"Andrews, V C - The Casteels 03 - Fallen Hearts" - читать интересную книгу автора (Andrews V.C)

For a moment I couldn't speak, but I knew all the little faces with
their bright, happy eyes were on me.

"Thank you, children," I said. "No matter what gifts I get after this,
none will be as precious or as important to me."

And none was.

The time between the last day of school and my wedding day seemed like
ages. Minutes were more like hours and hours more like days because I
wanted it to come so much. Even all the plans and preparations didn't
make the time fly by, as I hoped it would. Still, the anticipation
built my excitement and Logan was with me as much as possible. Replies
to our invitations came flooding in. I hadn't spoken to Tony Tatterton
since the day I left Farthinggale Manor, the day I learned of Troy's
death. Partly, I couldn't forgive him for what had happened to Troy,
partly I was so frightened of the truth I had learned, the truth that
had sent Troy to his death. I knew I would no longer be able to hear
his voice without hearing the familiar timbre of my own in it. What I
had learned about Tony and my mother, even two years later, still sent
shudders down my spine. To have lived for so long with the lie that Pa
was my blood and kin, Pa who had rejected me at every turn and whose
love I had needed most, only to find out that when Pa looked at me, he
saw my mother's former lover, her own stepfather, my father and
grandfather, Tony Tatterton.

This knowledge frightened me to the marrow, not only for its tawdriness
and wrongness, but for what it told me of my heritage. I didn't dare
tell Logan. His innocence might be shattered by such despicable ways of
the wealthy who controlled the world. But there was something more.
That last day on the beach with Tony, after he told me of Troy's hideous
death, a look had come into his eyes, a look thattransgressed any
mourning, a look of such pure desire that I knew I must stay away from
him. This is why I didn't take his phone calls, why his letters piled
up on my desk unanswered, why it was Pa, rather than Tony, who I wanted
to be my father at the wedding. For in spite of everything, and even
though I now knew he wasn't my real father, I still craved Pa's love; I
already had too much of Tony's.

But since I didn't want Logan to know the shameful truth of my heritage,
I dutifully sent Tony an invitation to the wedding. And Tony, sly fox
that he was, wrote not to me but to Logan, explaining that Grandmother
Jillian was so ill he couldn't possibly leave her to attend the wedding,
but insisting that we come to Farthinggale Manor, where he would host
for us the finest wedding reception Massachusetts had ever seen. Logan
was so excited by his invitation that I reluctantly agreed to spend four
days at Farthy before we headed for our honeymoon in Virginia Beach. We
would return to Winnerow to live in the cabin until we could build our
own fine house on the outskirts of Winnerow.