Title: Troy
Disclaimer: I own nothing
"Troy..." The forbidden word had escaped her lips in an agonizing sob as she knelt on the floor fingering each small piece of the cottage that was scattered on the floor. The cottage that was given to me at birth, the one that had meant so much to her. But who was this Troy? My eyes filled with confusion as uncontrollable tears streaked down her flushed face. She held up the figure of the man, the one I had so often wondered about. His dark mess of hair curled on the ends, just as mine did and his dark brown eyes so filled with something...something wondrous that I could not explain. My father stood staring down at her, with what seemed to be a mix of sympathy, and confusion. Something told me that he knew just as much as I did about the meaning of this cottage. Her black mascara ran down her cheek and her hair lie in silvery strands framing her face.
We watched her, my father and I, watched as her world inside the cottage was torn a part before he spoke, "Heaven?" He asked shakily. She picked her head up as though she didn't realize we were there. Quickly she picked herself up and brushed down the wrinkles in her new creme suit, but not once dropping the figurine. "Heavenly, darling, are you alright?" At the word 'Heavenly' my mother broke down in tears again.
"Don't call me that." Then shocked by her tone, "Please." Her sobs were heavily mixed with many emotions I felt she was finally releasing. Come to think of it, never once had I ever seen my mother cry.
"Momma...I'm sorry...the cottage...it just...fell.." My voice shook with fear. I had watched her every time she stopped to stare at the cottage. Her eyes gave a soft glow, along with a distant far off look. It was a look I never had seen before. She smiled at me through her tears.
"It's alright Annie, darling, really..." But the smile seemed strained somehow and her face looked broken, as if she had lost a piece of her memories.
"I'm sure the craftsmen can make you a new one, Heaven." My father said offering to help. But didn't he realize it was this one she loved? "Really, darling, I never understood why this cottage was so important to you." She looked up at him and gave him a look of pure disgust. My mother had never looked at my father this way.
"No they can never make another one." She said firmly. Then sighed heavily as she picked up the pieces, the fallen girl lie still in her hand. She looked at it, her eyes growing watery and her hands shaking. "This is me." The beautifully carved figure wearing a matching blue cashmere shirt and blouse. She looked so young. Surely this couldn't be my mother.
"Troy." My Father said in a distant voice, a realizing voice. "Troy, this was made by Troy." My mother smiled satisfied.
"Who else could create such a masterpiece. He is the brilliance behind Tatterton Toys." Her eyes looked as though she had gone back in time and this Troy was beside her, "Never Tony. Sure he could do the financial this that...but Troy...Troy was the creator." My father held up a piece of the cottage and studied it.
"The cottage...the cottage behind Farthy." He spoke without realizing. I felt as if I had no voice. Who was this Troy?
"Yes the cottage. His cottage."
"But how could Troy have made this for Annie...I thought he was...dead?" Another memory seemed to flash across my mother's eyes.
"He is dead, to the world at least. To everyone but myself and Tony." Realization came across his face as he stared at my mother.
"You love him." My father said, a hurt expression on his face.
"I loved him." She said but I could tell she still loved this man, this man who was not my father. This man who was not Logan Stonewall, the man she had married. "But I love you."
"But the cottage! Heaven, damn it! This whole time you looked into Annie's room to the cottage you saw him! You saw him instead of me." Tears filled her eyes once again.
"Logan, I love you." My mother insisted. "But you know I loved Troy...once."
"Why did you keep this...memory of him in my daughters room." His face was turning red with rage.
"Oh but she's not your daughter!" My mother screamed back just as angry. Suddenly she clamped a hand over her mouth. The color drained from my face and I suddenly felt my whole world crash upon me.
"What?" My father seemed twice as pale as I was. He stared at me with a questionable expression, searching me for proof of my being his.
"You think she is yours? Logan Grant Stonewall I know you knew, from some level you knew. Her eyes. They are Troy's eyes. How could you not see. Her hands, are true Tatterton fingers, Troy's hands. The way her hair curls at the ends, the deep rich color. This is not a Stonewall." My mother turned to me, tears streaming down her face she suddenly smiled. "This is a Tatterton. This is Troy's Tatterton." My mouth was left ajar as I stared at the parents before me. This Troy was my father...this man I had never met and who my mother had loved.
"Logan..." She sobbed falling into his arms, "I never meant to tell you. I wanted you to love her like your own, not like how Pa loved me." He held her tightly but I could tell he was still angry. And what was I to think? "I love you, Logan."
"....You know I love you, Heaven." I ran into their embrace and there we stood. The three Stonewalls. My father looked at me one more time when he released us of our embrace. Still in complete shock, but his eyes soften. "Annie...I love you. To me, you are my daughter." He then looked at my mother for a moment. Anger still flickering in his eyes. Then looking at her hard glance, he sighed his throat, "I'm going to go downstairs. Come join me when your ready." When Logan had left the room I stared at my mother for a moment, she looked so helpless with tears in her eyes. I sat down at my vanity table not speaking to her. How could she do such a thing to me? I left the tears roll off my cheek. She walked over to me and grabbed the brush, just as we always did. She brushed out my long hair, that curled on the end, just as my father's. We did not speak for moments until I finally looked up at the newly formed tears in her eyes.
"You remind me so much of him." Surprisingly I smiled.
"Momma...why was that cottage so special to Troy and you?" She smiled. It was a wonderful smile, unlike any other I had seen on her.
"Annie...it was our fairytale castle, more than Farthy itself." She stared with a far off look, "When we were there it was just the two of us..no one else mattered. It was a wondrous place for both of us..." She continued and I listened. I listened to her words and the faint melody of the Chopin playing in the background of her haunted memories.