Gates of Paradise (Casteel 4)

I couldn't stop thinking about what he had seen and what he had done.

"Oh, Drake, you were the only one of us who was ever there and now you've been back and will go again," I whined like a jealous little girl. I couldn't help it.

"You'll be there, too, through me," Drake promised, his voice softer, kinder, "and it won't be any fantasy game. Talk to you soon. Bye."

I couldn't wait for our lunch break the following day at school, so I could tell Luke all about Drake's phone call. I never expected him to be as excited as I was, because he didn't have family roots at Farthy and wasn't as concerned about the ancestors and the mysteries surrounding my mother's past, but he usually got involved because of our fantasies. He sat munching on his sandwich listlessly and listened, but I could see he was terribly distracted and troubled. Unlike his usual self, he refused to talk when I questioned him. I thought about him all the rest of the school day, and after it ended, asked him to walk me home, just so I could question him some more.

It was one of those late spring days that was more like the peak of summer, w

ith puffy, fat white clouds sliding lazily across the turquoise sky. As Luke and I walked along, we heard the clink and clank of ice in pitchers of lemonade. Elderly people sat out on their porches and stared out curiously. Once in a while we could hear someone say something like, "That's the Stonewall girl," or "Ain't that a Casteel?"

I hated the way they pronounced "Casteel," making it sound like a curse word, like a family less than human. I knew much of why people saw the Casteels the way they did was because of my aunt Fanny's behavior over the years, and the fact that the Casteels were people from the Willies, mountain people who were not as educated and had a fraction of the wealth town people had. Town people were disdainful of the way Willies people dressed and lived, and a lot of that was understandable, but why couldn't they see how wonderful Luke was and how much he had overcome? He was right. "Go for the tall ones!"

I especially loved this walk home from school in spring because the streets were lined with flowering trees and shrubs, lawns were fresh and kelly green, tulips, irises and azaleas were blossoming, walkways and patios were scrubbed clean. Starlings sat like sentinels on telephone lines, watching the traffic of cars and people below. Robins, perched on branches, peaked out with curious eyes between cool, rich green leaves. Only an occasional hummingbird flew nearby. They seemed to have endless energy no matter how hot it was. The world looked fresh and alive.

For most of the walk home, Luke was closedlipped and walked with his head down. When I stopped at the entrance to the walk of Hasbrouck House, I could see he was unaware we had arrived.

"Do you want to sit in the gazebo for a while?" I asked hopefully, for I wanted to keep him with me until he told me exactly what was bothering him.

"No, I'd better get home," he said, his voice filled with melancholy.

"Luke Toby Casteel!" I finally exclaimed, my hands on my hips. "You and I are not in the habit of keeping secrets from one another, even if they are painful ones."

He stared at me a moment, looking as if he had suddenly woken up and realized I was there. Then he shifted his eyes away.

"I was accepted to Harvard yesterday on a fully paid, tuition scholarship," he said with a surprising absence of feeling and excitement.

"Oh, Luke, how wonderful!"

He put his hand up to indicate that wasn't all he was going to say about it, and then looked down again and gathered his strength to continue as I waited with a lump in my throat.

"I never even told my mother I had applied to Harvard. Every time I used to mention it, she would go into one of her tirades about the blue bloods and this ungrateful family that thinks it's so much better than her. She would rant and rave about Uncle Keith and Aunt Jane and how they won't ever call her or write her or acknowledge her existence. It bothers her that she was never invited to Farthinggale, not even to your parents' wedding reception. In her mind she links it all together: Harvard, the Tattertons, wealth, and those she calls "Bean Town Snobs."

"But Luke, that's so unfair to you," I consoled him. He nodded.

"Anyway," he continued, "I didn't tell her about my application. Yesterday the acceptance announcing the scholarship came in the mail and she opened it. Then she got drunk and ripped it up. I found the pieces on the floor in my room."

"Oh, Luke, I'm sorry." I cringed just thinking what it must have been like for him to walk into his room and discover such an important piece of mail scattered all over the floor.

"That's all right. Her ripping it up won't stop me from going. It was the ugly things she said while she was in one of her drunken states."

Without his having to tell me, I knew what direction her ugly words had taken.

"About my father?" He nodded. I took a deep breath to prepare myself. "You might as well tell me." I closed my eyes and winced at the anticipated ugliness.

"I won't tell you all of it because some of it was so vicious and hateful, I don't want to remember it myself, much less repeat it to you. The worst part was when she accused me of being more like Logan than her, being more loyal to his goody-two-shoes side of the family than to her, but really, Annie, your parents treat me better than she does. She's hardly ever home to make dinner, but she hates me for spending so much time at your house!"

"Oh, she doesn't hate you, Luke."

"She hates half of me, the Stonewall half, so she gets drunk and runs off with one of her young boyfriends and then chastises me because I don't like her when she's drunk and with them!"

"I'm sorry, Luke, but soon you'll be going off to college and you'll be away from all this," I promised, even though I hated the thought that he and I would be separated.

"The thing is, I don't hate her, Annie. I hate what she does to herself sometimes, and I feel sorry for her and the life she's had. So I worked hard and did well and made it possible for her to be proud and walk with her head high, not that she wouldn't anyway," he added. I smiled. Aunt Fanny wouldn't hesitate to flaunt any of her success to anyone in Winnerrow. "But instead of being happy I was accepted to Harvard on a full scholarship, she accuses me of deserting her."

"She will change her mind," I assured him. Poor Luke, I thought. He had worked so hard to make us all proud of him and his mother had torn that pride into pieces and left it lying like garbage on the floor. How his heart must have broken. I wanted to comfort him, to soothe his mental anguish, to hold him in my arms and help him to feel content and happy once again. I could do it, if only . . . if only there wasn't so much preventing me.

"I don't know. Anyway, I'm not looking forward to her birthday party. She has invited every man who's taken her out and some of her low-class friends, just so she could rub it into the family." He shook his head. "It's not going to be nice or any fun for us."