Casteel - Gates Of Paradise Part 30

"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-o-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 a.s.sured 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 ma.s.sages. 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.

TWENTY.

A Prisoner's Escape.

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.

"I can do it myself," I insisted.

"Oh, Annie. You're just like Heaven--stubborn.

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 antic.i.p.ated, 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-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 hoa.r.s.e, .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 b.u.t.terfly. 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 gla.s.s 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 b.r.e.a.s.t.s 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.