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"I will. I'm looking forward to going." Luke glanced at my mother and then quickly turned back to me. For as long as I could remember, there was that shyness in Luke whenever he was in my mother's company. He was normally shy anyway, but he was afraid to have her catch him staring at her, and I couldn't remember him having long conversations with her, or with Daddy for that matter, even though I knew how much he admired them.
"Well, it's wonderful how well you have done in school, Luke," she told him, hoisting her shoulders back and raising her head with what some in town called "her defiant Casteel pride." I knew most of the women in Winnerrow were jealous of her. Besides being beautiful, she was a successful businesswoman. There wasn't a man who didn't adore her and respect her for being as efficient as she was sweet. "We are all proud of you."
"Thank you, Heaven," he replied, brushing his hair back and pretending interest in his textbook while his heart was bursting with happiness.
Suddenly he looked at his watch.
"Didn't realize the time," he said. "I'd better be heading home."
"I thought you were going to eat with us tonight," I protested before he could step away.
"Of course you should eat with us tonight, Luke." My mother looked with adoration at Drake. "It's Drake's last night home before his return to college," she said. "Would Fanny mind?"
"No." A subtle, sarcastic smile appeared at the corners of Luke's mouth. "She won't be home tonight."
"Okay then," my mother said quickly. She didn't want to hear the details. All of us knew about Fanny's escapades with younger men, and I knew how much it embarrassed and bothered Luke. "It's settled. I'll have another place set."
She turned, her eyes resting for a long moment on my canvas. I looked at it and then quickly turned to her to see if there was any sign of recognition in her face. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes suddenly far off as if she had been serenaded by a distant song.
"It's not finished yet," I said quickly, afraid she might say something critical. Even though both she and Daddy had been very supportive of my painting ever since I had begun, paying for all the less() s, providing me with the best brushes and paints, I couldn't help but feel insecure. Daddy had such wonderful artisans in his factory, some of the most talented people in the country. He knew what real art was.
"Why don't you paint a picture of the Willies, Annie?" She turned and pointed toward the
mountains. "I'd love to hang something like that in the dining room. The Willies in spring with its blossoming forests full of birds; or even in fall with the rainbow colors of the leaves. You do so well when you paint a scene in nature."
"Oh Mommy, my work isn't good enough to be displayed. Not yet anyway," I said, shaking my head.
"But you have it in you, Annie." Her blue eyes softened with love and reassurance. "It's in your blood," she whispered, as though she were saying something blasphemous.
"I know. Great-grandpa whittled wonderful rabbits and forest creatures."
"Yes." My mother sighed, the memories bringing a soft smile to her face. "I can still see him, sitting on the porch of the shack, whittling away for hours and hours, taking a shapeless piece of wood and turning it into a lifelike little forest creature. How wonderful it is to be artistic, Annie, to come to a blank canvas and create something beautiful on it."
"Oh, Mommy, I'm really not that good yet. Maybe I'll never be," I cautioned, "but I can't stop wanting to be."
"Of course you will be good, and you can't stop wanting to do it because . . . because of your artistic heritage." She paused as if she had just told me some great secret. Then she smiled and kissed me on the cheek.
"Walk in with me, Drake," she said. "I have some things I'd like to discuss before I forget and you're off to college."
Drake stepped over first and gazed at my painting.
"I was just kidding you before, Annie. It's good," he said, practically under his breath so my mother wouldn't hear. "I know how you feel, wanting to see bigger and better things than Winnerrow. Once you leave this one-horse town," he added, turning a little toward Luke, "you won't have to spend your time pretending you're somewhere else."
With that he joined my mother. She threaded her arm through his and they started toward the front of Hasbrouck House. Something Drake said made her laugh. I knew Drake occupied a special place in her heart because he reminded her so much of her father. She loved walking through Winnerrow with him, arm in arm.
Sometimes I would catch Luke staring at them together, a look of longing in his face, and I understood how much he wanted to have a real and complete family. It was part of the reason he loved coming over to Hasbrouck House, even if he only sat quietly and watched us. Here there was a father, the father he never had, but should have had, and here there was a mother he would have rather had.
I felt Luke's eyes on me and I turned around. He was staring at me, a troubled, sad look on his face, as if he could read my thoughts and knew how sad I felt for all of us sometimes, despite our wealth and position in Winnerrow. Sometimes, I found myself envying much poorer families because their lives seemed so much simpler than ours . . no secret pasts, no relatives to be ashamed of, no half brothers and half uncles, not that I would trade away anyone in my family. I loved them all. I even loved Aunt Fanny. It was as if we were all victims of the same curse.
"Do you want to continue with your painting, Annie?" Luke asked, his blue eyes bright, hopeful. "You're not tired?"
"No. Are you?" he asked.
"I never get tired of painting and I never get tired of painting you," I added.
TWO Birthday Gifts
. Luke's and my eighteenth birthday was a very special day for us both. My parents came into my room that morning to wake me. Daddy had bought me a gold locket with his and Mommy's pictures in it. It was on a twenty-four-carat gold chain and glittered brighter than any charm. He put it on me and kissed me and hugged me so hard, my heart fluttered. He saw the look of surprise on my face.
