Casteel 04 Gates of Paradise (4 page)

Although he didn't it my image of what a multimillionaire would look like, I found him warm, intelligent and very friendly. He was very interested in my career and as soon as he heard I was studying a business curriculum, he offered me an opportunity to work in his enterprises. Can you imagine?
Of course, our conversation dealt mainly with your mother and with you. He was very interested in learning about you. At the end I felt somewhat sad, for he looked so lost and lonely in that huge house, hungry for anything I would tell him about the family.
Of course, we never got to talk about the reasons why Heaven and he no longer communicate, but I will tell you this. After spending time at Farthinggale with Tony Tatterton, I wished the breach between them could somehow be mended.
When I see you again, I will go into greater detail. At last you won't have to depend upon your and Luke's imagination to discover what Farthinggale Manor is all about. You have a witness who will tell you the truth. You might not want to paint any more pictures of it, but maybe that will be good because you can go on to happier and brighter subjects.
Can't wait to see you again.
Love, Drake
.
I put the letter down. For some reason it had brought me to tears, tears I hadn't realized were streaming down my face the entire time I had been reading Drake's description of Farthy and Tony Tatterton. It was like I had been reading the obituary of a dear friend.
Drake meant no harm, I'm sure. He did only what he thought I would have wanted him to do, but in doing it, he had brought the curtain down on fantasy and illusion and on childhood dreams, and left me feeling empty and sad.
More than ever now, I wanted to know what it was that had driven my mother away from
Farthinggale and left that distinguished elderly man alone in those enormous rooms and deep shadows.
I couldn't help myself. My soft weeping grew more and more intense until I was sobbing like a baby. When I exhausted myself with it, I fell asleep with Drake's letter clutched in my hands and woke with the ringing of my phone. I was so happy to hear Luke's voice.
"What is it?" he asked immediately. There really was something special about us being born on the same day. We always seemed to know instantly when the other was upset.
"Drake has written me a letter. He went to Farthinggale and he saw Tony Tatterton." For a moment he didn't respond.
"Really?"
"You'll have to come over so I can read it to you," I told him. "Oh Luke, it's not what we dreamt it was."
"I don't care what Drake's written or what it really is," Luke said defiantly. "Our dreams are important to us because they fill our lives with hope and light."
"Oh Luke," I said smiling at his determination to hold on to our precious, secret fantasies, "I hope you will always be nearby when I need someone to cheer me up."
"Of course I will," he promised.
But I couldn't help wondering if that too was just another one of our childhood fantasies.

Drake couldn't return from college until after the end of June because he had finals to take, but he phoned me a few days after he had mailed his letter to be sure I had received it and to tell me more about Farthy.

"Tony Tatterton showed me what was once Heaven's room when she first came to Farthy to live," Drake said in a voice lowered in confidence.

"He did!" My heart beat faster, louder, at just the thought of his being there, being where so many secret things involving our family had taken place. Of all of us, Drake had been closest to the answers to the questions that haunted. Were there any clues he might have missed that I would have seen?

"Or what was also your grandmother Leigh's room. I got a little confused about that because one moment he was telling me about Heaven and the next he was talking about Leigh."

"Maybe he's the confused one; maybe he's senile," I suggested.
"I don't think so. He still handles some of the business affairs for the Tatterton Toy Company, and when we began to talk. about my career and the economy, he seemed very sharp and up on everything."
"How does he look? Like he did in the pictures?"
"Not anymore. He's completely gray, and when I saw him, he obviously hadn't shaved for a few days. He was wearing what looked to be expensive clothing, but his jacket needed pressing, as did his pants, and his tie was stained. I don't think the butler, a man called Curtis, is much good any longer. His eyesight is apparently poor and it takes him ages to move from one room to another."
"Weren't there any maids?" I asked, a little astounded. I would have thought a man as rich as Tony Tatterton was surrounded by a staff of servants.
"I didn't see any, but I'm sure there must be at least one to clean up the areas he lives in. I met the cook because he helped serve the meal. His name is . . get this . . Rye Whiskey."
"Oh, I remember hearing Mommy mention that name," I squealed with excitement. Just hearing the name made the few stories from the forbidden past come alive for me. "He must be very old, too."
"Probably, but he doesn't show his age as much as the butler does. He was so grateful for another mouth to feed, he piled enough food for three on my plate. I liked him. He has a great sense of humor, and I could see he cares a great deal about Tony."
"How I wish I had been there too," I cried. Every moment would reveal a discovery and a new and better understanding of my family's past, I thought. To walk up those stairs and step into what had been my grandmother's and my mother's room! Perhaps I would have seen something that would immediately solve the mystery of why my mother disliked Tony Tatterton so much and refused to go back, even for a visit.
Most of all I would be in Luke's and my dream world. Would it prove to be anything like we imagined? Would it be the place where we could be free and true, where we would be isolated and protected from all the harsh, nasty, ugly, and distorted things that make life a burden sometimes?
To paint it as it really was! How exciting that would be. I could see myself set up on the big front lawn, the enormous building spread before me.
"You wouldn't want to be there," Drake said in a tone of discouragement. "Believe me. It was too sad. I promised I would keep in touch with him, so I think I'll phone him in a few days. I rather like the possibility of working in his company, as an executive, of course. But don't tell Heaven I said that."
"Of course not." Once again I was surprised at Drake's willingness not only to keep all this from my mother but to pursue a relationship with Tony Tatterton, something which she would despise intensely. What sort of a man could Tony Tatterton be, I wondered, that he could have such a dramatic effect on Drake and be such a strong influence, even now?
"Well, anyway, I'll see you in a few weeks. I'm afraid I will have to miss Fanny's big birthday party, which is something I regret. She wrote to tell me she's going to have a band, and that she's having it catered. She's invited loads of people, many of your parent's friends, too. She even hired people to decorate her house and grounds. Can you imagine throwing yourself such a big celebration! I just know she's setting up her own audience for one of her outlandish shows. Take notes so you can tell me all the ridiculous and embarrassing things she does. I imagine she will invite all her young boyfriends, who will gather around her like suitors at the feet of a queen. I laugh just thinking about it."
"It's not funny for Luke," I said, sorry to see that even Drake had to make fun of Fanny. "He doesn't even want to go! He dreads it!" I exclaimed.
"So?" Drake said with surprising indifference and insensitivity. "Tell him to hide in his room. I'll call you again after I speak with Tony again, and let you know anything else of interest."
I couldn't stop thinking about what he had seen and what he had done.
"Oh, Drake, you were the only one of us who was ever there and now you've been back and will go again," I whined like a jealous little girl. I couldn't help it.
"You'll be there, too, through me," Drake promised, his voice softer, kinder, "and it won't be any fantasy game. Talk to you soon. Bye."
I couldn't wait for our lunch break the following day at school, so I could tell Luke all about Drake's phone call. I never expected him to be as excited as I was, because he didn't have family roots at Farthy and wasn't as concerned about the ancestors and the mysteries surrounding my mother's past, but he usually got involved because of our fantasies. He sat munching on his sandwich listlessly and listened, but I could see he was terribly distracted and troubled. Unlike his usual self, he refused to talk when I questioned him. I thought about him all the rest of the school day, and after it ended, asked him to walk me home, just so I could question him some more.
It was one of those late spring days that was more like the peak of summer, with puffy, fat white clouds sliding lazily across the turquoise sky. As Luke and I walked along, we heard the clink and clank of ice in pitchers of lemonade. Elderly people sat out on their porches and stared out curiously. Once in a while we could hear someone say something like, "That's the Stonewall girl," or "Ain't that a Casteel?"
I hated the way they pronounced "Casteel," making it sound like a curse word, like a family less than human. I knew much of why people saw the Casteels the way they did was because of my aunt Fanny's behavior over the years, and the fact that the Casteels were people from the Willies, mountain people who were not as educated and had a fraction of the wealth town people had. Town people were disdainful of the way Willies people dressed and lived, and a lot of that was understandable, but why couldn't they see how wonderful Luke was and how much he had overcome? He was right. "Go for the tall ones!"
I especially loved this walk home from school in spring because the streets were lined with flowering trees and shrubs, lawns were fresh and kelly green, tulips, irises and azaleas were blossoming, walkways and patios were scrubbed clean. Starlings sat like sentinels on telephone lines, watching the traffic of cars and people below. Robins, perched on branches, peaked out with curious eyes between cool, rich green leaves. Only an occasional hummingbird flew nearby. They seemed to have endless energy no matter how hot it was. The world looked fresh and alive.
For most of the walk home, Luke was closedlipped and walked with his head down. When I stopped at the entrance to the walk of Hasbrouck House, I could see he was unaware we had arrived.
"Do you want to sit in the gazebo for a while?" I asked hopefully, for I wanted to keep him with me until he told me exactly what was bothering him.
"No, I'd better get home," he said, his voice filled with melancholy.
"Luke Toby Casteel!" I finally exclaimed, my hands on my hips. "You and I are not in the habit of keeping secrets from one another, even if they are painful ones."
He stared at me a moment, looking as if he had suddenly woken up and realized I was there. Then he shifted his eyes away.
"I was accepted to Harvard yesterday on a fully paid, tuition scholarship," he said with a surprising absence of feeling and excitement.
"Oh, Luke, how wonderful!"
He put his hand up to indicate that wasn't all he was going to say about it, and then looked down again and gathered his strength to continue as I waited with a lump in my throat.
"I never even told my mother I had applied to Harvard. Every time I used to mention it, she would go into one of her tirades about the blue bloods and this ungrateful family that thinks it's so much better than her. She would rant and rave about Uncle Keith and Aunt Jane and how they won't ever call her or write her or acknowledge her existence. It bothers her that she was never invited to Farthinggale, not even to your parents' wedding reception. In her mind she links it all together: Harvard, the Tattertons, wealth, and those she calls "Bean Town Snobs."
"But Luke, that's so unfair to you," I consoled him. He nodded.
"Anyway," he continued, "I didn't tell her about my application. Yesterday the acceptance announcing the scholarship came in the mail and she opened it. Then she got drunk and ripped it up. I found the pieces on the floor in my room."
"Oh, Luke, I'm sorry." I cringed just thinking what it must have been like for him to walk into his room and discover such an important piece of mail scattered all over the floor.
"That's all right. Her ripping it up won't stop me from going. It was the ugly things she said while she was in one of her drunken states."
Without his having to tell me, I knew what direction her ugly words had taken.
"About my father?" He nodded. I took a deep breath to prepare myself. "You might as well tell me." I closed my eyes and winced at the anticipated ugliness.
"I won't tell you all of it because some of it was so vicious and hateful, I don't want to remember it myself, much less repeat it to you. The worst part was when she accused me of being more like Logan than her, being more loyal to his goody-two-shoes side of the family than to her, but really, Annie, your parents treat me better than she does. She's hardly ever home to make dinner, but she hates me for spending so much time at your house!"
"Oh, she doesn't hate you, Luke."
"She hates half of me, the Stonewall half, so she gets drunk and runs off with one of her young boyfriends and then chastises me because I don't like her when she's drunk and with them!"
"I'm sorry, Luke, but soon you'll be going off to college and you'll be away from all this," I promised, even though I hated the thought that he and I would be separated.
"The thing is, I don't hate her, Annie. I hate what she does to herself sometimes, and I feel sorry for her and the life she's had. So I worked hard and did well and made it possible for her to be proud and walk with her head high, not that she wouldn't anyway," he added. I smiled. Aunt Fanny wouldn't hesitate to flaunt any of her success to anyone in Winnerrow. "But instead of being happy I was accepted to Harvard on a full scholarship, she accuses me of deserting her."
"She will change her mind," I assured him. Poor Luke, I thought. He had worked so hard to make us all proud of him and his mother had torn that pride into pieces and left it lying like garbage on the floor. How his heart must have broken. I wanted to comfort him, to soothe his mental anguish, to hold him in my arms and help him to feel content and happy once again. I could do it, if only . . . if only there wasn't so much preventing me.
"I don't know. Anyway, I'm not looking forward to her birthday party. She has invited every man who's taken her out and some of her low-class friends, just so she could rub it into the family." He shook his head. "It's not going to be nice or any fun for us."
"My mother will handle it; she always does," I said as my admiration for my mother brightened my spirits. "She can be a lady no matter what. I hope have half her strength when I'm her age."
Luke nodded knowingly, that deep analytical look in his eyes as he came to his conclusion.
"You will. You're just like her."
"Thank you. There is no one I would rather be like. And don't worry about the party. I'll be there with you to help if Aunt Fanny gets out of hand," I assured him, my eyes as intense and my face as determined as Mommy's could be when she was decided about something.
"You haven't seen her really out of hand, Annie," Luke warned. Then he shook his head and smiled, his face brightening. "Anyway, thanks for listening. You've always been there when I've needed you and it's always made a difference. You don't realize how much of a difference, Annie. Just knowing you were there for me helped me to go on, to climb those taller mountains, to want to see that view. When I was accepted to Harvard, I thought to myself, Annie will be proud and it's because of Annie that I want this so much, want to make so much of myself. Sometimes, I feel you're the only real family I have. Thank you, Annie."
"You don't have to thank me for that, Luke Toby, Jr." I didn't like the way it sounded, like I was just a good friend. I was more; I had to be more. I wanted to be more. "You have often listened to my troubles, too."
He smiled at my reminder, his blue eyes turning as soft and warm as the sky above us.
"I'll miss you when you go off to Europe to study art. I know how important it is to you, though," he added softly. "And I know it's going to help you become the wonderful artist you are meant to become."
"I'll write to you all the time, but I'm sure after the first week, you'll have yourself a "bean town" girlfriend." How I wanted to tell him that I would always be his girlfriend, but how could I? We were brother and sister and it seemed as if the whole world stood between us and what we really wanted, for I knew in my heart that he felt some of what I felt and there was a part of both of us that cried and mourned and wished we could stay together forever and ever.
So we had to pretend, to talk about each other finding someone else, even though in our hearts, we hoped and prayed it would never happen.
His smile disappeared and he turned as serious as a deacon on Sunday.
"I don't know. After having you for a friend all my life, she's going to have to be pretty perfect whoever she is." His shiny blue eyes swung my way again, filled with warmth and affection, but it was more than just a brotherly affection. He looked at me with such longing I felt a flush move up my neck and settle into my cheeks. He was looking at me and I was looking at him the way two young lovers would.
There was no denying it. Every part of me cried out to embrace him; I could almost feel his lips against mine. He waited, looking for some
encouragement. I had to stop it before it went too far.
"I'll call you later," I whispered in a breathy voice, and ran down the walkway to the front entrance of Hasbrouck House. When I looked back, he was still standing there. He waved and I waved back. I slipped into the house and rushed up to my room quickly, my heart thumping harder than ever. Why did Luke have to be my half brother, closer to me than anyone my age could be? We shared so much, our happiness and our sadness.
How I wished that he was a stranger going to Harvard, and I was visiting Tony Tatterton at Farthinggale, and Luke and I had just met in Boston. Perhaps we would meet in a department store. He would come up beside me and say something like, "Oh that's not your color. Here." He would reach for the aqua shawl. "You want to bring out the blue in your eyes."