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"It's so hot."

"It has to be that way, Annie."

When I was settled securely, she released her grip but kept her hands on my shoulders. Under the hot, bubbling water, my legs looked leaden. I still couldn't feel them at all. Her strong fingers, made muscular by hours and hours of massaging and lifting patients, kneaded my small shoulders and the back of my neck.

"Just relax," she said. "Close your eyes and relax."

I did what she said and leaned back. Steamy vapor filled my lungs, misted the air so Mrs. Broadfield and I seemed miles and miles away. I drifted into a dreamy land where soft music played. I felt drunk from lack of energy. I heard her dip a washcloth into the bubbling water and then felt her bring it to my arms.

"I can do that."

"Just relax. It's what Mr. Tatterton has hired me to do."

It was difficult for me to relax while someone else scrubbed my body. She moved the soft cloth slowly over and under my arms. She washed my neck and shoulders and had me lean forward so she could wash most of my back.

"Doesn't this feel good, Annie?"

I simply nodded, keeping my eyes closed. It was easier for me that way. Whenever I opened them, I saw Mrs. Broadfield bent over the hot tub, her face tight and intense, like a skilled technician worried about detail.

"You have a nice, firm young body, Annie. Strong. You're going to recuperate, if you cooperate and follow the therapy."

The hot steam drew beads of water in lines across her forehead and over her puffy cheeks. They looked like tiny pearls. Her face was very flushed, almost as red as someone who had fallen asleep in the hot sunlight.

She dipped her arms as deeply into the water as she could to reach my legs and thighs, washing and massaging. Finally she sat back, looking short of breath. She saw how I gazed quizzically at her and she quickly rose to her feet to wipe her forearms.

"Just sit there and soak for a while longer," she said, and went into the bedroom.

I did all that I could to help assist her in lifting me out of the tub. I wiped down my upper body while she wiped my feet and legs. Then she helped me into a new nightgown and brought me back to the bed. I wanted to remain in the wheelchair, even though the hot bath had tired me out.

"Just for a short while," she said. "I'll be back and help you into bed so you can take a brief nap before dinner."

I waited until she left the room and then I wheeled myself to the window. The afternoon sun had fallen far enough below the great house so that the building now cast a long, dark shadow over the grounds and the maze. Still, it looked warm outside.

I had come to the window because I wanted to look again at the Tatterton family cemetery. I hadn't been there yet, but just seeing my parents' monument would make me feel closer to them, I thought.

Suddenly I saw a man appear as if out of the air. He must have been standing off in a shadow. I leaned as close to the window as I could and gazed at the figure made small by the distance. At first I thought it might be Luke, but as my eyes focused in more accurately, I realized he was a taller, thinner man.

He stepped up to the monument and stared at it for the longest time. Then he dropped to his knees. I could see hie: lower his head, and although I was much too far away to be sure, I even thought I could see his body shudder with sobs.

Who was he? It wasn't Tony, although there was something about the frame of his body that reminded me of Tony.

Was it one of the help who remembered my mother well?

I blinked because my eyes grew tired and began to tear from staring so intently, and then I leaned back and wiped them with the back of my hand.

When I leaned forward again to look out at the cemetery and the monument, the man was gone. It was as if he popped into thin air, disappearing like a bubble.

I sat back because something that occurred to me filled me with a shudder and a chill.

Had I imagined him?

Frustrated and exhausted, I backed away from the window.

TWELVE Ghosts in the House

. Tony found me asleep .in my wheelchair by the window. I woke when I felt him wheeling me back to the bed.


Tags: V.C. Andrews Casteel Horror