V.C. Andrews - Casteel Family Saga 3 Fallen Hearts

Old and New Lives

I WAS IN OUR SUITE LYING IN BED WHEN LOGAN FINALLY arrived. I had cried myself to sleep, and awakened with my throat raw, my heart like a stone in my chest. I just lay there staring up at the ceiling. Sorrow had seized me and made me its own silent creature. I didn't even turn to greet Logan as he came through the bedroom door.

Heaven! He rushed to my side and hugged me. Even though I felt limp in his arms, I welcomed the feel of his strong, comforting embrace and the rich scent of his manly cologne.

Poor Heaven, he crooned, stroking my neck.

I lowered my head to his shoulder. I felt false, betraying him, knowing he thought he was soothing sorrow brought about solely because of Jillian, but I let him go on. He pressed his face to mine and kissed me.

It must have been terrible for you, he said. I'm sorry I wasn't here when you found her. Tony's taking it very badly, he added. "I stopped by his office to see him on my way up to you and he would barely talk. Is there anything left to do? Anything I

could help with? I couldn't get him to say. I don't think so," I said, shaking my head. I

looked at him, my faithful, devoted Logan, energetic, optimistic, and determined. He was healthy and strong and vibrant. He seemed incapable of being depressed or diminished. His sapphire eyes were full of hope and life. Even now, even during these troubled times, he still possessed the same demeanor of assurance he had when I had first set eyes on him.

How different in temperament he was from Troy, who always lived under a threatening cloud of sorrow. True, Logan wasn't as sensitive or as poetic, but at this time I welcomed his sunshine like the grass and the wild flowers in the Willies welcomed the sun's rays that slipped through the gloom of the forest. I knew he would always be there to lean on, should I need to or want to. He was my source of strength, my Rock of Gibraltar.

During the days of mourning, Logan kept in constant contact with his office in Winnerow, but he had the decency to carry on his business out of sight and hearing and rarely, if ever, mentioned it. Tony didn't want to talk about anything but Jillian.

Visitors began to arrive the day after Jillian's death. It fell to me to be the hostess to greet and thank

them. The day before the funeral there were over a hundred people at Earthy. Rye Whiskey prepared trays and trays of food and drink. All the servants were wonderfully supportive and terribly concerned about Tony. I saw how much they respected and even loved him.

Logan remained constantly at Tony's side, looking more and more as if he, and not Troy, were his younger brother. I was proud of him, proud of the way he conversed with people, and proud of the affection and comfort he was able to give to Tony.

Jillian's two sisters and brother didn't arrive until the morning of the funeral. As soon as they came to Farthy, Tony got up from his chair and took them directly into his office to show them Jillian's will and make it very clear that they weren't going to leave with any inheritance. He took the wind out of their sails of greed, gathering some pleasure from their gloomy faces of disappointment. Afterward, he told me this was something Jillian would have loved to have seen.

They were always jealous of her, he explained, "especially her two sisters. They were so plain and homely looking it was no wonder they couldn't attract a man. They became so sour and so

bitter, Jillian hated to be in their company. They never even informed her they had put her mother into a home until months after they had done it."

The elegant Boston church was packed for the funeral; there were even people standing in the rear by the door. Afterward, the funeral procession of fancy automobiles and high society that inched along the highway to the cemetery reminded me of the parade of people who had come to Logan's and my wedding reception. When I looked back at the way these people greeted one another, the men dressed in expensive suits, the women in costly dresses, bedecked in rich jewels, I couldn't help but compare them to people in the Willies at the burial of their own poor and distraught, their faces cloaked in gloom, as they stood by and watched one of their young 'uns or old ones lowered into the earth.

As poor and as unsophisticated as the people in the Willies were, they felt sorrow for one another in a way that suggested they were all of one family. Perhaps all the hardships, all the struggles tied them so tightly together that it was impossible for them to come to the funeral of one of their neighbors, whether he be young or old, and not feel as though one of their own had passed on.

Afterward, they would return to their own shacks to ponder their own fragile, vulnerable existence. Death had a freer hand in the Willies; there was less resistance. Being poor made them weak. And yet, I thought, how foolish these rich people were to move about with such arrogance. Did they have no feelings, no empathy? Jillian's death should have put in their hearts the same kind of cold fear as was put in the hearts of the people in the Willies to see one of their own, a woman as rich and as protected as Jillian, so easily claimed by death.

I stood by Tony's side and held his arm as they lowered Jillian's coffin into her grave, and I thought about Troy's plea in his final letter to me to give Tony enough comfort for both of us. His hand tightened around mine, but he did not weep openly. I felt him shudder and then we all turned to leave the cemetery.

Well, he said stiffly, now she's finally at peace. Her stru le is over.

Neither Logan nor I said anything more. We all got into the limo and Miles drove us back to Farthy. Rye Whiskey had prepared some hot food, but Tony ate little. He left the mourners and went to his suite to sleep and it remained for Logan and me to greet, entertain, and finally say good-bye to people.

One of the mourners who came to pay her respects was a girlfriend of mine from the Winterhaven School, Amy Luckett, who had been the friendliest to me of all the rich, arrogant, and snotty girls who made my life miserable there. Amy wasn't married. She had been traveling a great deal through Europe and had only recently returned. She promised to come to Farthy in a day or two to visit. I thanked her; she was one of the last to leave.

alone

Tired? Logan asked me when we were finally

"Yes.'

'Me, too. He put his arm around my shoulders. 'You go up, I said. I'll be right along.

Don't be long, he said and left me. I went outside to get a breath of air before going up to our suite. It was that time of the day Granny used to call the gloaming. Darkness had fallen; most of the natural world was preparing to sleep. I looked off at the maze and thought about Troy, wondering where he had gone and what he was thinking at this moment. Somehow, I was sure his thoughts were of me. My thoughts were interrupted when Miles drove the limo up front. Curtis appeared at the front door with two suitcases and Martha Goodman followed him out of

the house. Oh, Martha, I called, walking over to her. "I

had forgotten you were leaving tonight. I took her hand and then we embraced. Where will you go now?"

Oh, the employment agency has already offered me another position in Boston. I'll write to let you know where I am and maybe sometime when you are in the city...

Oh, of course. I'll take you to lunch, I offered. She nodded, smiling,and then her face saddened.