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"Don't worry about it, Curtis. Thank you." I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at Logan's monomaniacal dedication to Tatterton Toys. I knew he had to be tired from our trip, yet he wouldn't let that prevent him from showing his determination and drive to Tony. Tony should have known better, too, I thought. Why was he romancing Logan with the business so intently? He had what he said he wanted--he had us living here, sharing in his wealth, and he had Logan working for him. He should be paying more attention to Jillian and her needs.
"Well, they did say not to worry. They would be back in plenty of time for dinner."
Oh, how I wished I could be gay and happy at this moment, instead of troubled and melancholy. I decided it would be good for me to take a walk, to air out my stuffy, gloomy thoughts.
I was wearing a light blue, summer-weight blouse and skirt and almost turned back to get a cotton sweater, for the air had become cool and the salty sea breeze brisk. But I didn't. I walked on, embracing myself and distracted so by my worries that I didn't realize how fast and how far I had gone from the front entrance. I stopped at the entrance to the maze and looked back.
There, framed in the window, was Jillian. She looked like a mannequin; so still she was, so frozen in place. It was difficult to see the details of her face, of course, but I thought she wore an expression of fear. Suddenly her fear filled me and I was drawn into the maze, like a child who wants to be told the end of a scary fairy tale. The moment I entered the maze I recalled the first time I had done so, that first day I had come to Farthy, when I didn't even realize what the maze was. I was excited by the challenge of finding my way through the puzzle. Arrogantly, I had gone forward, taking the right turns and then the left turns. As the warm sunlight was absorbed by the tall hedges, I'd realized I had lost my prospective. I no longer remembered the way back. I had panicked, quickening my pace, nearly running.
Finally I had stopped to gather my wits and calm myself, straining to hear the pounding of the surf, hoping to use that as a reference point, but instead, I had heard the tap-tap-tap of someone hammering nearby. I had followed the sound until I heard a window close and the hammering cease. I had been walking just the way I was walking right now, with my arms folded protectively over my bosom in Granny's way. I had made turn after turn until I stepped out of the maze and came upon Troy's cottage.
Just as I did now.
And it was just the way it always had been, a storybook house suddenly appearing out of the fog, comfortably nestled in the lap of the pine trees. Of course now there were no sounds of a hammer being used to construct those precious little Tatterton Toys; there was no light from any warm fire. There was nothing but the cold shadows and the darkened windows that looked like the eyes of a blind man, dull, gray, sightless, not even the reflection of the surrounding little crooked fence in its glass.
Yet the sight of it shattered my fragile heart.
Oh, Troy, I thought. How I wish I was once again coming upon your cottage as I had that first day, and after meeting you, I was once again trying to get you to talk to me. How I wish you were there once again to look at me the way you had--to see your dark eyes look me over so slowly, taking in my face, my throat, my heaving bosom, my waist, hips, and legs as though you feasted on me visually. How intently you looked into my face. I felt your gaze on my lips. I sensed how much I affected you and that filled me with a realization of my own potent femininity Yes, Troy, you made me feel like a woman more than any man ever had before.
I realized I was embracing myself even tighter while lost in this reverie. What is happening to me? I wondered. I shouldn't be thinking of these things, for I had my true love with me and Troy was gone and gone forever. I shouldn't be letting Jillian's crazed dreams of ghosts affect and haunt me, too.
After a moment I got hold of myself and I brought my hands to the sides of my body and walked forward until I reached the cottage door. I was surprised to see how well the grounds around the cottage had been kept since Troy's death. The lawn was cut; the flower beds pruned. Even the panel windows looked clean.
After a moment's hesitation, when all the voices of caution sang out their warnings, I turned the latch and stepped inside, my heart beating in my chest like a bird ready to take wing. The moment I stepped in, I gasped. Troy's chair was just where it always had been, facing the fireplace. For a
moment I expected that he would be in it and he would turn my way as he did that first day, but, of course, there was no one there and that silence and emptiness was more devastating than I had imagined it would be. I took a deep breath and held it as I looked up at the special tools he had used to construct those special Tatterton creations, each in its niche on the wall.
The floorboard to my left creaked as if a ghost had taken a step and I uttered a cry. Without any hesitation I turned and ran out the cottage door, sorrow and fear commingling in the tears that streamed down my cheeks. I fled back into the maze and ran mindless down the corridors, making one senseless turn after another. I tripped once, but caught myself before falling into the hedges. Finally, out of breath and exhausted, I stopped in the middle of a passageway to gather my wits.
Like the first time I had entered this maze years ago, I was once again lost. I had run in a panic, disregarding the pathways and directions I had once known so well. Right now, still emotionally
overwrought, I couldn't think straight. Every opening and entrance looked the same. I wasn't even sure how to go back to the cottage.
I laughed at myself, more to calm myself than anything else. How silly and stupid you are, Heaven Leigh, I thought. After all these years and all those times you traveled the maze, to be standing here so confused. Take your time, think, gather your wits together. Imagine what it would be like for you to be wandering around in here when Tony and Logan returned, for them to have to rescue you. How could you explain such foolishness?
I ran through the corridors again, cursing the mystery. I was sure I had gone around in circles. What was the point of all this anyway? What distorted sense of humor created such things? I caught my breath and studied the various options. The more choices I had, the more confused I became. It was getting darker and darker. How long had I been wandering through the maze? All sense of time and place was suddenly lost to me. I couldn't calm my heart's pounding. Little cries were emerging from my mouth almost on their own. I tried desperately to calm myself, but it was getting to be harder and harder to do it.
I stared down one corridor, made a right turn and then a left. Everything looked as familiar as ever, but when I made what I thought were surely the correct turns, I found myself still deep in the maze, but perhaps far right of the exits to either Troy's cottage or the house. The shadows here looked darker, longer. Everything about this section was unfriendly to me. In my wild imagination I thought the hedges were taking revenge on me for solving their mystery years ago and moving from one world into another.
I finally decided that my only solution was to keep turning left once and then right once. Eventually I would have to come to the end of the maze, even though it might take me ten times the time it would take had I remembered the solutions. With my head down I proceeded. After a few minutes the sound of someone clipping caught my attention. I stopped and listened. Yes, it was definitely one of the grounds people working. I walked toward the sound and after making half a dozen turns came upon an elderly man trimming one of the hedges. I didn't want to frighten him, so I waited, hopeful that he would soon notice my presence. Even so, when he turned my way, I saw that he was quite shocked. He nearly fled.
"Wait, don't be afraid," I said. "It's only me, Mrs. Stonewall. Heaven." He was not familiar to me, so I imagined he was one of the many servants hired after I had left Farthy to go back to Winnerow to teach.
"Oh, miss," he said. "Oh, dear." He stood up, holding his right hand over his heart. "You gave me quite a start. I'm glad you're who you are; I'm glad you're of the living."
"I am, thankfully. But I must confess I wandered into the maze and lost my sense of direction."
"Oh, that's easy to do. Even I have done it a few times."
"Have you been working here long?" I asked. I thought a few moments of idle conversation might calm the moment and he wouldn't feel the need to exaggerate it when he related it to the other servants. "Only a few months, ma'am."
"Enjoying it?"
"Most of the time, yes, ma'am. I wasn't a moment ago," he said and then laughed. "I thought for a minute there that one of Rye Whiskey's spirits had me."
"Oh, Rye Whiskey. Yes," I said, smiling "He can spook anyone with his tales."
"Got me goin', ma'am. The other day I was sure I heard footsteps just on the other side of one of these hedges. I followed the sound and came out at a juncture just where whoever it was would have to come out, only . . ."
