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I heard the ambulance siren blare away and vaguely realized that it was for me.
SIX Tony Tatterton
. I slept through the rest of the journey to the airport, but I awoke as they were transferring me to the air ambulance, and the realization of what was happening struck me like a hard, cold slap to the face. None of this was a dream; it was all true, all really happening. Mommy and Daddy were really dead, gone forever. I was seriously injured, paralyzed, all my dreams and plans, all the wonderful things Mommy and Daddy had hoped for me, obliterated in one fateful, horrible moment on a mountain road.
Everytime I awoke I relived the terrible memory, saw the rain blinding the car windshield, heard
Mommy and Daddy arguing about Daddy's behavior at the party, and saw that car coming at us. The visions made me scream inside, and ache so much that I was grateful when I started growing groggy again. Each time sleep came, it brought relief. Only each time I awoke, I had to face the reality and relive the horror once again.
Mercifully, I fell asleep again until we arrived at the Boston airport for transfer to the Boston hospital ambulance. Whenever I was awake I was impressed with Mrs. Broadfield's tone of authority and the way orderlies and attendants snapped to action when she issued a command. Once I heard her say, "Easy, she's not a sack of potatoes, you know." And I thought, yes, Drake was right. Pm in good hands, professional hands.
I drifted in and out of a deep sleep and awoke when we arrived at the hospital and I felt someone holding y hand.
I opened my eyes and looked up at Tony Tatterton. At first he didn't realize I had awakened, and I thought he had such a dreamy, far-off expression on his face, it was as though looking down at me had taken him away somewhere and left him there. When he finally noticed I was staring up at him, his face brightened with a smile.
"Welcome to Boston. I told you I would be right here when you arrived so I could greet you and be sure you had whatever you needed. Was your trip all right?" he asked with great concern.
I nodded. Yesterday when I had seen him at my bedside, everything was so unreal that my memory of him was vague. Now I had a chance to really see in the flesh the man I had imagined so many times. His eyebrows were perfectly trimmed and he was closely shaven. His hair was trimmed neatly, too, and the gray looked silky and rich, as it would after being washed and treated by a professional stylist. He was wearing an expensive gray and white pinstriped silk suit with a dark gray tie. All of his clothing looked brand new. When I looked at my hand in his, I saw his long, patrician fingers were well-manicured. The nails shone. Yes, he was far different from the Tony Tatterton described by Drake. His letter and phone call now seemed part of the imaginary world I had sometimes entered and abruptly left for this cold, cruel, real existence.
Tony let me scrutinize him and rested gentle, affectionate eyes on me as I did so.
"I slept through most of the journey," I said, my voice barely more than a whisper.
"Yes, Mrs. Broadfield told me. I'm so glad you're here, Annie. Soon you'll be going through the battery of tests the doctors have planned and we'll get right to the bottom of your problems so we can fix them." He patted my hand and nodded with the confidence and assurance of a man who was used to having things his way.
"My parents," I said.
"Yes?"
"Their funeral . . ."
"Now Annie, you must not think of that. I told you back in Winnerrow. I'm taking care of everything. You turn your strength and concentration toward getting yourself well," he advised.
"But I should be there."
"Well, you can't be there right now, Annie," he said gently. "But as soon as you are able to, I will have another service held at their grave sites and you and I will be there together. I promise. But for now, you're off to the best medical treatment money can buy." Then he turned thoughtful.
"But don't let my concern for the here and now and your immediate needs make you think I didn't love your mother very much. I was very, very fond of your father, too. As soon as I met him, I knew he was executive material, and I was so happy when he agreed to become part of my business. When your mother and your father lived at Farthy and we all worked together, I had some of the happiest years of my life.
"The years afterward, when they were gone, were the saddest and hardest years of my life. Whatever I had done to cause a rift between us, I want to undo by helping you, Annie. Please let me do all I can so that I can make it up to them. It's the best thing I can do to honor their memory." His eyes filled with pleading and sorrow.
"I don't want to stop you, Tony, but there are so many questions I need to have answered. For a long time I tried to get Mommy to talk about her days at Farthy and why she finally left, but she held it back, always promising to tell me everything someday soon. Just recently, right after my eighteenth birthday, she made that promise again. And now . . ." I swallowed hard. "Now she won't be able to."
"But I will, Annie," he said quickly. "I'll tell you everything you need and want to know. Please trust and believe me." He smiled and sat back. "In fact, it will be something of a relief to me to have you listen and judge."
I studied his face. Was he sincere? Would he do what he promised or was he just saying these things to get me to like him and trust him?
"I tried to make amends every way I knew how," he continued. "You received my presents, I hope, and I hope your mother let you keep them."
"Oh yes, I have them all . . all the beautiful and wonderful dolls."
"That's good." His eyes brightened; he looked younger. There was something in his face that reminded me of Mommy's . . the way he could telegraph his thoughts and moods with a twinkle in his eyes. "Whenever I traveled, I made sure to find special gift for you. I wanted you to have authentic artifacts, and those dolls were just the thing. I've lost track of how many I sent, but I bet it's quite a collection by now, isn't it?"
"Yes. They take up an entire wall in my room. Daddy always says I'm going to have to open a store. Everytime he comes in, he . ." I paused, realizing Daddy would never come in and never say those things again.
"Poor Annie," Tony consoled. "You've suffered a great, great loss. I'll never be able to do enough to ease your pain completely, but believe me, Annie, I'll do whatever is humanly possible. It's my mission in life now," he added with the same look of
determination I had seen so often in Mommy's eyes.
