Part 31 (1/2)

WILL REGRET FOREVER!”.

My words finally found their target. He froze in a sitting position. To dramatize my resistance, I leaned forward and pushed on his chest with both my hands, driving him back. The effort took all my strength and I collapsed against the pillow.

”What?” he said, as if he heard voices I couldn't hear. ”What?”

”Go away,” I pleaded in a strained voice. ”Go away. Leave me alone.”

”What?” He turned and stared into the darkest shadows of the room. Was he imagining someone there? Were one of Rye Whiskey's ghosts calling to him? Perhaps it was the ghost of my great grandmother, or even the ghost of my grandmother demanding he leave me be. ”Oh, my G.o.d,” he said to himself. ”Oh, my G.o.d.”

He stood up and looked back at me. I waited, my heart pounding. What was going through that twisted and tormented mind? Was he returning to reality or was he taking some other channel through the maze of his madness to find himself on my bed again?

”I'm ,.. I'm sorry,” he whispered. ”Oh, I'm so sorry. .” He knelt down and scooped up his robe. Then he quickly put it on, tying the belt snugly. I watched without speaking, afraid that the sound of my voice might set him back. ”I . . . I've got to . . . to go,” he said. ”Good night.”

I held my breath and barely turned my head as he moved away from the bed and out the door. In a moment he was gone, but my heart didn't stop its racing. I was terrified he would return, and I was just too weak and too overwhelmed to struggle out of bed and crawl out of the suite.

I was sweating so much my nightgown stuck to my skin. I had to get out of this place. I had to convince Drake or Luke or someone to take me away immediately. But Drake was in New York. And what if Luke didn't come? Panicked, desperate, my mind raced like a caged bird. Rye Whiskey! I must get him to help me! Or Troy! Or Parsons! Anybody! Please somebody help me get away from this madman! What had he done to my grandmother to make her run away? I could barely stand to think about it. The only thing that comforted me was the realization that it would soon be morning. I embraced myself as tightly as I could, the way Mommy would hold me to her whenever I had a bad dream and she came to my bed.

And this was more than a bad dream. This was a living nightmare. I was afraid to fall asleep again, afraid that I would awaken once more to Tony naked at my side, but my eyelids grew heavy and I slipped into an exhausted slumber.

”Good morning,” Tony sang cheerfully. My eyelids fluttered open and I saw him opening the curtains wide. The bright sunlight turned away each and every shadow. He raised the windows to permit more air, and the curtains began a happy little jig over the windowsill. I didn't lift my head from the pillow.

Instead, I lay there silently, watching him move about the room. He was dressed in a clean, light blue silk robe and looked unbelievably chipper. Was he pretending so I would think that none of what happened last night really happened?

”I'll have your breakfast in a jiffy,” he said.

”Being nice to me this morning isn't going to help, Tony. I haven't forgotten last night.”

”Last night?” He turned, smiling. ”Oh . . last night. You mean when I yelled at you downstairs. I've already explained and apologized for that, Annie. You shouldn't hold grudges. All of us make mistakes.” ”I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about when you came to my room in the middle of the night,” I snapped. I no longer felt any compa.s.sion for him. He had to bear responsibility for what he was doing, and one way or another, I was determined to leave the house today.

”What? You had another dream? You poor child. What you are going through.” He shook his head, pressing his lips together like a concerned grandfather. ”Oh well,, once we get something substantial in your stomach--”

”I want my wheelchair. I'm going downstairs to the phone,”

”Wheelchair? Oh no, Annie, not today. You need at least one day's complete rest after what you've gone through. Ill bring your breakfast to you in bed today. Won't that be nice?”

”I WANT MY WHEELCHAIR!” I demanded in the strongest voice I had ever turned on him. He stared at me a moment and then started to walk away as if he didn't hear me.

”TONY!”.

He didn't turn back, and this time when he left my room, he closed the door.

”YOU CAN'T KEEP ME LIKE A.

PRISONER!” I got myself into a sitting position and slowly brought my legs over the side of the bed. I did feel weak and tired, but my determination was strong.

I would leave the room, even if I had to crawl out. I had to get help, get to Rye. I was sure he would help me.

I started to lower my feet toward the floor when Tony came bursting back in again, carrying my breakfast tray.

”Oh no, Annie. You want to sit up with your back to the headboard so I can put the bed table over your legs.”

He put the tray down on the night table and took hold of my upper arms, pus.h.i.+ng me back and turning me. My feeble resistance had no effect. ”Please,” I cried. ”Please. Let me up.” ”After you eat and rest, I'll see how you are, Annie. That's a promise.” He smiled as though we were the best of friends and began to set up my bed table. Then he put my breakfast tray on it and stepped back, the corners of his mouth drawn up in a clownish grin.

He was mad, I thought. Something had definitely snapped in him last night. There was no point in trying to reach him.

I gazed down at the tray. There was a gla.s.s of orange juice and some hot oatmeal with what looked to be honey spread over it. There was the usual dry toast and a gla.s.s of low-fat milk. Rye hadn't prepared this breakfast. Tony must have gotten up early and done it all himself. With him standing over me as he was, I thought I might just as well eat and get some energy in my body. I drank the juice and spooned in some of the oatmeal. The toast tasted like a piece of cardboard, but I washed it down with gulps of milk.

He nodded, his face locked in a maddening smile. After I finished and sat back, he lifted the tray and then removed the table.

”There now,” he said, ”that should make you feel so much better. It does, doesn't it? Now, do you want me to rub in some body oils?” he asked. ”No,” I said as emphatically as I could. ”No? You mean no because you feel much better?” ”Yes,” I said through my tears. ”Please, please, get e my wheelchair.”

”After your morning nap, we'll see,” he said. He went to the dresser and took out a new red nightgown, another of the ones he had brought to me at the Boston Me orial Hospital. ”You should put on a fresh nightgown. I think this one suits you, don't you? I always liked scarlet on you.” He brought it to the bed.

I sat there with the covers pulled tightly to my neck.

”Come on, now. A fresh nightgown will make you feel so much better.”

I didn't think he would leave me alone until I had put on the red gown, so I took it from him. He stood back to watch me take off the one I was wearing and slip this one over my body. I did it all as quickly as I could.

”Now, doesn't that feel good?”

”Yes,” I said, giving him what he wanted. I was even more frightened because instead of feeling awake and energetic as I had hoped I would feel after eating the breakfast, I felt drowsy and tired again. His voice sounded faraway.

”I want . . want . .

”You want to sleep. I know. I expected it. A nice rest.” He pulled the blanket up and around me, tucking it in tightly like a straightjacket.

”No . 1.. .”

”Sleep, Annie. Sleep, and you will feel so much better when I return. All those ridiculous nightmares will be gone when you wake up again.”

I tried to speak, but I couldn't form the words.

My lips felt sewn shut. In moments I was asleep again, my last conscious thought being he had put a sedative in the breakfast.

The next time I awoke, I was very disoriented. I had no idea what time of day it was. Slowly, in what seemed more like hours than minutes, I managed to get the tightly tucked blanket off me and pulled myself up on the pillow. I lay back, breathing hard, my heart racing.

I saw that it was nearly twelve. My bedroom door was still shut, but the windows were open and a cool, refres.h.i.+ng sea breeze drifted in. I turned to it, longing to get myself outside again, and suddenly, very faintly at first, but stronger and stronger as I focused on it, I heard a familiar voice. It came from below . . . at the front of the house.

”Luke!”

I heard Tony's voice as well.

Concentrating as hard as I could and directing all my strength into my legs, I swung myself over the side of the bed, but my legs gave me no support.

Whatever vitality had been reborn in them was gone.

Something Tony had given me sent my renewed vigor back into hibernation.

”Luke!” I screamed. My voice echoed in the empty room, the sound shut up with me. I let myself fall to the floor, collapsing like a dress that had slipped off a hanger in a closet. I twisted myself around and began a slow struggle toward the window, pulling and tugging the best I could, encouraged by the continued sounds of Luke's voice. I began to make out some words.