Eye of the Storm

by V. C. Andrews

  Was it my imagination or did I see something else there. something I wanted to see? Could a man ever look at me again and think of me as beautiful? If you saw yourself as being only half a person, surely everyone else would see you the same way.

  He closed his eyes and pulled back quickly like someone who knew he had stepped over some boundary.

  "I guess we should head back to the house. Mrs. Bogart gave strict instructions as to when lunch would be served. That's a woman I don't want to cross."

  "Are you staying for lunch?" I quickly asked.

  "Are you inviting me?"

  If you'd like to stay, you can stay." I said, retreating from any show of feeling. Being wounded so many times in relationships when I was completely healthy made me hesitant. Now I had even more reason to be.

  "That's not much of an invitation. My ego's bruised, but," he added grasping the handles of my chair and starting me around. "I'm starving so I'll bear it."

  He couldn't see the smile on my face as we started back toward the house, but it was there, sitting firmly on my lips like the memory of some wonderful soft kiss.

  .

  I had to believe Austin had at least one ulterior motive to his wanting to be at lunch. He spent most of the time talking about different foods with Mrs. Bogart. He believed the diet I followed was important. I could see she wasn't happy about having her menus challenged or him dictating anything to her. but Austin had an unobtrusive way about him and complimented her on so many different things that by the time lunch was over, she was smiling at him, albeit reluctantly, nodding her head and looking at him with approval.

  "That young man knows his sniff." she told me afterward. "I've seen some pretty poor excuses for therapists in my time. Believe me, it's important to have a good one."

  Austin had left instructions for activities I should follow when he wasn't here. He wanted me on the leg machine for at least ten minutes, three times a day. Mrs. Bogart hovered over me when I got myself from the chair to the machine. but I insisted on doing whatever I could do myself, by myself, Nothing haunted my thoughts as much as Doctor Snyder's warning not to become dependant on anyone. Independence was the key to the doorway of any real recovery. I thought,

  Even if it meant it would take me ten times as long to get something done for myself, I would do it myself. I quickly learned how to get myself out of bed every morning, how to dress myself, and even as painful and as awkward as it was, to put on my own shoes and socks.

  Sometimes. I would get so exhausted. I would fall asleep in my chair, my head down, my arms dangling, and when I woke, either after twenty minutes or an hour. I would ache in new places. Mrs. Bogart retreated, waited in the wings, or sometimes. I think, just stood there outside my doorway. listening. Maybe she was hoping I would scream for her and be more dependent on her. but I wouldn't call her unless it was absolutely necessary. I was still timid about some things, like getting myself in and out of a bathtub and had to have her assist me there.

  Austin was to come every weekday for the first two weeks. It got so I looked forward to his arrival more than anything else. Gradually, he increased my activities. I exercised to his music and grew stronger and stronger. He spent lots of time just going through the basic movements of everyday life, showing me ways to let out of bed easier, move my body better to avoid pressure sores, and how to manipulate my wheelchair to get the most efficient use of it. It took a few attempts. but I was finally able to get myself up the ramp outside.

  During our frequent breaks. Austin would tell me about some of his other clients, two of whom were at a rest home.

  "Both of them still have pretty young minds. There are a lot of similarities between them and young people handicapped in one way or another. I just look past the wrinkles and gray hair and think of them the same as anyone else trying to regain mobility or movement to accompany their youthful mentality. I was thinking that it would be perfect if we all went brain dead first, like some switch..." he said looking away and smiling. "Yes, a switch would be flipped and our bodies would shut down instead of our bodies weakening or sickening and then leaving us..."

  "Looking out of windows?" I suggested.

  "Yeah." His smile became a flag of firm resolution. "I'm going to get you out of here. Rain. You won't be stuck behind any window. You're doing terrific. What do you say tomorrow we try some of that aqua therapy. It's supposed to be close to ninetyfive degrees and sunny. I bet it would be fun."

  "I don't know." I shook my head fearfully.

  "C'mon, take a chance," he urged.

  I laughed.

  "Not much really of a chance for me to take, is it?" I asked. "What do you mean?"

  "I don't have much to risk anymore, right?"

  "Wrong. You've act more to risk. You have all this extra experience and knowledge to hand down."

  "What extra knowledge?" I asked, turning my eyebrows in toward each other.

  "You know how to defeat tragedy," he told me.

  I wasn't sure if everything he was doing was contrived, planned, right down to his smiles and laughs, but for now. I didn't care. It all made me feel too good and hopeful and that was something I wasn't about to surrender, even in the face of deceit.

  "Okay," I said. "We'll go swimming. Or rather, you'll go swimming and I'll be a float."

  "No you won't. You'll see," he said.

  After he left I went through my wardrobe, searching for my bathing suits. I had the one I used as a uniform at Dogwood and I had two others, but they were both two-piece, one so abbreviated it was technically a bikini. I laid them all on the bed and pondered. It would take me hours to try them all on. I thought, but my fear of looking bad was motivation enough to give me the strength,

  Mrs. Bogart looked in on me while I was struggling with the school suit.

  "Why are you putting that on?" she asked and I told her Austin's plan.

  She looked at me askance but didn't say anything. Without waiting, she helped me pull up the suit and zippered it.

  "Thank you," I said. She shrugged and left. I stared in the mirror. My legs looked bony and thin to me and I thought my hips had widened. It brought hot tears to my eyes.

  "What am I doing?" I muttered. "This is stupid. What am I doing?"

  I started to rip the bathing suit off, pulling and tugging at it so viciously that I tore the zipper away from the material on one side. Then I felt my shoulders start to shake and a strange rippling through my stomach. Looking in the mirror. I saw I was crying hysterically. I was just doing it silently.

  Maybe I had been working at my therapy too hard. Maybe I didn't listen to Mrs. Bogart enough and take enough rest time. Maybe I had permitted myself to drift through some world of fantasy in a bubble that finally burst. Whatever the reason. I suddenly felt a deep exhaustion. Both fatigue and depression went to the very bottom of my being, turning me into a limp lump of defeat. Half-naked. I sagged in the chair, devoid of the strength to remove the swimsuit completely and get myself dressed again.

  A low moan began at the base of my throat and began to vibrate to the back of my neck and up behind my head. Suddenly. I had a terrific spasm in my stomach. too. My moan got louder and Mrs. Bogart came running. When she looked at me. I was shaking so hard, the chair was rattling.

  "Okay," she said. "okay. Take it easy." She moved me quickly to the side of the bed and then she helped me out of the chair and under the covers. My teeth were clicking together. I was so chilled. She put another blanket on and then another before she went to call the doctor. Then she returned to tell me I was being taken to the hospital.

  "No!" I cried.

  "The doctor wants you brought in for some test or other. You got to go. Your driver's on his way. Let me get something on you," she said and put a sweatshirt and sweatpants on me while I continued to 'tremble.

  Less then fifteen minutes later. Jake was at my bedside. He looked gray and tired, his face was so drawn. Was it my condition that was making me see him that way?

  "How yo
u doing. Princess?" he asked,

  My trembling had subsided some, but the spasm in my abdomen was still severe.

  "I don't know. Jake. Something happened. I'm sick."

  "Okay, let's get moving," he said. Mrs. Bogart wheeled the chair toward us. but Jake lifted me out of the bed and carried me out of the house in his arms. My head rested against his chest.

  "You can wheel her," Mrs. Bogart said.

  "This is faster," he said.

  "Don't you drop that girl on my watch, hear? I'm not being blamed."

  "Nobody's dropping nobody," he assured her. "Stop worrying and open the door for us." he ordered with firmness. She moved quickly to get ahead of us and do it. Jake carried me out and put me gently into the back of the Rolls. Then he got behind the wheel and started away.

  "I guess Victoria's right about the car," he said, "I should have had it sold and a van out here for you. Sorry, Princess."

  "I don't want a van. I like the Rolls," I muttered. I had my eyes closed. "I want Grandmother Hudson's Rolls."

  At the hospital they put me on a gurney and wheeled me into the emergency room. Tests were run and hours later. Doctor Morton, the physician on call, came to my bedside to tell me I had developed a severe bladder infection.

  "It's not uncommon for people in your condition," he assured me. "We'll clear it up quickly and get you back an your feet."

  I started to laugh and he stared a moment.

  "Back on my feet? Take all the time you need. doctor." That brought a smile to his face.

  "Just an expression," he said.

  "I know, Boy. do I know." I said.

  They took me to a private room and gave me something to help me sleep.

  Late in the morning the next day my eyelids fluttered open and I saw Aunt Victoria gazing at me, her face full of anger, her eyes wide and blazing. When she realized I was looking at her, she cooled and cleared her throat.

  "I'm going to have to fire Jake," she said. "I told him specifically to go out and get that van and what do you think he's been doing? Loitering in the local tavern. I found out that he had to be taken home in a taxi two nights in a row because he was too drunk to drive himself. He was probably drunk when he came for you yesterday.

  "We can't have someone like that for your driver. I don't want someone like that associated with the family name."

  "No," I said, shaking my head vigorously. "He wasn't drunk. He was perfect. Don't you dare fire him. He's not your driver. He's mine ,

  "What's the matter with you? The man's an inebriate. He always was. I told my mother time after time that she should hire herself a decent, well-trained and respectable chauffeur and not someone without any ambition or class."

  "Jake is my best friend in the world," I said. "Don't you even think of saying anything like that to him."

  She saw the resistence in my face and softened her shoulders.

  "I spoke with the doctor. He thinks your physical therapist might be working you too quickly, too strenuously. I've called the firm and asked for an older. more experienced therapist for you."

  "It's not the therapist's fault. It's a common problem for paraplegics. I want Austin."

  "Austin?" she said twisting her mouth into her cheek,

  "I won't cooperate with anyone else. I won't," I assured her. She studied me a moment and then shook her head slowly.

  "You're not developing an attachment to this therapist, are you? That's a dangerous thing. I've been told so by people who know."

  "No," I said too quickly. "I just feel comfortable with him and we are making pro Tess, Call them back and tell them he's all right."

  "We'll see," she said.

  "If you don't, I won't cooperate with you and sign any of your papers," I threatened. "I mean it."

  She stared, her anger firing up her eyes ag.ain before, she quickly quenched the flames and smiled.

  "Don't get yourself so upset. Rain. I was just thinking of what was best for you. If that's the way you want it for now, that's fine. I'll take care of it. What I want you to do is rest and recuperate quickly so you can go home after the weekend. On Tuesday now. I'll be at the house with Grant to help explain some of the things we have to do with the estate. Okay?'

  "Okay," I said, still not trusting her.

  "Let me see to the van at least. I'll do that today myself," she said.

  "Don't sell the Rolls-Royce" I told her.

  She smiled that cold, sharp smile, stretching her lips into thin, pencil lines slashed across her narrow face.

  "All right. We'll keep it for now. It's one of those things that can gain in value if kept up properly anyway," she said, determined to turn every disagreement into to a victory for herself one way or another.

  She rose and patted me gently on the back of my hand.

  "Just get better and don't worry about the other matters. I'll keep in touch with the doctors. Is there anything you want right now?"

  'No.' I said. I closed my eyes. When I opened them, she was gone.

  Later, while I was eating lunch. Austin came to see me.

  "Talk about finding ways to avoid going for a swim," he said smiling, He had a bouquet of red roses for me.

  "Thank you," I said smelling them. He put them in a vase and pulled a chair closer to my bed.

  "This is a minor setback," he said. "Don't let it get to you. You'll just watch your medication and you'll be fine. We'll be back at work in a few days. Don't think that you've gotten away with anything. There are plenty of other days ahead when it will be ideal to go swimming."

  "I'm really not worried about that." I said laughing.

  "My uncle said your aunt was upset with me and wanted me replaced," he said after a moment.

  "I've already spoken to her about that. You're not going to be replaced."

  He smiled.

  "I really don't think anything we've done has anything to do with this. Rain. If I did. I would tell you and I would change the therapy."

  "I believe you. Austin. Please don't pay any attention to my aunt. We don't exactly belong to a mutual admiration society. I'm the relative who was shoved down her throat. We have what you might call a precarious truce."

  "None of that is any of my business," he said quickly.

  "It's all right. I don't mind you knowing more about me. Maybe, if you understand me better, you will change some of the therapy," I said.

  He sat back and I began to tell him my story. I was interrupted only when the nurse came in to give me some medication. The rest of the time, he sat, transfixed, his reactions revealed in the movements of his eyes and the way they brightened and darkened.

  "So that was why you told me you had a stepbrother and a half sister. I thought you were joking."

  "I wish I were," I said.

  My eyelids felt so heavy that no matter how hard I tried. I couldn't keep them from shutting.

  "I'd better let you rest." I heard him say. "I'll check up on you and as soon as you're able, we'll start the therapy again."

  My head nodded as if a powerful invisible hand had moved it. Then, I was asleep.

  .

  On Sunday, when they wheeled me out of the hospital. Jake stood by a brand-new van, equipped with an electric lift. All they had to do was wheel me onto it and it brought me up so I could wheel into place in the van. It seemed quite luxurious for what it was.

  "Victoria wasn't happy about the deal I got. I put in a lot of options," he added in a whisper. "but there wasn't much she could do about it. Your attorney took care of it, and guess what," he continued as he got behind the wheel. "It's equipped so when the time comes, you can drive it yourself"

  "What? How?"

  "This seat comes out and your wheelchair goes right here," he explained. "All the controls are finger controls, even the brakes. It's easy. You'll be going wherever you want in no time. Princess."

  I was impressed and a bit frightened at the prospect, but on top of a beautiful, bright summer day, the promise of a more fulfilling future reinvigora
ted me.

  However. Mrs. Bogart greeted me with a whole new list of restrictions and orders.

  "You got sick because you tried to do to much too fast on your own," she said. "Believe me. I've seen it before. Maybe now you'll listen to people who know more."

  I was too happy about being out of the hospital to permit even her sour face to upset me.

  Just before I settled in for an afternoon rest, she remembered I had received a letter and brought it to me. It was from my father. The news of my accident and injury greatly disturbed him, and as he explained, added tremendously to his personal frustration.

  I feel so helpless because I can do nothing for you not even when you need a parent more than ever, need a family more than ever. How strong a person you must be to fight all this alone, now that you explained what has happened to Megan, too.

  I can only promise you that as soon as I have the opportunity, I will come to America to see you. Lemma feels terrible about it all and wishes you could be brought here. She a wonderful person. I'm sure you are wondering why someone who has no blood relationship to youwould be so concerned and caring. Perhaps love among people who have no obligation to love is the strongest love after all.

  Please, please write to me and keep me up on your progress.

  Love,

  Dad

  Tears threatened to wash the words into oblivion. I folded the letter neatly and put it in my nightstand drawer. I would take it out and reread it. It was the next best thing to hearing his voice and seeing him.

  What worried me was that I hadn't heard a word from Roy. By now he had received my letter and knew what had happened to me. It was impossible to believe he would have decided to have nothing more to do with me because of it. although I wouldn't blame him. I almost wished that were true for his sake.

  "No one called me while I was in the hospital. Mrs. Bogart?" I asked her when she brought me some cold water with which to take my medication.