V. C. Andrews - Casteel Family Saga 4 Gates of Paradise

Season of Darkness

.

Tony was true to his promise: everytime he visited me, he brought a different surprise. He came twice a day, once in the late morning and once in the early evening. At first be brought boxes of candy and armfuls of flowers; then he simply had vases of fresh roses delivered every day. The fourth time he visited, he brought me a bottle of jasmine perfume.

I hope you like it, he said. It was your great- grandmother's favorite.

I remember my mother wore this scent sometimes. Yes, I love it. Thank you, Tony.

I sprayed some on immediately, and when he inhaled the scent, his eyes turned glazed and distant for a few moments. I saw him drift in and out of a recollection. What a complex man he was, and how much like my mother! How soft and caring and very like a little boy, and yet how strong and authoritative he could be! Like a child on a swing, he went back and forth from one personality to the next. A word, a scent, a color would drop him into the past, sink him into a pool of memories. And then, in the next moment, he emerged bright, keen, alert, ready to take

charge. Maybe we weren't so unalike. How often had

my mother or father come upon me to find me in a melancholy mood. The simplest things sometimes made me sad: a lone bird on a willow-tree branch, the sound of a car horn in the distance, even the laughter of little children. Suddenly I would find myself lost in my own heavy thoughts, and then, just as suddenly, I would step out of the shadows and return to the sunlight, unable to explain why I had been sad. Once, my mother found me with tears streaming down my cheeks. I was sitting in the living room, staring out at the trees and blue sky.

Why are you crying, Annie? she asked, and I looked at her with confusion at first. Then I touched my cheeks and felt the warm drops.

I couldn't explain why the tears had burst forth. It just happened

The next time Tony arrived at the hospital, his chauffeur, a man called Miles, accompanied him to carry several boxes. Tony directed him to place them on the table beside the bed. He opened box after box containing different silk nightgowns. The last box held a crimson silk robe.

"It was a color that looked wonderful on your

mother. His eyes were bright with his recollection. I still remember a wonderful crimson dress and jacket I bought her when she attended the Winterhaven School for Girls."

Mother wasn't happy there, I said, interrupting his pleasant memory. She said the other girls treated her mercilessly, and even though they were rich girls, they were not as compassionate and kind as poor people in the Willies could be.

Yes, yes, but it built her character to contend with them. What strong character she had! Winterhaven was and still is a highly academic school. They make their students work, and they supply them with intelligent teachers. I remember telling your mother that if she reached the top of their academic lists, she would be taken to teas and meet the people who really counted in Boston society. But you're right; she didn't like the people she met there. Oh well, he added, moving off the topic quickly, at least you'll be the best-dressed patient in the hospital.

I wanted him to talk more about the years my mother lived at Farthinggale Manor, but I thought it best to leave that until I was actually there myself.

When one of the Pink Ladiessweet, elderly women in pink aprons who volunteered to do charity

work at the hospitalcame by with the mail the next day, she had a small stack of get-well cards for me from some of my friends back in Winnerow, from my teachers, from Mrs. Avery and Roland Star, as well as cards from Drake and Luke. I asked Mrs. Broadfield to tape them all on my wall. I saw she wasn't happy about it, but she did it anyway.

The day after his card arrived, Luke and my aunt Fanny came to visit. Because I had a private room, they could come any time. My door was open, so I could hear Aunt Fanny coming down the hospital corridor. I probably would have been able to hear her even if the door had been closed. She and Luke stopped first at the nurse's station.

We're here to see ma niece, she bellowed. Annie Stonewall.

I couldn't even hear the nurse's response, she spoke so low, but Aunt Fanny didn't take a hint.

Well, why are ya private rooms so far away from the elevata? If ya payin' more, ya should get the convenience. This way, Luke.

My aunt's coming, I warned Mrs. Broadfield, who sat like a statue of stone by the door and read the latest issue of People magazine. Tony had sent up dozens of the latest magazines that morning, and Mrs.

Broadfield had organized them by the windowsill. My room looked like a library. Some of the regular nurses came by and asked if they could borrow this or that during their breaks. Mrs. Broadfield permitted them to, but she wrote down each and every one of the names next to the name of the magazine on a little pad.

Just remember where you got them, she warned.

She shifted in her seat when Aunt Fanny's footsteps grew louder. I could tell from the clickity- clack that she was wearing high heels and was all dolled-up for this visit. She stepped into my doorway wearing a wide-brim panama hat with a black velvet sash, a short-sleeved black denim jacket and tan demin skirt over a small striped tank shirt. Naturally, the skirt hugged her hips.

Despite the way she lived and the things she said and did, I had to confess my aunt Fanny was a very attractive woman, especially when she dressed fashionably. It was no wonder young men buzzed around her like bees around a hive.

Luke came in right behind her. He wore a simple blue cotton short-sleeve shirt and jeans, but I could see he had taken extra care with his hair. He

was so proud of his rich, dark hair. Other boys, envious boys, teased him because he gave it so much attention, never allowing a strand out of place.

Mrs. Broadfield stood up as soon as Aunt Fanny entered the room. She backed away as if she didn't want to chance rubbing elbows, and slapped her magazine on the sill.

Annie, dear! Aunt Fanny rushed over to my bed and threw her arms around me.

Mrs. Broadfield headed for the doorway.

Don't hurry, honey, Aunt Fanny responded. I nearly laughed aloud when Fanny turned back to me, her eyes wide, her lips curled as if she had just swallowed sour milk.

Luke came up on the other side of my bed, looking timid and out of place.

How are you, Annie?

A little better, Luke. I can sit up without getting dizzy, and I've begun to eat solid foods.

That's wonderful, honey. I jist knew once they gotcha inta a fancy place like this, they'd have ya up an' about in no time. Fanny peered down at me. That glum-faced nurse treatin' ya okay?

Oh yes, Aunt Fanny. She's very efficient, I reassured her.

Looks it. I guess ya gotta have someone like that ta count out the drops'a medicine properly, only she'd be enough to keep someone in a coma.

Everyone at school sends regards to you, Annie, and sends their condolences, Luke interjected, trying to steer the conversation away from Fanny's insults.

Thank them for me, Luke. And thank them for the cards. I just loved your get-well card. I nodded toward the wall.

Thought you would. He beamed.

Where's the card I sent ya? Aunt Fanny de- manded after she perused the cards on the wall. You sent a card, Aunt Fanny? When?

Days ago. I spent a lotta time pickin' out the best one, too. And I know I put a stamp on it, Luke, so don't accuse me'a forgittin', she added quickly, anticipating Luke's theories.