic began to set in, rattling my bones.
My legs felt as though they were ready to crack with fear.
"Drake!"
There was something about the silence and the darkness that told me he hadn't just wandered off exploring, as boys his age were wont to do. My screams finally brought Logan to my side.
"You haven't found him? You haven't found him?" I cried.
"No, no," he said. "My parents are still out searching. I'm going to call the police. But it's only a precaution. I'm sure, Heaven, I'm sure he'll turn up any minute."
I knew, by the tone of Logan's voice, he was as frightened as I was.
"Call them," I said. "I'll keep looking."
"Drake!" I screamed again.
"Please, you'll get a cold out here. I’ll get some of the men to look. Come back to my office and we'll wait for the police."
"I'm staying right here, Logan Stonewall. I'm going to look for Drake."
"Heaven, it's too dark. You can't see anything.
Please."
"I'll stand under the gate light so that Drake can find me. Just hurry and call the police," I said.
Logan ran back to the' ol ice. I stared out into the night, the black line of trees, the tiny sliver of a moon. Somewhere in the distance an owl hooted. And then, as if the hand of fate had tapped me on the shoulder, I knew where my Drake was as well as I knew my own heritage. There was only one place he could be. There was only one person who would know where he was. And I was certain of it as I was certain of my own name Fanny!
FIFTEEN
Love Held Hostage
MY HEART WAS ENVELOPED IN A
HEAVY CLOUD OF DESPAIR. I waited silently
with Logan while the Winnerow Police patrol car made a quick sweep of the factory neighborhood. We had asked his parents to go wait at Hasbrouck House in case Drake turned up there, or in case anyone who found him
called.
"Maybe he went into someone's house," Jimmy Otis, one of the officers, said when he stopped the police car in front of the factory.
I looked at Logan, who nodded thoughtfully.
"You might be right, Jimmy," he said. "The boy's not afraid of people and very curious about things."
"I'll keep cruisin' around here," Jimmy said.
"Just call the station if he returns and they'll radio me."
"Thanks, Jimmy," Logan said.
"If he's not found in another hour or so, I'll have Mary Lou call the chief at home. We'll want to get the guest list from the party so we can see if anyone saw him go anywhere."
"Okay," Logan said. As soon as the police drove off for another search, I told Logan what I feared.
"Fanny could have done something like this," I said. "We didn't invite her to the party."
Neither Logan nor I had mentioned Fanny
when we were making the guest list. His reasons were obvious, and I simply didn't want another
confrontation with her.
"Do you really think so?" he asked skeptically.
"All she had to do was drive by and see him.
She would stop to talk to him and talk him into getting into her car, telling him she would bring him right back. I know he's smart for his age, but he's just a little boy, Logan, and he knows Fanny is his sister."
"I suppose she could have done that," Logan said thoughtfully. I looked up at the half moon half hidden by dark clouds, an omen of something terrible, I thought.
"I'm going up to her house," I said and started quickly toward the car.
-Shouldn't I go along?" he asked softly.
"No. You had better remain here just in case Jimmy Otis is right and Drake wandered into someone's home. be right back," I said. Logan stayed on at the factory and I got into the car and drove to Fanny's.
As soon as I pulled up, those mangy watchdogs of hers came charging out, circling the car and barking as madly as hound dogs that had a fox trapped in a hole. Fanny's house was brightly lit and I could see she had a visitor. There was another car there. My anger and my concern for Drake overwhelmed my fear of the dogs.
I slammed my car door shut and stood straight as the dogs came around to snap at me, but I didn't retreat an inch and they kept their distance, barking a little more hysterically as I made my way to the front door of Fanny's home. When I pressed the buzzer, the dogs barked louder, but remained a few feet behind me. I had to press the buzzer again before Fanny opened the door. She stood there with her arms crossed under her breasts like Granny, her face screwed tightly, her lips pressed together in a tight line, and her blue eyes flashing.
"What'dya want, yer highness?" she asked without backing up a step to let me in. The dogs continued their yapping.
Even though Fanny was putting on this face of wrath, I could see through her mask and I knew I had been right.
"Let me in, Fanny," I said. "I'm not going to stand out here with those dogs barking and talk to you."
"Oh, so ma home's good enuf fer yer, but I'm not good enuf fer you to invite to your shindig, huh?"
"Let me in, Fanny," I repeated sternly. She stared a moment and then backed up so I could enter and close the door on the dogs behind me. As soon as I did so, I turned to the left and saw Randall standing in the living room doorway. He looked as troubled as a man haunted by an unrelenting conscience. His eyebrows dipped. His head was bowed and his shoulders sagged.
"What'dya want?" Fanny snapped. I could see by the way she looked quickly at Randall that she was putting on a show for him.
"Fanny, Drake's missing," I said in as controlled a voice as I could. I knew how important it was not to show any weakness. She would pounce on it with the speed of a cat pouncing on a helpless mouse. "Do you have him here?"
Fanny didn't respond right away. She smiled brilliantly, her white teeth flashing. It was a wicked, hateful smile, but a smile that built assurance, confience. There was also something in Randall's expression that told me she had convinced him to help her.
She had known I would show up here and she had told him so.
"What if I have? He's ma brotha, too. I got a right ta have him in ma home. He belongs here more n' he belongs with you and Goody Two-shoes."
"Fanny, did you take him?" I demanded, my voice now throwing off the ropes of restraint and sounding a note of hysteria.
"He's where he belongs," she said, admitting it.
I started toward her, my anger, fear, and hate twisted and rolled together like a ball of barbed wire.
Her eyes widened in surprise as I rushed forward and seized the collar of her flimsy, cotton blouse, pulling her roughly toward me.
"Where is he? How could you do this? Damn you!"
Fanny gathered her courage and clutched a
handful of my hair, her nails digging into my scalp.
We struggled only for a moment before Randall rushed in between us, pulling us apart.
"Hold it! Stop! Hold it!" he cried. "Heaven, please. Fanny. Stop!"
Separated, we glared at each other, both of us breathing hard and fast.
"Ya keep yer hands off me, Heaven. We ain't in the cabin in the Willies and ya can't boss me around,"
she said, straightening her blouse.
I caught my breath and turned to Randall.
"Where's Drake?" I demanded.
"He ain't gonna do anythin' ya tell him nuther.
He knows what ya are, too."
"Randall!"
"You'll have to work it out between the both of you," he said in a tired and defeated voice. "She has just as much right as you do," he added, turning his back on me and walking back to the living room doorway.
"That's right, Heaven. I do. I have more right.
Pa loved me more n' he loved ya and he'd a wanted me ta be a motha ta Drake, not you. Ya hated him and Drake knows that now."
"What?"
"I told him all about it," she said, her hands on her hips. "All 'bout how ya went ta the circus that day, dressed as yer motha, just so yer could punish him and how yer caused that accident that killed poor Tom and nearly killed Luke. Drake knows what ya are. He knows it." She smiled again. "He thinks ya made his motha and father go ta Heaven."
"Where is he?" I demanded again, more panic in my voice. "You can't keep me from him!" I started into the house, but Fanny blocked my way.
"This is ma home, Heaven Leigh, and I don't want ya here, understand?"
"You can't keep Drake from me," I said. "I've called the police and I'll have them up here in moments. You can't stop me from getting him."
"No? Well, I been ta a lawya, Wendell Burton, and he says I have just as much right ta be a motha ta poor Drake as ya do. Especially," she added, turning toward Randall, "since Randall and I are gettin' married and we kin give Drake a home."
"What?" This time when I looked at Randall, he returned my gaze, and I understood that he was so infatuated with Fanny, he would do anything she wanted him to do. Fanny looked very sure about him.
"She's right, Heaven. You had no right to just assume you could take Drake into your home. Fanny has rights, too. She's family, too."
I stared at him a moment and then looked at Fanny, who had gathered herself together again and was looking more confident and satisfied than a wildcat with a fish between its paws.
"You can't just do this . . . kidnap Drake and fill his head with stories to turn him against me. You can't."
"I kin too. I got rights. Ya heard Randall and we spoke ta a lawya," she repeated, making it sound more like a chant.
"Fanny, you don't want to do this," I said, trying to take on a softer, more reasonable tone. "You don't want to take this into a court where everything about us will be exposed like naked mannequins in a store-front for all to see and laugh at. How would you like that?"
"How would you? Yer the one who hasta look high and mighty here. How would yer new family of Stonewalls like it? Think Logan's ma would like it?"
&n
bsp; she said, turning her shoulder at me. "Think Logan will like stuff brought out in public?"
"You're trying to blackmail me into giving you Drake," I said. I looked at Randall, but his expression was unchanged. "Well, I won't let you. I'll fight you and you'll be the sorry one. I swear it."
She simply smiled.
"Damn you," I said. Her smile faded quickly and was replaced with a face filled with flames. Her eyes burned at me.
"Get outta ma house," she ordered. "Drake doesn't even wanna see ya since I told him the truth."
"My God, what have you done to him?"
"I just brought him home ta his own people,"
she said proudly. "And that's where he'll stay."
I looked at Randall again. My body was
trembling now. Fanny would have never been able to stand so firm and tall against me if Randall hadn't been there, I thought. She was performing for him as much as she was for me now. It had become a matter of her ego and pride, and when ego and pride are at stake, cowards and beggars could become heroes and kings.
"I'm terribly disappointed in you, Randall," I said softly, hoping to appeal to his kind and better nature. "You seemed to me to be a sensitive and intelligent young man. You don't know what you're getting involved in here."
"Oh, yes, he does. He's a college student, ya know. Ya ain't the only one with brains, Heaven."
I felt my throat tighten, my eyes water, but I knew I must not show any signs of weakness here. I bit down on my lower lip and glared at Randall. Then I turned to Fanny and, drawing deeply from the well of my Tatterton ancestry to bring up the grit and strength that turned them into ruthless and successful businessmen, I spat my words at her in the most threatening, frightening voice I could muster.
"I'll come after you now," I said. "With all the power and fury my money can buy, and when this is over, you will truly understand the meaning of vengeance."
She couldn't hold my gaze; she had to turn away. I glared once more at Randall and then I opened the door and stepped out of the house, slamming the door behind me and starting up those annoying watchdogs. This time I practically didn't hear their barking as I walked back to my car.
Fallen Hearts (Casteel Series #3) Page 28
