Outside were bins of vegetables that had already been picked over. Standing near them, a young man in a navy uniform held hands with a young woman, whose coat did little to hide the swell of her belly.
‘I’ll be back before you know it,’ the man said. ‘You’ll stay in the guest house at Dad’s ranch in Sacramento, then when I get back, we’ll go on a proper honeymoon and build a nice house.’
The woman cradled her belly, worry written all over her face. ‘I’m scared, Jimmy.’
‘Don’t be scared, honey. We’re going to have a good life together. I promise.’
When the tears flowed onto her cheeks, the young man wiped them away with his handkerchief. My heart contracted at the tenderness in his eyes.
The veil became visible, a moving wall of shimmering light in a dizzying range of colours. It encircled the couple like a cocoon, and the knowledge flooded my brain in an instant. This poor young mother-to-be’s fears were indeed well founded. Jimmy wasn’t coming home. She would be forced to live on Jimmy’s father’s ranch with her child and an irascible mother-in-law. My heart broke for her.
‘Hey, can we have some privacy?’ Jimmy snapped.
The shimmering light vanished, bringing me back to my own reality.
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Nosy,’ Jimmy said.
I hurried into the store, away from Jimmy’s angry gaze. Moretti’s was a small store, and most of its inventory was housed in the back. The shelves where the butter, sugar, and flour should have been were now empty. At least I didn’t have to face the crowds at the Safeway, with my various ration books in hand, following the printout of helpful hints on how to stretch my coupon points to the limit. Mr Moretti would take my order, along with the ration books, and work everything out himself. If only he would take orders over the telephone. Alas, Mr Moretti insisted – except in the instance of a dire emergency— – that orders be placed in person.
A heavyset woman wearing a white apron over her dress swept the already immaculate floors. She raised her eyebrows at me. ‘Can I help you?’
‘Yes, please. I’m here to place an order for the Geisler Institute.’
She gestured towards the back of the store, where a tall man with the bushiest moustache I had ever seen stood behind a counter. He wore a green apron with the words Sal Moretti embroidered across the chest. I stepped in line behind an elderly woman from whom he was taking an order.
‘I’ll have these things up to you later, Mrs Burke.’
After the woman stepped away, Mr Moretti nodded at me in greeting. I took the list out of my purse, along with the ration books, and explained who I was.
‘Where is Alice?’
‘She has influenza,’ I said.
‘Surely you’re not a servant?’ Mr Moretti peered at me over the top of the reading glasses that perched on his bulbous nose.
‘No,’ I said. ‘I’m Dr Geisler’s amanuensis. Mrs McDougal sent me in her place.’ I gave him my list and the packet of ration books, just as two Western Union boys stepped into the store, the brown leather messenger bags over their shoulders. The woman behind the counter handed them each a steaming mug of coffee.
They said thank you and sipped. I didn’t envy their tasks, delivering bad news from the fighting overseas. How many mothers and wives would learn that their sons or husbands had died in service? How many would cover the blue stars in their windows with gold today? Both men – just boys really, too young to fight – had dark circles under their eyes. They looked hungry, too.
I stepped out onto the sidewalk into the bracing wind. Rather than try to hold my hat in place, I removed the pins and took it off, savouring the gusts that blew my hair everywhere. I trudged up Jackson Street, my hair blowing wild, my mind on Zeke and Alysse. What did she want from me? I was so preoccupied, I didn’t see the blue Packard limousine pull up to the kerb and roll to a stop, until a man who reminded me of a marauding Viking got out of the car and stood before me, blocking the sidewalk.
‘Miss Bennett?’
‘Do I know you?’ The sun glinted behind him, casting him in shadows. I strained to see his face. Something wasn’t right. A chill ran up my spine as I heard Alysse’s voice. ‘Run!’ I spun around and started to bolt back down the hill.
Within seconds, strong arms reached around me from behind, encircling my waist. I held fast to my hat with one hand and clutched my purse with the other as the man lifted me up and slung me over his shoulder like a sack of sugar. He knocked my hat out of my hand, and I watched, unable to do anything, as it blew away on a gust of the March wind.
The Viking hauled me to the waiting car. He opened the rear passenger door and threw me onto the smooth leather seat with such force that I slid across it and hit the door on the opposite side. The giant stayed outside the car, leaning on the car, trapping me. I sat up and pulled my skirt back down over my legs. My purse had fallen to the floor, its contents scattered everywhere.
‘Collect your things. Be quick about it.’
The fat man who sat across from me expected me to obey. I almost defied him. A quick glance at the Viking, who had pushed away from the car door, changed my mind.
With shaking hands, I stuffed my belongings back into my purse. I dropped my lipstick. It slid under the seat.
‘Bit of a klutz.’ The man who sat across from me had jowls like a bulldog and soulless eyes.
‘I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.’
‘No. I know who you are, Miss Bennett. Your boyfriend has something of mine.’
The man’s fat face bloomed an unbecoming shade of red. I recognized him. The man was younger and thinner in the picture Aunt Lillian had given me. Hendrik Shrader. His face broke out in a sheen of oily perspiration. I noticed an odour, like the smell of yeast and unwashed body parts. My stomach clenched. I gagged, certain I was about to vomit on the fine leather seats. I focused on my breathing, on the technique that Dr Geisler had taught me during our hypnotherapy session. My stomach calmed and the seats were saved.
Hendrik Shrader scrutinized me from head to toe, taking in my unpolished shoes, my stockings that needed to be thrown away, my tweed skirt that had seen better days, and my shabby coat with its threadbare cuffs. He didn’t even bother to hide his distaste. He took a handkerchief out of his suit pocket and mopped at the sweat on his forehead. My stomach roiled in disgust.
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ I slid closer to the door, thinking I could let myself out and be finished with this nonsense. But the Viking leaned against it, blocking my way.
‘The book of contacts. I want it. Tell Mr Caen he has forty-eight hours before I return to get it. Tell him you will not be safe until he returns it. I would also be very grateful if you told your boyfriend that if any of the men whose names are listed in that book come to harm, I will kill you myself without mercy. Do you understand?’
My mouth went dry. I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat.
‘Good. You’re frightened. You better hope you don’t see me again, Miss Bennett. The next time won’t be as pleasant.’
He rapped on the window. The Viking opened the door. He held out his hand in an offer of assistance, as though he were a gentleman instead of a thug. I ignored him and got out, clutching my purse. My hair whipped in the wind. I pushed it out of my face and held it back, white-hot anger growing strong in me as the blue car drove away.
* * *
Chloe sat at her desk, organizing a stack of index cards. When I slammed the door, she stopped working and watched me race up the stairs that led to the hospital wing.
I found Zeke in his room, sitting in his usual chair, his face hidden behind the newspaper.
‘What’s happened?’
‘What’s happened?’ I took a breath and forced myself to speak in a measured tone. ‘I’ve realized how utterly and totally stupid I have been, that’s what’s happened. How stupid I was to think that you actually might love me.’
‘Sarah—’
&n
bsp; ‘I just had the pleasure of meeting your friend, Hendrik Shrader. It’s not like I had a choice. His bodyguard – or whatever that man is – forced me into the back of his car. You have forty-eight hours to return his book to him. If you don’t, or if any of the men whose names and addresses are listed in that book are harmed, next time he will show me no mercy.’
‘Did he hurt you?’
‘His thug threw me in the back of his car. My skirt flew up, so he got an eyeful.’
Zeke stared past me, the muscle in this jaw releasing and contracting. When he spoke, his voice was as flat and still as the eye of a storm. ‘You’re sure it was Hendrik Shrader?’
‘Of course, I’m sure. He’s older, much fatter, but it’s him.’
‘I can fix this. You’ve nothing to fear. We can take steps to assure that you will be safe. I’ll arrange for someone to watch the house and have someone accompany you when you need to go out. Unless I can convince you to leave. Could you arrange to take your work with you? I can arrange a safe place—’
‘I don’t want a safe place. I want to stay here. I am not too enthusiastic about having to have someone with me at all times.’
I turned to go. Zeke clasped my arm and pulled me around to face him.
‘Let me go,’ I hissed.
‘No. You’re going to listen to what I have to say.’
‘No, I’m not. You know the irony here? I’ve been worried about you, about us, the idea that I could lose you again. I’ve tried to be understanding of your lifestyle, this job you have, which I know very little about because you can’t tell me. You have this secret life, and I’ve just now realized that I’ve never had you at all. I thought you came here to be near me. That’s not true, is it?’ I remembered Zeke’s reaction to the picture of Minna and her father. ‘You came here because of Minna and her father, didn’t you?’ When I uttered these words, Zeke let go of my arm. I moved away from him.
‘I’ll tell you everything. You just have to give me time.’
‘No,’ I shouted, not caring who heard me. ‘I’m tired of waiting for you to trust me enough to share your life with me.’
He didn’t speak. He didn’t move.
I collected myself, forced the hysteria from my voice. ‘I love you, Zeke, but I can’t do this. I’m sorry. Stay away from me. We’re finished.’
Zeke’s eyes, when they met mine, were awash with desperate sorrow.
I ignored it and walked out of his room, full of forced poise that threatened to collapse at any moment. After an eternity I arrived at my room. With shaking hands, I unlocked my door.
Once inside I leaned against it for a moment, taking deep, gasping breaths of air. I pulled the curtains, kicked off my shoes, threw myself on the bed, and wept.
* * *
I awoke with my pillowcase stuck to my cheek, held fast by the tears that had dried there. The sun had fallen, taking the warmth of my room with her. As the fog of sleep cleared, the events of the afternoon began to replay in my mind’s eye, like a film in slow motion. We are finished. The finality of the words gripped me and knotted in my stomach, a physical reminder of my broken heart.
Zeke and I had shared passionate kisses and much more in Bennett Cove, but he had left me to face Jack Bennett’s murder trial by myself. My personal life, my time at the asylum, the pills I took, what I ate for breakfast, everything about my life, had been headlined in the local papers and more than one national edition. I suffered for nothing. In the end, Jack Bennett went free, blaming the murders on his young bride, whose untimely demise had prevented her from challenging his story.
As much as I loved Zeke, I had to face the facts: he had made no promises to me. For all I knew, he could be planning his next junket right this minute. Ending this relationship was the only thing I could do to save my sanity. With time and effort, I would get over him. Meanwhile, I would do my work for Dr Geisler. After that, I would have experience. Dr Geisler’s good reference would go a long way in helping me get another job far away from Zeke. Between my responsibilities with Dr Geisler and the help Mrs McDougal required of me, I would be too busy to worry about my romantic woes. As I splashed water on my face and fixed my hair, I realized I could get a second job – maybe work as a waitress at night.
I warmed to the idea of starting over in a city where people didn’t know me. I had just changed into fresh clothes when someone rapped on my bedroom door. My heart rate quickened. Zeke had come. I paused before the door and took a deep breath. Of course I would forgive him. I loved him. I opened the door, only to discover Bethany standing before me, holding a tray containing a pot of tea and some buttered toast, with a package tucked under her arm. She offered a tentative smile.
‘You were expecting someone else? Zeke?’
I realized how rude I must have seemed. ‘I’m sorry. Yes, I thought maybe he had come – we had a horrible fight.’
‘May I come in? I’ve brought tea and could use a cup myself.’
‘Of course.’ I stepped aside for her.
She set the tray on my dresser and handed the package to me. I sat at the tiny table by my window as she poured us each a cup then passed me a plate of toast. Famished from skipping lunch, I wasted no time in taking a hearty bite.
‘I’ve always liked this room. It’s so warm and inviting,’ she said. ‘I heard you had a bit of an argument with Zeke. The nurses were talking about it. They heard you shouting. I thought you could use some cheering up.’
I unwrapped the thick brown paper, pleased to discover two novels by Agatha Christie: Peril at End House and The Sittaford Mystery.
‘I know you and Mrs McDougal listen to The Inner Sanctum Mysteries together, so I assumed you would like Agatha Christie. They’re from my private collection,’ Bethany said. ‘I bought them when Matthew and I went to England before the war. I’d like you to have them.’
‘They’re lovely. Thank you.’
‘When you’ve finished, I have others you are welcome to borrow.’ Bethany sipped her tea. ‘Sarah, what happened between you and Zeke? The nurses told me he’s been storming around all afternoon, sighing and talking to himself. I don’t mean to pry into your personal business, but is there anything I can do to help? I’m a good listener, and I’ve been married more years than I care to count.’
‘Thanks, but I think I just need to sort this out on my own.’
‘Just know that I’m here if you need me.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I’d better go.’
‘I’ll take the tray down.’ I rose and saw Bethany to the door.
Just before stepping in the hall, she turned and gave me a knowing look. ‘Zeke loves you. Any fool can see that. I understand you’re mad at him, but I hope you can talk to him about whatever it is that’s troubling you. From experience I can say that communication is the foundation of any successful marriage or relationship.’ She looked as if she wanted to say more. ‘I’ll see you later.’
‘Thank you for the books.’
* * *
I worked for a few hours before dinner, and the rest of the afternoon and evening passed without incident. Mrs McDougal busied me in the kitchen and gave me free rein to do as I pleased. I made a pot of vegetable stew using the chicken stock, the vegetables from our victory garden, and a few cups of barley. For the most part Mrs McDougal’s kindhearted attempt to preoccupy me worked. But every time footsteps approached the kitchen, my heart would beat a little faster in the hope that Zeke had come to patch things up between us. I had never been in love before and found myself ill-equipped to deal with the pain of losing it.
‘Sarah, you need to stop working now.’ Mrs McDougal took the broom from my hand. ‘You’ve made enough soup for an army, washed the dishes, scoured the sink, and now you’re going at the floor with abandon. You’ve been sweeping the same spot for twenty minutes. I know what you’re trying to do, but wearing yourself out so you don’t have to face things isn’t the best answer. For heaven’s sakes, go and talk to him.’
‘No, I can’t.’
‘Why don’t you go up to your room and slip into bed with one of your books? I’ll make you a cup of cocoa, and maybe you can get some sleep.’ She took the broom from my hand. ‘Off you go.’
I had just changed into my nightgown, when Mrs McDougal arrived with the promised cocoa. I sipped it, conscious of the drops that lay in their brown bottle next to my bedside carafe. I chose not to add them to the cocoa. Tonight I would do Alysse’s bidding. The cool sheets and weight of the heavy comforter embraced me. I turned out the lights and slept.
I awoke at the stroke of midnight to find Alysse sitting in a cherry-wood rocking chair that I had never seen before. She moved her lips, but no sound came out of them.
I shook my head. ‘I still can’t hear you.’
Like a petulant child, she balled her hands into fists and shook her head, as though convincing herself to be rational. She beckoned me to follow her. I stood up and faced her. We were nose to nose, and I held my hand up, palm out. In a strange and mystical pantomime, she did the same. A current of electricity flowed between us, pungent and hot. When our palms touched, a jolt of pure white light washed over me.
I found myself in a schoolroom. I could tell from the position of the windows and the staircase that I was at what was now the nurses’ station in the hospital wing. Three children’s desks replaced the present-day, utilitarian desks the nurses used. A wooden stand held a giant chalkboard covered with sentences in the perfect cursive writing that children try to emulate. A globe rested on a bookcase pushed under the window. The case was stuffed full of children’s primers on reading, mathematics, history, and geography. Alysse pointed to one of the school desks. I sat and watched in wonderment as she walked up to the chalkboard, picked up a piece of chalk, and started to write in perfect cursive letters.
Find it Find it Find it Find it, over and over she wrote.
The House of Secrets Page 11
