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I saw that it was nearly twelve. My bedroom
door was still shut, but the windows were open and a
cool, refreshing sea breeze drifted in. I turned to it,
longing to get myself outside again, and suddenly,
very faintly at first, but stronger and stronger as I
focused on it, I heard a familiar voice. It came from
below . . . at the front of the house.
"Luke!"
I heard Tony's voice as well.
Concentrating as hard as I could and directing
all my strength into my legs, I swung myself over the
side of the bed, but my legs gave me no support.
Whatever vitality had been reborn in them was gone.
Something Tony had given me sent my renewed vigor
back into hibernation.
"Luke!" I screamed. My voice echoed in the
empty room, the sound shut up with me. I let myself
fall to the floor, collapsing like a dress that had
slipped off a hanger in a closet. I twisted myself
around and began a slow struggle toward the window,
pulling and tugging the best I could, encouraged by the continued sounds of Luke's voice. I began to make
out some words.
"But she insisted I come," he pleaded. "She's not ready for visitors."
"Why did she call?"
"She didn't; she couldn't have. It must have
been a mistake."
"I've driven all this way. Couldn't I see her for
just a few moments?" he implored.
"The doctors advise against it."
"Why?"
