Birdlane Island, page 10
“Thank you, Anna.”
“Your grandfather put…”
Anna looked back at the door and then leaned closer to me.
“Your grandfather put Jamie on the list for visitors when you are moved to the private room. Your father might have some spies in here.” She smiled and then stopped. “You don’t look happy about Jamie coming.”
“Jamie has his own burdens now, and returning to the hospital will only make them heavier.”
“Sometimes when you have troubles, it’s better for you to think about someone else’s troubles. Diminishes your own,” she said. “It’s no good for him to wallow in self-pity.”
“I’m sure you’re right, Anna. I was just tired of people worrying about me.”
“Well, soon that sounds like it’ll be over.”
“I know. I’ll start helping you clean the Crest. That oughta convince them.”
She laughed. “You’ll find more creative ways to exert your new energy. You have a lot of catching up to do.”
“I do, don’t I? And I will.”
“Good. Oh. Your teachers and Jamie will be getting your schoolwork together for you to do at your own pace.”
“Is my picture all right?” I asked.
“Your grandfather decided to keep it in his office. Safe and sound.”
“I’m not sure I want to continue it,” I said. “I feel like I’m doing it for someone else.”
“Really? Who?” Anna asked.
Grandfather returned before I could answer.
“Time to go?” Anna asked.
“Yes. Lisa, you’re going to be moved to your private room tomorrow,” he told me. “And we’ll put your aunt back to work.”
“Jamie didn’t like her,” I said.
“Liking her may be asking too much. Let’s see if she can do the job I paid her nursing tuition to do and earn back the investment,” Grandfather said.
“You sound like Daddy,” I told him.
He smiled. “Good business sense is all right; he just applies it to everything in his life. I think he was five when he asked your grandmother if something she was doing was worth it. Okay. See you soon,” he said, nodding at Anna.
She kissed me, and they left.
Aunt Frances was there when they started to move me to my private room the following morning. Anyone who saw her and me would think we hadn’t met previously. I never had seen her so arrogant in her role as a nurse. She spoke to other people as if they were miles below her. It was still hard to think of my father and her being brother and sister but from another set of parents. Of course, they had no idea about this, and it was strange for me to have that knowledge without them having it.
When I was comfortably set up in my room with all the monitoring equipment, Aunt Frances went over everything as if she was reading from a textbook. At the end, I said emphatically, “Thank you, Aunt Frances.”
She paused and looked hard at me. “I don’t discriminate with my patients. Everyone is treated the same.”
“How reassuring,” I said.
She could have burned through me with her glare as she left.
“Sometimes it’s not good to get close to some of your own relatives,” Mommy once said. She surely was thinking of Aunt Frances.
Two days later, I had finished dinner and lay back just wanting to think about the world that was going to open for me the moment I walked out of the hospital. I was so into imagining all the things I would do that I didn’t see him enter and sit beside the bed. Maybe he was deliberately as quiet as a ghost.
Suddenly realizing someone was there, I gasped and pulled myself to the side. He was smiling widely.
“Good reflexes,” he said.
“How did you get in? It’s after visiting hours.”
“Maybe I look like a doctor and not an artist,” he replied.
“How long have you been here?”
“About forty-five seconds,” he said. His eyes were dazzling with laughter.
“No, I mean Bar Harbor.”
“Oh. I arrived this morning.”
“And you came here to see me? How did you find out about me so fast?”
“You sure you want to be an artist? You sound more like a district attorney,” he said, his smile holding.
“No, it’s just that…”
“I worry about my protégés. Your grandfather stopped by the gallery about an hour after I had arrived today to show a friend your painting, and I heard him talking to Mr. Doyle about you. He stepped aside and filled me in. I’m so happy for your successful operation and apparently full recuperation from your health challenge,” he said.
I stared at him a moment. He was wearing a fitted long-sleeved dark blue shirt and dark blue jeans. His silvery-blue eyes looked bluer. I thought the silvery-gray streaks in his dark brown hair had either darkened or been removed. Since he was the first older man who had shown interest in me other than my teachers, I was intrigued by everything about him.
I sensed he was amused at the way I was studying him.
“What sorts of things are you looking forward to doing when the doctor gives you the okay?” he asked.
I laughed. “That’s what had me in such deep thought. Believe it or not, I’ve never driven our speedboat, swum in the ocean, water-skied, or even gone on long hikes. There are great hiking trails on Birdlane. When I was very young, I snuck off and climbed up a cliff known as the Birdlane Crow’s Nest.”
The moment I said it, I realized I had left Jamie’s name out.
“All things I like to do,” he said. “ ’Course, I’ve never been up to the Birdlane Crow’s Nest. I’ve never been to Birdlane. Why don’t you give a call at the gallery when your doctor gives you the green light?”
He leaned toward me as if he was sharing a secret.
“Until your next birthday, we’ll call it art research,” he said.
I was sure my cheeks had turned crimson. Until I’m eighteen? What happens then? I wondered.
He paused a moment, his face closer, and then sat back with his smile.
“Actually,” he said, mostly, I imagined, to break the silence, “I’m bribing you. I hope you’ll recommend my doing a painting of the Crest or support the idea if I bring it up with your grandfather.”
“Really?” I think I sounded disappointed. That was his main purpose?
“For an artist, the subject of the work is half, if not more, of the effort. The Crest has so much to offer the imagination.”
“Where are you from? Were you always artistic?”
“Born in Wyoming at my father’s summer residence. I come from well-to-do people. My mother overruled my father and financed my work as an artist. When I succeeded, she practically rubbed it into his soul.” He laughed. “How does your father feel about your work? I mean, I know your grandfather is very happy about it.”
“Your father and mine must be related,” I said, and he laughed again.
“All wrapped into one: beautiful, talented, and witty.”
“I’m not sure all that is wrapped,” I said.
His eyes widened. “Yeah, ‘wrapped’ isn’t the right way to put it. I guess I’ll have to come up with some original lines.”
We heard voices approaching.
He rose. “I’ll keep in touch and eagerly wait to hear from you. Continue your good recuperation.”
Aunt Frances walked in and stopped as if she had walked into a wall.
“Who are you?” she demanded. “And how did you get in here?”
“I am Miss Baxter’s personal art instructor,” Kyle said, exaggerating how insulted he was by the question.
It brought a smile to my face, especially because of the stern look on Aunt Frances’s. She could roll those eyes. It could make you dizzy watching them.
“Well, she’s not going to do any artwork in here, and you’re here after hours,” Aunt Frances said firmly.
“Ah, there’s where you’re wrong,” Kyle said, undaunted. “There are no after hours for great artwork.”
Aunt Frances looked at me. I was stifling my laughter. Her face looked twisted, numbed.
“If you don’t leave, I’ll call security,” she warned, and folded her arms.
“Oh, we’re done,” Kyle said. He started out and then turned back in the doorway. “A true sculptor frees the art from the stone; so an artist frees his subject from itself.”
He glanced at Aunt Frances, who looked at him as if he had spoken a foreign language, and then continued out of the hospital.
“Does your father know you are seeing this man?” Aunt Frances immediately asked.
“My father, no. I doubt he cares. My grandfather knows.”
“And he’s paying him to be your art instructor?”
“Not that I know of, no.”
She smiled and nodded. “A man like that isn’t interested in dollars and cents, Lisa. You don’t have a mother to guide you now, so I’ll step in. Men like that have only one reward to satisfy, and it’s between their legs. You are like a ripe piece of fruit. Your virginity screams out, and that man and men like him hear it well.
“I’m sure he’s dumped compliment after compliment on you. He’ll say anything and do anything to get into bed with you. I’ve been through all that, and my mother was a naive woman. Your grandfather was her only boyfriend. What kind of advice could she give me? To cover up her failure with me, she blamed things on me. Anything that happened to me was my fault.”
“What happened to you?”
“I was raped at twelve years old,” she said. “And on your precious Birdlane Island, too.”
I couldn’t speak for a moment. She slammed the cup of pills on the table.
“Take these and sleep. You’re going home tomorrow and must have full rest for five days. The doctor will see you at the Crest. Your grandfather will send the boat for him.”
On the way out, she paused in the doorway and turned back to me.
“It was a friend of your father’s, too,” she said. “He knew about it but refused to confirm it when I told your grandfather and grandmother. Of course, they didn’t believe me,” she added, and left.
I had to remember to close my mouth, it was so wide open with shock.
CHAPTER NINE
I was stunned for minutes after she left. How could it be that no one ever had mentioned it? Could it be that no one else knew? Or, as she had said, that no one believed her? Should I pity her, feel ashamed that I had never really liked her? I suddenly felt so lost and alone. Without Mommy, whom could I talk to about this? Certainly not Daddy. I didn’t think I could talk about it even with Jamie, especially now because of his own problems. And I didn’t want Grandfather to somehow blame himself for what had happened to her.
I gulped the pills and lay back. What Aunt Frances had said about my grandmother easily applied to me as well. Other boys had flirted with me, but none had gone as far as to ask me for a date. I doubted I would have gone even if they had. Jamie just seemed to be there, to be my boyfriend forever.
Was Aunt Frances right? Was I naive and too innocent, making me vulnerable? I had no doubt that Kyle had had many girlfriends and might even have one now. What did I really know about him? It depressed me to think that he was simply taking advantage of me. I pouted about it for a few moments and then thought, who was Aunt Frances to give me advice about relationships with men, even if that had happened to her? Maybe she was simply jealous. She always seemed jealous of my father, my mother, and, now that I thought of it, especially me.
It was almost as if she deliberately said something to steal away my new hope and excitement. If I told my grandfather what she had said about Kyle, he’d go into a rage. I swiped the air as if I could erase it from my memory and had turned to go to sleep when the phone beside the bed rang. It was Jamie.
“Your father’s secretary told my mother you’re coming home tomorrow,” he said.
“Yes.”
“My sister said she’d drive me to the Crest the day after tomorrow. I’ll call first if that’s okay.”
“Of course it’s okay, Jamie. How are you doing?”
“I sit with my leg on a stool. Dr. Bush said I should start putting more weight on it gently when I walk with crutches.”
“Well, do what he says.”
“It’s easier to just sit here.”
“Jamie, remember what my mother told me, something I told you years ago.”
“What?”
“If you have so much self-pity, you won’t have anything to offer people who need it.”
He laughed.
A wave of fatigue washed over me. “I’m a little tired,” I said.
“Sure. I understand.”
“Get some rest, too. I want to see someone who is hopeful when I see you in two days,” I said. I really was tired, but I wished I could have kept talking. I didn’t want to risk my full recovery, however. Got to be a little selfish sometimes, I told my conscience.
When morning came, to say I was anxious was a tremendous understatement. I practically gobbled down my breakfast and couldn’t take my eyes off the clock. About ten thirty, I was surprised to see Daddy arrive with Aunt Frances beside him. I didn’t know why, but he had to explain his appearance, my own father. Why wasn’t it just natural for him to want to see me?
“I had an early meeting with a distributor in Bar Harbor and told your grandfather I’d handle this. Frances will gather your things. I have the car waiting. She already came to the Crest last night and arranged your room according to what she says were Dr. Knox’s orders and requirements. I’ll inform the desk,” he said, and stepped aside.
“Your father told me to bring you this to wear,” Aunt Frances said, and handed me a nightgown, a robe, and my furry slippers.
“Why can’t I wear regular clothes until I get home?”
“Oh, starting already,” she said, tossing the garments onto the bed. “I told my father to double my salary. Stress.” She closed the door behind her and stood there with her arms folded.
“I’m the one who isn’t supposed to have stress,” I said.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m on that,” she replied threateningly.
“You don’t have to do this,” I snapped back at her. “There are private nurses on Birdlane Island, too.”
She looked a little frightened for a moment.
“It makes my father happy, which makes my life easier, too,” she said. “Let’s just get you home and make you comfortable.”
I shrugged. Why couldn’t she talk to me in a kind way before? Why did she have to be threatening?
I put on the nightgown, robe, and slippers while she gathered any personal items.
“Just sit there,” she said. “I have to get a wheelchair.”
“Wheelchair?”
“It’s protocol.”
She left, and I plopped back on the bed.
Dr. Knox came in next, with my father beside him.
“Everything is looking good,” he said. “The next week of recovery is important, so just follow your aunt’s instructions, which came from me. I’ll be there to see you tomorrow. Any questions?”
“Do I have to stay bedridden?”
“For the first few days. Then you’ll take short walks in the house, accompanied. I don’t want anything to happen to my perfect job,” he said, smiling.
“Okay.”
“Let’s get moving,” Daddy said. “As usual, we have a crisis of some sort at the business.”
“With Bar Harbor Wilson Brothers?” I asked.
His eyes widened. “No. I took care of that.” He looked at the doctor.
“You have a very alert daughter. Rare these days,” Dr. Knox said.
Daddy grunted and stepped back for Aunt Frances and the wheelchair. Aunt Frances quickly came around to guide me into it, which I thought was a bit over-the-top. I was far from that helpless, but it seemed to please Dr. Knox. He followed us out the door and to the limousine. It was a cool, mostly cloudy day, but to me it was pure sunshine. About ten minutes later, Daddy’s driver and, surprisingly, Aunt Frances lifted me, wheelchair and all, into the boat. Aunt Frances put a blanket on me and sat beside the chair, her hand on it, while we pulled away from the dock and toward Birdlane Island. I gazed at her out of the corner of my eye.
The veins in her forehead were prominent. She seemed to be gritting her teeth, her jaw taut. I had never really looked so closely at my aunt, but looking from her to Daddy, I could see why they thought they were twins. Although Daddy was handsome, he had a similar forehead and similar lips. It was just that he was filled out more and seemed more alert. She looked like she was constantly in an angry dream. There was a lot that was similar in their personalities, but they fought, being brother and sister. I rarely heard him give her a compliment, and she was always finding fault with what he did.
The boat rocked steadily as we sailed home, but everything about it felt different now. Without the warmth of my mother’s hand to hold or the sound of her voice guiding me through the wind and waves, it all seemed hollow. My heart was strong now, but the emptiness inside felt heavier than ever. The sea stretched endlessly before me, carrying me home. For a fleeting moment, I could almost see her reflection in the water, bringing me a small sense of comfort.
When we arrived at the dock, Daddy drove off to his office, and we were taken to the Crest. Grandfather’s limousine and his driver were outside at the front. Anna came running when we pulled up.
“Your room is all ready. Aunt Frances arranged it last night.”
Aunt Frances began carrying my things into the house. She left Anna to assist me.
“Where’s Grandfather?”
“He’s getting some things together and will be in your room shortly,” Anna said.
My room looked like the one I had just left at the hospital. All my posters, pictures, and awards were gone. The window had a sheer sheet over it. The hospital equipment was on two tables beside the bed. The bedding even looked like hospital bedding. I stepped back as if the room were on fire.
“I’m not going in there,” I said. “I am coming home, not returning to the hospital.”
