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"I want the blue one," I said, deliberately rejecting whatever she had chosen. Without comment she put the green one back and took out the blue one. I knew I was being petulant, but I couldn't help it. I was angry about my condition.
I unfastened my dress and tried to lift it over my head, but when I had been placed on the bed, I had sat on the back of the skirt. I had to lie on my side and work the garment up awkwardly, grunting and struggling in a way that I was sure made me appear pathetic. Mrs. Broadfield just stood aside and watched me, waiting for me to call for help. But I was stubborn and determined and I turned and twisted my upper body until I worked the garment over my waist and then tugged it up over my bosom. For a few moments I felt stupid because I wasn't able to get it over my face. And I had exhausted myself with the effort. I had to catch my breath, and I couldn't believe how my arms ached. I was far weaker than I had realized.
Finally I felt Mrs. Broadfield take hold of the dress and complete the job. I said nothing. She placed the nightgown over my head and brought it down after I put my arms through the sleeve holes.
"Do you have any bathroom business?" she asked.
I shook my head. Then she guided my head to the pillow and brought the blanket up and over my body, tucking it snugly around the bed.
"After your nap, I'll bring you some l
unch." "Where do you sleep, Mrs. Broadfield?"
"Mr. Tatterton has set up a room for me across the hall, but I will spend most of my time in your sitting room and leave your bedroom doors open."
"This must be a very boring job," I said, hoping to encourage her to reveal something about herself, her feelings. I had been with her practically every waking moment for over two weeks, but I didn't know the first detail about her life.
"It's my life's work." She didn't smile after she said that, as most people might. She said it as if it were something that should be immediately obvious to me.
"I understand, but still ."
"It's not every day that I get to look after a patient in such rich surroundings," she added. "This looks like a very interesting house with very interesting grounds. I'm sure I won't be bored. Don't you worry about that. Worry about doing all you have to do to get yourself well again."
"You've never been here before?" I inquired.
"No. I had no reason to be here. Mr. Tatterton hired me through an agency."
"But the grounds . . the building . . ."
"What about it?"
"Don't you think it's all quite run-down?"
"That's none of my concern," she said sharply.
"You're not surprised?" I really wanted to say "disappointed," but I was afraid she would think me a very spoiled and ungrateful person.
"I imagine it must be an enormous expense to keep such a place up, Annie. Besides, as I told you, that's not my concern. Your health and recuperation are my only concerns. You should put most of your concentration on that, too, and not worry about how the grounds are being maintained. Are you going to try to get some rest now?"
"Yes," I said weakly. She was a good and efficient nurse, perhaps even an expert nurse when it came to someone in my condition, but I missed having someone warm and friendly to be with. I missed my mother, being able to run to her with every trouble, even if it was just a bad feeling. I missed bathing in the warmth of her eyes and the softness of her voice; I missed having someone who loved me as much if not more than she loved her own life. Mostly, I missed her wisdom, a wisdom I knew came from years of hardship and difficult experiences.
"Hard times ages ya like bad weather ages the bark on a tree," her Willies granny used to say, the very granny I'd been named for. "If yer smart, that's the tree yall lean on."
It hurt me to think I had no one to lean on anymore. Drake was already quite involved in his new and exciting business world. Luke was off to college and certainly occupied by all his new interests and responsibilities. I wasn't sure about Tony yet. He was so kind to me, and yet, yet, shadows hung over my thoughts. Why had Mommy been so set against him?
"I'll return in a few hours," Mrs. Broadfield said. "If you get thirsty, there's a fresh glass of water right here on the night table. Can you reach it?"
"Yes."
"Fine. See you soon."
She turned off the lights, closed the curtains tightly, and left the room.
Now that I was alone, I sat up in the bed to really study the room. What could it have been like for my mother the first night she was here? She had come to live with people she had never seen before, strangers to her, even though they were relatives. In a real way we had both come here as orphans: she made an orphan by her father, who sold away her family; and I, made an orphan by Death, jealous Death, who came and stole away my parents.
And she knew almost as little about her family background as I did. She must have gone through Farthy like an explorer, out to discover who she really was. Only, she wasn't at the mercy of nurses and servants and confined to beds and wheelchairs. She could at least explore.
Oh, I couldn't wait to get well again, to be on my feet and be whole. I couldn't wait for Luke to come and explore our childhood dreams with me.
