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"It's wonderful," I admitted. I embraced myself again. It was a wonderful painting. Every time I looked at it, it would fill my heart with warmth and my mind with memories, I could almost hear the rocking chairs squeaking.
"So?" he said.
I looked at both of them again. Logan had begun to imitate Tony's posture, Tony's smile.
"I don't know. I feel like someone being swept along. I've got to think . . about a great many things."
"Fine," Tony said. "Well, I'd better check on things outside." He looked at his watch. "With the reception coming up tomorrow, we haven't that much longer." He started out and then stopped in the bedroom doorway to turn back to me. "Don't be angry with me, Heaven, for caring about you and wanting you to be happy," he said and left before I could respond.
"Logan Stonewall," I said, spinning around quickly to confront him, "did you know anything about this before we came to Farthy? Tell me the truth," I demanded quickly.
"What . of course not . . how could I?" He lifted his arms to plead his innocence. I studied him a moment and concluded he was telling the truth. "Why are you so upset, anyway? Look around you. This place is beautiful."
"I know that, but remember what I said downstairs about men like Tony getting what they want. Don't you understand? He had to have begun this some time back; he had to have always planned for us to come here, for you to work for him."
"I don't believe that," Logan said. "How could he?"
"I do," I said. "But maybe it doesn't matter anyway; maybe it's all part of what's destined to be." I looked over the rooms again. "Come," I said, "let's get ready for dinner,"
Logan, shaking his head in confusion, followed me out. How could I expect him to understand the forces at work at Farthy, the power of the ghosts and the shadows that Rye Whiskey feared, the mystery and the magic of the large house and its grounds, when I, myself, a blood descendant of the Tattertons, receptive to the voices from the past, did not comprehend the full extent of the power they had over me?
I should flee this place, I thought. I should rush out of here and return to the Willies, where I felt safe and snug in Grandpa's cabin. But the echo of that thought died quickly and was replaced by the echoes of Logan's and my footsteps as we hurried down the corridor.
Like a leaf in the wind, I felt myself being swept along, carried away by forces far stronger than I was.
FOUR The Grand Reception
. THE ROAD TO FARTHINGGALE MANOR HOSTED A PARADE OF limousines, Cadillacs and Lincolns, Rolls-Royces and Mercedes. Tony had pulled out all stops; he had invited every influential businessman and politician and socialite within a hundred-mile radius. I knew that all he had done to impress Logan and me up until now would p-afe beside what he was about to present.
Every girl dreams of a wonderful wedding reception, but to see something like this, an
extravaganza beyond my wildest imaginings, suddenly made all my dark thoughts about Tony and his manipulations disappear and made me realize how incredibly lucky I was. I did have a great deal to be thankful for. To know that all this splendor, all these well-dressed people in expensive cars were gathering because of Logan and me filled me with an
excitement almost impossible to contain.
Suddenly, stepping out of one of the sleek black limousines, I spotted Our Jane and Keith. I ran toward them, my arms outstretched. Our Jane had grown into a stunning eighteen-year-old. Only an inch or so shorter than I was, Jane had developed a fuller figure. Her fiery red-gold hair flamed about her small oval face, highlighted by a pair of turquoise eyes so soft and vulnerable they could turn the hardest, most cynical man into a blubbering schoolboy.
"Heaven!" she cried. "Oh, Heaven,. I'm so happy for you."
Keith looked his part as well. As tall as Pa, his auburn hair deep and rich,, his brown eyes bright, he looked tanned, rich, and quite the Harvard man, dressed in a light white-and-blue-striped cotton sweater and dark blue slacks.
"Congratulations, big sister." He grinned, then replaced his pipe in his mouth. What a handsome, self-confident young man Keith had become! I knew he was an excellent student, a member of the prestigious rowing team as well as the highly successful debate team.
Looking at them now, it was hard to believe that they had once clung to me like two little monkeys, their faces pale with shadowed hollows beneath their eyes. It was almost impossible to resurrect the memory, of their thin, little voices crying, "Hey-lee, Hey- lee" as they begged for something more substantial to eat during those days after Pa had deserted us and Tom and I were left to be both mother and father to them.
Maybe it was good I had a hard time
remembering all that, I thought. Maybe it was best. I wished I had just as hard a time recalling other troubled memories as well.
"I just knew you two would marry some day," Jane said. "It's all so romantic. You two were just made for each other. Heaven, I. . . I'm just so happy for you. I'll bet the whole town of Winnerow went crazy when they heard the news."
"How is Winnerow?" Keith asked, a slight smirk in his face. His memories weren't fond ones, so he had no burning desire to return, even for a short visit.
"It's about the same," Logan said, suddenly appearing at my side. He looked so handsome in his tuxedo, his hair combed back, a white carnation in his lapel.
"Logan Stonewall!" Our Jane shouted. "How handsome you look."
"And how grown up and beautiful you look, Our Jane," he replied.
