Strings of the Heart (Runaway Train #3)(37)
“Yes, sir. I attend the Savannah College of Art and Design.”
“And what exactly do you plan to do with your degree?”
“Fashion design.”
At his father’s obvious lack of enthusiasm for my major, Rhys cleared his throat. “Allison’s just been accepted for a very prestigious internship.”
I smiled. “Rhys flatters me, but I will be fulfilling my internship while out on tour with his band.”
Margaret made a strangled noise beside me. When I turned to her, she asked, “So you and Rhys will be spending a lot of time together?”
With a nod, I replied, “Yes, just for the summer. I’ll pick up classes again in the fall.”
“I see,” she said, not bothering to hide her disdain.
Craning his neck around the room, Rhys asked, “Where’s Ellie?”
Margaret immediately stiffened before exchanging a glance with Elliot. “Tonight just isn’t the place for Eleanor,” Elliot replied.
Rhys’s pleasant expression instantly darkened. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
A nervous titter escaped Margaret’s lips as she gave a flippant wave of her hand. “You know your sister’s limitations. A crowded party full of strange people isn’t the place for her.”
“What you mean to say is, it’s the perfect place for you to be embarrassed by your own daughter?”
“Rhys, you may be a grown adult, but I will not have you speak to your mother with that tone,” Elliot warned.
Shaking his head, Rhys questioned bitterly, “I don’t know why I’m even surprised. Is she even here, or did you keep her as far away as possible by having her stay at the Brandewine Institute?”
“She is here, just like she is every weekend. She just will not be attending the party.”
“You two really disgust me sometimes,” Rhys bellowed, before he turned and strode determinedly out of the room.
I exchanged a horrified glance with Rhys’s parents. “Excuse me,” I said, before hightailing after him. When I got back into the foyer, I glanced left and right to see where Rhys had gone. I heard a door slam in the back, so I raced as best I could in my heels and dress to catch up with him.
As I got outside, I saw him stalking across the garden area. “Rhys, wait!” I called.
He froze. He still hadn’t turned around by the time I got to him. Instead, his broad shoulders were drawn, his head tucked into his chest. Tentatively, I reached my hand out to touch his arm. Words seemed to escape me. There was obviously a sordid history about Rhys’s younger sister that I wasn’t privy to—one that hurt him very deeply. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
Rhys turned his head to look at me. “There’s nothing you need to apologize for. It’s my f**king parents and their bullshit way of thinking.”
My hand rubbed up and down his arm. “I’m still sorry they upset you. It’s obvious that you love your sister, and that you don’t want to see her mistreated.”
“I do love her.” Rhys’s shoulders slumped farther. “Sometimes I think I’m the only one who does.”
“Then let’s go see her. I’m sure she wants to spend time with you.”
With a slight nod of his head, Rhys started toward the front door of the carriage house. His hand hovered over the ornate door knocker before he pulled it back. “Allison, before you meet her, I guess I need to explain about Ellie.”
“Okay,” I replied cautiously. At that moment, I didn’t know what to expect behind that door. Between what Elliot and Margaret had said, coupled with Rhys acting so mysteriously, I didn’t know if Ellie was just your typical rebellious daughter that her uptight parents were ashamed of or if there was something else—something much more serious.
“Ellie is different.”
“Different how?” I pressed.
He grimaced. “I hate even saying that about her. The truth is she’s severely autistic. She isn’t anything like Lucy.” He shook his head. “It’s a horrible thing to do, but I guess to prepare you in the best way, she’s an autistic savant, like Rain Man, except she’s nonverbal.”
My heart ached for the pain I could feel coming from Rhys. “Why don’t your parents want her coming to the party?” I questioned softly.
Rhys ran a hand over his face that wore an agonized expression. “Although my mother may head up charity campaigns for autism research, she prefers to keep Ellie out of sight. Most of the time, Ellie does fine in crowds—loud noise or music doesn’t bother her like some autistic people. She even seems to thrive on being with people, or at least she has at her group home. But my mother would never risk having Ellie at one of her parties. To her, Ellie will always be an embarrassment—like a crack in a beautiful piece of Waterford crystal. You would think after twenty-three years, she would have accepted the imperfection, but she hasn’t. During the week, Ellie lives at the Brandewine Institute, which is a group home for adults with disabilities. Basically, it’s a place where a lot of wealthy society families from Georgia and South Carolina, stick their mentally challenged adult children.”
“That’s so sad.”
“I wouldn’t stand for it if Ellie wasn’t happy there. She fits in well, and she spends hours painting.” He stared pointedly at me. “That’s where she painted your necklace. She really enjoys painting intricate details like that on small objects.”