Fallen Hearts by V. C. Andrews
I wanted it so much it made my blood boil. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw how red my cheeks had become. Anger and pain, hatred and despair were all the ingredients I mixed together in my mind like some witch's brew. I could practically taste the concoction on my lips.
I swallowed to prepare myself for the ordeal to come.
Just as Logan predicted, news of the custody hearing spread quickly through Winnerow and its surroundings. Because of the factory and the splash we had made with our opening, everything we did and everything that concerned us was headline news here. I remained sequestered in the Hasbrouck House, coming to life only whenever Camden Lakewood visited to prepare for the hearing. He brought a secretary along to take notes. We sat in Logan's office and I described and listed all the things I thought would work against Fanny. A list of witnesses was drawn up and Camden sent an investigator about to gather evidence.
Just like J. Arthur Steine, Camden Lakewood was a man who looked successful. He was a tall man in his fifties, lean and fit with sharp, clear blue eyes that fixed themselves so intently on the person to whom he was talking, you could almost see his mind at work-- scrutinizing, weighing facts and data, making conclusions.
He had what advertising executives would call a distinguished appearance, the man to be seen in a magazine ad promoting the sale of an expensive car or clothing. There was a firmness to his posture and an air of authority about him. I felt very confident that he was pleading my case.
Although some of the things I told him were ugly and unpleasant, he never expressed any disgust. It was as if he had heard it all before. His attitude helped me to relax, and before long I was able to tell him the hardest thing.
"Fanny's pregnant," I said. "And it appears virtually certain that my husband is the father of her child." My throat closed quickly after I uttered the words and tears came to my eyes. I had to look away to catch my breath. Mr. Lakewood's secretary looked up from her note pad and then looked down quickly. Camden got up and went out to fetch Mrs. Avery and ordered her to bring me a glass of water, which she did instantly.
"How damaging will this be?" I asked.
"When you say 'virtually certain,' how do you mean that?" he asked, making me more aware of the words I chose.
"Logan has admitted to sleeping with her." I described the incident just the way Logan had described it to me. Mr. Lakewood didn't change expression.
"In the worst scenario," he began, "it's a tradeoff. She came to him in the cabin, and from what we have learned, to put it mildly, Fanny sleeps around. First, stop all payments to her. We no longer agree that Logan is responsible for the pregnancy. We'll insist on blood tests when the baby is born. From what you're telling me, you're not going to make out much worse financially even if the blood tests prove Logan responsible.
"Since she's marrying Randall Wilcox now, and since it's common knowledge she has been with him for some time, be it on and off, we will develop the possibility that the child is his. In any case we'll depict Fanny as a very loose woman and that should work against her.
"Logan's indiscretion isn't helpful, by any means, but men stray. The judge, Bryon McKensie, is a man and will not rule against us simply on the basis of Logan's one night with Fanny Unfortunately, adultery is a great deal more common today, or at least, revealed more.
"That incident aside, it would seem clear to me that your household has a much more moral
atmosphere. However, Mrs. Stonewall, I'd be negligent not to tell you this is not going to be a pleasant affair. I've had some research done on this other attorney, Wendell Burton, and his methods and style appear to be . . . shall I say of questionable taste? You'll be on the stand and he'll have an opportunity to question you. I'll be there to raise objections, of course, but you must be prepared for the worst kind of courtroom antics and treatment"
"I'll be prepared," I said.
"And your husband?" he asked, his eyes narrowing for the first time. He had met Logan and had already sensed his fears.
"He'll be prepared, too," I said with added determination.
I know that I was only hoping that would be so, for as the hearing date approached, Logan became more and more nervous, and although I had had only a few short phone conversations with his mother about the situation since Fanny took Drake, I knew that Logan and his mother had been discussing it a great deal. The afternoon before the hearing was to begin, Loretta Stonewall came to the Hasbrouck House. I was reviewing my recollection of the events I had told Camden Lakewood so my testimony would be consistent.
Mrs. Avery came to the office door to announce Loretta's arrival.
"Show her in, please, Mrs. Avery, and please make us some tea."
It was a rather cold day. Temperatures had dropped dramatically the night before, making it one of those days Granny used to say were "too cold even fer snow." Loretta was wearing the long silver fox fur coat Logan had bought her for her birthday. She came sweeping into the room, looking flushed and excited, as if she had run the entire distance between her home and the Hasbrouck House.
"Oh, it's so cold," she said. "How are you, my dear? How are you holding up?" She dropped herself into the large, cushioned chair in front of the desk and caught her breath, pressing her hand against her throat like someone feeling for a pulse.
"I'm fine," I said. "Mrs. Avery will bring us some tea shortly."
"How thoughtful. You are so thoughtful and clever. That was one of the first things I said to Logan when he told me how fond of you he was. She's a very clever girl, I said, to have pulled herself up so high so fast."
"Thank you; Mother Stonewall."
"Oh, please, just call me Mother. Mother Stonewall makes me sound like someone's greatgrandmother," she added and followed it with a short, thin laugh.
Ordinarily, I might have laughed at what she had said, but it reminded me of Milan the first time I had met her and she asked me not to call her Grandmother because she had done so well hiding her true age from her friends. Would I be as vain when I reached their ages? I wondered. I hoped not. Vanity was a heavy burden, chaining us to a world
constructed of falsity where people exchange a currency of lies.
I sat back without replying.
"This thing begins tomorrow, then?" she asked. "Yes. I was just preparing for it."
"Oh, dear, dear, what a terrible situation for you and for Logan. Is there no way then to avoid it?" she asked, leaning forward.
"Only if Fanny would return Drake and relinquish any claims to him," I said. "But if she hasn't done it up to now, you can be sure she's prepared to go ahead. She thinks she has less to lose and it's her way at getting back at me. There's nothing more I can do but proceed."
Loretta waited until Mrs. Avery served us the tea before continuing.
"This is all anyone's talking about here," she said as soon as Mrs. Avery left.
"I know."
"Heaven," she said after a long pause. "Logan has told me everything. He was preparing me since it would only come out at the trial. I know what he did was wrong, terribly wrong, and I think it's wonderful of you to be so forgiving, but to let this out in the community, especially this community, would be a terrible mistake. Winnerow is almost the buckle of the Bible Belt. It will be so difficult for both of you here afterward, no matter how successful the factory might be. People will snicker and talk and--"
"I don't care," I said quickly. "Drake is more important than worrying about the gossip of some religious hypocrites."
"But, my dear, you have your own child to think about, too. He or she will go to school here and have to socialize with the other children, whose parents will fill them with tales. It will be so hard."
"What are you suggesting, Mother?" I asked, tired of the whine in her voice.
"Can't you find some way to settle this discreetly? What if you permitted Fanny to have the boy for part of the year and you have him the remaining part?" she asked, smiling as if she had come up with a wonderful solution.
"But as Logan says, she'll probably grow tired of taking care of him, especially since she has her own child on the way. And if there is no promise of big money . . ."
"It's out of the question, Loretta," I said I didn't want to call anyone "Mother" who made such a suggestion. The smile left her face as if I had slapped it.
"You're not thinking of your own family, of Logan and your own child," she said sternly.
"Drake is my own family," I said.
"But my dear," she said, leaning back, "you and I know he's not."
I stared at her. Apparently, there wasn't anything Logan hadn't told her. I wondered if he had told her what had happened between Tony and me.
"Drake is, too, my family," I said slowly, my eyes narrowed, my gaze pointed and sharp as steel knives. "I resent your saying otherwise."
"I'm only trying to be helpful," she said. "I'm only thinking of your welfare."
"Thank you, Mother," I said, smiling, my face dripping with the same false cordiality. "It was so nice of you to come over here in this bitter cold."
The false softness quickly left her eyes. Her hand shook and she nearly dropped the teacup.
"Well, I think you're making a terrible mistake going through with this, but if you're determined to do it, there's nothing more I can say." She put the teacup down so sharply, it nearly shattered. "Please," she said, standing. "Don't tell Logan I came over here to advise you. He asked me not to do it."
"Then why did you?" I asked quickly.
"Sometimes a mother knows what's better for her child . . . instinctively," she said.
"That's exactly how I feel, Mother," I said. "Although I am not Drake's mother, I know instinctively what's better for him, and like his mother, doing what his mother would surely want, I intend to win him back. I hope you'll be there to support us during this trying time."
"Oh, of course, I will," she said quickly. "Poor dears. Of course." She came around the desk to kiss me. Her lips felt cold against my cheek. "Just call me, anytime. And we'll be there right beside you," she said.
She shook her head and sighed and then she left.
I sat back and looked out the window. It must have warmed some, I thought, for it had started to snow, but my heart still felt as if it were caught in the grip of a cold hand. Of course I was frightened about tomorrow. Of course I was concerned about the future of my own child, but I couldn't stand the thought of Drake growing up and someday looking at me with Luke's eyes, filled with a similar resentment. I wanted so much to win his love and have him cherish me as his sister. Fanny sensed just how much I wanted it, and so she set to take it away.
I was tired of losing the people I loved.
"No, Loretta," I whispered, "there is no other way. This journey filled with pain and suffering has come to an end where it all began . . in the Willies. And that's as it should be. Surely, that's as it should be."
I turned back to the papers on the desk, determined I would be ready.
SIXTEEN The Trial
THE COURTHOUSE WAS STUFFED LIKE A THANKSGIVING turkey, with so many people crowded in, it was full to bursting. Nearly in tears Logan's mother told me some people in Winnerow had actually planned to close their shops and leave their jobs to attend the hearing.
This early November day brought us our first true winter weather. It had been snowing heavily all morning; a sharp, brisk wind churned the flakes into wild dervishes. In such bitter, brutal weather I didn't think many people would venture out, but it seemed most of the town had come to witness the spectacle. When Logan and I entered with Camden Lakewood, people stared and whispered, their voices like dry leaves blown before winter's first wind. Everything about us was fodder for their grinding jaws--the clothes we wore, the expression on our faces, and the way we carried ourselves as we walked down the aisle to our seats before the judge's table.
It was Camden Lakewood's idea that we should create a distinct contrast between ourselves and Fanny and Randall immediately, so Logan wore one of his expensive dark blue suits and his lamb's-wool topcoat. I wore a dark blue wool dress, my matching diamond bracelet, necklace, and earrings and my silver fox coat. I had my hair brushed down, but pinned up on the sides.
Logan's parents sat right behind us, his mother looking as though she were holding her breath. Her face was already flushed and she wore the most agitated expression. His father smiled warmly and nodded with encouragement.
The crowd's murmur rose in volume the moment Fanny, Randall, and their attorney, Wendell Burton, entered. They had been married two weeks ago in a quick civil ceremony. Fanny swept in a few steps in front of them. She had her rich black hair pinned into a bun and wore long, silver earrings that dangled from her lobes like icicles. I was surprised at how smart she looked in her heavy dark green wool jacket. It had a detachable cape that she unfastened the moment she came through the door. Beneath her coat she wore a high-collar black wool dress with three- quarter sleeves. She wore no jewelry other than her earrings.
Randall wore a light overcoat. His hair was shiny and wet from the snow, and although he looked frightened and tense, he did appear neat and distinguished in his dark brown suit. Fanny looked directly at people in the audience and smiled. She waved to some people, people I recognized from the Willies. A few smiled and waved back, but most just stared in awe. Randall pulled out Fanny's chair for her. They sat on the opposite side of the courtroom. I felt Fanny's eyes on me, but I didn't look her way. I wanted to wish her away, wish her right out of existence. Was this going to be her way to finally bring me down to her level, to air all our shame before the entire town? Oh, Fanny was so jealous of me, still and forever jealous and spiteful and now she had her day to be heard, and I knew she would show me no mercy. And I had done nothing to her! Nothing! She didn't want Drake to be her child; she wanted only to humiliate me.
When the judge, the Honorable Bryon MacKensie, entered the courtroom, everyone stood up and hushed, the Willies men holding their hats in their hands. The judge spread his black robes as he sat down, very elegantly, and scrutinized his large audience. He appeared slightly taken aback by the size of the crowd. He was a highly respected judge in these parts, presiding over many of the society cases and keeping company with senators and statesmen. He was a tall, lanky man with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes.
He shuffled through some papers on his desk for a moment and then picked up his gavel and rapped it loudly. "This court is now in session," he intoned.
A few people coughed nervously, but other than that, it was as silent as a funeral parlor.
"I expect this hearing to be conducted in an orderly manner," he began. "The audience will not, I repeat, will rot voice comment, clap hands, or in any way disturb the factual presentations and examination of witnesses. Anyone who does so will be forcibly removed and in jeopardy of being held in contempt of court."
He glanced at his papers once again.
"This is a hearing to determine custody of one Drake Casteel. Mr. and Mrs. Logan Stonewall have moved to have the court assign them full guardianship of Drake Casteel, who, we understand, is presently under the care and supervision of Mr. and Mrs. Randall Wilcox.
"Mr. Lakewood, since your clients have moved for this proceeding, I would ask you to begin."
"Thank you, Your Honor," Camden said, rising from his seat. "It is our contention, Your Honor, that my clients Mr. and Mrs. Stonewall are not only in the best position to provide a proper home environment for Drake Casteel, but that in the case of Mr. and Mrs. Randall Wilcox, the opposite is true. We will prove through our arguments that the environment of the Randall household is unwhol
guardianship of the child in question is not in his best interests.
"For this purpose, Your Honor, I would like to present certain witnesses who can not only qualify our arguments but prove to this court the superiority of my client's intentions and home environment."
"Very well, Mr. Lakewood," the judge said mechanically, "please call your first witness."
"We call Mr. Peter Meeks, principal of the Winnerow Schools."
Like trained seals, all the heads of the good folk of Winnerow turned toward Mr. Meeks, who rose quickly from his seat and walked to the witness stand, where he was sworn in. In his arms he carried a folder. Camden Lakewood leaned one elbow on the stand as Mr. Meeks took his seat.
"Please state your name and position for the record."
"My name is Peter Meeks. I am the principal of the Winnerow Schools."
"And for how long have you held this position, Mr. Meeks?"
"Nearly twenty-eight years," he said with obvious pride.
"So you were principal of Winnerow Schools when Fanny and Heaven Casteel were students there?"
"I was."
"I will ask you, Mr. Meeks, to direct your memory to those years, and give the court your evaluation of these two schoolgirls."
"Well," Mr. Meeks began, settling himself more comfortably in the hard wooden seat, "I do remember them vividly because their family was one of the poorer mountain families, and, unfortunately," he said, lowering his voice as if whispering a loud secret to the judge, like a schoolboy who wants his secret heard by all, "these families and their children give us most of our discipline problems. They come to school undernourished, poorly dressed, and are not very motivated when it comes to learning."