Casteel 05 Web of Dreams (13 page)

"1 . . . I'm just on my way to her suite to have her help me zip up my dress," I said and started away.
"Let me help you do that. That's why you beautiful women keep us men around . . . just for such chores." He put his hands on my shoulders to stop me from walking around him. I nearly gasped and felt a surge of heat climb into my neck. If he could see my embarrassment, he ignored it and turned me around. "Now let me see . . . oh, this is easy."
He pulled the zipper up slowly, taking great care not to pinch my skin, and when he had it up all the way, he planted a quick kiss on the top of my head.
"Done," he announced. "Anything else you need help with?"
"No," I said quickly, so quickly it brought a wide smile to his face and laughter to his eyes. I allowed my eyes to meet his briefly before they fled again to gaze down at the floor. "I've got to fix my hair," I said and retreated to my bedroom. I sat down at the dressing table to catch my breath. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw I was still clinging to the top of my bodice, even though I had no need to. I let go and looked back at the doorway, half expecting him to be there.
But he was gone.
My mind went chasing my feelings. There were so many different ones to try to understand. I hated the way he spoke, trying to sound like a father, and I cringed at his kissing me on my head like Daddy would, but I had to admit to myself that when his fingers touched my shoulders and when his Ups grazed my hair, I felt a pleasing tingle through my body.
And his eyes! When he shifted them to mine, the blue in his had brightened as if he could see the tingle I had felt. Oh, I had to be careful with a man as sophisticated as Tony, I thought. I should think more about what my eyes might reveal. After all, he was the man who had won Momma's heart, the heart of a woman so beautiful most any man would give his right arm for it. I was no match for a man with such power.
And yet his soft blue eyes and handsome face lingered before me, pleading for understanding and love, being me to consider him my new daddy. How could I ever think of someone that young as a daddy, and when he finds out how old Momma really is, he will feel foolish himself, I thought.
Life that had once been as simple and pleasing as a child's storybook tale was now so complicated and hard. I hated it here,
hated it!
I hated being in this dress preparing for this rehearsal, hated the idea that I would be a bridesmaid in my own mother's wedding, hated this house and the servants and the grounds and . . .
"Hi. Are you ready?"
My building rage was interrupted. I turned to see little Troy in his tuxedo and tiny black tie, his hair brushed neatly, standing in my bedroom doorway. He wore a gold pinky ring on his left hand and he looked like a miniature version of his handsome and elegant big brother. All my fury wilted.
"Almost," I said.
"Tony says we can get back into our 'good' clothes as soon as the rehearsal's over," Troy told me eagerly. I laughed at the way he widened his eyes and nodded his head.
"Good clothes?"
"I have to be very careful when I'm dressed like this, careful about what I touch and where I go," he recited. He scrunched up his nose to indicate how much he hated it. He was so cute, I wanted to hug him to me like one of my teddy bears.
"Right. I can't wait to get back into my 'good' clothes, too." I stood up, took one last look at myself in the mirror, and then started out. He gave me his hand and we went downstairs to begin the rehearsal.
Throughout the entire rehearsal, I felt as if I were moving through a dream. Surrounded by all these strangers, watching Momma and Tony playact their upcoming ceremony, I couldn't help looking around every once in a while, searching for Daddy, half expecting him to come charging through the great front doors. I permitted my imagination to take over. In my dream, the music stopped and everyone turned Daddy's way.
"Jillian," he screamed. "You can't do this. And you," he said, turning to Tony, "you must end this spell you have thrown over my wife." In my daydream, Daddy looked bigger and more powerful than ever. He held his arm out and pointed accusingly at Tony, who backed away in awe of such strength. Suddenly, Momma's eyes blinked. She looked from Daddy to Tony and back to Daddy.
"Cleave? Oh Cleave, Cleave, thank God you've come. I don't know what came over me. I don't know what I'm doing here."
She ran to his arms and I ran after her. Then Daddy put his arm around me, too, and the three of us walked out of this castle and were on our way home, safe and sound forever and ever.
My reverie ended, burst like a bubble, when little Troy tugged demandingly on my hand. I was standing behind the other bridesmaids. We had come down the stairway in front of Momma and taken our positions while the minister reviewed the ceremony. Now all that had apparently come to an end and Troy was reminding me of my earlier promise to go out with him.
"Come back in about an hour for lunch," Tony said.
The two of them went off to Tony's office. I went to change and was barely dressed when Troy came charging in again, all bundled up and ready to go out in the snow.
"Will you need me to come along, too?" Mrs. Hastings asked, the answer she hoped for written all over her face.
"No, Mrs. Hastings. We'll be fine," I replied. She looked as if I had given her a reprieve from ten years at hard labor. Little boys had to be a handful, I thought, laughing to myself. I put on my coat and gloves and took Troy's hand. We went down the stairs and out to his snowman.
Although it was still quite bright, the sky had become overcast and snow was falling. I watched Troy work diligently on the snowman's fingers, and I listened to him chatter away about the toys Tony had promised him for Christmas. He skipped from one topic to another, at one point telling me a story Ryse Williams told him about a little boy in New Orleans who had a magical flute. He kept calling Ryse "Rye," and when I asked him about that, he said he had heard the other servants call him that.
"They said his name was Rye Whiskey, not Ryse Williams."
"Rye Whiskey? You don't call him that, do you?"
"Uh-huh," he said, and then he looked toward the front door and added, "when Tony's not there. He doesn't like me to.
^,
'
"Oh, I see. Well, maybe you shouldn't do it then."
He shrugged. Then his eyes brightened with a new idea. He dropped his silver spoon and stepped back.
"We gotta go get some pieces of hedge to make the snowman's clothes. We gotta, Leigh."
"Pieces of hedge?"
"Uh-huh. Boris trims the maze all the time and there's pieces of hedge there. We gotta get some, okay? Please. Okay?"
I sighed. It was cold just standing around and the snowflakes were falling faster and getting bigger every moment. A walk would do us both good, I thought.
"Okay."
He grabbed my mittened hand into his and started us away from the house.
"I'll show you. Don't be afraid. show you."
"All right, all right. Slow down, Troy. Your snowman won't melt. That's for sure."
I looked back at the house because I overheard two women from Tony's offices in Boston who were serving as bridesmaids talking about Momma as they walked to their car.
"She was married to a man old enough to be her grandfather," one said. "I heard he's practically senile and doesn't even realize she's left him."
"The only reason a woman like that would marry a man that old is for his money."
"She won't need to worry about money anymore," the first woman said. "And now she has a devastatingly handsome young man as well. That's one shrewd woman." They both laughed and got into their car.
Despite the cold air and the falling snow, my face felt hot with rage. I wanted to run over to their car and pound on the windows. They were making fun of my father. How dare they? Who told them such a story? They didn't deserve to be in the wedding party. Jealous, envious, vicious gossips . . .
"Come on, Leigh," Troy said pulling me forward.
"What? Oh, yes." I followed him, looking back once to see their car drive off.
We stopped at the entrance to the maze.
"I don't see any hedge trimmings, Troy. Let's go back." "No, there's always some. We'll go in a little and look, okay?" he pleaded.
"Your brother doesn't want us to, Troy." "It's okay. I know how to go in and out."
"Is that right?" Sometimes, he looked so mature for a little boy, so self-assured.
"Tony won't be mad. Tony's going to be your daddy now."
"No, he's not," I snapped. Little Troy looked up confused. "He's marrying my mother, but that doesn't make him my daddy. I have a daddy."
"Where is he?" Troy asked, lifting his little shoulders. "He works with big ships and he's out on the ocean." "Is he coming here, too?"
"No. My mother doesn't want to live with him anymore. She wants to live with your brother, so we're living here and my father lives someplace else. That's called a divorce. People who are married stop being married. Understand?"
He shook his head.
"To tell you the truth," I said bitterly, "neither do I." I looked back at the house again. A group of Tony's male friends came out laughing and patting each other on the arms and shoulders. "All right," I said, "we'll go into the maze and look for pieces of trimmed hedges. We can't get lost anyway," I added, "because we can just follow our footsteps in the snow back."
"That's right." He charged ahead of me into the maze. I hesitated a moment and then followed.
Actually, I welcomed the serenity of the maze. I wanted to be cut off from all the noise and activity. I felt very irritated; my stomach churned, my heart pounded. I recalled the piano playing "Here Comes the Bride," and that made me more and more furious.
But as we made the turn in the maze and went deeper and deeper into the belly of it, the world beyond fell farther and farther away. The tall hedges served as great walls, cutting us off from the sounds at the front of the house. The thickened snowflakes that fell floated into the corridors clinging to the hedges. Troy surged ahead, looking back every few moments to be sure I was still following him. I lost track of how many sharp, right angles we took. One corridor looked the same as another, especially dressed in the newly forming coats of snow. I was glad we were doing this through snow though, for now I understood how easily it would be for someone to get lost. The maze was indeed deep and seemingly endless.
"Troy," I finally called. "We'd better turn back. There are no hedge trimmings and we're just wandering about in circles, I think."
"No we're not. We're going toward the cottage." "What is this cottage? Who lives in it?"
"Nobody now. It's one of my secret places," he whispered.
"Well, we'd better not try to find it," I said looking back. "Just a little more, please. Please, Leigh," he pleaded. "All right," I said. "We'll go just a little more, but if we don't find it soon, we have to turn back, okay?"
He nodded quickly and ran ahead, disappearing around a turn. He was moving so rapidly through the corridors, I had to depend on seeing his little footsteps in the snow.
"Troy, don't go so quickly," I shouted. "Troy." I quickened my pace, but he was being mischievous and remained a turn ahead of me. "Troy!"
Finally, I made a turn and found myself out of the maze, on the other side. And there it was--just as Troy had said, a little house that looked like something Momma might have drawn in one of her children's book illustrations. Some magician had touched the pages and made it real. Surrounded by tall pines was a small stone cottage with a red slate roof. There was a path of pale flagstone leading to the front door.
"Come on, Leigh," Troy called and hurried down the path to the front door.
"Wait," I cried, but he had already turned the doorknob and entered. I followed and found him sitting in a hard maple rocking chair next to the fireplace. He wore this big smile of self-satisfaction. I looked around the small room and imagined it could be very cozy when the fireplace was burning. There were just some simple pieces of furniture, an old couch, an easy chair, a rectangular brown rug, some small tables and empty dark pine wooden shelves. The thin, white cotton curtains hung sadly over the frosted windows. It was so cold in the cottage that I could see both Troy's breath and mine . I embraced myself to keep warm.
"No one lives here now?" I asked as I wandered through to look at the one small bedroom and the small kitchen. There was a single bed in the bedroom and a small dresser, but no rug on the floor and no mirrors. The kitchen had an old coal stove, a small sink, and instead of a refrigerator, an ice box, the doors of which were wide open. Nothing was in it, however. Troy jumped off the rocker to follow me.
"Boris lives here in the summer sometimes, but it's really my secret place," Troy said.
"You don't come here by yourself? How did you find your way through the maze?" I asked him. He shrugged. I understood, it had just been luck.
"Lucky for us we only have to trace our footsteps back." I continued to look around. "This must be nice in the spring and summer though."
"Will we come here again? Will we, Leigh?"
"I suppose," I said. Maybe it would become my secret place, too, I thought, especially when things became too difficult for me back at the mansion.
"I can bring in some logs from the pile outside," Troy said. "And we can make a fire in the fireplace."
"No, no, I think we had better just head back. We've been gone a long time. Everyone will wonder where we've gone and it's starting to snow harder."
"Don't you want to make a fire and warm up first. There's matches here," he said shooting around me and into the kitchen. He pulled a chair over to the stove and stood up on it to reach onto the shelves above and come down with a box of wooden matches. "See."
"Yes."
"Let's make a fire and warm up, Leigh. I'll get the kindling wood, too," he said and dropped the matches on the table and ran out.
"Troy." He was already out the front door. I shook my head and laughed at his enthusiasm. I didn't think we had been gone all that long. Maybe warming up with a small fire would be all right. It seemed like fun, too. Troy came rushing back in with an armload of kindling wood. He brushed the snow off it.
"Want me to do it or do you know how?" he asked. "You know how?"
"Sure I do. Boris showed me lots of times." He placed the kindling wood in the fireplace and carefully arranged the sticks. Then he pushed open the vent and taking great pains to get it right the first time, lit some small twigs under some large ones. Soon he had quite a little fire going. He ran out and brought in two good-size logs and placed them carefully on the fire.