Eye of the Storm (22 page)

"Well, now that he was so brazen about his seduction of you, I have Mrs. Churchwell as a reliable witness,"
"I wasn't seduced. I love Austin and he loves me," I insisted. She wagged her head.
"Of course you do. What girl in your place, crippled, sentenced to be in a wheelchair her whole life, wouldn't grasp at the first good-looking face to turn his false smile to you and fill you with fictitious promises? Why, most girls who weren't in
wheelchairs would fall for those lines and winks these days, much less someone like you."
"Stop it! You don't know what you're talking about. You could never understand." I yelled.
Aunt Victoria stretched her thin lips into a mean spinster smile.
"Why, child, there are few as well equipped to understand the craftinesses of men, their slyness and guile. Unlike most. I am not blinded by phony compliments. You might say I have a built-in lie detector. It rings here." she said putting her left hand over her heart. "and sends warnings immediately to here." She pointed at her temple.
"What did that fortune hunter tell you?" she continued, stepping closer. "Did he tell you that you were just as beau
^-
EH as before, maybe even more so? Did he tell you that you made his day, made his heart sing, brought such joy to him that he couldn't imagine himself without you? Did he tell you he saw you everywhere, constantly heard your voice and you were stuck in his mind forever and ever? Did he promise to always cherish and love you. too?"
"Yes, yes, yes, yes to all of that." I screamed at her. "And he means it and we will be in love and we will be together."
She nodded.
"We'll see," she said. "Maybe some day, I'll stop protecting you and you will end up with someone like him."
"I won't end up with someone like him. I'll end up with him," I vowed.
"Fine. But first you had better listen to me and do what I want you to do."
She opened the file and took out some documents, spreading them on the bed before me.
"I haven't just been sitting on my hands while precious Megan has been twisting and turning Grant in the wind. you know. Your mother gave up responsibility for you long ago. We certainly can't expect her to do anything for you now. Because of your incapacity. I have had my lawyers petition the court to appoint me your guardian. Yes, you can get your attorney to put up resistence, but I don't think you will.
"In the meantime, these documents here," she said taking out others. "are the documents to be sent to the state concerning your fortune-hunter's company."
"Stop calling him that," I said. She shrugged.
"Call him what you want. These other documents," she continued. "constitute a lawsuit I intend to file against the therapy company. It will bankrupt him just to put up a defense. You know how lawyers can bleed you," she said gleefully.
"Here are the press releases I've had written as well," My eyes were stinging with tears.
"Now," she went on. "none of this will go any further if you sign this."
She brought out another document.
"What is that?"
"It's the power of attorney I've been begging you to sign. Once I'm in complete control of the estate's business again, we'll all be better off, including you."
"This is blackmail. I'll tell my lawyer,"
"You don't have to tell him. I'll just go forward with all the rest of this and you don't have to sip the paper if you don't want to. Suit yourself," she said gathering up the papers and putting them back in her folder.
"Listen," I said in a voice of calm reason, "I'll have Mr. Saner contact you and your attorneys and you can work out whatever compromise you want and I'll leave."
"With that boy?"
"What's that matter to you?"
"If you think he won't go and make trouble afterward, you're an even worse dreamer than your mother. The moment he marries you, he'll hire an attorney to sue me and start all this over," she said.
"No, he won't. I promise."
"Promises. Do you know what promises made by women such as you are? Cotton candy. Dreams and illusions followed by dramatic proclamations peppered with
I swears
all over the place. I know. Megan has made me a thousand promises if she's made one and not one has ever been followed or come true."
"I'm not Mean!"
I
cried. She stared a moment.
"Yes, you are." she said. She looked around the room and at the bed as if Austin were still beside me. Then she looked at my naked shoulders and into my eyes and repeated. "Yes, you are."
She put the power-of-attorney document on the bed with a pen beside it.
"Sign it and I'll put all these other documents on the shelf. "I'll be back in ten minutes." she added and left.
I sat there, feeling as if all the blood in my body had drained to my feet. I was actually so dizzy I had to lower my head to the pillow for a few moments and take deep breaths.
Of course, she was wrong about Austin. I thought, but she was too paranoid and distrusting to believe in any guarantees I might make. I braced myself on my right elbow and looked at the paper she had left. This will never end until she gets her way with this. I thought. I was tired of fighting with her. Anyway, how could I let her destroy Austin's reputation and his uncle's business?
I took the pen in hand. I feared I was signing a deal with the devil.
I wrote my name on the line nevertheless. Maybe now it would end. I thought.
I should have realized.
Now it would really begin.

14
Struggling for Freedom
.
Aunt Victoria returned to my bedroom, saw the

"Good," she said. "You've made the right decision. Now, things will go so much better for the both of us, especially for you."

"I want my phone reactivated immediately," I said. "And I want the keys to my van."
"Anything else?" she asked. Her smile now cutting so sharply in her pallid face and her eyes turning so cold, she looked like she had become a wax replica of herself.
"Yes. I don't want Austin or his uncle bothered or threatened and I want you to keep that spy of yours out of my face."
"Actually," she said, surprising me. "I was thinking of dismissing Mrs. Churchwell. You've been correct about her. She isn't very much of a cook and I'm not pleased with her cleaning and maintenance of the house. She cuts corners. Mother would have fired her the day after she had been hired. For what I'm paying her. I can have two maids."
"Good," I said. I certainly didn't feel sorry for Mrs. Churchwell.
"There, you see how well you and I can get along if you're cooperative." my aunt said. She started out. "I'll have her prepare your breakfast for you and then leave,"
"I don't want her to prepare anything for me. I can take care of myself."
"Fine," she said. "It will make it easier. I'll give her two weeks salary and send her on her way. For a while," she added. "it will just be the two of us."
No, it won't. I thought. because I'll be out of here myself today.
"Before you go to your office, please leave the van keys on the kitchen table," I asked as she started away.
She paused, nodded slightly with that same waxen smile, then left. I got myself out of bed and into the bathroom. I wasn't sure where I would go or what I would do, but it was exciting just
contemplating leaving. I'd call Austin as soon as I could, of course, and let him know where I was. Then. I would drive to Mr. Sanger's office, and have him do whatever was necessary to set up funding for myself and Austin. He'd be upset I had signed the power of attorney paper. but I didn't care anymore about the house or the business anyway. Let her wallow in her victory and live in her dark loneliness, if she liked.
Maybe I could convince Austin to move to England with me. He could do whatever he had to do to become a licensed therapist there. We could set up a small flat together and start a whole new life away from all this trouble and unhappiness. We would see my father and his family often, go to the theater and spend nice weekend afternoons in the parks.
As I soaked in the tub. I dreamed of Austin and me along the Thames, going to a nice cafe, doing all the things I had done before my accident.
Practically all public places made
accommodations for handicapped people now. We could go to museums, travel in the countryside, do anything we wanted. I envisioned all of us at Sunday high tea, my father and his family and Austin and me, talking, listening to music and simply enjoying each other's company. I could still have a lift. I thought.
My aunt believed she had won. She considered all this a victory. Little did she understand that she was really freeing me from bondage. Actually.
I
should be the one thanking her, All I had really done. I concluded, was sin over my rights to a sinking ship, a depressingly dark and unhappy ship floating in a sea of tears.
Go celebrate your false victory. Aunt Victoria. Cherish your precious legal papers, brag to your friends and spend the rest of your life with a heart aching for a man you will never have. One day you'll wake up in this house or wherever you are and realize you've amounted to nothing. You'll have only your own shadow to keep you company and you'll hear only your own voice. You'll be more of a prisoner than I have ever been. Maybe you won't be in a wheelchair, but you'll be handicapped. Of that. I'm sure, I thought.
My musings were interrupted by the sounds of banging, a series of thumps echoing from outside. I even heard what sounded like a saw. I imagined it was the grounds people who came weekly to tend to the property and thought no more about it.
After I got myself out of the tub and dry. I dressed myself and then found a couple of suitcases in the back of my closet. I was too excited about leaving to think about getting myself some breakfast first. Instead. I spent most of the remainder of the morning choosing what I wanted to take with me and packing. Once that was all accomplished. I sat back contented and then finally decided I was hungry.
I wheeled myself out. realizing I hadn't heard anyone making any noise in the house all this time. I guessed Aunt Victoria really had given Mrs. Churchwell her walking papers, and she had already left without saying good-bye. That was good.
I
didn't cherish the idea of having to face her, even for one final time.
My first disappointment came when I saw that Aunt Victoria had not left the van keys on the kitchen table as I had requested. I looked everywhere, even on the floor thinking they might have fallen somehow. I checked the counters, the chairs, everything, but saw no keys.
Damn her. I thought. She deliberately didn't do it... or in her glorious haste forgot. I went to call her office and remembered the phone in the kitchen didn't work. A hive of frustration began to build rapidly in my chest, my anger buzzing and stinging until I felt hot rage.
I spun in my chair and wheeled myself rapidly down the hallway to her office. Of course. it was locked. I rattled the door and slammed it with my fist, crying and screaming my aunt's name. Then I sat back and tried to think calmly. I'll just wheel myself out and down the ramp and down the driveway to the road. I'll stop a passing motorist and ask him or her to help me get to a phone.
I turned my chair around and with renewed determination headed for the front door. It was a beautiful day, just a few clouds visible from the doorway. A warm breeze washed over my face, filling me with strength. I took a deep breath and wheeled myself out on the portico. This won't be difficult. I told myself. The first driver who sees me will surely pull over. It will be quite a sight to see a girl in a wheelchair hitchhiking. I laughed to myself and started for the ramp.
Then my heart fell as if it had been turned to stone. I stared in disbelief.
The ramp was gone!
That was the banging and sawing I had heard when I was in the tub. Why had she done this? Was it merely in anticipation of my leaving? Why didn't she wait until I had actually left?
Without the ramp, the steps looked foreboding. How would I get myself and my chair down? My frustration turned quickly to rage. I would not be defeated. As carefully as I could. I lowered myself from the chair to the floor of the portico. I decided I would push the chair down the steps as slowly as I could and then I would crawl, slide, do anything I had to do to get myself down and then climb back into the chair.
It
seemed like a good plan. so I began to carefully push the chair ahead.
It bounced down the first step and then the second and I held it as tightly as I could, but now I was at a very awkward angle.
It
was hard to inch myself forward and down and hold the chair at the same time. Finally. I decided to let it bounce down the steps on its own and then follow as quickly as possible.
As soon as
I
uncurled my fingers, the chair, carried forward by its weight, rolled down the remaining steps, only it didn't stop as close to the bottom as I had hoped. The momentum of bouncing forward kept it going and it rolled and rolled until it reached the driveway.
"Stop!" I screamed at the chair as if it was a living thing and could hear and obey.
It slowed down, but didn't stop. It rolled on until it reached the descending incline and then picked up speed again and rolled faster and faster down the driveway until I could see it no more. I stared after it in disbelief. I wasn't going to have to drag myself just down these steps now. I was going to have to drag myself quite a distance down the driveway as well.
I glanced back at the house. Even getting back inside and to my room would be a major endeavor.
What had I done?
Damn her. I thought, damn her for putting me in this horrible predicament.
"Help, someone!" I screamed.
My thin shout was carried away in the breeze. Who would hear me anyway? Maybe the grounds people would soon arrive. but what would I do in the meantime?
I
thought and decided I had little choice but to follow my chair. It might take me hours and hours. but I would get to it.
I turned and pushed my limp legs toward the stairs. Then, taking a deep breath.
I
pushed until my rear end bounced on the next step. It nearly bounced the breath out of me. I swallowed, closed my eyes and did another step and then another until I was down the stairway. My poor rear end felt raw and quite sore. I caught my breath again and then turned around, put my hands behind me and began to drag my body toward the driveway.
Gravel and dirt soon made my palms sting with pain. I had to stop often to wipe them off and rub them against my thighs. The noon sun beat down on my face and the warn breeze I had welcomed the moment I had opened the door now seemed like the tormenting hot breath of some giant creature hovering over me. I could feel the sweat beads trickling down my temples.
After another moment's rest. I pulled myself along again. My choice of clothing this morning wasn't exactly right for this exercise. I thought. The skirt didn't do much to protect the skin on my legs, especially about the calf muscles. I couldn't feel the pain at all on my left leg, but I could see the scratch marks and the red blotches. I did feel some stinging in my right leg.
After what must have been at least an hour, if not a little more. I reached the crest of the driveway and turned to look down the small hill. There was my wheelchair on its side near the road. It would probably take me another hour to drag myself down to it. I thought. My palms had started to bleed. too. It really was painful to put the full weight of my upper body on them and push along the dirt and gravel.
How was I going to do this now? I looked back at the house.
It
would be horrendous to try to return. I would have to get myself up those steps. too. I started to cry. The whole world conspires against me. I thought. The ground, the air, all of it is against me. Finally, nearly exhausted. I pushed myself up on my hands and in a moment of pure anger and frustration.
I turned myself into a ball by embracing my upper body and deliberately falling forward to get enough momentum to roll.
And roll I did, but my legs swung over like dead weights, bouncing me hard on my shoulders. I hit the side of my head on a small rock once and felt the warm trickle of blood under my hair. but I kept up my turning and spinning. The blue sky and clouds seemed to spin with me. Twice I felt as if I had knocked the air out of my lungs and gasped; finally. I stopped and lay on my stomach, looking up at my chair which was now only a few feet away.
I lowered my head to my arms and rested, feeling the stings of cuts and bruises from my hips up my arms to my head and my right ear. I was sure I looked a mess. My clothes were all stained and my blouse had ripped at the right elbow. I felt a scrape there and saw the blood.
Nevertheless. I had come this far. It was no time to stop and wail about it. I pushed myself up and struggled to get to a sitting position again so I could put my arms behind me and pull myself along until I reached the chair. I was nearly to it, too. when I heard the sound of an automobile and turned my head to see it coming at me. I shouted, for fear the driver hadn't seen me when he or she had come around the turn. It came to a stop in what was surely no more than a few inches from me. The bumper was so close
I
would hit it if I leaned back.
I heard the door open and I looked around hopefully, but the moment I saw her shoes and thin legs. I lowered my head like a flag of defeat. My aunt stood over me, her hands on her hips.
"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded. "What sort of a crazy thing is this? Have you gone completely mad? Look at you. Look at what you've done to yourself."
Through my tears I cried. "It's all your fault. Why did you have the ramp removed? Where were my van keys? Why didn't you leave them on the kitchen table as you promised?"
"Let's get you back into the house and cleaned up," she said. "How did you do this to yourself? Did you fall out of your chair? Why didn't you wait for me to come home? What was so important about you driving around now?"
She went for the wheelchair and brought it up beside me. Then she leaned down to scoop her arms under mine.
"Leave me alone!" I cried. This is your fault."
"Stop acting like a fool and cooperate. I know you can move that right leg a bit, now help me to help you," she commanded.
I had no choice but to do what she asked and somehow, she had the strength to lift me high enough to drop me in the chair. I fell back against it, my arms so tired and weak, they dangled over the sides.
"Just relax." she said and struggled with pushing me up the driveway.
"Why did you have the ramp removed?" I asked weakly.
"We're selling the house. remember? How could I have real estate agents bring prospective buyers around with that ramp there? It would turn them off. People have to have a good feeling about a house before they'll consider buying it."
"Couldn't you wait until I left at least? How was I supposed to get down?"
"Who thought you would try to leave without someone helping you? You didn't have to go and try to leave on your own, foolish girl. You've always been so impulsive."
"What are you talking about? You hardly know me," I said shaking my head. "You shouldn't have had the ramp removed," I insisted.
I was surprised at how strong she was for someone so thin. Somehow, she managed to turn the chair around and pull it up with me in it, step by step until we were back on the portico.
"There." she said and took a deep breath. "You've nearly exhausted me with your nonsense. "Now we've got to get you inside and cleaned up. You need to put some antiseptic on those cuts and bruises. too."
She turned the chair and wheeled me back into the house. I dropped my chin to my chest. My brave and determined attempt at escape had failed, heroic as it was, and I had been only moments from getting myself back into my chair and wheeling myself onto the road. Little did I know how important and precious those final moments were to be.
I would soon learn.
She got me back into my room and started to take off my clothing immediately.
"How do you think this would look if they came to visit and found you like this today? How do you think this would reflect on me? I'm capable of running a multimillion-dollar business, but not looking after one crippled girl? It would be a terrible embarrassment. Grant would wonder if I was as capable as I seem to be and he'd have every right to wonder.