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Outside the church the Longchamps had started playing a lilting waltz. After everyone had greeted us in the receiving line, Logan and I were expected to dance first. I saw the hill folk hanging back, insecure and uncertain. I felt their nervousness as they filed through that proper ceremonial reception line. I kissed Logan on the cheek and said, "Hang on, honey," Then I went up to the violinist, one of the greatest hill fiddlers ever, and I said, "Play me some country footstompin' music." As he began to play, I could hear all around me the sound of the hill folk clappin' and tappin'. I took my husband around the waist, the memories of my hill days flooding back to me, and I broke out into the Willies' swing.
The town folk stood back as one by one the hill folks came forward to cut in on our dance. Logan was spun away by a pretty student of mine as my old neighbor Race McGee twirled me away. Then the hill folk began to pull the town folk int
o the dance. Never had I been so happy. Everyone was laughing, clapping, whirling around. At last the Willies and Winnerow were one.
Suddenly I saw Fanny in her skin-tight blue dress slink across the dance floor and tap Logan's partner on the shoulder. "Make way for the sista-inlore, for the best lady!" Fanny shouted for all to hear. She threw her arms around Logan's neck and pressed her bosom into his chest, placed her hands on his buttocks and began whirling my astonished Logan across the dance floor. When the music stopped, she announced, "I guess it's time to kiss the husband, this time," and with that I saw her tongue slither out between her lips and thrust itself into Logan's mouth.
Finally Logan yanked himself away from her grasp, but Fanny's laugh rang out above the music, tolling its alarm to warn me. I listened, and I heard. But this was my day and I wasn't going to let Fanny, or anyone or anything, spoil it.
TWO In My Father's House .
LOGAN AND I WALKED OFF THE PLANE RAMP AND INTO THE Boston airport giggling like schoolchildren. We were both so filled with
excitement that the flight attendants immediately remarked that we looked like newlyweds.
"Oh?" Logan said, teasing. "And how should newlyweds look?"
"Full of hope and laughter, their love for each other so obvious even the most insensitive person would look at them and smile to himself," the stewardess recited as if from her own lifelong dream.
"That's us," Logan replied. We had been like that throughout the plane trip, hugging, kissing, giggling, and sighing at each other. Every time the flight attendants walked by, they smiled or laughed.
Now we hurried down the long airport corridor, hand in hand, eager to get on with our visit, Tony's wedding reception for us, and our honeymoon. As we came around a corner in the corridor, I spotted Tony standing by the gate. He was dressed in one of his dark blue, double-breasted silk suits, a folded Wall Street Journal in his hand. He lifted it to signal me as we appeared. "There's Tony." I waved back. "I expected he would simply have Miles, the chauffeur, here to greet us."
"That would have been no way to treat newlyweds," Logan quipped.
"You're right," I said, but I paused and tightened my fingers around Logan's hand, knowing all that he would never know. Perhaps it was because I had been away from Tony so long, or perhaps it was the heart's way of reminding the mind that our true selves were revealed more in our eyes than in our words; whatever the reason, I felt the magnetism of Tony's eyes, drawing me back, as I had feared they would.
Strands of gray hair had increased around Tony's temples, but that only added to his dignified demeanor. As we drew closer, his sharp, penetrating gaze transformed into a look of shock.
"Leigh?" he almost whispered. Then
immediately he regained his composure. "Heaven!" He stepped forward to greet us. "Heaven, welcome home. You changed your hair to the same color as your mother's. Blond . ." His voice drifted off, as if kidnapped by the past.
"Oh, yes, I forgot, Tony," I said quickly. "I told her she looks better with her natural brunette," Logan quickly interjected as he stretched out a hand toward the surprised Tony.
"Tony, this is my husband, Logan." I introduced them as they shook hands. I could see Tony already sizing up Logan, taking his measure, scrutinizing his face for traces of his weaknesses and vulnerabilities to see where and how Tony might manipulate him to his will.
"Welcome, Logan," Tony said at last. Then he turned his eyes on me, and I could feel his stare almost drinking me in. "I am so happy to see you back here again, Heaven. I've missed you terribly . . ." He paused and his voice grew misty. "It's uncanny how much you look like her now. I wonder . . ." Then he seemed to grasp hold of himself and quickly turned back to Logan. "And I'm happy to have you here as well, son."
"Thank you, sir."
"Oh, please, call me Tony." His blue eyes lightened. "I have enough people calling me sir around here. Did you have a good flight?"
"Wonderful. But, of course, going anywhere, being anywhere with Heaven makes it wonderful," Logan said. He put his arm around my shoulders and hugged me for emphasis. Tony nodded with a look of amusement.
"That's good. Behaving as a pair of newlyweds should. I'm glad you've begun your honeymoon at Farthy. The car's just outside. Don't worry about your baggage. I have a man looking after it. Let's get to Farthy, where you can relax and we can get to know one another quickly," he told Logan.
He turned to me again, his blue eyes now calm and unreadable. He had gotten hold of himself in his usual inimitable manner and was once again the man in complete control.
"How is Jillian?" I asked softly.
"You'll see for yourself," he said. "Let's not let anything put a damper on the joy of your arrival. I have a wonderful reception planned and the weather promises to be perfect," he said as we continued on through the airport. "My servants have been working like little beavers to sharpen up the grounds. Farthy never looked as proud or as majestic, but she rarely had as good a reason to look so."
"Can't wait to see all of it," Logan said. Tony threw a self-satisfied smile back at me as we emerged from the airport. His long black limousine was at the curbside. Miles stood beside it, holding the car door open for us.
"Miles." I rushed to hug him.
"Good to see you again, Miss Heaven. Everyone's really happy about your visit."
