Gates of Paradise (Casteel 4)

to get Heaven to talk to me, to answer my calls and letters, but she would have nothing more to do with me, and nothing I could do would make a difference.

"I retreated to the shadows, and I have been there ever since." He looked down and then he looked up quickly. "But what kept me alive was learning about you and about Heaven and Logan's life in Winnerrow. I had my people bring me reports about your progress, your growth into the beautiful young lady you've become, as well as reports about the success of the Willies Toy Factory and Heaven and Logan's wonderful life in Winnerrow, where they came to be respected and envied. I. . I couldn't help wanting to see you, to learn about you.

"Many times I toyed with the idea of simply appearing there, risking being thrown out of the house. I even planned to go to Winnerrow in a disguise and watch you from a short distance," he said, but in such a way that I wondered if he had indeed not done such a thing.

"You can't imagine how much it has meant to me during all these dry and lonely years to live with you and Heaven even vicariously, through stories," he said, and I saw the tears in his eyes and realized how deeply sincere he was. He had been waiting all these years for either Mommy's or my appearance at Farthinggale. How he had longed for it. I couldn't help but pity him for his desperate longing.

"Oh, Annie, don't think for one moment I wouldn't give all that I have to go back in time and change what I had done, but I couldn't. Please . . please don't hate me for it. Give me the chance to correct my wrong by helping you, by making you whole and well and happy again."

He took my hands into his, his eyes pleading, begging, beseeching me to accept him. I looked away and took a deep breath. My heart was pounding. I thought I might swoon again if I didn't get back into bed.

"I want to go back to my room, Tony. I need to rest and to think."

He nodded sadly, resignedly.

"I don't blame you for hating me, too."

"I don't hate you, Tony. I believe you are sorry for what you did, but I also understand now why my mother was so sad when it came to talking about her father and why she was so upset whenever we talked about Farthinggale and mentioned you. He died before they had a chance to reconcile with each other after so many years of estrangement. Unlike you, Tony, my grandfather never had a chance to ask for forgiveness."

"I know, and that knowledge will accompany me into hell." He wiped a tear from his cheek.

Forgive me, Mommy, I thought, but at this moment I couldn't help but feel sorry for him, too.

"Let me get some rest, Tony. Drake's coming this afternoon to get the list of things I want from Winnerrow, isn't he?"

"Yes."

He got up and came around my chair. I heard him take a deep breath and sigh. Then he began wheeling me out of the suite, out of the past and back into the present.

Tony sent Mrs. Broadfield up immediately after he brought me back to my room, and she helped me get back into my bed.

"I'll be right back," she said after I was settled in, "and we'll begin your therapy."

"I don't want to do therapy today," I replied.

"Of course you do. You can't skip a day. We have to develop a rhythm that your body will learn and depend upon," she lectured. "Now rest a few moments and return for our exercises. Your legs must be massaged, the blood made to circulate through your muscles. You don't want your legs to rot and fall off, do you?" she asked, smiling again, this time like some wicked witch. She pivoted about and walked out before I could respond, but that grotesque image remained with me.

I was like putty in her hands when she returned. All the while i waited for her, I thought about my mother discovering Tony had bribed her father to stay away from her wedding and stay away from her. I recalled how her eyes would become sad and distant whenever she talked about Luke. How sad it was that she had been denied the opportunity to have one more talk with him so they could forgive each other.

Yet the fault wasn't solely Tony's, I thought. Luke had agreed to the terms. He had been willing to reject my mother to own his precious circus. When my mother discovered the truth, that fact must have occurred to her and made it even more painful to bear. I could understand why she would be furious. Since Luke was no longer alive, she had to turn all that fury solely on Tony.

However, when I pictured Tony the way he had described himself--alone in this great house, regretting what he had done and unable to gain my mother's forgiveness, I couldn't help but pity him as well. Perhaps if Mother had seen him now, she would have softened. She was too compassionate and caring a person to turn her back on so troubled a soul.

No, I decided, I wouldn't demand to be taken from Farthinggale Manor. I was providing Tony with a way to work out his repentance. To leave would be to punish him even more, perhaps even to drive him to the same sort of fatal choice his brother Troy had made.

All these thoughts ran through my mind as Mrs. Broadfield kneaded my thighs and massaged my calf muscles. The stinging sensations returned even more sharply, but I didn't tell her. I would wait for the doctor, I thought.

She lifted and turned me this way and that. When I looked down, I saw her strong hands squeeze and rub my flesh until the pale white skin turned crimson, and when her fingers reached my buttocks when she had me turned on my stomach, I felt them . . . not accompanied by pain, either. I just felt them. The pressure was even annoying.

"I feel your fingers and there is no pain, Mrs. Broadfield."

"Really?" She continued, pressing even harder. "Yes, isn't that important?"

"Could be. I'll put it in my report." She rubbed on and on.

"Isn't it enough yet?" I finally asked.

She snapped back as if I had slapped her, and she immediately pulled my nightgown down so it covered me to the tops of my ankles. Her face was red from the effort she had expended and her eyes were as small as a rodent's. Just at that moment we heard voices in the hallway.