I considered her and then made an instant decision, turning back to him. “I’m sorry you were upset when you saw my Christmas tree, Count Piro. I’ve finished it now, and I hope you’ll look at it again. It was a lot of work, and the electric trains are set up, too. I can show you how to work them,” I added forcefully, looked defiantly at Dorian, and walked out of the room.
Was I in bigger trouble now? Would my grandfather come rushing in to bawl me out? When I entered my room, I closed the door behind me and sprawled on my bed. I had so many different emotions battling to be acknowledged that I felt like I was in a tornado. Should I be ashamed of my relationship with Aaron Podwell? Had I made a fool of myself by believing in him so quickly? Should I be more angry than ashamed? Could I pretend to be indifferent, or would anyone look at me and see hurt in my face?
Was I wrong now not to feel guilty about caring for Count Piro? Was this a betrayal of Willie’s memory?
Could I stand having my grandfather be angry at me again? Was I losing everyone’s love?
Was it wrong to look forward to the holidays? Should I have refused to work on the tree? Should I have insisted that no one touch Willie’s trains and toy village? Was I pushing the memory of him farther and farther away? Would my parents hate me? Grandma Arnold?
Should I be crying or screaming?
I pounded the bed and then folded my arms under my breasts and stared defiantly at the ceiling, gathering up my fury and not only waiting for my grandfather to come to my room but hoping he would. I’d give it back as quickly as he dished it out. Rage seemed to be winning.
There was a knock on my door. I didn’t say anything. I pulled myself up against my pillows and waited. The door opened, and Dorian stood there, smiling.
“What now?” I snapped at her.
“You did it,” she said. “He wants to go down to see the tree and the trains.”
She turned and walked away, and the rage that had been flowing through my veins like boiling water instantly cooled. I rose slowly and went to the doorway. Dorian was wheeling Count Piro out and toward the stair lift. I stood watching until he was securely put into the lift and descending. Then I followed slowly.
Grandpa came out of his room, too, and followed behind me. When we reached the living room, Myra and My Faith came in from the kitchen to watch. Dorian wheeled him closer to the tree. She stopped and waited. Everyone’s eyes were on him as he looked at the tree. I think we were all holding our breath. The seconds ticked like a clock set to trigger an explosion. Suddenly, Grandpa shot forward and plugged in the tree lights. Myra and My Faith gasped in appreciation as the tree burst into its beautiful colors.
I stepped up and glanced at Count Piro. His eyes had widened when the tree was lit. I went over to the train control and turned it on. He was fascinated with its movements through the tunnels and up and down the small inclines, past the houses and the train depot to go around again. I nodded at Dorian, and she wheeled him closer. I put the control in his lap.
“Just make it go faster or slower with this little lever,” I explained. “You can also make it stop anytime you want.”
He touched it gingerly and then gently moved the lever to speed it up. His eyes were dazzling with glee. He slowed it down and then stopped it and looked at me.
“Very good,” I said.
He smiled and started the train again. Grandpa watched from behind, nodded at Dorian, and then turned and went back upstairs to finish dressing for dinner.
“Maybe we’ll stay downstairs and eat at the table tonight, right, William?” she asked him.
He looked at her and then at me. I nodded, and he nodded. He went back to the train, and Dorian exchanged a look of pleasure with me.
“I’ll stay with him for a while,” I told her. “Go get ready for dinner.”
“You sure?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
Myra was beaming, and My Faith was shaking her head with joy.
I sat by the train tracks and shifted some of the toy people about, talking about them and the village the way I used to with Willie, imagining their comments about Christmas and their businesses and families. He looked fascinated with everything, dividing his attention between me and the trains. About twenty minutes later, Dorian and my grandfather came down the stairs. He was in the shirt he had said he would wear, but there was something about the dress Dorian was wearing that looked familiar.
“Your dress,” I said to her, standing and looking at Grandpa.
He nodded. He didn’t have to say it. It was one of Grandma Arnold’s dresses.
I hurried out and up the stairs. It was as if the pages of a book about my family were being turned, and on every new page, a face was changed. I paused at Willie’s room and recalled the moment when I saw Grandpa Arnold gazing into it and contemplating bringing Count Piro to our home and into Willie’s room. The shock that I had felt seemed to have dwindled. I was thinking more of Count Piro than myself.
After all, his family book’s pages were turning as fast as mine were, and all the faces he knew were disappearing, too. Perhaps he and I were more like a brother and a sister than I would like us to be.
There was nothing left to do but wait to see how our stories ended.
19