Gates of Paradise (Casteel 4)

I heard Tony leave, and moments later Mrs. Broadfield returned to the bathroom. She loomed over me. My tears mingled with the droplets of steam that ran down my reddened cheeks. Suddenly her stone face softened and, like a wax bust a li

ttle too close to heat, her lips dipped, the corners of her mouth widened, her puffy cheeks drooped, and her eyes watered with sympathy.

"You poor child. If only you would have listened . . . to have such unnecessary pain on top of the agony already wreaked upon your tormented body."

She knelt down beside me and took a washcloth to my face to wipe away my tears.

"Just close your eyes and relax a little longer. I'll have you up and out of here in moments. We'll dry you off, dress you in a clean, crisp nightgown, and give you something to relieve the abdominal cramps. Then you'll sleep like a baby."

"I don't understand . . . nothing I ate before did this to me."

She lowered the washcloth to my neck and shoulders, wiping my skin in small, soft circles as lovingly as would one polishing fine china.

"You're in my hands now. Let me do my work and you'll recuperate as you should, when you should, Annie. Will you let me do what I am being paid to do?"

I nodded, my eyes closed now. The pain had eased some, although my stomach was still bubbling and threatening. Mrs. Broadfield ran her fingers down between my breasts and pressed the palm of her hand against my abdomen. When I opened my eyes, I saw her face was so close to mine I could read the pores in her skin, see the little hairs in her nostrils and the cracks in her lips.

"It's still very active in there," she whispered. She turned her eyes on mine, but she had a faraway look.

"Can I come out of the water now?"

"What? Oh . . yes, yes." She stood up quickly and reached for the towels. Then she helped me out of the tub and wiped my body dry. After I put on the new nightgown, she assisted my return to bed and gave me two spoonfuls of a gray, chalky liquid. Moments later the bubbling in my stomach ended and she then gave me a sleeping pill.

I did as I was told . . . closed my eyes and fell asleep, eager for the relief sleep would bring. Before I drifted off, I opened my eyes once and saw her standing beside me, looking down at me like a cat who had trapped its mouse in a corner and hovered confidently above its prey, now enjoying the torment it could lay upon its weaker and pathetic counterpart.

Tomorrow I would feel better, I thought, and tomorrow Luke would receive my letter and would come to me. I had a dream about him. In it he was a knight on a white horse. He came galloping through the tall gates of Farthy and came charging into the mansion, rushing up the stairs to my room. He threw open the doors and came to my bed, where he quickly embraced me. I was so happy to see him, I put all restraint aside and kissed him fully on the lips. My nightgown slipped off my shoulders and he pressed his lips to my naked breasts, closing his eyes and inhaling as if I were a rose.

"Oh, Luke," I moaned, "how I've waited for you, how I've longed for you."

"My Annie." He caressed me gently, making my body sing with every kiss, until the tingles reached my legs and filled them with renewed strength and life. "I must take you away from here so we can be free to be lovers forever and even"

He scooped me into his arms and carried me out and down the stairs. I was still half naked, but I didn't care. He put me on his horse and we rode off, away from Farthy. I looked back only once in the dream, and when I did, I saw Tony in a window watching, his face torn by sadness. Only there was also a dark, shadowy figure standing behind him. I couldn't see his face, but I felt sad about leaving him. I reached back, as if calling to him, and then I awoke.

All the next morning and part of the afternoon, I remained in bed. Mrs. Broadfield decided we would have to skip my therapy for one day. She had Rye Whiskey prepare hot oatmeal for breakfast and allowed me very sweet tea and toast and jelly the rest of the day. Toward mid-afternoon I felt strong enough to get into my wheelchair. A little after two o'clock Rye appeared, still dressed in his apron. Mrs. Broadfield had gone for a walk.

He entered, looking timid, remorseful. I knew immediately that he felt responsible for what had happened to me.

"How ya feelin', Miss Annie?"

"Much better, Rye. Now don't you go blaming yourself. There was no way for you to know what would and wouldn't disturb my digestion. Nothing you made had disturbed it before," I pointed out, widening my eyes for emphasis. He nodded thoughtfully. I could see there was something on his mind.

"Dat's what I was thinkin', Miss Annie. I didn't put nothin' inta the meal I hadn't put in befo'."

"It was my fault," I stressed. "I shouldn't have sent Mrs. Broadfield back with the food your helper had prepared."

"I'll say. She come rushin' inta dat kitchen, flames in her hair, and slaps the tray down. I jumped a mile. Den she says, fix your special chicken, vegetables and potatas. I was doin' it anyway for Mr. Tatterton, so I said, it's all ready, ma'am. She grunts and I dished out de platter."

"Then what happened?"

"Nothin'. I give it to her to take back, 'cause we ain't got the maid no more, an' she takes the tray.

Only I forgots the bread, so I come after her. I catched her because she stopped in the dining room to add in the medicine and--"

"Medicine? What medicine?"

Rye shrugged. "Medicine, she told me. To help you digest the food."

"I never had that before."