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"I know, but . . but I wish you would have a look for yourself. I hope Mr. Tatterton's all right."
I stared at him a moment. I thought Tony was suffering a hangover this morning, a well-deserved one.
> "Drake, go down with Curtis. I'll be right along," I said.
"Thank you, Mrs. Stonewall," Curtis said. He took Drake's hand and they went downstairs. I continued down the corridor to what had been Jillian's suite and peered in, just as Curtis had done.
There lay Tony sprawled on Jillian's bed, still unconscious from his drunken stupor. Only that wasn't what had frightened Curtis. It even frightened me. Tony had put on that nightgown he had brought to me and the room reeked of jasmine. Who knew what delusions he had gone through, I thought, or how much more he drank to get this way. But I felt no pity for him; I felt only disgust.
I left him snoring there and closed the door behind me.
"He'll be all right," I told Curtis. "Just leave him alone."
"Very good, Mrs. Stonewall," he said. "Thank you."
I stopped just outside the front door and looked out over the grounds of Farthinggale Manor. The autumn winds were growing stronger and cooler. They shook the trees and tore the colorful leaves from their branches. The downpour of red, yellow, and brown leaves scattered in a frenzy across the long driveway and over the green lawns. It was as if Nature were bringing down a curtain of colors. Branches already stripped of their finery hung naked against clouds as silver as coins. It brought a chill to me and I embraced myself. Then I hurried on to the limo.
Drake sat waiting, his toy fire engine in his lap. Even after we gave him new toys, that was the one he still clung to. He looked so small and lost in the big car, like a baby bird left in its nest. I put my arm around him and pulled him to me as Miles started away.
And I never looked back.
FOURTEEN There's No Place Like Home
. HOME. HOME. THE WORD REPEATED IN MY HEAD AS I boarded the plane for Atlanta, little Drake's hand pressed in mine, his eyes wide and staring at the bustle of the airport. "Tell me again where we're going, Heaven," he asked as we arranged ourselves in the seats of the bkpt.
"We're going home, Drake. Home to
Winnerow, Where I grew up. Where your daddy grew up. And now you'll grow up there, too," I said, putting a cheerful tone in my voice and excitement in my eyes. "And you'll be happy there, so happy!"
"But Heaven, I thought I was going to live in that castle! I liked it there." His voice was
disappointed.
"I promise you'll like it even better in
Winnerow, Drake. Why, we can go visit the house your daddy lived in. And there's lots of hills and forests to play in called the Willies, and there's fiddlers and a wonderful school and playgrounds and lots of children to play with, Oh, Drake, it's a wonderful place for a boy to grow up. I promise."
Soon we were again in the clouds and Drake was immediately asleep, giving my agitated mind time to play and replay what had happened the night before, and with it the circle of betrayals that was like a noose, growing tighter and tighter around my life until it seemed it would choke me. But I was determined to free myself from Tony's hold once and for all. For now it was completely, irrevocably clear to me. It was at Tony's door that all my troubles could be laid, from the very beginning of my life.
Logan's bright cheerful face greeted us at the airport gate. He picked up the sleepy Drake and kissed his cheeks, then looked at me with a million questions in his eyes. "When we get home, Logan, tell you everything. Not now. Okay?"
He nodded his assent, and the long trip to Winnerow was made in silence. I could almost hear the gears and wheels turning in Logan's mind, like the complicated mechanics of an intricate Tatterton toy.
Although Drake was a little tired from our fast and furious journey, he sat up alertly and took in the scenery as we entered Winnerow. On the telephone lines starlings sat like miniature dark soldiers, puffy, sleeping birds, eyes closed, anticipating the coming cold and waiting for the warming sun. Some of them opened their eyes and peered down at us as we drove down Main Street.
"I remember this street," Drake cried, pressing his face to the window, "Pa's circus was here!"
"You're a bright little boy, Drake," I said, hugging him to me. "You couldn't have been more than four years old."
"I was just a baby then. '" ut Tom said--" Drake suddenly climbed out of my arms and stared wildly through the window. "Is Tom going to be here? Is he? Is he?"
"My poor darling boy," I said, tears filling my eyes, "Tom's with your ma and pa in Heaven, Drake."
Then I quickly pointed out some of the sights of Winnerow. I wanted Drake to start looking into the future, which I hoped beyond hope would only be bright and cheerful for him, rather than his dark and tragic past. Winnerow had only one main street, and all the others branched off that. In the middle of the town was the school, backed up by the blue, smoky mountains.
"That's going to be your school," I said, pointing to the playground. "I used to be a teacher there."
"Are you going to be my teacher? I've never gone to school," Drake whispered, his eyes wide with excitement and fear.
