Gates of Paradise (Casteel Series #4)

by V. C. Andrews

  Eventually you'll be able to come to the dining room table for dinner and sit where your mother used to sit.

  And surely you want to go about the grounds."

  "When you're ready, miss," the man said, "just press that red button on the right arm and it will begin to lower you. The black one will raise you."

  "Go ahead," Tony cheered.

  With trepidation I pressed the red button and closed my eyes. "Go for the tall ones," Luke was telling me in my mind. "You can do it, Annie. You and I are special. We overcome the hardest and greatest obstacles Fate puts before us. We do. Try harder. Make it work."

  How I wished he were the one giving me the encouragement and holding my hand. With Luke beside me, I wouldn't be afraid and I would try anything if it could mean a return to full health and strength.

  The chair jerked forward and began a slow

  descent down the stairway. The three men followed along closely as I traveled downward, the mechanism humming smoothly.

  "Isn't it great?" Tony asked. I opened my eyes and nodded. The chair shook a little, but other than that, it did feel very secure, and it was nice moving down these stairs without being a burden to anyone.

  "How does it know when to stop?"

  "Oh, it's been adjusted for that, miss," the man said, and sure enough, as it reached the foot of the stairway, it came to a soft halt. Parson had brought my wheelchair along and set it up beside the mechanical chair.

  Just at that moment Drake popped out of the entry from where he hd been watching the entire event, cheering and clapping.

  "Hooray for Spaceship Annie!"

  "Drake Ormand Casteel, how could you hide down here instead of being with me when I needed support?" I complained.

  "That was just it," Drake explained. "Tony wanted you to do this without anyone assisting, so you would become independent that much faster."

  "You're two conspirators," I chastised playfully.

  Secretly I was very proud of myself and happy Tony had made me do most of it myself. I looked behind Drake. "But where is Luke? Is he hiding, too?"

  Drake's face soured. He looked at Tony, whose face was as solid as granite, his eyes a cold, dark blue, like two sapphire stones.

  "He went on some orientation picnic arranged for all the freshmen."

  "Picnic?" I looked back at Tony. "But I thought you left a message about the service, Tony."

  "I did, with whoever answered the phone at the dorm. At least, my secretary did. She said there was a lot of noise in the background and it sounded as if they were having a big party."

  "Didn't you call him yesterday, Drake? After you left here?" I felt my heart sinking, an empty, hollow, cold cavern replacing its warm pocket. How could Luke not be here? How could he not have responded?

  "I called early this morning, but they had all already left."

  "I don't understand."

  "Just a mix-up, probably," Drake said. "He never got the original message and left not knowing about the service."

  "How could there be a mix-up? This isn't some freshman dance. Whoever took the message must know how serious it is. He wouldn't be so casual as to forget or misplace it. No one can be that callous."

  "He's not here," Drake said softly.

  "But he would want to be here!" I cried. "It's .

  it's a service for his father, too!" I felt myself losing control. All of it was closing in on me at once—the accident, my parent's deaths, my injuries, Luke's absence. I had the greatest urge to scream and scream and scream. "I don't understand!" I repeated in a shrill voice.

  Both Tony and Drake looked stricken. The

  expressions on their faces forced me to get hold of myself I didn't want to become hysterical and cause a postponement of the service. That was too important to me. Parson and the technician responsible for the mechanical chair quickly excused themselves and went out.

  I pulled myself up stiffly in the wheelchair. "I'm all right." I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand.

  "I'm all right," I lied. "Luke will just have to make a special trip."

  "Drake, why don't you wheel Annie to the front and wait there while I fetch Miles to bring the limo around." Tony patted my hand and rushed off. Drake wheeled me to the front door. Just as he opened it, Mrs. Broadfield came up beside me, appearing as quietly and as-quickly as a ghost.

  Drake moved me out and into the pool of

  sunshine that spilled over the portico and steps. The day did not reflect my sad and tragic mood. It was as though even Nature refused to pay attention to my feelings. Instead of dull-gray clouds, starch-white cotton-candy puffs scattered across the aqua sky. The breeze that brushed across my face and made some of my strands of hair dance over my forehead was gentle and warm. Everywhere I looked, birds fluttered and sang. The strong, fresh scent of newly mowed lawns perfumed the air.

  All around me was life and happiness, not death and sadness. The sight of such a bright and wonderful day made me feel even more alone. No one could understand why, no one but Luke. If only he were here now, holding my hand. We would look at each other and he would nod knowingly. His fingers would entwine with mine, and I wouldn't feel as if the world were conspiring to make my pain even sharper. I'd feel able to fight back. The need and the desire to become a part of it all again would be overwhelming.

  More than anything, I would want to walk.

  Desperately trying for that mood and strength, even without Luke's presence, I pressed my hands against the arms of the chair and willed my feet to press down on the footrests, but the muscles in my legs weren't cooperative. There was only a slight sensation traveling up through my calves and thighs.

  Disappointed, I sat back.

  Miles drove the limo as close to the steps as he could. Tony and he stepped out just as the Reverend Carter appeared. He was a tall, lean man with sharp features and graying blond hair. Tony shook hands with him and spoke with him a moment and then the two of them, Miles following, came up the steps.

  "This is my great-granddaughter Annie."

  "God bless you, my dear," the reverend said after taking my hand into his. "You're a strong and courageous child."

  "Thank you."

  Tony signaled to Miles and Drake to carry me, chair and all, down the stairs to the car. I saw Rye Whiskey, dressed in an old black suit, standing by.

  His thin gray hair was slicked back and brushed flat over his head. His smile and his comforting and loving, soft eyes warmed my chilled heart.

  We went through the great gate and turned right to the Tatterton family cemetery. As we drew closer and closer to the large marble monument, my heart ached, feeling like a small fist tightening and tightening until it could tighten no more. A small cry escaped from my throat. Drake took my hand and squeezed it tightly. When the car stopped, Drake opened the door and reached back in to guide me to the awaiting chair.

  He and Miles lifted me and placed me softly into it.

  Then Drake turned the chair and I came face-to-face with the tall stone that read:

  .

  STONEWALL

  LOGAN ROBERT HEAVEN LEIGH

  BELOVED HUSBAND BELOVED WIFE

  .

  I stared in awe, in disbelief, the reality of my parents' death never as vivid as it was at this moment, but my body did not soften and wither like some fragile flower. I was as hard and as cold as the very stone I faced.

  The reverend walked up to the monument, he opened his Bible and began the service. When his words reached my ears, my brain channeled them off to some archive in the library of my memory. I saw his mouth moving and I saw him turn the pages, but I didn't hear a word.

  Instead I heard the words I knew Mommy

  would utter if she could be beside me now.

  "Annie," she would say, "you must get strong again. You can get strong again. You must not become some weak and dependent creature withering away in the shadows of Farthy. If you do, you will pale and die like some flower kept out of the sunlight."

  "My
Annie," Daddy would continue, "I wish we could be there beside you to give you the love and support we have given you all your life, but we can't. I know that you have it in you to stand on your own two feet once more, and once more carry on the work your mother and I began in Winnerrow."

  "We're with you, Annie; we're part of you."

  "Mommy," I whispered.

  But I couldn't deny the reality of what all this meant. It meant the end of the world as I had known it. I had come here to say good-bye to Mommy and Daddy, but I was saying good-bye to myself as a little girl, too. Good-bye to the tinkle of music boxes and the laughter of a family together, close, eager to see each other every day. Good-bye to hugs and kisses and words of encouragement. Good-bye to Mommy's comforting embrace whenever the world seemed hard or cruel or cold. Good-bye to Daddy's laughter ringing through the house and chasing away the worries that sometimes come into our lives.

  Good-bye to Sunday dinners when we were all talking around the table. Good-bye to all the holidays, the gathering around the Christmas tree to open presents, the delicious Christmas dinner. Good-bye to Thanksgiving dinners with relatives and guests contentedly stuffed. Good-bye to singing around the piano and playing charades. Good-bye to looking for Easter eggs and munching on chocolate rabbits.

  Good-bye to Sunday walks and vacations on the seashore.

  Good-bye to staying up New Year's Eve just to kiss Mommy and Daddy and wish each other a happy new year. Good-bye to all the reasons for all the holidays. Good-bye to all the presents and pretty gift wraps and ribbons and surprises. Good-bye to everything that made life delightful and exciting and warm.

  I shook my head in disbelief. I was like a ghost of myself, empty, bereft of feeling, floating aimlessly.

  Even the reverend's final words seemed hollow, lost in the wind.

  "Please join me in the psalm. "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want . ."

  I buried my face in my hands and felt Drake's hand on my shoulder. As soon as the psalm was completed and the reverend had closed his Bible, Drake turned my chair toward the limo. I fell back and closed my eyes.

  "Let's get her upstairs and into her bed quickly,"

  Tony muttered. The chair was pushed faster.

  Miles opened the door and he and Drake lifted me into the backseat. I was as limp as a wet tissue. I felt Tony slip in on the other side of me, and I felt the limo turned about.

  I opened my eyes, intending to look back at the monument one more time as we left the cemetery, but something in the nearby forest caught my eye instead.

  It was a quick movement, a shadowy figure coming to life, stepping through the sunlight as it rushed back into the protective darkness of the woods.

  It was he, the tall, lean figure I had seen from my window!

  Like a guest everyone had forgotten to invite, he had appeared in the background to share the ceremony of mourning, quietly, unnoticed, and then he had disappeared so quickly. Indeed, no one but I seemed to have noticed.

  I took a sedative and rested. I awoke late in the afternoon. The great house was so quiet, and the sedative had put me into so deep a sleep, it took me a few moments to realize where I was and what had happened. At first it all seemed like some dream, some long nightmare; but the sight of my waiting wheelchair and the medicines, towels, and lotions lined up on the long vanity table were evidence that this was, unfortunately, no dream.

  When I gazed out the windows, I saw that the cottony clouds had flattened into a dark gray blanket, making the afternoon dismal and dark, a fitting aftermath to the morning's ceremony. I pulled myself up into a sitting position and poured myself some water from the blue plastic jug on the night table beside the bed. The stillness around me was puzzling.

  Where was Mrs. Broadfield? Tony? Had Drake gone back to Boston?

  I rang the little bell hung from one of the posts and waited. No one came. I rang again, this time a little longer and louder. Still no one came. Had they expected me to sleep longer? Most likely, I thought, but now I was hungry. I had slept through lunch and it was closing in on dinnertime.

  "Mrs. Broadfield?" I called.

  Strange that she wasn't just outside my door.

  She always came running on a moment's notice. The continued silence frustrated me. Confined to a bed, always dependent upon others . . . it made me angry.

  Driven by this frustration and anger, I leaned over and stretched out until I could grasp the arm of my wheelchair. I would show them all. Why was the chair left so far from my bed, anyway? I wondered. It was almost as if Mrs. Broadfield wanted me trapped.

  I pulled the chair close to the bed and

  unfastened the right arm. I had never done this before, but I felt sure I could do it now. Sliding myself to the side of the bed, I had to pull my legs along like two long leaden weights.

  I locked the chair wheels so it wouldn't move, took a deep breath, and pulled myself of the bed.

  First I was on my left side on the chair; then I turned my body so I was on my back. After that I pushed down on the arms of the chair, lifting my uncooperative lower body slowly until I was in the sitting Buoyed by this success, I realized I could lift my legs by grabbing under my thighs. My feet dangled stupidly below. I swung them onto the footrests and finally sat back, exhausted. But I had done it! I was not as helpless as they would all make me think! I closed my eyes and waited for my thumping heart to calm.

  Once again! listened for sounds from without, but heard only a deep silence. I inhaled deeply and released the wheels so I could move myself forward to the doorway. Once there, I paused and looked about the sitting room. There was no sign of Mrs.

  Broadfield, no open magazines or books, nothing.

  I wheeled myself through the sitting room to the corridor. The air was cooler out there; the lights were still dim and the shadows long and dark. I started to turn left to head for the stairway, where I expected I would stop and call down, but I was tempted to explore on my own, to employ my newly realized mobility for adventure. Where was Tony's bedroom? I wondered. Wasn't it down this way? Maybe he was in it. Perhaps the morning's activities had tired him out as well. Using that as an excuse to quiet my frightened heart, I wheeled myself on. Every once in a while I paused to listen, but heard nothing.

  I continued on until I reached an opened double doorway. I could see that the design of this suite was much like the one I was in. A single lamp was illuminated, but when I pushed ahead and entered, I saw no one.

  "Tony? Anyone here?"

  Whose suite was this? I wondered. It didn't look like it would be Tony's. There was something feminine about it. Then I caught the strong scent of jasmine. My curiosity was like a magnet, much stronger than caution, pulling me along, drawing me forward to the second entryway, the doorway of the bedroom.

  I wheeled myself into it and stopped. On the chair before the white marble vanity table was draped an ivory float trimmed with peach lace. The table itself was crowded with powders and skin creams, lotions and bottle after bottle of perfume. What drew my attention quickly, however, was the blank oval of bare wall. The glass in the mirror that had once hung over this vanity table had been removed. Why?

  When I turned to the left, I saw that the same was true for the wall mirror and the mirror that had been on the closets. Both were only frames. Steeped in curiosity now, I wheeled farther in and saw the red satin shoes beside the king-size canopy bed, a bed almost the duplicate of mine. Over the bed had been laid a cherry-red crinoline party dress with puffed sleeves and a frilly collar. The quilt was turned down on the bed the way it would be had someone just gotten out of it.

  Farther to the right I saw that the dresser drawers had been left open. It looked as though someone had come into the room and rifled through those drawers, searching madly for some precious hidden valuable. Undergarments and stockings dangled over the sides.

  On top of the dressers and tables jewelry boxes lay open. I saw glittering necklaces, bejeweled earrings, diamond and emerald bracelets scattered
everywhere randomly. I felt I was definitely intruding on someone and began to back myself out. Suddenly I had backed myself into a wall. But when I turned around, I looked into the hot eyes of Mrs. Broadfield.

  Her face was blazing red. She looked as if she had been running at full speed. Her usually perfectly brushed-back hair had rebellious strands popping up like ruptured piano wires. Because I was seated so low and looking up at her, her nostrils seemed larger, bull-like. Her bosom heaved with her heavy breathing, rising and falling against her tight, aseptically white nurse's uniform. The buttons looked as if they would pop and she would explode right before my eyes. I actually began to wheel myself away, but she reached down and seized the arm of the chair, preventing any more movement.

  "What do you think you are doing?" she demanded in a harsh, threatening voice.

  "Doing?"

  "I came into your room and discovered you weren't in your bed, the wheelchair gone." She took a deep breath and pressed her hand against her lower throat. "I called for you, knew you weren't downstairs, and then began searching the corridor, never expecting you had gone down this way. I couldn't imagine . . . I thought for sure something had happened to you in one of the rooms."

  "I'm fine."

  "You don't belong down here," she said, getting behind my chair and wheeling me out quickly. "Mr.

  Tatterton specifically asked that no one come down here. He's going to blame it on me, think that I brought you," she said, coming out of the suite and looking carefully up and down the corridor before preceding any farther.

  I thought she was being ridiculous, sneaking me back to my suite like this. "Tony surely wouldn't mind my coming down this side of the corridor," I exclaimed, but she didn't slow down. It was obvious she was petrified she would lose her position.

  "If he finds out, I'll tell him it was all my doing, Mrs. Broadfield."

  "That won't matter. I'm responsible for you. I step out just for a few moments to take a short walk and get some fresh air and look what happens. You wake up, drag yourself into the wheelchair, and go wandering off through the house."