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"Even the doctor is no good? Annie, you should hear yourself. You're just overwrought because of all you've gone through . . . the accident, your crippled state . . the service at the tomb . . . I u
nderstand how you feel, but you really do have one of the best doctors and you are getting the best possible care here. I'm sure you'll have a new nurse by the end of the day and--"
"Oh, what's the use?" I said, lowering my head. He couldn't see what was going on here, or . . . I raised my head and looked at him. Or he didn't want to see because he was so happy about the new executive position Tony had given him. He was in love with his own power and authority. In a real sense, Tony had done something he had done before--he had bought Drake. "You just won't listen. I thought I could depend on you. With my parents gone, you and Luke and Aunt Fanny . . ."
I felt sick inside, sick and alone. My heart felt hollow, an echo chamber filled with my empty cries, cries that would be heard by no one because the people who had once really loved me were dead. Even Luke seemed dead to me now.
"Look," he said, reaching out to take my hands quickly, "I'm on my way to New York. I've got a rather big project all on my own to run. I'll be gone a few days and then come right back here, and if you still feel the same way about all this, take you back to Winnerrow myself."
"Will you? Promise?" Somehow, I didn't hold much hope for that.
"Of course. I'll simply take charge of your recovery myself, get our own doctors, our own nurses--"
"Oh, Drake, I wish you could do that now."
"Just give it a few more days, Annie. You might be jumping the gun here, and we could set you back by starting all over again. You've got to be sure it's the right decision, but ... if you are, I promise to help you."
He kissed me softly on the cheek and held me to him, and then he jumped up as if a buzzer had gone off in his businessman's head.
"I've got a plane to catch."
"But Drake, I thought you would at least take me downstairs to call Luke."
"There's really no point in calling him and calling him. He'll come when he wants to come."
"Drake, please," I begged, really begged to make him understand how important this was to me.
He gazed down at me a moment and then nodded. "I'll speak to Tony on the way out. He's sure to do it."
"But Drake--"
"Keep your chin up, Annie. Everything will be all right. You'll see. At least you've gone back to your painting," he said, pointing to the easel. He didn't even go over to look at my work. He smiled quickly, like some automated functionary, and waved as he backed quickly out of the room, obviously afraid I was going to insist on something that might bring him into a conflict with Tony. I was so disappointed in him, Drake, the uncle who had been more like a big brother to me, now acting more like some stranger.
In a moment he was gone and I was left with the silence that made me more aware of my
helplessness. I was alone once more, trapped like a wounded animal in a gilded cage.
More determined than ever, I wheeled myself to the door and opened it. Then I wheeled myself through the sitting room and opened the outside door. I wheeled down the corridor toward the stairway. Looking down, I saw there was no one below, but my second wheelchair was just where Tony had promised it would be--next to the foot of the stairway. I unfastened and lifted up the chair arm so I could pull myself into the elevator chair just the way Tony and the technician had shown me. Securely in it, the belt fastened, I pressed the down button and began to descend. My heart was pounding, but I was determined to be rebellious, determined to end this state of imprisonment.
The chair came to a halt at the bottom of the stairway and I worked my way into the wheelchair that waited. Encouraged by my success so far, I began to wheel myself over the carpeted corridor toward Tony's office.
The office door was slightly open. I paused, heard nothing from within, but pushed on anyway. A single small reading lamp was on at the desk, but other than that, the room was relatively dark, the closed curtains locking out the afternoon sunlight. I looked around. There was no one there. Where had Tony gone? I sat back in my chair, frustrated.. Then my eyes settled on the phone on Tony's desk.
Finally, an opportunity to speak with Luke myself! I wheeled myself to the desk. It wasn't until I picked up the receiver that I realized I had no idea how to reach him, I had no number. What was the name of the dormitory he was living in? Drake had never told me.
I dialed information and asked for Harvard. The operator, annoyed with my lack of specifics, began reading off a list of possible offices. When she mentioned the housing administration, I stopped her. A tape-recorded voice came on and recited a number. I called and explained what I wanted as soon as someone answered. The secretary was very kind. She told me most of the students hadn't gotten their phones hooked up in their rooms yet, but she gave me the number of the phone on Luke's dorm floor. I thanked her and dialed again.
A young man answered. He sounded like a Bostonian, a younger version of Tony.
"I need to speak with Luke Casteel. This is his cousin Annie. It's urgent."
"Wait one moment, please."
I waited, watching the office doorway, expecting Tony to arrive any moment. I couldn't help feeling that I was doing something he would disapprove of. I hated the idea that a mere phone call seemed so adventurous.
"Miss?"
"Yes?"
