I laughed and thought how I wished I could create a happy family in this small cottage. I would give up all the big rooms and glamorous things.
"And what will you do besides make the fire?" He shrugged. "Eat the supper."
"Is that all?"
"I don't know. What else should I do? What else does a daddy do?"
Poor Troy, I thought, he never really had a chance to know his father and know how important a daddy was. I pulled the rocker up close to our small fire. Troy came to me and I sat him in my lap.
"A daddy makes you feel safe and secure; he gives you just as much love as a mommy, and if you're a little boy like you, he plays ball with you or teaches you things and takes you places," I told him.
"What if you're a little girl?"
"He makes you into his little princess and buys you things and makes you feel special because he loves you so much."
"And does Daddy love Mommy and Mommy love Daddy?"
"Oh yes, very much. For them, there are no people who are more important in the whole world. Because love brings them together, you see, and love is . . . love is . ." I couldn't go on. I found myself sobbing, shoulders shaking.
"What?" He looked up at me. "Leigh, why are you crying?"
"I cry sometimes when I think about my daddy."
"Why? 'Cause he's not here?"
"Uh-huh." I sniffled several times, trying to stop crying. "I'll be your daddy when he's not here, okay?"
"Oh Troy." I hugged him to me. "You're very precious and sweet, but I'm afraid you can't because . . oh no."
"What?"
"Look at how hard it's snowing," I said pointing to the window. It was almost impossible to see the pine trees through the shower of heavy flakes. "We better get going." I lifted him to the floor. "Come, quickly."
I took his hand and we left the cottage. It seemed like nearly an inch of snow had fallen over the flagstone already. I hurried him down the path and to the maze, rushing into it, the snow blinding me with its fury. We stepped quickly to the first right angle and turned and then started down the next corridor of hedges and turned and then . . . I stopped.
"Oh no," I said looking at the fork in the path ahead of us, one corridor going to the left, the other to the right.
"What's the matter?" Troy asked.
"Our footsteps! They're gone! The new snow has covered them already, and I can't remember if we came from the right side or left side here."
"It's all right," Troy said bravely. "We'll find our way." He started down the corridor and turned back. "Come on," he beckoned.
"I don't know. I'm afraid," I said, hesitant. Troy looked at the path ahead. The snow was falling so fast it was hard to see where the turn was anyway. "What will we do?" I asked myself. I thought about going back to the cottage, but the snow might continue for a long time and no one knew we had come through the maze. Reluctantly, I plodded forward, took Troy's hand, and made my first guess. Then I made another and another and another. The snow never slowed for a moment and soon, all the turns and all the corridors looked alike. When I made another turn and came upon our freshly made footsteps, I realized we had just gone around in a circle.
"We're lost," I cried. Troy began to sob. "Don't cry, Troy. Someone will help us. We'll get out soon." I lifted him and started down another corridor, the flakes of snow sticking to my cheeks and forehead. My feet were very cold; I wasn't prepared for a trek through deep snow. Little Troy clung to me and I clung to him.
And like two orphans cast out in an unforgiving storm, we searched for a sign of home.
eight LIES LIES, LIES
. I heard the shouts and shouted back at the top of my voice, straining my vocal cords until my throat ached. There was another shout and another. I recognized Tony's voice and then I heard him scream some commands. Suddenly, a stout, elderly man appeared through the snow showers in front of us and little Troy exclaimed, "Boris!"
The kindly and concerned gardener hurried to us. "Are ye all right, Miss?"
"Yes, just . . . cold, very . . . cold," I said, shivering.
"Naturally. Here, let me take Master Tatterton," he offered and Troy went eagerly into his arms. "Just follow me, Miss. Stay close behind," Boris advised. He didn't have to tell me twice. I practically clung to the back of his coat as he led us on and out of the maze. Tony and Miles were waiting at the entrance.