Castle's Keep

by Linda Mooney

  "There."

  She turned to see a doorway that hadn't existed two minutes ago. Glancing back at him, and seeing him zipping up his own pants, she bit her lower lip. “Come back with me, Warren. At least have the decency to say goodbye to all of those people whom you knew and worked with for so long."

  "If I do, they'll try to talk me out of it.” He swallowed hard enough for her to hear as he buckled his belt. “I'll be confined to that fucking wheelchair where they could keep me strapped in and unable to return here."

  "I won't let them,” she promised with a shake of her head.

  "You damn right,” he frowned again, “because I'm not going back. It's time you left, Johana."

  "And that's it? You're going to let me walk out of this place so you can frolic alone for the next fifty years?” The tears rolled down her cheeks as she blinked furiously against them. “You have what I have dreamed about my whole life. I belong here, Warren. I belong here with you. Why won't you see that? Why won't you let me stay? What's the real reason why I can't stay with you?"

  For the first time she watched as he turned away from her in order to gather his thoughts. If she didn't know better, she would swear he was also trying not to let his emotions get the better of him.

  But he never turned back around to answer her. Johana numbly watched as Warren William Castle slipped into his shoes, then proceeded to return upstairs to the turret bedroom, taking the steps in silence. When he was finally out of sight, she walked through the new door, out of the foyer and onto a narrow path lined with stone.

  It was nighttime. A bright, full moon gave her enough light to follow the path as it wound back towards the lake. Johana knew where it would finally end up. When she reached the meadow, the trail stopped abruptly.

  One last look at the castle revealed several of the windows glowing with light. Behind one of them was the man she knew was her equal. Her fellow dreamer of dreams.

  A man with a skewed sense of what could or couldn't be.

  "You're wrong,” she whispered. “I do belong here. This place may not answer to me, but it let me in. That has to account for something."

  Standing in the meadow with the cool night breeze ruffling through her loose hair, Johana held out her arms and started to walk across the grass. Although she expected something to occur, the sight of her hands vanishing into nothingness nearly made her faint. In the next instant she felt her wrists being grabbed, and she was jerked out of the painting.

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  Chapter Ten

  "Oh, dear God, are you all right?"

  Gracie fluttered around her, offering Johana a glass of water to help calm her nerves as the old reality sank in. Unconsciously, Johana tried to reach for the glass with her left arm, but the limb refused to function properly. Too late she remembered why. She'd also forgotten that Warren had torn the sleeve off her blouse so the sight of the withered appendage stood out like a mummified remain. She quickly wrapped her other arm around it and cradled both against her abdomen. Gracie understood and slipped off her cardigan.

  "Here. Put this on."

  "Thank you.” Gratefully, Johana pulled on the sweater before accepting the glass with her good hand. “How long was I gone?"

  "All day. It's nearly eight p.m."

  All day? Then time in the painting matched real time, Johana realized.

  "Did you find Bill? Is he all right?"

  Johana stared down at the secretary's hand where it clutched her good arm. Nodding, she looked up at the woman and managed a smile. “Yeah. I found him."

  "He's okay, isn't he? I mean, nothing's happened to him over there, has it?"

  Taking a deep breath, Johana hesitated slightly, then answered, “He's fine. In fact ... Gracie, he plans to stay there."

  "For how long?"

  "Umm, forever."

  "Now? Is he serious? I mean ... I mean..."

  Johana managed to nod. They were still in Castle's office, but Gracie had dragged in another chair during her long wait. It was in that chair Johana sat as the secretary interrogated her.

  "He told me to tell you to go ahead and file a missing person's report. Then have the painting sealed."

  The woman paled at the order. Backing up slightly, she propped herself up against the massive, carved desk and stared at Johana. “He's been telling me ever since he first discovered he could go into that painting that one day he would never come back,” Gracie acknowledged in a whisper. “I just thought that ... I never thought it would be this soon."

  "He said...” Johana tried to speak, but everything was starting to rush back to her. All of it—every memory, each little detail of Warren's Camelot, and especially the intoxicating love they had made—rushed back to her like a surging tide.

  She belonged with him, dammit! Why wouldn't he admit it? Why couldn't he accept it?

  Johana turned to where she could see the wall and its priceless artwork. What if she went back in there? What would he do if she disobeyed and returned? Would he try to throw her out? Or would he pitch another royal fit while the skies turned black and the winds howled in protest?

  Another thought came to her, but this time she gulped in fear. What if she couldn't go back in? What if he somehow placed a lock at the entrance, preventing her from returning? What if she was barred now from Shangri-La?

  "Johana? Johana, can you hear me?"

  Gracie's strident voice broke through her worry, bringing Johana back to the present. Fighting the tears, she looked up at the secretary standing in front of her.

  "I'm sorry. What?"

  "You started to say something. You said he said..."

  Johana shook her head. “I'm sorry. I'm ... blank.” Her gaze locked on the carpet, but her thoughts were drawn inward. A hand on her shoulder pulled her back once more into the present.

  "Is it really as magnificent as the painting depicts?” Gracie softly asked.

  "Yes. Oh, yes. And more.” Lifting her face, Johana gave her a trembling smile. “He's whole and well when he's over there. He doesn't need a wheelchair. He has everything he needs...” Her voice trailed off, and her mind turned inward once again.

  "Everything ... except companionship,” Gracie finished, voicing what Johana didn't have the courage to say.

  "I belong in there. With him. But he won't let me stay.” The tears were coming faster now, filling up her eyes quicker than she could blink them away. Worse, her throat was closing up, and her face felt hot, feverish. Her whole body felt bereft, as if she was mourning the loss of something precious.

  It's because you have, Johana. You've lost your only chance at happiness. Your only chance to have your dreams fulfilled. Your only chance at being loved.

  "Johana, what happened in there? Did something happen between you and Bill?"

  A wad of tissues miraculously appeared in her good hand. Johana wiped her eyes and sniffed. “If you file a missing person's report like he wants you to, what happens then?"

  Gracie perched on the edge of the desk and frowned. The resemblance to Warren giving her the same expression was almost identical, Johana noticed.

  "I've known for some time the company was becoming self-sufficient. Bill worked damn hard to get it to that point. Then, about four weeks ago, he told me what he was going to do. If I file a missing person's report, there's going to be an intense investigation into his disappearance. I might even be suspected of killing him. But Bill has the paperwork already done. He wrote a letter describing how he planned to go into seclusion and never come back to Vermont. I was to use that letter, plus other documents he's stored in a vault at the bank, in order to place a moratorium on the estate and the company. The shareholders would then convene and appoint a new president and director. The company would continue. This place would go into receivership. After a specific length of time, the house and grounds would be turned into an art gallery and museum as per Bill's will and wishes. The painting would be preserved and showcased.” She hugged herself. “He had it plan
ned down to the nth degree."

  Down to the nth degree. That was so like him and his attention to detail, Johana silently observed. “What about you? What will happen to you?” she asked the older woman. “You've worked for this family for so long."

  Gracie gave her another sad smile. “Don't worry about me. Brenden left me a nice retirement, and Bill, too. In fact, Bill told me it would be his final wish for me to become the overseer here at the estate. He wanted someone he could trust to keep an eye on the painting."

  "So that's what you'll do? Stay here?"

  The secretary lightly shrugged. “Why not? I love it here. There's really no place else I would rather be."

  It made perfect sense, Johana realized. If Gracie remained in charge of watching over the masterpiece, Warren would be able to live without worry. As long as Castle's Keep stood, the man's future was infinite.

  Shakily, she got to her feet and went over to stand before the painted wall. It took every ounce of willpower not to touch the surface. But, more than anything, it was fear that held her back. If she pressed her fingers to the landscape, and they didn't disappear, it would kill her. Her heart would explode, and she would die, knowing she was no longer able to...

  Still on wobbly knees, she stepped away from the wall and wrapped her arms tighter around her. “I have to go,” she murmured, and started for the swinging doors leading out of the room.

  If Gracie told her goodbye, she never heard it.

  * * * *

  * * * *

  Her flight out of Burlington was scheduled for 11:10 the next morning. After a sleepless night, Johana had given up trying to get some rest around six. She checked out of the motel and drove straight to the airport where she turned in her rental car and prepared to wait for her flight.

  Once she was sure her boss was in his office, she phoned him to bring him up to speed.

  "You got the interview?” Holden asked straight out.

  "Yes. I got my hook, too,” she replied before he could drill her further.

  "Will it sell copies?"

  She snorted. The man had no idea how timely the article would hit, considering. “I'll have a rough draft on your desk by tomorrow."

  Tomorrow. By then word would be out that the artist had gone AWOL. How long would it take for the news to spread throughout the art world that Warren William Castle was missing? How long would it take before sales of the reprint jumped? And once people discovered the real painting back at the estate...

  Castle's Keep refused to let her go. All she had to do was close her eyes, and she was back inside it as if she'd never left. The colors, the buildings, the atmosphere and textures—everything continued to live and breathe and exist within her. In fact, Castle's fairy tale land seemed more real to her now than actual life.

  Castle's fairy tale land...

  Bill's creation...

  Warren's dream...

  Oh, God, when will this pain inside me go away?

  AT THIS TIME WE WILL BEGIN BOARDING FLIGHT 2303 TO NEW YORK'S LA GUARDIA AIRPORT. WE WILL START WITH PRE-FLIGHT BOARDING.

  "No."

  Bolting from her seat, Johana left the gate and hurried back to the rental car agency. The man appeared surprised to see her again, but he quickly issued her a new vehicle. Fifteen minutes later Johana was on the road and heading for South Suddey.

  From the moment she got on the highway, there was no hesitation and no second thoughts about what she planned to do. Somehow she had to convince Warren to let her stay in Castle's Keep. No matter how angry he got with her, she knew that he knew she belonged there. She was right; he was wrong. The fewer miles she put between herself and him, the better she felt. The stronger she felt. Strong enough, in fact, to win any battle he would try to put up.

  A fight she could manage. His wrath she could live with. She could stand her own against any argument he found. But before any of that came about, she had to get back inside the painting. For the next hour while she drove, she prayed the entire way that she would be able to re-enter that realm.

  It was nearly one o'clock when she reached the cutoff road leading up to the estate. As she pulled into the driveway, she spotted a large van parked under the entry arch. Johana hurried to the front doors and let herself in without knocking first. Quickly, she dashed through the front parlor and into the office where several people were already gathered.

  Tarp and plastic had already been laid out in preparation to seal up the painting. Or at least she hoped they were still in the process of getting ready.

  "NO!"

  Gracie looked up from where she had in been in a conference with two other men who were dressed in painters’ overalls. “Johana!"

  "Please tell me it's not sealed yet. Please!” She tried to say more but her mind had suddenly shut down.

  "They're just starting to put on the first coat,” Gracie said. She detached herself from the workers and walked over to where Johana stood, shuffling from one foot to the other. Placing a hand on the woman's shoulders, she gave her a relieved smile. “I was hoping you would change your mind and come back. They've been here since ten this morning. I tried delaying them as long as I could, but about to give up. Thank you for returning."

  The two women embraced.

  "I tried, Gracie. I tried and tried to talk myself into going back to New York, but I couldn't,” Johana whispered as they parted. “I have to know. I have to find out if.... I don't even know if the painting will let me back in."

  "There's only one way to find out,” the secretary said.

  Peering into the woman's face, Johana nodded, then watched as Gracie ordered the men to take a short break. When they were finally alone, Johana crossed her arms and clutched them tightly.

  "Do you think he'll try to kick me out if I go back?"

  Gracie shook her head. “No, he won't."

  "But he'll probably be furious. Did you know that inside, when he gets mad, the weather turns just as foul as his temper?"

  "He won't get mad if you go back, Johana. That is, if you can get back inside,” Gracie assured her.

  Johana grimaced. “I'm willing to risk it. I just wish I could be as confident as you are."

  She turned to look at the piece of art, unaware of the secretary going over to the big desk and picking up a small sheet of paper. She was too worried to notice anything until Gracie waved the paper under her nose.

  "I found this on the floor this morning, next to the wall. You need to read it."

  Silently, Johana took the paper and stared uncomprehendingly at the writing. It had been written in block print, as Johana knew a lot of prominent men like to do. It took her another moment to focus so she could understand what it said.

  GRACIE,

  I'M CERTAIN BY NOW YOU'VE GOTTEN THE INSTRUCTIONS I GAVE TO JOHANA. BUT JUST IN CASE, I'M ORDERING YOU TO GO AHEAD WITH WHAT WE PLANNED. I WILL BE STAYING INSIDE CASTLE'S KEEP FROM NOW ON. FILE THE MP REPORT AND HAVE THE PAINTING SEALED ASAP.

  YOU HAVE BEEN A WONDERFUL WORK PARTNER AND FRIEND, AND I WILL NEVER FORGET YOU. THANK YOU ON BEHALF OF MY FAMILY AND MYSELF.

  IF YOU SEE OR TALK TO JOHANA, PLEASE LET HER KNOW THAT I WILL NEVER FORGET HER, EITHER. IN FACT, TELL HER THAT THE SHORT TIME SHE WAS HERE WITH ME WILL REMAIN WITH ME FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. IF CIRCUMSTANCES HAD BEEN DIFFERENT, IF I WAS THE KIND OF MAN WHO COULD GIVE HER WHAT SHE DESERVES, I WOULD NOT HAVE HESITATED TO ACCEPT HER OFFER. BUT LIFE HERE IS TOO INSECURE.

  MY ULTIMATE FEAR IS SHE MAY NOT BE ABLE TO ADJUST TO THIS KIND OF REALITY. I WOULD GIVE ANYTHING IF SHE COULD STAY WITH ME, BUT IT WAS NOT MEANT TO BE. SHE ARGUED SHE BELONGED HERE AS MUCH AS I DID. SHE WAS RIGHT.

  ONE DAY MAYBE I'LL FIND ANOTHER WAY OUT. OR MAYBE I'LL FIND A WAY TO CONTACT JOHANA. IF I DO, I'LL LET YOU KNOW.

  TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF AND HAVE A GREAT LIFE, GRACIE. YOU DESERVE IT.

  There was no signature. Johana glanced up from the paper. “I was right? He admitted I was right?"

  Gracie smiled and nodded. “I'm thinking of having
that framed. In all the years I've worked for Bill, I can count on two fingers the number of times I've heard him admit he was wrong. This is the second time. Try to go back in, Johana. For your sake and Bill's, try. Before the sealant is put on the painting and it becomes too late."

  Turning to the wall, Johana slowly walked over until she was nearly touching it. She lifted a hand, but paused just short of the surface. Gracie must have read her mind.

  "If it doesn't work a second time for you, at least you'll know you tried. That's more peace of mind than you'll ever have if you hadn't at least tried."

  "I'm scared."

  "I know. So am I. But I have faith."

  Murmuring one final prayer, Johana squeezed her eyes shut and held out her right hand.

  Held it out ... reached...

  The wall could not have been more than a foot away. Her arm was longer than a foot, but she couldn't feel anything except...

  ...except for something warm and wet pattering across her hand and wrist. Like rain. Rain?

  Her eyes flew open and she stared at the sight of her arm vanishing just below the elbow. A glance over her shoulder proved it wasn't her imagination. Gracie nodded tearfully, letting her know it was all right. Everything was going to be all right from now on.

  "Good luck, Johana. Tell Bill I love him."

  Facing the painting for the final time, Johana stepped inside.

  * * * *

  * * * *

  She was right. It was raining. Warm, fat drops poured out of a dark, woolen sky. Fortunately, the temperature wasn't cool enough to make things totally miserable, but if she stayed out in it any longer than she needed to, there was the distinct possibility she could get the chills. And the last thing she needed right now was a case of walking pneumonia.

  The rock pathway was gone, but that didn't keep her from following the edge of the lake until she got to the church. Thankfully, the narrow trail leading from the church to the castle was still there.

  The rain never ceased or lessened in intensity. Knowing how the weather reflected Warren's emotions, Johana knew what the man was feeling at that moment. He believed the painting was being sealed up as per his instructions. He believed that any chance to be a part of the life he left behind was forever gone. And although he hated being restricted and confined in his home world, the knowledge that he could never return if he ever changed his mind was still painful.