Jillian seemed pleased that I kept so busy I had little time to share her lifestyle, which included one social or charity affair after another. And all the togetherness I had believed once she and I would share faded with the realization we would never be close. She was not going to love me, or let herself grow attached so she might miss me later on. Oh, I knew her now, only too well.
I sneaked over to visit Troy as often as I could--which wasn't that often, since I had the feeling that even though I didn't see her, Jillian was quite aware of exactly where I was. I also went into Boston frequently to go to the library and to the museums. A few times I went by The Red Feather and B.U. hoping to "accidentally" run into Logan, but I didn't once see him. Perhaps he'd returned to Winnerrow for the holidays. And that's when the tears would start to come. For Logan hadn't even sent me a Christmas card, neither had anyone in my family. Sometimes I felt that Farthinggale Manor was as impoverished as the Willies--only in a different way. For here there was a dearth of love, and caring, and sharing, and joy. Even in our rickety cabin we'd known those things. Here all that was given was money, and, much as I longed for it, I was beginning to crave love and affection even more.
February arrived with my eighteenth birthday, which Tony and Jillian still believed was my seventeenth. Tony arranged everything for that birthday party given in my honor. "Invite all those snobby Winterhaven girls and we'll knock their eyes out." And, finally, all the Winterhaven girls had thei
r chance to gawk at the splendors of Farthinggale Manor. The lavish food spread on a table took my breath away. The gifts given to me that year left me even more breathless, and feeling strangely guilty. For how was the rest of my family faring?
The success of that party impressed those silly girls so much, I was finally accepted as good enough to be treated decently.
In early March such a terrible storm blew in I was trapped at home the Monday I was due to be driven back to Winterhaven. Tony and Jillian were, out of town, giving me the perfect opportunity to use the underground tunnel that connected Farthinggale Manor to Troy's cottage. Breathlessly I arrived, having run all the scary, dim way, making a great bit of noise as I climbed his cellar stairs, just to tell him I was coming up. Busy, as always, still he seemed to be expecting my visit, lifting his head from his work to smile my way, "Glad you're here. You can keep an eye on the bread in the oven until I finish what I've started."
Later, he and I settled down before a log fire, and I handed him one of his own books of poems. "Please read them to me." He didn't want to, and tried to put the book away, but I kept insisting. Relenting, he read. I heard the emotions in his voice, heard the sadness, and I wanted to cry. I didn't know much about poetry, but he did string words together in unique and beautiful ways. I told him this.
"That's the trouble with all my poems," he responded with unfamiliar impatience. He tossed the slender volume away. "Everything I write is too sweet and too pretty . . ."
"Not sweet," I objected, jumping up to retrieve the book. "But I don't understand what you're trying to say. I feel an undercurrent of something morbid and dark in all your words, though you put them together beautifully. If you won't tell me what your poems mean, let me have this book to read over and over again until I understand your meaning."
"It would be smarter if you didn't try to understand." His dark eyes for a second seemed tormented. Then they brightened. "It's wonderful to have you here, Heaven. I admit I hide my loneliness in work. Now I can hardly wait for you to show up." And because we were sitting side by side, very close, on impulse my head rested against his shoulder, even as my face turned, my lips more than ready for his first kiss. His pupils enlarged as I waited and waited, growing tense when he took so long. Then, sharply, he drew away, leaving me bewildered.
Feeling rejected, soon I made some flimsy excuse about having to do my homework. Here I was losing again! I could do nothing right to please any man enough! Angry with him, even angrier with myself, I returned to Farthy to swim in the warm water of the indoor pool. Back and forth across the long pool twenty times, and still I couldn't swim my anger away. I dressed, and while my hair was still wet I read before a huge hearth with a blazing fire made just for me. Prone on the floor I stared at the open, leather-bound volume, filled with random
unhappiness that wouldn't allow me to concentrate on the written words.
All about me dead ancestors of the Tattertons fixed watchful eyes on my every movement. I thought I heard their painted lips whispering that I didn't belong here, and why didn't I leave and not sully their reputations with my Casteel heritage! It was silly, I knew that, and yet the library, with its rich leather chairs, seemed hostile. And the first thing I knew, I was getting up from the floor and heading toward the stairs and the cozy familiarity of my own rooms.
Halfway down the hall in my wing I faintly heard my phone ringing. My heartbeats quickened. No one ever called me. Maybe it was Troy! Logan! Maybe . . .
Slamming the door behind me, I ran to answer before the rings stopped.
"Heaven, is it ya? Really ya?" asked a twangy country voice I knew only too well. Relief and happiness like warm wine flooded through me. "It's me, Heaven, yer sista Fanny! An ya know what, I'm a motha! Had my baby jus' two hours ago! It came early, bout three weeks, an I neva thought anythin' so normal could hurt so blessed much! I yelled an screamed an t'nurses tried t'hold me down, an Mrs. Wise ordered me t'be quiet or t'whole world would hear me yellin . . . but that were an easy thin' fer her t'say when it was me who was havin her baby. ."
"Oh, Fanny, thank God you called! I've been so worried about you! Why didn't you call before?"
"Why I done called ya a hundred times, I have, an nobody there understands what I say. Or who I want t'talk ta. What's wrong with 'em? They talk funny, like ya do now. Did ya hear me say I had a baby girl?"
What was that catch I heard in her voice? Regrets? Sorry now she'd schemed with the Reverend and his wife to have a baby for ten thousand dollars? "Fanny, tell me, are you all right? Where are you?"
"Sure I'm fine, jus' fine. Weren't nothin t'it once it were ova. An she's so t'prettiest lii ole girl with black hair that's curly an everythin'. Got two of what she should have, an none of what she shouldn't. An t'Reverend is sure gonna be so happy when he sees her . . ."
"Fanny, where are you? Please tell me! It's not too late to change your mind. You can refuse to accept the money and then you can keep your baby, and when you're older you'll never have regrets for selling your own child. Now please listen to me! I can send you the money you need to fly to Boston. My grandfather won't take you in, but I could put you up in a nice rooming house, and do what I can to support you and your baby." I was endangering my own precarious situation, but I did it on pure instinct, alarmingly homesick to see Fanny again.
For a moment or so her deep silence on the other end made me think she was giving my alternative serious thought, and then came her decision. "Tom done tole me bout where ya'll live. An iffen yer gonna invite me an my baby t'come an t'stay, ya gotta invite me t'where ya live in a house big as a palace! Wid more bathrooms than ya kin count! Don't ya go insultin' me an my baby with no roornin' house, or motel room! Not when I'm jus' as good as ya are . . ."
"Fanny, be reasonable. I wrote and told Tom that my grandparents have eccentric ideas. Why, Jillian doesn't even want anyone to know that I am her granddaughter!"
"She mus' be crazy!" came Fanny's loud and instant decision. "Nobody so ole kin look so young as ya tole Tom . . . now ya go on an invite me, Heaven! Crazy people like her won't know no difference! Iffen ya don't, I'm sellin' my baby an takin' off fer Nashville or New York City!"
At that moment I heard the deep, sonorous rumble of the Reverend Wayland Wise's voice as he came into the hospital room and greeted Fanny. And so help me God, Fanny slammed the receiver down and didn't even say goodbye!
I was left with the dial tone, realizing she hadn't given me her address. Still she had mine, and my phone number.
Fanny, oh Fanny. She was doing the same thing Pa had done--selling her own child. Oh, how could she do it! Even though Fanny was capable of being a selfish and heartless girl, I knew she'd regret selling her little baby. I just knew it. And I also knew that I could help her. I had money now, and I could find a way to support her and the baby, to buy it back from the Wises. But I couldn't invite Fanny here to live. If I did, I'd be tossed out myself, and I would lose all I had gained. For I'd learned that I had been accepted at Radcliffe, and Tony had already promised that I could count on him to put me through school, and I could stay at Farthinggale Manor or live on campus, whichever I prefered. Could I give all that up for Fanny? No, I couldn't. For Fanny was a confused girl, I rationalized, and it would take her a while to realize what she was doing was wrong. When she did, she would come to me for help. I knew that as surely as I knew it was snowing. And with a certain amount of relief to know that Fanny had come through her first delivery safely, and that someday she would come to me and I would help her to get her child back, I read until it was time to go to bed.
Sleep was a hard-won prize this night. I was an aunt! I wished I dared to call Tom this second, and tell him Fanny's news. But Pa might be the one to pick up the telephone.
The very next day I telephoned Tom, risking the chance my father would answer. "Hi," said my brother's voice, making me sigh with relief. "Oh, good golly gosh-jeebers!" he cried when he heard my news. "It's great news to know Fanny is all right, and terrible to
think she's really going to sell her very own baby! It's like history repeating itself. But you can't risk your future for her, Heavenly, you just can't! You keep your mouth shut about Fanny and the rest of us. We'll see you again, all of us, even Keith and Our Jane, now that you have set those lawyers on their trail."