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"Despite what I say, you know anyone I choose will always be second best. And," he added, a wry smile cocking his lips, "whenever I look at her I will see you. But don't worry," he added quickly, "Betty Ann doesn't know. She doesn't know that once upon a time, a hundred years ago, you and I were boyfriend and girlfriend. Oh, she knows your story," he said, "but not that part. That part is locked here," he whispered, patting his heart. "I can't help it. Don't hate me for confessing. Please," he pleaded.
I was unable to respond. He locked his gaze so intently on me, I could feel the passion and desire radiating. Numbly, I shook my head. I was deceived, I thought. It would never end . . . Philip's lust for me would linger forever and ever. Jimmy was so right to want us to have a home separate from the hotel and away from Philip and Betty Ann, but even that, I feared, would not be enough.
Now, when I looked at Betty Ann, I thought I understood what had attracted him to someone so plain. He had deliberately sought a girl who had little to distinguish her physically. It made it easier for him to see me in her eyes and feel my lips instead of her lips when they kissed. Just the thought of it made me tremble.
I was happy when Mother called him away to meet someone else.
"What's wrong?" Jimmy said, approaching. He had been talking with Bronson. "You look upset. Aren't you feeling well?"
"I'm all right," I said. "Just too much champagne."
"Too much champagne would turn your face crimson, not white," he insisted. He gazed across the room at Philip. "Is it something to do with Philip? Did he say something?"
"No, it's nothing, Jimmy. Please. I'm all right," I repeated more emphatically. Jimmy raised his eyebrows. "Philip was talking to me, and I didn't even hear what he said," I lied. "For a moment I just drifted off and felt a little nauseous. It's nothing."
"Nauseous? Maybe . . ." His eyes lit up with hope.
"No, Jimmy," I said. "I'm not pregnant. Remember, I just had my period."
"Oh," he said, disappointed. "Right. Well, if it happens again, you'd better see the doctor," he said.
A little while later we were all called in to dinner. There were twenty guests, and Mother had arranged the seating so that Betty Ann and Philip were at her sides. Consequently, I didn't get to speak to Betty Ann very much. After dinner I finally had a real conversation with her. We stepped out on a patio to get some air. She was more relaxed.
"What a beautiful house and beautiful view," she exclaimed. "And your mother is so beautiful, too. It's hard to believe she has children your age and Philip's."
"Mother will love you for saying that, Betty Ann," I said. She smiled and giggled.
"I'm so excited about living in the hotel," she said. "From the way Philip has described it, there's always something to do, something happening. It's never dull."
"He's right about that."
"And I'm so impressed with what you do. Philip says you haven't even been to college. He's told me so much about you. I know all about how you were kidnapped and returned. Philip's always talking about you," she added, but without any note of envy. "About how talented you are musically and how bright you are."
"He exaggerates, I'm sure," I said, unable to hide my embarrassment.
"Oh, no. Not Philip. He's known for his honesty. Besides, he's always playing that tape recording of you singing, and you do have a beautiful voice."
"Tape recording?" I wondered when Philip had taped me singing. "What am I singing?" I asked. After she told me, I realized Philip had taped me singing for the guests at the hotel one night, and he had never told me. It made me feel funny, as if I had been eavesdropped upon. Why had he kept that a secret?
"He's so proud of you. It's so nice for a brother and a sister to like each other as much as you two like each other, especially when you consider what happened to you," she added.
"Yes." I smiled weakly.
"Someday I hope you will sit down and tell me all about it. Will you? I want to know all the details—what it was like for you before, how you were found, what it was like to return. . ."
"It's not as exciting or interesting a story as you might think," I replied.
"Oh, no, I know it is. Philip always has tears in his eyes when he talks about it . . . especially when he describes that first day you were at the hotel and you and he met for the first time as brother and sister. I cry myself," she confessed.
"Philip's so romantic," she continued. "He's so handsome, and he has a wonderful sense of humor. All my girlfriends are dying with jealousy. And my parents love him—especially my father, because he knows so much about business and investments. I'm so lucky," she said. "Don't you think?" she asked me, and suddenly I felt a great sorrow for her. How horrible it would be for her to know that whenever Philip looked at her lovingly he was looking at me, and whenever he kissed her passionately he was kissing me.
She was being deceived and lied to and used. Philip had found himself an innocent, naive young woman who just happened to fit all the social criteria. She was incapable of seeing or understanding the deception. A handsome, debonair young man—a hero on campus who came from a famous resort family—had chosen her. Her fantasy, her dream had come true.
I wanted so much to say something, to stop her from beginning a life of illusion, but then I thought that even if she knew the truth, she might accept it just so she could have Philip. Obviously, he meant that much to her.
I could almost hear Mother telling me, "Everyone accepts a certain amount of deception and illusion, Dawn. It's the price we pay for what little happiness we can achieve."
It was the way Mother had lived her life; it would be the way Betty Ann and Philip would live theirs. And deny it or run from it as much as I would, I was sure, in the end, it was the way I would live mine as well.
