Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy (93 page)

Sarah returned with a cloth and pressed it
gently against my sweaty brow with her delicate hands while Heath
left for a moment. I heard him speaking to Judith out in the hall
while I gazed up at the woman who had claimed Heath’s heart. Oh,
how it hurt to see how pretty she was, how pure and wholesome, so
unlike myself. I wanted to tell her how jealous I was, how Heath
should have been mine, but I knew better. He deserved someone so
wonderful.

I bit my tongue and closed my lids over my
aching eyes, and I believe I drifted off to sleep for some time.
When I woke, my eyes drifted to where Heath sat in a chair beside
my bed, apparently waiting for me to wake. His eyes sprang open and
he stood, checked my pupils, and then declared I was well enough to
leave.

With his assistance, I sat up, took a sip of
water, and then rose from the bed. I was still weak, my stomach
felt sickly and my head throbbed, and I surely I would have fallen
if Heath didn’t catch me. For the single moment he held me, I
stopped breathing. Since the day he kissed me long ago, I had
imagined the moment he would tenderly hold me in his arms again and
have his lips brush against mine. However, Heath quickly stopped
the fantasy by awkwardly moving me away. “Sterling is going to take
you back to the hotel. I have a colleague on call if you should
become overcome with pain again.”

“Tell me you don’t hate me,” I managed to ask
before he turned to go. I feared I would never see him again and
needed so badly to know he didn’t loathe me.

Heath refused to look at me; he refused to
answer my one agonizing question. I reached out to his arm, and
with all the strength I had left, made him turn to me. His face was
cold, aloof. My heart sank to the furthest depths of my soul.
Before being dismissed, I asked one more thing of him, hoping to
shed just a glimmer of light into my dark, bleak world. “How are
Ayden and Elizabeth? And your parents?”

Heath obviously heard the desperation in my
voice and didn’t deny me such a simple request.

“Elizabeth is doing remarkably well. She is a
very bright child; she has mastered all that sign language has to
offer. And, she is so pretty. My parents are living at the school.
My father took on a job as a caretaker and mother is a cook.” Heath
managed to look at me when he said this, but he didn’t mention
Ayden and how he was faring. I questioned him again. Heath packed
up his medical bag and hurried to go.

“Heath, about your brother!” I implored.

“Ayden is Ayden. He is fine, content to be a
lighthouse keeper,” he said coldly and left without another
word.

Both Ayden and Heath had fulfilled their
dreams, Elizabeth was well, smart, and pretty, and she had her
loving parents close to her. How fortunate the Daltons were, and oh
- how I wished life wasn’t always so merciless to me.

The trip back into Savannah was short and
without incident. Sterling didn’t speak to me and I was surprised
when before I walked into the hotel he pulled an envelope from the
breast pocket of his jacket and said, “Rachael asked me to give
this to you.”

Without waiting for a reply, he took off, and
I stood alone, as the sun was just about to set, as twilight
approached, on the front gallery, holding the letter in my
trembling hands.

Dear Lillian,

How sorry I am to learn what has become of
you. I feel I must own up to my untruth and apologize for my
participation in Richard’s scheme to have you believe the law was
after you. My motives were not as deceitful as you may suspect. I
simply would have done anything to make Richard happy . . .
anything, as I am sure you have in common with me.

Richard is a captivating man, handsome and
egocentric. It is unfortunate he has abandoned you, and I pity your
situation. Enclosed is a train ticket back North and I hope you use
it to take yourself far from the shady, seedy world Richard has
thrown you into and somehow recover and find the happiness you so
deserve.

Warmly,

Rachael

I stared at the train ticket in my hand for a
long while, then at the door to the hotel. I had planned on
confronting Bart Wilco and demanding what I was entitled to -
money. He had allowed Richard to steal it all from me, and I wasn’t
going to stand for it. But suddenly, there was the choice to move
ahead and forget about Richard, Bart Wilco, the theater, the
magazine - everything. I could disappear where no one would look
for me, or care to. Jasper Island had always called out to me; my
heart yearned to return to the only place that could make me feel
whole again. One train ticket could take me there - the ticket in
my hand.

Then there was the persistent voice urging me
to seek what I was rightfully owed, and make people pay for their
cruel lies. As much as my heart told me to turn and walk away, go
to the train station, and finally make my way home, my head
wouldn’t hear of it. My suffering came with a vindictive price and
all those who crossed my path would have to pay.
All of you who
hurt me will pay for what you’ve done to me! Why am I the only one
who is left to suffer?

With fierce determination, I marched inside
and straight up to the second floor where Bart was sitting at the
desk counting his precious money.

“You should knock before you enter a room.
Have you no manners?” he barked. I slammed the door closed,
startling him.

“I came for what is mine,” I spat.

“What is yours?” he asked, his mocking tone
me.

I rushed over and grabbed his piles of money
and threw it all up in the air, then shouted, “This is what I’m
entitled to!”

He scrambled to pick up the bills scattered
all over the floor, and I stood over him. Once he had scooped it
all up and placed safely back on the desk, he spun around and laid
a stinging slap to my face that sent me hurling onto the bed. From
there, he grabbed my wrists, and shook me violently. “I’ve had
enough of you and your lover! Richard has been nothing but a
financial burden, always demanding more and more money.” He said
this through clenched, hideous, crooked yellow teeth. “You were
worth it in the beginning, but now look at you!”

Bart released me and I scurried across the
bed to get away from him. “You have wasted yourself on booze and
drugs; you can’t remember your lines, you’ve lost your singing
voice, and you look haggard all the time. You’re not worth paying a
penny for!”

Frightened, I bolted off the bed and ran for
the door as his scornful glare followed me.

“Get out and don’t come back! Stay out of my
theater, you good-for-nothing tramp!” he yelled, his shrill voice
trailing all the way outside until I was far away from the hotel,
crying and running down the empty, dark city streets until I
finally reached the train station, falling, then picking myself up
again.

* * *

Life seemed to have strangely catapulted me
back in time, and I found myself wandering wide-eyed through the
small, empty train station. I had been there before, more than a
year ago and found it hard to imagine all I had been through since
I found Richard at the ticket booth purchasing a ticket for me to
come join him and Judith in New York City. He claimed I was being
sought after by the constable, and if I didn’t go with him, I would
surely be thrown in jail, accused of murdering Warren Stone and
then sentenced to death - a noose would be thrown around my neck
and I would be hung in the town square, in front of hundreds of
witnesses.

Little did I realize it was all a ploy to win
my affections, take advantage of my gullibility, and have me bail
him out of his own personal debt. It was all an act, the script
written long before I agreed to Richard’s plan.

I shook my head from the disbelieving,
miserable thoughts and focused on the task ahead of me. My plan was
to go to Ned Griffin and agree to be in his show. How easily I
could convince him to have me stay with him in his posh city
apartment, where this time the cards would be in my hands. It was I
who would control all the events that would soon unfold. The power
was all mine, and I had to use it all to my advantage. I was going
to make Richard jealous both by creating immense financial wealth
for Ned, his enemy, and by allowing Ned to become my lover. Knowing
Richard - jealousy, rage, and punishment weren’t going to be
difficult to achieve.

All the way back to New York, I was in great
agony. Chills ran through my body like a bitter January night as I
sweated out every drop of water my body possessed. I tossed and
turned in my berth, shaking uncontrollably and moaning, all while
fighting back the demons of my own mind that called out with
sinister laughter for me to jump off the train. I hallucinated -
thought my evil grandmother was after me, along with Warren. I
swore they shouted for my arrest, and I feared their voices were
real.

There were some kind people on the train who
asked if I needed a doctor, and I barked them away. I was restless
and anxiety-ridden, and found myself greatly craving the drug that
I had no more of. I knew, however, that I could no longer use it.
Somehow, I needed to find the mental strength to see me through my
worst days and nights, just so I could focus on my revenge.

When I finally arrived in New York City, I
was exceedingly weak, had lost weight, and was so sick I didn’t
remember how I made my way to Ned’s theater. I didn’t recall how I
arrived at his apartment, or when he put me in his bed where he
slept beside me. The next few days, I was so out of sorts that I
needed Ned to explain to me exactly what happened.

He slipped out of bed and made me a small
bowl of soup, then sat back down on the edge beside me. Vague
images of Ned and me becoming lovers haunted me, but I remained
calm and in sight of my goals. It was a part of my plan, I told
myself. I needed to use everything - including my body, to take the
necessary steps to hurt Richard.

“You arrived at the theater, thin and frail.
Your face was pale, gaunt, and the minute you found me on stage
during rehearsals, you collapsed in my arms. I brought you here to
my apartment to recover from your ordeal. I don’t know exactly what
happened between you and Richard. All I know is that he is in debt
up to his eyeballs and trying to get a production going.”

“What about the magazine, his illustrator
position?” I asked and then took a spoonful of the warm soup he had
kindly prepared for me.

“Fired. He stole thousands of dollars from
Mr. Hudson. His wife managed to bail him out of jail, and he is
awaiting trial. In the meantime, Richard is doing whatever it takes
to gain back some wealth, for his wife and the rest of the Van
Dorns have now turned their backs on him. And I can’t blame them,”
Ned said, running his hands through his hair, then smiled down to
me. “I’m pleased you came to me. In fact, I knew in my heart you
would someday. We are meant to be together you and me. I knew it
from the moment I laid eyes on you. You won’t regret your decision.
That I promise you.”

Oh, I would not look back and regret one
single moment that led Richard to jail, the gutter, or straight to
hell. That’s where he belonged - in hell with Warren Stone.

Shortly thereafter, I was well enough to
begin, not as the lead role in Ned’s great burlesque production
that put Bart’s to shame, but with a small part in the chorus line
until I was well enough to take Leigh Lane’s part. She was a
moderate success and had won the role soon after I rejected it. She
was obviously dismayed when I showed up.

“She’s an amateur compared to you. Her beauty
and talent don’t compare to yours. Just be patient, and in a few
weeks, when you gain some weight back - enough to fill out your
costume with eye-popping allure that will bring in our most wealthy
patrons, then you will claim the lead role as your own.”

It left me discontented, but I was going to
be patient and follow along without protest. This was a very
grown-up game I was playing, and jumping out into the spotlight
would only hurt my strategy.

The actors who worked for Ned were much more
renowned for lack of humility and the show was so much more risqué!
Without the white powder to ease my nerves and numb the shame at
being on stage in costumes that barely covered my breasts, it
wasn’t easy for me. It was only the memories of Richard’s betrayal
that kept me from running off stage. I didn’t once let Ned see how
miserable I truly was, how the show exhausted me. He never knew
when we were in bed, as he loved me with intense desire, that I was
plotting such wickedness that only someone with the blood of Warren
Stone could conspire.

I didn’t enjoy the romantic dinners he made
for us or the fancy restaurants where we dined at with his wealthy
friends, although I pretended to. Ned, who was thrilled that I was
his exclusive lover, didn’t notice how I scanned every street we
walked along and every public place we entered, looking for
Richard. When we shopped, he asked me to find things that appealed
to me to redecorate his “bachelor” apartment to create a more
pleasing atmosphere for me; he didn’t realize that I just chose
furniture and paintings, rugs and drapes to which I gave no thought
or interest. I couldn’t wait for the moment when fate and good
fortune would finally come my way, and we would bump into Richard.
We were bound to run into him somewhere in the city. I thought
about him constantly.
Where are you, Richard? Show your face;
stop hiding from me. Come out, come out, wherever you are!

It didn’t happen, not once throughout the
cold, blustery winter months. Ned and I were everywhere. At every
upscale party, I was certain Richard would make an appearance.
Though he was not well liked any longer, I had heard the rumors of
his comeback, the talk of his show being successful. Ned loved to
talk about Richard and relished in his future demise.