Web of Dreams (Casteel 5)

"No, I won't," he said with a frighteningly assured and mature expression. His eyes were as sharp and as cold as Tony's could be at times. "I'll never get better and I won't live as long as everyone's supposed to live," he added firmly.

"Troy! You must not say such things. That's a terrible thing to say," I chided.

"I know it's true. I heard the doctor say it to the nurse." "What did he say?" I demanded, outraged that a doctor would utter such comments in his presence.

"He said I was as delicate as a flower, and just as a flower would snap in a harsh wind, I would snap if I ever became seriously ill."

I stared at him a moment. In a strange way his sicknesses had matured and aged him. Right now he appeared to be an old man in a child's body, his eyes had that much wisdom and experience in them. It was as if the months were ticking away like days and the days like hours for him. Perhaps his wisdom gave him a window on the future and he did see his own early death. I shuddered with the thought.

"Troy, he just meant that if you didn't improve, you would be sickly, but you're going to improve. You're just a little boy. You have plenty of time to grow stronger and stronger. Besides, if you died, who would be my little stepbrother?"

His eyes lit up with that.

"You will always want me to be your little stepbrother?"

"Of course."

"And you will never leave me here by myself?" he asked with Tony's skepticism.

"Where would I go? This is my home now, just as it is yours."

His smile washed out the melancholy shadow that had clung to his face. I seized his wrist gently and brought him to me for a quick hug. The tears that gathered in the corners of my eyes started a slow trickle down my cheeks. When he pulled back and saw them, he looked surprised.

"Why are you crying, Leigh?"

"I'm just . . . happy you will be my little brother forever and ever, Troy," I said. His face became resplendent and he glowed with happiness. I thought he grew stronger, healthier, right before my eyes.

All he really needed, I thought, was someone to love and to cherish him, someone to make him feel wanted. Tony loved him very much, I was sure, but Tony was so involved in all his business activities, he couldn't be the father Troy needed; and my mother . . . she was so involved with herself and so put off by Tray's illnesses, she didn't even see him. I could imagine that when she looked at him, she looked right through him; and Troy, being the sensitive little boy he was, surely felt invisible and alone because of all that. It dawned on me that he really had only t e now.

In some ways I felt just like him. There were so many tit es now when my mother looked right through me, had her mind on her own activities and concerns. And my father was preoccupied with a new love. Troy and I were two orphans thrown together in this big house, surrounded by things other children and young people dreamed of having. rut things without love and someone to cherish, and to cherish you along with them, were really only things.

"Will you come into my suite later to read to me, Leigh?" he asked.

"After dinner. I promise."

"Okay. I've got to go see Tony," he said. "Don't forget," he added and ran out, his little legs wobbling as he charged out of my suite. It made me laugh, but it also made me sad.

I changed and dressed for dinner. Tony was already in the dining room when I came down.

"How are you, a little tired?" he asked.

"Yes, although I don't know why modeling should make me tired. I just stood there," I said.

"Don't underestimate what you're doing. It's work. You're concentrating too and don't forget, you were nervous today. That can tire you out. Tomorrow, you will be less nervous and as the days go by, it will get easier and easier."

"How much longer will it be, Tony?" I asked. He had said "as the days go-by."

"A while, I have to spend a lot of time on the actual painting. I want your skin tones perfect and your eyes and hair. And then, there is the actual sculpting. We can't rush this along," he said with a smile.

I didn't know what to say. It sounded as if he would spend the entire summer with me standing nude before him in the cottage. Would he have to touch me again and again? Could I ever really get used to that? And what about his other work . . . his business?

"But don't you have other things to do?"

"I have very competent help, and as I told you, this is one of the most important projects Tatterton Toys has ever undertaken," He patted my hand. "Don't worry, you'll have time of to do anything you want."

I nodded. How could I tell him what my real concerns were? Who could I tell? Where was my mother when I needed her? Where was my father?

After dinner, I went up to Troy's room to read to him, but his nurse greeted me outside his suite and told me he was already asleep.