Gates of Paradise (Casteel 4)

"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, pushing 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 glass of

orange juice and some hot oatmeal with what looked

to be honey spread over it. There was the usual dry

toast and a glass 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