Dark Angel (Casteel 2)

And he could have said he'd be happy to fill at least one seat in the auditorium, but he didn't volunteer! He didn't like public places and

ceremonies.

Miles drove me to Winterhaven the Friday of my graduation, and the girls flocked to stare at the new Rolls-Royce that Tony had given to Jillian for her sixty-first birthday. A beautiful white one with a cream-colored top, and a cream interior. "Yours?" asked Pru Carraway, her pale eyes wide and impressed.

"Mine to use until my aunt Jillian is home again."

Frenzy ruled that early morning when I entered Winterhaven. Girls ran about in various stages of undress, some with their hair still in curlers; not many of them lived within driving distance of home as I did. I felt resentful and slightly bitter as I watched other graduates introducing their family. Was this the way it was always going to be, my hill family thousands of miles away, present to me only in my thoughts, and my Boston family finding any excuse not to be present at my small victories? It was Jillian, of course, that I blamed.

Easily my grandmother could inundate me with her generosity, but when it came to giving me a little of herself, and her time, I could have starved. And Troy could sometimes be so absentminded after he started on a new project that dominated his thoughts. Oh, I was self-pitying that day as I put on my lovely white silk dress with wide bands of Cluny lace rimming the full skirt and puffed sleeves. The very kind of frock that Miss Marianne Deale had once told me she'd worn on her high school graduation day, and at the time she'd described it, I had mentally recovered every detail, thinking that Logan would be there to admire me.

As we forty girls lined up in an antechamber, donning our black robes and mortarboards, through the broad door that opened and closed constantly, I glimpsed the crowded auditorium flooded with bright June sunlight. It was like a dream coming true for me, after having feared so long this day would never happen, and tears wanted to flood my eyes and streak my face. Oh, I hoped Tom had told Pa about this day! If only I weren't alone . .

Some of the graduating girls had ten and more relatives in the audience, the youngest ready to stomp their feet, applaud wildly, and whistle (considered in bad taste even in Winnerrow), and there would be no one to clap for me. Lunch was going to be served on the lawn under bright yellow- and white-striped umbrellas. Who would sit at my table? If I had to eat at my reserved table all by myself, I'd die again of humiliation . . . but I'd slip away unseen, and cry alone.

The coordinating director of this event gave her signal, and I, like the others, squared my shoulders, lifted my head, and with my eyes straight ahead, began the slow and measured step that would take us to our seats. In single file we paraded. I was eighth from the front girl, since we

were arranged alphabetically. I saw only a blur of faces turning, none familiar, all looking for their graduate. And if he hadn't half stood, perhaps my glazed eyes would have moved right over Troy. As it was, my heart jumped in the overwhelming appreciation of his not forgetting, for caring enough.

I knew he hated social affairs like this. He wanted the Boston World in general to think he was off in some remote area of the world, and yet, he'd come. When finally my name was called, and I stood to make my way to the podium, it was not just Troy who rose to his feet, but an entire row of men, women, and children stood to applaud!

Later, when all the graduates were seated under bright awnings with the sun and shade making it both warm and cool, and utterly beautiful, I felt a rush of happiness such as I'd seldom known before, because Troy had come and had asked several of Tatterton Toy Company officers and their families to show up as my family. They wore such "right" clothes that the girls stared at my "hillbilly" relatives, mouths agape, eyes disbelieving.

"Please don't thank me again," said Troy when he was driving us both home late that night, after the school dance was over, and all the girls had envied me with my handsome "older man," who was also very admired and considered a real catch. "Did you really think I wouldn't come?" he admonished. "It was little enough I could do." He chuckled before he added, "I never knew a girl who needed a family more than you, so I wanted to give you a huge one. And by the way, they are all family in a way, aren't they? Some of them have grown old working for the Tattertons. They were delighted to come, couldn't you tell?"

Yes, they had been delighted to meet me. Suddenly shy, I sat silently, very happy and yet deeply disturbed by what I was feeling. I had to admit to myself that I was falling in love with Troy. Was it right that dancing with Troy seemed ten times more exciting than it had when Logan had taught me to dance? I stole a glance at his profile, and wondered what he was thinking.

"By the way," he said still alert and watching traffic, "the detective agency my attorneys hired to find your younger brother and sister think they have a clue. They've been searching to find a Washington lawyer with the first name of Lester. There are at least ten Lesters, and forty L initials within the confines of D. C., and twenty or more in Baltimore. They are also checking out the R his wife uses . . . so perhaps it won't be too long before we can find your brother and sister."

My breath came faster. Oh, to hold Our Jane again! To hug and kiss Keith! To see them before they forgot all about their sister "Hev-lee." But were they the real reason I was tingling all over? Despite myself, I moved closer to Troy so my thigh pressed against his, and his shoulder brushed mine. He seemed to stiffen before he grew silent, and then we turned off the expressway onto the road I'd first traveled with Jillian and Tony. A silver ribbon road, twisting and winding toward the high, arched black gates. Home to me now, this road and the huge house that was hidden from view until you were almost upon it.

I heard the roar of the sea, the pounding of the surf, smelled the salty brine, and with each minute, the richness of this night deepened.

"Oh, let's not say good night just because it is after one," I said, catching hold of Troy's hand when we were out of his car. "Let's walk in the gardens and talk."

Perhaps the warm, velvety night held some charm for him as well, for agreeably enough he linked my hand through the crook of his elbow. The stars seemed close enough to touch. Intoxicating perfume filled my nostrils and made me giddy. "What is it that smells so sweet?"

"The lilacs. It's summer, Heavenly, or almost."

Heavenly, he'd called me that again, just as Tom did. No one had called me that since I'd first come here almost a year ago now.

"Did you know today, after lunch, the girls were friendlier to me than ever before? Of course they wanted me to introduce you to them . and I wouldn't do it. But I would like to know how you've managed to stay so uninvolved with the opposite sex."

He chuckled and ducked his head shyly. "I am not gay, if that's what you want to know."

I flushed with embarrassment. "I never thought you were! But most men your age date as often as they can, if they are not already engaged or married."

Again he laughed. "I won't be twenty-four for another few months," he said lightly, "and Tony has always advised me not to rush into any commitment before I'm thirty. And, Heavenly, I've had some experience in dodging girls with matrimony in mind."

"What do you have against marriage?"

"Nothing. It's an old and honorable institution, meant for other men, not for me." And the cold, abstract way he said that forced my hand from his arm. Was he warning me to stay only a friend, become nothing more? Was it possible that no man ever was going to give me the kind of love and warmth I longed for?

And all the magic of this perfect summer night evaporated; the stars seemed to shrink away, and dark clouds slid from behind silvery ones and chased away the moon.

"It feels like rain now," said Troy, looking upward. "I used to feel when I was a child that all my expectations for happiness ahead were drowned before they even had a chance to bloom. It's very difficult to feel stepped on time after time, until finally you have to accept what can't be changed."

What did he mean? He had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth! What did he know about the kind of despair that had been mine?