Casteel 1 - Heaven (41 page)

neva come, an letters nobody writes. It's a shame, a cryin shame, what kids kin do t'parents once they're too old to do em any good."

“I understood my father sends money every month.”

“Oh, he does, he does! A fine man, yer father, a real fine lookin an actin man. Why, I rememba him from way back when he were a kid, an all t'gals were hot t'catch him. Kin't say I blame em nonebut he sure turned out a lot different than most folks thought he wouldhe sure did.”

What did she mean? Pa was a rotter through and through, and all of Winnerrow had to know that. She grinned, showing false teeth so white they

appeared chalky. “Nice place, ain't it? Yer Heaven Casteel, ain't ya? Saw yer mom once or twice, a real beauty, really too fine fer this hateful world, an I guess God must've thought t'same thing. Ya got t'same kind of look as she had, tender, like ya kin't take much.” She rested her small but friendly eyes on me before she frowned again. “Get ya gone from this place, honey. Ya ain't meant fer t'likes of what we are.”

She would have rambled on all day if I hadn't asked to see my grandfather. "I haven't got much time.

I'd like to see my grandfather now." The woman led me through the dim foyer of the

house. I glimpsed old-​fashioned rooms with beaded lampshades, browning portraits hanging from ceiling moldings on heavy twisted silken ropes, before I was led up the steep stairs. This huge house seemed terribly old now that I was inside. All the glory of new paint and refurbishings was on the outside. There was nothing fresh and clean inside but the scent of Lysol.

Lysol. . .

Take yer bath now, hill scum. Use plenty of Lysol, stupid. Gotta rid ya of Casteel filth. I shivered.

We passed a room on the second floor that seemed a page straight from a thirties Sears catalog.

“Ya kin have five minutes with him,” I was informed as the woman became more businesslike. “I've got sixteen people t'feed three meals a day, an yer grandpa has t'do his share of t'work.”

Grandpa hadn't ever done his share of the housework!

How abruptly some personalities could change. Up three more flights of steep, twisting stairs. The buttocks under that flimsy cotton dress seemed twin

wild animals fighting each otherI had to look away. Oh, how had Grandpa managed to climb these stairs, even once? How did he ever go outside? The higher we went, the older the house appeared. Up here no one cared if the paint was chipped and peeling off, if roaches scuttled all over the floor. Spiders spun webs in dim corners, draped them from chair to table, from lamp to base. What a fright all this would give Kitty! . ..

On the top level, we followed a narrow hall with many closed doors, to reach the door at the very end, and when it was opened, it revealed a pitifully small, shabby room, with a sagging old bed, a small dresserand there sat Grandpa in a creaky old rocker. He'd aged so much I hardly recognized him. It broke my heart to see the second rockerboth chairs had been taken from our pitiful cabin in the Willies, and Grandpa was talking as if Granny sat in her rocker. “Ya work t'hard on yer knittin,” he murmured. “Gotta get ready fer Heaven girl who's comm. .”

It was unbelievably hot up there.

There was no beautiful scenery all around, no dogs, cats, kittens, pigs, hogs, or chickens to keep my grandpa company. Nothing here at all but a few pieces of beat-​up old furniture. He was so lonely he'd turned

on his imagination, and put his Annie in that empty rocker.

As I stood in the open doorway hearing that landlady stomp away, an overwhelming pity washed over me. “Grandpa . . . it's me, Heaven Leigh.”

His faded blue eyes turned to stare my way, not with interest as much as with surprise at hearing a different voice, seeing a different face. Had he reached a certain kind of miserable plateau where nothing really mattered?

“Grandpa,” I whispered again, tears welling, my heart aching to see him like this. “It's me, Heaven girl. That's what you used to call medon't you remember? Have I changed so much?”

Slow recognition came. Grandpa tried to smile, to show happiness, his pale eyes lighting up, opening wider. I threw myself into his arms that slowly opened to receive me . . . and just in the nick of time. While he silently cried, I held him in my arms and wiped away his tears with my handkerchief.

“Now, now,” soothed Grandpa, finding a rusty voice to use while smoothing my rumpled hair, “don't ya cry. We ain't sufferin, not Annie, not me. Neva had it so good before, huh, Annie?”

Oh, dear God! . . . He was looking at the empty

rocker and seeing Granny! He even reached to pat where her hand would have been if she'd been sitting there. Then, almost with relief, he leaned over to spread sheets of old newspapers on the floor at his feet, and began with his sharp knife to shave a piece of tree limb free of bark. It was so good to see those hands busy.

“Lady here pays me an Annie t'work, help wid t'cookin, an t'make these critters,” Grandpa said in a low whisper. “Hate t'see em go. Neva thought I'd let even one go, but it means nice thins for Annie. She kin't hear so good nowadays, either. Gonna buy her a hearin aid. But I kin hear good, real good. Don't need no glasses yet. . . . That is ya, Heaven girl, that really ya? Yer lookin good, like yer ma who came. Annie . . . where did Luke's angel come from? Kin't seem t're- memba much of nothin lately . . .”

“Granny's looking fine, Grandpa,” I managed to say as I knelt by his side and put my cheek on his old gnarled hand when it was momentarily still. “Are they good to you here?”

“It's not so bad,” he said vaguely, looking lost and bewildered when he moved his eyes over the room. "An I'm mighty glad t'see ya lookin so fine an pretty; pretty as yer own true ma. An here ya are,

Luke's angel's Heaven. Gladdens this heart t'see yer face lookin like yer ma come back t'life."

He paused, looked at me uneasily before he went on. “Know ya don't love yer pa, know ya don't even want t'hear bout him, but still he's yer fatha, an there's nothin t'be done bout that now. My Luke's done gone an got himself some kind of crazy, dangerous job, so I hear tell, but don't know what it is, cept he's makin lots of money. Luke set Annie and me up here with his money, didn't leave us t'starve.”

How grateful he seemed for nothing! This horrible small room! And then I felt shamed, for he was better off here than alone in the cabin.

“Grandpa, where is Pa?”

He stared at me blankly, then lowered his eyes to his whittling. “Like t'dead risin from t'grave,” he muttered. “Like God tried once an made a mistake, an's tryin again t'do it right. God help her.”

It sure did make me feel strange, his saying that. I knew he didn't realize he'd said those frightening words aloud. Still, I felt sort of doomed. And even worse, he kept on speaking in that strange, mumbling way, as if to his Annie. “Would ya look at her, Annie, just would ya?”

"Grandpa, stop mumbling! Tell me where Pa is!

Tell me where I can find Keith, Our Janet You see Pa . . he must have told you where they are."

Vacant stare into nowhere. No voice to answer a question like that.

It was no use.

In time he said all there was to say, and I stood to go. “I'll be coming back soon, Grandpa,” I said at the door. “Take care, now. You hear?”

Then I joined Logan on the porch.

There was someone with him. A tall young man with dark auburn hair who turned when he heard the clickity-​clack of my heels. I stared . . . and then my knees went weak.

Oh, my God! It was Tom! My brother Tom, standing and grinning at me,

just the way he used to do . . . only thing was, in two years and eight months he'd grown to look almost exactly like Pa!

Tom stepped toward me, grinning broadly and holding out his arms. “I can't believe my eyes!” I ran to him then and was caught up in his strong embrace, and we were hugging, kissing, laughing, crying, both trying to talk at once.

Soon all three of us walked down Main Street

with arms locked, me in the middle. We stopped at a park bench that just happened to face the church, and of course the parsonage was across from the church. Fanny could have looked out and seen us there, even if she was too cowardly to join her own family reunion.

“Now, Tom,” I gushed, “tell me everything your letters didn't.”

Tom glanced at Logan and seemed a little embarrassed. Immediately Logan was on his feet, making excuses that he had to hurry back home. “Sorry about this, Logan,” Tom apologized, “but I've only got ten minutes to visit with my sister, and years of filling in to do, but I'll see you again in about a week.”

“See you tomorrow in church,” Logan said to me in a significant way.

Logan left, while I feasted my eyes on Tom. His sparkling green eyes locked with mine. “Good golly, if you ain't a sight for sore eyes.”

“If you aren't' is the way you should say it.” “I should have known. Still the schoolteacher!”

“You're no skinnier than you used to be, but so much taller, and so good-​looking. Tom, I never guessed you'd grow to look like Pa.”

What did he hear in my voice to take the smile from his eyes and lips? “You don't like the way I look now?”

“I like the way you look, of course I do. You're handsomebut did you have to grow up to look so much like Pa?” I almost shouted. Now I'd gone and hurt his feelings when I hadn't meant to do that. “I'm sorry, Tom,” I choked, laying my hand on his huge one. “It's just that you took me by surprise.”

He had an odd look on his face. “There's many a woman who thinks Pa is the best-​looking man alive.”

Frowning, I glanced away. “I don't want to talk about him, please. Now, have you heard anything about Keith and Our Jane?”

He turned his head so I saw his profile, and again I felt stunned that he could be so much like Pa. “Yeah. I heard they are fine, and Our Jane is alive and well. If Pa hadn't done what he did, no doubt she'd be dead.”

“Are you making excuses for him?”

Again he turned to me and grinned. "You sound just like you used to. Don't hold on to hate, Heavenly . . . let go of it before it eats you up and makes you worse than he is. Think of those who love you, like

me. Don't go spoiling everything good that will come along in the future because you had a cruel father. People change. He's taking care of Grandpa, isn't he? Never thought he'd do that, did you? And Buck Henry isn't nearly as mean as he looked that first time we saw him; as you can see, I'm not starved, not sick, not worked to death. And I'll be graduating from high school same time as you do."

“Your hair isn't as red as fire anymore . . .”

“Sorry about that, but I'm glad. Tell me if my eyes still shine with devilment.”

“Yes, they still do.” "Then I haven't changed so much after all, have

I?"

He had a clean, honest face, with clear, shining eyes without secrets, while I had to duck my head and hide my eyes, so scared he'd see my terrible secret. If he knew, he wouldn't respect me as he always had. He'd think I was no better than Fanny, and maybe even worse.

“Why are you hiding your eyes, Heavenly?”

I sobbed and tried to meet his gaze again. If only I could tell him everything right now, and say it all so that he'd see I had been as trapped by my Candlewick circumstances as Fanny had been by her

hill genes. I began to tremble so much that Tom reached to pull me into his arms where I could rest my head on his shoulder. “Please don't cry cause you're so happy to see me, and make me cry, too. I haven't cried since the day Buck Henry bought me from Pa. But I sure did cry a lot that night, wondering what had happened to you after he drove me away. Heavenly, you are all right, aren't you? Nothing bad happened, did it?”

“Of course I'm all right. Don't I look all right?”

He studied my face as I tried to smile and conceal all the guilt and shame I felt. What he saw apparently satisfied him, for he smiled as well. “Gee, Heavenly, it's great to be here with you. Now tell me everything that's happened to you since the day I went awayand say it all fast, cause I'll have to go in another few minutes.”

The urgency in his voice made me look aroundwas Buck Henry with him?

“You first, Tom. Tell me everything you didn't in your letters!”

“Don't have time,” he said, jumping to his feet and pulling me up as I saw a familiar stocky figure coming down the street. "That's him looking for me. Just one fast hug, and I've got to go. He's here in town

buying vet supplies for two sick cows. Next time you've got to tell me more about your life in Candlewick. Your letters say so little. Too much talk about movies and restaurants and clothes. By gosh, it seems to me all of us were blessed the day Pa sold us off."

There were shadows in the emerald depths of his eyes, dark shadows I suddenly noticed, putting doubts in my mind as to his happiness; but before I could question, he was off, calling back: “I'm joining Mr. Henry, but be looking for me next Saturday, and bring Laurie and Thalia with me . . . and we'll all have lunch or dinner togethermaybe both if we're lucky!”

I stood staring after him, so sad to see him going already; he was the one and only person who might understand, if only I could tell him. Tears were streaking my face as I watched him join that man I just couldn't believe Tom could like. Still, he looked fine. He seemed hdp - py, big, and strong. The shadows in his eyes were only there because of the shadows he caught from me, as always he'd been my reflection.

Next Saturday I'd see him again. I could hardly wait for the day!

THE LOVE OF A MAN

.

CAL WAS WAITING FOR ME WHEN I FINALLY RETURNED TO the Setterton home. “Heaven!” he cried when he saw me on the steps. “Where the devil have you been? I've been worried sick about you.”

He was the man who loved me, who'd given me so much happiness when he gave me kindness and care, who gave me shame when he gave me love; and added all together, it totaled up to feeling trapped. As I surrendered to his quick embrace and his hasty kiss, I was enveloped in a heavy fog of despair. I loved him for what he'd done to save me from the worst of Kitty's meanness, and yet I wished desperately that he'd just stayed my father, and not become my lover.

“Why are you looking at me like that, Heaven? Can you love me only in Candlewick, and not in Winnerrow?”

I didn't want to love him in the way he wanted me to! I couldn't let him overwhelm me again with his needs. I whispered hoarsely, “I saw Tom today, and Fanny, and Grandpa.”

“And you're crying? I thought you'd be happy.”

“Nothing is ever quite what you think it's going to be, is it? Tom has grown to be as tall as Pa, and he's only sixteen.”

“And how was Grandpa?”

“So old and pitiful, and pretending Granny's still alive, sitting in the rocker next to him.” I half laughed. “Only Fanny was predictable. She hasn't changed at all in personality, except she has turned into a beauty.”

“I'm sure she can't hold a candle to her sister,” he said in a low, intimate voice, lightly touching my breast. At that moment Maisie opened the screen door, and her eyes were huge. She'd seen! Oh, God!

“Kitty's been callin fer ya,” said Maisie in a small voice. “Ya betta run on up an see what she wants. Ma kin't do nothin right fer her.”

Sunday morning we were all up early preparing to go to church. Kitty had to wait until Monday to see the doctors. “We're all goin t'church,” said Reva Setterton when she saw me in the hall. “Ya hurry an eat yer breakfast so ya kin go. I done took ken of my daughta early, so she's all right t'leave alone fer a few hours.”

Cal was in his bedroom doorway, staring at me in a disturbing way. Did he realize now that it was

better that he and I never be alone again? Surely he had to know Logan was the right one for me, and he'd let me go without making further demands. I pleaded with my eyes, begging him to restore our proper relationship . . . but he frowned and turned away, seeming hurt.

“I'll stay here with Kitty; the rest of you go on,” I said. “I don't like to leave her alone.” Instantly Cal turned to follow Kitty's family out the door. He glanced back to give me a long, appraising look before his lips quirked in a wry small smile.

“Be good to your mother, Heaven.” Was that sarcasm I heard in Cal's voice? Here I was, stuck in this house, when Logan

would be waiting for me in the church. How stupidly blind of me to presume Reva Setterton would stay home with her daughter, and how indifferent she'd been to suggest leaving her alone.

Slowly I climbed the stairs to check on Kitty.

Kitty lay on the wide bed, her face scrubbed so clean it shone. Not only was it red and chafed, as mine had been after that bath in scalding water, her thick red hair had been parted in the middle and was tightly braided in two long plaits that just reached the swell of her bosom. Her mother had put her in a plain white

cotton nightgown such as old ladies wore, buttoned up to the throat, the very kind of nightgown Kitty despised, a plain, cheap nightgown. I'd never seen Kitty look so unattractive.

Her mother was wreaking her own revenge, as Kitty had hers when she put me in boiling water . . . and yet I felt an overwhelming rage rising. I hated Reva Setterton for doing this to a helpless woman! How cruel when Kitty was so defenseless. Like a protective mother I gathered what I needed to undo what Reva had done. I pulled out Kitty's prettiest nightgown, and took off the plain ugly one, before I soothed her chafed skin all over with lotion; then gently I eased the lacy pink nightie over her head. Then I began to undo her tightly bound hair. When I had it styled as best I could, I carefully soothed her irritated face with moisturizer and began to apply her makeup.

As I worked to repair the damage I talked on and on. "Mother, I'm just beginning to understand how it must have been for you. But don't you worry. I just put a good moisturizing lotion all over your body, and cream to help your face. I know I won't make your face up as well as you do it yourself, but I'll try. We're taking you to the hospital tomorrow, and the

doctors are going to give your breasts a more thorough examination. It isn't necessarily true that you have to inherit tumors, Mother. I hope to God you really told me the truth, and you did go, as you said you diddid you really go?"

She didn't answer, though it seemed she was listening, and a tear formed in the corner of her left eye. I went on talking, using blusher, eyebrow pencil, adding lipstick and mascara; and when I'd finished, she looked like herself again. “You know something, Kitty Dennison, you are still a beautiful woman, and it's a damned shame you're lying there and not caring anymore. All you had to do was reach out and tell Cal you love him, and need him, and stop saying no so much, and he'd have been the best husband in the world. Pa wasn't meant to be any woman's husband. You should have known that. He's a born rogue! The best thing that ever happened to you was when he walked out and Cal walked in. You hate my mother, when you should have pitied herlook what he did to her.”

Kitty began to cry. Silent tears slid down her face and ruined her freshly applied makeup.

Early Monday morning an ambulance drove Kitty to the hospital. I rode beside her, and with me

was Cal, while her mother and father stayed home. Maisie and Danny had gone on a hayride into the mountains.

For five hours Cal and I sat on hard, uncomfortable hospital chairs and waited for the verdict on Kitty. Sometimes I held his hand, sometimes he held mine. He was wan, restless, chain- smoking. When Kitty had ruled her house, he'd never smoked; now he couldn't leave cigarettes alone. Finally a doctor called us into an office, and we sat side by side as he tried to tell us without emotion:

"I don't know how it was overlooked before, except sometimes a tumor is very difficult to find when a woman has such large breasts as your wife, Mr. Dennison. We did a mammogram of her left first, since for some reason women seem to have them more frequently on that side than the other, and then her right. She does have a tumor, set deep under the nipple in the most unfortunate place, for it's difficult to discover there. It's about five centimeters in size. That's very large for this type of tumor. We are absolutely sure your wife has known about this tumor for some time. When we tried to do the mammogram, she suddenly came out of her lethargy and fought us. She screamed and yelled, and shouted out 'Let me

die!" asked.

Stunned, both Cal and I. “She can talk now?” he

“Mr. Dennison, your wife could always talk. She chose not to. She knew she had a growth. She's told us she'd rather be dead than have her breast removed. When women feel this strongly about losing a breast, we don't push the issue; we su: est alternatives. She's refused chemotherapy, for it would cause the loss of her hair. She wants us to try radiation . . . and if that fails, she says she is ready to 'meet her Maker.” “ He paused, and something that I couldn't read flickered through his eyes. ”In all honesty I have to tell you that her tumor has gone beyond the size that can be treated by radiation . . . but since that's all she'll do to help herself, we have no alternative but to do our bestunless you can convince her otherwise."

Cal stood up and seemed to quiver. “I have not once in my life convinced my wife of anything. I'm sure I can't now, but try.”

He did his best. I was with him when he pleaded at her bedside. “Please, Kitty, have the operation. I want you to live.” She clammed up again. Only when she glanced at me did her pale green eyes shimmer, with hate or something else, I couldn't tell.

“You go home now,” ordered Cal, settling in the only chair in her room. “Even if it takes me a month, I'll convince her.”

It was three o'clock on Monday, and my heels made clicking sounds on the pavement. I wore blue button earrings Cal had given me only a week ago. He gave me so much, everything he thought I could possibly want. He'd even given me Kitty's jewelry box, but I couldn't force myself to use anything that belonged to her. The sweetness of this beautiful afternoon made me feel younger and fresher than I had since that first day Kitty had made me feel like hill scum. Whatever happened to Kitty would be of her own making, in a way, for she could have saved that breast if she'd acted sooner, and ended up with only a tiny scar that no man would ever notice.

With every step I took I prayed Cal would convince Kitty to have that operation. I prayed, too, that she'd see him for the fine man he was, and when she did, I knew he'd let go of me. It was Kitty he loved, had always loved, and she'd treated him so poorly, as if she couldn't love any man after what Pa had done to harm her.

Pa! Always full circle back to Pa! Footsteps were following. I didn't look around.

“Hey,” called a familiar voice. “I waited for you yesterday.”

Why did my steps quicken when all along I'd hoped he'd seek me out? “Heaven, don't you run. You can't run fast enough and you can't run far enough to escape me.”

I spun around and watched Logan approach. He'd grown to be everything I'd ever dreamed he could beand it was too late to claim him now for my own. Much too late.

“Go away!” I flared. “You don't want me now!”

“Now, you wait a minute,” he growled, catching up and grabbing me by the arm, forcing me to walk with him. “Why are you acting like this? What have I done? One day you love me, the next day you push me away. . . what's going on?”

My heart ached so much I felt weak. Yes, I loved him, had always loved him; would always love him; and yet I had to say what I did. "Logan, I'm sorry, but I keep remembering how you ignored me that last Sunday before Pa sold me to the Dennisons. I wanted your help, and you looked right through me, and you were all I had after Miss Beale went away. You were my white knight, my savior, and you did nothing, absolutely nothing! How can I ever really

trust you after that?“ Pain was in his eyes as he reddened. ”How

dumb can you be, Heaven? You think you're in this world all by yourself with your problems, while nobody else has any. You knew I had trouble with my eyes that year. What do you think I was doing while you were starving up there on your mountaintop? Down in the valley I was almost going blind, so I had to be flown to a special hospital to have eye surgery! That's where I was! Far from here, stuck in a hospital with my head held in a clamp, my eyes heavily bandaged until they healed. Then I had to wear dark glasses and take it easy until my retinas were securely attached again. That day when you thought I saw you in church, I was only trying to see, and all I got were blurry imagesand I was looking for you! You were the reason I was there at all!"

“Do you see all right now?” I asked with a lump in my throat.

He smiled, then stared into my eyes until my vision blurred.

“I'm seeing you with twenty-​twenty eyes. Say I'm forgiven for that long-​ago Sunday?”

“Yes,” I whispered. I swallowed all the tears that wanted to come again, bit on my lip before I

bowed my head and rested my forehead briefly on his chest. I said a silent prayer for God to let him forgive me when or if I ever had to tell him. Useless to him now that I wasn't what he believed me to be untouched, no longer a virgin. Yet I couldn't bring myself to tell him, not here.

With resolve I began to lead him toward the woodsy area of Winnerrow.

“Where are we going?” he asked, his fingers intertwining with mine. “To see your cabin?”

“No, you've already gone there by yourself and discovered all I wanted to hide from you. There's another place I should have shown you years ago.”

Hand in hand we strolled on toward the overgrown trail that would take us up to the graveyard. I glanced at him from time to time; several times our eyes met and locked, forcing me to tear my eyes away. He did love me. I could tell. Why hadn't I been stronger, shown more resistance? I sobbed and stumbled, and quickly he reached to balance me. I ended up in his arms. “I love you, Heaven,” he whispered hoarsely, his warm, sweet breath on my face before he kissed me. "All last night I lay awake thinking about how wonderful you are, how faithful and devoted you stay to your family. You're the kind

of woman a man can trust; the kind you can leave alone and know will stay faithful."

Gone numb from the misery I felt, I tried not to let too much sunshine come into the shadows of my heart as he rambled on and on, making me familiar with his parents, his aunts and uncles and cousins, until we came to the riverbank where we'd sat for so many hours a long time ago. Here time had stood still. Logan and I could have been the same adolescents falling in love for the first time. We sat again, perhaps in the very same place, so close our shoulders brushed, his thigh next to mine. I stared at the water that rippled over the stones. And only then did I begin the most difficult story of my life. I knew he'd hate me when it was over.

“My granny used to say my real mother came to that spring over there,” I said, pointing to the water that jetted from a crack in the rock face, “and she'd fill our old oak bucket with the spring water since she thought the well water wasn't as good for drinking, or for making soup, or for the dyes Granny used to make to color old stockings she'd braid into a rug to fit under a cradle and keep out the drafts. She was fixing up the cabin as best she could for my birth . . .”

He sprawled on the grass at my side, playing

idly with long tendrils of my hair. It was romantic sitting there with Logan, as if we were both brand- new, and nobody had ever loved before but us. I could see us in my mind's eye, young and fresh, unwrinkled and bright, in the prime flowering of our livesbut other bees had already flown to me. . . . He played with my hands, first one, then the other, kissing my fingertips and palms before he folded my fingers on the kiss gifts he'd put in my hands. “For all the days when I wanted you so much, and you were gone.” He pulled me down so my upper half lay on his chest, and my hair was a dark shawl that tented both our faces as we kissed, and then I lay with my cheek on his chest, his arms enfolding me. If only I were what he thought I was, then I could really enjoy this. I felt like a dying person on the last picnic of my life; the sun in all its glory couldn't keep the rain from my conscience.