“I try not to do much thinking at all. It’s a good way to keep from worrying about the years ahead, and how I’m going to manage. Eventually I will be alone, and I fear that day, fearing it’s more than I can handle.”
“Chris and I will always be with you, as long as you need us, and as long as we live; but long before either of us die, you will have found someone else. I know that will happen.”
“How do you know that? I’m not sure I even want anyone. I’d be embarrassed now to have a wife. I’m trying to find something to do to fill the empty place that dancing left, and so far I haven’t. The best thing in my life now are my twins and my parents.”
I glanced again at the pair on the tree stump, just in time to see Bart jump up to lift the twins out of their double stroller, and then he was playing with them on the roadside grass. They liked everyone and even tried to charm Joel, who never touched them, never spoke to them as we did. Faintly we could hear the laughter of the little boy and girl who grew prettier and prettier each day. Bart looked and acted happy. I told myself that Bart needed someone too, just as desperately as Jory did. In a way, he needed someone even more than Jory. Inevitably Jory would find his way, with or without a wife.
We sat on and on, watching the pair who played with the twins. A full moon rose, appearing exceedingly large and golden in the twilight. A bird over the lake not so far away made its lonely cry. “What’s that?” I asked, sitting up straighter. “I never heard a bird like that before down here.”
“It’s a loon,” said Jory, looking in the direction of the lake. “Sometimes a storm blows them down this way. Mel and I used to rent a cottage on Mount Desert Isle, and we’d hear the cries of the loons and think them romantic. I wonder why we thought that. Now that cry just sounds forlorn, even eerie.”
Out of the dark near the shrubbery, Joel spoke up. “There are some who say that lost souls inhabit the bodies of loons.”
His benign voice said softly, “Those who can’t find peace in their graves, Catherine. Those who hesitate between Heaven and Hell, looking back to their time on earth to see what they left unfinished. By looking back, they are trapped forever, or at least until their life’s work is done.”
I shivered as if a cold wind blew from the cemetery.
“Don’t try to digest that, Mom,” said Jory impatiently. “I wish I could use some of the descriptive adjectives that Cindy’s age group can throw out with so much ease and not feel crass. Funny,” he added more thoughtfully as Joel disappeared again in the darkness, “when I was in New York and I was disgusted, impatient, or angry, I used gutter language, too. Now, even when I think about saying those words, something keeps me from doing it.”
He didn’t have to explain. I knew exactly what he meant. It was all around us, in the atmosphere, the clarity of the mountain air, the closeness of the stars . . . the presence of a strict and demanding God. Everywhere.
The New Lovers
They met in the shadows. They kissed in the halls. They haunted the sunny, spacious gardens, roamed there in the moonlight, too. They swam together, played tennis together, strolled hand in hand by the lakeshores; they walked and jogged in the woods, had picnics by the pool, by the lake, in the woods; went dancing, to restaurants, then the theater, the movies.
They lived in their own world while we were apparently invisible, not seen or heard by them, not when they could look at each other across the dining table with dazzled eyes, as if they had the world by its tail and would never let it go. I was caught up in their romance, despite myself, thrilled to be around such glowing, beautiful young lovers, a matched pair with their dark hair almost the same color. I was happy and I was unhappy, delighted, yet so sad that it was not Jory who had found another woman to love. I wanted to warn Toni she was on treacherous ground, that Bart was not to be trusted, but then I’d look at Bart’s radiant face, free of guilt or shame. This time he wasn’t stealing anything that belonged to his brother. My critical words would fade away unspoken. Who was I to tell him whom he could love? I, of all people, had to stay quiet and let him have his chance. This was different than it had been with Melodie; Toni didn’t belong to Jory.
Bart showed his happiness by becoming more confident, and with the security in his newfound love he forgot all his peculiar habits and his obsessive concern for neatness and allowed himself to relax in sports clothes. In the past, a thousand-dollar suit worn with expensive silk shirts and ties had given him his status symbols; now he didn’t care, for Toni had given him his sense of worth. I could tell that for the first time in his life he seemed to have found stable ground to stand on.
He smiled and kissed me several times on the cheek. “I know what you wanted to happen, I do! I do! But it’s me she loves, Mother! Me! Toni sees something wonderful and noble in me! Do you realize how that makes me feel? Melodie used to say she saw these qualities in me too, but I didn’t feel noble or wonderful when I knew what harm I was doing to Jory. Now it’s different. Toni’s never been married, never had a lover before, although she’s had lots of boyfriends. Mother, think of that! I am her first lover! It makes me feel so special to be the one she waited for. Mother, we have something wonderfully special. In me she sees the same things that you see in Jory.”
“I think that’s wonderful, Bart. I am happy for you both.”
“Are you really?” His dark eyes turned serious as they sought to delve the truth of my statement. Before I could reply, Joel spoke from the open doorway of Bart’s study.
“You stupid fool! You think that nurse really wants you? That woman sees the nobility of your money! It’s your bank accounts she’s after, Bart Foxworth! Have you observed the way she strolls through this house, her eyes half closed, obviously pretending that she’s the mistress here! She doesn’t love you. She is using you to get what every woman wants—money, control, power, and then more money—and once you marry her, she’ll be set for life, even if you divorce her later on.”
“Shut up!” barked Bart, turning to glare furiously at the old man. “You’re jealous because I have no time left to spend with you. This is the cleanest, purest love of my life—and I’m not going to allow you to spoil it!”
Joel bowed his head meekly, appearing crestfallen as he templed his palms together under his chin before he slipped down the hall, obviously headed for that special small room that Bart had converted into a family chapel, although only Joel and Bart ever prayed there. I’d never even bothered to look inside.
I stood on my toes to kiss Bart’s cheek, to hug him and wish him good luck. “I’m happy for you, Bart. Sincerely happy. I truthfully admit I had hopes that Toni might fall in love with Jory and make up for his loss of Melodie. I wanted the twins to have a mother while they are still babies. She would have the chance to learn to love them like her own, and they wouldn’t remember any mother but her. But since it hasn’t happened that way, seeing your happiness and hers makes me feel warm and good inside.”
Delving, delving, those dark eyes that tried to read my soul. I had to ask: “Will you marry her?”
His hands rested lightly on my shoulders. “Yes, I’ll ask her soon, after I make sure she isn’t deceiving me. I have a method all planned to test her.”
“Bart that’s not fair. When you love you have to trust.”
“To have blind faith in anyone but God is idiotic.”
Only too well I remembered what Chris was always telling me. Seek and you shall find. I knew that well enough. I’d always been suspicious of the best that life gave me, and soon enough the best had disappeared.
“Mother . . . ,” he began with surprising candor, “if Jory had kept his dancing legs, I know now that Melodie would never have let me touch her. She loved him, not me. She may have even pretended I was him, for sometimes I see a certain resemblance between us. I also think Melodie saw what she wanted to see, and she turned to me because he couldn’t satisfy her physical needs any longer. I was a substitute lover for my brother, just as I’ve always come in second to J
ory. Only with Toni have I come first.”
“You’re right this time, Bart. Jory is here and Toni isn’t seeing him. She sees you, only you.”
His lips took on an ironic twist. “Yeah . . . but you’re not mentioning that I’m up on my legs and he’s down. I’ve got the most money, and he’s got a pittance in comparison. And he’s already burdened with two children that won’t be hers. Three strikes against Jory . . . so I win.”
Now I was wanting him to win; he needed Toni ten times more than Jory did. My Jory was strong even when he was down, and Bart was so vulnerable and uncertain while he was perfectly healthy. “Bart, if you can’t love yourself for what you are, how do you expect anyone else to? You’ve got to start believing that even without money Toni would still love you.”
“We will soon find out,” he said tonelessly, a certain something in his eyes that reminded me of Joel. He turned to dismiss me. “I’ve got work to do, Mother. See you later . . .” and he was smiling at me with more love than he’d shown since he was nine.
Contrary, complex, perplexing, challenging, the man my little troubled Bart had grown into . . .
Cindy had written to tell us how fabulous her summer days in the New England drama class were going. “We act in real productions, Momma, in real barns that are temporarily converted into theaters. I love it, really love every aspect of show biz.”
Often I missed Cindy as the summer days passed. We all swam in the lake or pool, introducing the rapidly growing twins to all the wonders of nature. They had small teeth now and were both fast crawlers to wherever they wanted to go, and that was everywhere. Nothing was safe from their small, grasping hands that considered every object a food item. Flaxen blond hair turned into ringlets on their heads, pink lips turned rosy from the sun, and their cheeks stayed flushed with color, while their wide, innocent, blue eyes devoured all faces, swallowed down all first impressions.
We swept the glorious hot summer days away like iridescent dust settling into photograph albums that would never let the days and happy moments truly disappear. Snap snap snap went three different kinds of cameras, as Chris, Jory, and I took picture after picture of our wonderful twins. They adored being outdoors, sniffing the flowers, feeling the tree bark, watching the birds, squirrels, rabbits, raccoons, the ducks and geese that often invaded our swimming pool, only to be chased off quickly by the adults.
Before I knew it, summer was gone and autumn was upon us again. This year Jory could enjoy this glorious season of splendor in the mountains. The trees foresting the mountain-side flamed into spectacular colors.
“A year ago I was in Hell,” said Jory, staring at the trees and mountains and glancing down at his left hand, which no longer wore a wedding band of gold. “My final divorce papers came, and you know, I didn’t feel anything but numb. I lost my wife the day I lost the use of my legs, and still I’m surviving and finding that life does go on and it can be good, even when experienced from a chair.”
My arms went around him. “Because you have strength, Jory, and determination. You have your children, so your marriage was not without its rewards. You still have celebrity status, don’t forget that, and you can, if you want, start teaching ballet classes.”
“Nope, I can’t neglect my son and daughter, not when they don’t have a mother.” Then he tilted his head back to smile at me. “Not that you don’t make a super mother figure, but I want you and Dad to live your own lives, not be burdened down with small children who might hamper your lifestyle.”
Laughing, I tousled his dark curls. “What lifestyle, Jory? Chris and I are happy where we are, with our sons and grandchildren.”
* * *
The bright fall days slowly chilled, bringing the acrid scent of woodfires burning. I was drawn outside early each day, taking Jory and the twins with me. The twins were pulling themselves up to stand by holding on to hands or furniture. Deirdre had even taken a few faltering, wide-legged steps, her bottom fat with diapers and plastic panties, covered by other pretty panties that she seemed to adore. Darren seemed more than content with his fast crawl that took him speedily wherever he wanted to go—which was everywhere. I’d even caught him crawling backward down those high front stairs, with Deirdre close behind him.
On this fine early October day, Deirdre rode on Jory’s lap, happily jabbering to herself, as I carried a more subdued Darren, using the new dirt trails that Bart had considerately ordered leveled so Jory could drive his chair through the woods. Tree roots that might have tripped up his chair had been removed at considerable cost. Now that Bart had a love of his own, he treated his brother with much more consideration and respect.
“Mother, Bart and Toni are lovers, aren’t they?” Jory shot out unexpectedly.
“Yes,” I admitted with reluctance.
He said something then that startled me. “Isn’t it odd how we’re born into families and have to accept what we’re given? We don’t ask for each other, yet we’re glued all our lives to those whom we’d never speak to twice if they weren’t blood related.”
“Jory, you don’t really dislike Bart that much, do you?”
“I’m not speaking of Bart, Mom. He’s been rather decent lately. It’s that old man who says he’s your uncle that I dislike. The more I see of him the more I detest him. At first when he showed up, I pitied him. Now I look at Joel and see something evil beneath those faded blue eyes. Somehow or other he reminds me of John Amos Jackson. I believe he’s using us, Mom. Not just for practical reasons of having a home and food to eat . . . he has something else in mind. Just today, I happened to hear Joel whispering to Bart in the back hall. I think from what I overheard, Bart is going to tell Toni the complete truth about his past—his psychological problems—and the fact that if he’s ever committed to an institution he’ll lose his entire inheritance. He’s being urged to do this by Joel. Mom, he shouldn’t tell her! If Toni truly loves him, she’ll accept the fact he’s had his problems. From all I can see, he’s normal now, and very brilliant at making money grow.”
My head bowed. “Yes, Jory. Bart told me himself, but he keeps putting off that revelation, as if he himself believes it’s his money she’s after.”
Jory nodded, holding fast to Deirdre, who was trying to climb down from his lap and explore by herself. Just seeing his sister do that made Darren anxious to be free as well.
“Has Joel ever said anything to indicate he might try to break his sister’s will and take the money that Bart expects to inherit the day he’s thirty-five?”
Jory’s laugh was short, dry. “Mom, that old man never says anything that isn’t a double entendre. He doesn’t like me and avoids me as much as possible. He disapproves of the fact that once I was a dancer and wore skimpy costumes. He disapproves of you. I see him watching you with narrowed eyes, and he mutters to himself, ‘Just like her mother . . . only worse, far worse.’ I’m sorry to tell you that, but he’s scary, Mom, really a sinister old man. He looks at Dad with hatred. And he prowls the house at night. Since I’ve been disabled, my ears have become very sharp. I hear the floorboards in the hall outside my door squeak, and sometimes my door is opened ever so slightly. It’s Joel, I know it’s him.”
“But why would he be peeking in on you?”
“I don’t know.”
I bit down on my lower lip, imitating Bart’s nervous habit. “Now you are frightening me, Jory. I have reasons to think he means harm for all of us, too. I believe it was Joel who smashed the ship you made for Bart, and I truly believe Joel never mailed off those Christmas invitations. He wanted Bart to be hurt, so he took them up to his room, removed the R.S.V.P. cards, signed them as if the invitations were accepted, and then mailed them back to Bart. It’s the only explanation of why no one showed up.”
“Mom . . . why didn’t you tell me this before?”
How could I tell him of all my suspicions about Joel without his reacting much like Chris had? Chris had completely rejected my story of how Joel might have planned to hurt Bart. And sometime
s even I thought I was much too imaginative and gave Joel credit for being more evil than he actually was.
“And what’s more, Jory, I think it was Joel who overheard the servants in the kitchen talking about Cindy meeting that boy, Victor Wade, and he quickly passed that information along to Bart. How else would Bart have known? Servants are to Bart like designs on the wallpaper, not worthy of his notice—it’s Joel who does the eavesdropping so he can report what they say to Bart.”
“Mom . . . I think you could very well be right about the ship, the invitations, and Cindy, too. Joel has something in mind for all of us, and I’m afraid it’s not for our good.”
Deep in thought, Jory had to tell me twice that I should put his son on his lap, to ride on his other leg, and we’d make better progress through the woods. Even one twin was a load to carry for a long distance, and more than willingly I lowered Darren to his father’s lap. Deirdre squealed her delight and hugged her small brother. “Mom, I believe if Toni really loves Bart enough, she’ll stay, no matter what his background—or how much he inherits.”
“Jory . . . that’s exactly what he’s trying to prove.” Around midnight, when I was almost asleep, a soft tapping sounded on my door. It was Toni.
She came in wearing a pretty rosy peignoir, her long dark hair loose and flowing, her long legs appearing as she neared my bed. “I hope you don’t mind, Mrs. Sheffield . . . I waited for a night when your husband wasn’t with you.”
“Call me Cathy,” I said as I sat up and reached for my own robe. “I’m not sleeping. Just lying here thinking, and I appreciate another woman to talk to.”
She began to pace the floor of my large bedroom. “I’ve got to speak to a woman, someone who can understand more readily than a man, so that’s why I’m here.”
“Sit down. I’m ready to listen.” Tentatively she perched on a love seat, twisting a tress of her dark hair over and over, sometimes pulling it in between her lips.
The Flowers in the Attic Series: The Dollangangers: Flowers in the Attic, Petals on the Wind, If There Be Thorns, Seeds of Yesterday, and a New Excerpt! Page 151
