Casteel 05 Web of Dreams (28 page)

"Perhaps when we return from Maine then," he said. "Perhaps."
"Leigh, please believe me when I tell you I love you." "I believe you, Daddy," I replied quickly.
"You'll always be my little princess, no matter what," he added in the voice that brought back a hundred memories. How I wanted him near me now, to hug me and kiss me just the way he often did when he returned home from a cruise or business trip. But all he was, was a tiny, faraway voice on a phone.
"Bye, Leigh. We'll call you when we come back."
"Bye, Daddy." I lowered the receiver slowly. My body began to shake with dry sobs. Troy came running to me and embraced me.
"Don't cry, Leigh. Please, don't cry."
"I won't, Troy." I held my breath a moment and then smiled. "I'm all right. Come," I said, "let's go see what Rye Whiskey can fix for me."
I took his hand again and we went out.
Later that afternoon, my mother came to Troy's suite looking for me, curious about my day with my father. She was surprised to hear that he had remarried and wanted to know all about his new wife. I didn't tell her I had run out on them.
"She's tall and thin and her nose is long and bony," I said. She smiled at that. "She has a poor complexion, pockmarks on her forehead, and her hair looks like she rarely washes it. It's dull and full of gray streaks."
"I'll never let my hair turn gray," Momma said quickly. "It's so unnecessary for a woman to go through that."
"She has no figure," I continued, enjoying the way I ran down my father's new wife, "but Daddy likes her because she is an accountant and she is very efficient."
"Just the kind of woman he would like. You must have had a dreadful time, poor thing."
"And she has her own family with grown-up children!" I exclaimed.
"Really? Extraordinary! What happened to her first husband?" she asked. I didn't know what to say.
"They didn't tell me that."
She nodded in understanding.
"Are you going to see them again soon?" she asked. "No. They're off to see her family and then they're going on a combined business trip and honeymoon."
My mother burst out laughing. Even Troy, who had been sitting quietly by his trains and listening to me, looked up with a confused but wide smile on his face.
"Isn't that just like him? He'll make his own honeymoon into a tax deduction." She started out of Troy's suite and turned. "Oh, did you tell him about your modeling for the portrait doll?"
She had tried to ask the question nonchalantly, but from the way her body had tensed, I suddenly realized she had more than a passing curiosity in my answer.
"Yes." I refused to elaborate. If she so badly wanted to know what I had told Daddy, then let her ask! I wasn't going to make things any easier--she hadn't for me.
She studied me for a moment. Was it my imagination or had her eyes suddenly filled with apprehension? I studied her eyes more closely. Yes, there was definitely apprehension . . . and fear! I watched her swallow over the lump in her throat and she could barely get her next words out: "What did he say?"
I gave her a pointed stare. "He thought it was wonderful. What else would he say?"
Relief washed over her beautiful features. She knew I hadn't told Daddy the truth. "You're a very wise and intelligent young lady for your age, Leigh. I'm proud of you. Oh, Tony and I are going out for dinner. We've been invited to the Ambersons'. You know who Mr. Amberson is, don't you?" She didn't wait for me to answer. "He's a multimillionaire who owns tons of paper mills. He's got oodles of money and can have anything his heart desires. Anything!"
Was that all she cared about? Money? Possessions? Had her love for luxury and wealth overpowered her love for me? I wondered more and more with each passing day.
"By the way," she continued as she breezed out of Troy's suite, "Tony told me to tell you he'll need you for just a little while tomorrow morning and then he's finished with his work here. Isn't that exciting?"
Before I could answer she was gone, heading to her suite to bathe and dress for dinner.
I slammed the door of the suite in anger. Troy looked at me with scared eyes. How I wanted to scream at Momma! Once again she had told me what to do without thought or consideration of my feelings.
With each passing day the web Momma had ensnared me in was becoming tighter and tighter. Where would it all end? I fearfully wondered.
Tony wasn't at breakfast the following morning. Momma explained that he had risen early and had already gone to the cottage to work. I was to follow as soon as I was finished with my own breakfast. I ate slowly, while she described their dinner at the Ambersons'. After a while I stopped listening and her voice droned on over my thoughts. I was feeling much more nervous about this final session with Tony than I had felt about all the others. Maybe it was just a result of all the dramatic and terribly emotional things that had been happening to me.
Finally, I left the table, went up to my suite and made some final touches on my hair, and then started out for the cottage. It was a bright morning, warmer than most. The ocean breezes were very slight and the clouds seemed pasted to the aqua sky. Even the birds which were usually quite active and noisy were placid. They stared down at me with jeweled eyes in anticipation. I heard the whir of lawn mowers on the far corners of the grounds and caught the cry of a tern, but other than that, the world seemed like a gigantic painting on a gigantic canvas.
All this made the stillness and isolation of the maze even more intense. The shadows were darker, deeper and longer. Cool spots were cooler and the scent of the freshly cut hedges was pungent. Instead of feeling as if I were moving through tunnels though, I felt as if I were dropping deeper and deeper into a world of mystery. I looked back once and saw the roof of Farthy just before it disappeared behind a tail hedge. For no reason I could figure out I panicked and ran the rest of the way, bursting out by the cottage. I stopped and caught my breath. Then, feeling foolish, I wiped my face with my handkerchief, brushed back my hair, corrected my posture and went to the cottage.
Tony was hovering over the clay model, his hands over it as if he were about to seize it and press it to him. He looked up sharply when I entered and straightened quickly.
"I couldn't wait for you this morning," he said. "I was that eager to finish up. Just sit there," he said pointing to the couch. "All I want to do this morning is make some final touches on the doll's face. So," he said as I took my seat and faced him, "you went to see your father yesterday." He began working with a tiny tool.
"Yes."
"But all didn't go well?" he asked. I shifted my eyes to him quickly. He saw I was wondering how he knew that. "Miles told me," he added softly.
"I didn't say anything to your mother though." He winked. "I gather, from what you told her, that neither did you."
"I didn't want to upset her."
"Yes. So what happened to upset
you?
Just turn a little to the right. A little more. Fine."
"My father remarried," I said.
"And you didn't know about it until then?"
"That's right."
He shook his head.
"Men can be such fools." He smiled. "Didn't get along with the new woman?"
"I was too upset about things. I suppose I was unfair," I added. I had been thinking that I should have given my father and his wife another chance by going to dinner with them. Now he was off to Maine and I couldn't do anything about it.
"I can't imagine you being unfair to anyone, Leigh. There's no one sweeter or more considerate. I see the way you are with Troy," he said smiling. I didn't say anything. "I know I'm a poor substitute," he continued, "but I wish you would think of me as you would a father. I know you think me too young, but I have a great deal of experience. My wealth and responsibilities have aged me far beyond my years." He smiled again, shifted his position, studied me, worked and then stopped and studied me some more.
"Anyway," he said after a while, "if you ever have any problems you can't discuss with your mother, I wish you would come to me."
"Thank you, Tony," I said.
"I'd enjoy helping you." He worked with other tools, scraping, making fine touches, studying me, working, on and on like that for well over an hour. Finally, he stood up and announced he was finished.
"That's it," he said. "Your job's over. Now I've got to get this cast. I think I'll turn the actual painting over to one of my best artists."
I was finished? No more nude modeling? What an easy final day, but I realized I hadn't seen the finished sculpture. "Can I see it now?"
"Of course," he said stepping back. He gestured toward the clay figure. I got up slowly and walked around to face it. The moment I looked at it, my face turned beet red and I gasped. My head was reeling. I felt hot all over, then cold. My face was perfect but he had sculpted every detail and every part of my body with such exaggeration, it looked pornographic. Everyone could see this . . . boys . . . everyone.
"What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes narrowing to tiny blue slits.
"Tony, you can't show everyone this. It's embarrassing. Dolls don't have . . . have . . ."
"Genitals? No, dolls don't, but a portrait doll is a work of art, I told you."
"NO!" I cried. "I can't let you put my face on this. I can't," I said.
"But it will be only your doll. No one else will have this one. They'll want their own."
"But they'll be looking at this one to see what theirs will be like."
"It will be dressed when they look at it."
"But then why did you do this?"
He looked at me and then at the doll as if the answer were on the doll's lips. Then he reached out and caressed the clay figure. As he did so his eyes became dreamy and faraway as I had seen happen before.
"Because . . . as I said . . it's a work of art."
"No, I won't let you put my picture beside it.
I won't!"
insisted. He stared at me a moment. Then his eyes turned cold, even colder than before. They lost their faraway look and focused hard on me.
"All right," he said angrily. "I'll change it. You're finished now. You can go," he snapped.
I walked to the door. When I looked back, I saw he was standing there staring down at the doll, his face as hard and as still as a sculpted one. I left the cottage and hurried on through the maze. Before I was halfway through, I began to run the rest of the way, fleeing the image of myself naked and exposed for everyone to see.

A
lthough I had looked forward so much to my summer vacation, I was happy when it drew to a close and I would return to Winterhaven. I missed Jennifer. I had told her about the portrait doll, but I hadn't told her about my nude posing. And I never got to visit her. After I finished my work for the doll, Momma found one reason or another why I shouldn't leave. I asked her again, weeks before I was to return to school, but she said I would see my friends soon enough. A few days later she decided she wanted to take me to New York City to shop for new clothing for school and new clothing for herself as well. It was a whirlwind trip because almost as soon as we arrived, she decided it was too hot to stay. After only one night in New York and shopping in just two
department stores, we returned to Farthy.

Throughout most of August Tony did a great deal of traveling, establishing new markets across the country for his toys and especially for portrait dolls. I had yet to see the finished product. He had done as he said and turned the fine artwork over to one of his better artisans, a man he had imported from Europe, a man who had worked on these dolls there. Tony told my mother and me that he didn't want us to see it until it was completely done, down to the last eyelash.

The changing weather caused Troy to develop a new allergy. It got so bad that for one week at the end of August, he had to be in the hospital. The doctors did dozens of tests on him, trying to find the best antidotes for his problems. I had Miles take me to visit him every day, but Momma never went once. She always seemed to have something else to do, someplace to go, people to see.

Finally, the day came when I was packed off for my return to Winterhaven. Our private school began a week earlier than the public schools. It had been one of the warmest summers on record, but toward the very end of August, the weather made an about-face. Autumn came charging in on the heels of the wind and the rain, turning the leaves into the rainbow colors of fall almost overnight. Temperatures sunk and the hazy blue sky became a deeper and sharper blue.

I didn't mind. I always loved fall, loved the colors and the brisk breezes. The air was fresh and filled me with energy and hope. I had received two phone calls from Daddy, one on his return from Maine, just before his honeymoon, and one right after that. Each time, he left me with the promise of seeing me, but something happened with his schedule or his business that made it impossible. We left it that I might spend my Christmas holiday with him and Mildred.

Jennifer's mother had remarried, too, and she was just as unhappy about it and just as eager to get back to Winter-haven and the "special club." She was waiting outside our dorm when Miles drove me up. She ran to the car and we hugged and kissed and talked so quickly and so much, we both grew hoarse. She helped me unpack my things and then we went around to see the other girls. Everyone but Marie had arrived. She was coming a day later, directly from Paris.

That first night back, Jennifer and I sat up in bed talking into the wee hours. I finally told her about my modeling experience. When I described the way I had first undressed and how Tony slipped the sheet from my body gradually, she grew quiet, her voice then dropping to a bare whisper.

"But he's so young-looking," she said. "I don't know if I could have done that. How did you do it?"
"I don't know. My mother talked me into it," I told her. "You know she's an artist and artists don't think much of that sort of thing," I explained. I didn't tell her about Tony's method of touching me and then painting and sculpting. I just couldn't confess to that. Even so, what I described was enough.
"You must promise not to tell anyone in the 'special club,' Jennifer. I don't want the others to know the details. Let them think the doll's body was created from Tony's imagination. They will laugh anyway when they see it."
"Why?" she asked quickly.
"Because it looks older than I do, more mature. Especially here," I said indicating my bosom.
"Why did he do that?" Jennifer asked, her eyes wide.
"I don't know. I don't understand men, not my father, not any man."
Jennifer grew quiet. I thought she was thinking about her own father, but she surprised me.
"I met a boy the last week of the summer," she said, "and we had two dates."
"Jennifer Longstone, you never told me a thing about it in your letters and phone calls," I cried, sitting up quickly. "What boy? What's he like? How old is he?"
"It happened so fast I didn't have time to tell you, and anyway, I didn't want to make a big thing out of it until I was sure he really liked me. His name is William Matthews. He's sixteen and he attends Allandale so he will be at the dance this coming weekend. Are you going to be able to stay?"
"Yes. My mother has agreed to let me stay every other weekend."
"Oh, that's wonderful because William's roommate will be coming too, and when I told William about you, he said you and his roommate would be perfect together."
"Jennifer, you didn't. What did you tell him?"
"Just the truth . . . that you're beautiful and smart and fun to be with."
"Oh Jennifer."
"It's all right. I didn't make any promises. I wouldn't do that without talking to you first. William's roommate's name is Joshua John Bennington. William says he's very shy, but very good-looking and one of the brightest boys at Allandale. Also, he's very rich."
"You sound like a matchmaker. Since when did you get so sophisticated about boys, Jennifer Longstone?"
"Since the last week of the summer," she whispered and then went on to tell me about her two dates with William, the second one occurring at her house where they were alone together.
"He kissed me, Leigh," she confessed. "It was the first time I let a boy touch me. Did you ever let a boy touch you, Leigh?" she asked.
I thought again about Tony running his hands over my body, but I was still ashamed to tell her about it.
"No," I said quickly. "I don't think I could unless I loved him and he loved me," I said. Jennifer nodded, looking a little guilty.
"I like him a lot," she admitted. It made me think there was more to her story.
"What happened?"
"I liked it, Leigh. But I made him stop when he went too far," she added quickly. "I did," she emphasized. "That's the secret, knowing when to stop. That's what Wendy Cooper told me and Wendy ought to know. She's been going steady with Randolph Hampton for almost a year now and Randolph's nearly seventeen!" We were both quiet a moment and then Jennifer said, "But it's hard to stop, Leigh. Things happen inside you and you have to argue with your own body. You'll see when it happens to you," she promised.
I thought about the way I had trembled under Tony's touch, experiencing feelings I had never had. But I had been mostly embarrassed. I wondered if I always would be, even when I did these things with the man I loved.
Jennifer had really surprised me. Of all the girls in the "special club," I would have thought her the least likely to do these things with a boy. There's no way to be sure about anyone, I thought, not a best friend, and certainly not a father. Summers were short, yet so much seemed to happen over summers. Everything in and around my life was happening so quickly now. I felt like I was on a runaway roller coaster.
"Oh Leigh, it's so good to be back with you and have someone I can talk to again. I hate my mother now and I can't talk to her about anything that's important to me anymore. Do you hate your father?"
"I don't know," I said. I really didn't know. "Sometimes I do and sometimes, I feel sorry for him. It's all so confusing, I hate thinking about it anymore."
I said good night and turned over to go to sleep, but Jennifer's confessions had rekindled my memories of Tony touching me, studying my body with his fingers, and stroking me as
if
I were the clay for him to mold. How could my mother think that my permitting him to touch me like that was all right? Didn't she think I would feel things as Jennifer did when her boyfriend touched her, or did she think I was still too young?
II looked over at Jennifer, who was already asleep and probably dreaming about William Matthews. Her first experiences were exciting, the kind of experiences all of us girls had talked about and dreamt about having. I wanted a boyfriend too, someone to love and cherish me the way men and women loved and cherished each other in romantic movies and novels. I didn't want to be thinking about Tony Tatterton gazing down at my naked body while I stood obediently before him. What kind of romantic moment was that?
It took all my powers of concentration to drive the images from my mind so I could turn into the awls of Sleep, but finally, I was able to do it.
The next morning the dorms of Winterhaven exploded with life and energy. Everyone was excited about beginning classes in a new school year. The showers ran continually, hair dryers were blowing everywhere, girls were shouting to each other, borrowing clothing, jewelry and ribbons from each ether. It felt good to be back. I didn't think I would be as happy as I was, but here at Winterhaven, with all the girls chattering away, with bells ringing and girls scurrying about not to be late, I would try to forget the sad and ugly moments of the past few months.
The "special club" gathered together as always for the walk to the classrooms. Marie Johnson was due any moment and we were anticipating her arrival. And everyone was talking about the upcoming dance with the boys of Allandale. It was the traditional way to start the new school social year. I was so happy that I would be able to attend it. Of course, the main topic of discussion was what to wear. Everyone had an opinion about that.
We started down the corridor. Other girls waved and called to us from their rooms as we passed by. During the day all the dorm rooms had to be left unlocked so they could be inspected to see if the beds were made and clothes were hung up.
Just as we reached the lobby, Marie came bursting in, her chauffeur right behind her struggling with her luggage. She had earrings as big as ice cubes on her lobes and she had her eyebrows trimmed with eye shadow over her lids. She wore a white cotton tennis sweater with a matching cotton blouse and long, flowing, dark blue skirt.
"Jeunes flues!"
she cried.
"Comment allez vous?"
"Marie!"
Everyone rushed to greet her. She looked so much older.
"I can't believe I'm back in this place," she said looking around with an expression of disgust. "And look at you all. The rat pack." Then she laughed. "I missed you, each and every one of you."
She took turns hugging each of us.
"I tried to arrange arriving last night, but it just couldn't be done," she said quickly and sighed. "I'm going to have to rest a while, but don't worry about me. Miss Mallory has been contacted and I'm excused from all my morning classes. Tonight, you're all invited to my room. I have little presents for all of you and I will tell you every detail about my summer in Paris . . especially, the men."
"Men!" Toby cried.
"Well, young men.
Au revoir,"
she said and gestured to her chauffeur to follow.
I walked toward my classes with my friends---not letting them know that there was a storm brewing inside me. I knew there were dreams and pains I could never share with the "special club."
Suddenly nothing became as exciting as the upcoming dance with the boys of Allandale. Jennifer spoke with William on the telephone one night and called me to her side so I could say hello to William's roommate, Joshua. I didn't want to do it, but she beckoned and beckoned and pleaded until I gave in. Then she handed me the receiver. I scowled at her.
"Say hello," she coached.
"Hello," I said and this deep, soft voice replied.
"Hello." There was a long pause before he went on. "This is a bit embarrassing. William wanted me to speak with you before the dance and . . ."
"And Jennifer wanted me to speak with you," I said, seeing how hard it was for him, too.
"Yes, I. . I do look forward to meeting you. From what William has told me, Jennifer speaks so highly of you." "Jennifer exaggerates."
"Oh, I don't think so. Anyway, I just wanted to say hello and tell you I look forward to seeing you at the dance," he added. I thought he sounded very grown up.
"Me too," I replied and hated the sound of my voice because I sounded so young. I thrust the phone back at Jennifer, practically stabbing her with it in the chest. She took it and finished her conversation with William. As soon as she cradled the receiver, I was at her.
"How could you do that? It was so
embarrassing trying to have a conversation with someone, I've never met. I'm sure he doesn't want to have anything to do with me now. I sound like an idiot on the telephone."
"No, you don't."
"I
like to see the person I'm meeting for the first time," I complained, but Jennifer stood there with her Cheshire cat grin. All the rest of that night I replayed Joshua's words. I hoped he looked as good as he sounded.
Now wearing the proper dress and looking my best became so very important. I could think of nothing else. I finally settled on my pink chiffon with a waist bow on the back. I had hesitated because of the spaghetti straps. I still thought my shoulders looked too bony, but I decided I would wear a lace shawl as well and keep it on if I felt too selfconscious.
Winterhaven was hosting the dance.
Downstairs, the decorating committee had removed most of the tables from the large dining room. The rugs had been rolled and put aside. Colorful streamers and festive paper decorations had been hung from the ceiling, and spinning where a more sedate chandelier had once hung was a large, mirrored ball. I would have never believed that a room which was sunny and bright by day, since it faced east and south, could be converted into a passable ballroom.
With Marie leading the way, jabbering on and on about the balls she attended in Paris, the "special club" marched down. The night before Marie had given us all a lecture about the boys of Allandale, emphasizing that most were very rich and
sophisticated. Her advice was to be coy, let the boy do most of the talking, pretend to be impressed, and bat our eyelashes. She even demonstrated the way women called "femmes fatales" would do it. She said they were beautiful but dangerous women who usually destroyed the hearts of the men who fell in love with them. Marie knew boys from Allandale well and claimed some deserved to have their hearts broken. I hoped Joshua John Bennington wasn't one of those. Neither Jennifer nor I had told the others about him and William Matthews. We wanted to surprise them with our little secret.
By the time we arrived, the music had already begun; the band was playing "Rock Around the Clock." Some of the balloons had broken free and were floating over the center of the dance floor. All of the other boys from Allandale were standing in a herd across the room, some sipping punch, others standing and gazing at us with cool eyes and placid smiles, each deciding who he was going to ask to dance.
The eyes of the other girls in our club popped when a tall, blond-haired boy with fair skin and blue eyes came across the room quickly to greet Jennifer.
"Leigh," Jennifer said taking William's hand and turning him to me. "This is William Matthews. William, Leigh Van Voreen."
"I'm pleased to meet you," he said extending his hand. I thought he had a pleasant face with soft, gentle features, and I was very happy for Jennifer. Behind us, the members of the "special club" were whispering madly.
"I'm pleased to meet you."
"My roommate is standing over by the punch bowl shivering in terror," William said.
"Oh, William, don't tease him," Jennifer said. "Or Leigh," she added with wide eyes.
"Ladies," William Matthews said holding his arms out to escort both of us to the punch bowl. I took his left arm, gazed back once at the amazed "special club," and walked across the floor. A tall, blackhaired boy with a very tanned face and bright hazelgreen eyes looked up. I thought he was very handsome with a quiet, underlying manliness that made my heart flutter. There was a tenderness in his gaze, but the way he glanced at me with his eyes moving rapidly over me, scooping me in, titillated me. I felt a tingling sensation through my spine.
"Leigh," William said with a little more force and volume than necessary, "this is my roommate, Joshua John Bennington, the famous telephone conversationalist." He followed that with a laugh and Jennifer poked him in the shoulder.
Joshua swung his eyes toward the ceiling and shook his head.
"I'm sorry my roommate is such a clown," he said and extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you."
"Me, too," I said and almost bit my lip to prevent myself from uttering that infantile phrase again. "I mean . . ." "Jen and I are going to dance while you two get acquainted," William said. "Be careful, Leigh, there is a mile-long trail of discarded women behind him. Joshua, you're on your own," he warned and winked. Then he took Jennifer onto the dance floor. I watched them for a moment.
"He's a good dancer," I said.
"William's good at most everything he does. He's one of those perfectly accomplished guys who makes the rest of us feel inferior," Joshua said.
"Oh," I said quickly, "you have no reason to feel inferior." Even I was surprised at how
enthusiastically I had said it. He widened his eyes and his smile.
"Don't believe that story about discarded women. I didn't even attend one of the dances last year," he confessed.
"You didn't? Neither did I."
"Really?" He smiled, his eyes more relaxed. "Some punch?" he offered.
"Yes, please."
After he poured me a glass, we went to a bench to sit and talk. I learned that his father was an estates attorney, that he had two brothers and a sister, and he lived just outside of Boston. His family had a home in West Palm Beach, Florida, as well as a beach house on Cape Cod. Once he started to talk about himself, he never stopped. Every once in a while, I looked toward the "special club." Some had found partners and were dancing. Toby and Betsy hadn't and were staring at me with daggers of envy.