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"To tell you the truth," I said bitterly, "neither do I." I looked back at the house again. A group of Tony's male friends came out laughing and patting each other on the arms and shoulders. "All right," I said, "we'll go into the maze and look for pieces of trimmed hedges. We can't get lost anyway," I added, "because we can just follow our footsteps in the snow back."
"That's right." He charged ahead of me into the maze. I hesitated a moment and then followed.
Actually, I welcomed the serenity of the maze. I wanted to be cut off from all the noise and activity. I felt very irritated; my stomach churned, my heart pounded. I recalled the piano playing "Here Comes the Bride," and that made me more and more furious.
But as we made the turn in the maze and went deeper and deeper into the belly of it, the world beyond fell farther and farther away. The tall hedges served as great walls, cutting us off from the sounds at the front of the house. The thickened snowflakes that fell floated into the corridors clinging to the hedges. Troy surged ahead, looking back every few moments to be sure I was still following him. I lost track of how many sharp, right angles we took. One corridor looked the same as another, especially dressed in the newly forming coats of snow. I was glad we were doing this through snow though, for now I understood how easily it would be for someone to get lost. The maze was indeed deep and seemingly endless.
"Troy," I finally called. "We'd better turn back. There are no hedge trimmings and we're just wandering about in circles, I think."
"No we're not. We're going toward the cottage." "What is this cottage? Who lives in it?"
"Nobody now. It's one of my secret places," he whispered.
"Well, we'd better not try to find it," I said looking back. "Just a little more, please. Please, Leigh," he pleaded. "All right," I said. "We'll go just a little more, but if we don't find it soon, we have to turn back, okay?"
He nodded quickly and ran ahead, disappearing around a turn. He was moving so rapidly through the corridors, I had to depend on seeing his little footsteps in the snow.
"Troy, don't go so quickly," I shouted. "Troy." I quickened my pace, but he was being mischievous and remained a turn ahead of me. "Troy!"
Finally, I made a turn and found myself out of the maze, on the other side. And there it was--just as Troy had said, a little house that looked like something Momma might have drawn in one of her children's book illustrations. Some magician had touched the pages and made it real. Surrounded by tall pines was a small stone cottage with a red slate roof. There was a path of pale flagstone leading to the front door.
"Come on, Leigh," Troy called and hurried down the path to the front door.
"Wait," I cried, but he had already turned the doorknob and entered. I followed and found him sitting in a hard maple rocking chair next to the fireplace. He wore this big smile of self-satisfaction. I looked around the small room and imagined it could be very cozy when the fireplace was burning. There were just some simple pieces of furniture, an old couch, an easy chair, a rectangular brown rug, some small tables and empty dark pine wooden shelves. The thin, white cotton curtains hung sadly over the frosted windows. It was so cold in the cottage that I could see both Troy's breath and mine . I embraced myself to keep warm.
"No one lives here now?" I asked as I wandered through to look at the one small bedroom and the small kitchen. There was a single bed in the bedroom and a small dresser, but no rug on the floor and no mirrors. The kitchen had an old coal stove, a small sink, and instead of a refrigerator, an ice box, the doors of which were wide open. Nothing was in it, however. Troy jumped off the rocker to follow me.
"Boris lives here in the summer sometimes, but it's really my secret place," Troy said.
"You don't come here by yourself? How did you find your way through the maze?" I asked him. He shrugged. I understood, it had just been luck.
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p; "Lucky for us we only have to trace our footsteps back." I continued to look around. "This must be nice in the spring and summer though."
"Will we come here again? Will we, Leigh?"
"I suppose," I said. Maybe it would become my secret place, too, I thought, especially when things became too difficult for me back at the mansion.
"I can bring in some logs from the pile outside," Troy said. "And we can make a fire in the fireplace."
"No, no, I think we had better just head back. We've been gone a long time. Everyone will wonder where we've gone and it's starting to snow harder."
"Don't you want to make a fire and warm up first. There's matches here," he said shooting around me and into the kitchen. He pulled a chair over to the stove and stood up on it to reach onto the shelves above and come down with a box of wooden matches. "See."
"Yes."
"Let's make a fire and warm up, Leigh. I'll get the kindling wood, too," he said and dropped the matches on the table and ran out.
"Troy." He was already out the front door. I shook my head and laughed at his enthusiasm. I didn't think we had been gone all that long. Maybe warming up with a small fire would be all right. It seemed like fun, too. Troy came rushing back in with an armload of kindling wood. He brushed the snow off it.
"Want me to do it or do you know how?" he asked. "You know how?"
"Sure I do. Boris showed me lots of times." He placed the kindling wood in the fireplace and carefully arranged the sticks. Then he pushed open the vent and taking great pains to get it right the first time, lit some small twigs under some large ones. Soon he had quite a little fire going. He ran out and brought in two good-size logs and placed them carefully on the fire.
"Very good, Troy." I was amazed. "You're very grown up."
"I'm like the daddy here," he said proudly. "You can be like the mommy and make us supper and clean."
