Web of Dreams Read online

"No, no, it was by the roses, and it was the first night. The stars . . . the night was bursting with stars. It was an explosion of light above us. It took my breath away," she said putting her fingers on her throat softly and closing her eyes as if the memory was too much for anyone to bear.

  I held my breath. Tonight she had told the story better than ever before. She's making it special for me because it's my twelfth birthday. How wonderful of her. Maybe she changed the story from time to time because as I got older, she thought I could hear more and more.

  "And suddenly, Cleave took my hand into his and said, 'Jillian, I have traveled all through this country and seen many other lands, many people and many beautiful women, from the Orient to South America, Hawaiian princesses and Russian princesses and English princesses, but never have I feasted my eyes on someone as beautiful as you. You're a jewel as magnificent as any of the stars above us.'

  "I am a man of action,' he went on, 'who, once he realizes what is valuable in this world and what is not, makes immediate decisions, but fervent decisions, decisions he will stand by through any controversy or turmoil.'

  "Then he took my other hand into his and said, won't leave this town until I have you for my wife." " I mouthed the words in a silent chorus along with her. I had heard that sentence so many times and found it thrilling every time. To think, my daddy would have remained in that dusty Texas town and neglected his business forever and forever until he had the woman he loved, their romance did belong in a storybook, and now it was in mine.

  "Well of course, Leigh, I was overwhelmed by such an expression of love. He asked permission to court me and I granted it. Then he went in and spoke to Grandma Jana privately, asking her permission as well. She was shocked, but I suppose she thought she would at least get this rich suitor for one of her daughters.

  "He came to the house every day for a week after that and my sisters died with envy, but there was nothing they could do. Grandma Jana was ashamed to let Cleave see me in rags doing menial chores about the house, so I got a reprieve from all that and your aunts had to do them.

  "About the fifth day, Cleave formally proposed. He got down on his knees while I sat on the couch in our living room, and I accepted," she said ending the story abruptly. "I left Texas with him and said good riddance to all that.

  "Once your grandmother and aunts found out how rich I was, they became as sweet as honey." She looked at my memory book. "Are you going to put all this in there?"

  "Oh yes. All my most important memories. Did you ever have a diary, Momma?"

  "Never. But that's all right," she added quickly, "I have my memories stored right here," she said pointing to her heart. "Some of them, I have told only you," she said, her voice so low it made my heart skip a beat. She trusted me more than anyone.

  "I won't ever keep secrets from you, Momma."

  "I know you won't, Leigh. We're too alike, you and I, to hide anything important from each other," she said stroking my hair with her fingers. "You're going to be a very beautiful young woman someday soon, do you know that?"

  "I want to be as beautiful as you are, but I don't think I will be. My nose is too long and I don't have your soft mouth. My lips are too thin, aren't they?"

  "Of course not. Anyway, your features aren't fully shaped yet. Just follow my directions, do the things I tell you to do and you will be very attractive. Will you promise to do that?"

  "I promise."

  "Good," she said and finally turned to the birthday package that she-had declared was "girl business." "It's time to open this now and talk about it," she said. She unwrapped it herself and opened the box.

  I couldn't believe my eyes. It was a bra. My breasts had started to grow lately, and some of my friends were already wearing bras. She held it up between us.

  "Your figure is developing and you've just had your first period," she declared. "It's time you learned a woman's ways and learned some things about men."

  I nodded, practically holding my breath. Such a grown-up conversation between us made my heart pitter-patter.

  "You don't wear this all the time, just on occasions when you will meet elegant people and handsome, wealthy suitors, and when you put this on under your new cashmere sweaters ."

  I took the new bra gingerly. My heart was still racing.

  "Men, especially men of position and wealth, like to be seen with women who are stunning. It strokes their egos, understand?" She laughed and tossed her hair back over her shoulders.

  "I think so."

  "Even your father, who is oblivious to almost everything but his ships, enjoys walking into a fine restaurant with me on his arm. Men see women as ornaments."

  "But is that good?" I wondered aloud.

  "Of course it's good. Let them think what they want, as long as they work themselves to the bone making you happy. Never let a man know exactly what you're thinking." Suddenly she turned to me and her soft face became something cold and hard. "Always remember, Leigh, women can never be as promiscuous as men. Never."

  My heart began to beat madly again. She was about to discuss the most intimate things.

  "It's all right for men to be that way. It's expected. They want to prove their manhood, but if a woman is that way, she will lose everything important. Nice girls don't go all the way. Not until they're married," she added. "Promise you won't forget that."

  "I promise," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

  "Good." She looked at herself in the mirror again and her ice-hard expression melted into my sweet, pretty mother once again. "You have opportunities I never had, if I could just get your father to take advantage of them.

  "Did your father take us to Jamaica like I asked him to did we go to Deauville to the races? We have luxury liners, but do we have our own yacht on which to sail to the Riviera? No, he takes us to London three times because that trip can combine business with pleasure ad expects me to cater to the passengers like the wife of a hotel owner or something. I want to go away at least once and be on a real vacation, no business. Nothing but enjoyment. How does he expect me to introduce you to the right kind of people if we don't go to these other places?"

  She turned back to me again, her face flushed with anger. "Don't marry a man who is more in love with his business than he is with you."

  I didn't know what to say. She had told me so much and overwhelmed me with so many new ideas and things to think about. And I had new questions to ask. When do men start trying to get you to go "all the way" and how do you know which men to trust and which not?

  I wasn't ready, I thought and felt a panic coming over me.

  Momma stood up and swept toward the door. "I'm so glad we've had this talk, darling, but we have to get dressed now, I'm afraid. You know how impatient your father gets when he has to wait. Everything's a schedule with him. He treats us like his ships. I'm sure he's downstairs in his office pacing about and mumbling to himself."

  "I'll hurry."

  "No, take your time," she said as if she were unaware she was contradicting herself. "It's good to practice keeping a man waiting for you. Spend time on your hair, put the lipstick on lightly, as I've showed you before, not pressing down, but gently running it over your lips as if you were caressing it with a kiss," she said, demonstrating. "Understand?" I nodded. "Good."

  "And don't forget, put on your stockings and wear your new high-heeled shoes that are just like mine. Always wear high heels, they are much more flattering to one's legs," she said.

  She started out and stopped again in the doorway.

  "I almost forgot. I have another surprise for you," she announced.

  "Something more? But you and Daddy have given me so much today."

  "It's not another gift, Leigh. It's a trip, a place I want you to see," she explained. "I'm taking you with me this weekend."

  "Where?"

  "To that mansion I told you about, the one called Farthinggale Manor."

  "Where you're painting the murals in the music room?" I asked. She had told me abo
ut it very quickly one day. Momma was doing illustrations for children's books, working for Patrick and Clarissa Darrow, the husband and wife owners of a publishing company here in Boston, who were neighbors of ours. Their decorator, Elizabeth Deveroe, was hired to do some work in a fabulous mansion outside of Boston. Momma and Elizabeth were good friends and Momma had accompanied her out there one day and made suggestions, which the owner apparently loved. She and Elizabeth then asked her to carry out the order, which was to paint murals depicting scenes from fairy tales, something Momma had been doing on the covers of books.

  "Yes. I'm more than half done and I want you to see that as well as meet Tony."

  "Tony?"

  "Mr. Tatterton, the owner, and I want you to see this estate. If you would like to go, of course."

  "Oh, I do! I can't wait to see what you've painted."

  "Good." She smiled. "Now we both better get dressed before your father walks a hole in the floor."

  I laughed, thinking about poor Daddy and how it would be for him to have to live with two mature women now, instead of only one. But I could never be cruel to Daddy, I thought. I could never deceive him or not tell him what I was really thinking. Wasn't there ever a time, I wondered, a time after you were in love and married, when you could trust your husband and be honest with him?

  I put on the new bra and one of my new cashmere sweaters and the matching skirt. I brushed my hair back and put on the lipstick just the way Momma had instructed and then I found the shoes with the high heels and stood before my mirror to gaze at myself.

  I looked so different. It was as if I had grown up overnight. People who didn't know me might not be able to guess my true age. How exciting, I thought, and yet, in a way it was a little scary. I looked older, but could I act older? I always watched Momma in public, how she seemed to slip in and out of parts, become this and become that, sometimes giggle and act silly and sometimes look so elegant and

  aristocratic anyone would think she was a member of royalty.

  Always, she was beautiful; she was the center of attention. Whenever she walked into a room, men stopped their conversations and spun their heads around so quickly, they nearly snapped them off their necks.

  It made me nervous to think that the moment we entered the restaurant for my birthday dinner, all eyes would be turned our way and men and women would gaze closely upon me, too. Would they laugh? Would they think there's a young girl trying to be like her mother?

  When I finally walked downstairs to Daddy's enlace, I was filled with apprehension. He would be the first man to see me so dressed up and he was the most important man in my life right now. Momma was still getting ready.

  He was behind his desk, reading one of his reports. Two years ago, Momma had redesigned and redecorated the entire house, except for his office. That was the one room he wouldn't let her touch, even though its floor was covered with a rather wornlooking rectangular rug Momma considered an embarrassment. His desk had been his father's and was scratched and chipped, yet he would permit nothing to be done with it. His office looked cluttered because he had shelves of models of ships and nautical books on all the walls. There was one small, dark-brown leather settee and a worn hickory rocker with an oval maple table beside it. He worked by the light of a brass oil lamp.

  The only art in the room consisted of pictures of ships: Yankee Clippers and some of the first luxury liners, and some dried and treated driftwood pieces he had on his cluttered desk and on the oval table. On the wall behind him was a portrait of his father. Grandpa VanVoreen, who had died two years before I was born, had a hard stern face with deep wrinkles and weathered-looking cheeks. Daddy always said that he took after his mother, who had also died before I was born. In her photographs she looked like a diminutive, soft woman, from whom Daddy had probably inherited his quiet, conservative manner.

  I often studied the photographs of Daddy's parents, searching for some resemblances to myself. I thought his mother's eyes were like mine in some pictures, but in others, they looked quite different.

  He looked up slowly from his desk when he realized I had entered his office. For the first few moments, it was as if he didn't recognize me. Then he stood up quickly, his face filled with amazement.

  "How do I look, Daddy?" I asked tentatively.

  "You look so . . . grown up. What has your mother done to you?"

  "Is it all right?" I asked anxiously.

  "Oh, yes. I didn't realize how beautiful you were becoming, Leigh. I guess I'd better stop thinking of you as being a little girl." He simply stared a little longer. It made me very self-conscious. I felt myself blush. "Well now," he said finally, coming around his desk to me. "I'll have two beautiful women on my arms tonight. How wonderful." He hugged me to him, and warmed my cheeks with kisses.

  "Are you sure I look all right, Daddy?"

  "Of course, I'm sure. Come on now, let's see how many more hours it will be before your mother comes down those stairs." He put his arm around me and we walked out to the staircase hall and looked up at the scaled, suspended staircase because Momma was descending.

  She looked as pretty as ever. Her eyes were sparkling so brightly, they were luminous. Her color was radiant and her hair had an angelic sheen to it. She winked at me as she made the turn.

  "Good grief, Cleave, you could have at least changed into a different suit from the one you wore all day," she said stepping down.

  "I did!" Daddy protested.

  Momma shook her head.

  "One is so much like the other, no one could tell." She brushed back a strand of my hair. "Doesn't Leigh look beautiful?"

  "Absolutely. Overwhelming. I can't think of when you looked more like mother and daughter," he said, but she seemed hurt by that. He saw it too and corrected himself quickly. "Actually, you look too young to have a daughter who looks this old. You look more like sisters," he concluded. Momma beamed.

  "See," she whispered as we started out, "you can always get them to do and say the right things if you want to."

  My heart fluttered and my breath caught in my throat and seemed to stay. Momma was really doing it: she was really sharing her womanly secrets with me. Dressed the way I was, going off to a fancy restaurant, I felt more thrilled and excited than I could remember.

  And then, at the restaurant, Daddy gave us another surprise. He announced that he had initiated a new Caribbean vacation cruise in hopes of stimulating more business. Primarily it was a cruise to Jamaica and he had made plans for us to go on the

  commencing voyage. We would leave next week with a bon voyage party and all.

  Momma was so speechless, she didn't look happy at first, even though just today she had complained about, ever going to Jamaica, which had become a vacation spot for the rich and famous.

  "But what about Leigh's schooling?" she asked.

  "We'll take her tutor along, just like the other times," Daddy replied and looked perplexed about her sudden concern.

  I thought it-was peculiar for her to be concerned about that, too. She had never been worried about it before.

  "I thought you'd be pleased," Daddy said. He looked heartbroken that Momma hadn't gotten more excited over his announcement.

  "I am pleased. It's just. . . just so unusual for you, Cleave, to do anything spontaneous." Her voice sounded strange to me, brittle. "It takes a moment to get used to." She looked at me and after a moment, she laughed and we went on with our birthday celebration.

  What a wonderful birthday this has been, I thought. And how perfect it was that Daddy had given me this diary in which to record these precious memories. It was as if he knew I would have so many special ones fins m now on and would want more than ever to put them down to save forever and forever.

  Today I felt some of what it would be to feel like a woman instead of a little girl. Deep in my heart, I wondered if Daddy would still bring me home little presents and call me his little princess. Part of me feared that if I grew up his love for me would change, would lessen.


  Momma came by after I had put out my lights and crawled into bed. She wanted to remind me about going to see Farthinggale Manor. I sensed how important it was to her that I like it. How could I not like the place she had described. It sounded like a fairy-tale kingdom.

  And this Tony Tatterton . . he sounded like a king!

  two AN ENCHANTED KINGDOM

  . I was hoping Daddy would come along with us to see Momma's murals, but even though it was a weekend, he had to go down to his office. He usually spent Saturdays there and often a part of Sunday afternoon. This particular weekend he was more depressed than ever about his business because it looked certain that he would have to sell off one of his ocean liners and cut staff. Airline companies were expanding even faster than he had first thought they would and continued to eat away his clientele. He said the airlines were going to offer people gourmet meals on board, food even made by famous chefs, and that people were more and more in a rush to get places. I didn't want to tell him that some of my girlfriends at school were dreaming of becoming airline

  stewardesses.

  Momma told him to invest in something else besides steamships and luxury liners, but he shook his head and replied that that was all he knew.

  "The captain goes down with his ship," he told me. "Right, Princess?" I felt terrible for him, but Momma didn't seem upset or concerned at all. She thought the new Caribbean cruises would help. She said she had been encouraging him to start them for some time.

  "But like all men," she told me, "he hates to let a woman tell him what to do. Really," she said, "men never stop being little boys. They like to be babied and pampered, and they are always so stubborn."

  I listened to what she said, but I didn't think Daddy was so stubborn, except about his office at home. But everyone is stubborn about something, I thought. Momma was stubborn about a lot of things too, and when I asked her about that, she said it was a woman's prerogative to be difficult at times. She said that it made men appreciate women more.

  "Never let a man take you for granted," she advised. We were having this discussion on the way to Farthinggale Manor. Usually we had a driver take us places, but this time Momma wanted to drive herself.