Casteel 04 Gates of Paradise (11 page)

"Afterward doesn't matter. I'm going off to college, and frankly, this is one time I agree with my mother--I don't care what the hypocrites of Winnerrow think."
"I only wish I could be there beside you, Luke." "You'll be beside me, Annie. I'll know it."
I started to bawl again. I hid my face in my palms. Mrs. Broadfield, her face screwed in anger, rushed forward.
"Now you have to stop this!" she exclaimed. "Hang that phone up. The call is too disturbing."
She took the phone before I had a chance to pick it up again.
"This is Mrs. Broadfield," she said. "I'm afraid you'll have to end this conversation. Annie is too weak for this kind of emotional strain."
"Please, give me the phone, Mrs. Broadfield," I demanded.
"Well, bring this to an end," she said. "You'll make yourself sick."
"I'll be calm. I promise."
Reluctantly, she returned the phone.
"I'm sorry," Luke said immediately. "I didn't--" "It's all right, Luke. I'm all right. be strong. I'm
crying because I'm happy, too, happy for you." "Be happy for the both of us, Annie."
"I'll try."
"I'll call you right after graduation and let you know how it goes."
"Don't forget."
"I'd as soon forget to breathe," he said.
"Good luck, Luke," I cried, and surrendered the phone to Mrs. Broadfield, who quickly cradled the receiver.
I fell back against the pillows.
"You don't understand your condition, Annie," she began. "You've not only been damaged
physically, but emotionally as well. This kind of thing can set you back for months."
The tears and the agony made my heart feel like a brick in my chest. Suddenly I was struggling to breathe. I gasped and reached up. I felt the blood draining from my face, my cheeks turning cold. The room began to spin. The last thing I heard was Mrs. Broadfield yell,
"Stat!"
Then the season of darkness claimed me again.

I felt as if I were falling down a long, dark tunnel, but as I fell I began to see a light at the end. I was drawing closer and closer to it, and soon I began to hear voices. First it sounded like many people whispering; then their whispering grew louder, until it sounded more like hundreds of flies buzzing around a screen window on a hot, sticky, late summer day. Then the buzzing turned into words and I fell through the bottom of the tunnel into the bright light.

There really was a very bright light pointed at my face.
"She's coming to," someone said, and a head moved away from the light and pushed it away so the brightness was directed to the side. I looked into Dr. Malisoff's concerned hazel eyes.
"Hey there, how are you doing, Annie?"
My lips felt so dry I thought I would scratch the tip of my tongue over them. I swallowed.
"What happened?"
I blinked again and turned to see Mrs. Broadfield over by the sink talking with Dr. Malisoff's assistant, Dr. Carson. She was shaking her head, too, and gesturing excitedly with her hands as she spoke, apparently describing what had happened to me. I'd never seen her so animated.
"Well, Annie, part of this is my fault. I should have explained to you how emotionally weak you are. We seem to be concentrating only on your physical problems, when indeed there are emotional and mental ones, too. Your injuries go a great deal deeper than might first appear."
He took the cold cloth from my forehead and handed it to Mrs. Broadfield. Dr. Malisoff didn't move from my bedside. He sat down and took my left hand into his hands.
"Remember when you asked if that was all that was wrong with you and I laughed?" I nodded. "Well, I shouldn't have laughed. I should have told you there were emotional and psychological injuries as well. Maybe then more would have been done to prevent something like this from happening."
"But what happened? All I remember was feeling this weight on my chest and . . ."
"You passed out. Emotional strain. The thing is, Annie, you didn't realize how weak you were because we have you relatively comfortable and well taken care of here. But the truth is you've been crippled in a number of different ways, one of which is emotionally. Just as the skin on your body has been torn and bruised, so has the skin over your feelings and thoughts. I'm sure you've heard it said, 'He's thickskinned.' Right?" I nodded. "Well, that's not as silly as it sounds. We protect our emotions, protect our minds in many ways, and your protecton has been badly damaged. So, you're easily upset, vulnerable, exposed. Understand?"
"I think so."
"Good."
"Now our major concern here is that your physical recuperation will be hampered, maybe even totally prevented, if you continue to suffer
emotionally. One part of you is tied to the other part. A person can't be physically healthy if he or she is psychologically and emotionally sick. That's where I was a little careless. I should have kept you more protected, at least until you are stronger, until that emotional skin gets thick again. That's what we have to do now."
"What does that mean?" I couldn't help being afraid. I had thought that I was doing well emotionally. Who could have stood up under such tragedy? Who could have gone on not only losing both her parents, but finding herself paralyzed, her life turned upside down and inside out? I felt like spending my entire day crying and mourning, but I kept my tears locked in my heart so others wouldn't be continually uncomfortable in my presence. And yet here was the doctor telling me I was an emotional mess. It was as if I had only to look into a mirror to see a crushed and broken me. I shivered at the thought.
"Well, Mrs. Broadfield has told me about your visitors and your phone calls." He squinted so that wrinkles and folds broke out over the bridge of his nose. Then he shook his head. "We've got to slow that sort of stuff down for a while so we can protect you. I know you won't be happy about that in the beginning, but for a while, at least, will you trust us and let us do what is best for you so you can make a full recuperation and return to a normal life that much faster?"
"I didn't have that many visitors . . . just Tony and Drake and my aunt and Luke. He's the only one who's called me," I protested.
He turned to Mrs. Broadfield, who shook her head as if I were babbling like a madwoman.
"Well, it's not how many people come to see you or call you; it's what those visits and calls can do to you," Dr. Malisoff explained with painstaking concern. "You're very lucky, though. You've got a place to go for your recuperation that will be as good as any therapeutic hospital. You'll be in a beautiful, quiet setting, insulated and protected. Your body and your mind will have a chance to mend much faster than they would if you were exposed to everyone else's problems and feelings."
He patted my hand and stood up.
"Do I have your trust and cooperation, Annie?"
"Yes," I said, in a voice so small it reminded me of a little girl's voice. Maybe he was right; maybe I had become a little girl again. I had returned to a time when the smallest things could make me cry and fill my heart with sorrow, only I didn't have my mother or my father to turn to for sympathy and solace.
"Good."
"Does this mean I have to stay in the hospital longer now?"
"We'll see."
"How is she?" I heard Tony demand. He was suddenly in my doorway. I lifted my head to see him. His face was flushed, his silky gray hair mussed, and his double-breasted dark blue suit creased and out of shape. He looked like he had run all the way.
"She's fine now," Dr. Malisoff reassured him. "There was no need for you to come rushing over, Mr. Tatterton." He shifted his eyes quickly to Mrs. Broadfield, who busied herself with washcloths and towels.
"Thank God," Tony said, rushing to my bedside and looking down at me. "I thought . . . well, what happened?"
"Oh, a case of emotional exhaustion. Annie and I have just had a good discussion about it, and she understands now what has to be done, right, Annie?" I nodded. He patted me on the hand again and started out of the room.
"Just a minute," Tony called after him. He and the doctor walked out together. I could just hear them mumbling in the hallway. Mrs. Broadfield came to my bed and straightened my blanket and fluffed my pillow. She looked stern, cold, her eyes fixed and beady.
"No one's going to blame you, are they?" I asked her, thinking she was worried about that.
"Me? Why should anyone blame me? I couldn't red tag your visiting hours or cut off your phone calls."
"I just thought--"
"Oh no, Annie. I think now, if anything, everyone agrees with me," she said. A wide, sharp smile of self-satisfaction crawled over her face, making her look more like an arrogant cat settling on a fine sofa for a nap.
A few moments later Tony reentered my room and came to the side of my bed.
"Are you really feeling better now?"
"Oh yes, Tony."
He looked so worried, his blue eyes cloudy, the wrinkles in his forehead deepening.
"I was careless, too. I should have realized . . ."
"Now everyone can't go around blaming everyone else and themselves. It's over," I said. "Please, let's forget it."
"Oh, we're not going to forget it. The doctor told me everything he told you. I've already agreed with him. New orders are being given."
"New orders?'
He nodded at Mrs. Broadfield and she went right to my telephone and disconnected it from the wall.
"My phone!" I protested
"No calls for a while, Annie. Doctor's orders." "But Luke is supposed to call me right after graduation to tell me how his speech went," I cried in dismay.
"I'm going downstairs to the telephone operator right after I leave this room, Annie, and have them redirect all your calls to my office, where either I or Drake can take them for you. I'll bring all the news and information to you immediately. I promise, and you know I keep my promises, right?"
I looked away. Luke would feel so terrible; he would blame himself, and it was so important for him to talk to me after the speech. I felt the tears trying to work themselves up again, and my pitter-patter heart quickly became a heavy thumping drum in my chest. But I remembered Dr. Malisoff's lecture. I had to develop the thick skin or I would slow down my recuperation. For a while, just for a while, some sacrifices had to be made.
"We're all trying to do what is best for you, Annie, as directed by the best physicians and nurses money can buy. Believe me. Please."
"I believe you, Tony. I just feel sorry for Luke."
Tony looked at me with great fondness and sympathy. "I'll tell you what. I'm going to send him a telegram from you right now wishing him good luck. Won't that buoy his spirits?"
"Oh yes, Tony. What a great idea," I said excitedly.
"And . . . and I'll call him personally and tell him you're all right, but the doctor has made new orders and for a while you have to remain quiet and undisturbed," he instructed.
"Please, tell him not to blame himself for calling me."
"Oh, of course I will. And if I think he doesn't believe me, have the doctor call him, too," he offered with a gentle smile.
"You would?"
"Annie," he said, his face turning serious, "I will do anything in my power to get you back on your feet and return you to happiness. I know that's going to be hard to do because you lost the people you most cherished in your life, but all I ask is an opportunity to replace them in a small way. Will you let me try?"
"Yes," I said softly, impressed with the intensity of his eyes and the determination in his voice. Was this the same voice my mother heard pleading for forgiveness? How could she turn him away?
"Thank you. Well now,Ill let you rest, butIll be back this evening," he promised.
He leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. "Drake's waiting to hear about you, too."
"Give him my love."
"I will. He's doing exceptionally well. He'll make a very good executive because he has selfassurance and ambition. In some ways he reminds me a little of myself at his age," he added, a note of pride in his voice. Mrs. Broadfield accompanied Tony out of the room, closing my door softly behind her.
No more phone calls; no visitors. Oh well, it would be just for a little while, I thought, and soon I'd be at Farthy. Perhaps the magic Luke and I believed resided there would work its way into me and speed up my recovery.
Mrs. Broadfield, because of what I assumed were the doctor's orders, turned herself into a fortress. Even the Pink Ladies had to go through her to get to me. Most of the time, now, my door was kept closed. I hated all this protection. Whenever I was left alone, I cried for my parents. When Mrs. Broadfield found me drenched with tears, she chided me and warned me about bringing on another emotional collapse. But I couldn't help it. All I could see was my mother's beautiful smile, a smile I would never see again; all I could hear was my father's wonderful warm laughter, laughter I would never hear.
True to his promise, the next day Tony came to the hospital immediately after he had spoken with Luke. I listened as he related Luke's description of our graduation.
"The weather was perfect, not a cloud in the sky. He said the audience fell into a hush after he was introduced and took his position at the podium. He wanted me to be sure to tell you that when he was finished, he received a standing ovation." Tony smiled. "He said his mother was the first to jump up, but everyone followed right along. And everyone asked about you."
"Oh, Tony, I feel so bad about his not being able to call me," I said, and moaned.
"No, no. He understands completely. He's a fine lad, concerned only about your welfare. He told me repeatedly to let you know you shouldn't worry about him. Just recuperate as quickly as you can." Then his face lit up like a beacon and he gathered himself up into an announcer's posture. "And now, the words you've been waiting for: Dr. Malisoff has signed your release. I'm taking you to Farthy tomorrow morning."
"Really?" The news both excited me and made me anxious and sad. I was finally going to see Farthinggale Manor, the place I had dreamt of going to all my life, my fairy-tale castle. But now I was going under a cloak of mourning. My mother and father weren't taking me there, and I wasn't going to walk up those tall and wide steps and through that arching front door. Ill be carried up and enter Farthinggale a crippled orphan.
"Why so sad a face?" His smile weakened.
"I was just thinking about my parents and how wonderful it would have been if all of us would have gone to Farthinggale together."
"Yes." His eyes took on that glazed, far-off look again. "That would have been wonderful. Anyway," he said, snapping back quickly, "I've gotten you the most comfortable wheelchair made. It will arrive this afternoon and Mrs. Broadfield will help you get used to it."
"Thank you, Tony. Thank you for everything you've done and are doing."
"I told you how to thank me--get better quickly?' "I'll try."
"Tomorrow, then, you will begin your journey back to happiness and health."
He leaned over and kissed my cheek, but paused and closed his eyes before his lips touched my skin. He inhaled deeply.
"Wearing the jasmine, I see. Well, we've got gallons of it at Farthy." He kissed me, his lips lingering longer than I expected. He stood up straight and gazed down at me with the most intense look I had yet seen. "There is much that awaits you at Farthy, much that is yours to inherit and enjoy."
"I can't wait to see it."
About an hour after he left, the wheelchair was delivered. Tony had had them wrap it in a large pink ribbon. Mrs. Broadfield took it off quickly and folded it out. It had shiny chrome arms and legs, a brown, soft-leather seat and back, and suede armrests. Even the footrests were padded.
"Mr. Tatterton must have had this custom built,"
Mrs. Broadfield commented. "I've never seen one like it."
She wheeled the chair alongside the bed, and I got my first taste of what it was going to be like to be lifted out of bed in the morning and into my chair.
First she brought the head of the bed up as far as it would go so I was in a sitting position. Then she came around and peeled the blankets off my body. She lifted my legs and turned me so my legs dangled over the side of the bed. They felt loose, barely attached, although there was no pain in them, no feeling whatsoever.
After she had turned me, Mrs. Broadfield came around, put her arms under my armpits, and lifted me so that I could slide off the side of the bed and into the chair, the right arm of which was folded down for my entry. It embarrassed me. I felt like an infant. I hated the dependency, but there was nothing I could about it.
Once I was in the chair, she snapped the right arm back into place and adjusted the footpads so my feet were safely placed on them.
"This little lever will lock the chair so it won't roll. You don't have to push hard to get it moving. Just make gentle, easy strokes and let the momentum carry you forward. Take hold of this metal rim when you want to make a turn to the right, or that metal rim when you want to make a turn to the left. Go on, practice now," she commanded, and I wheeled myself about the room.