"Who?" I asked, bewildered by the quick turn of his suspicions.
"Cal Dennison!"
"No!" I cried out again. "I have not heard from him since the day I left Winnerrow! He doesn't know where I am! I never want to see him again."
"I'm sure he'll find out where you are." Logan's voice had gone flat. He picked up his mug and drained it to the bottom, then set it down hard so it clunked loudly on the table. "It's been nice seeing you again, Heaven, and knowing you now have everything you wanted. I'm sorry your real grandfather died before you knew him, and happy you like your stepgrandfather so much. I have to admit you look very beautiful in your fine clothes and fur coat, but you're not the same girl I fell in love with. That girl was destroyed in Candlewick."
Stunned and deeply hurt, so much so I felt mortally wounded, I was speechless. My lips gaped, and I wanted to plead for him to give me another chance. Hot, blinding tears stung my eyes. I struggled to find the right words to say, but already he'd turned away and was heading for the girl who still waited for him at the table by the window. Without once looking back, he joined her.
And all the care I had used in getting ready for this meeting, hoping to impress him, had been totally wasted. I should have come wearing my rags, with my long hair disheveled, with hollows from hunger shadowing beneath my eyes--then maybe he'd have shown more compassion.
Then it hit me, hard, the truth I'd never suspected until today.
Logan had never truly loved me! Logan had only pitied a waif from the hills and had wanted to shower me protectively with the largess of his generosity! He had considered me a charity case!
It all came flooding back, his small gifts of toothbrushes and toothpaste, soaps and shampoos, all taken from the shelves of his father's pharmacy. Oh, the embarrassment of his condescending pity filled me with shame! The regrets for having allowed myself to believe he saw in me something admirable! I brushed impatiently at the hot well of tears that flooded onto my face and down over my cheeks; then, jumping to my feet, I seized my purse and fur coat and fled toward the door, moving faster than he did. In another second I was outside, pulling on my coat as I ran. Ran from the very one I'd always run to!
The snow was coming down slantwise in streaks, wild and wind-driven. It was freezing cold as I struggled to put on that full-length fur coat. My breath puffed out in billows of vapor as I choked and sobbed and wanted to die. Right behind me I heard the sound of Logan's steps. Whipping around, my coat fanning wide in the wind, I glared with hatred straight into his look of concern that came too late.
"You don't have to pity me anymore, Logan Grant Stonewall!" I shouted into the wind, heedless of who overheard my words. "No wonder I betrayed you unconsciously with Cal Dennison! Perhaps my instinct knew exactly what your true feeling for me was! Not love, not admiration, and not genuine friendship--or anything I really need and want for myself. So you were right to suggest that we call it quits! It is all over between us! I never want to see you again as long as I live! Go back to Winnerrow and find some other hil
lbilly poverty case from the Willies!--and give her the blessings of your detestable pity!"
I whirled around and ran for the nearest corner, where I quickly waved down a taxi.
Goodbye, Logan, I sobbed to myself as the taxi pulled away from the curb. It was tender and sweet when I thought you loved me for myself, but from this day forward, not think of you again!
You have even managed to make me feel guilty about Troy, and you don't even know about him. Dear, wonderful, talented, handsome Troy, who was not at all like Cal Dennison, who never excited me at all.
Ten Promises
. SCALDING TEARS WERE STILL
FLOWING WHEN MY CAB passed under the impressive black gates of Farthinggale Manor--tears that choked my voice so I had difficulty telling the driver where he had to turn off in order to reach the small cottage where I hoped Troy would be.
I was running to the only remaining friend I had, almost blinded by my tears, grieving inside as if everyone I'd ever lost had been taken away anew, and the grief was compounded over and over. Always a small but confident part of me had believed that Logan was eternally and rightfully mine, and because of that I could somehow win him back.
Nothing was eternal! Nothing was right! my disappointment screamed. Nothing!
"Twelve dollars and fifty cents," said the taxi driver, waiting impatiently as I dabbed at my eyes and tried to count out the exact amount. However, I had only a twenty, and I thrust that into his hands and quickly left the warmth of the back seat.
"Keep the change," I croaked hoarsely.
Snow, sharp as tiny ice swords, slashed at my face. The wind was wild and tore at my hair as I ran blindly for the cottage. Without regard for Troy's privacy I tugged to open the blue door, but the wind was behind me, making opening it difficult. When finally I had it open and was able to step inside, the wind slammed the door behind me with a loud, crashing bang. Startled into reality by the noise, I leaned back against the door and tried to gain some control of my emotions.
"Who's there?" called Troy from another room, and then he appeared in the frame of his bedroom doorway, his naked body wrapped by a towel swathed about his hips, and water stood in droplets on his skin. His dark hair was wet and matted. "Heaven!" he exclaimed, his eyes startled by my sudden and dramatic appearance. He raised the towel in his hands to dry his hair vigorously. "Come in, sit down, make yourself at home, and give me a minute to put on some clothes."
Not a word to say he didn't need me, or to reprimand me for coming without an invitation. Just his troubled smile, before he turned and disappeared.
Despair heavied my legs, making them feel nailed to the floor. I was making too much of this, I knew I was, and still I couldn't catch my breath enough to control the gasps that sounded as if they came from someone other than myself. I was still leaning against the door, my arms pressed backward as my fingers clutched at the wood for stability, when Troy came striding from his room, fully clothed in his white silk blouse and his tight black trousers. His hair, still slightly damp, lay in shiny waves to frame his face.
Compared to Logan's ruddy color and deep tan, Troy seemed extraordinarily pale.
He advanced my way without speaking, and gently caught hold of my hands, pulling me away from the door, taking my purse from my shoulder before he eased off my heavy, wet fur coat. "Now, now," he soothed, "nothing can be that bad, can it? On a beautiful snowy day like this, with the wind howling and telling you to stay indoors, there's nothing as cozy as a crackling fire, and good food to eat, and a pleasant companion to be with." He put me in a chair he drew close to his fire, then knelt to take off my boots, and with his hands he rubbed my cold, nyloned feet into warmth again.
I felt tired enough to sag in the chair, my eyes wide and stark as the tears eventually stopped coming. My chest lost some of the heavy weight that gave it terrible pain. Only then could I look around. No lamps were lit, just the cheery glow of the fire to throw pattetiiS of dancing lights and shadows on the walls. And as I looked around, Troy stayed on his knees, staring up at me as he pulled a hassock closer. Lifting my legs, he put my feet on that before he covered me to my waist with a bright wool afghan. "Now it's time for the food," he said with a small smile of approval, watching me dab at the last tear with my frivolous small handkerchief. Every tissue in my purse had already been used. "Coffee, tea, wine, hot chocolate?"
The mention of hot chocolate immediately brought fresh tears to my eyes. Alarmed, he quickly suggested, "A bit of brandy to warm you up first. Then hot tea, how about that?"