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"No one, please," I pleaded.
"Very well.I'll bring you something hot to drink and something hot to eat. Perhaps that will make you feel better," she said.
Make me feel better? No food, no doctor, not a roomful of friends could make me feel better, I wanted to tell her; but instead I turned away and pulled my blanket up to my chin. Troy looked in on me again, disappointed that I wouldn't be coming out of my suite to play with him or take a walk. I ate a little of the hot oatmeal Mrs. Carter brought up and sipped some sweet tea.
Tony didn't come to my suite. I was prepared to throw him out, to shout and be hysterical and draw the attention of all the servants if necessary. Perhaps he anticipated that and stayed away.
Mrs. Carter returned with some lunch. Again, I ate like a mouse, nibbling at a sandwich, drinking a little juice. Late in the afternoon, she returned and asked again if I would like her to send for a doctor.
"No, a doctor can't help me," I replied. "Just send my mother to me the moment she arrives."
"Very well," Mrs. Carter said, shaking her head. She took away the tray of dishes and food. I dozed off a few times until the late afternoon. Finally, I heard a commotion in the corridor outside my suite and knew Momma had arrived from Europe. I waited with great anticipation, positive the servants had already told her about my not leaving my suite all day and not eating very much.
The outer door burst open and Momma came in quickly, sweeping through my bedroom and up to my bed like a gust of fresh air. I pulled the blanket down and gazed up at her. Her hair was swept up in a stylish chignon and she wore a dark blue silk suit, the jacket buttoned snugly about her waist. She looked svelte, her complexion clear and smooth, her eyes bright and happy. Crystal earrings in the shape of tiny icicles dangled from her lobes. They captured light around them and glittered.
"Leigh VanVoreen," she declared, her hands on her hips, "how dare you be sick the day I return. Now what's wrong with you? It's summer. People don't get colds in summer."
"Oh Momma," I cried. "Momma." I pulled the blanket down and sat up. "A terrible thing has happened. And twice!"
"What is this nonsense, Leigh? I thought you were sick. As soon as I came through that front door, that Mrs. Carter came running to greet me, wringing her hands and crying about how sick you are and how you wouldn't let her send for a doctor and how you refused to see anyone. Do you have any idea what it's like traveling to and from Europe? How tired I am?
"It's been an ordeal, you know," she said twisting and turning herself so she could catch her image in my vanity mirror, "losing the weight and getting the imperfections out of my body. But it's over, and I've been successful. Everyone thinks so. What do you think?" She turned to me with an expectant look on her face, ready to be lavished with compliments. But there would be no compliments today . . . only bitter truths. I wasn't going to allow Momma to escape the truth any longer!
"Momma, I've gone through a far more terrible ordeal right here at Farthy. Tony came into my room twice and . . . forced himself on me," I cried. "He . . . he . . ."
Why was she letting me go on? Did I have to tell her every last, ugly detail? I looked at her with tears in my eyes, expecting her to rush to my side, wrapping her arms around me and consoling me with warm hugs and kisses . . promising to make everything better . . . safe . as it had once been.
She came to my side with an amazing burst of speed. At last I had gotten her attention! At last she would listen to me! But then I noticed her eyes-- always her eyes! Already they were narrowing to dangerous slits, glittering with coldness. Oh, how I was frightened! My tears immediately stopped and my stomach grew cold, my butterflies fluttering with full force. She didn't believe me! Momma's eyes always revealed her true emotions.
"What?" she incredulously demanded. "What kind of ridiculous story is this? Forced himself on you? Really, Leigh. I've heard that teenagers fantasize, but isn't this a bit much?"
I shook my head furiously. "No, Momma. This isn't a fantasy. It happened. It really did." Now that I had her full attention I couldn't lose it. I had to make her listen! "Let me tell you all of-it; please. Please, listen."
"I'm listening," she said, her face contorting with annoyance.
"The night before last, I followed him through the maze to the cottage."
"Followed him? Why?"
"I was curious as to why he was still working there, why he had kept it as an art studio."
"You shouldn't be following him about like that, Leigh," she said, convicting me of an
indiscretion without hearing the rest of it. I ignored her and continued.
"When I got to the cottage, I peered in a window and I saw that he had painted another picture of me . . . of the two of us, only he had painted himself in it. . . naked!"
"Really?" she said.
"A moment later, he appeared, naked." "Was he alone?" she asked quickly.
"Yes, but. . . anyway, I got frightened and ran home.
After I went to bed, he came in here . . . naked, and he attacked me, forcing me to make love to him."
She stared at me, a skeptical look still on her face.
"He did! And then, last night . . . I went to your bedroom to lock myself safely within and he came to me again. He had a key. At first he thought I was you, but it didn't matter. He forced himself on me again. Oh Momma, it was horrible. I couldn't fight him." Her expression didn't change. "Momma, don't you hear what I'm saying?"
