Casteel 05 Web of Dreams Read online

  "You push that like you're pushing a broom," he said.

  Although he wasn't very good-looking because his mouth was too long and his nose was too thin, he did have a friendly, warm smile, once he let himself smile.

  "I wouldn't know. I never pushed a broom," I retorted and turned my back to them. That made them both laugh.

  "You better not make fun of her," Clara said with her hands on her hips. "Her father owns the ship."

  "Oh?" Fulton suddenly became more interested and very soon after, they joined our game, first to give us instructions, and then just to have fun. We all had lunch together and decided to go to the beach together that afternoon. The Spenser sisters giggled and whispered most of the time, which I thought was very impolite and immature. Before the afternoon ended, they were off to themselves, splashing and frolicking in the water, and I was left with both boys, lying between them on a great beach towel.

  It was a cloudless day with the sea breeze making the sun seem less intense than it really was, but I had all Momma's suntan oils and skin creams. Fulton, Raymond and I talked about many things, including school, the new movies and fashions. For the most part, I found they liked and disliked many of the same things I did.

  Fulton's family had a seaside home on Cape Cod, and when I mentioned having been to the sea recently at Farthinggale Manor, I was surprised to learn that not only did he know of it, but his father had purchased two Tatterton Toys, a replica of the Tower of London, and a replica of the Bastille.

  "They're wonderful!" Fulton exclaimed. "There's even a working guillotine. If you put your pinky finger under it, it would cut the tip off."

  "I think I can do without that," I said grimacing.

  "A number of my parents' friends have Tatterton collector's toys. My father instructed the manager of the Tatterton Toy Store to inform him the moment any other famous prison has been made."

  "My mother wants my father to get a Tatterton toy," Raymond said. "He's supposed to buy one this Christmas."

  "My parents are very proud of them," Fulton added. He wanted to know what Farthinggale Manor was like, so I described it and told them both about Tony and Troy and the maze. They seemed fascinated and I was very proud of myself for being so interesting and attractive to two older boys, both of whom were obviously very rich and very well traveled. I thought Momma would be very proud of me as well.

  I kept calling to the Spenser sisters and telling them to put on some skin creams, but they didn't listen so both of them got bad shoulder and neck burns before we quit the beach and returned to the ship.

  "You know," Fulton said while he looked out at the Spenser sisters, "it's very difficult, if not impossible, to believe you are their age."

  "You could pass for a high school senior," Raymond said and Fulton agreed. In the bright sunlight my blushing was undetected, but I felt a tingle of excitement in the way they both gazed at me now.

  That night I waved to them from the captain's table where I sat with Daddy and the governor of the Island. Everyone talked about the tourist industry and how Jamaica was growing to be one of the most popular spots in the Caribbean. When the governor described his hope that it would be the sort of vacation paradise not only the very rich and

  glamorous would enjoy, but the middle class as well, I thought it was good Mamma wasn't here. She would be very disappointed in learning that, for she was always looking for special places that only the very rich or famous visited.

  I saw that Clara and Melanie hadn't come to dinner. When I inquired about them, Mr. and Mrs. Spenser told me they were back in their suite suffering with their very bad sunburns. After dinner Raymond and Fulton escorted me to the Caribbean show, which turned out to be one of the most exciting shows I had ever seen on any of Daddy's luxury cruises. There were folk dancers in colorful costumes and straw hats, calypso musicians with a twenty-piece steel-drum band and folk singers who sang songs about love on the islands.

  After the entertainment portion, guests were invited to try the limbo. They had to dance and lean back and slip under this bamboo pole without touching it. It was lowered and lowered until there was barely anyone left in the game. At that point an island dancer dropped his body until he was barely inches from the floor and moved under the pole with the agility of a snake. The audience loved it.

  I spent the entire next day with Fulton and Raymond. They taught me how to play chess and we went swimming on the beach again. In the cooler, later afternoon, we went shopping in the street markets and I found a beautiful hand-painted silk scarf I knew Momma would love. I bought Daddy an ornamental cane covered with carved fish.

  Fulton and Raymond wanted to take me on a glass-bottom boat and tour the harbor, but I was anxious to get back to the ship and dress for dinner because this was the night Daddy was taking me to a Jamaican restaurant instead of our eating aboard. I was looking forward to the two of us having a wonderful evening together, talking. I put on some of the costume jewelry Momma had left me and sat before my mirror brushing my hair just the way she always did, counting out one hundred strokes. I put on the lipstick just the way she showed me and sprayed myself with jasmine perfume. I wore a bright blue silk blouse with a lace embroidered collar and a full pleated matching skirt. So that I would look older and more sophisticated, unbuttoned the first two buttons of my blouse.

  My face was evenly tanned and the silver earrings and bright blouse highlighted it well. I felt that I looked sensational and I hoped against hope that Daddy would think so too. Older boys liked me and found me fun and interesting and mature. I was wearing Momma's jewelry and perfume and I admitted to myself for the first time that there were strong resemblances between us. Perhaps I really was going to be beautiful after all. Was it vain to think it? I couldn't help admiring my own image in the mirror, even though I knew it wasn't very nice to be conceited. But there was no one here, no one would know, I thought.

  I stood there assuming different poses, trying to imitate some of Momma's expressions and looks. I sucked in my cheeks, turned my shoulders, drew my shoulders back and thrust out my breasts until they looked more prominent. I pretended a handsome, young man was looking at me across the dance floor. Should I smile back and encourage him? Momma probably would, I thought, even though Daddy wouldn't like it. I turned slowly and smiled. Then I laughed at myself. But it was fun to be silly.

  I took a deep breath, gazed at myself in the mirror one more time to check my hair, and then went out to meet my date, Daddy.

  He was waiting for me on deck. Suddenly I felt all quivery over how I would look to him, but he took one glance at me and smiled widely, his eyes brightening just the way they often did when Momma appeared all dressed up to go to a gala or to a fancy restaurant.

  "Do I look all right?" I could almost hear Momma whispering behind me: "It's all right to fish for compliments, Leigh. A woman should sound a little insecure, no matter how sure of herself she might be."

  "You look gorgeous, Princess." He turned to his right. "We have the prettiest date in Jamaica tonight," he declared to Captain Willshaw.

  "No question about that," Captain Willshaw said, stepping forward. I had been so anxious about how I looked to Daddy when he first saw me that I hadn't even noticed the captain standing on the sidelines.

  I couldn't help my look of confusion, nor my look of disappointment when Daddy added, "The captain has recommended what he has found to be the best restaurant in Jamaica, and he has agreed to join us for dinner, Leigh. Isn't that nice?"

  "Join us for dinner? Oh. Yes."

  But Daddy, I thought, what happened to our private date? Don't you understand what is in my heart of hearts? Couldn't you see that I needed you and you alone with me tonight? What happened to what was supposed to be our wonderful night in Jamaica when we would comfort each other and grow closer to each other? Oh, I had so many private and personal things to tell him. I wanted to tell him about Fulton and Raymond and about Tatterton Toys and what I had bought for Momma. I wanted to tell him how I was pl
anning to try harder not to displease her and do things that would cause them to fight.

  Mostly, I wanted him to look at me and be reminded of her and then I wanted to hear him tell me how much he missed her and needed her. I hoped to have him tell me about their first days together when their romance was intense and true, the way I hoped love would be for me someday.

  We would walk hand in hand through the Jamaican night after dinner and feel happy again under the stars.

  But instead, Daddy and Captain Willshaw talked about the cruise. They went through it all, endlessly evaluating each and every day, each and every event, reviewing what they would change, what they would improve or increase. I listened politely. Normally I might have been interested but tonight I had wanted my father to treat me like a woman. I was bored and terribly unhappy. Even though the food was delicious, I lost my appetite and had to force myself to eat, but Daddy didn't seem to notice.

  We had to return to the ship immediately after dinner because it was the last night in Jamaica and there was a show and a ball planned. I told Daddy I had to go to my suite for a while and I would meet him later.

  "Just like your mother, you've got to go powder your nose, eh, Princess?" he asked. He winked at the captain.

  "Yes Daddy," I said, my eyes down. I felt two small tears in the corners of my eyes. They lingered without falling.

  "You all right? That food wasn't too spicy, was it? You're not overtired, are you?" he asked, his voice filled with fatherly concern.

  "No Daddy." I had to bite the inside of my mouth to keep from crying or screaming. Why was he talking to me as if I were a little girl again? Why couldn't he see what was really wrong? Were men simply insensitive to the things women felt? I had so many questions running through my mind, questions that I guess only another woman could answer.

  When I entered my suite, I felt so letdown and alone that all I could do was sit on the bed and cry. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror--my hair brushed and shining, my beautiful clothing, Momma's jewelry and my evenly tanned face now changed by sadness and tears. I thought I looked pathetic and ridiculous, like some little girl trying to imitate her mother. I had hoped that when Daddy set eyes on me and had inhaled Momma's jasmine perfume, he would have lost himself in the memories of her and be soft and precious with me. But none of that had happened.

  Never had I felt I needed Momma more. I wanted her to tell me what she felt like when she had dressed herself up and not dazzled a man the way she had planned to. What could I do? I couldn't talk intimately with anyone on this ship, certainly not the Spenser sisters, or someone else's mother.

  How horrible it must be for a real orphan, I thought, never to have anyone you trust and who loves you and will not laugh at you when you told her your deepest, most heartfelt feelings. Tonight, I felt like an orphan, cast out on the sea, floating aimlessly about, lost in the waves to be tossed here and there with no one to hear my cries.

  I wiped my tear-streaked face and looked at myself in the mirror. Maybe Daddy and I would have our private chat in a day or so on the way home. Maybe it was very hard for him to talk about these things and he was deliberately finding ways to avoid talking about them. He had so much on his mind, so much responsibility and worry, and didn't need me to add to the list. I would have to be more understanding and more patient, I thought. I straightened up.

  "No one cares about someone who is pathetic and weak," Momma once told me. "Pity is the most degrading emotion. Even if you are upset, don't give anyone the satisfaction of knowing it. It makes them feel superior."

  "All right, Momma," I whispered, as if she were here in my suite beside me, "I'll do what I must do. No one will know my secret, sad thoughts. I'll do it for Daddy and I'll do it for you, and I'll do it for myself."

  I stood up with determination, but in my secret, putaway heart I knew that when I returned to my suite at the end of the evening and crawled under the covers and put out the lights, I would sob like a baby in the darkness until I cried myself asleep.

  The journey home seemed so much longer because I was so anxious to get there to see Momma and to see Momma greet Daddy. I got down on my knees every night and prayed that she would be less angry with him. I did a lot of reading and worked on my lessons with my tutor, Mr. Abrams. I played chess with Raymond and Fulton and went to the movies and shows with them and spent time with the Spenser sisters. Daddy seemed busier than ever. I barely caught a glimpse of him at all during the last day at sea. He didn't eat lunch with me, and when we finally sat down together at dinner, he was distracted by so many people: guests who came by to tell him how much they had enjoyed the cruise and members of the crew and staff who came by with questions.

  The night before we were to sail into Boston Harbor, Raymond and Fulton came to see me separately to give me their addresses and get mine. They each promised to write and even visit first chance each had. I was very flattered by their attention. Raymond kissed me on the cheek, pecking it quickly and pulling away, his face red. It was the first time a high-school-age boy had kissed me and I couldn't stop the flutter of butterfly wings under my heart. Fulton just shook my hand, but he kept his shoulders back and his eyes fixed on me as if he wanted to drink in my face and never forget it.

  After they left me, I saw to my packing. Daddy told me to leave my bags just inside the suite door and the porters would come by to pick them up while I was having breakfast. Our schedule called for us to dock shortly after breakfast. I was so excited, I had a terrible time falling asleep. I wrote and wrote in this diary until my eyelids drooped, but even after I put out the lights and closed my eyes, I kept thinking about all the things I wanted to tell Momma. I didn't want to forget a thing.

  As soon as the first rays of morning light came through my window, I hopped out of bed and took my shower. I wanted to have my breakfast quickly and go out on deck to watch us approach Boston. But after I had gotten dressed and had just finished brushing my hair, I heard a knock on my door. It was Daddy.

  He was dressed in his dark suit, but he didn't look as handsome as he usually did. He looked like he had been up all night and had gotten dressed in the dark. His tie knot was not tied tightly and his suit jacket looked wrinkled. His hair looked a little bit mussed.

  "Good morning, Princess," he said softly. My heart began to pitter-patter. He looked so sad; his face was as gray as his hair.

  "Morning, Daddy. Isn't everything on

  schedule?" I felt so very afraid suddenly, but I tried to tell myself that something had gone wrong and our docking had been postponed.

  "Yes, yes." He smiled weakly and closed the door behind him. "I wanted to see you before you went to breakfast and we docked."

  I turned completely around in my vanity table chair. Daddy fidgeted nervously for a moment and looked around my suite as if he were unsure of where he should sit. Finally, he sat on the end of my bed. He clasped his hands and leaned toward me. He was quite upset about something--I could tell because the small muscles in his jaw were jumping and the veins in his temples were pressing so hard against his skin, they looked as if they would pop out. For a long time he said nothing until I got so nervous I thought I would scream.

  "What's wrong, Daddy?" I held my breath.

  "Leigh," he began, "I waited until the last possible moment to come here to tell you this. I wanted to hold off as long as I could to hold sadness away for as long as I could."

  "Sadness?" I brought my hands to the base of my throat and sat so still, waiting, unable to breathe, for him to say more. I heard the pounding of my heart and felt the slight rocking of the ocean liner in the water. Above and around us were the sounds of the guests and the crew preparing for the final morning aboard ship--people talking loudly and excitedly on their way to have their breakfasts, porters getting instructions, doors closing, children laughing and running. Excitement and tumult rained down around us making the silence between us that much deeper and more disturbing. Inside, my blood felt that it was freezing, leaving me a stif
f ice princess instead of flesh and blood.

  "You'll remember when you and I had that little discussion right after your mother left us in Jamaica that I told you she was going off to do some thinking," he began again.

  "Yes?" My voice sounded so tiny, so

  frightened.

  "I told you she was disappointed in me, disappointed in the way things were between us." He swallowed hard. I nodded, just so he would continue because he seemed to be swallowing back his words. "Well, a few days ago, Leigh, I received a telegram on board ship. It was from your mother and she informed me she had gone ahead with one of her possible choices."

  "What choices? What has she done?" I shot out in dismay.

  "She flew from Miami to Mexico, instead of from Miami to Boston, and processed a divorce," he said quickly, as quickly as a doctor would give a patient bad news, so as not to draw out something so painful.

  But his words hung in the air as if they had been frozen there. My heart fluttered beneath my breast and then became a thumping drum. Numbness tingled in my fingers because I had them locked so tightly together.

  "Divorce?" It was such a forbidden word, such a foreign word. I had read about the divorces of movie stars and other entertainers. It seemed to be a natural course of events for them, almost something expected; but I had no friends whose parents had divorced, and the students in school whose parents were divorced were somehow thought of as different, sometimes avoided as if they had leprosy.

  "Actually," Daddy said sighing, "I almost feel a bit relieved. For months now I've been waiting for that second shoe to drop over my head. Barely a day has gone by without your mother expressing her unhappiness with me or without us having angry, bitter words between us. I did my best to hide it all from you, as I think your mother did as well.