"Okay. And you look at yours, too. I gave you
something."
"Did you?" Momma and I had gone shopping
for Christmas presents and spent nearly all our time
trying to find something "right" for Tony, since he
had so much. She decided to get him a solid gold tie
clip with diamonds on the ends. Then she had "Love,
Jillian" inscribed on the back. I'd had trouble thinking
of anything good enough for Daddy. Mittens and silk
ties, expensive after-shave lotions, suede gloves, a
new pipe holder . . . nothing had the right meaning for
a Daddy that wouldn't open the gift with me there
beside him.
Then I saw something at one of the department stores that was not as expensive as other gifts I could get him, but filled my heart with pleasure and warmth when I thought of him unwrapping it and gazing at it. It was a special photograph to be taken next to a Christmas tree. On the bottom, the photographer embossed "Merry Christmas." And you could have your name embossed and the date, too. I bought a
handsome light pine frame for it as well.
When I posed for the picture, I smiled as
warmly and as lovingly as I could, for I knew it would
be the smile that Daddy would see forever and ever,
especially when he was lonely and wanted to think of
me. I had it wrapped and left it on Daddy's desk at our
Boston home so he would find it as soon as he
returned from his trip.
I decided to buy Troy an erector set, since he
was so good with his hands. It was a toy, but he could
do something creative with it too. It even had a little
electric motor, so if he made a tiny Ferris wheel, it
would actually turn. He was very excited about it
when he opened the package and saw it. To my
surprise, he knew exactly what it was. He got up
quickly and gave me a big hug and kiss.
"Thank you, Leigh. Now look at my present to
you," he said. "I made it myself and wrapped it
myself."
I opened the small package and couldn't believe
my eyes. He had made it? It was a little ceramic horse
with a girl rider. The girl could be taken off
"That's Sniffles," Troy explained. "My horse.
And that's you riding it."
"You made this?"
"Not the little girl," he confessed. "Tony had
that made at his factory, but I made Sniffles. I took a
picture of her and traced it and shaped it and baked it.
Then I painted it myself," he added proudly. "It's beautiful, Troy. It's one of the best
Christmas presents I have ever received. Thank you."
I kissed him on the cheek. His eyes twinkled and then
he went back to unwrapping his presents. What a
wonderfully talented little boy he was, I thought. How
could Momma not be charmed by him?
"You have other presents," Troy said pointing.
There were at least-a-dozen different brightly
wrapped boxes with my name on them, some from
Momma, some from Tony, but a small box caught my
eye first, because I saw the emblem of Daddy's ocean
liner company on the card's envelope.
Carefully, lifted the box and ran my fingers
lovingly over the top. Troy was impressed with the reverent way I treated it. He put down his next gift
and drew closer to me.
"What is it?" he asked in a whisper.
"A Christmas present from my daddy.
Somehow, he got one here."
"Why don't you open it?" Troy's eyes swung
from the small box to me and back to the box. "I will." Gingerly, taking great care not to tear
the paper, I unwrapped the present to find a small,
dark blue velvet box.
I
opened it and took out a heavy,
gold locket in the shape of a heart with a sparkling
gold chain. I pressed the release button and the locket
opened to a tiny picture of Daddy and me standing on
The Jillian.
We both looked tanned and happy. I
remembered why I looked so happy. We were on the
way home and I thought I would find Momma waiting
for me at the dock.
"Can I see?" Troy asked. I held the locket out
and he plucked it carefully from my palm to gaze at
the picture. I saw his eyes widen and then grow small.
"I have a big picture of my daddy," he said. "But he's
not smiling. I told Tony and he said Daddy's smiling
in Heaven and he will always smile as long as I am
good."
"Then I'm sure he will always smile," I told him. I had him help me put on the locket and then we
returned to opening our gifts.
I spent Christmas Day helping Troy set up his
toys and put away his gifts of clothing. Late in the
afternoon, we watched some shows on his new
television set. We had a delicious turkey for
Christmas Day dinner, and Rye Whiskey prepared
vegetables with sauces I had never before tasted. Troy kept me so busy that I was grateful for the
reprieve when it came time for him to go to sleep. I
went to sleep early myself that night. I had promised
him that we would ride his pony in the morning,
which we did. In fact, there was so much to do at
Farthy--swimming in the indoor pool, cross-country
skiing, hiking to the ocean and back, horseback riding
and sleigh riding--that the first week passed quickly. Tony had an enormous library, and my favorite
book from his well-stocked shelves was
Lolita,
the
story of an older man's love affair with a twelve-yearold girl, a girl my age! I couldn't believe the things
she did and said. There were parts I reread and reread,
parts that made me blush and made my heartbeat
quicken. I kept the novel buried under the others so
the servants wouldn't know I had been reading it, just
in case any of them knew what it was about. I promised Troy we would spend New Year's
Eve in his room watching television. He was
determined he would stay up until twelve o'clock and
watch the people celebrating in Times Square, in New
York City. He held out until almost eleven, but by
then, his eyes had shut and his little chest rose and fell
in quiet, rhythmic breathing.
A little after eleven-thirty, Daddy called from
Florida. He sounded small and faraway. The phone
line crackled.
"I loved your Christmas present, Daddy. Yours
is waiting for you on your desk at home."
"I'll be there next week, so I'll call you after I
open it," he said. "How are you?"
"I'm okay, Daddy, but I miss you," I said, my
voice nearly breaking.
"And I miss you, too. In a few weeks, come by
and we'll spend a day together in Boston."
"I'll be in school by then, Daddy. You'll have to
come to Winterhaven. But it's not far from here." I
told him about the different things I had been doing. "Sounds like quite a place," he said sadly. "I'd rather be home with you, Daddy." "I know, sweetheart. We will be together soon.
I promise. Well now, let me wish you a Happy New Year. I know this past year has not been a happy one,
but hopefully, the next one will."
"Happy New Year, Daddy. I love you." "And I love you, Princess. Good night." "Good night, Daddy."
I pressed the receiver against my chest after he
had hung up, pressed it so hard it hurt. I didn't cradle
it until I heard the television announcer begin to count
down: "Ten, nine, eight . . ." Troy moaned in his sleep
and then turned over on his side. "Seven, six, five . ." I saw that it had begun to snow again. The
snowflakes were large and pretty. They fell so softly,
some clinging to the window for a moment before
turning into tears and streaming down the pane. "Four, three, two . ."
I held my new locket up against my lips and
kissed it, telling myself I was kissing Daddy. One . .
HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!"
The camera caught so many different faces--
people cheering, people laughing, people screaming,
people crying. I wished I were there with them, lost in
a crowd of strangers.
Nearly half of the pages of my diary are written
upon now. It's a good place to wish myself a "Happy
New Year." Of course, for me it's more than a new
year; it's a new life.
Happy New Year, Leigh VanVoreen.
Troy awoke with a bad cold on New Year's Day, the day Momma and Tony were returning from their honeymoon. By eight o'clock in the morning, he was running a high fever and Mrs. Hastings had to send for the doctor. I knew he was very sick because he made no effort to get out of his bed to play. While the doctor examined him, I waited outside in the hallway. Afterward, I heard Mrs. Hastings and the doctor conferring in the outer chamber of Troy's suite. The doctor emerged from Troy's suite first, his eyes dark and the lines of his face cut deeply with worry and concern. Mrs. Hastings followed, her eyes wet with tears. She held her handkerchief against her mouth and shook her head at me.
"What is it? What's wrong with him?" I asked frantically.
"The doctor thinks he's developing pneumonia. Oh dear me, dear me. He's going to call for an ambulance. He wants him in the hospital for X rays and treatment right away. Mr. Tatterton warned me that Troy has so little resistance to germs, but he was doing so well and he was so happy and energetic, I didn't think I let him overdo it," she cried.
"Now Mrs. Hastings, this is not your fault. Whenever he showed the slightest signs of getting cold outside, we always brought him in, and except for last night, which is the most special night of the year, he always went to sleep early. And he's been eating well, too," I added. "He didn't get sick after he and I were lost in the maze. You did wonders to prevent that from happening then, remember?"
"Yes, yes. Still, I feel so bad. I'll be right back. I have to see to some of the arrangements. Mr. and Mrs. Tatterton won't be home until the middle of the afternoon, but the doctor says we can't wait for them." She shook her head with worry.
"Can I go in to see him?"
"Yes, but don't get too close to him. Oh dear, dear," she mumbled and hurried to the stairway.
Little Troy looked so much smaller in his large bed with the covers brought up to his chin. I had dolls with heads bigger than his head appeared to be against the large, fluffy white pillow. His small ears, his tiny nose, his closed eyes, which looked no bigger than marbles, and his petite mouth, slightly open because of his difficulty in breathing, did make him seem like a fragile toy.
His cheeks were scarlet from his fever and his lips looked a little puffy. His hands were cupped into tiny fists, but the rest of his body was buried under the enormous down comforter. I stood by the side of his bed watching him. I didn't want to wake him. Suddenly he started to mumble in his fevered sleep.
"Daddy wake up, wake up," he said. Then with his eyes still closed, he grimaced. "Tony . . . Tony." His face twisted in agony. I went to him and took his tiny, warm hand into mine.
"It's all right, Troy. It's all right. I'm here."
"Tony . . . I want Tony. . . ."
"It's Leigh, Troy. Do you want me to get you a drink of water?"
"Tony," he muttered and shook his head. Then he squeezed his eyes closed even tighter as if he were trying to deny a picture in his mind. I touched his flushed cheek and became shocked and frightened by how hot his skin really was. It made my heart pound. I looked expectantly at the doorway. Where was the doctor? How could they leave him alone like this, even for a moment?
He swung his head from side to side, moaning softly.
"Troy," I cried, tears coming into my eyes. "Oh, my God," I whispered. I flew out of the room to find Mrs. Hastings. She and the doctor were downstairs talking softly with Curtis and Miles.
"Doctor, he's burning up in his bed! And he's moaning like he's in pain!" I exclaimed. The doctor looked at me and then at Mrs. Hastings, wondering who I was. She whispered something quickly in his ear.
"Oh." He nodded and turned to me. "Yes, we know, my dear. We have just decided that we will not wait for an ambulance. We are going to take Troy to the hospital in the limousine immediately. Mrs. Hastings was just going up to prepare him for the trip."
"Can I help?"
"No, I think it's best you just stay a good distance away. Don't want to, have two patients to rush off," he said smiling. How could he joke at a time like this? I thought. Mrs. Hastings started up the stairs. I was so fidgety and nervous, I could do nothing but wait and watch. A little while later, Miles emerged from Troy's suite with Troy bundled up in blankets, his pinkish face barely visible, and carried him toward the stairs. Mrs. Hastings followed close behind, saying, "Oh dear me, dear me."
It was hours before Miles and Mrs. Hastings returned, but the moment I heard them enter, I came running.
"It is definitely pneumonia," Mrs. Hastings declared, her lips trembling. She started to sob. "He's under oxygen. It's such a pathetic sight. Oh dear, dear."
I tried to comfort her.
"You should have something to eat, something hot to drink, Mrs. Hastings, and stop blaming yourself. It's no one's fault."
"Yes," she said. "Something hot to drink," she muttered. "You're so right. Thank you, dear." She went off to the kitchen.
"How is he really, Miles?" I asked. Somehow I knew he would tell me the cold truth.
"His fever is very, very high. Troy has a history of sickness and poor resistance. I'm afraid there is serious concern."
My heart sank. I could feel the blood rushing to my face. My butterflies exploded in a mad frenzy in my stomach, circling and circling, the tips of their paper-thin wings tickling my insides.
"You don't mean he could die, do you, Miles?" I held my breath to hear his reply.
"It's very serious, Miss," he said and gazed at his watch. "I have to be off to the airport. Mr. and Mrs. Tatterton will be arriving soon. I imagine I'll take them directly to the hospital," he added.
"Poor Tony and Momma. They'll be so shocked," I said. He nodded and left quickly.
I spent the rest of the afternoon waiting in trepidation. Every time I heard a phone ringing my heart stopped. None of the calls had anything to do with Troy, however. Unable to wait any longer, I had Mrs. Hastings call the hospital and ask the nurse on Troy's floor for an update. There had been no improvement. In fact, I gathered from the way Mrs. Hastings listened and nodded, her eyes widening, her mouth collapsing, that if anything, he was a little worse.
Finally, I heard a commotion at the front entrance and came out of the music room to see Momma making a grand entrance: servants carrying in luggage, and she shouting orders and complaining to Curtis about the cold weather and the long trip, Tony wasn't with her.
"MOMMA!" I shouted. "THANK GOD, YOU'RE BACK!"
"Amen to that," Momma said and followed it with a thin, long laugh. She pulled off her gloves. Even though she was complaining about the cold and the trip, she looked fresh and beautiful. She had bright, rosy cheeks and wore a new black sable hat and a matching sable coat with black velvet gloves and ski pants. Gold drop earrings dangled from her ears. She stepped aside so Miles could bring in the ski equipment.
She hugged me quickly and whispered, "You wouldn't think a honeymoon could be exhausting, Leigh, but believe me, this one was. I'm absolutely drained, sapped of every ounce of energy. I can't wait to get into my soft bed and close my eyes."
"But Momma, where's Tony? You know about Troy, don't you?"
"Of course. Tony went directly to the hospital. We left him there," she said. "Wait until you see some of the things I've bought in Europe, Leigh," she said without pausing for a breath. "After I've had a good rest, I'll show you everything and tell you everything." She leaned toward me again and whispered, "And I mean everything." Then she started for the stairway. "But for now . . . a hot bath . . rest . . ."
"But Momma, what about little Troy?" She turned at the foot of the stairway and looked confused. "What about him?"
"He's so sick and . ."
"Well, he's in the hospital, Leigh. What more can we do?"
"Did you see him?"
"Certainly not," she said shaking her head. "You don't expose yourself to those things if you don't have to."
"But . ."
"You didn't, did you? All we need now," she said before I could reply, "is for you to become sick too. I just haven't the strength and energy for that. Not right now, anyway." She started up the stairway. "I'll call you as soon as I'm rested," she added.
How could she be so uncaring and worry only about herself at a time like this? Was she always this selfish? I asked myself. And why was her honeymoon so exhausting? Wasn't it supposed to be the most wonderful time of your life, especially to go somewhere as luxurious as the hotel that she and Tony had gone to where they could do fun things and be together day in and day out, with romantic meals and music? Honeymooners shut the world out and enjoy each other and the miracle of their love, I thought.
How could she leave Tony alone in the hospital, no matter how tired she was? Even if I deeply resented his presence in my life I had quickly grown to love his little brother. And Troy was almost like Momma's stepson now. Tony was surely very concerned and upset. Wasn't that a time for a wife to be close to her husband, to comfort and to support him? Instead, she had herself brought home and she was going to take a hot bath and go to sleep. She was worried about her beauty rest. Perhaps this marriage was no better than her marriage to Daddy, since this new one was also a marriage built on a lie.
Momma was so different, I thought, and then I thought, maybe she was always this way, but I just hadn't noticed because I saw her only with a child's eyes. But that day I overheard the conversation between her and Grandma Jana aged me faster than I had wanted to age. The rose tint had been peeled back off my world. Now many things that had once been as bright and as colorful as a rainbow were gray.
I went up to my room and sat on my bed looking at the little horse Troy had made me for Christmas. No matter how rich we are, no matter how beautiful or how powerful we think we are, we're all really just as fragile and as delicate as this little ceramic toy Troy made me, I thought. I clutched it tightly to me and said a silent prayer.
Sitting there I fell asleep, and it was after six o'clock when I awoke. Twilight made my bedroom dismal and full of shadows. I felt a chill as if a wintry wind had slipped into the big house under the front doors and wound its way through the rooms and up the stairway directly to my bedroom. It draped itself over me like some blanket sewn with threads of ice. I shuddered and embraced myself. It felt like a bad omen.
Troy, I thought frantically, and hopped out of bed quickly. The corridor was dim and quiet. My heart began to pound. The house seemed muted, hushed, as if it had been deserted by everyone but its ghosts.
Fearing the worst, I glided like a sleepwalker down the corridor to Momma's suite and listened at the doorway. It was just as quiet. I opened the outer door and tiptoed through the sitting room to gaze into her bedroom.
She was still in bed, fast asleep, a thick blanket over her, her golden hair loose and lying over a large fluffy pillow. Boxes and packages covered the floor. Her new sable coat, the sable hat, her ski pants and boots were still where she had draped them over chairs and benches when she had undressed to take her bath. How could she still be sleeping? Didn't she care at all about sweet little Troy?
I found no one in the rooms downstairs. Finally in the kitchen I discovered all the servants gathered around the table talking softly. They turned to me the moment I entered. They were all of one face--darkeyed, somber, concerned.
"Has there been any news?" I asked, fearful of what their reply would be.
"Oh dear," Mrs. Hastings said. "Mr. Tatterton called a little over an hour ago to say Troy's fever has gone even higher. His breathing is very labored. He's in critical condition."
They all stared at me, waiting for my reaction.
"I want to go to the hospital, Miles," I said. "Will you take me?"
He looked from Rye to Mrs. Hastings to the other servants, not knowing how he should react to my request.
"Your mother might not want you to go," he finally said.
"My
mother, "I
replied, pounding the word, "is asleep. I'll be ready in five minutes. Please bring the car up front," I demanded, and left before there could be any further discussion.
I found Tony talking to a nurse in the waiting room of the Boston General Hospital. He had his long, cashmere coat draped over his arm. For once I felt no anger, hatred, or resentment toward him--all of my emotions were for Troy now. In fact, I thought Tony looked more tanned and handsome than ever.
"Leigh!" he cried as soon as he set eyes on me. He rushed across the waiting room to greet me. "Is Jillian with you?" He peered over my head and through the entranceway behind me.
"No. She's sleeping," I replied, unable to hide my disapproval. His face sank, the brightness that had come into his eyes quickly fading.
"Has there been any change?"
"Some slight change for the better. His temperature has dropped half a degree. It's very nice of you to have come to be with me. Thank you."
"Oh, Tony, I'm so worried about him. We had such a good time together while you and Momma were away, but honestly, we didn't do anything that would have made him sick. We were outside a lot, but he was always properly dressed, and whenever he showed any signs of getting cold, we went right back inside. And he had a good appetite and . . ."
"Hold on . . hold on." Tony seized my elbows in his hands. "Troy's been sick like this before. It's just his nature. No one can predict it. I don't blame anyone, least of all you. Stop thinking about it." He looked at his watch. "It will be a while yet before the doctor can say anything new about Troy's condition and it's just about dinnertime. I know a nice little Italian restaurant eat far from here," he said. "Hungry?"
"Sure, you must be. I haven't eaten since early morning. There's no point in us just sitting here. Come on," he said putting on his coat and then taking my arm into his. 1 couldn't help my hesitation. I hadn't demanded to be brought here so I could eat dinner in Boston. I wanted to be near Troy.
But, I thought, if Tony felt it was all right to leave for a little while to get something to eat, I supposed it was all right.
"Troy's getting the best possible treatment," Tony said, after we were seated at a small table by the window. "That little tyke has a way of pulling out of crises when he wants to, and now that you're living with us at Farthy, I know he wants to live and be well more than ever." He reached across the table to pat my hand reassuringly.
"I hope so," I said, nearly following it with a sob.
"Let's eat. They have wonderful pasta here. Let me do the ordering for both of us," he said. How sophisticated he was, pronouncing the Italian words perfectly. The waiter recognized his worldly ways immediately and was immediately impressed. I could see it in the way he listened and nodded. Tony then turned and stared at me for a moment. His sharp, penetrating blue gaze rested on me with deep consideration.
"You know you're a baffling girl, Leigh. One second you look positively radiant with happiness, and the next all happiness has fled and you have tears in your eyes. I think you're just as intriguing, or confusing, I should say, as your mother. No man is a match for either of you, I'm afraid," he added, not sounding bitter so much as he sounded resigned to his fate.