Gates of Paradise (Casteel 4)

"Yes."

"Well, you should be standing a little more every day, and you should be taking steps."

"That's what I thought, but the doctor said--"

"Doctors may know some things about the human body, but they often don't know enough about the human heart." He got up and stood about two feet in front of me, just far enough away for him to hold out his arms. "I want you to stand again, and this time, I want you to try to take a step toward me."

"Oh, I don't know . I ."

"Nonsense, Annie Stonewall. You get to your feet. You're Heaven's daughter, and Heaven would not sit there pitying herself, nor would she remain at the mercy of other people long."

He said magic words. I swallowed hard and bit down gently on my lower lip. Then I took hold of the arms of the chair and willed my feet to move from the footpads to the floor. Slowly, scraping along, they did so. Troy nodded encouragement. I closed my eyes and willed all the-pressure I could down my legs.

"Make your feet one with the floor of the cottage," he whispered. "The soles of your feet are glued to that floor. Glued . . ."

I felt myself pushing. There was pressure there. My legs tightened, the wobbly muscles stretched, and I pushed down on the arms of the chair. Slowly, even better and smoother than yesterday, my body rose into a standing position. I opened my eyes. Troy smiled.

"Good. Now don't be afraid. Move your legs forward. Let go of the arms of the chair."

"I can't help being afraid. If I should fall . . ."

"You won't fall. I won't let you, Annie. Walk to me, walk to me," he chanted, holding his hands out just far enough away so that it would take one or two steps to reach him. "Walk to me . . come to me, Annie."

Maybe it was that plea, something in the sound of his voice so similar to the voice in my own dreams calling me out of the darkness and into the light, that gave me the will and the strength to attempt it. Whatever it was, it was enough. I felt my trembling right leg move just a little bit forward, the foot barely lifting from the floor. My left leg followed suit.

It was a step! A step!

I took one more and then my body failed me. It softened with the effort and I felt myself falling. But I fell for only a moment because Troy's arms were around me, holding me securely to him.

"You did it! You did it, Annie! You're on your way back. Nothing can stop you now!"

I couldn't hold back my tears. I was crying a rainbow of happiness, colored blue and yellow, and a veil of sadness, colored gray. I cried because of my success and I cried because I was in the arms of someone who I now knew could be warm and loving, but who was trapped in a world of dark days.

He helped me to return to my chair and then stood back, gazing down at me as proudly as a parent who had seen his baby take her first steps.

"Thank you."

"It is I who should thank you, Annie. You made the clouds part enough for some sunlight to come into my world today. But," he said, looking at the grandfather clock, "I had better get you back. If, as you say, they don't know where you are, they must be frantic with worry by now."

All I could do was nod. I was feeling

exhausted, and the prospect of lying in that big, comfortable bed upstairs in Farthy seemed

surprisingly inviting.

"Will you come to see me?" I begged him. My days at Farthy seemed suddenly brighter with the prospect of Troy to help pass the hours.

"No. You'll come to see me . . . on your own, very soon, I'm sure."

"And after I leave Farthy and return to Winnerrow, will you pay me a visit?"

"I don't know, Annie. I don't leave the cottage very much these days."

He started to wheel me out. The afternoon sun had fallen considerably since we had come through the maze and entered the cottage. Now long shadows were painted over the little lawn and garden. The maze looked much darker and deeper.

"You're cold," Troy said. "Wait." He went back into the cottage and reappeared carrying a light eggshell-white cardigan sweater. I put it on quickly. "Better?"

"Yes, thank you."