Casteel 04 Gates of Paradise (27 page)

"Good. Now don't be afraid. Move your legs forward. Let go of the arms of the chair."
"I can't help being afraid. If I should fall . . ."
"You won't fall. I won't let you, Annie. Walk to me, walk to me," he chanted, holding his hands out just far enough away so that it would take one or two steps to reach him. "Walk to me . . come to me, Annie."
Maybe it was that plea, something in the sound of his voice so similar to the voice in my own dreams calling me out of the darkness and into the light, that gave me the will and the strength to attempt it. Whatever it was, it was enough. I felt my trembling right leg move just a little bit forward, the foot barely lifting from the floor. My left leg followed suit.
It was a step! A step!
I took one more and then my body failed me. It softened with the effort and I felt myself falling. But I fell for only a moment because Troy's arms were around me, holding me securely to him.
"You did it! You did it, Annie! You're on your way back. Nothing can stop you now!"
I couldn't hold back my tears. I was crying a rainbow of happiness, colored blue and yellow, and a veil of sadness, colored gray. I cried because of my success and I cried because I was in the arms of someone who I now knew could be warm and loving, but who was trapped in a world of dark days.
He helped me to return to my chair and then stood back, gazing down at me as proudly as a parent who had seen his baby take her first steps.
"Thank you."
"It is I who should thank you, Annie. You made the clouds part enough for some sunlight to come into my world today. But," he said, looking at the grandfather clock, "I had better get you back. If, as you say, they don't know where you are, they must be frantic with worry by now."
All I could do was nod. I was feeling
exhausted, and the prospect of lying in that big, comfortable bed upstairs in Farthy seemed
surprisingly inviting.
"Will you come to see me?" I begged him. My days at Farthy seemed suddenly brighter with the prospect of Troy to help pass the hours.
"No. You'll come to see me . . . on your own, very soon, I'm sure."
"And after I leave Farthy and return to Winnerrow, will you pay me a visit?"
"I don't know, Annie. I don't leave the cottage very much these days."
He started to wheel me out. The afternoon sun had fallen considerably since we had come through the maze and entered the cottage. Now long shadows were painted over the little lawn and garden. The maze looked much darker and deeper.
"You're cold," Troy said. "Wait." He went back into the cottage and reappeared carrying a light eggshell-white cardigan sweater. I put it on quickly. "Better?"
"Yes, thank you."
This time when we entered the maze, I felt as if I were moving through some dark boundary between a happy world and a sad one. I longed to be turned around and g
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back to Troy's cottage. How quickly I had come to trust him and feel comfortable with him.
"Perhaps someday you'll let me help you take your first steps, Troy," I said.
"My first steps. How do you mean that, Annie?" We rounded a corner.
"Your first steps into the bright warm world where you belong, the world you deserve."
"Oh. Well, maybe you already have. We're both cripples of a sort, I suppose."
"On the way to recovery," I assured him with a smile.
"Yes, on the way to recovery," he agreed.
"Both of us?" I insisted, raising my brows.
"Yes, both of us." He laughed. "I don't think I could remain depressed with you around. You wouldn't tolerate it long; your mother was the same way."
"You'll tell me more about what you remember about her when she was young . . every time we talk?"
"I will."
"Then we must talk often," I insisted. "Promise?" "I'll do the best I can."
There was no one outside the house when we emerged from the maze. I was positive they were looking for me by now, but I thought they just couldn't imagine me outside. Of course, they had found my chair by the elevator chair and knew I had come downstairs, but they were sure to be going through the bottom floor first.
"I'll help you up that ramp," Troy said. He pushed me forward and up until we reached the front door. "You're back!" He came around to the front of my chair. "Have a good night, Annie, and thank you. I'll have no nightmares tonight," he added, smiling down at me with a gentle warmth in his eyes.
"Nor will I.
"May I give you a good-bye kiss?"
"Yes, I'd like that."
He leaned down and kissed me softly on the cheek and then he was off. Almost before I could turn around, he was gone, absorbed by the shadows, as if he, too, were merely a phantom dream I'd conjured to wile away the long, lonely hours in Farthinggale Manor.
I opened the great door and wheeled myself into the house. I was halfway through the entryway and on my way to the elevator chair when Tony, accompanied by Parsons and another handyman, appeared.
"Here she is! Well,be darned!" Parsons hollered.
"Where have you been?" Tony demanded. He looked very disheveled, his eyes wild.
"Outside . . . just outside," I said, trying to sound casual, but the more casual I sounded, the angrier Tony became, his eyes brightening with surprising fire and rage.
"Outside? Don't you know what you have put us through, wandering about like this? We've been searching and searching. The whole house has been turned upside down, inside out. You told no one where you were going. I told you I would take you on your first outings. How could you do this on top of all that's happened?" he demanded.
"I wouldn't have done it if I thought I couldn't, but I was able to wheel myself about, and after I tell you all the rest, you'll understand," I replied, quite taken aback by his outburst. This was a side of him he had kept well hidden until now, I thought, the side of Tony Tatterton that made employees shake and servants jump, the ruthless executive who couldn't tolerate anyone going against his wishes and commands.
"Take her upstairs!" he bellowed before I could add another thing. "And don't use the elevator chair. I want her up there quickly! She looks exhausted."
Parsons and the handyman rushed forward at his order and took hold of my chair, wheeling me to the foot of the stairway and lifting me to carry me up the steps.
"Wait, Tony. I don't want to go up yet. I feel trapped in that room. I want to eat downstairs in the dining room tonight and I want to move about freely through this house. I have taken my first steps," I announced proudly.
"First steps? Where? You need your rest, your hot baths, your massages. You don't know what you're doing anymore. The doctor will be enraged. All your progress will be ruined."
"But Tony--"
"Just take her up," Tony repeated. "Quickly."
"Stop this. Put me down," I demanded. Parsons and the handyman looked at Tony again, but what they saw in his face made them continue.
"Sorry, miss, but if Mr. Tatterton thinks this is best for you, we'd better do it."
"Oh, all right," I said, seeing how I was only putting the servants in a difficult position. "Do what he wants."
"Very good, miss." They lifted me easily and carried me up the stairs.
"You can put me down now," I said when we reached the upstairs floor. "I'll wheel myself to my room."
As I went through the outer door, I pulled it closed behind me. It slammed shut and then I sat in silence, confronting my bed, my walker, my medical facilities. It was all so depressing after being outside. I was determined to end this now. Luke was sure to get my message and come to visit.
And when he did, I would demand he take me home.
And I would leave this place, this house full of ghosts and haunting memories and painful times.
Luke and I had lost our fantasy world, perhaps, but we would have each other. It was that thought and that thought alone that made me determined to leave.

Exhausted from my first outing, my efforts to walk, and Tony's dramatic outrage, I wheeled myself to the bed. Just as I lifted myself out of the chair and leaned over the bed, Tony came through the door.

"Annie, you should never, never close your door," he chastised. "How will I know when you need something? And look at you struggling to get back into bed. You should have realized I would be right up to help you." He pulled the wheelchair back and then swung my legs up and onto the bed.

The two of you could rile up a preacher."
"The two of us?" I swung around. "Mommy's
dead . . . dead!" I screamed. I was so tired and so
mentally exhausted, I had no tolerance for his confusions.
"I know that, Annie," he said softly, closing and
opening his eyes. "I'm sorry, sorry I had to be so
rough with you downstairs, but you did a very bad
thing, and I was just overwhelmed by it all." "It's all right, Tony. All right," I said, not wishing to prolong any discussion. I wanted only to get myself into bed, rest, eat my dinner, sleep, and
wait for Luke's arrival.
"No, it's not all right, but I'll make it up to you.
I promise. You'll see. There are so many things I want
to do for you now, Annie, things I will do, things
could have done for Heaven if only she would have
let me."
"Okay," I said. I closed my eyes and then felt
his hand on my forehead.
"Poor Annie . . . my poor, poor Annie." He
stroked my hair affectionately, and when I looked into
his eyes, I saw the warm concern again. He was just
too complex, too confusing for me. I just couldn't deal
with him on top of everything else anymore. All I
wanted was to leave here.
Suddenly the light in his eyes changed. "This sweater you're wearing. Where did you
get it?" he demanded.
I didn't want to get Troy into any trouble, but I
couldn't lie about it. Tony had gone through my
wardrobe after Drake had brought everything, and he
knew what clothing was hanging in the closets here
and what was in the dresser drawers.
"Someone gave it to me," I said.
"Someone? Who?"
"A very nice man who lives in the cottage on
the other side of the maze," I replied, deciding to
pretend I didn't know who Troy really was.
"The other side of the maze? You went through
the maze?"
"I'm tired, Tony. Very tired. Please. I don't want
to talk anymore. I just want to sleep."
"Yes, yes. I'll help you undress," he said,
reaching down to help remove the sweater.
"No! I can do it all myself. I want my privacy.
Just leave me be!" I demanded. He pulled back as if I
had slapped him across the face.
"Of course," he mumbled. "Of course. I'll let
you rest and then see to your dinner."
"Thank you." I didn't move, to show him I
wouldn't do anything until he had left. He understood, nodded, still looking stunned, and then turned
and left the room.
I was quite a bit more tired than I had
anticipated, and the effort to undress and get myself
into my nightgown was exhausting. It seemed to take
forever, too. By the time I had pulled myself under the
cover and lowered my head to the pillow, I was
drained. In moments I was asleep.
I woke abruptly. It took me a few moments to
acclimate myself again, and when I looked at the
clock by the side of
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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. Ill 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.