"It doesn't matter. Let me surprise you each time." He stepped closer so he could lean over to kiss my forehead, and for a moment his hand lingered on my shoulder. "Thank God you're going to be all right, Annie. Thank God you're going to be with me and that I can do something to help you." He kept his face so close to mine, I felt his cheek graze my own. Then he kissed me again and left the room.
Mrs. Broadfield took my blood pressure and washed me down with a sponge and warm water.
Afterward I lay there in a kind of daze with my eyes open, fighting back any tears. Finally I closed my eyes and dozed off.
Drake came to visit me the next day. I was so happy to see him. I was in a strange place, far from home, but I had family nearby, and family was one thing I always cherished.
He came to my bed and kissed me, hugging me gently, as if I were made of eggshells and he thought I might crack.
"You have some color in your cheeks today, Annie. How do you feel?"
"Very tired. I keep drifting in and out of sleep, in and out of dreams, and whenever I wake up, I have to tell myself where I am and what has happened. My mind won't hold onto the truth. It keeps throwing it out like last week's meat loaf."
He smiled and nodded and stroked my hair.
"Where have you been? What have you been doing?" I asked quickly, anxious to see how he had been handling the tragedy and his own sorrow.
"I decided to stay at school and finish the semester."
"Oh?" Somehow, I thought the whole world had stopped working for a while. Even the sun had refused to appear. Night had a tight grip on the earth.
How could anyone work or live or be happy ever again?
"My teachers wanted to excuse me, but I thought if I didn't keep my mind on something, I would go mad with grief," he told me after he had pulled a chair up to the side of the bed. "I hope you don't think me too hard or indifferent for doing that, but I couldn't just sit around. It was too painful."
"You did the right thing, Drake. I'm sure it's what Mommy and Daddy would have wanted you to do."
He smiled, grateful for my understanding, but I believed what I was saying was true. No one handled hardship as well as Mommy could. Daddy always said she had a spine of steel. "CA-steel," he joked. What wouldn't give to hear one of his jokes now. "How wonderful that it's all behind you, Drake. No more studying for a while."
"But I'm not returning to Winnerrow. It will be too painful for me to return to that big empty house right now, and anyway, Tony Tatterton has made me a wonderful offer for the summer mouths."
"What sort of offer?" I asked, curious at how quickly Tony Tatterton had taken up the management of our lives,
"He's going to let me work as a junior executive at his offices, can you imagine? I'm not even out of college yet, but he's going to let me have some responsibility. He's even set me up with an apartment here in Boston. Doesn't that sound exciting and wonderful?"
"Yes, it does, Drake. I'm happy for you." I looked away. I knew it wasn't fair to Drake, but happiness seemed out of place at this moment. The whole world should be in mourning for me and my parents, I thought. The dark veil that had fallen over everything still clung to me. No matter how blue the sky really was, it would be gray to me.
"You don't sound too happy. Is it because of the medicine you're taking?"
"No." We stared at one another for a moment and I saw the sadness creeping back into his face, bringing shadows over his eyes and making his lips quiver. "No," I continued. "I've just been thinking a lot about Tony. I can't help wondering why he has come rushing into our lives and why he's being so wonderful to us. For the longest time, our family treated him as if he didn't exist. You'd think he'd hate us. Don't you wonder, too?"
"What's there to wonder about? A terrible, terrible tragedy has occurred and he . . . he's part of the family in a real way. I mean, he was married to your great-grandmother and my step-sister's grandmother, and he has no one. His younger brother committed suicide, you know," Drake added in a deep whisper. Mrs. Broadfield was walking in and out of the room.
"Younger brother? I don't remember any mention of him."
"Well, Logan once told me something about him. Seems he had always been a very introverted man who kept to himself and lived in a cottage on the other side of the maze instead of in that big, wonderful house."
"Cottage? Did you say a cottage?"
“Yes.”
"Like the one my mother had in her room, the toy-model music box she gave me for my birthday?"
"Well, I never thought about that, but yes. I suppose so. Why do you ask?"
"I keep dreaming about it, remembering it and the music and the times she let me look at it when I was a little girl. Sometimes, when I awaken from one of my short naps, I think Pm back home and I look around for my things, listen for Mommy's or Daddy's voices, think about calling for Mrs. Avery, and then .
it comes back to me, rushes over me like a cold, dark wave, almost drowning me in the horrible, ugly truth.
Am I going crazy, Drake? Is that part of what's happening to me, but no one wants to tell me? Please, you tell me! I've got to know!"
"Your mind's confused by all that's happened, that's all," he said reassuringly. "Memories are jum-
bled. It's understandable, considering what you've been through. You should have heard the gibberish you were saying when I visited you in Winnerrow."
He smiled and shook his head.
"What gibberish?" I was frightened for a moment. Had Drake eavesdropped on my most secret thoughts? Thoughts about Luke?
"All sorts of silly stuff. Don't worry about it,"
he said, waving the topic away. "And don"t worry about how you're going to be treated or about being alone. I'll be nearby all summer, and I can come visit you at Farthinggale Manor on weekends. You're my big responsibility now, Annie, and I mean to take good care of you. But I've got to develop my career objectives and be on my own, too. independence is in my blood. I'm not looking for any handouts from Tony Tatterton. earn what I get and work my way up,"
he said proudly.
He went on and on about working for Tony and what it could mean for him. His words ran together and I lost track of what he was saying. After a while he saw I wasn't listening. My eyes kept closing.
"Here I am, putting you to sleep, and I just keep on and on," he said and laughed. "Maybe they ought to hire me to help with the insomniacs."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Drake. I didn't mean not to listen. I heard most of what you said and—"
-It's all right. I've probably stayed too long anyway." He stood up.
"Oh no, Drake! I'm so glad you're here!" I cried.
"You need your rest if we expect you to recuperate. I'll come see you again soon. That's a promise. Bye, Annie," he whispered as he leaned over to kiss my cheek. "Don't worry. You'll always have me nearby."
"Thank you, Drake." It was reassuring to know that he would be close, but I couldn't help wishing that Luke would be nearby, too, that somehow he could stay with me at Earthy and help me to recuperate. Maybe then my life wouldn't be as different from what it was back at Winnerrow. I was already dreaming about Luke and I sitting in the bigger gazebo at Farthy, about Luke pushing me about in a wheelchair or sitting at my bedside reading to me as I rested.
The moment Drake left, Mrs. Broadfield ap-
proached the bed and pressed the button to raise me into a sitting position.
"It's time for some nourishment," she announced.
I closed my eyes to keep the room from
spinning, but I didn't complain this time. More than anything, now, I wanted to get well as fast as I could and get out of this hospital where I was dependent on someone for my food, for my bodily necessities, for my every personal need. And I wanted, more than anything else, to get myself well enough to be taken out to the site of my parents' graves.
I had yet to say good-bye.
SEVEN
Season of Darkness
.
Tony was true
to his promise: everytime he visited me, he brought a different surprise. He came twice a day, once in the late morning and once in the early evening. At first be brought boxes of candy and armfuls of flowers; then he simply had vases of fresh roses delivered every day. The fourth time he visited, he brought me a bottle of jasmine perfume.
"I hope you like it," he said. "It was your great-grandmother's favorite."
"I remember my mother wore this scent sometimes. Yes, I love it. Thank you, Tony."
I sprayed some on immediately, and when he inhaled the scent, his eyes turned glazed and distant for a few moments. I saw him drift in and out of a recollection. What a complex man he was, and how much like my mother! How soft and caring and very like a little boy, and yet how strong and authoritative he could be! Like a child on a swing, he went back and forth from one personality to the next. A word, a scent, a color would drop him into the past, sink him into a pool of memories. And then, in the next moment, he emerged bright, keen, alert, ready to take charge.
Maybe we weren't so unalike. How often had my mother or father come upon me to find me in a melancholy mood. The simplest things sometimes made me sad: a lone bird on a willow-tree branch, the sound of a car horn in the distance, even the laughter of little children. Suddenly I would find myself lost in my own heavy thoughts, and then, just as suddenly, I would step out of the shadows and return to the sunlight, unable to explain why I had been sad. Once, my mother found me with tears streaming down my cheeks. I was sitting in the living room, staring out at the trees and blue sky.
"Why are you crying, Annie?" she asked, and I looked at her with confusion at first. Then I touched my cheeks and felt the warm drops.
I couldn't explain why the tears had burst forth.
It just happened
The next time Tony arrived at the hospital, his chauffeur, a man called Miles, accompanied him to carry several boxes. Tony directed him to place them on the table beside the bed. He opened box after box containing different silk nightgowns. The last box held a crimson silk robe.
"It was a color that looked wonderful on your mother." His eyes were bright with his recollection. "I still remember a wonderful crimson dress and jacket I bought her when she attended the Winterhaven School for Girls."
"Mother wasn't happy there," I said, interrupting his pleasant memory. "She said the other girls treated her mercilessly, and even though they were rich girls, they were not as compassionate and kind as poor people in the Willies could be."
"Yes, yes, but it built her character to contend with them. What strong character she had!
Winterhaven was and still is a highly academic school. They make their students work, and they supply them with intelligent teachers. I remember telling your mother that if she reached the top of their academic lists, she would be taken to teas and meet the people who really counted in Boston society. But you're right; she didn't like the people she met there.
Oh well," he added, moving off the topic quickly, "at least you'll be the best-dressed patient in the hospital."
I wanted him to talk more about the years my mother lived at Farthinggale Manor, but I thought it best to leave that until I was actually there myself.
When one of the Pink Ladies—sweet, elderly women in pink aprons who volunteered to do charity work at the hospital—came by with the mail the next day, she had a small stack of get-well cards for me from some of my friends back in Winnerow, from my teachers, from Mrs. Avery and Roland Star, as well as cards from Drake and Luke. I asked Mrs. Broadfield to tape them all on my wall. I saw she wasn't happy about it, but she did it anyway.
The day after his card arrived, Luke and my aunt Fanny came to visit. Because I had a private room, they could come any time. My door was open, so I could hear Aunt Fanny coming down the hospital corridor. I probably would have been able to hear her even if the door had been closed. She and Luke stopped first at the nurse's station.
"We're here to see ma niece," she bellowed.
"Annie Stonewall."
I couldn't even hear the nurse's response, she spoke so low, but Aunt Fanny didn't take a hint.
"Well, why are ya private rooms so far away from the elevata? If ya payin' more, ya should get the convenience. This way, Luke."
"My aunt's coming," I warned Mrs. Broadfield, who sat like a statue of stone by the door and read the latest issue of People magazine. Tony had sent up dozens of the latest magazines that morning, and Mrs.
Broadfield had organized them by the windowsill. My room looked like a library. Some of the regular nurses came by and asked if they could borrow this or that during their breaks. Mrs. Broadfield permitted them to, but she wrote down each and every one of the names next to the name of the magazine on a little pad.
"Just remember where you got them," she warned.
She shifted in her seat when Aunt Fanny's
footsteps grew louder. I could tell from the clickity-clack that she was wearing high heels and was all dolled-up for this visit. She stepped into my doorway wearing a wide-brim panama hat with a black velvet sash, a short-sleeved black denim jacket and tan demin skirt over a small striped tank shirt. Naturally, the skirt hugged her hips.
Despite the way she lived and the things she said and did, I had to confess my aunt Fanny was a very attractive woman, especially when she dressed fashionably. It was no wonder young men buzzed around her like bees around a hive.
Luke came in right behind her. He wore a
simple blue cotton short-sleeve shirt and jeans, but I could see he had taken extra care with his hair. He was so proud of his rich, dark hair. Other boys, envious boys, teased him because he gave it so much attention, never allowing a strand out of place.
Mrs. Broadfield stood up as soon as Aunt
Fanny entered the room. She backed away as if she didn't want to chance rubbing elbows, and slapped her magazine on the sill.
"Annie, dear!" Aunt Fanny rushed over to my bed and threw her arms around me.
Mrs. Broadfield headed for the doorway.
"Don't hurry, honey," Aunt Fanny responded. I nearly laughed aloud when Fanny turned back to me, her eyes wide, her lips curled as if she had just swallowed sour milk.
Luke came up on the other side of my bed,
looking timid and out of place.
"How are you, Annie?"
"A little better, Luke. I can sit up without getting dizzy, and I've begun to eat solid foods."
"That's wonderful, honey. I jist knew once they gotcha inta a fancy place like this, they'd have ya up an' about in no time." Fanny peered down at me.
"That glum-faced nurse treatin' ya okay?"
"Oh yes, Aunt Fanny. She's very efficient," I reassured her.
"Looks it. I guess ya gotta have someone like that ta count out the drops'a medicine properly, only she'd be enough to keep someone in a coma."
"Everyone at school sends regards to you, Annie, and sends their condolences," Luke interjected, trying to steer the conversation away from Fanny's insults.
"Thank them for me, Luke. And thank them for the cards. I just loved your get-well card." I nodded toward the wall.
"Thought you would." He beamed.
"Where's the card I sent ya?" Aunt Fanny demanded after she perused the cards on the wall. "You sent a card, Aunt Fanny? When?"
"Days ago. I spent a lotta time pickin' out the best one, too. And I know I put a stamp on it, Luke, so don't accuse me'a forgittin'," she added quickly, anticipating Luke's theories.
"Maybe it will be here tomorrow, Aunt Fanny."
"And maybe that dreadful nurse threw it out before ya got it," she said, sneering.
"Oh, Aunt Fanny, why would she do that?"
"Who knows. She didn't like me the moment she set her eyes on me, and I didn't like her much neither. I don't trust her as far as I could kick her."
"Aunt Fanny!"
"Ma," Luke warned.
"All right," she mumbled.
"All set for graduation, Luke?" I asked, trying to sound cheerful.
I would miss my own graduation.
"Three days to go." He ran his forefinger over his throat to suggest it would be a disaster. "This is the first time I'll be doing something really important without you at my side encouraging and supporting me, Annie."
It was wonderful to hear him tell me I was as important to him as I hoped I would always be, but I knew he would do well even though I wasn't beside him. There were few young men his age as capable as he was when it came to a challenge or a responsibility.
Our teachers loved it when he volunteered to do something, because they knew they didn't have to be on his back the way they had to with most teenage boys.
"You're going to do fine, Luke. I just know you will. I wish I could be there to hear it," I said, my eyes telling him just how much I wished it.
"He keeps makin' the speech ta the trees in the back of the house, but I ain't heard no applause yit,"
Fanny interjected. Luke scowled. He was growing impatient with her and so was I. "Well, I'll tell ya this, Annie. If those snobs in Winnerrow don't give Luke a standin' ovation—"
"Ma, I asked you—"
"He's only worried I won't behave and give them snooty people somethin' more ta talk about," she explained. Then she paced around, her voice growing louder as she worked herself up. "Luke, git me that chair over there, the one Annie's nurse was layin' eggs on."
I looked to the door quickly to see if Mrs.
Broadfield had returned and overheard any of this.
She had apparently decided to stay away until my aunt left.
Luke brought the chair over for her and she sat down, taking her hat off carefully and placing it at the foot of my bed. She had her hair pinned back neatly. I did think there was something different about her, a new, more serious look in her blue eyes. She fixed her gaze on me intently for a moment, pressing her lips together, and then took my hand.
"Annie, honey, I've been doin' a lot of thinkin'
lately, nothin' but thinkin'. Right, Luke?"
"That's all she's been doing," Luke said sarcastically. Aunt Fanny saw the way we were looking at one another.
Gates of Paradise (Casteel Series #4) Page 9
