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"I can't help it," he whispered. "You're a young lady now and I'm afraid I'm losing my little girl."
"Oh Daddy. I'll never stop being your little girl," I cried.
He kissed me again and held me to him snugly until Mommy cleared her throat.
"I have something I would like Annie to have now," she announced. I couldn't believe what she had in her hand: something I knew was more important to her than the most expensive jewels she had. In fact, I couldn't think of any possession that was more precious to her, and now she was going to give it to me!
I thought about the days when I was a little girl before I was old enough to begin school. I remembered my mother spent what seemed to me to be hours and hours brushing my hair in her room by her vanity table while we listened to the music of Chopin. She would take on this dreamy look, a small smile playing on her beautifully shaped lips.
Near us on another, but much smaller table, was what I used to call her dollhouse, even though it wasn't really a dollhouse; it was one of the few examples of a Tatterton toy we had in our home. It was a replica of a toy cottage with a maze of hedges near it. I wasn't permitted to touch it, but sometimes, she would take the roof off and let me look at the inside. There were two people in there, a man and a young girl. The man was sprawled on the floor, his hands behind his head, looking up at the young girl, who seemed to be listening intently to something he was saying.
"What is he saying to her, Mommy?" I asked
. "He's telling her a story."
"What kind of a story, Mommy?"
"Oh, a story about a magical world where people are always snug and warm, where there is only beauty and kindness."
"Where is this world, Mommy?"
"For a while it was in the cottage."
"Can I go to that world, too, Mommy?"
"Oh, my darling, sweet Annie. I hope so." "Were you there, Mommy?"
I could still see her face just before she answered me. Her eyes brightened bluer than the sky ever was, and the smile on her lips widened and deepened until her whole face grew softer and more beautiful. She looked like a little girl herself
"Oh yes, Annie, I was. Once."
"Why did you leave, Mommy?"
"Why?" She looked around as if the answer were written down on a piece of paper she had left somewhere. Then she swung her eyes back to me, the tears glistening over them, arid she embraced me. "Because, Annie, because it was too wonderful to bear."
Of course, I never understood and still couldn't. How can something be too wonderful to bear?
But I didn't think more about it. I wanted to look in at the tiny furniture and dishes. They were so perfect, I wanted to touch them. But I was forbidden to do that because everything was too fragile.
And now she was giving it to me. I looked at Daddy. His eyes were small as he stared intensely at the cottage. I never knew what it meant to him. "Mommy, no. It means so much to you," I protested.
"And so do you mean so much to me, honey," Mommy said, handing me the cottage. I took it into my hands carefully, lovingly, and quickly put it safely down on my dresser.
"Oh thank you. Ill cherish it always," I said, knowing I would not only because it had been so special to her, but because whenever I was permitted to look in at the man and the woman, I thought about Luke and myself running off and living happily ever after in such a cottage.
"You're welcome, honey."
My parents stood there smiling at me, both looking so young and happy. What a wonderful morning to awaken, I thought. I wished my eighteenth birthday would go on and on forever, that my whole life was just one long, happy day when everyone was in a pleasant and glorious mood and all of us were kind to one another.
After they left, I took a shower and dressed and stood before my closet, spending time considering what I would wear on such a special morning. I decided to wear the pink angora sweater and white silk skirt, an outfit similar to the one the young girl in the toy cottage wore.
I brushed my hair down and pinned it back at the sides and put on very light pink lipstick. Happy with myself, I rushed out of my room and bounced down the soft, blue carpet stairs. As if all the world were celebrating my birthday, the sun was shining with a rich golden splendor. Even the leaves and long, spidery thin branches on the weeping willow trees just outside the front windows looked translucent. Everything green was greener. Every flower that had blossomed was brighter. The world was full of color and warmth.
I stopped at the foot of the stairs because there wasn't a sound in the house . . . no one talking, no servants moving about.
"Hello? Where is everybody?"
I went into the dining room. The table was set for breakfast, but there was no one there. I looked in the living room and sitting room and den, but there was no one in any of those rooms. Drake, who had come home from college the night before, just for my birthday, wasn't even up and about.
