But where was this family and who had done
all this? It was almost as if the house had a life of its
own, each of its rooms coming to life in its own way
when its time came. Was everything set on some
automatic switch, I wondered. At Christmas, the tree
spontaneously lit itself and the fireplace self-started.
As if the house were really toying with me, Christmas
music suddenly began playing through the speakers
built into the walls.
I laughed. I felt so silly all of a sudden. Was
there a mechanical Santa Claus set to come down that
chimney every Christmas Eve too? Curtis must have
been nearby and heard my laughter because he
suddenly appeared in the doorway with a look of
confusion on his face when he saw I was alone. "Is there anything I can get you, Miss Leigh?" Yes, I wanted to say. Get me my daddy and my
mommy. Get me the happiness we once knew. Put us in this warm room together, laughing and smiling, kissing and embracing each other with love and
tenderness. Make this a real Christmas for me. "No, Curtis. Not right now. Thank you." "Very good, Miss. Just ring if there is anything
you want" "Thank you."
He nodded softly and was gone. I looked at the
Christmas tree and the presents and then gazed up at
Momma's murals. My heart felt heavy and leaden and
my throat ached from holding in my sobs. I left the
room quickly and went up to my suite. I was so very
tired. I got into my nightgown and then crawled under
my covers in my new bed. After I put out the lamp at
the side of my bed, I looked through the sheer curtains
on one of my windows and saw the moon peeping
through a cloud. It drew me to the window.
I gazed out at the vast expanse that was
Farthinggale Manor. From here I could look down at
the long winding driveway. Tonight, because of the
melted snow, the driveway gleamed like a silver metal
ribbon. It was easier to be lonely in a place that was as
big and as rich as Farthy, I thought. My friends back
in Boston would never think so, but I couldn't
remember ever feeling as small and alone as I did
right this moment.
I looked up and saw the North Star, and I
recalled Daddy explaining how sailors depended on it
whenever they were lost. Could I depend on it? It
twinkled back down at me. Maybe somewhere Daddy
was looking up at it too. Maybe he threw me a kiss
and that kiss bounced off the North Star and came
back to me here at Farthy.
"Good night, Daddy," I whispered.
"Good night, Princess," I pretended I heard him
say.
And I crawled back into bed, and for the first
time in my life, I wasn't so anxious for Christmas
morning that I couldn't wait to fall asleep.
I felt myself being jolted awake and opened my
eyes to see Troy tugging on my hand.
"Wake up, Leigh. Wake up!"
"What?" I scrubbed my eyes with my fists and
gazed around. It would be a while before I was used
to waking up in such a big bedroom.
"It's Christmas. Come on. We've got to go
down and open our presents. Come on. Hurry." "Oh Troy," I groaned. "What time is it?" I
looked at my clock. It was just seven A.M.
"Hurry up," he pleaded.
"All right. Okay, Troy. Give me a few minutes. Girls take longer to get up than boys," I said, hoping
for a small reprieve.
"Why?" He swung his dark brown eyes
skeptically at me.
"Because they have to fix their hair and their
faces and look presentable. Actually, young men do
the same thing."
He thought for a moment and looked down at
himself still dressed in his pajamas, bathrobe and
slippers.
"Okay.I'll brush my hair and meet you here in
a few minutes!" he exclaimed and scurried off. I
laughed and got out of bed. I washed my face free of
sleep, and brushed my hair a little, knowing that
Momma would never leave her room looking like I
did. But Momma wasn't always right, I thought. More
than ever, I was thinking that now. I put on my robe
and found Troy waiting impatiently for me in my
sitting room. He seized my hand the moment I
appeared and led me downstairs. Then he attacked the
presents. Mrs. Hastings appeared behind me,
laughing.
"Merry Christmas," she said.
"Merry Christmas."
"I'll see about breakfast, if you'd like," she offered. "Thank you, Mrs. Hastings. Let's hope we can pry him away from the gifts long enough to eat," I added. I knelt down beside Troy and helped him
unwrap his presents first.
His biggest present was his own television set.
There was one in the den, but now he would have one
for his own room.
"I've got to get it up to my room," he said
excitedly.
"Wait. There's time for that, Troy. Look at the
other gifts first."
"Okay. And you look at yours, too. I gave you
something."
"Did you?" Momma and I had gone shopping
for Christmas presents and spent nearly all our time
trying to find something "right" for Tony, since he
had so much. She decided to get him a solid gold tie
clip with diamonds on the ends. Then she had "Love,
Jillian" inscribed on the back. I'd had trouble thinking
of anything good enough for Daddy. Mittens and silk
ties, expensive after-shave lotions, suede gloves, a
new pipe holder . . . nothing had the right meaning for
a Daddy that wouldn't open the gift with me there
beside him.
Then I saw something at one of the department stores that was not as expensive as other gifts I could get him, but filled my heart with pleasure and warmth when I thought of him unwrapping it and gazing at it. It was a special photograph to be taken next to a Christmas tree. On the bottom, the photographer embossed "Merry Christmas." And you could have your name embossed and the date, too. I bought a
handsome light pine frame for it as well.
When I posed for the picture, I smiled as
warmly and as lovingly as I could, for I knew it would
be the smile that Daddy would see forever and ever,
especially when he was lonely and wanted to think of
me. I had it wrapped and left it on Daddy's desk at our
Boston home so he would find it as soon as he
returned from his trip.
I decided to buy Troy an erector set, since he
was so good with his hands. It was a toy, but he could
do something creative with it too. It even had a little
electric motor, so if he made a tiny Ferris wheel, it
would actually turn. He was very excited about it
when he opened the package and saw it. To my
surprise, he knew exactly what it was. He got up
quickly and gave me a big hug and kiss.
"Thank you, Leigh. Now look at my present to
you," he said. "I made it myself and wrapped it
myself."
I opened the small package and couldn't believe
my eyes. He had made it? It was a little ceramic horse
with a girl rider. The girl could be taken off
's Sniffles," Troy explained. "My horse.
And that's you riding it."
"You made this?"
"Not the little girl," he confessed. "Tony had
that made at his factory, but I made Sniffles. I took a
picture of her and traced it and shaped it and baked it.
Then I painted it myself," he added proudly. "It's beautiful, Troy. It's one of the best
Christmas presents I have ever received. Thank you."
I kissed him on the cheek. His eyes twinkled and then
he went back to unwrapping his presents. What a
wonderfully talented little boy he was, I thought. How
could Momma not be charmed by him?
"You have other presents," Troy said pointing.
There were at least-a-dozen different brightly
wrapped boxes with my name on them, some from
Momma, some from Tony, but a small box caught my
eye first, because I saw the emblem of Daddy's ocean
liner company on the card's envelope.
Carefully, lifted the box and ran my fingers
lovingly over the top. Troy was impressed with the reverent way I treated it. He put down his next gift
and drew closer to me.
"What is it?" he asked in a whisper.
"A Christmas present from my daddy.
Somehow, he got one here."
"Why don't you open it?" Troy's eyes swung
from the small box to me and back to the box. "I will." Gingerly, taking great care not to tear
the paper, I unwrapped the present to find a small,
dark blue velvet box. I opened it and took out a heavy,
gold locket in the shape of a heart with a sparkling
gold chain. I pressed the release button and the locket
opened to a tiny picture of Daddy and me standing on
The Jillian. We both looked tanned and happy. I
remembered why I looked so happy. We were on the
way home and I thought I would find Momma waiting
for me at the dock.
"Can I see?" Troy asked. I held the locket out
and he plucked it carefully from my palm to gaze at
the picture. I saw his eyes widen and then grow small.
"I have a big picture of my daddy," he said. "But he's
not smiling. I told Tony and he said Daddy's smiling
in Heaven and he will always smile as long as I am
good."
"Then I'm sure he will always smile," I told him. I had him help me put on the locket and then we
returned to opening our gifts.
I spent Christmas Day helping Troy set up his
toys and put away his gifts of clothing. Late in the
afternoon, we watched some shows on his new
television set. We had a delicious turkey for
Christmas Day dinner, and Rye Whiskey prepared
vegetables with sauces I had never before tasted. Troy kept me so busy that I was grateful for the
reprieve when it came time for him to go to sleep. I
went to sleep early myself that night. I had promised
him that we would ride his pony in the morning,
which we did. In fact, there was so much to do at
Farthy--swimming in the indoor pool, cross-country
skiing, hiking to the ocean and back, horseback riding
and sleigh riding--that the first week passed quickly. Tony had an enormous library, and my favorite
book from his well-stocked shelves was Lolita, the
story of an older man's love affair with a twelve-yearold girl, a girl my age! I couldn't believe the things
she did and said. There were parts I reread and reread,
parts that made me blush and made my heartbeat
quicken. I kept the novel buried under the others so
the servants wouldn't know I had been reading it, just
in case any of them knew what it was about. I promised Troy we would spend New Year's
determined he would stay up until twelve o'clock and
watch the people celebrating in Times Square, in New
York City. He held out until almost eleven, but by
then, his eyes had shut and his little chest rose and fell
in quiet, rhythmic breathing.
A little after eleven-thirty, Daddy called from
Florida. He sounded small and faraway. The phone
line crackled.
"I loved your Christmas present, Daddy. Yours
is waiting for you on your desk at home."
"I'll be there next week, so I'll call you after I
open it," he said. "How are you?"
"I'm okay, Daddy, but I miss you," I said, my
voice nearly breaking.
"And I miss you, too. In a few weeks, come by
and we'll spend a day together in Boston."
"I'll be in school by then, Daddy. You'll have to
come to Winterhaven. But it's not far from here." I
told him about the different things I had been doing. "Sounds like quite a place," he said sadly. "I'd rather be home with you, Daddy." "I know, sweetheart. We will be together soon.
I promise. Well now, let me wish you a Happy New Year. I know this past year has not been a happy one,
but hopefully, the next one will."
"Happy New Year, Daddy. I love you." "And I love you, Princess. Good night." "Good night, Daddy."
I pressed the receiver against my chest after he
had hung up, pressed it so hard it hurt. I didn't cradle
it until I heard the television announcer begin to count
down: "Ten, nine, eight . . ." Troy moaned in his sleep
and then turned over on his side. "Seven, six, five . ." I saw that it had begun to snow again. The
snowflakes were large and pretty. They fell so softly,
some clinging to the window for a moment before
turning into tears and streaming down the pane. "Four, three, two . ."
I held my new locket up against my lips and
kissed it, telling myself I was kissing Daddy. One . .
HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!"
The camera caught so many different faces--
people cheering, people laughing, people screaming,
people crying. I wished I were there with them, lost in
a crowd of strangers.
Nearly half of the pages of my diary are written
upon now. It's a good place to wish myself a "Happy
New Year." Of course, for me it's more than a new
year; it's a new life.
Happy New Year, Leigh VanVoreen.
ten THE HONEYMOON'S OVER
. Troy awoke with a bad cold on New Year's Day, the day Momma and Tony were returning from their honeymoon. By eight o'clock in the morning, he was running a high fever and Mrs. Hastings had to send for the doctor. I knew he was very sick because he made no effort to get out of his bed to play. While the doctor examined him, I waited outside in the hallway. Afterward, I heard Mrs. Hastings and the doctor conferring in the outer chamber of Troy's suite. The doctor emerged from Troy's suite first, his eyes dark and the lines of his face cut deeply with worry and concern. Mrs. Hastings followed, her eyes wet with tears. She held her handkerchief against her mouth and shook her head at me.
"What is it? What's wrong with him?" I asked frantically.
"The doctor thinks he's developing pneumonia. Oh dear me, dear me. He's going to call for an ambulance. He wants him in the hospital for X rays and treatment right away. Mr. Tatterton warned me that Troy has so little resistance to germs, but he was doing so well and he was so happy and energetic, I didn't think I let him overdo it," she cried.
"Now Mrs. Hastings, this is not your fault. Whenever he showed the slightest signs of getting cold outside, we always brought him in, and except for las
t night, which is the most special night of the year, he always went to sleep early. And he's been eating well, too," I added. "He didn't get sick after he and I were lost in the maze. You did wonders to prevent that from happening then, remember?"
"Yes, yes. Still, I feel so bad. I'll be right back. I have to see to some of the arrangements. Mr. and Mrs. Tatterton won't be home until the middle of the afternoon, but the doctor says we can't wait for them." She shook her head with worry.
"Can I go in to see him?"
"Yes, but don't get too close to him. Oh dear, dear," she mumbled and hurried to the stairway.
Little Troy looked so much smaller in his large bed with the covers brought up to his chin. I had dolls with heads bigger than his head appeared to be against the large, fluffy white pillow. His small ears, his tiny nose, his closed eyes, which looked no bigger than marbles, and his petite mouth, slightly open because of his difficulty in breathing, did make him seem like a fragile toy.
His cheeks were scarlet from his fever and his lips looked a little puffy. His hands were cupped into tiny fists, but the rest of his body was buried under the enormous down comforter. I stood by the side of his bed watching him. I didn't want to wake him. Suddenly he started to mumble in his fevered sleep.
"Daddy wake up, wake up," he said. Then with his eyes still closed, he grimaced. "Tony . . . Tony." His face twisted in agony. I went to him and took his tiny, warm hand into mine.
"It's all right, Troy. It's all right. I'm here."
"Tony . . . I want Tony. . . ."
"It's Leigh, Troy. Do you want me to get you a drink of water?"
"Tony," he muttered and shook his head. Then he squeezed his eyes closed even tighter as if he were trying to deny a picture in his mind. I touched his flushed cheek and became shocked and frightened by how hot his skin really was. It made my heart pound. I looked expectantly at the doorway. Where was the doctor? How could they leave him alone like this, even for a moment?
He swung his head from side to side, moaning softly.
"Troy," I cried, tears coming into my eyes. "Oh, my God," I whispered. I flew out of the room to find Mrs. Hastings. She and the doctor were downstairs talking softly with Curtis and Miles.
"Doctor, he's burning up in his bed! And he's moaning like he's in pain!" I exclaimed. The doctor looked at me and then at Mrs. Hastings, wondering who I was. She whispered something quickly in his ear.
"Oh." He nodded and turned to me. "Yes, we know, my dear. We have just decided that we will not wait for an ambulance. We are going to take Troy to the hospital in the limousine immediately. Mrs. Hastings was just going up to prepare him for the trip."