"Well, if he doesn't call or appear soon, drag him here myself."

"Oh no, Drake. He must come here on his own, because he wants to, not because he has to. I won't be thought of as some obligation!" That would be the most terrible thing of all, I thought. I'd feel like some burden to him, instead of someone he loved and wanted to be with.

"Of course. I'm sorry," Drake said. He looked away.

"Poor Drake. I didn't mean to shout at you just now. I'm sorry." It seemed Drake was all that was left of my family now . . . Drake and Tony Tatterton.

"Oh, that's all right. But tell me now, Annie. Why did you look so troubled before, if it wasn't because of Luke?"

"Help me sit up, Drake," I said. He got my seat pillow and fixed it so I could be comfortable. Then he sat beside me on the bed again. "Drake, I forced Tony to tell me why he and Mommy had their falling out."

Drake nodded, his eyes unmoving, but a slight smile on his lips.

"I knew you would . . . somehow. Can't hold you down, Annie. You're too much like your mother. Well? What terrible skeleton did you drag out of the closets of Farthy?"

I told him all of it, trying to be fair to Tony by explaining his reasons as he had explained them to me. As I spoke, Drake's face grew gray. Shadows, deep and dark, settled around his eyes. When I was finished, he turned away and remained silent for a long moment.

"Of course," he began, "I don't remember my father all that well. I was only five when he and my mother were killed, but I remember I had this beautiful fire engine, a Tatterton Toy that Heaven had given me, and whenever my father saw me playing with it, he always looked sad.

'You know who gave you that?' he would ask.

"Heaven,' I'd say. Of course, I forgot who she was or what she looked like, but the name stuck with me because he would always reply, 'Yes, Heaven, your sister.' And then he'd smile. There's no question that Tony did a terrible thing, but you are right to point out that my father bears half of the blame for sacrificing his daughter so he could own a circus.

"I think the time has come to forgive Tony, Annie. I loved Heaven almost as much as you did, and I don't think she would hate us for it."

Hot tears burned down my cheeks. All I could do was nod. He wiped away my tears and hugged me. "Now then," he said, standing up quickly. "I'd better get on my way. I want to return by late tomorrow. I'll bring everything directly to you."

"Please give Mrs. Avery and Roland and Gerald my regards, and Drake . . promise me you won't have any bad words with Aunt f.a.n.n.y. Promise me, Drake."

"All right, I promise. I'll just pretend she's not there, if she is."

"And tell her it's all right for her to come to visit me at Farthy,"

"Sure." He smirked.

"And you're not to say anything nasty to Luke." "Aye aye, commander." He performed a mock salute. "Please be careful, Drake."

"I will, Annie. We haven't got much more than each other anymore."

"Oh, Drake."

He hugged me and then he left. Although the doors were open, it was as if he had shut them and I was locked away. The silence that followed his footsteps was heavy and oppressive. Chilled, I pulled my blanket up around my neck and stared up at the high ceiling.

Luke with another girl, I thought, and even though I tried to keep the images away, I couldn't. I saw him with some beautiful college girl, sitting in the cafeteria, talking. I saw him walking hand in hand over the campus, and I saw him kiss her, hold her the way I had always dreamt he would hold me.

Everything was slipping away, everything I loved. All the world I had known and loved seemed consumed in fires of pain and tragedy. Everything, even my precious magnolia trees, were charred. I was like a small bird, exhausted from a long flight, searching desperately for a safe place on which to alight. But all the branches were burned.

I closed my eyes and dreamed of Daddy, his arms outstretched, waiting to receive me. But when he embraced me, his arms were made of air.

"No! No!" I screamed. I woke up screaming. Tony was at my side.

""11 had a terrible nightmare," I said, expecting he would want me to describe it.

"It's understandable, Annie." He sat on my bed and leaned over to stroke my hair. "After all you've been through, but when you awaken, you will be here, safe with me.

"Anyway," he said, continuing to stroke my hair lovingly, "soon the world will be brighter and happier for you. I have great plans for you. There are so many wonderful things I Want to do, changes I want to make. This place is going to come back to life and you will be the center of it. Like a princess," he added, and I couldn't help but think about Luke and our fantasies. The memory brought a smile to my face, a smile Tony a.s.sumed he had put there."

"See, you're feeling better already. Now," he added, leaning over to the night table to get one of my sedatives. "Mrs. Broadfield says you have to take one of these." He handed me the pill and poured me some water. I took it obediently. After he placed the gla.s.s back on the table, he leaned over to kiss me on the forehead. "Just close your eyes again and try to remain calm until sleep takes over." He stood up. "Sleep is a kind of medicine all to itself, you know," he explained, obviously speaking from personal experience. "Talk to you later. You all right now?"

"Yes, Tony."

"Good."

I watched him leave. Maybe it was a short time later, Or maybe it was in the middle of the night--I couldn't tell anymore because the sedative had confused me and jumbled up my awareness of time and place--but whenever it was, I thought I opened my eyes and saw a dark, thin, shadowy figure in my doorway.

He approached my bed, but for some reason I wasn't afraid. I felt him stroke my hair gently and then lean over and kiss my forehead. It made me feel safe, and I closed my eyes. I didn't open them again until I was awoken by the sound of Dr. Malisoff's voice.

FIFTEEN.

Like Mommy.

G.o.d morning, Annie. How do you feel?" Dr. Malisoff sat on the bed and Tony hovered a few steps behind him, looking like at expectant father, nervously rocking on his feet, his hands clasped behind his back. Mrs. Broadfield rushed in from the sitting room to bring the doctor a blood-pressure gauge. I struggled to sit up. I had slept deeply, but I didn't feel refreshed, and my lower back was stiff.

"A little tired," I confessed. Truly I felt exhausted, wrung out, but I also wanted the doctor to allow a phone and visitors.

"Uh-huh." He wrapped the blood-pressure cuff around my arm. "Has she been eating well, Mrs. Broadfield?" he asked without taking his doctor's eyes of me. They looked like little microscopes turned on csy face.

"Not as well as I would like her to eat, no, Doctor," Mrs. Broadfield replied like one schoolgirl tattling on another.

The doctor put on a face of reprimand and shook his head.

"I haven't had that much of an appet.i.te yet," I offered in my defense.

"I know, but you've got to force yourself to keep up your strength for the fight . . . Are you relaxing, Annie? You don't look relaxed." I glanced quickly at Tony, who shifted his eyes away guiltily.

"I'm doing my best."

"She hasn't been having visitors and such, has she?" Dr. Malisoff asked Mrs. Broadfield.

"I've tried to keep her quiet," she said without really answering. Why did she take everything so personally? I wondered. Was she afraid she would be fired as quickly as Millie was?

"I see." The doctor examined my legs, tested my reflexes and feelings, looked into my eyes with a small lighted instrument, and then shook his head. "I want to see more progress the next time I visit, Annie. I want you to concentrate more on your recuperation."

"But I am!" I protested. "What else can I do? I have no telephone. All I can do is watch television and read. Only Tony and Drake and Rye Whiskey, the cook, have come to see me." I couldn't keep the shrill sound out of my voice.

"I realize you're in a highly emotional state," the doctor said softly, obviously trying to keep me calm, "but the reason you were brought to this house was so you would have a serene environment, conducive to improvement."

"But what have I done that I shouldn't?"

"It's mental att.i.tude that we need now, Annie. The therapy, the medicine, none of it will work unless you want it to work. Think health; think about walking again, concentrate only on that and give Mrs. Broadfield one hundred percent cooperation, okay?"

I nodded, and he smiled, his reddish-brown mustache curling up at the corners. I didn't tell him about the pain and feeling I had experienced in my legs because there was something very important to be done before I could even think about myself.

"Doctor . . " I lifted my upper body by pressing my hands down on the bed. "I want to be taken to my parents' grave site. I'm strong enough to go, and I can't concentrate on getting better until I do." I didn't mean to sound stubborn and petulant, but I believed it was true.

He eyed me thoughtfully a moment and then looked at Tony. I saw the way their eyes read each other's and saw the slight nod in the doctor's head.

"All right," he said. "One more day of rest and then Mr. Tatterton will make the arrangements, but I want you to be brought right back here and given a sedative," he said after glancing at Tony again.

"Thank you, Doctor."

"And try to eat. You'd be surprised at how much energy a healing body needs."

"I'll try."

"By this time next week, Annie, I want to see those toes moving and I want you giggling when I tickle your feet, understand?" He waved his long right forefinger at me like a parent chastising a child.

"Yes." I smiled and lay back. He nodded and then started out, Mrs. Broadfield and Tony flanking him as he left. I heard the three of them whispering about me outside the bedroom door. They were in conference so long, I thought they might be thinking of returning me to the hospital. Tony was the first to return. He came directly to the side of the bed and took my hand into his. Then he shook his head.

"I'm angry at myself," he explained. "I feel rather responsible for your poor checkup. I shouldn't have permitted you to talk me into telling you all those sad and tragic stories in your parents' old suite yesterday."

"Don't blame yourself," I insisted, but now I was afraid the three of them had changed their minds about the service when they discussed me out in the sitting room. "Tony, you will take me out to the monument tomorrow?"

"The doctor has approved. Certainly, Ill make the arrangements for the service right now."

"Will you invite Drake and Luke? I want them to be there with me."

"I'll do my best. Drake should return from Winnerrow by dinner time tonight," he said, smiling.

"But Tony, you shouldn't have any trouble finding Luke," I cried. How could he even suggest that? And yet, what if Luke was busy with . . . with some new friend? He would miss the call and the message or get it far too late. I wanted him; I needed him. "Drake found him without much trouble."

"I don't suppose there will be any problem," he said. "I'll put my secretary right on it."

"Thank you, Tony. Thank you." He continued to hold my hand even as I fell back against the pillow. I closed my eyes. Even this little excitement made me feel weak and tired. I guess they were right about protecting me, I thought. I was thinking I would rest a little more, but Mrs. Broadfield wasn't about to let me sleep.

"Time I got her up and ready for breakfast," she told Tony. He nodded and released my hand.

"I'll return early this afternoon. Have a good morning."

My morning was the same, except I forced myself to eat every morsel of the breakfast. I didn't want Mrs. Broadfield or anyone coming up with a reason why I shouldn't go to my parents' monument the next day. What if Tony contacted Luke and he was coming and then it was all canceled? His trip here would be canceled. They would certainly forbid him to see me if I couldn't even attend my own parents' memorial service. The thought of losing an opportunity to finally set eyes on Luke put me in something of a panic. I had to calm myself down before Mrs. Broadfield took note.

After breakfast Mrs. Broadfield performed my morning therapy. I felt her fingers all over my legs, but I didn't say a word for fear that somehow she would use it against me to cancel the memorial service. Whatever pain I now had, I quickly swallowed, making my face as indifferent as possible, and then I spent the remainder of the morning lying in bed watching television. Sometime after lunch, a meal I again finished completely, Tony returned.

"Did you speak to Luke?" I asked him as he came through the doorway.

"No, but I left a message at his dorm. I'm sure he'll call later today, or perhaps he'll just show up at the service. An old friend of mine, Reverend Carter, will lead us in prayer. I've scheduled it for two o'clock."

"But Tony, you should have kept trying until you reached him! Maybe you can try again. Please, Tony!" I begged.

"I'll have someone try again, if I don't. Not to worry, my dear. Please, don't get upset over it."

"I won't," I promised.

Tony seemed surprisingly chipper, most likely because I hadn't decided to leave after his confession.

"You're probably worried about what to wear tomorrow, aren't you?" he asked, completely misreading my look of concern.

"What to wear?"

"You couldn't have a better selection from which to choose," he continued, and went to the closet. He slid open the door to reveal garment after garment.

"There is so much here; Heaven never got an opportunity to wear a lot of it. And the wonderful thing is, everything will fit you!

"Of course," he said, plucking a dress from the rack, "some things were her favorites. I remember she wore this to a funeral once." He held up a black cotton dress with long sleeves and a long skirt and then stroked it lovingly, as if he still saw her in it.

Then he turned to me, that faraway look in his eyes as he recalled a memory.

"Everyone stared at her, mesmerized, when she entered the church and walked down the aisle. Even Reverend Carter looked dazzled. I could see him wondering. Had an angel entered his church to attend the service?" Tony laughed and shook his head. "Just like her mother, black brought out her fairness." He smiled at me. "I'm sure it will do the same for you."

"I'm not worried about how I will look, Tony. I'm not doing this for other people."

"Oh, I know, but it does honor to your mother's and your grandmother's memories for you to wear something like this." He put the dress down on my bed and stepped back, his gaze hypnotically fixed on it. Then he considered me, "You know, Annie, if you died your hair silvery blond, you would be the image of your grandmother." He looked about quickly and settled on one of the pictures in the silver frames that was on the long vanity table. "Wait, show you what I mean." He got the picture and brought it to me. "See?"

It was a photograph of my grandmother Leigh when she was about my age, and I did have to admit that the resemblance was strong, and would be even stronger had I the light hair, too.

"Won't you consider doing it? Just for a diversion, perhaps, to amuse yourself while you're so confined.

I'll get the best hairdresser around to come up here for you. What do you say?"

"Dye my hair silvery blond? Tony, you're not serious?"

"Absolutely. I couldn't be more serious. Imagine everyone's surprise when they come to visit you."

"I don't know." I nearly laughed, but then I looked at my grandmother's photograph. There was something fascinating about her face . . her eyes, her nose, her chin were so much like Mother's and mine. Was this why Mommy had dyed her hair? I wondered.

"There are many pictures of your mother when she had light hair, too," Tony said, as if he knew what I was thinking. He brought me another photo in a silver frame. This one was of Mommy when she and Daddy had first arrived after their marriage. They were down at the private beach. I held the two photographs side by side.

"Interesting, isn't it?"

"Yes."