"I thought you were hungry."

"I am, but I was expecting something different . . something Rye made. Everything he makes is special."

"He's been using too much spice and making your food too exotic."

"But I like it; I eat everything now, and that's what Dr. Maiisoff wanted, isn't it?" I protested.

"He also wants you to eat things that are easy to digest. Considering your condition--"

I slammed down the lid over the plate. Something proud sprang into my spine. I could put ice into my words, too, I thought. I sat back, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I want something Rye makes. I won't eat this."

She stared down at me. I knew she was burning with anger, but she kept her eyes clear, calm, and unreadable. There was even a small, tight smile around her lips.

"Very well." She took the tray. "Maybe you're not as hungry as you think."

"I am hungry. Tell Rye to make me something."

"Something was made for you; you don't want it," she said as if stating the obvious, simple fact.

"I may be crippled, but I still can enjoy food. Ask Tony to come here, please," I instructed.

"You don't realize how you're acting, Annie. I'm just trying to do what I know is best for you."

"I have had no trouble digesting anything Rye has made so far."

"All right," she said, relenting. "If you have to have something he makes,Ill ask him to fix the chicken."

"And I want him to fix the vegetables and potatoes, too. And I want some of his homemade bread."

"Don't complain later when you have stomach problems," she said before leaving. She just had to have the last word. But I saw how to get her to do what I wanted--just ask for Tony.

Tony arrived before Mrs. Broadfield returned with my new food.

"Well now, how are you feeling?"

"Tired, but hungry. I'm waiting for Mrs. Broadfield to return with something Rye Whiskey makes. I don't want to be troublesome, but I didn't like what she had brought me." I told him because I thought she would complain to him about me later and give only her side of the story.

"Don't you worry about that," he soothed. "You're no trouble. I'm sure Rye wouldn't mind cooking around the clock for you."

"No, I know he won't mind."

"You sound irritable."

I didn't respond for a few moments, and then I turned to him abruptly.

"Tony, I know Mrs. Broadfield is a professional and I'm lucky to have a nurse who has experience with my problems and who is a therapist as well, but she can be very trying."

"I'll speak to her," he said. His eyes were soft and sympathetic, and I trusted he knew just what I meant. "My main concern is that you be happy, Annie. Everything else comes second. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Tony. I do appreciate what you have been doing." I felt myself calm down. Then I remembered the letter in my lap.

"Tony, I have written another letter to Luke. Would you please see that it is delivered to him . . . special delivery, so he gets it immediately."

"Of course."

He took it from me and put it into his suit jacket quickly.

"Let me go down and look into your food. Can't have you going hungry long in my house."

"It's all right now. I can wait."

"I'll just look into it anyway. AndIll speak to Mrs. Broadfield."

"I don't mean to make extra trouble."

"Nonsense. I told you. You come first. It's the way I want it," he a.s.sured me, and pivoted on his heel. "Oh, Tony . ."

"Yes?" He turned back at the door.

"Is there someone else here? A woman?"

"A woman? You mean besides Mrs.

Broadfield?" His blue eyes narrowed.

"Yes. I wheeled myself out before and wandered into another suite, just like this one, and---"

"Oh." He took a few steps back. "You mean you went to Jillian's suite."

"Jillian's?" But Jillian had been dead so long, I thought. That suite looked like it was being used today.

"Yes. I must have left the door open. I usually don't like anyone going in there," he said, his tone harder and sterner than it had ever been.

"I'm sorry. I--"

"That's all right," he said quickly, "no harm done. I've kept the room just the way it was the day she died. It's always been hard facing the fact that she's gone."

"Why are all the mirrors gone?"

"That was part of her madness toward the end. Anyway, there's no one else here," he said quickly. Then he forced a laugh. "Don't tell me you, too, are seeing Rye's ghosts." He shook his head and strutted off.

Another room kept like a museum? Did Tony move from one moment in the past to another, keeping his memories vivid by keeping up the illusion of Jillian still being here? I could understand why a lonely man might hold onto mementoes, pictures, letters, things that had a special and loving meaning for him, but to keep her room the way it had been the very day she died . . that was eerie. A chill pa.s.sed through me and for the first time I wondered if it wasn't time for me to demand I be returned to Winnerrow.

Shortly afterward, Mrs. Broadfield returned with a new tray of food. This time she had brought me some of Rye's famous fried chicken, his special whipped potatoes, and steamed vegetables that smelled fresh and delicious. I was so hungry and everything looked so good, I gobbled my food.

Mrs. Broadfield stood back, her face expressionless but her eyes cold. It was as if she wore a mask and only her eyes peeped through this granite face. She went into the sitting room and returned soon after I had completed my meal.

"It was delicious," I said.

"Do you want me to help you back into bed?"

"No, I think I'll remain sitting up in the chair and watch television."

She took the tray and left. I took the remote control and turned on the television set. I settled on a movie I had never seen and sat back, but what seemed to be only minutes later a sharp pain stabbed across my abdomen. I groaned and pressed my palms against my belly. The pain ceased and I sat back, taking deep breaths; but then it came again, this time with a great deal more ferocity, tearing up and down my stomach and sending pain into my chest.

I heard my stomach bubble. I knew that I was going to have an accident any moment.

"Mrs. Broadfield!" I called. "Mrs. Broadfield!" I screamed. But she didn't respond. I started to wheel myself toward the doorway. "Mrs. Broadfield!"

It was happening. My body was rebelling.

"Oh no. Mrs. Broadfield!"

By the time she arrived, I was doubled up in the wheelchair and a mess.

She stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips, a sharp, cold smile of self-satisfaction carved on her stone face.

"Don't say I didn't tell you so," she said, shaking her head.

Bent over in the chair, I could only moan and plead for her to help me.

SEVENTEEN.

Mrs. Broadfield's Revenge.

Mrs. Broadfield wheeled me in to the bathroom quickly. She began to fill the tub, and then she stripped me down, peeling the clothing off me roughly. I felt like a ripe banana in the hands of a starving monkey. If she could have torn off my skin, I think she would have done it. All the while she said nothing, but I could read the repeated "I told you so's" in her furious eyes. I moaned, still clutching my stomach.

"It feels like someone's in there lighting matches," I cried, but my complaints fell on deaf ears. She wiped me down with some towels and then, pulling me up and tugging me out of the wheelchair, she literally dumped me into the hot water. She was very powerful for a woman her size.

As soon as I was submerged, she turned off the faucet and I slipped lower and lower until the water was up to my neck. Although it was as hot as ever, it seemed to bring some relief. I closed my eyes and lay back, still whimpering softly.

But I opened my eyes as soon as I heard Tony. He had heard the commotion and had come running to my aid.

"What's wrong?" he called from the sitting room.

"Close the bathroom door!" I pleaded.

Mrs. Broadfield smirked, "Just sit there and soak," she commanded and left the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind her. Even so, I overheard their conversation.

"Has something happened to Annie, Mrs. Broadfield?"

"I pleaded with her not to eat those spicy, exotic meals your chef often makes. I even had the other cook prepare something proper and nutritious, but she was stubborn and insisted on having your chef's food, so I had to go back and have him prepare it."

"I know, but--"

"Her stomach is sensitive, as is most of her body. I tried to explain, but she is in a rush to recuperate, and like most teenagers, won't listen to older people who have experience."

"Should I send for the doctor?" he asked anxiously.

"No, I can handle it. She will be uncomfortable for a while, but there is no need to send for the doctor."

"Is there anything I can do?" G.o.d bless Tony, I thought. He sounded so concerned, his voice full of worry and sympathy in contrast to Mrs. Broadfield's stern, correct tones.

"No, get her cleaned up, medicated, and comfortable. By morning she should be better, but her stomach will be even more sensitive. What you can do is speak to that chef and tell him to prepare food exactly as I instruct him from now on."

"I will.'

I heard Tony leave, and moments later Mrs. Broadfield returned to the bathroom. She loomed over me. My tears mingled with the droplets of steam that ran down my reddened cheeks. Suddenly her stone face softened and, like a wax bust a little too close to heat, her lips dipped, the corners of her mouth widened, her puffy cheeks drooped, and her eyes watered with sympathy.

"You poor child. If only you would have listened . . . to have such unnecessary pain on top of the agony already wreaked upon your tormented body."

She knelt down beside me and took a washcloth to my face to wipe away my tears.

"Just close your eyes and relax a little longer. I'll have you up and out of here in moments. We'll dry you off, dress you in a clean, crisp nightgown, and give you something to relieve the abdominal cramps. Then you'll sleep like a baby."

"I don't understand . . . nothing I ate before did this to me."

She lowered the washcloth to my neck and shoulders, wiping my skin in small, soft circles as lovingly as would one polishing fine china.

"You're in my hands now. Let me do my work and you'll recuperate as you should, when you should, Annie. Will you let me do what I am being paid to do?"

I nodded, my eyes closed now. The pain had eased some, although my stomach was still bubbling and threatening. Mrs. Broadfield ran her fingers down between my b.r.e.a.s.t.s and pressed the palm of her hand against my abdomen. When I opened my eyes, I saw her face was so close to mine I could read the pores in her skin, see the little hairs in her nostrils and the cracks in her lips.

"It's still very active in there," she whispered. She turned her eyes on mine, but she had a faraway look.

"Can I come out of the water now?"

"What? Oh . . yes, yes." She stood up quickly and reached for the towels. Then she helped me out of the tub and wiped my body dry. After I put on the new nightgown, she a.s.sisted my return to bed and gave me two spoonfuls of a gray, chalky liquid. Moments later the bubbling in my stomach ended and she then gave me a sleeping pill.

I did as I was told . . . closed my eyes and fell asleep, eager for the relief sleep would bring. Before I drifted off, I opened my eyes once and saw her standing beside me, looking down at me like a cat who had trapped its mouse in a corner and hovered confidently above its prey, now enjoying the torment it could lay upon its weaker and pathetic counterpart.

Tomorrow I would feel better, I thought, and tomorrow Luke would receive my letter and would come to me. I had a dream about him. In it he was a knight on a white horse. He came galloping through the tall gates of Farthy and came charging into the mansion, rushing up the stairs to my room. He threw open the doors and came to my bed, where he quickly embraced me. I was so happy to see him, I put all restraint aside and kissed him fully on the lips. My nightgown slipped off my shoulders and he pressed his lips to my naked b.r.e.a.s.t.s, closing his eyes and inhaling as if I were a rose.

"Oh, Luke," I moaned, "how I've waited for you, how I've longed for you."

"My Annie." He caressed me gently, making my body sing with every kiss, until the tingles reached my legs and filled them with renewed strength and life. "I must take you away from here so we can be free to be lovers forever and even"

He scooped me into his arms and carried me out and down the stairs. I was still half naked, but I didn't care. He put me on his horse and we rode off, away from Farthy. I looked back only once in the dream, and when I did, I saw Tony in a window watching, his face torn by sadness. Only there was also a dark, shadowy figure standing behind him. I couldn't see his face, but I felt sad about leaving him. I reached back, as if calling to him, and then I awoke.