Still he said nothing.
"Cindy," spoke up Chris, who'd remained quiet during our evening meal, "apologize to Bart."
"No."
"Then get up and leave the table, and eat in your room until you can learn to speak pleasantly."
Her eyes flashed balefully again, this time at Chris. "ALL RIGHT! I'll go to my room--but tomorrow I'm leaving this house and I'm never coming back! NOT EVER!"
Finally Bart had something to say. "The best news I've heard in years."
Cindy was in tears before she reached the dining room archway. I didn't jump up to follow her this time. I sat on, pretending nothing was amiss. Always in the past I'd shielded Cindy, chastised Bart, but I was seeing him with new eyes. The son I'd never known had facets that weren't all dark and dangerous.
"Why don't you go to Cindy, as you always have in the past, Mother?" asked Bart, as if
challenging me.
"I haven't finished my dinner, Bart. And Cindy has to learn to respect the opinions of others."
He sat staring at me as if completely taken off guard.
Early the next morning, Cindy stormed into our room without knocking, catching me wrapped in a towel, fresh from my bath, and Chris was still shaving. "Mom, Dad, I'm leaving," she said stiffly. "I won't enjoy myself here. I'm wondering why I even bothered to come back. It's clear you've decided to take Bart's side on every issue, and if that's the case, then I'm finished. I'll be twenty next April, and that's old enough not to need a family."
Her eyes smeared with the tears that came unbidden. Her voice turned small and broken. "I want to say thanks to both of you for being wonderful parents when I was little and needed someone like both of you. I'm going to miss you and Daddy, and Jory and Darren and Deirdre, but every time I come here, I leave feeling sick. If ever you decide to live somewhere far from Bart, maybe you'll see me again . ... maybe."
"Oh, Cindy!" I cried, rushing to embrace her. "Don't leave!"
"No, Momma," she said staunchly. "I'm going back to New York. My friends there will throw me a party, the best kind. They do everything better in New York. '
But her tears were coming faster, harder. Chris wiped his face free of shaving lather and came to hug her close. "I can understand how you feel, Cindy. Bart can be irritating, but you did go too far last night. In a way you were very funny, but sadly, he can't see that. You have to judge whom you can tease, and whom you cannot. You've outgrown Bart, Cindy. And we won't object if you want to leave so soon. But, before you go, we want you to know your mother and I are taking Jory and his children, and Toni, too, and moving to Charlottesville. We'll find a large house there and settle down in the midst of people, so when you come again, you won't be lonely, and Bart will still be here, high on this hill and far from you."
Sobbing, she clutched Chris. "I'm sorry, Daddy. I was nasty to him, but he always says such mean things to me, and I have to hit back or feel like a door mat. I don't like for him to wipe his feet on me--and he is like a sewer, he is."
"Someday I hope you'll see him differently," said Chris softly, tilting up her pretty tear-stained face and kissing her lightly. "So kiss your mother, say goodbye to Jory, Toni, Darren and Deirdre . . . but don't say you won't come back to see us again. That would make us both very unhappy. You give us a great deal of joy, and nothing should spoil that."
I helped Cindy pack the clothes she'd just unpacked. And even as we did this together, I saw that she was undecided and wanted to stay on if only I'd plead. Unfortunately we'd left her door open, and I looked around to see Joel standing in the doorway watching us.
Joel turned pale eyes on Cindy. "Why are you red-eyed, little girl?"
"I'm not a little girl!" she screamed. She turned wrathful eyes on him. "You're in league with him, aren't you? You help make him what he is. You stand there and gloat because I'm packing my bags, don't you? Glad I'm leaving--but before I go, I'm telling you off, too, old man. And I don't care if my parents scold me for not showing respect for old age." She stepped closer, her posture dominating his cringing form. "I hate you, old man! Hate you for preventing my brother from being normal, and he could have been without you! I HATE YOU!"
Hearing this, Chris, who'd been seated near the window, became furious. "Cindy, why? You could have gone and said nothing." Joel had disappeared by this time, leaving Cindy staring at Chris, bleak-eyed. "Cindy," Chris said softly, reaching out to caress her hair. "Joel is an old man dying of cancer. He won't be around much longer."
"What do you mean?" she asked. "He looks healthier than when he came."
"Perhaps he's had a remission. He refuses to see a doctor and won't let me check him over. He says he's resigned to dying soon. So, I take him at his word."
"I expect now you want me to apologize to him-- well, I won't! I meant every word! That time in New York, when Bart was so happy with Toni, and they seemed so much in love, we were at a party, when suddenly an old man appeared that looked like Joel-- and instantly Bart changed. He turned mean, hateful, like a spell had been cast, he began to criticize my clothes, Toni's pretty dress that he said was shameless . . . and only a few minutes before, he'd complimented the way she looked in that very same dress. So don't tell me that Joel doesn't have a great deal to do with Bart's nutty behavior."
Instantly I was with Cindy. "You see, Chris. Cindy believes just as I do. If Joel weren't here using his influence, Bart would straighten out. Drive Joel out, Chris, before it's too late."
"Yes, Daddy, make that old man leave. Pay him off, get rid of him."
"And what do I say to Bart?" asked Chris, looking from one to the other of us. "Don't you realize he has to be the one who sees Joel for what he is? We can't tell him Joel's not a healthy influence. Bart has to discover that for himself."
Soon after this we drove to Richmond to see that Cindy caught a plane back to New York. In another week she was moving to Hollywood to try and begin a film career. "I won't be coming to Foxworth Hall again; Momma," she repeated. "I love you, and I love Dad, even if he is angry with me for speaking my mind. Tell Jory again that I love him and his children. But hate and ugly thoughts come into my mind the minute I step inside that house. Leave there, Momma. Daddy. Leave before it's too late."
Numbly I nodded.