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"I made up my mind that night to return to defy nature and the gods if need be. I was coming back to you, to beg you to come back to me. I was willing to live as an outcast, to give up anything and everything if we could only be together, even if it was just to hold you in my arms while the winds of winter blew around the cottage. That would be enough, I thought, for if I were to die before my thirtieth birthday, as I had always feared, I would die in your arms. That was where I belonged."
"Oh, Troy, dear, dear Troy. Why didn't you write? Why didn't you try to contact me?" I cried.
"It didn't matter. By the time I had made up my mind to do this, you had already become engaged to Logan."
"But how did you know?" I asked. He smiled and finished the tea in his cup.
"I was in Winnerow just before your wedding. I came in disguise and actually was in Logan's parents' drugstore. I heard the conversations and learned of your engagement. So I turned around and left, but instead of returning to a life spent incognito, traveling abroad, I decided to return to the cottage to end my days and I've been here ever since.
"I saw your wedding reception at Farthy, watched it from behind one of the hedges in the maze You looked so beautiful and Tony looked so happy. I even followed you and Logan about the grounds during your honeymoon, spied on you from afar, dreaming it was I who held you in his arms; it was I whom you kissed. For a while there, my imagination worked so well, I actually felt you beside me.
"It was wrong to do that; I know," he said quickly. "But forgive me. I couldn't help myself."
"Of course I forgive you. I understand how hard it must have been for you to watch without my seeing you." Oh, my own Troy, having to watch me marrying Logan! I couldn't bear to imagine it. Why hadn't he stepped forward, why?
"It was haid, painfully hard." His dark eyes flashed with life and light for the first time. "I wanted you to see me; I was working up the courage for that," he said. "Last night, knowing Logan wasn't here, I went to your room after you returned from wherever you had gone with Tony."
"I sensed something last night, although I didn't know it was you. I awoke and called out because I saw a body silhouetted in the darkness."
He stared at me for a moment.
"Why did you come here today?" he asked softly. "Because you thought it might be me?"
"No. I felt like someone under hypnosis, but I didn't know I would find you. When I realized someone was here, I thought it was someone Tony hired to work here. I thought he had lied to me and I wanted to confront this person, and then I suddenly had the feeling I was in the presence of something spiritual, maybe in the presence of a ghost."
"I am not a ghost, Heaven. Not anymore." He sat back and stared at me. "You've changed, grown older, wiser looking. Your beauty has matured. It makes me tremble to be this close to you, to actually hear your voice now."
He leaned forward and reached out to touch my face. I didn't move away, but I didn't feel his fingers on my skin. He sat back slowly.
"I feel like a little boy fascinated with a fire, wanting to touch it, even though I know to do so will only bring me pain."
"Oh, Troy," I said. The warm tears emerged from the corners of my eyes and zigzagged over my cheeks. He reached out again and this time I felt his fingertips caress my skin. I closed my eyes.
"How many times can I lose you, Heaven? Is this just another way for fate to torment me?"
I sat back in my chair, unable to speak. He handed me a handkerchief and I dabbed at my face. My sniffing brought a smile to his lips and then a small, gentle laugh. I shook my head, realizing what all this meant.
"Come into the living room," he said, "where it is more comfortable."
I nodded and went to the couch. Just like in the old days he sprawled on the carpet and looked up at me, his hands tucked behind his head.
"Troy," I said, shaking my head. "I can't believe that this isn't all a dream, that you're actually there looking up at me the way you used to."
"I know."
"When did Tony know you were still alive?" I asked.
"Actually, not until very recently. I was surprised when I returned to find the cottage just the way I had left it. I realized that Tony refused to accept my death. How ironic, I thought, and, of course, I realized what sort of pain I must have brought him. It made it all the more difficult to go to him to confess my ruse. I tried unsuccessfully a number of times."
"You wandered the house at night," I said, realizing now what the servants meant, that Rye Whiskey hadn't been imagining things when he thought there were spirits of the dead haunting the dark hails of Farthy.
"Yes. I even sat at the piano, hoping he would simply find me there, but when he didn't come upon me quickly, I lost my nerve. I thought I was recognized by the servants, but I imagine the sight of m
y darkened visage and body floating through those dimly lit hallways terrified them."
"You don't know just how much," I said, shaking my head.
"And theff, one night, while you were away in Winnerow, I came upon Jillian just outside her suite. Apparently, her nurse had fallen asleep and she was free to wander about alone. I'll never forget that look on her face." He sat up, recalling the moment. "Her face seemed to age right before my eyes. She lost whatever semblance of youth she had managed to hold on to in her madness.
