Dark Angel (Casteel 2)

Apparently Jillian liked what she was seeing in his eyes. She forgot about my germs and turned to him. Appearing to glide, she entered the embrace he offered, and tenderly she reached to cup his face between her gloved hands. "Oh, darling, where does the time go? It seems you and I see so little of one another. Every time I want you lately, you're not here. Soon Christmas will be making demands on us, and already- I'm tired of winter, and planning parties." Her hands slipped from his face and she was embracing him around the waist. "I love you so much, darling, and want you all to myself. Wouldn't it be wonderful to have another honeymoon? Please do try and figure out a way for us to escape the tedium and misery of staying in this hatefully cold house until January." She kissed him twice, and then went on very softly, "Troy can take care of the business end, can't he? You are always raving about his genius for hard work, so give him his chance to prove himself."

It was strange how my heartbeats quickened when she mentioned Troy's name, and at the same time I wanted to scream out my protest. They had to stay! They couldn't leave me here alone, to spend the holidays in some strange school, with students I didn't even know!

And all of what she was doing to Tony brought back Kitty, who had known exactly how to wrap her husband Cal around her fingers! Were all men so acutely tuned to their sexual lives that they lost control of common sense when a beautiful woman flattered them? Oh, it was true, Tony didn't seem like the same man who had templed his fingers under his chin only moments ago. He was studying her with soft intensity, and in some subtle, mysterious way she'd managed to gather his reins, and now she was in control. It scared me, that easy way she had of getting what she wanted from him. "I'll see what can be done," he said idly, plucking from the shoulder of her suit a long, blond hair. Very carefully he dangled it over a wastebasket before he let it fall. And in this small act, I realized no woman would ever control Tony--he'd just allow them to think they did.

He pulled gently away from her hands, which clung to his lapels. "Heaven and I plan to finish our school clothes shopping this afternoon. It would be very pleasant if you came along with us, and we could make a day of it, dinner tonight and then the theater or a movie . . ."

"Ohhh," she murmured, her eyes pelting when they met his, "I don't know . . ."

"Certainly you know," he said. "Your friends can do without you. After all, you've known them for years, and Heaven is yet a secret to unfold."

Instant mortification was Jillian's. Her blue eyes swung to me, as if I'd completely faded from her memory. "Oh dear, I've been neglecting you, haven't I? Why didn't one of you tell me in time? I'd really love to go shopping with you and Tony, but I thought you'd finished, and I made my plans. Now it's too late to cancel. And if I don't show up at my bridge club those catty women will rip me to shreds, and they can't do that when I'm there." She started to come closer and kiss me, but just in time she remembered my coughs. She froze and for a second seemed puzzled by something. My long mass of hair, which was difficult to control, drew her critical attention. "You could use a good hairstylist," she murmured absently, bowing her head to delve deep into her purse. She came up with a small card. "Here, love, is just the man you need. He's a genius with hair. Mario is the only person I allow to touch mine." She glanced in a wall mirror, raising her hand to touch her hair lightly. "Never go to a woman stylist; men are so much more appreciative of a woman's beauty and seem to know just what to do to enhance it"

I thought of Kitty Dennison, who had owned and managed a beauty salon. Kitty had considered herself the best anywhere, and in my poor opinion, she had been very skilled. However, Kitty's strong, auburn hair seemed coarse as a horse's tail compared to Jillian's silken tresses.

Smiling, Jillian threw Tony another kiss before she floated through the door, humming that same mindless tune that showed she was happy.

Shadows deep and dark were in Tony's eyes as he sauntered to a. window to watch her drive off with Miles, the good-looking young chauffeur.

While his back was still toward me, he began: "One of the things I like best about winter is the snow, and skiing. I was thinking when the season was on, I could teach you how to ski, and I'd have a companion.

Jillian doesn't care for strenuous exercise that could break her bones and give her pain. Troy likes to ski, but he's always occupied with his own comings and goings."

I waited with bated breath for him to say more. He dropped the subject of Troy and went back to Jillian. "Jillian disappointed me in her lack of enthusiasm for anything out of doors. When I first met her, she used to pretend to like golf and tennis, swimming and football. She'd wear the cutest little tennis dresses, although she's never had a racket in her hand, and wouldn't dream of chasing a ball and making herself sweaty."

At that particular moment the vision of Jillian in her black suit was so luminous I couldn't blame her for not wanting to spoil her frail perfection, which certainly couldn't last forever. I wouldn't doubt, or fear, I'd just cling to the dream that had to come true . . . and if I believed hard enough, one day Jillian would really look at me, and her eyes would really smile to say she'd forgiven me for ending the life of my mother . . .

Two weeks after I arrived in Boston I was enrolled in Winterhaven. I had not seen Troy again, but I was thinking of him when Tony opened the car door for me and broadly motioned toward the elegant school that was Winterhaven, nestled snug in its own small campus of bare winter trees with evergreens relieving the bleakness. The main building was white clapboard, gleaming in the early afternoon sunshine. I had expected a stone building, one of brick, not this kind. "Tony," I exclaimed, "Winterhaven looks like a church!"

"Did I forget to mention it used to be a church?" he asked with laughter in his eyes. "The bells in the tower there will chime for each passing hour, and at twilight they play melodies. Sometimes it seems when the wind is right that those bells can be heard throughout Boston. Imagination, I presume."

I was impressed with Winterhaven, by the bell tower, the array of smaller buildings in the same style as the larger one. "You will study English and literature in Beecham Hall," informed Tony, gesturing to the white building to the right of the main one. "All the buildings have names, and as you can see, the buildings form a half circle. I've heard there is an underground passageway that connects the five buildings--to use on the days when snow makes walking diffic

ult. You'll be staying in the main building that houses the dorms and the dining rooms, and the assemblies are held there as well. When we enter, every girl there will look you over and form her opinion, so hold your head high. Don't give them any idea that you feel vulnerable or inadequate or intimidated. The VanVoreen family dates back to Plymouth Rock."

By this time I knew VanVoreen was a Dutch name, an ancient and honorable one . . . but I'd never been a true VanVoreen, only a scumbag Casteel from West Virginia. My background dragged behind me, casting long shadows to darken all my future. All I had to do was make one mistake and those girls with their "right" background would scorn me for what I was. And every inadequacy I'd ever felt was mine began to prickle my skin and heat my blood so I felt so anxious I was sweaty. I had on too many clothes, layers of new clothes, a blouse and a cashmere sweater over that, a wool skirt, and covering it all, a one-thousand-dollar cashmere coat! My hair had been newly styled, so it was shorter than I'd ever worn it, and the mirrors this morning had told me I looked very pretty. So why was I trembling?

The faces pressed to the windows, they had to be it! All those eyes staring out at me, watching the new girl on her first day. I saw Tony glance at me before he left the car to come around and open my door. "Now what's this I see? Come, Heaven, put your pride back on. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Just keep your cool and think before you speak, and you'll do fine."

But I felt conspicuous standing there and letting him haul all twelve pieces of my new set of luggage from the trunk and back seat, and turning, I began to help him.

"How did you explain this to Jillian?" I asked, using both hands to lift out my cosmetic case, which was full to the brim with things I'd never used before.

He smiled, as if Jillian were like a child to control. "It was really very simple. I told her last night I was going to do for you what she would have wanted me to do for her daughter, and she clamped her lips shut and turned away. Now don't take it for granted that everything will work out just because she's more or less resigned to having a granddaughter who calls herself a niece. You still need to win her over. And when you win acceptance in this school, and with her friends, she'll want you to stay, forever stay--as you so poetically put it."

How odd it felt to be standing before the second step of my dream, realizing my first step was not yet completed. My own grandmother didn't truly want me. She felt trapped because I'd come to remind her of what she didn't want to know . . but one day she'd love me. I was going to see to that. One day she was going to thank God I'd made being with her one of my lifelong goals.

"Come, Heaven," called Tony, breaking into my thoughts, as a man from the school came out to collect my luggage and wheel it away on a cart. "Let's go inside and face the dragons. We all have dragons to slay throughout most of our lives; most of them we create in our imaginations." He caught my hand in his gloved one and pulled me along toward the steep steps. "You look beautiful, did I tell you that? Your new hairstyle is quite becoming, and Heaven Leigh Casteel is a very beautiful girl. I suspect, also, you are a very smart girl. Don't disappoint me."

He gave me confidence. His smile gave me strength to climb those steps as if all my life I'd attended private, ritzy schools. Once I was inside the main building, and I looked around, I shivered. I had expected something like a posh hotel lobby, and what I saw was very austere. It was very clean, with highly waxed hardwood floors. The walls were off-white, and the moldings were elaborate and darkly stained. Potted ferns and other household plants were scattered here and there on tables and beside straight-backed, hard-looking chairs to relieve the starkness of the white walls. From the foyer I could see a reception room that was a bit cozier, with its fireplace and carefully arranged chintz-covered sofas and chairs.

Soon Tony was leading me to the office of the headmistress, a stout, affable woman who shone on both of us a wide, warm smile. "Welcome to Winterhaven, Miss Casteel. What an honor and privilege it is to have the granddaughter of Cleave VanVoreen attending our school." She winked at Tony in a conspiratorial way. "Don't worry, dear, I'll keep your identity secret, and not tell a soul about who you really are. I just have to say your grandfather was a fine man. A gift to all of us who knew him." And in her motherly arms I was hugged briefly before she put me from her and looked me over. "I met your mother once when Mr. VanVoreen brought her here and enrolled her. I'm very sorry she's with us no longer."

"Now let's proceed with the next step," urged Tony, glancing at his watch. "I have an appointment in half an hour, and I want to see Heaven to her room."

It felt good to have him at my side as we ascended the steep stairs, our footfalls cushioned by a dark green carpet runner. The stern and forbidding faces of former teachers lined the wall, drawing my astonished eyes from time to time. How cold they all looked, how Puritan . . . and how alike their eyes, as if they could see, even now, all the evil in everyone that passed.

Behind us, in fact all around us, the faint and smothered giggles of many girls drifted. Yet when I looked behind me, I could see no one. "Here we are!" called Helen Mallory brightly, flinging open the door to a lovely room. "The best room in the school, Miss Casteel. Selected for you by your 'uncle.' I want you to know very few of our students can afford a private room, or even want a private room, but Mr. Tatterton insisted. Most parents think young girls don't want privacy from their peers, but apparently you do."