Gates of Paradise (Casteel 4)

"I will. He's doing exceptionally well. He'll make a very good executive because he has selfassurance and ambition. In some ways he reminds me a little of myself at his age," he added, a note of pride in his voice. Mrs. Broadfield accompanied Tony out of the room, closing my door softly behind her.

No more phone calls; no visitors. Oh well, it would be just for a little while, I thought, and soon I'd be at Farthy. Perhaps the magic Luke and I believed resided there would work its way into me and speed up my recovery.

Mrs. Broadfield, because of what I assumed were the doctor's orders, turned herself into a fortress. Even the Pink Ladies had to go through her to get to me. Most of the time, now, my door was kept closed. I hated all this protection. Whenever I was left alone, I cried for my parents. When Mrs. Broadfield found me drenched with tears, she chided me and warned me about bringing on another emotional collapse. But I couldn't help it. All I could see was my mother's beautiful smile, a smile I would never see again; all I could hear was my father's wonderful warm laughter, laughter I would never hear.

True to his promise, the next day Tony came to the hospital immediately after he had spoken with Luke. I listened as he related Luke's description of our graduation.

"The weather was perfect, not a cloud in the sky. He said the audience fell into a hush after he was introduced and took his position at the podium. He wanted me to be sure to tell you that when he was finished, he received a standing ovation." Tony smiled. "He said his mother was the first to jump up, but everyone followed right along. And everyone asked about you."

"Oh, Tony, I feel so bad about his not being able to call me," I said, and moaned.

"No, no. He understands completely. He's a fine lad, concerned only about your welfare. He told me repeatedly to let you know you shouldn't worry about him. Just recuperate as quickly as you can." Then his face lit up like a beacon and he gathered himself up into an announcer's posture. "And now, the words you've been waiting for: Dr. Malisoff has signed your release. I'm taking you to Farthy tomorrow morning."

"Really?" The news both excited me and made me anxious and sad. I was finally going to see Farthinggale Manor, the place I had dreamt of going to all my life, my fairy-tale castle. But now I was going under a cloak of mourning. My mother and father weren't taking me there, and I wasn't going to walk up those tall and wide steps and through that arching front door. Ill be carried up and enter Farthinggale a crippled orphan.

"Why so sad a face?" His smile weakened.

"I was just thinking about my parents and how wonderful it would have been if all of us would have gone to Farthinggale together."

"Yes." His eyes took on that glazed, far-off look again. "That would have been wonderful. Anyway," he said, snapping back quickly, "I've gotten you the most comfortable wheelchair made. It will arrive this afternoon and Mrs. Broadfield will help you get used to it."

"Thank you, Tony. Thank you for everything you've done and are doing."

"I told you how to thank me--get better quickly?' "I'll try."

"Tomorrow, then, you will begin your journey back to happiness and health."

He leaned over and kissed my cheek, but paused and closed his eyes before his lips touched my skin. He inhaled deeply.

"Wearing the jasmine, I see. Well, we've got gallons of it at Farthy." He kissed me, his lips lingering longer than I expected. He stood up straight and gazed down at me with the most intense look I had yet seen. "There is much that awaits you at Farthy, much that is yours to inherit and enjoy."

"I can't wait to see it."

About an hour after he left, the wheelchair was delivered. Tony had had them wrap it in a large pink ribbon. Mrs. Broadfield took it off quickly and folded it out. It had shiny chrome arms and legs, a brown, soft-leather seat and back, and suede armrests. Even the footrests were padded.

"Mr. Tatterton must have had this custom built,"

Mrs. Broadfield commented. "I've never seen one like it."

She wheeled the chair alongside the bed, and I got my first taste of what it was going to be like to be lifted out of bed in the morning and into my chair.

First she brought the head of the bed up as far as it would go so I was in a sitting position. Then she came around and peeled the blankets off my body. She lifted my legs and turned me so my legs dangled over the side of the bed. They felt loose, barely attached, although there was no pain in them, no feeling whatsoever.

After she had turned me, Mrs. Broadfield came around, put her arms under my armpits, and lifted me so that I could slide off the side of the bed and into the chair, the right arm of which was folded down for my entry. It embarrassed me. I felt like an infant. I hated the dependency, but there was nothing I could about it.

Once I was in the chair, she snapped the right arm back into place and adjusted the footpads so my feet were safely placed on them.

"This little lever will lock the chair so it won't roll. You don't have to push hard to get it moving. Just make gentle, easy strokes and let the momentum carry you forward. Take hold of this metal rim when you want to make a turn to the right, or that metal rim when you want to make a turn to the left. Go on, practice now," she commanded, and I wheeled myself about the room.

How I wished Drake or Luke were here, too, I thought. I longed for their support. Drake would say I looked like a little girl in a toy wagon or on my first tricycle. Luke would look for something humorous to say, too; only his eyes would reveal his deep sadness. Mrs. Broadfield watched me, gave me more advice, and then decided I had had enough. She wheeled me back to the bed and reversed the order of movements to return me to it. Then she pushed the chair away and went out to see about my dinner.

I lay there staring at the chair, realizing that it and I would have to become good friends. Although Tony had gone to great effort to make it look like an ordinary chair, a comfortable chair, he couldn't hide its true purpose. I was an invalid, a cripple sentenced to dependence on other people and mechanical aids. All the money and all the expensive help in the world couldn't change that. Only I could change that; and I was determined to do so.

There was so much excitement around me the next day that Mrs. Broadfield almost shut my door to isolate me until it was time to go. Regular hospital nurses who had often stopped by to chat or borrow a magazine came to say good-bye and to wish me good luck. Some of the nurse's aides and orderlies came by, too. And my Pink Lady made a point to get to me as early as possible.

The night before, Tony had brought me a box containing a mauve dress. Although it looked brand new, I realized it was a style worn twenty-five or thirty years a

go.