Part 17 (1/2)
”I know what the doctor said. Don't you think I've worked with more than one or two doctors in my time?”
”Yes, but--”
”Just try to relax as I work your legs, and when you think you've felt something, control yourself.” ”But--”
She started again. The pain was there, but I simply grimaced and stifled my groans. The effort exhausted me, so I had to nap before lunch. Mrs. Broadfield brought me my lunch and told me Tony had phoned and would be back shortly to take me through a short tour of the floor. Funny, I thought, how something so simple had become something to look forward to, the way I would have looked forward to a special date or a party or dance. Right now, being wheeled out of this room was as exciting as a trip across the country. How my life had changed! How much I had taken for granted!
One of the grounds people arrived and set up a television set for me. It came with a remote control so I could work it from bed. He was a stocky man with a face that looked like old, dry leather. Hours and hours of working in the sun had cracked his skin and crisscrossed his forehead and even his chin with deep lines. He said his name was Parson.
”Have you been working here a long time, Par son?”
”Oh no, just a little more than a week.”
”How do you like it?” At first I thought he didn't hear my question; then I realized he was thinking of how he would answer. ”I suppose there's a lot for you to do,” I added to encourage him to respond. He paused in his work to attach wires to the television set and looked at me.
”Yeah, there's a lot of work, but every time I start on something, Mr. Tatterton changes his mind and starts me on something else.”
”Changes his mind?”
Parson shook his head. ”I don't know. I was hired to repair the pool, so I started mixing the cement, but I only just got started when Mr. Tatterton come out and asked me what I was (loin'. I told him and he looked at the pool and then at me as if I was crazy. Then he says his father told him never to fix somethin' 'less it was broke. 'Huh?'! says. 'The hedges have to be trimmed all along the pathways in the maze,' he tells me, and sets me of to do that. Meanwhile, all the cement I mixed gets hard and is wasted.
”But he pays good.” Parson shrugged and went back to the television set.
”But what about the pool?”
”I ain't askin'. I do what I'm told. There, now this should work just fine.” He turned on the set and fiddled with the channels and controls. ”Want this on?”
”Not right now, thank you, Parson.”
”No problem.”
”Parson, what is it like in the maze?”
”Like?” He shrugged. ”I don't know. Peaceful, I guess. When you get deep in it, that is. You can't hear much on either side, and then . . I guess because it's so quiet, you imagine you hear things.” He laughed to himself.
”What do you mean?”
”Couple a times I thought I heard someone walking about in one of the corridors nearby, so I shouted, but there was no one. Late yesterday, I was sure I heard footsteps, so I -got up and found my way over a path and then another and another, and what do you think happened, ma'am?”
”What?”
”I got lost, that's what.” He laughed hard. ”Took me nearly a half an hour to get back to where I was working.”
”What about the footsteps?”
”Never heard 'em after that. Well, I gotta get goin'.”
”Thank you,” I called.
After he left I stared out the window. The sky was as blue as Mommy's eyes when she was radiant and happy. My eyes must be gray now, I thought, as dull as a faded, old blue blouse. But the world outside sparkled with life and light; the gra.s.s was deep green and looked cool and fresh, the trees were in full bloom, and the small, puffy clouds looked clean and soft like freshly plumped pillows.
Robins and sparrows flitted from branch to branch, excited by the prospect of a warm, wonderful afternoon. I would gladly change places with one of them, I thought, and become a mere bird, but at least a creature who could move about at its own will and enjoy what life it had.
Mommy and Daddy were gone, Luke was seemingly beyond reach, and I was shut up in this old house with only therapy and hot baths and medicine and doctors to look forward to. And for how long, I did not know, nor would anyone be able to say.
I snapped out of my self-pity when I saw Tony's Rolls-Royce approaching. When the car came to a stop near the cemetery, I wheeled myself as close to the window as I could get. I saw him get out and go to my parents' monument. He knelt before it and lowered his head. He remained that way for a long time, and then, suddenly, the mysterious man appeared again, approaching from the wooded area. Tony didn't seem to hear or see him approaching.
The figure stood beside him and then placed his hand on Tony's shoulder. I watched and waited, my heart suddenly thumping, but Tony didn't look up. After a few more moments the man left him and went back to the darkness of the woods. Then Tony got up and went back to his car.
It was as if only I knew the man had been beside him. I couldn't wait for Tony's arrival. I wheeled myself to the front of my bedroom and faced the door.
It was nearly two hours before Tony came to my room. I was dying to ask him about the man at the cemetery. I wanted to call for him, but I thought my curiosity was too trivial to justify making him come right up. He'll be here any moment, I kept telling myself, only the clock ticked and ticked and he didn't come. What was it Roland used to tell me whenever I was impatient--”A watched pot never boils”?
I tried to fix my mind on other things and looked over the books Tony had had sent up to my room. They were all novels by authors I had never heard of. Nineteenth-century writers like William Dean Howells. Some were described as ”period pieces.” Others were ”novels of manners.” It was as if Tony wanted me to live in a bygone age.
At last he appeared. Immediately, almost frantic with curiosity by this time, I asked him about the man in the cemetery.
”What man?” Tony's smile remained frozen on his face, but the warmth that had been under it momentarily slipped away.
”I saw him step up beside you when you were at my parents' monument.”
He stood there in my doorway blinking as though he had to refocus on the real world. Then he released a deep breath and came forward, his smile warming again.
”Oh, I keep forgetting you can see the family cemetery from your window.” He shrugged. ”He was only one of the grounds people. To tell you the truth, I was so involved. with my sorrow at that moment, I can't remember which one he was or what he wanted.”
”Grounds people? But Rye Whiskey said---”
”Anyway,” Tony chirped, slapping his hands together, ”it's time for your first tour of Farthy. Mrs. Broadfield says you have earned it. Are you ready?”
I gazed out the window again, looking in the direction of the cemetery and the woods. Clouds, as long and thin as witches' fingers, blocked the sun, laying shadows over my parents' monument.
”I should go to the cemetery, Tony.”
”As soon as the doctor okays it. Hopefully tomorrow. In the meantime I'll show you something special, something nearby.”
He came around my chair and grasped the handles. Why wasn't he telling me the truth about the man? Was he afraid it would disturb me? How could I get him to tell me the truth? Maybe Rye would know. I'd have to arrange it so Tony wouldn't know I had asked.
I felt his warm breath on my forehead, and he planted a soft kiss on my hair. The gentleness of that caress took me a bit by surprise. He must have seen it in my eyes.
”It's so good, so wonderful to have you here, and to be able to take you back through time with me.”
”But I'm an invalid, Tony, a sick, crippled person.” I don't think he heard me.
”To regain the beautiful memories, to seize happiness once again. Few men get such an opportunity once they have lost it.”
He began pus.h.i.+ng me out of the room.
”Where are we going?”
”The first thing I want you to see is the suite of rooms I had prepared for your parents when they came to Farthy for their wedding reception. They were so lovey-dovey, just as newlyweds should be.”