Somehow all that our doctor did for us made Momma seem a thousandfold worse in comparison. Ten thousandfold worse!
The next day was Chris's eighteenth birthday, and though I'd never forget, it surprised me that the doctor had planned a party with many fine gifts that sparkled Chris's eyes, and then saddened them with the guilt both he and I felt. Already we'd accepted so much. Already we had been making plans to leave soon. We just couldn't stay on and take advantage of Dr. Paul's good nature, now that Carrie was well enough to travel on.
After the party Chris and I sat on the back veranda, mulling this over. One look at his face and I could tell he didn't want to leave the one and only man who could, and would, help him reach his goal of becoming a doctor. "I really don't like the way he keeps looking at you, Cathy. His eyes follow you about all the time. Here you are, so available, and men his age find girls your age irresistible."
They did? How fascinating to know. "But doctors have plenty of pretty nurses available to them," I said lamely, knowing I would do anything short of murder, to see that Chris reached his goal. "Remember that day we first came? He spoke of the kind of competition we'd be up against in the circus. Chris, he's right. We can't go work for the circus; that's only a silly dream."
He stared off into space with knitted brows. "I know all of that."
"Chris, he's just lonely. Maybe he only watches me because there isn't anything else as interesting to watch as me." But how fascinating to know that men of forty were susceptible to girls of fifteen. How wonderful to wield over them the power that my mother had.
"Chris, if Dr. Paul says the right thing, I mean, if he really honestly wants us, would you stay on?"
He frowned and studied the hedges he'd so recently clipped. After long consideration he spoke slowly, "Let's give him a test. If we tell him we're leaving, and he doesn't say anything to prevent us, then that will be his polite way to let us know he doesn't really care."
"Is it fair to test him like that?"
"Yes. It's a good way to give him the chance to get rid of us and not feel guilty about it. You know, people like him often do nice things because they feel they should, not because they really want to."
"Oh."
We were not ones to procrastinate. The next evening after dinner, Paul came to join us on the back veranda. Paul. I was calling him that in my thoughts-- getting familiar, liking him more and more because always he looked so casually elegant, so clean, so nice, sitting in his favorite white wicker rocker, wearing a red cable- knit sweater with gray slacks and slowly, dreamily puffing on a cigarette. We three wore sweaters too, for the evening was chilly. Chris perched beside me on the balustrade while Carrie crouched on the top step. Paul's gardens were fabulous. Shallow marble steps nine feet across took you down a few feet to other steps which took you to a higher level. There was a small Japanese footbridge lacquered red, arching over a small stream. There were nude statues of men and women, placed at random, which lent to his gardens an atmosphere of seduction, of worldly sensuality. They were classic nudes. Graceful, and elegantly posed, and yet, and yet . . . I knew that garden for what it was. For I'd been there before in my dreams.
The doctor was telling us, even as the wind turned colder and started to blow dead leaves hither and yon, that he traveled abroad every other year to search out the beautiful marble statues he'd ship home and add to his collection. He'd been so lucky the last time to come across a full-sized copy of Rodin's The Kiss.
I sighed with the wind. I didn't want to go. I liked it here with him, with Henny, with the gardens that held me in thrall and made me feel enchanted, beautiful, desirable.
"So all my roses are old-fashioned roses that haven't had the heady scent bred from them," said Dr. Paul. "Why have roses at all if they don't reek of perfume?"
In the fading, purplish light of the failing day his glimmering eyes met with mine. My pulse quickened and forced another sigh. I wondered what his wife had been like, and how it felt to be loved by someone like him. Guiltily my eyes fled from his long, searching look, afraid he'd see what I was thinking. "You look disturbed, Cathy. Why?" His question teased me, as if he knew already my secrets. Chris turned his head to give me a hard look of warning.
"It's your red sweater," I said foolishly. "Did Henny knit it for you?"
He chuckled softly, then glanced down at the handsome sweater he wore. "No, not Henny. My older sister knitted the sweater for my birthday, then mailed it to me parcel post. She lives on the other side of town."
"Why would your sister mail you a gift and not bring it in person?" I asked. "And why didn't you tell us you had a birthday? We would have given you gifts too."
"Well," he began, settling back comfortably and crossing his legs, "my birthday came and went shortly before you arrived. I'm forty in case Henny hasn't told you. I've been a widower thirteen years, and my sister, Amanda, has not spoken to me since the day my wife and young son died in an accident." His voice faded away and he stared off into space, moody, solemn, distant.
Dead leaves scuttled on the lawn, chased over the porch and came to nestle near my feet, like brown, dried-up ducklings. All this took me back to a certain forbidden night when Chris and I had so desperately prayed while we huddled on the cold slate roof under a moon that looked like the scowling eye of God. Would there be a price to pay for just one terrible sin committed? Would there? The grandmother would quickly say, yes! You deserve the worst punishment! Devil's spawn, I knew it all along!
And while I sat there floundering Chris spoke up. "Doctor, Cathy and I have been talking this over, and we feel now that Carrie is well we should be leaving. We deeply appreciate everything you've done, and we intend to repay you every cent, though it may take us a few years. . . ." His fingers squeezed tight around mine, warning me not to say anything di
fferent.
"Hold on there, Chris," interrupted the doctor, jerking upright in his chair and planting both his feet solidly on the floor. Clearly he meant business. "Don't think for one minute I haven't seen this coming. I've dreaded each morning, fearful I'd wake up to find you gone."
"I've been looking into the legal ramifications of making the three of you my wards. And I've found out it isn't as complicated as I thought. It seems most children who run away say they're orphans, so you'll have to give me proof your father is really dead. If he's alive, I would need his consent, as well as your mother's."
My breath caught! My mother's consent? That meant we'd have to see her again! I didn't want to see her, not ever!
He went on, his eyes soft as they saw my distress. "The court would petition your mother to appear at a hearing. If she lived in this state she'd be forced to comply in three days, but since she's in Virginia, they'll give her three weeks. If she doesn't show up, then instead of having only temporary custody of you, I will be granted permanent custody-- but only if you're willing to say I've done a good job as a guardian."
"You've been wonderful!" I cried out. "But she won't come! She wants to keep us a secret! If the world finds out about us, she'll lose all that money. Her husband might turn against her too if he knew she'd hidden us away. You can bet your life if you dare to try for permanent custody, you'll get it--and you might be sorry in the end!"
Chris's hand tightened more on mine, and Carrie looked up with huge, scared eyes.
"In a few weeks Christmas will be here. Are you going to leave me to spend another lonely holiday by myself? You've been here for almost three weeks, and I've explained to everyone who asked that you were the children of a relative of mine who died recently. I'm not going into this blindly. Henny and I have given this a great deal of thought. She feels, just as I feel, that the three of you are good for us. We both want you to stay on. Having young people in the house makes it more like a home. I feel healthier than I have in years, and happier too. Since the death of my wife and son, I've missed having a family. In all this time I've never gotten used to being a bachelor again." His persuasive tone grew wistful. feel fate wants me to have custody of you. I feel God planned for Henny to be on the bus, just so she could bring you to me. When fate steps in and makes the decisions, who am Ito deny it? I accept the fact you three are godsent to help me make up for the mistakes I've made in the past."