Part 11 (1/2)
”It's a beautiful dress, Tony. It's not the kind of thing girls wear today, but since it was my mother's . .”
”She looked beautiful in it, and anyway, Annie, you don't want to be a slave to fads. Something that is beautiful is timeless. Most young girls today don't realize that; they're victimized by fas.h.i.+on, by advertising, by pa.s.sing trends. I'm sure you've inherited your mother's good sense and you'll appreciate style that is enduring,”
I didn't know what to say. My mother wanted me to look nice, but she always allowed me to pick out my own clothes. She never tried to impose her tastes on me, and my father enjoyed seeing me in oversize sweats.h.i.+rts and jeans. Sometimes he called me ”Miss Be-Bop.”
Although, I suppose Tony was right, I did enjoy dressing up more than most girls my age. That was something I had inherited from my mother.
”I brought it for you to wear tomorrow, a special day, the day you leave the hospital and return to Farthy.”
”Return?”
”I mean, return with me to Farthy,” he corrected quickly. ”Besides, wearing something of your mother's will bring you good luck.”
I didn't need convincing. The next morning Mrs. Broadfield helped me put on the dress and wheeled me to the mirror over the sink in my hospital room. I couldn't see below my waist, but what I saw was enough to convince me that I did resemble my mother in the dress. Mrs. Broadfield was kind enough to help me with my hair so that I was able to brush it down the way I had seen my mother wear it in some early pictures. Although hers was a shade darker than mine, we had the same fine texture, and when we wore our hair in a similar style, we almost appeared like twins, When Tony came, his face lit up at the sight of me in the dress. I could feel his eyes almost drinking me in. He stared so long without saying a word that I began to feel uncomfortable. ”I'm ready, Tony,” I said to break whatever spell had come over him.
His eyes suddenly snapped to attention. ”Yes, yes, Annie, let's go.” He beamed as I had never seen him beam. He looked years younger, perhaps because he was wearing a summer-weight light blue suit that brought out the blue in his eyes. Gone was the paleness I had seen from time to time around his eyes. His cheeks looked rosy, his hair thicker and s.h.i.+nier than ever. With Tony at my side, Mrs. Broadfield began to wheel me out of the hospital room, down the corridor to the elevator. Once again the nurses on the floor wished me good luck and waved as I wheeled past.
My heart was pounding in my ears. The echo of that terrible accident on the Winnerrow road had died a little, but the sound of my father's voice when he called my name still lingered.
I looked back at the hospital floor as the elevator doors closed. The nurses and doctors had returned to their duties. I was just another name to be taken of the charts, a file to be stored now. Just before the doors closed, I remembered something.
”My cards! We left them on the wall!”
”Cards? Oh, your get-well cards. Don't worry. have them brought out to Farthy,” Tony promised, but it made me even sadder to think I had left them behind. Luke's funny card, Drake's beautiful card . I suddenly realized I wasn't bringing along anything from Winnerrow, anything from Luke. I wasn't even wearing the charm bracelet.
The elevator doors opened again and I was wheeled out to the limousine.
”Annie, this is my chauffeur, Miles. He knew your mother very well,” Tony said, eyeing Miles.
”Please to meet you, Miss Annie, and glad you've been released from the hospital,” Miles said and tipped his cap to me. I saw the smile in his eyes and on his lips, a smile of appreciation and happiness. I was sure I reminded him of my mother.
”Thank you, Miles.”
He opened the rear door. Mrs. Broadfield then directed my s.h.i.+fting from the chair into the car. Tony insisted on helping. He went into the car first and took me from Mrs. Broadfield, holding me tightly against his chest as he pulled me gently onto the seat. His lips grazed my cheek and he held me snugly against him. I was surprised at how tightly he held me, and thought he wasn't going to let go. But he did, and then he directed Miles to fold the chair and put it into the trunk. Mrs. Broadfield joined us in the rear and Miles started the car and began my journey to Farthinggale Manor, a journey I was sure I would never forget.
PART 2.
NINE.
Over the Threshold.
Mrs. Broadfield and Tony sat me on the rich suede rear seat so I could look out the window at the scenery. The day looked disappointingly overcast, but suddenly a brilliant sun peeked through the dreary clouds and I saw a wide patch of soft, aqua blue that reminded me of lazy summer days back at Winnerrow. Perhaps G.o.d was going to s.h.i.+ne his light on me after all, When I gazed back, I saw just how enormous Boston Memorial was, especially compared to our Winnerrow Community General Hospital. We pa.s.sed through the gates and through some of downtown Boston before getting on the major thoroughfare that would take us to Farthinggale Manor. The rows of houses came to an end and woods and long green lawns appeared with houses spotted here and there along the way.
”Comfortable?” Tony asked. He adjusted the pillow that Mrs. Broadfield had inserted behind my lower back and the rear of the seat.
”Yes.”
I was content just staring out the window now, watching the scenery fly by as we continued down the highway that would take us to Farthinggale Manor.
”I remember the day Jillian and I first picked your mother up at the airport to bring her to Farthy. Just like you, she looked so innocent and young, so wide-eyed and eager. I knew she was nervous. Jillian, your great-grandmother, didn't realize Heaven was coming to stay with us forever. She thought it was just going to be a short visit.”
He laughed. ”Jillian was very concerned about looking young and being thought of as young, so she asked--no, she demanded--your mother to refer to her as Jillian, and never as Grandmother.”
”My mother was upset about that.”
”She didn't let on that she was. She was a very wise and beautiful young woman, even at that early age.” Tony stared silently out the window, lost in thought. Then he sighed, and snapped out of his reverie. ”We'll be there soon. Turn your head to the right and look for a break in the treeline. The first glimpse of Farthinggale Manor is a sight to remember.”
”How old is Farthy?” I asked.
”It was built by my great-great-great grandfather in 1850, but don't let its age fool you. It's a grand place, as luxurious as any modern-day mansion. Many a movie star and entrepreneur have sent me offers.”
”Would you sell it?”
”Not at any price. It's as much a part of me as . . as my own name. When I was a boy, there wasn't a house anywhere in the world as fine as the one where I lived. When I was seven, I was sent to Eton because my father thought the English knew more about discipline than our private schools do. I was terribly homesick from the day I arrived to the day I left. Sometimes I'd close my eyes and pretend I could smell the balsam, fir, and pine trees, and the briny scent of the sea.” He closed his eyes, as if inhaling the perfumed air of Farthinggale right here in the limo, which smelled only of fine leather.
I felt the limo slow down and then turn onto a private road, and then there it was, looming above us: the fabled high wrought-iron gates with ornate embellishments that spelled out FARTHINGGALE MANOR. Imps and fairies and gnomes peeked between the iron leaves.
”It's almost as big as Luke and I dreamed.” I sighed.
”Pardon?”
”Luke and I used to play a game, a fantasy game, imagining what Farthinggale looked like.”
”You're about to find out, firsthand.”
The driveway seemed to go on forever and ever, and then a huge house made of gray stone suddenly appeared. It did resemble a castle. The red roof soared above the trees; and there were the turrets and small red bridges . . . just as they were in the plaque Luke had given me.
But there was much that was different from the Farthy of our dreams and fantasies, I thought, as I scanned the grounds. Drake's description, unfortunately, was the more accurate one.
The grounds were overgrown and unkempt, bushes untrimmed and flower beds overrun with weeds.
The house was as breathtaking in size as Luke and I had dreamt it would be, but it looked like it hadn't been lived in for years and years. Wherever there was wood siding or trim, it was peeling and cracked. The house looked gray and cold, the windows dark, the curtains closed like the eyelids of a dying old woman.
When the sun slipped behind the heavy clouds, the front of the great house took on a gloomy look.
Suddenly I felt chilled, apprehensive, and ever so lonely. I embraced myself. Here I would need all the warmth I could find.
Tony, on the other hand, smiled widely, his face full of excitement. He gave not the slightest indication that the degeneration of the grounds and the dilapidated look of the great building embarra.s.sed him. It was as if he didn't see it. I looked at Mrs. Broadfield to see if she was as surprised as I was, but she sat stone-faced.
”Farthy goes on for acres and acres,” he explained proudly. ”It is some of the richest land in the area, and we have our own private beach. When you're ready and able, I'll wheel you about and show you our stables, the pool and cabana, the tennis courts, the gazebo . . . all of it,” he promised. ”And you must think of it all as yours. Don't ever think of yourself as a guest here; you're more than a guest, far more,” he p.r.o.nounced as Miles brought the car to a stop.
Mrs. Broadfield got out quickly and came around to wait for Miles to get the wheelchair out of the trunk. I looked up the stairway at the great arching door. Even it had lost its grandeur. The wood had chipped off on the right side, as if some giant animal had clawed at it, trying to gain entrance into the house. How could Tony enter and exit from it every day and fail to have it repaired?
”You're here!” Tony exclaimed. ”You're actually here! Well, what do you think?”
”I . . .” I fumbled, not knowing what to say. I was disappointed, so very disappointed to see my dream mansion crumbling in disrepair.