"Why? You think you can teach him as well as I can?"
"I don't know for certain, but I think I can. My son may not choose to be a dancer," I continued, ignoring her hard stony eyes. "If he does decide one day, I think I will make an able teacher--as good as any.
"If he choose to dance!" Words like cannonshot. "What other choice does Julian's son have but to dance? It is in his bones, in his brain--and most of all in his blood and in his heart! He dances--or he dies!"
I got up to leave. It was in my heart to be kind to her, to let her share in Jory's life . . . but the meanness in her hard eyes changed my mind. She would take my son and make of him what she'd made of Julian, someone who could never find fulfillment because life offered to him but one choice.
"I didn't expect to say this today, Madame, but you force me. You made Julian believe if he couldn't dance, then life held nothing. He would have recovered from that broken neck and his internal injuries, except you said he would never dance again--and he overheard you. He wasn't sleeping. So, he chose to die! The very fact that he could move the arm that wasn't strapped down, enough to steal the scissors from that nurse's pocket, proved he was already recovering but all he could see was a bleak desert where the ballet didn't exist! Well, Madame . . . you are not doing that to my son! My son will have the chance to choose for himself what kind of life he wants--and I hope to God it is not the ballet!"
"You fool!" she spat at me, jumping up to pace back and forth in front of her old, beat-up desk, "there is nothing better than adulation from your fans, the sound of thundering applause, the feel of roses in your arms! And soon enough you will find that out for yourself! You think to take my husband's grandson away, and hide him from the stage? Jory will dance, and before I die I will live to see him on stage--doing what he must--or he too will die!
"You wanna play 'mommy," " she sneered, curling her lip scornfully, "and `wifey' to that big handsome doctor too, perhaps? And make another child for him, yah? Well . . . to hell with you, Catherine, if that is all you want out of life." She broke then, and sobs came from deep down in her depths, to make her voice when she spoke again harsh and husky, when before it had been high and shrill. "Yess, go on . . . marry that big doctor you've had a yen for since you came starry-eyed and fresh faced as a kid to me--and ruin his life too!"
"Ruin his life too?" I repeated dully.
She spun about. "You got something eating at you, Catherine! Something gnawing at your guts. Something so bitter it simmers in your eyes and grits your teeth together! I know your kind. You ruin everyone who touches your life and God help the next man who loves you as much as my son did!"
Unexpectedly, some enigmatic, invisible cloak dropped down to wrap me in my mother's cool, detached poise. Never before had I felt so
untouchable. "Thank you for enlightening me, Madame. Good-bye and good luck. You won't be seeing me again, or Jory. " I turned and left. Left for good.
Tuesday night Bart Winslow showed up at my cottage door. He was dressed in his best, and I was wearing blue; he smiled, pleased I'd obeyed. He took me to a Chinese restaurant where we ate with chopsticks, and everything was black or red.
"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, with the exception of my wife," he said while I read my fortune cookie slip. "Beware of impulsive actions."
"Most men don't mention their wives when they take another woman out--"
He interrupted: "I am not an ordinary man. I'm just letting you know, you are not the most beautiful woman I know."
I smiled at him sweetly, closely watching his eyes. I saw I irritated him, charmed him, but most of all intrigued him, and when we danced, I also learned I excited him "What is beauty without brains'?" I asked, my lips brushing his ear as I stood on tiptoes. "What is beauty that is growing old, and overweight, and no challenge at all?"
"You are the damndest female I've ever known!" His dark eyes flashed. "How dare you imply my wife is stupid, old and fat? She looks very young for her age!"
"So do you," I said with a small mocking laugh. His face reddened. "But don't worry, Mr. Attorney. . . I'm not competing with her--I don't want a pet poodle."
"Lady," he said coldly, "you won't have one, not in me. I'm leaving soon to set up my offices in Virginia. My wife's mother isn't well and needs some attendants. As soon as you've settled your account with me, you can say good-bye to a man who obviously brings out the worst in you."
"You haven't mentioned your fee."
"I haven't decided yet."
Now I knew where I was going--back to Virginia to live somewhere near Foxworth Hall.
Now I could begin the real revenge.
"But Cathy," wailed Carrie tearfully, very upset because we were leaving Paul and Henny. "I don't want to leave! I love Dr. Paul and Henny! You go anywhere you want to, but leave me here! Can't you see Dr. Paul doesn't want us to go? Don't you care when you hurt him9 You're always hurting him! I don't want to!"
"I care very much about Dr. Paul, Carrie, and I don't want to hurt him However, there are certain things I must do, and I must do now. And Carrie, you belong with me and Jory. Paul ne
eds his chance to find a wife without so many dependents. Don't you see, we are an encumbrance to him9"
She backed off and glared at me. "Cathy, he wants you for his wife!"
"He hasn't said so in a long, long time."
"That's because you got your mind set on going and doing something else. He told me he wants you to have what you want. He loves you too much. If I were him, I'd make you stay, and wouldn't care what you wanted!" She sobbed then, and ran from me to slam her bedroom door.
I went to Paul and told him where I was going and why. His happy expression turned sad, and then his eyes went vague. "Yes, I suspected all along you would feel it necessary to go back there and confront your mother face to face. I've seen you making your plans and I hoped you'd ask me to go with you."