Far and Away

by Fern Michaels

  “Good idea. Bernice, why don’t you make a salad? Robert, you’re good with bread. Find a loaf in the freezer and make us something tasty. Jamie keeps us loaded with breads, and it’s time we started eating the stuff. Ida, I need you to . . . help me upstairs. I need your advice on what to wear to Phil’s book-launch party. Do you feel up to that?”

  Ever indignant, Ida replied, “Of course I do! I am an expert!”

  Toots, Sophie, and Goebel all smiled. This was more like the Ida they all knew and loved. But they’d never tell her that.

  Chapter Seven

  Sophie wished like hell that her old spiritual mentor, Madam Butterfly, was still alive to advise her. She hadn’t given much thought to the good-versus-evil stuff, except for where Walter, her deceased husband, was concerned. While he was a bastard of the highest order, he wasn’t evil in the true sense of the word. He was just a nasty old jerk who’d delighted in tormenting her. No, this was something far greater than being mean in spirit.

  There were signs to look for, and so far she didn’t see any that were totally off the rails. Ida was acting beyond strange, and Sophie knew this was just a small physical change, and that in itself wasn’t too alarming at this point. Ida could just be whacking out, too. She was over seventy years old. Not that that was old, but Sophie didn’t know if early dementia, or early-onset Alzheimer’s ran in Ida’s family. Before she jumped to conclusions, she had to investigate further.

  She’d converted the spandrel, the empty space beneath the staircase, into a home office of sorts. Though she would have liked more space, she liked the total privacy the area offered. She kept all of her psychic reading materials here, along with a few treasured items she didn’t want to display to anyone. One of those private treasures was a book given to her by Madam Butterfly. It didn’t have a title or a known author. Sophie had never opened the book’s yellowed and fragile pages. When she’d received the book as a gift all those years ago, she’d known without Madam Butterfly’s telling her that it was to be put aside, and she would know when it was time to open the well-worn brown leather cover and read its contents.

  Handwritten, in a spidery scrawl, the first page read: The Roman Ritual. Of course, she thought as she carefully turned the page. Being Catholic, she’d heard of this book, but had never really given it much thought. She knew it contained rituals that were hundreds and hundreds of years old, rituals that were performed daily in the Church, such as Baptism, Communion, and Mass. She held the ancient book, handwritten in both Latin and English. Cautiously, she turned the page, and began to read. Half an hour later, she was startled by a light tap on the door, and she quickly closed the book, returning it to the mini-safe where she’d kept it since her move to Charleston.

  “You ready to take this lasagna over to Toots’s?” Goebel asked.

  Sophie turned off the desk lamp and gave the narrow space one last look to make sure everything was as it should be. She felt creepy now, as though she had somehow been tainted by a source of true evil. “I’m ready,” she said, and stepped out into the formal living area. Sophie had yet to see the disaster in the kitchen, and had told Goebel just to get what he needed and get out. As soon as she felt ready, she would tackle whatever entities had destroyed their kitchen.

  Goebel held a green reusable Publix shopping bag in one hand and a jug of unsweetened tea in the other. He refused to drink sugar-sweetened tea since he’d lost so much weight. He didn’t force his good eating habits on Sophie the way Mavis tried to, but she now found herself a bit more conscientious about her eating habits since they’d married. Grateful for the interruption, Sophie hurried out the front door, with Goebel following close behind. “Make sure you lock the door,” she called out to him as she headed for the car. If by some odd chance someone had broken into the house, at least with the doors locked, they would have more of a challenge this time around.

  She watched as Goebel juggled the bag and the tea so he could lock the door behind him. He swiftly made his way to the car, then placed the items on the backseat. “You don’t look so hot, Soph. Did something happen that I need to know about?”

  She took a deep breath before answering. She’d never told him about Madam Butterfly’s gift, and wasn’t sure if it should be revealed or not. Didn’t matter, she thought. She would simply wing it, and whatever she said would be said and not taken back. “I got super creeped out when I was in my office. You know that little safe I have?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I’ve seen it but figured if you wanted me to know its contents, you would’ve told me.”

  “There’s nothing in there but a few keepsakes, really. Nothing important, well, except for this book.” She waited a sec for him to ask what book. He didn’t, so she continued. “You remember my telling you about Madam Butterfly?”

  Backing out of the drive, Goebel looked in his rearview mirror. “Wasn’t she that psychic woman who told you all those years ago that you had the gift?”

  “The one and only,” she said, looking at him as he drove. “She gave me a book—actually it looks like more of a journal than a book. Leather-bound, and the pages are much bigger than normal.”

  “You’re stalling, Soph. What gives with this book?”

  “Have you ever heard of The Roman Ritual?”

  “Yeah, sort of. Isn’t that a book used in the Catholic Church, something to do with sacraments?”

  “Something like that. Madam Butterfly gave me this book, and it’s all handwritten, in both Latin and English. It contains the Holy Sacraments, the Sacrament of Baptism, and Confirmation. In chapter thirteen there are four sections on exorcism.” She actually whispered the last word.

  Goebel took his gaze from the road and looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Sophie, did you just say what I think you said?”

  She had known that this was going to happen. No one liked that word—hell, it scared the bejesus out of her—but it is what it is, and she had to tell someone. “I did. Madam Butterfly told me that I would know when the time was right to read this book. As soon as Ida started acting like . . . like an idiot,” she said because she didn’t dare voice what she really wanted to call it. “Well, let me just say that I thought it was time for me to take a peep at that book. I did, and it frightens me, Goebel. Truly. It scares the living daylights out of me.” Sophie took a deep breath, hating that she’d burdened him with this evil, but she had to tell someone.

  He didn’t say a word, yet she knew he was thinking about what she’d just told him. When he didn’t have answers, he wouldn’t say a word until he’d thought things out. She liked this about him because it made her feel as though whatever she said must mean something to him as well.

  “You don’t want to voice what you’re thinking, am I right?” he asked as they arrived at Toots’s.

  “You know me well, don’t you?” she asked.

  He pulled the car around to the back of the huge Southern plantation home, then shut off the engine. “I like to think so. I am your husband. Isn’t it part of my job to know what’s going on in that beautiful little head of yours?” He took her hand in his and gave a reassuring squeeze.

  She was so damn lucky to have this man in her life. She smiled. “It is. And you’re very good at it, I might add.”

  “I am a work in progress,” he said. “Seriously, Sophie, are you okay with this? Do we need to see a priest or something?”

  “No!” she exclaimed, perhaps a little too emphatically. “Promise me something, okay?” She had to fight to control her emotions just then.

  “Anything,” he agreed.

  “Don’t use that word around Ida and the others. It brings up . . . bad images when . . . just don’t mention anything about this.”

  “You don’t want me to talk about priests because . . .” Goebel appeared confused, too.

  “Damn, I don’t want to say it out loud, but it looks like I need to. Toots said the same words earlier, and I warned her not to voice this . . . evil to anyone until I came up with an answer
. Priests, evil, the Roman Ritual. I don’t need to spell it out for you, now, do I?”

  “Exorcism? Is that the word you don’t want to hear?” Goebel asked.

  Trembling, all she could do was nod.

  Chapter Eight

  Goebel’s cell phone rang. “Hello? Yes, this is he. I appreciate you calling. Of course. I’m not sure. Let me ask my wife.” He covered the cell phone with his free hand. “This is Ted Dabney, the great-great-nephew I told you about. He’s in town for the night. Said he wants to meet with us, and asked if we would join him for dinner tonight?”

  A million thoughts swirled through her brain. No, she did not want to see this man, but she had to. “Sure. It’s not like I have much of a choice, is it?” she answered.

  “I can go. You stay here with the girls if that will make this easier for you.”

  It would, but that would be taking the coward’s way out, and she was a lot of things, but she was not a coward. “No, tell him we’ll meet him for dinner. Just name the time and place. I need to talk with this man.”

  Goebel spoke into the phone. “Yes, we can meet for dinner. How about seven o’clock at Cristof’s? Sure, see you then.” He clicked off and took her hand. “Look, you don’t have to do this. I can ask whatever needs to be asked. It’s not like this has anything to do with . . . Ida. We want to know the history of our home, right? That has nothing to do with Ida’s problem.”

  He was so wrong, and she told him so. “That’s where I think all of this is originating. My dream, then the crushed smokes, the twins’ being frightened the other day. And now Ida’s acting so out of character after a visit to our house. I’m afraid it does have something to do with the history of the house.”

  “If you say so, then I agree. You’re rarely wrong with this stuff. Now, why don’t we put it out of our heads for a bit? Let’s go inside and have lunch, okay? We’ll deal with this together, I promise.”

  Again, she couldn’t believe how lucky she was to have this man by her side, especially at her age. She leaned across the console and cupped his face in her hands. “I love you. Have I told you this today?”

  He smiled. “Now that’s the girl I know and love. For the record, I can’t remember if you told me or not, so why don’t you tell me again?”

  “I love you, Goebel Blevins.”

  “Ditto, Sophie Blevins. Ditto. Now, let’s go inside before they come looking for us. Toots will accuse us of having sex in the car.”

  “Nothing she herself hasn’t done a time or two, trust me on that,” Sophie observed as she opened her door.

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  Goebel grabbed the tea and lasagna from the backseat. Sophie whipped out a cigarette, took a few puffs, then crushed it out in the coffee can next to the back-door steps. Before she opened the door, she turned to Goebel. “Remember when you referred to me as ‘sweet cheeks’?”

  He nodded his head. “I do.”

  “Exactly what did you mean?”

  Goebel chuckled. “You have a nice rear end.”

  “Oh,” was all she said before entering the kitchen.

  The kitchen was a hubbub of activity. Bernice was at the sink washing lettuce leaves while Robert smeared a loaf of French bread with fresh cloves of garlic and olive oil.

  “Get that in the oven if you want to eat before three. It’s preheated,” Bernice called out.

  Goebel took the dish of lasagna from the bag and slid it onto the middle rack in the oven. “Done,” he said. “What can I do to help?”

  Robert, normally quiet as a mouse, spoke first. “You want to find some garlic powder in the pantry for me? I looked and can’t find it, though Bernice swears it’s there, except that she can’t find it, either.”

  Sophie laughed at Robert’s sudden burst of words. “Wonders never cease. Goebel, have a peep. You’re taller than Robert, so you can see what’s on the top shelf.”

  Goebel nodded and headed to the pantry.

  “Where are the others?” Sophie asked Bernice.

  “Ida is supposed to be helping Toots look for something to wear, but they’ve been up there ever since you left. I called up the stairs about fifteen minutes ago, but they never answered. They probably got lost in the closet. I’ve never seen a woman with so many clothes. And shoes, too. Every time she runs to the store for something, she comes back with another pair of shoes. She’s gonna have to build another place just for her shoes if this keeps up.”

  Tapping her fingers against the countertop, Sophie couldn’t wait to rush upstairs to see for herself what was going on. “That’s nice, Bernice. I’m going up to check on them.” Sophie raced up the stairs before Bernice could stop her.

  She stopped when she reached Toots’s bedroom. The door was closed, so she gave a light knock. If they’d decided to take a quick nap, she didn’t want to bother them. She knocked a second time, then Toots opened the door. She held an index finger over her mouth, indicating silence, but motioned for her to come inside.

  “Follow me,” she mouthed.

  Sophie trailed behind Toots as she led her to the master bathroom. Whispering, she said, “She won’t come out and doesn’t want me to come in, but I can see inside. You need to take a look at this.” Inching away from the door, Toots stood back so that Sophie could peer inside the huge master bath. From her position just outside the door, she could see Ida. She was in a fetal position in the middle of the floor, surrounded by a puddle of urine. When Sophie saw this, she knew there was no time for questions. She had to act, and she had to do it now. “Ida, let’s get up now!” She entered the bathroom and hooked her arms under Ida’s as she tried to lift her.

  “Come and help me, Toots. She’s as limp as a rag doll.”

  Toots raced to her aid. “I’ve been trying to coax her out, but she’s been totally unresponsive but not in a ‘call the medic’ way. This isn’t good, is it?”

  Together, they hoisted Ida into the Jacuzzi tub, uncaring that they were both standing in urine. “No, this is not good. Help me get her clothes off.”

  Sophie was remembering a time when just the thought of anything unhygienic near Ida would cause her to freak out and disinfect everything around her. She did not want her to fall back into her old OCD habits.

  “You get the shoes,” Sophie instructed. “I’ll work on the dress.” Together, they removed Ida’s clothes, and neither of them spoke. When they’d finished, Toots took the cup she used to rinse her mouth out with after she brushed her teeth and filled it with warm water. “Let me rinse the tub out first,” she said. A few cups of water later, Toots closed the drain and began to fill the tub with water. During all of this, Ida hadn’t said a single word, hadn’t moved a muscle. The living dead, Toots thought, but didn’t voice the words. She didn’t know if Ida’s ability to hear was affected at this point.

  “Hand me a washcloth,” Sophie instructed.

  Toots raced to the closet, where she kept a full supply of large, fluffy bath towels and washcloths. She handed one to Sophie, amazed at her ability, but remembered that she had been a nurse and this came natural to her. Later, she would tell her how impressed she was.

  “Do you have any bath gel?”

  Toots reached across the Jacuzzi tub for the bottle of gardenia-scented bath gel she used. She squirted a large amount in the center of the washcloth. “This will make her smell human again.”

  Sophie nodded, then proceeded to bathe Ida as if she were a newborn. Her ministrations were precise and gentle. Toots observed how efficient and caring her dear friend was. Someday, she would have to tell Ida how Sophie cared for her, but not today.

  After she rinsed the gel away, Sophie gently pulled Ida into a sitting position. “Help me get her feet over the tub, then, on the count of three, let’s lift her out. It’s okay if we put her in your bed?”

  “Of course it is,” Toots said.

  Five minutes later and a bit short-winded, they had dried Ida, and Sophie managed to put one of Toots’s nightgowns on her.
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  “So, what’s next?” Toots asked, knowing this was just the beginning.

  “I want her to wake up, and I’m not really sure how to go about doing this. I think we should allow her to wake up naturally, see if she’s in her own mind, then go from there. You’re okay with leaving her here for a while?”

  Toots shook her head. “I can’t believe you’d even ask me such a stupid question. Ida’s one of us even though she is a bit on the weird side. Of course she can stay here. Forever, if that’s what it takes.”

  Sophie rolled her brown eyes toward the ceiling, then genuflected. “And let’s pray that it doesn’t. A day with Ida is pure hell.”

  Toots laughed. “I’m sure you’ll remind her of that when she wakes up. Seriously, Soph, shouldn’t we be doing something? I don’t want to say the word, but don’t you think it’s time we called in a . . . specialist?”

  Sophie whirled around so fast she jarred her neck. “We are doing something, and if you so much as whisper that word, I will kick your ass from here to California and back. Round-trip. I’m going to take care of... this”—she nodded at Ida, who had remained motionless on the bed the entire time—“as soon as she’s awake. Now, aren’t you supposed to be helping out with lunch?”

  “Is this your way of telling me to get out of my own room?” Toots asked.

  “Yes, now go. I have a few things I need to do, and I really do not want an audience.” Sophie stood by the bed, one hand gently resting on Ida’s head.

  “Okay. Give me a shout if you need anything. And I mean anything, Sophie,” Toots said, the last words filled with total sincerity.

  Drawing a deep breath, Sophie shook her head. “I know that. I just need to spend some time alone with Ida right now. I have an idea, and I need to focus.”

  Toots understood and left the room.

  As soon as the door closed Sophie walked to the opposite side of Toots’s big bed and hoisted herself onto it. After propping the pillows up and leaning against them, she took Ida’s hand in hers and began to pray.