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"I'm afraid it can be," he replied. Then he turned to me. "And you know now that Anthony Tatterton will corroborate what's stated in the letter," he warned.
"But . . ." Logan stammered, "but surely after all that was brought out today, the judge . ."
"Fanny Wilcox is a blood relation. The boy's her half-brother, and we assumed he was Mrs. Stonewall's half-brother. We made important points, but only if Mrs. Stonewall and Mrs. Wilcox are on an equal footing, if you know what I mean. Her past aside, Mr. Stonewall, why should the court award the custody of the boy to Mrs. Stonewall, who is not a blood relation, instead of awarding him to Mrs. Wilcox, Who is? She's not a criminal. In fact, she's never been arrested for anything."
"But Randall Wilcox said--" Logan muttered. "None of that is important any longer."
Mr. Lakewood leaned forward and lowered his voice as though he were about to tell us confidential information.
"Burton already let me in on what his line of attack's going to be after he establishes Luke Casteel was not Mrs. Stonewall's real father. In his words we have a situation in which someone with a great deal of money is trying to use her power to deny Fanny Wilcox her familial rights.
"I have to tell you, it doesn't look good, and on that basis Mr. Stein has asked me, as a professional courtesy, to do everything I can to prevent Mr. Tatterton's being subpoenaed. My advice at this point is for you to simply drop the motion."
"Like hell we will!" Logan shouted. "If Tony is crazy enough to permit himself to be questioned by that sleazy lawyer in front of everyone here and make such a confession--"
"The point is he will, Mr. Stonewall." Camden Lakewood remained coolly realistic. "The point is that Anthony Tatterton has volunteered to testify. Obviously, his lawyers are urging him not to."
"I still can't see why any judge . . ."
I could not have Tony testify. All of it would only hurt Drake in the end. "Logan," I said numbly. "Well, I can't, and we were willing--"
"Logan!" I stood up. He stared at me a moment and then looked away. "Thank you for what you have done up until now, Mr. Lakewood," I said firmly, my intentions clear.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Stonewall. If I had known all the facts before we started . . ."
"I understand. Please, excuse me," I added and ran from the room. I rushed up the stairs and when I entered my bedroom, I stopped and took deep breaths.
It wasn't that Fanny was beating me or that the echo of Logan's infidelity lingered on and on, or even that Tony was willing to reveal his sexual
involvement with my mother that tore away the walls of my heart. It was that I was losing Drake, and through that loss I was losing Luke again.
Suddenly all those times when in my secret and put-away heart I wanted Luke to let me touch his cheek or wrap my arms around him or have him touch my hair lovingly returned. I remembered how it was when I would see him looking lonely and lost, staring off into space, looking as if life had cheated him. There was always such a deep need in me to love him and be loved by him. All the time we lived in the Willies, that aching need was there, waiting to ignite and burst into a bonfire of love and affection, if only he would have acted as if he saw me or encouraged me to believe he did love me, even a little.
But he never did and fate cheated me of any hope of it ever happening when that drunk driver smashed him and Stacie into oblivion. I had hoped that through Drake I would find him and find the love I had lost. I had planned on a lifetime of giving Drake love and receiving his love. I had even dreamt of him growing into a strong young man, the spitting image of Luke, and as such a handsome young man, looking at me with love and affection.
It wasn't so accidental or ironic that Tony, through his terrible admission, could deny me Luke's love a second time. Who knew what was going on in his broken and twisted mind since I had fled Farthy and refused ever to see him alone again at the party. In a strange and horribly distorted way he probably was now envious of my loving Drake or Drake loving me.
I felt overwhelmed, defeated, drenched in a downpour of envy and hate, caught in the winds of a twisted hurricane of emotions. There was Fanny on one side and Tony on another, both pulling and pushing, jabbing me with pins and needles. Two people who should have loved me and I should have loved were making me more miserable than I was when I lived in the Willies.
Right now I almost wished I were back there living in that poverty, but at least having people around me who loved me. I wished Tom and I were off somewhere in the Willies talking about our dreams, believing we were of the same blood, brother and sister forever.
I sat on my bed, too tired and too defeated to cry. A few moments later Logan appeared in the doorway. Neither of us spoke for a while.
"I should have flown to Farthy that very night and wrung Tony Tatterton's neck," Logan began. "I should have believed you when you warned me about it, I should have put an end to his controlling our lives. What kind of husband am I, Heaven, to have failed you so?"
"You're a good husband. The only husband I want," I consoled him. "Now, please don't talk any more about revenge and hating. I can't bear it anymore." A plan was brewing in the back of my mind, a plan I would have to put into practice all by myself. I was tired of hating people, tired even of hating Fanny. "I'm going to go talk to Fanny," I said.
"You're not going to go beg her. I couldn't stand the thought of that. Let me go, if that is what you want. I should take some of the responsibility."
"No, that's not what Fanny wants. She would see you coming up there like one of my servants to do my bidding." He saw I was right about that.
"But what will you say to her? What will you do?"
"I'm not sure," I responded, even though what I was going to do was taking shape in my mind I just didn't want to reveal it at this moment. Logan seemed to understand that. He nodded.
"Whatever you do, support you."
"Thank you, Logan?' We stared at each other for a long moment and then he rushed to kneel at my feet, burying his head in my lap, and began to sob. I stroked his hair lovingly.
