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Michelle was heartbroken when Bill told her she could not go to the lighthouse to visit Lewis. I thought it was cruel, but I certainly understood his reasoning. Michelle and Lewis wrote letters and made phone calls to each other, but it was not the same. After a year or so, the calls and letters became less frequent. Then they stopped altogether. Bill took over as CEO of Lewis Oil when his father, Billy, died of a stroke. Shayne signed over all of his shares of stock to Bill, claiming he wanted to go to Africa, and do missionary work.
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Bill tried to reason with him, but Shayne insisted. He had not been quite the same after his sister died.
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On Michelle's nineteenth birthday, Bill threw a large party for her at the country club. She looked so beautiful that night, with her pink dress and flowers in her hair. Bill and I were stunned when she came down the stairs; she looked so much like her mother we gasped when we saw her. Just for a moment, I thought her mother had returned to us.
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Michelle laughed at our reactions, and said, "What's wrong? You both look like you've seen a ghost!"
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"Oh honey! It's just that you look so beautiful, you take my breath away!" Bill exclaimed.
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"Thank you Daddy," Michelle cried, and kissed her father's cheek.
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Michelle glowed at the party that night. Every boy asked her to dance, and she laughed as they twirled her around. Finally, she grew tired of dancing, and told us she was going to sit by the pool. I followed her a few minutes later, and was horrified to find her with Danny.
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"My father told me never to speak to you Mr. Santos," she said, turning to leave.
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Danny paced his hand on her shoulder, and said, "I need to talk to you about Lewis."
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Michelle whirled around to face him again. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she quickly brushed them away.
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Danny started at the sight of her tearful face, but quickly regained his composure. "I'm sorry. Just for a moment, you reminded me so much of your mother. She looked at me that way so many times," he continued. "I wanted to talk to you about Lewis. He is very sick; the doctors say his body is rejecting his kidney. I am afraid he is going to die, and I think a visit from you might give him the strength to fight his disease. When you stopped calling, he was crushed. He thought you loved him, and I thought so too. Please go to the lighthouse to see him. I am going to be out of town for a week, so I'm sure your father won't object."
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"I'm sure he would object Danny!" I interrupted. "Bill has forbidden Michelle to go to the lighthouse. He would never give her permission."
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"It would be very cruel to refuse a dying boy his last wish," Danny returned. "Lewis has lost his will to live, Michelle. Please go to him, he needs you. I will be leaving on my business trip in the morning. Shall I tell him to expect you, or will you break his heart again?"
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Michelle opened her mouth to reply, but I grabbed her arm, stopping her.
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"Michelle loves her cousin very much, but she cannot visit him. Tell him she will call him tomorrow."
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"Very well, I said what I came to say," Danny replied. "Remember what I told you Michelle; Lewis needs you." Then he walked away, disapearing into the night.
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Michelle turned to me and sobbed into my chest. "Please Maria!" she cried. "I have to see Lewis. Mr. Santos said he was going out of town. Please let me go. Daddy doesn't have to know. It would be our secret."
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I argued with Michelle for several minutes, but I finally relented on the condition that I would accompany her. I took her to the lighthouse the following afternoon. Dietz let us in, and we followed him up the stairs. Poor Lewis was sitting on the sofa. He seemed shrunken, and his skin and eyes were tinged with yellow. Upon seeing her cousin, Michelle ran to him, giving him a fierce embrace.
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"Michelle is that you?" he said weakly. "No don't kiss me; it takes my breath. Papa said you would come. Would you close the door? You left it open, and it is already so cold in here." I closed the door, and turned back to them.
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Michelle regarded him peevishly.
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"Well Lewis," murmured Michelle. "Are you glad to see me?"
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"Why didn't you call Michelle?" he answered, looking annoyed. "I thought Dietz came in with you. Where did he go? I have been calling for him. Will you go find him for me?" he said, looking at me.
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"Dietz went back downstairs," I replied. I was reluctant to run around following the boy's orders, after receiving no thanks for closing the door.
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"I need him to get me something to drink," he whined. "Dietz has not been very attentive since Papa left; it's miserable. I have to come sit down here; Dietz has resolved never to hear me upstairs."
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My sympathy for him was beginning to fade. He never acted like this when he was with us, no matter how sick he was. "Is your father attentive to you?" I asked.
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"Attentive? He makes them a little more attentive, at least," he cried. "Do you know, Michelle, that Mick laughs at me! I hate him! I hate them all!"
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Michelle, not knowing how to respond, went to the kitchen, and got him a glass of water. He took it from her, and having swallowed a small amount, appeared more tranquil.
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"And are you glad to see me?" she asked again, with an expectant look on her face.
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"Yes, I am," he replied, "but I have been angry because you would not call. Papa said it was my fault. He called me a pitiful, worthless thing, and said you despised me. You don't despise me, do you Michelle?"
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"Despise you? No! Next to Daddy and Maria, I love you more than I love anyone. I do not love your father, though, and I am afraid to come when he returns. Will he be gone for the rest of the week?"
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"Yes," answered Lewis; "but he goes to his office almost every day. You could come and sit for an hour or two with me in his absence. I have dialysis treatments in the mornings, but you could come in the afternoons. Say you will come. I think I would not be complaining so much with you here. You would not provoke me, and you would always be ready to help me, wouldn't you?"
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"Yes," said Michelle. She knelt beside him, and stroked his hair. "If I could only get Daddy's consent, I would spend half my time with you. Sweet Lewis! I wish you were my brother."
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"And then you would like me as well as your father?" He asked more cheerfully. "But Papa says you would love me better than him and all the world if you were my wife; so I'd rather you were that."
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"No, I will never love anybody more than Daddy," she returned gravely. "And people hate their wives sometimes, but not their sisters and brothers. If you were my brother, you would live with us, and Daddy would be as fond of you as he is me."
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Lewis denied that people ever hated their wives, but Michelle affirmed they did. She recalled his own father's aversion to his mother. I tried to halt her thoughtless words, but she did not stop until everything was out. Lewis was very irritated, and asserted her revelation was false.
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"My father told me," she answered pertly, "and my father doesn't lie."
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"My father curses yours!" cried Lewis. "He calls him a damned fool!"
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"Your father is a cruel man," Michelle retorted, "and you are very bad to repeat what he says. He must be wicked to have made Cousin Marah leave him the way she did."
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"Well, I'll tell you something," Lewis said. "Your mother hated your father! So there!"
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"Oh how dare you say that!" she exclaimed.
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"And she loved mine," added Lewis.
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"You little liar! I hate you now!" Michelle screamed.
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"She did! She did!" Lewis cried.
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"Hush, Lewis!" I said. "That's your father's tale too, I suppose."
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"She did! She did, Michelle! She did! She did!" Lewis sang.
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Michelle gave him a violent push, and he fell off the sofa. I tried to help Lewis up, but he pushed me away. He bent his head down, and I could see tears wetting his eyelashes. Michelle sobbed, horrified by what she had done; though, she said nothing. Finally she stifled her tears, and sat down on the floor beside him. They sat together in silence.
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"Are you alright now, Lewis?" I asked, after waiting ten minutes.
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"Mick never touches me; he never hit me in his life. And I was better today, and there---" His voice died in a whimper.
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"I didn't hit you!" Michelle muttered, chewing her lip to prevent another outburst.
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He sighed and moaned like someone suffering greatly, and kept it up for fifteen minutes. Apparently on purpose, to upset his cousin, because whenever he caught a stifled sob from her he put renewed pain into his lamentations. Michelle apologized profusely, but he would not relent.
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"Do you want me to go, Lewis?" Michelle asked, finally. "I've told you I was sorry."
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"Leave me alone, at least," he said. "I can't bear your talking." I helped him back onto the sofa, and he turned his head to the wall.
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Michelle lingered, and refused my assertions to leave. Finally, as he neither looked at her nor spoke, she made a movement towards the door, and I followed. We were recalled by a blood-curdling scream from Lewis.
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Lewis was lying on the floor again, holding his knee. Apparently, he had tried to get up, to halt our departure, and fell. He writhed around with the perverseness of a toddler, determined to be as dreadful and harassing as possible. I knew that it would be foolish to attempt humoring him, but Michelle ran back in terror. She knelt down beside him, crying. She spoke soothingly until he quieted---no doubt from lack of breath, rather than regret for worrying her.
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"I will lift him back onto the couch," I said. "Then he can roll around as much as he wants. I hope you are satisfied, Michelle, that you are not the person to benefit him. Attachment to you is not the cause of his condition. Now, then, there he is! Let's go. As soon as he knows there is nobody around to care for his nonsense, he'll be glad to lie still."
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Michelle placed a pillow under his head, and offered him some water. He rejected the water, and tossed around on the pillow, as if it were a stone or a block of wood. She tried to arrange it more comfortably.
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"It's not high enough," he whined. Michelle went to one of the bedrooms, and brought him another.
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"That's too high," murmured the provoking thing. Michelle fussed around with the pillows, and he complained bitterly.
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Finally frustrated, she sighed, "How do you want me to arrange it, then?" He reached up to her, and tried to use her shoulder for support. Michelle's body bent forward from the weight of her burden.
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"O.K. That's enough!" I said. "You will have to be satisfied with the pillows, Lewis. Michelle has wasted too much time on you already; we have to go now."
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"No we don't Maria," Michelle interrupted. "He is going to be good now. Aren't you Lewis? Tell the truth---because I should not come again if I have hurt you."
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"You must come, to cure me," Lewis replied. "You ought to come, because you have hurt me; you know you have. I was in much better shape when you got here---wasn't I?"
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"You made yourself sick, by crying and throwing a tantrum!" I observed.
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"I didn't do it all," Michelle added. "However, we will be friends now. You want me you wish to see me sometimes, really?"
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"I already told you I did," he replied impatiently. "Sit beside me, and let me lean on your shoulder. I don't want you to talk, but you can sing a song, if you like---or you could tell me a story. I'd rather hear a song, though. Begin."
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Michelle began singing all of her favorite songs. They both seemed to enjoy this pastime, and she sang to him until dusk. Finally, she got up to leave.
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"Will you come back tomorrow?" Lewis asked pitifully, grabbing the hem of her skirt.
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"No!" I said. "Not tomorrow, or the next day." She evidently gave him a different response, because he smiled, when she stooped down and whispered in his ear.
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A car pulled up when we got outside. A much younger replica of Danny got out of the car, and slung a backpack over his shoulder. He smiled broadly when he saw Michelle, and she shyly returned his smile.
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"Just my luck to be arriving, as a pretty girl is leaving. Hi! I'm Mick Santos." Mick thrust out his hand, but quickly took it back when he saw Michelle's reaction to his name.
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"Gosh! Did I say something wrong?"
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Michelle stared at him, her face hot with fury. "You are the one that has been torturing my cousin, Lewis!" she cried.
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"That little brat deserves nothing less!" Mick exclaimed. "You must be the fabled Michelle he keeps bragging about. I must say, he didn't exaggerate about your looks."
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"I want you to leave my cousin alone! He's sick, and you shouldn't treat him that way!"
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Mick laughed at her comment, his dark eyes sparkling. Michelle shot him a nasty look, and jumped into our car, slamming the door. I told Mick that I knew him as a baby, and we talked for a few minutes. He said he was attending Springfield University, majoring in business administration. Finally, Michelle honked the horn furiously, and I said my good-byes to Mick.
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On the drive home, Michelle sulked, with her arms crossed over her chest. "Remember, you are not going back tomorrow Michelle. You aren't dreaming of it are you?" I asked, breaking the silence. She gave me a sly smile.
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"I'll take good care to make sure you don't!" I continued, "even if I have to tell your father."
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"I'm nineteen years old Maria!" she laughed. "You can't stop me. What are you going to do lock me in my room? I am sure Lewis would recover quickly, if I took care of him. I am older than he is, you know, and he'll soon do as I tell him. We won't fight anymore. He is so sweet when he is good. Don't you like him Maria?"
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"Like him!" I exclaimed. "He is the most spoiled rotten little monster that ever struggled into his teens. Happily, he is unlikely to reach twenty, and small loss to his family when he drops off. Lucky for us that his father took him---the kinder he was treated, the more insufferable and selfish he would be. I'm glad you have no chance of having him for a husband Michelle."
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Michelle thought seriously about my comments. Undoubtedly, my speaking of Lewis's death hurt her feelings.
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"You are wrong Maria," she answered finally. "He will get better with my care, and he will live as long as I do."
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"If he recovers, it will not be with your care!" I shouted. "If you persist in trying to see him, I will tell your father."
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She said nothing more the enitre ride home. The next day I woke up with a terrible cold, and I was unable to leave my bed. Michelle played nurse with me all morning, and in the afternoon, I fell asleep. I woke again in the evening when she brought me some dinner. She told me her father had come home with the same cold, and had gone straight to bed. When she poked her head into my room hours later, to say goodnight, I noticed her cheeks were flushed and her hands were red. She claimed she had been outside in the garden enjoying the cold night air.
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