Fallen Hearts Page 34

  He studied me for a long moment. I could almost hear his little mind working.

  "Why is it so hard?" he asked, shrugging his little shoulders. I laughed and hugged him.

  "Oh, it shouldn't be hard. You're right, honey. It should be easy to love and hard to hate. Let's make it that way forever and ever between us, okay?"

  He nodded and I stood up, still holding his hand.

  "Are we going now?" he asked.

  "Yes, honey."

  We walked out to the living room, where Fanny sat curled up on her couch. Drake stared at her in

  anticipation.

  "Yer goin' ta go live with Heaven after all, Drake, honey. She's got a bigger house and servants and kin take better care a ya, but I'll still see ya from time ta time. Jus' be a good boy and don't fergit yer sista Fanny," she added and held out her arms. Drake looked up at me before going to her and I nodded.

  Fanny embraced him and then quickly kissed him and released him.

  "So long, Fanny." She stared at me and then she turned away to gaze out her window. Once again she was to be alone. Perhaps Randall would return, I thought, especially when he found out how much money Fanny was going to have. Only that didn't make me feel better for her. "Don't let your lawyer take advantage of you, Fanny," I advised. She nodded without turning my way. "Okay, Drake," I said and we started out.

  I looked back after I got Drake into the car and saw her face pressed against the window, framed in the frost, a portrait of loneliness. She would be rich, rich enough to feel she had caught up with me, but she would be so poor.

  Drake was silent in the car as we rode back to the Hasbrouck House, but when we pulled into the driveway, I saw his face light up like a Christmas tree.

  "My fire engine still there?" he asked.

  "Of course it is, honey. All of your toys are still here."

  He opened his door and ran around the car. I followed him to the door. As soon as we entered the house, Logan came out of the study and his face brightened instantly.

  "Hey, champ," he said, "welcome back."

  I nearly cried again when Logan rushed forward and took Drake into his arms, covering his cheek with kisses.

  "He hasn't had any supper yet, Logan."

  "Oh, no? Good, because Roland's made a roast. A big beautiful roast. How do you like that, champ?" Drake smiled and then thought.

  "I love roast beef, it's my favorite meal. That's what I always got on my birthday. Is today my birthday?"

  Both Logan and I laughed hard. It felt so good, I didn't want to stop. Our outburst puzzled Drake, who finally smiled and then laughed himself.

  He was really home, and in that moment I saw that we already were a real family.

  NINETEEN The Music Box

  THANKSGIVING WAS TRULY A FEAST OF THANKS THAT YEAR, with Logan and Drake and Logan's parents, and my baby growing inside me. By Christmas I began to feel its little kicks, as if life both inside and outside of me were dancing in celebration. Drake loved to put his warm little hands on my burgeoning belly and feel the baby moving inside me. For the first time in my life, I had my own home, my own family, my own happiness.

  Logan never asked me what I had offered Fanny to have her give up custody of Drake. I never told him that I had telephoned Steine to contact Tony and ask that he transfer one million dollars to Fanny. I knew Tony would do it; I knew he still hoped he could buy my affection again. But I had neither thanked him nor even acknowledged his compliance. That would come another time, when old wounds were better healed.

  One night before bed Logan smiled and said, "Drake's a wonderful little boy. I'm glad we've got him back."

  "Oh, Logan. Thank you." I hugged him. "Thank me? For what?"

  "For loving us as much as you do," I sobbed. It

  made him laugh.

  "Couldn't stop that if I tried." He kissed me

  softly on the forehead.

  A few days later Logan returned from the

  factory to tell me he had heard Randall had left Fanny

  and gone back to college, but Fa ny wasn't very upset

  about it.

  "Some of my employees were jabbering about

  her during lunch. Seems Randall told some people

  how she treated him. She said," Logan continued,

  imitating Fanny, "now that I'm rich as Heaven, I don't

  want ya ta come back. Well, I got more money than I

  kin spend and lots a handsome young men will be

  knockin' on ma door. So don't come back here later on

  with yer tail between yer legs and 'spect me ta go

  runnin' inta yer arms." He paused and looked at me

  expectantly. "Where did Fanny get the money,

  Heaven?"

  I told him the truth and he listened without a

  word of judgment. He didn't tell me that I had done

  the same thing to Fanny that Tony had done to Luke,

  he didn't chastise me. He only smiled and said, "Well,

  I'll just have to work that much harder to make the Willies factory a huge success and pay all that money

  back to Tony, so we'll never owe him anything again." I embraced him and gave him a hundred kisses

  for being the best husband in the world.

  We went about our lives, hearing stories about

  Fanny from time to time, the things she bought, the

  people she associated with. Occasionally, she came

  around to see Drake. He was always very polite to

  her, but I could see he was afraid she would try to take

  him away again. Every time she came and left, I

  reassured him that wouldn't happen.

  The winter flew by, and one day spring burst

  forth in all its glory. It was as if God had unwrapped a

  gift of flowers and green grass and warm blue-sky

  days. The whispering in the leaves, the songs of the

  wind in the grass, the wild flowers that scented the air

  with sweet perfume filled us with hope and made the

  days of sadness retreat with the chill of winter.

  Sunlight was everywhere.

  Appleberry pruned and planted and our home

  blossomed like a great flower itself. Drake's

  melancholy moods thinned until they were hardly ever

  there, although once in a while he would become

  pensive and thoughtful and wonder about his mother

  and father.

  The factory got off to a wonderful start. Logan

  surprised me with his insight into marketing. He

  traveled all over the country, setting up outlets, finding markets. It wasn't long before he was expanding

  the work force at the factory, and people in Winnerow

  were even prouder of the enterprise.

  One morning, just after breakfast, the phone

  rang and I answered it. "Ya'll betta get ya husband

  right ova here," Fanny crooned. "Ma water done

  broke."

  "Who is it?" Logan asked.

  "It's Fanny," I said. "You'd better warm up the

  car. Her water just broke and she needs someone to

  take her to the hospital."

  "Heaven, I can't leave you now. You're

  expecting any minute, too," he said. He tried to take

  the phone out of my hand, but I covered the receiver

  with my palm.

  "Darling, despite all Fanny has done, she is my

  sister and she has no one else."

  "All right," Logan finally agreed, "but you're

  coming with me. I don't want you left alone with only

  the servants to rush you to the hospital. Besides," he

  said, grinning, "all those hours in that Lamaze class

  would be wasted. . . get your suitcase. You tell Mr. Appleberry to watch Drake. He always thinks it's a

  party when Mr. Appleberry plays with him." "We'll be right over," I t
old Fanny.

  "Well, ya better be, 'cause I'm about to pop any

  minute now. An I ain't gonna have ma baby en route.

  Ya tell Logan ta get here quick, ya hear?"

  Fanny was waiting for us on her front porch

  with two gigantic suitcases.

  "Ya put them in the trunk, Logan," Fanny said,

  spying me through the window. "Hey, Heaven, ya

  come to see how it's done?"

  Logan was struggling with the suitcase. "Fanny,

  what on earth do you have in here?"

  "All ma clothes and new slippers and . .Ya'll

  expect me to dress common now that I got me all this

  money?" Fanny said. Then she winced and grabbed

  hold of Logan's arm. "We betta hurry," she

  stammered.

  Logan sped to the hospital and pulled into the

  lane where the ambulances normally pull in. Fanny

  was yelling and carrying on in the backseat.

  "I'm gonna die from the pain!" she screamed.

  "I'm gonna die! Get me some of those knock-out drugs

  quick! I wanna be put ta sleep!"

  A couple of orderlies brought a gurney out and laid Fanny on top of it, covering her with a white sheet. She was still screaming when the automatic doors burst open and they rushed her down the

  corridor.

  "Give me somethin' to put me ta sleep!" Logan turned to me, putting his arm around me.

  "How are you doing, darling?"

  "I don't think my coming along with you and

  Fanny was a wasted trip," I said, smiling.

  "What?!" Logan stammered.

  "The baby's on its way," I said.

  "Oh, my God, I'll run and get a stretcher. I'll--" "I don't think that will be necessary," I said,

  laughing. "I can walk just fine."

  Logan paced back and forth, back and forth, as

  we waited for a labor room. The contractions had

  begun, but the pain wasn't bad, not bad at all.

  Sometime many hours later, with my sweet Logan at

  my side, counting my breathing and the minutes

  between my now painful contractions, the nurse came

  in to tell us that Fanny had given birth to a little boy.

  Early in the evening my own baby came into the

  world, screaming with two healthy lungs.

  "It's a girl!" the doctor said.

  A nurse quickly cleaned her and wrapped her up and laid her carefully on my chest. I folded down the blanket. She had my cornflower blue eyes, but dark brown hair, Troy's hair, hair that even curled at the back like his did. I gently counted her toes and fingers, and saw that her tiny fingers were shaped like Troy's, Tatterton fingers, fingers that might one day craft miniature people and houses. Logan didn't seem to notice any of that. He was so thrilled and taken

  with our child.

  "Would you like to hold her, Logan?" I asked.

  "I'm afraid I might break her, she's so small," he said. "Darling, you're the gentlest man I know.

  Here's your daughter," I said, lifting her to him. He carefully cradled the baby's head and drew

  the bundle to his chest. "Heaven," he said, staring

  enchanted into the infant's face, "all my life I thought

  you were the most beautiful girl on earth, but now I

  know our love has created a child even more

  beautiful."

  "Logan, I'd like to call her Annie, after my

  Granny."

  "Annie," Logan whispered to his daughter. She

  burst into furious screams.

  We both started to laugh. "I guess she knows

  her name," Logan said, handing me my beautiful

  baby. Soon the nurse came to insist that Logan go

  home to get some rest and let me rest. She took the

  baby into the nursery and I slept for a few hours. I

  dreamed of my baby, of Logan and of Troy, and

  awoke with Annie's name on my lips. Oh, I was

  certain, I just knew she was Troy's baby, and I vowed

  Logan would never know--her love for him, and my

  love for him, would make it all up to him.

  I painfully scooted myself out of bed and

  slowly walked down the hall to the glassed-in nursery.

  A raucous voice greeted me from the end of the hall.

  "Well, looky who's finally up and about."

  Fanny was sitting in a wheelchair being pushed

  by a private nurse.

  "Which one's your little boy?" I asked. "Luke? I named him after Pa. Luke's there, the

  handsomest one in the row," she said. I could see her

  filled with genuine love and pride.

  "He is a beautiful baby," I agreed.

  "I knew ya would think so, Heaven. Ya married

  his fatha and he looks just like 'im. Where's yer little

  girl?"

  I pointed out Annie She was howling.

  "Are ya sure, Heaven? Why, she don't look like

  no one around here."

  That sent a chill through me. Fanny could never

  know, never suspect the truth. I pasted a smile on my

  face. "Why, Fanny," I teased her, "with her wailing

  like that, she looks a little like you did last night." Even Fanny had to laugh.

  "I'll be seein' ya, sista," she said. Then she had

  her nurse push her back to her room. "An' don't go too

  fast! I wanna peek inta all the rooms," Fanny

  instructed her. "It's just like General Hospital in here." Ten days after we brought Annie home, I was

  upstairs in my bed nursing her when Logan arrived

  from the factory. He was so excited about our child

  that he would often leave the factory to make what he

  called "baby visits." He would rush in, hold the baby

  in his arms or watch her sleep for a while, and then go

  back to the factory.

  This particular afternoon when he came

  upstairs, he carried a box in his arms. It was marked

  FRAGILE.

  "What is it?" I asked, shifting the baby in my

  arm so I could sit up straighter.

  "I don't know," Logan said. "It was just

  delivered." He opened it and carefully lifted out its

  contents, placing it at my side on the bed.

  It was a perfectly rendered miniature of Troy's

  cottage. Everything was there, even the maze behind

  it.

  "Well, I'll be darned," Logan said. "Look at

  this. The roof lifts off."

  He removed it and tinkling chimes played

  Troy's favorite Chopin prelude. Within the cottage a

  man who looked just like Troy rested on the floor, his

  hands behind his head. At his side sat a girl who

  looked very much like me when I had first come to

  Farthy. Everything was just as it had been: the tiny

  furniture, tiny dishes, even tiny tools to make toys. Only Troy could have made this Only Troy. He

  knew. He knew she was his. And he wanted me to

  know he knew. This was his way of telling me, his

  way of claiming his daughter. Oh, Troy, how I wished

  things could have been different. And she was perfect!

  So perfect!

  "I don't see a card," Logan broke into my

  reverie. "Isn't that silly? One of our craftsmen made

  you this amazing present and forgot to put in a card.

  How can we thank him? I'll have to have some of my

  men see if they can find out who made this. It's

  spectacular, isn't it, Heaven? Such attention to detail.

  I'll bet," Logan said suddenly, "that Tony had someone do this. Maybe it's his way of apologizing,

  huh?"

  "Yes," I whispered.
I could barely talk, so overwhelmed was I by this token of Troy's forever abiding

  love. Logan thought it was because I was so taken

  with the beauty of the gift. "Could you put Annie back

  in her crib?" I whispered hoarsely.

  "Sure," he said.

  He took the baby from my arms and placed her

  gently in her crib. "I'll take this downstairs," he said,

  reaching for the tiny cottage.

  "No, that's all right, Logan. Leave it. I want to

  look at it for a while."

  "Sure. Well, I've got to get back to the factory.

  I'll talk to you later, okay?"

  "Okay."

  He kissed me on the cheek and rushed out. Again I opened the roof and the magical

  tinkling music filled the room. A cloud that had been

  blocking the sun moved off and the warm light came

  streaming through the window to caress the tiny

  cottage.

  The door to one of the closets of my memory

  opened and once again I heard the soft piano notes.

  The melody grew louder and then seemed to get caught up in the breeze that made the curtains on my bedroom window dance lightly against the glass. I looked out at the blue sky as if I could see the music find its way home, and then I put the roof back on the

  cottage.

  I would put the toy on a shelf in Annie's room

  until one day, many years from now, I would tell her

  what this cottage meant. I was sure that when I did,

  she would understand why I had to do as I've done.

  Because I would always tell her the truth, the truth

  that was me. And the truth always heals.