I woke abruptly. It took me a few moments to acclimate myself again, and when I looked at the clock by the side of-the bed, I realized I had slept into the middle of the night. The house was as quiet as a funeral parlor; my curtains had been drawn closed, and only that small, weak lamp in the sitting room was on, casting long, thin pale-yellow shadows over the walls.
My stomach churned and growled, complaining because I had slept right through supper. I pulled myself into a sitting position. Why hadn't Tony woken me to eat? Rye had not come in and left a tray of food here, either.
"Tony?" I called. There was no answer, nor did I hear him stirring about in the sitting room. "Tony?" I raised my voice and waited again, but still there was no response. "Tony!" I screamed.
I expected he would come charging in after that outburst to chastise me for sleeping through supper, blaming it on my excursion over the grounds of Farthy. But he didn't come. All remained quiet, still.
I reached over to turn on the lamp on the night table, deciding that I would get up and out of bed, wheel myself into the corridor to see what was going on and why no one would respond. But after I turned on the light and illuminated the room, I was shocked to discover that my wheelchair was gone. And so was my walker! I was really trapped in my bed.
"You can't do this, Tony," I muttered. "You can't keep me a prisoner here any longer. I'm going to leave. Do you hear me? I'm going to leave in the morning!"
There was no response. I fell back against the pillow, exhausted and overwhelmed once more. I must have dozed of again, because a movement near the bed made my eyes snap open and my heart thump.
Grinding my fists over my eyes, I tried wiping the sleep away. Tony must have returned to my room after I had fallen asleep and turned off my lamp. Even the light from the sitting room seemed dimmer. I could barely make out his silhouette at the foot of the bed, but I recognized his shadowy figure.
"Tony? What are you doing? Why are you moving about in the darkness, and why did you take away my wheelchair and my walker?" I 'demanded.
He didn't respond. He simply stood there, gazing through the darkness at me. "Tony!" I exclaimed, my voice more shrill. "Why don't you answer me? Why are you standing there staring at me like that? You're frightening me!" There was a long moment's pause before he finally did respond.
"Don't be afraid, Leigh," he said in a loud whisper. "What?"
"You shouldn't be afraid. I'm not here to hurt you." He spoke as if he were speaking to a little girl who might be frightened by his sudden appearance.
"Tony, what are you saying?"
"I'm saying I do love you; I do want you. I do need you, Leigh." His voice was a hoarse, .throaty whisper.
"Leigh? I'm not Leigh. I'm Annie. Tony, what's wrong with you. Please . . get me Rye. I want to -
speak to Rye. I'm hungry," I said, nervous and frightened now. "I slept through supper and I'm hungry, I'm sure Rye will be happy to get up and prepare something for me," I babbled, hoping to snap him out of his dream. He sounded and looked like a man who was sleepwalking. "Go wake him. Please."
"She's asleep. She won't know anything," he said, moving around the side of my bed.
"She? Who's asleep?" My heart was pounding harder and harder. I felt as if my lungs were collapsing. it was so hard to catch my breath. My face felt hot, my neck on fire, and my mouth had become terribly dry. I couldn't swallow.
"Not that it matters. She doesn't know what I do at night or where I go. She doesn't even care anymore.
She has her own interests, her own friends." He laughed. "She has herself. She's always had herself and that's always been enough for her, but it's not enough for me, Leigh. You were right." He reached out for my hand. I pulled it back and moved as quickly as I could to the other side of the bed, but the newfound strength I had found in my lower body during the day seemed gone. Fear and shock drove all my energy away. I was beginning to feel numb all over and not just in my legs. I had to bring him to his senses; I had to.
"Tony, I'm not Leigh. I'm Annie! Annie!"
For a long moment he didn't move or say
anything and I thought I had gotten through to him, but then he untied his bathrobe and let it drop to the floor. In the dim light spilling in from the sitting room, I could see that he was completely naked.
Oh no! I thought. He's in a dream, moving through a fantasy, and there's no one here to help me, not even that horrible nurse. I was going to shout for Rye, but then I wondered if I would cause Tony to become violent or even more crazed, and Rye slept in the servants' quarters, so far away, anyway, there was probably no chance he would hear me. My only hope was to talk Tony back to sanity.
"Tony, it's not Leigh; it's not Heaven. It's Annie, Annie. You're making a mistake, a terrible mistake."
"I think I loved you from the moment I set eyes on you," he replied. "Jillian's beautiful. She will always be beautiful, but beautiful like a butterfly. If you touch her, she won't be able to fly and she will fade and die. That kind of beauty belongs locked up in a glass case, to be seen, appreciated, but never loved and experienced like your beauty, Leigh. Jillian's a picture to hang on the wall; you're a woman, a real woman," he added, his voice full of sensuous meaning.
He sat on the bed and reached out for me. I cringed.
"TONY! You're my great-grandmother's
husband. I'm Annie, Heaven's daughter, Annie. You don't realize what you're doing. Please, get off my bed and go. Please," I pleaded, but my pleas fell on deaf ears, ears unable to hear anything but the sounds and words spoken in his imagination.
"Oh, Leigh . . Leigh, my darling Leigh." His hand groped about until he found my left wrist and began to pull me toward him. I tried to resist, but I was so weak and so tired, I could barely put up a struggle. I was sure he was taking that as a form of encouragement. "We'll make love through the night, just as we did before, and if you want, you can call me Daddy."
Call him Daddy? What horrible thing was he suggesting?
Tony's hand was on my shoulder and he was
lowering his face toward mine, bringing his lips to mine. I pulled my head back, but his other hand was on my waist, gripping it tightly. Without the full strength of my lower body, I was at a great disadvantage.
"TONY! STOP! STOP!"
His hand moved up my waist to my breasts and he moaned with pleasure.
"Oh, my Leigh, my Leigh."
I broke free of his grip on my left wrist and swung down at his left hand, catching him on the forearm and driving his fingers from my bosom. The blow shocked him.
"TONY! STOP! I'M ANNIE! AND YOU ARE
DOING A TERRIBLE THING, A THING YOU
WILL REGRET FOREVER!"
My words finally found their target. He froze in a sitting position. To dramatize my resistance, I leaned forward and pushed on his chest with both my hands, driving him back. The effort took all my strength and I collapsed against the pillow.
"What?" he said, as if he heard voices I couldn't hear. "What?"
"Go away," I pleaded in a strained voice. "Go away. Leave me alone."
"What?" He turned and stared into the darkest shadows of the room. Was he imagining someone there? Were one of Rye Whiskey's ghosts calling to him? Perhaps it was the ghost of my great-grandmother, or even the ghost of my grandmother demanding he leave me be. "Oh, my God," he said to himself. "Oh, my God."
He stood up and looked back at me. I waited, my heart pounding. What was going through that twisted and tormented mind? Was he returning to reality or was he taking some other channel through the maze of his madness to find himself on my bed again?
"I'm ,.. I'm sorry," he whispered. "Oh, I'm so sorry. ." He knelt down and scooped up his robe.
Then he quickly put it on, tying the belt snugly.
I watched without speaking, afraid that the sound of my voice might set him back. "I . . . I've got to . . . to go," he said. "Good night."
I held my breath and barely turned my head as he moved away from the bed and out the door. In
a moment he was gone, but my heart didn't stop its racing. I was terrified he would return, and I was just too weak and too overwhelmed to struggle out of bed and crawl out of the suite.
I was sweating so much my nightgown stuck to my skin. I had to get out of this place. I had to convince Drake or Luke or someone to take me away immediately. But Drake was in New York. And what if Luke didn't come? Panicked, desperate, my mind raced like a caged bird. Rye Whiskey! I must get him to help me! Or Troy! Or Parsons! Anybody! Please somebody help me get away from this madman! What had he done to my grandmother to make her run away? I could barely stand to think about it. The only thing that comforted me was the realization that it would soon be morning. I embraced myself as tightly as I could, the way Mommy would hold me to her whenever I had a bad dream and she came to my bed.
And this was more than a bad dream. This was a living nightmare. I was afraid to fall asleep again, afraid that I would awaken once more to Tony naked at my side, but my eyelids grew heavy and I slipped into an exhausted slumber.
"Good morning," Tony sang cheerfully. My eyelids fluttered open and I saw him opening the curtains wide. The bright sunlight turned away each and every shadow. He raised the windows to permit more air, and the curtains began a happy little jig over the windowsill. I didn't lift my head from the pillow.
Instead, I lay there silently, watching him move about the room. He was dressed in a clean, light blue silk robe and looked unbelievably chipper. Was he pretending so I would think that none of what happened last night really happened?
"I'll have your breakfast in a jiffy," he said.
"Being nice to me this morning isn't going to help, Tony. I haven't forgotten last night."
"Last night?" He turned, smiling. "Oh . . last night. You mean when I yelled at you downstairs. I've already explained and apologized for that, Annie. You shouldn't hold grudges. All of us make mistakes."
"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about when you came to my room in the middle of the night," I snapped. I no longer felt any compassion for him. He had to bear responsibility for what he was doing, and one way or another, I was determined to leave the house today.
"What? You had another dream? You poor child. What you are going through." He shook his head, pressing his lips together like a concerned grandfather. "Oh well,, once we get something substantial in your stomach—"
"I want my wheelchair. I'm going downstairs to the phone,"
"Wheelchair? Oh no, Annie, not today. You need at least one day's complete rest after what you've gone through. I"ll bring your breakfast to you in bed today. Won't that be nice?"
"I WANT MY WHEELCHAIR!" I demanded in the strongest voice I had ever turned on him. He stared at me a moment and then started to walk away as if he didn't hear me.
"TONY!"
He didn't turn back, and this time when he left my room, he closed the door.
"YOU CAN'T KEEP ME LIKE A
PRISONER!" I got myself into a sitting position and slowly brought my legs over the side of the bed. I did feel weak and tired, but my determination was strong.
I would leave the room, even if I had to crawl out. I had to get help, get to Rye. I was sure he would help me.
I started to lower my feet toward the floor when Tony came bursting back in again, carrying my breakfast tray.
"Oh no, Annie. You want to sit up with your back to the headboard so I can put the bed table over your legs."
He put the tray down on the night table and took hold of my upper arms, pushing me back and turning me. My feeble resistance had no effect.
"Please," I cried. "Please. Let me up."
"After you eat and rest, I'll see how you are, Annie. That's a promise." He smiled as though we were the best of friends and began to set up my bed table. Then he put my breakfast tray on it and stepped back, the corners of his mouth drawn up in a clownish grin.
He was mad, I thought. Something had
definitely snapped in him last night. There was no point in trying to reach him.
I gazed down at the tray. There was a glass of orange juice and some hot oatmeal with what looked to be honey spread over it. There was the usual dry toast and a glass of low-fat milk. Rye hadn't prepared this breakfast. Tony must have gotten up early and done it all himself. With him standing over me as he was, I thought I might just as well eat and get some energy in my body. I drank the juice and spooned in some of the oatmeal. The toast tasted like a piece of cardboard, but I washed it down with gulps of milk.
He nodded, his face locked in a maddening smile.
After I finished and sat back, he lifted the tray and then removed the table.
"There now," he said, "that should make you feel so much better. It does, doesn't it? Now, do you want me to rub in some body oils?" he asked.
"No," I said as emphatically as I could.
"No? You mean no because you feel much better?" "Yes," I said through my tears. "Please, please, get e my wheelchair."
"After your morning nap, we'll see," he said. He went to the dresser and took out a new red nightgown, another of the ones he had brought to me at the Boston Me orial Hospital. "You should put on a fresh nightgown. I think this one suits you, don't you? I always liked scarlet on you." He brought it to the bed.
I sat there with the covers pulled tightly to my neck.
"Come on, now. A fresh nightgown will make you feel so much better."
I didn't think he would leave me alone until I had put on the red gown, so I took it from him. He stood back to watch me take off the one I was wearing and slip this one over my body. I did it all as quickly as I could.
"Now, doesn't that feel good?"
"Yes," I said, giving him what he wanted. I was even more frightened because instead of feeling awake and energetic as I had hoped I would feel after eating the breakfast, I felt drowsy and tired again. His voice sounded faraway.
"I want . . want . .
"You want to sleep. I know. I expected it. A nice rest." He pulled the blanket up and around me, tucking it in tightly like a straightjacket.
"No . 1.. ."
"Sleep, Annie. Sleep, and you will feel so much better when I return. All those ridiculous nightmares will be gone when you wake up again."
I tried to speak, but I couldn't form the words.
My lips felt sewn shut. In moments I was asleep again, my last conscious thought being he had put a sedative in the breakfast.
The next time I awoke, I was very disoriented. I had no idea what time of day it was. Slowly, in what seemed more like hours than minutes, I managed to get the tightly tucked blanket off me and pulled myself up on the pillow. I lay back, breathing hard, my heart racing.
I saw that it was nearly twelve. My bedroom door was still shut, but the windows were open and a cool, refreshing sea breeze drifted in. I turned to it, longing to get myself outside again, and suddenly, very faintly at first, but stronger and stronger as I focused on it, I heard a familiar voice. It came from below . . . at the front of the house.
"Luke!"
I heard Tony's voice as well.
Concentrating as hard as I could and directing all my strength into my legs, I swung myself over the side of the bed, but my legs gave me no support.
Whatever vitality had been reborn in them was gone.
Something Tony had given me sent my renewed vigor back into hibernation.
"Luke!" I screamed. My voice echoed in the empty room, the sound shut up with me. I let myself fall to the floor, collapsing like a dress that had slipped off a hanger in a closet. I twisted myself around and began a slow struggle toward the window, pulling and tugging the best I could, encouraged by the continued sounds of Luke's voice. I began to make out some words.
"But she insisted I come," he pleaded.
"She's not ready for visitors."
"Why did she call?"
"She didn't; she couldn't have. It must have been a mistake."
"I've driven all this way. Couldn't I see her for just a few moments?" he impl
ored.
"The doctors advise against it."
"Why?"
"Young man, I don't have all day to spend explaining medical procedures to you. It's time for Annie's therapy session, anyway, and she can't have visitors during that time."
"All right, I'll wait out here."
"You are stubborn."
I was only a foot or so from the windowsill. I pressed down to lift my body and reached up as quickly as I could to take hold of it, but I missed and fell forward, smacking my head against the wall. For a moment I was too stunned to do anything but lay there.
"All right, leave, but will you tell her I came?"
Resignation sounded in his voice.
"Of course."
"No," I muttered. "No . . . no . ."
I reached up again, this time getting hold of the sill, and pulled myself toward the open window.
"Thank you."
I heard the front door close. He was leaving; Luke was leaving! Tony had driven him away! My hope! Luke . . I was on my knees, and using both hands, pulled myself up until my face was level with the window.
"LUKE!" I screamed with all my might.
"LUKE! DON'T GO. LUKE, COME UP AND GET
ME. LUKE . . ." I screamed and screamed until my face felt it would burst from the effort and my arms weakened too much to hold me up. Just before I fell back to the floor, I thought I caught a glimpse of Troy standing at the edge of the maze, looking up. But maybe it was something I had only wished to see.
I lay there, the side of my face to the carpet, my body crunched up, crying and moaning for Luke. It was the way Tony found me.
"Oh, poor Annie," he said. "You fell out of bed.
I just knew something like this might happen. It's my fault. I should have fastened the side guards to the bed."
"YOU MONSTER!" I screamed. "How could you send him away? You know how long I have been waiting for him to visit me. You know how important it is to me. How could you do it? How could you be so cruel? I don't care what's wrong with you or how sad and tragic your life has been. That was vicious, terribly vicious! I hate you for this! Go get him. Make him come back. MAKE HIM COME BACK!"
Gates of Paradise (Casteel Series #4) Page 30
