"Girlfriends?" He stepped back in and came closer to my bed. "When you mentioned girlfriends before, I didn't understand."
"Didn't you meet anyone special right away?" I questioned.
"Hardly. Between orientation, gathering books and materials, organizing my dorm room . . . and trying to get to see you, I didn't have time for much socializing."
"But I thought . . Drake came to see you once, didn't he?" My heart was pounding now. Was Luke lying so I wouldn't feel bad? Should I force him to tell me the truth?"
"He came, for about ten minutes. I was in the dorm lounge reading," he said nonchalantly.
"By yourself?" I pursued. I was like a glutton for punishment, demanding to hear what I knew would break my heart.
"There were other students there, but we had hardly gotten to know one another. I told you, I was so concerned about you, I--"
"Drake thought you knew someone very well," I blurted out.
Luke looked t confused. "Really? I didn't think he thought anything. He babbled about your condition, the need for you to be kept quiet and undisturbed, and then rushed off on some business errand, promising to keep in touch. I called him a number of times, and each time, his secretary told me he was out or involved in a meeting. I called Tony's office and usually met with the same response. Finally I called Farthy itself and spoke with Mrs. Broadfield. And as you now know, she wasn't encouraging.
"But I was so happy when my roommate gave me your phone message. Then . . . when Tony turned me away, I nearly knocked him over and rushed in anyway. All that kept me from doing it was fear of causing more trouble for you. Thank God my mother got that call and was on her way. Now tell me, what was all that about between you and Tony when we left Farthy, that confusion he spoke about?"
"Oh, Luke, it was painful, horrible and disgusting. I felt so helpless, so victimized, and what has added pain to it now is the knowledge that most of it didn't have to happen, that what I thought was being done as therapy or as good medical treatment was part of the madness I was surrounded by. have nightmares forever!" I cried.
"No you won't, because when those bad memories return, be here to drive them away," he promised, his eyes small and determined. "But tell me some of it. It might help to talk about it."
"Oh, Luke, it was so embarrassing, and now that I know some of the sick reasons for some of it, I feel dirtied and defiled." I shook myself to shake off the feelings and thoughts.
Luke took my hand into his. "Oh, Annie, what sort of things did he do?"
"He made me undress in front of him, and he insisted he help me with my bath."
Luke's face froze in astonishment.
"I couldn't resist him. There was no one to call to, no one to help me, and he seemed so . . . fatherly at the time. I let him wash my back, I let him . . . Oh, Luke, it's disgusting to think about it now." I covered my face with my hands. He slipped beside me on the bed and embraced me, holding me close to him and stroking my hair. Then he kissed my forehead and I lifted my face toward his.
"I'm so angry at myself for not coming to rescue you sooner."
"There was no way for you to know," I said. "But you were with me, helping me. During the darkest, most painful and lonely moments, I thought about you. Oh, Luke, I feel so secure with you, so safe again." Our faces were so close. We gazed deeply into each other's eyes. "I know it's not fair. I shouldn't make these demands on you and keep you from having a real girlfriend, but--"
He put his finger on my lips.
"Don't say anything else, Annie. I'm happy being . . . being with you."
He kissed my cheek. I closed my eyes, waiting, hoping, expecting his lips would press against mine, but he didn't do it. My body tingled in anticipation. I felt the blush come into my neck. My breast was pressed against his arm.
"Oh, Luke, I can't help feeling this way about you," I whispered.
"Nor can I help the way I feel, Annie." He pressed me to him again and we embraced for a long moment. "Anyway," he said, pulling back, "the horror is over. Who was it who called my mother? One of the handymen?"
I hesitated, wondering if I could share Troy's secret life with Luke. We had shared so many secrets before. I knew he was-dependable and wouldn't do anything to hurt me.
"If I tell you, will you keep it a treasured secret and promise never to reveal it?"
"Of course. There are so many things between us kept under lock and key in my heart, one more won't matter."
"It was Troy Tatterton."
"Troy Tatterton? But I thought--"
"Troy Tatterton is not dead, Luke, but he wants people to think he is."
"Why?"
"He wants the anonymous life. He's had a very troubled, sad existence and he simply wants to be left alone."
"So he was the one who called my mother? Very lucky he did."
"I think it was more than luck. I think he decided he would look after me. He took me to see his cottage, and guess what, Luke? The replica," I said, pointing, "it's his cottage."
"Really?"
"While I was in his cottage he helped me stand and got me to take a few steps. I felt like a baby just learning how to walk, but that convinced me I should be trying harder right now, getting my legs to come back, to get used to holding my weight."
"Of course, We'll get your walker this morning and I'll help you as soon as you want."
"Help me into the wheelchair, please."
He looked about, helpless for a moment.
"Are you sure? I mean--"
"Of course I'm sure. I'm not a piece of fragile china, Luke Casteel."
He brought the wheelchair to my bed and gently pulled back my blanket. Then he slipped his left hand under my thighs and embraced me at the waist with his right arm.
"I'm not too heavy, am I?"
"Too heavy? You're as light as a warm, soft dream."
He held me in his arms for a moment. Our faces were so close that when I turned toward him, my lips nearly grazed his. We gazed into each other's eyes. I felt a warm glow move down my body, a magical, soft, silky tingle.
"I could hold you like this forever and ever," Luke whispered. His eyes were so intense, so fixed on mine, I felt as though he were looking into my soul.
"What if I told you to do that? To hold me forever and forever?" I asked him in a silvery, soft voice.
He smiled and kissed my forehead. I closed my eyes.
"I won't put you down until you tell me to," "Let's pretend again," I said. "Pretend you found me at Farthy asleep in that horrible room, under a spell cast by the wicked Devil. Put me back on the bed," I commanded. He smiled and did so. I put my arms at my sides and closed my eyes.
"I burst through the doors!"
"Yes," I said, excited that he had taken up the challenge. "And you see me and your heart is broken." I kept my eyes closed.
"Because I think you will never wake up and I have lost you forever and ever."
"But you remember the magic. A long time ago you were told this would happen and you must kiss the sleeping princess to wake her. Only, your kiss must be sincere," I added.
He didn't reply, and for a moment I thought the game was over, but I didn't dare open my eyes. First, I felt him leaning over me. Then I sensed his face coming closer . . . closer . . . until . . his lips touched mine. And his kiss lingered on my hungry lips.
"Had to make it sincere," he whispered, and I opened my eyes. I wanted to reach up and pull him down to me, but I was so taken with my own feelings and the look in his eyes, I couldn't move. Then he smiled.
"It worked! You're awake."
He scooped me up into his arms again.
"My prince," I said, and embraced him more tightly.
"And now, to carry you off and away." He held me like that for a few long moments. If he were struggling, he didn't show it. Finally, I laughed.
"Okay, my prince, put me in the chair. I believe you," I said, thinking that someone could come into the room and find us like this.
He lowered me e
ver so gently and then stepped back.
"How do I look to you? Tell me the truth," I added quickly, afraid that I had changed dramatically and lost whatever beauty I had once possessed.
"Well, . . you're thinner. And I am having some trouble getting used to that hair color, I'm afraid."
'Im changing back to my own natural color tomorrow,"
"But other than that, you're no different, just as pretty as ever."
"Luke Toby Casteel, you'd tell me I was pretty even if my face were covered with chicken pox," I said, trying to cover my obvious pleasure.
"I remember when it was and I did think you were still pretty, or at least, cute." He fidgeted about for a few moments. "You want me to wheel you anywhere?"
"No, just stay here for a while."
He nodded, his dark blue eyes narrowing on me.
"When I just looked down at you, with your eyes closed like that, I. . I didn't want to pretend. I wanted it to be a real kiss, Annie," he confessed.
"It was a real kiss," I said. "A wonderful kiss."
He nodded and then looked away quickly, knowing that if he didn't, we might say too much.
"Oh, Luke, I missed you so much."
He pressed his teeth down softly over his lower lip and nodded gently. I saw that he was holding back tears.
"Well now, I see ya up and ready to get started. That's good." Suddenly Fanny was in the doorway. "Want ta wash up and stuff and get ready for breakfast?
"Yes, Aunt Fanny."
"Okay then. You scoot of Luke, and get Annie up and dressed."
"I'll bring up her breakfast," Luke offered, He started out.
"Luke," I called. He turned around quickly. "Thanks, but from now on, no more meals in bed. No more invalid."
He smiled. "Great. We'll work on your walking as many times during the day as you want." He looked at his mother.
"If ya two are gonna keep talkin' like this, I'll jist go back ta the livin' room and twiddle ma thumbs."
"I'm leavin'." He flashed a smile at me and walked out.
"Ya eva see anyone gab as much as that boy kin? Takes after his grandpappy Toby, all right. That man could sit out on the porch of that cabin whittlin' rabbits and jawin' till the sun dropped. Why, long after ma grandma Annie died, he still talked ta her as if she was still around, ya know."
"I understand why now, Aunt Fanny. It's hard to give up the people you love, and sometimes you just refuse to do it, no matter what reality tells you."
She stepped back and considered me. "I guess ya changed a lil Annie. Grew in some ways 'cause of this tragedy and all that followed. Maybe ya learned things I neva learned 'bout people. Granny used ta say hard times kin wise ya up plenty. Know they did that fer Heaven. She was a lot smarter than me.
"Oh, I had hard times, too, but I was always feelin' sorry fer maself, so I didn't have time ta learn nothin'." She shook her head.
"Well, here I am jawin' away like Luke. Must run in the family. Let's tend ta ya bathroom needs and get ya dressed."
Mrs. Avery came in to help, too. The way she and Aunt Fanny fussed over me surely made me feel at home again. What a difference between their loving hands and soothing words and Mrs. Broadfield's coldly efficient and mechanical ways. All the money and elaborate medical attention in the world couldn't rival tender loving care. I should have known that from the start, and when Tony offered to get me the best doctors and the best medical care money could buy, I should have simply asked to go home.
In a short time I was bathed and dressed and Luke returned to help bring me downstairs.
"Ready?" he asked. Both Mrs. Avery and Aunt Fanny turned to me in anticipation. Would I back out and ask to have my meals brought up, or would I face the world without Mommy and Daddy? I turned to Luke. His eyes were full of determination for me. I knew he would be at my side.
"Yes," I said. "I'm ready."
And Luke moved forward quickly. He put his hand over mine and got behind the wheelchair.
"It's going to be all right," he whispered, and when Aunt Fanny and Mrs. Avery turned their backs to us, he kissed me on the cheek quickly.
TWENTY-TWO By Love Blessed, or Cursed
. As soon as we entered the dining room, my eyes shifted to my father's and mother's places. The empty seats stared back at me, and my heart folded in and shut itself away like a clam. For a moment no one spoke; everyone, including Luke, gazed down at me with faces soaked in pity.
And then everyone started talking at once . Aunt Fanny giving orders, Mrs. Avery complaining about this or that, Roland slapping his hands together and promising the best breakfast in Winnerrow. Even George, usually quieter than a storefront Indian, asked unnecessary questions like should he get another napkin holder? Was that the right pitcher for the juice?
"Everyone, please," I cried, "let's just enjoy the breakfast. It's not so important that everything be perfect. It's wonderful just to be back here with you all. I love you and missed you all very much."
They all looked down at me again, this time their faces full of love and affection.
"Well, then, let's eat," Aunt Fanny declared, "fore it all gets colder than a spinster's bed."
"Oh my," Mrs. Avery said, pressing the palms of her hands against her bosom, and we all broke out into laughter and set ourselves around the table to begin.
"I made ya an appointment at the beauty parlor first thing this mornin'," Aunt Fanny announced.
"Well," Luke beamed. "It's a beautiful day. Why don't I wheel you down there."
"I'd like that."
Breakfast was cheerful. I couldn't remember ever eating as much, but Roland kept coming out of the kitchen with something else for me to try.
Right after breakfast Luke wheeled me slowly toward downtown Winnerrow, taking the same route we had taken all our lives: past the magnolia trees that lined the street, past the houses and other families I knew so well. It was a beautiful day, one of those rare late summer days when the sun was bright, the sky was crystal blue, and the air wasn't uncomfortably hot because a soft, cool breeze wafted down from the Willies. People waved from their porches; some came out to say hello and to express their sorrow over my parents' deaths.
"I feel a hundred years old and like I've been away seventy-five of them," I told Luke.
"Funny how different it looks once you go away and come back," Luke remarked. "I never realized just how small our Main Street really is. When I was little, it was as grand and as bright as Times Square, New York City, to me."
"Disappointed?"
"No. I rather like it. I think I'd like to come back here to settle down someday. What about you?"
"I suppose. First, I'd like to travel and see the world."
"Oh sure, me, too."
"Maybe your wife won't want to live in such a small town, Luke," I said, testing him with the painful reality I would wish to deny forever. But we were half brother and sister. Someday we would have to find someone else to love. Once Luke returned to college, I would have to face the fact once again that he wasn't always going to be here with me.
A pained look claimed his face. He squinted and wrinkled his forehead.
"She will if she wants to be my wife," he said angrily, despising the wife who wasn't me. He was so handsome and dangerous-looking when he lost his temper. Instead of turning crimson, his skin darkened and his eyes grew dazzling. "Besides, your mother returned to Winnerrow after living in a very rich and sophisticated world. If it was good enough for someone like her . . ."
I didn't want to tell him then what her real reasons were for returning.
"She was brought up here and she was coming back to a wonderful old house and a huge new business enteeprise. But off in a college like Harvard, you're going to meet girls who come from cities and towns much larger and livelier than Winnerrow. They might think it's quaint, but they'll want to be where they can go shopping in fine, expensive stores, eat in fancy restaurants, and see theater and opera and other glamorous things." I hated to say these things, but I
wanted him to confront the inevitable with me.
"I'm not interested in those kinds of girls," he snapped. "Besides, the same can happen to you. You'll meet a man who will want to take you away from here, a man who will be bored with this simple life."
"I know that, Luke," I said softly. It was so painful to think these thoughts, much less to say them aloud, but keeping them locked in our hearts was even more painful. It was one thing to fantasize and pretend, but it was another to lie to yourself. My short, horrible, painful and tormenting stay at Farthy taught me that.
"I know what," he chirped, suddenly looking bright and happy again. "Let the girl you think I'm going to marry and the man I think you're going to marry, marry each other. Then they'll be happy."
I laughed and shook my head. Luke wasn't ready to face the truth. Perhaps he felt he had to go on protecting me, that I was still too fragile.
"But Luke, what will happen to us then?"
"Us? You'll . . you'll stay a spinster and stay a bachelor and we'll grow old together in Hasbrouck House."
"But could we be happy that way, Luke?" I asked, wondering myself if we could.
"As long as I'm with you, Annie, I'm happy," he insisted.
"I feel as if I'm holding you back from a normal life, Luke."
"Don't ever say that," he pleaded. He stopped pushing my wheelchair. I looked back and saw the pain return to his eyes. He scowled like a little boy who was being teased and teased by older boys and was frustrated because there was nothing he could do to stop it.
"Okay. I'm sorry," I apologized, but he still looked as though he might cry. He shook his head.
"I mean it, Annie. I couldn't marry anyone unless she was just like you. And . . ." he added slowly, "there can't be anyone just like you."
He gazed at me so intently I felt my pulse begin to race. I quickly became aware that passersby and people in cars were looking our way.