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him to do, but in doing it, he had brought the curtain down on fantasy and illusion and on childhood dreams, and left me feeling empty and sad.
More than ever now, I wanted to know what it was that had driven my mother away from
Farthinggale and left that distinguished elderly man alone in those enormous rooms and deep shadows.
I couldn't help myself. My soft weeping grew more and more intense until I was sobbing like a baby. When I exhausted myself with it, I fell asleep with Drake's letter clutched in my hands and woke with the ringing of my phone. I was so happy to hear Luke's voice.
"What is it?" he asked immediately. There really was something special about us being born on the same day. We always seemed to know instantly when the other was upset.
"Drake has written me a letter. He went to Farthinggale and he saw Tony Tatterton." For a moment he didn't respond.
"Really?"
"You'll have to come over so I can read it to you," I told him. "Oh Luke, it's not what we dreamt it was."
"I don't care what Drake's written or what it really is," Luke said defiantly. "Our dreams are important to us because they fill our lives with hope and light."
"Oh Luke," I said smiling at his determination to hold on to our precious, secret fantasies, "I hope you will always be nearby when I need someone to cheer me up."
"Of course I will," he promised.
But I couldn't help wondering if that too was just another one of our childhood fantasies.

THREE Crossroads
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    Drake couldn't return from college until after the end of June because he had finals to take, but he phoned me a few days after he had mailed his letter to be sure I had received it and to tell me more about Farthy.
    "Tony Tatterton showed me what was once Heaven's room when she first came to Farthy to live," Drake said in a voice lowered in confidence.
    "He did!" My heart beat faster, louder, at just the thought of his being there, being where so many secret things involving our family had taken place. Of all of us, Drake had been closest to the answers to the questions that haunted. Were there any clues he might have missed that I would have seen?
    "Or what was also your grandmother Leigh's room. I got a little confused about that because one moment he was telling me about Heaven and the next he was talking about Leigh."
    "Maybe he's the confused one; maybe he's senile," I suggested.
"I don't think so. He still handles some of the business affairs for the Tatterton Toy Company, and when we began to talk. about my career and the economy, he seemed very sharp and up on everything."
"How does he look? Like he did in the pictures?"
"Not anymore. He's completely gray, and when I saw him, he obviously hadn't shaved for a few days. He was wearing what looked to be expensive clothing, but his jacket needed pressing, as did his pants, and his tie was stained. I don't think the butler, a man called Curtis, is much good any longer. His eyesight is apparently poor and it takes him ages to move from one room to another."
"Weren't there any maids?" I asked, a little astounded. I would have thought a man as rich as Tony Tatterton was surrounded by a staff of servants.
"I didn't see any, but I'm sure there must be at least one to clean up the areas he lives in. I met the cook because he helped serve the meal. His name is . . get this . . Rye Whiskey."
"Oh, I remember hearing Mommy mention that name," I squealed with excitement. Just hearing the name made the few stories from the forbidden past come alive for me. "He must be very old, too."
"Probably, but he doesn't show his age as much as the butler does. He was so grateful for another mouth to feed, he piled enough food for three on my plate. I liked him. He has a great sense of humor, and I could see he cares a great deal about Tony."
"How I wish I had been there too," I cried. Every moment would reveal a discovery and a new and better understanding of my family's past, I thought. To walk up those stairs and step into what had been my grandmother's