Casteel 05 Web of Dreams (10 page)

It was a partly cloudy morning, but to me it was dismal and gray. The sea breeze felt like a snowman's breath against my cheeks, making the warm tears cold instantly. I closed my coat around
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Myself and started for the gangplank when I felt someone pull my arm.
It was Clara Spenser and her sister Melanie. Their parents were right behind them and they were all so close to each other, their mother resting her hand on Clara's shoulder and their father resting his hand on Melanie's. It was like a family portrait with a caption underneath that read, THE HAPPY FAMILY.
"Goodbye, Leigh," Clara said. "We'll write to you."
"Bye. I'll write back," I called ad started away. I wanted to run away from them.
"Leigh!" Clara yelled. "It was fun, but isn't it wonderful to be home again?"
I just waved and hurried on to the car as fast as I could. My bags had already been loaded.
"Is my mother all right?" I asked. Perhaps she was so upset over what she had done, she was sick in bed at home, I thought, hopefully.
"Oh, yes. She called me this morning and sounded fine. You were lucky to be away; it's been so cold here this past week. Did you have a nice time?" he asked when I didn't reply.
"Yes," I said and turned to look back as we drove off. I could see Daddy on the bridge talking with Captain Willshaw, but he stopped in the middle of his conversation and looked my way. I waved from the window. He lifted his hand slowly and held it up like a flag of surrender and defeat.
Clarence came out to greet me and fetch my luggage as soon as we drove up, but Momma was nowhere to be seen. I rushed into the house and called for her, demanded her.
"MOMMA! MOMMA! WHERE ARE YOU?"
Clarence came up behind me with my bags.
"Mrs. VanVoreen went for a ride to the seashore this morning," he said. "She has not yet returned."
"What? The seashore? But . . . didn't she know I would be back this morning?" I shot out. Clarence looked overwhelmed by the ferocity with which I demanded answers to my questions.
"I'll just bring your luggage to your room, Miss Leigh." He started up the staircase. Confused, I just stood there for a few moments. My gaze fell on the doorway to Daddy's office. He won't be using it anymore, I thought, my throat aching. What would Momma do now--just close it up? I knew how much she hated that room the way it was.
But for me it suddenly became as precious as a church. I stepped into it and gazed at Daddy's things. I inhaled the scents--the aroma of his tobacco still lingered, as did the smell of the driftwood and the old furniture and carpet. Even though much of it was worn and faded, it was beautiful to me because it was Daddy.
In my mind I could see him crouched over his desk, the thin column of smoke rising from the bowl of his carved pipe, the first pipe his father had given him. On the front right corner of his desk was a model of
The Jillian.
He had been so proud of it, so proud of naming it after Momma. The rest of his desk looked as cluttered and as disorganized as ever, but now the sight of it heartened me, because it meant he would have to come back soon to get his important papers.
I walked out slowly and slowly went up the stairs. Clarence was coming down. He seemed very anxious to get away from me.
"Everything's in your room, Miss Leigh."
"Thank you, Clarence. Oh Clarence," I called after he had gone past me.
"Yes?"
"Didn't my mother leave any word as to when she would return?"
"Thank you, Clarence." I continued upstairs and went into my room.
How different my world looked to roe now. I had been so anxious to hurry home, to get back to my own, precious room and sleep in my own bed, cuddling the stuffed animals given to me over the years. I had looked forward to calling my friends and finding out all the news I had missed while I was on the cruise. I had wanted to tell them about Fulton and Raymond; and the shows and the dances and being kissed by one boy and exchanging addresses with both. but none of that mattered now; none of that was important anymore.
I felt like someone who had been hypnotized. Mechanically, I unpacked, sifting through my clothing and separating those things that had to be cleaned and washed from those that didn't. Then I sat on ray bed like one in a daze. Finally, out of curiosity and boredom, I got up and went into Momma's suite.
She had still not returned. There was nothing different about her bedroom. Her long vanity table was still cluttered with her creams and makeup, her brushes and combs.
And she hadn't put away her and Daddy's wedding picture! The two of them were still there, encased in that solid gold frame, both looking young and happy, Momma so beautiful, Daddy so handsome and distinguished.
The word "divorce" had such a mystical ring to it for me.
I had half imagined that now that Momma had gotten a divorce from Daddy, the house itself had undergone some enchantment as if divorce put us all in the grip of some sorceress. The house would be different; the servants would be different; Momma and Daddy would certainly be different; and I . . . I was still afraid of how I would change.
I started out of Momma's suite, but stopped in the sitting room when something on Momma's desk caught my eye. It looked like a pile of books containing samples from a printing company. We had nothing to celebrate soon, no birthdays, and certainly, no anniversaries now. What was Momma doing: planning to announce her divorce? I approached the desk and opened the first book of samples.
At first it made no sense at all, but my heart understood faster than my mind, for it began to thump so hard, it took my breath away. The pounding sounded like thunder in my mind. I choked back my tears, tears that had been threatening to burst forth from the moment I entered my house, and I continued to thumb through the books. They were all the same.
They were all samples of wedding invitations!

Momma didn't come home for hours. I went up to my room and waited and waited until I heard her entering the house. Her laughter preceded her footsteps on the stairway. I couldn't imagine how or why she would be in such a jolly mood. The world was crumpling around us and her voice rang out with a musical cadence as if it were Christmas morning or the morning of her birthday. I stepped out of my room just as she reached the top of the stairway.

She looked just as beautiful as ever, if anything her beauty had flourished since she had left Daddy and me. She seemed invigorated, full of life and energy, her eyes sparkling, her soft, golden hair glistening under the white fur cap. She was wearing her white mink coat, the one Daddy had imported from Russia. Her cheeks were rosy, having been caressed by the crisp November air. I didn't realize until I saw her how much I had wanted to see her sickly and pale, ravaged by the decision she had made.

Her burst of exuberance and her brightness overwhelmed me. I could just stand and stare. But Momma's face wasn't drawn, her eyes weren't bloodshot, she instead looked like someone who had been liberated from a dark and dismal castle dungeon, unchained and free to be young and lovely and alive once more. She misunderstood my look of surprise and sadness.

"Oh Leigh, I'm so sorry I wasn't here when you arrived, but you'd never believe the traffic." She smiled as if she expected me to forget everything horrible instantly.

Where were you?"
"Where was I? I was at Farthy," she sang and
started for her suite. "You know how undependable
those dockings can be . . . half hour late, an hour late.
Something's always going wrong. I could just
envision myself stuck in that stuffy automobile,
waiting, waiting, waiting." She turned back to flash a
quick smile. "I didn't think you would mind and it's so
much nicer out at the seashore today," she said as she
took off her hat and coat. "There, the sky is all blue,"
she added and threw her fur coat over one of the
Rococo chairs. "But it's always blue there to me, even
when it's gray," she whispered, making her sentence
sound like the words from a love song.
Then, still wearing her fur cap, she fell back
over her bed and flung her arms to her sides as she
bounced on the mattress. I had never seen her so
cheerful. She seemed years younger, more like one of
my girlfriends, silly and full of giggles. Her eyes were
twinkling as she smiled up at the ceiling. I stood there
speechless, staring down at her. Could it be that she
was unaware Daddy had told me everything? "Daddy told me about your telegram," I blurted. She looked up at me, her smile slowly fading,
the glimmer in her eyes dying. The vigor and
brightness lifted from her face. It was as if she were
coming back to earth, back to reality. Her eyes grew
cold, her mouth tight. She took a deep breath and sat
up slowly and with great effort. Then she took off her
cap, unpinned her hair and shook her head to let the
strands fall free.
"He was supposed to leave it to me to tell you,"
she said with remarkable calmness. "But I'm not
surprised. I'm sure he put it all horribly, making it
sound like the failure of some business venture. What
did he tell you, our marriage was bankrupt?" "Oh no, Momma, Daddy is heartbroken," I
cried. She smirked and got up to go to her vanity
table. "Did you really go to Mexico and get a divorce?" Some stupid childish part of me was still
hoping beyond hope that perhaps it wasn't all true. "Yes, Leigh, I did. And I'm not sorry." Her
words felt like needles being poked in all over my
body.
"But why did you do it? How can you do it?" I
screamed, enraged at my mother. I hated how little
she seemed to care about how I was affected by her
selfish decision. She sat down and turned to me. "Leigh, I was hoping you would be adult about
all this now," she said calmly, but firmly. "I have been
wanting to do this for some time, but I held off until I
thought you were old enough to deal with it on a
mature level. I've gone through months, years of
added suffering just so you would be old enough to
understand when I took this action," she added and
shook her head as if she had just slipped out from
under some terribly heavy load.
"Well I don't understand," I snapped. "I'll never
understand. Never." I hoped that my words fell like
daggers. She pulled her shoulders back and her eyes
widened with fire.
"Exactly what did your father tell you?" "That you left us to think things over and he
received a telegram from you that you had flown to
Mexico to get a divorce."
"And did he tell you why?"
"He said you were very disappointed in him
and you were still young and wanted a chance to be
happy. But why can't you be happy with Daddy?" I
moaned.
"Now Leigh, you've got to try to understand my
point of view. It should be easier for you to
understand now that you are becoming a woman
yourself.
"You don't know, you can't imagine what it's
been like for me these last few years. Whenever your
father takes me on one of his cruises it's been because
he wanted to make an impression . . to use me for his
own advantage. I've felt like a caged bird, encased in a
gilded cage, yes, but nevertheless, imprisoned."
Imprisoned?
What did she mean? She could
come and go as she wanted, buy whatever she wanted,
do whatever she wanted. We had such a beautiful
home, I couldn't imagine anyone thinking of it as a
prison.
"The other passengers pity me, Leigh. I see it in
their faces." She threaded her fingers through her hair
madly. "They know I rarely do what they can do
anytime they want. I hate their pity! I hate it!" She clenched her hands into small fists and pounded the
tops of her thighs.
"It's been this way for years and years and I've
tried to keep my sanity just so you would grow up in a
happy home, but I can't sacrifice any more. I won't! I
won't give up what is so precious and fleeting--my
youth and my beauty. I won't wilt away like some
flower closed off from the sun.
"I belong out there on the dance floors, at the
operas and the theater, at the seashore resorts, at the
parties with my picture being taken for the society
pages.
"Do you have any idea how many affairs I had
to miss because your father was too busy to attend?
Do you?" She then took a breath. Her face was scarlet
and her eyes were screwed so tight that I was
frightened. I was stunned by her outburst. Never had I
imagined she harbored such resentment and despair. I wanted to hate her for what she was doing to
Daddy and to me, but seeing her in such a state, her
eyes bulging, her hair pulled out, her face red with
frustration, all I could think was that this terrifying
creature wasn't my mother.
"Daddy is sorry about all that. He really is." "I'm sure he is . . . for the moment, but tomorrow some crisis at his business will take up his attention and he will forget what has happened
between us."
"No, Momma, he won't. Can't you let him try
again? Can't you?" I pleaded.
"I have let him try again, Leigh. Many, many
times. This didn't just start recently. It started almost
as soon as we got married.
"Oh," she said sighing and sitting back, "it
wasn't so bad in the early years because you were
born right away and I had you to care for and your
father was very attentive and quite devoted to me. Of
course, he was twelve years younger then, but you
must remember, he was already well along in his
years. I bet you never realized that he is old enough to
be my father."
The idea was so preposterous and strange that I
almost laughed, but she didn't crack a smile. Daddy,
her father? My grandfather?
"His age has caught up with him. I admit this is
all partly my fault because I agreed to marry him, but
I was so young and so unhappy then that I didn't think
of what the future would be like.
"And your father made all sorts of wonderful
promises . . . promises he has never kept . . . promises
he can't even remember having made!"
"But you were so in love. You told me so
yourself." My little lifeboat of hope was sinking
rapidly. Everything she told me punched holes in it. "I was young; I didn't know what love was
then." She smiled. "But now, now I understand.
Completely," she added, the brightness and sparkle
returning to her face. "Oh Leigh. . . Leigh," she cried,
"don't hate me, but I'm in love, really and truly in
love."
"What?" I looked back toward the sitting room
and thought about those invitations. "You've fallen in
love with someone else? Those sample invitations . ."
I muttered, the realization falling over me like icecold rain.
"You saw them?"
I nodded.
"Well you might as well know it all," she said,
pulling herself up firmly. "I'm in love with Tony
Tatterton and he is madly in love with me, and we're
going to have a Christmas wedding and live at
Farthy!" All at once the face that had seemed a
monster version of my beautiful Momma relaxed.
Then she smiled, her eyes filled with happiness. Even though I had anticipated something like this, actually hearing her say these words was devastating. I felt my face whiten and drain. A combination of shock and sorrow numbed my legs and nailed my feet to the floor. I couldn't speak, couldn't swallow. I think my breathing stopped and my heart froze. It was as if two giant hands of ice had
clasped over my chest.
"You must not hate me and you must try to
understand, Leigh. Please. I'm speaking to you as one
woman to another."
"But Momma, how could you fall in love with
someone else?" My mind was racing about, trying to
understand. When I recalled the way Momma and
Tony had been dancing together at the Bon Voyage
Ball, every moment he held her there, every look he
gave her had more meaning, had its true meaning. I
had felt something when I went to Farthy with her and
saw the way they walked together and whispered, but
I had not understood what it was I had felt. Why is it
the heart knows things so much quicker than the
mind? I wondered. Perhaps I didn't want to know,
didn't want to understand. Now, I had no choice. "It's not hard to understand why or how this
happened, Leigh. Tony adores me, worships me. He
says I'm like some mythical goddess who has descended from the heavens above to make his life worthwhile, for even men with all his money and power feel incomplete if they don't have a woman to
love and a woman who can love them.
"Love, true love, is what makes life fulfilling,
Leigh. This is something you will understand, and
when you do, you will appreciate all the things I am
telling you.
"Can I tell you more? Will you listen like a best
friend, a close girlfriend? I've never had a truly good
friend. I grew up with two terrible sisters who were
always so jealous of me, would never tell them one
good thing or share one good feeling with them.
Leigh?"
"I'm your best friend, Momma. I . . just . ." "Oh good," she said, her eyes taking on a
faraway look. "The first time I set eyes on Tony and
he set eyes on me, it was as if the clouds were swept
off the blue sky. Everything became more vivid, more
alive around me. Colors brightened, birds sang, and
the breeze, no matter how cool, was refreshing and
soft. I couldn't wait to awaken every morning and get
myself to Farthy, just so I would be around him, hear
his voice, and feel his eyes on me.
"That's what love is, Leigh, true love." She reached out for me. Her words were so magical, her thoughts so wonderful, I couldn't help but step closer
until she could take my hand and look into my eyes. "I knew he had opened his heart to me and that
I had found a place there. Whenever he spoke to me,
his voice grew so soft, so loving. There was a longing
in his eyes that made me tingle all over," she said,
confessing to me like a schoolgirl who had just found
her first love. Only this was Momma talking . . .
Momma . . . and to me!
"Oh, I tried to resist at first, Leigh. I wasn't
unfaithful to your father. I told myself over and over
that I was a married woman, that I had a husband and
a child to think about, but as Tony and I drew closer
and closer, all restraint weakened until I could deny
what was happening no longer.
"It happened one night after I had finished
working and had cleaned up to go home. It was a
warm day, a warm late afternoon. He asked me to take
a walk with him to look at the ocean. I hesitated, but
he pleaded, promising to bring me right back: l
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relented and we walked to a small hill and looked out
over the sea. The sun was red and low, the bottom of
it just touching the ocean. The sight was breathtaking.
Suddenly, I felt his hand in mine, and when we touched, my heart cried . . . no . . . demanded to be
heard.
"I confessed my unhappiness to him, but I told
him I couldn't just rush into anything. He was very
understanding, but determined.
"I tried on three or four occasions to explain
things to your father, but he either ignored it or didn't
really listen. His mind's always on his business.
Finally, at the Bon Voyage Ball, I made Tony a
promise. Even so, I tried to break it. I suffered so on
that trip to Jamaica, but love will not be denied, when
it is as real and sincere as it is between Tony and
myself, and I knew at the end that I had to do
something dramatic or I would pine away in the
darkness like a flower.
"Will you try to understand? Will you, Leigh?
It could happen to you someday and you might need
someone, someone you love and who loves you, to
understand." She squeezed my hand and pleaded with
her eyes.
"Oh Momma. This is all happening so fast. It
might not have happened overnight to you, but it has
to me."
"I know, Leigh. I appreciate what you're going
through, but I'm going to need you to help me, too. I need your support and love. Will you be more than
my daughter? Will you be my best friend, too?" Her eyes were glassy, tear-filled, but warm. I
couldn't help reaching out to her. She kissed my
cheek.
"I'll try. But Momma, what will happen to
Daddy?"
"Nothing will happen to him, Leigh. Believe
me. He has his business and that keeps him busy day
and night. You'll see him and he'll see you just as
much as you do now, which isn't all that much," she
added dryly.
I didn't say anything. She might be right about
that, I thought, but still, it felt like a sword through the
heart to hear her say it.
"And Leigh, most important of all, will you try
to like Tony? Will you give him a chance? If you do,
you will see how sweet he is and you will understand
why I love him so."
I couldn't help my feelings. Every time she said
she loved Tony, I thought about Daddy and how cruet
it all was. To think of Tony made my stomach
butterflies flutter a bit, stir from their restless sleep.
As I sat there it slowly dawned on me, sank like water
into concrete, that this was all Tony's fault.
I hated