I saw that it was nearly twelve. My bedroom
 
 door was still shut, but the windows were open and a
 
 cool, refreshing sea breeze drifted in. I turned to it,
 
 longing to get myself outside again, and suddenly,
 
 very faintly at first, but stronger and stronger as I
 
 focused on it, I heard a familiar voice. It came from
 
 below . . . at the front of the house.
 
 "Luke!"
 
 I heard Tony's voice as well.
 
 Concentrating as hard as I could and directing
 
 all my strength into my legs, I swung myself over the
 
 side of the bed, but my legs gave me no support.
 
 Whatever vitality had been reborn in them was gone.
 
 Something Tony had given me sent my renewed vigor
 
 back into hibernation.
 
 "Luke!" I screamed. My voice echoed in the
 
 empty room, the sound shut up with me. I let myself
 
 fall to the floor, collapsing like a dress that had
 
 slipped off a hanger in a closet. I twisted myself
 
 around and began a slow struggle toward the window,
 
 pulling and tugging the best I could, encouraged by the continued sounds of Luke's voice. I began to make
 
 out some words.
 
 "But she insisted I come," he pleaded. "She's not ready for visitors."
 
 "Why did she call?"
 
 "She didn't; she couldn't have. It must have
 
 been a mistake."
 
 "I've driven all this way. Couldn't I see her for
 
 just a few moments?" he implored.
 
 "The doctors advise against it."
 
 "Why?"