"I couldn't grow into a healthy young man, not with these doomsday thoughts hanging over my head all the time. The worse I became, the more concerned Tony became and the more time and energy he devoted to me. His wife Jillian was a self-centered woman who was in love with only her own image in the mirror and expected everyone around her to be so enamored. You can't imagine how jealous she was of anyone or anything that would pull Tony's attention from her, even for a moment.
"So, eventually I moved into this cottage to live and to work on the Tatterton Toys. it was a very lonely existence; most anyone would have gone mad, I know, but I wasn't as lonely as you might think, for I made my toys my world, my tiny people my people, and imagined stories about their lives."
He shifted his eyes about the room, gazing at some of the toys, and laughed.
"Maybe I was mad. Who knows? It was a good madness, though. Anyway," he said, leaning forward again, "I was plagued by thoughts of my own death.
Winter was an especially difficult time because the nights were so long, giving too much time for too many dreams to be born. I would try to hold back sleep until just before dawn. Sometimes, I succeeded.
If I saw I couldn't, I would walk about outside and let the fresh cold air wash my dreary thoughts away. I would walk the trails between the pines, and when my brain was cleared, only then did I come back in here and try to sleep again."
"Why did you stay here during the winter? You were rich enough to go anywhere you wanted, weren't you?"
"Yes. I tried to escape. I spent winters in Florida, in Naples, the Riviera, all over the world. I traveled and traveled, searching for an avenue of escape, but my winter thoughts were like excess baggage, always with me. I couldn't shake them off, no matter what I did or where I went, so I returned defeated, unable to do anything but accept my fate.
"Along about that time, your mother came along. She was a flower planted in the desert . . . a cheerful, bright and beautiful person. I knew she had been through hard times already during her young life, but she seemed to be able to cling to that optimism and innocence that characterizes young people, that makes older people so envious.
"You have that same wonderful light in your eyes, Annie. I can see it. Even though some terrible, horrible things have happened to you and the people you love, that brightness is still there, burning like a large candle in a dark tunnel. Someone very lucky will be guided by your light out of the darkness of his own sad thoughts and will live happily in the warmth of your glow. I know it."
I couldn't help blushing. Few men had ever spoken to me this way.
"Thank you," I said. "But you haven't told me what drove you to ride a horse into the sea."
He sat back and tucked his hands behind his head again. I could see that was his favorite position.
For a long moment he thought, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. I was patient, for I could sense how difficult it had to be for someone to explain why he had wanted to end his life. Finally, he sat forward again.
"Seeing your mother, seeing the brightness and the life, filled me with some hope for myself in those days, and for a while I was different. I even thought,. .
believed it was possible for me to find someone like her and marry and raise children . . . a daughter much like yourself, perhaps.
"But my melancholy returned when I could find no one like her. I was depressing to most women, you see, for most didn't have the patience to deal with my temperament. One day, during a party that Tony had arranged to cheer me up, I decided I would turn the tables on Death . . Death who had pursued me my entire life, Death who sat in the shadows smirking, waiting, haunting me with his dark, gray eyes, his patient posture . . waiting for his opportunity. I decided to take the opportunity away. Instead of spending my life attempting to flee from what I knew would be his inevitable grasp, I charged forward at him and so surprised him with my action, he did not know how to react. I rode Jillian's wild horse into the sea, fully expecting to end my wretched existence.
"But as I said, Death was surprised and couldn't take me. I was cast back on the shore, alive. I had failed even at this.
"However, I realized I had given myself an opportunity to escape in a different way. I let everyone believe I had died. It enabled me to become someone else, to move about like a shadow and not be troubled by people who wanted to cheer me up. I only depressed them anyway, because when they failed, they had to contend with me in my gray, dark state of mind.
"This way I bothered no one and no one bothered me. But one day my brother discovered my existence. He had been mourning my death so hard anyway that I could no longer keep my life from him.
We made a pact . I would live here, anonymously, and he would maintain the fiction of my death. After a number of years had passed, when most anyone who had known me had left or died, we told people I was a new artisan, creating toys in Troy's style.
"And so, no one bothers me and I can continue as I am, as I told you: working, living in my memories and my peaceful solitude.
"Now you know the truth and I am dependent upon your promise to keep it locked in your heart."
"I won't tell anyone, but I wish you would come back to the world on the other side of the maze. I wish, somehow, I could bring you back."
"How sweet you are sitting there in your wheelchair wishing you could help someone else."
We gazed at one another. There were tears
locked in the corners of his eyes, for he knew that if he released them, my own tears would come bursting forth.
"Now," he said suddenly, clapping his hands together. "You say you stood on your own yesterday?"
"Yes."
"Well, you should be standing a little more every day, and you should be taking steps."
"That's what I thought, but the doctor said—"
"Doctors may know some things about the human body, but they often don't know enough about the human heart." He got up and stood about two feet in front of me, just far enough away for him to hold out his arms. "I want you to stand again, and this time, I want you to try to take a step toward me."
"Oh, I don't know . I ."
"Nonsense, Annie Stonewall. You get to your feet. You're Heaven's daughter, and Heaven would not sit there pitying herself, nor would she remain at the mercy of other people long."
He said magic words. I swallowed hard and bit down gently on my lower lip. Then I took hold of the arms of the chair and willed my feet to move from the footpads to the floor. Slowly, scraping along, they did so. Troy nodded encouragement. I closed my eyes and willed all the-pressure I could down my legs.
"Make your feet one with the floor of the cottage," he whispered. "The soles of your feet are glued to that floor. Glued . . ."
I felt myself pushing. There was pressure there.
My legs tightened, the wobbly muscles stretched, and I pushed down on the arms of the chair. Slowly, even better and smoother than yesterday, my body rose into a standing position. I opened my eyes. Troy smiled.
"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. Nothin
g 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-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 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.
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 over
whelmed 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.
Gates of Paradise (Casteel Series #4) Page 29