Zeke sat in the chair by his bed, writing a letter.
‘Hello,’ I said.
‘Come in.’ As he folded the letter in half and tucked it in the book he had on his lap, I caught a glimpse of his familiar spidery handwriting. He capped the fountain pen, set it and the book on the table next to him. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I’m not sure. I hear the weeping.’ I sat down in the chair next to Zeke. ‘It’s nerve-racking.’
‘Have you tried the exercises Dr Geisler taught you?’
‘Yes, and they’ve helped until recently. My instruction stopped too soon.’ I gave Zeke a faint smile. ‘Wade Connor got rid of the reporters.’
‘Yes, I know. He also confessed to planting the linen deliveryman here to keep an eye on me. Wade doesn’t trust my judgement when I am near you.’
‘So Gregory—’
‘It is not the linen deliveryman. I’m sorry, Sarah. The resemblance was uncanny, but in this instance it was just a coincidence. Don’t take it to heart.’
‘You should know, Cynthia suspects something’s going on with you and Wade and that it relates to Minna. Wade sparked her interest when he went to the paper and threw his weight around today. Now Cynthia’s curious. I promise you, she’ll start snooping.’
‘Wade can handle Cynthia Forrester,’ Zeke said. ‘Don’t worry.’
‘I need to get some sleep.’ I stood up, satiated with steak and martinis.
‘I’ll get you away from here, Sarah. Meanwhile, I want you to keep your bedroom door locked. Be careful, okay?’
‘I know that tone of voice. What’s happened?’
‘I can’t tell you. I’m sorry. Just be careful.’ He got to his feet and wrapped his good arm around me. ‘I’ll be away tomorrow, but should be back by lunchtime. We’ve plans to make, don’t we?’
We do, indeed. I sighed and leaned into the heat that emanated from Zeke. We stood like that for a long time, neither one of us making an effort to break the physical connection between us, until we heard footsteps in the corridor.
‘I’m going to bed,’ I said, pushing away from Zeke.
‘You’ll take the drops?’
‘I can’t sleep without them,’ I said.
‘Lock your door,’ he called after me.
Eunice Martin was on duty. At first she was reluctant to give me any drugs at all, but when I explained that I took the morphine at night, and explained why, she capitulated.
Back in my room, I finished my evening ablutions and crawled into bed, savouring the feel of the heavy comforter and cool sheets. As the morphine kicked in, the weeping diminished, growing fainter with each passing minute.
Soon it faded into the background, like a distant whisper, quiet enough so that I could sleep.
Outside, the rain continued, lulling me to sleep as it tapped the windowpane.
Chapter Fourteen
I awoke early the next morning. I put my feet on the cold wooden floor and walked towards the bathroom, my thoughts on Zeke and the promise of our future together. Though my windows were shut, a gale whipped through my room, catching me off guard, and sweeping all the papers and books off the writing desk. I gripped the bedpost and tried to remain standing as the wind swirled around, chilling me to the bone, and threatening to lift my feet off the ground. My fountain pen and bottle of ink flew to the floor with such force that it broke, spilling a pool of thick blue ink on the white rug.
‘Stop that!’ I cried out, not caring who heard me.
‘Don’t take the drops.’
The words were a whisper, the merest thought, but they penetrated my brain as though Alysse shouted them in my ear. I moved to the centre of my room, holding my nightgown tight to my body. The stain of blue ink morphed into a blood-red pool. Outside, a bolt of lightning sliced through the darkening sky. A clap of thunder caused my bedroom walls to rattle with such intensity that the pictures shook. My seascapes fell off the highboy and clattered to the floor.
‘Don’t take the drops. I need to tell you. Please.’
‘I won’t take them tonight.’ I covered my ears with my hands. Too many sounds. Too much. My bedroom walls started to roll in undulating waves. Just as I opened my mouth to scream, everything stopped. Nothing moved. Someone pounded on the bedroom door.
‘Sarah? Are you in there?’
Bethany! I slipped on my robe, thinking I could speak to her and send her on her way. I didn’t even look at the chaos behind me as I opened the door a crack.
‘Good morning,’ Bethany said. ‘I heard you talking and wondered who you have in here.’
She peered behind me. I tried to block her view, but she wiggled through the door and entered my room. I closed my eyes for a second, preparing myself for the litany that would come when Bethany saw the ocean of blue ink on the creamy white rug.
I worried for nothing. Aside from the skirt I had hung over the back of a chair, and my messed-up bedding, my room lay in perfect order. The papers rested on my writing desk in a neat stack. My fountain pen and inkwell sat next to them, not a spot of ink anywhere to be seen. My seascapes still rested on top of the highboy. I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it again, not quite sure what to say, while Bethany watched me with a curious look on her face.
‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Yes. That was quite a storm, wasn’t it? I haven’t seen lightning like that in years.’
‘Storm? What storm?’ She cocked her head and stared at me. ‘It’s the morphine. Hallucinations aren’t uncommon. I’m happy to adjust your prescription for you, just in case you are taking too much. Anyway, I just came to see how you were and to let you know that I’ll be home today.’
‘Any news of Dr Geisler?’
‘The operation went well, but it’s too soon to tell. The doctors have forbidden visitors for the next couple of days, as Matthew needs to rest. As much as I hate to admit it, I need the rest, too. We’ve got patients coming in, some of them to convalesce, and I need to be here to see to them.’ Bethany’s make-up application did little to hide the exhaustion that etched itself over her face. ‘Mrs McDougal will have breakfast ready in fifteen minutes. We’re to have potato casserole and eggs.’ She massaged the back of her neck.
‘Why don’t you get some rest, Bethany? I’m sure Eunice Martin can see to things.’
‘I plan on it, but I have things I need to do for Matthew.’
I closed the door behind her and walked over to my writing desk. The inkwell was cold to the touch. My journal sat open on the desk. New words graced the pages, words that I hadn’t written. Finditfinditfinditfinditfinditfinditfinditfindit covered every page, front and back.
I dumped the notebook in the garbage can and girded myself to face the day.
* * *
Downstairs, Chloe sat at her desk, bent over the thick ledgers that consumed most of her time. She caught my eye as I passed and nodded towards the corner. Tucked out of sight to anyone who wasn’t looking for him, Mr Collins sat at the piano, his hands folded in his lap, his head bowed, his eyes closed, as though he were in prayer.
‘What’s going on?’ I whispered, not wanting to disturb him.
‘Miss Bethany told me to let him sit there.’ We watched him for a few seconds. I had never seen anyone so still before. I envied Mr Collins his deep reflection.
‘I think he misses Dr Geisler, poor thing,’ Chloe said. She picked up her pencil and got back to work.
Bethany and Mrs McDougal were sitting at the refectory table. Bethany had already eaten, and her empty plate rested at her elbow. She peered over the top of her newspaper and nodded at me as I poured coffee and spooned some of Mrs McDougal’s potato casserole onto my plate. I took a piece of toast from the rack and joined the women at the table.
‘How about if I make some chicken soup? I’ve got plenty of stock,’ Mrs McDougal said.
‘That would be fine,’ Bethany said. ‘Matthew prefers your cooking, Mrs McDougal, and no doctor would deny a patient their chicken soup.’
<
br /> ‘Will you be able to rest, ma’am? Surely you’re not planning on nursing today?’ Mrs McDougal had begun collecting the dirty dishes from the table.
‘I am going to write some letters in Matthew’s office. I do plan on going to bed early tonight.’
‘That’s fine, ma’am. And a good thing, too. You’ll be wanting your dinner on a tray—’ Mrs McDougal stopped, stood stock still, and stared at the doorway, her eyes wide and mouth agape.
Minna. She stood in the doorway, looking like a ghost come to haunt us. Her hair hung in long silver ringlets, like a veil, over her satin nightgown. Anger pulsated off her in electric waves, charging the room with tension.
‘Minna.’ Bethany spoke in a gentle voice as she pushed herself away from the table.
‘Don’t address me. I’m the one doing the talking now.’ Minna stepped into the room. Mrs McDougal, the stack of dirty dishes still in her arms, backed away from Minna until she hit the counter and couldn’t back up any farther. ‘I know what you’re doing, Bethany. I know what you’ve done, and what you’re up to. By God, you’ll not get away with it.’
I glanced at Bethany. For just a brief second, fear flashed in her eyes, and the realization that we could, indeed, be in danger hit me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mrs McDougal set the stack of dishes on the counter and slip out the door into the corridor that led to the hospital wing. With any luck, she’d summon the orderlies. I found it difficult to breathe.
‘I’ve hired a lawyer and I’m going to fight you. You will not get away with this. Did you push him? Did you push Matthew in front of that bus?’
Bethany didn’t say anything. She stood just out of Minna’s reach, careful not to startle her.
‘You did!’ Minna rubbed her hand over her face.
Neither Bethany nor I moved. My stomach clenched as my eyes lit on the rack behind Minna that held Mrs McDougal’s knives, each and every one of them sharpened and lethal. How easy it would be for Minna to turn around, pick up one of those knives, and finish us off. Minna gave me a puzzled look, as if she were seeing me for the first time. Her hands, which were clenched into fists, relaxed. Her shoulders caved in on her.
‘Oh, Sarah. I didn’t see you there. Do you see what I’ve become?’ She wiped her nose with her sleeve. ‘You’ll run to my father and tell him that he’s succeeded, won’t you? Go ahead – tell him he won. See if I care. You’re all against me. I cannot believe I came here. I cannot believe I trusted you.’
Two orderlies entered the room just as Minna broke down in tears. Mrs McDougal followed at their heels. When Minna saw the orderlies, the crazed look went out of her eyes. She held up her hands when one of the men came towards her.
‘Don’t touch me,’ she said. ‘I’m fine. I’ll go with you quietly.’ She stepped towards the hallway, one of the men in front of her, the other following behind. Just before leaving the kitchen, she turned and spoke to Bethany. ‘I’m hiring a lawyer, Bethany. I’m going to expose you for what you are.’
Bethany didn’t speak. After Minna had gone, she sat back down at the table and massaged her forehead.
‘Can I make you some coffee? Do you want some water?’ I didn’t know what to do for Bethany.
‘She needs good sweet tea,’ Mrs McDougal said. ‘I didn’t know what else to do, ma’am. I went and got the men from upstairs.’
‘Thank you, Mrs McDougal. Good thinking,’ Bethany said. ‘This should be all in a day’s work for me, but I admit that I am saddened by her deterioration. Matthew would be heartbroken. Thankfully, I’ve been able to keep it from him.’ She continued to massage her forehead. ‘I don’t know how much more of this I can take.’
‘That woman will murder us in our …’
Mrs McDougal’s lips moved, she spoke, but I couldn’t hear her. The weeping returned with a crescendo that promised to split my skull in two. The sound consumed me. Mrs McDougal’s mouth moved as she talked to Bethany. I couldn’t hear a word they said. Bethany’s lips moved as she replied to Mrs McDougal and poured herself another cup of coffee. As she poured, the black liquid became viscous, moving in slow motion as it sloshed into her glass.
Someone must have asked me a question, as both women fixed their gazes on me. Mrs McDougal’s mouth moved, but her words fell on deaf ears. Mrs McDougal came towards me, concern written all over her face, mouthing words that I couldn’t hear.
Soon Bethany noticed something was wrong. She said something to Mrs McDougal, who hurried out of the room. She sat down next to me and reached out her hand. It moved in slow motion towards me. When she touched my shoulder, the weeping stopped. Just like that.
‘… you hear me? Sarah, if you can hear me, say something.’
Time righted itself. Bethany’s voice, crisp and commanding as a cold winter’s morning, broke through the fog.
‘I can hear you.’ I took a sharp, gasping breath – the type of breath that you take when you’ve been under water so long you fear you might faint. When I exhaled, all the tension left my body. Oh, how I appreciated the blessed silence.
‘What happened?’ Bethany felt my forehead. ‘You don’t have a temperature.’
‘My ears clogged up. It happens sometimes. I have allergies,’ I lied easily as I pushed away from the table. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I need to get to work.’
* * *
Alysse stayed with me for hours. She didn’t weep, but she hovered just out of sight in the blind spot of my mind’s eye, like a shadow that couldn’t be chased. Her breath came in icy blasts on the back of my neck, her fingers but a whisper on my arm. I worked and tried to lose myself in typewriting and proofreading.
In Matthew’s office, Bethany made phone calls and wrote cheques. Every now and then her side of the conversation would filter into my office, sounding woeful and beleaguered. I tuned her out and focused on my work. After a few hours she came to my office.
Please, make her go away. I didn’t say the words out loud. Instead, I waited. She sat down in the chair next to my desk, plucked at her skirt, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
‘A publisher has expressed an interest in Matthew’s book. I’ve decided to go ahead with getting it into print, as I know that’s what he would want.’ She took a deep breath and met my eyes.
Something about her body language and her tone made me brace myself for bad news.
‘I want to discuss your plans. Zeke cannot stay here forever, and frankly, we need his bed. I am hopeful that you can finish typewriting my husband’s notes in two weeks. I’m happy to pay you through the end of the month and give you a good reference. Of course, you are welcome to stay here as long as you need to. I assume you and Zeke will marry …’
My face went hot. I stammered something incomprehensible.
‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’ve made a mess of this. I’ll give you an excellent reference, Sarah. You’ve done a superb job. I just need to make plans for the hospital and for Matthew’s recovery. Frankly, we need the income. I need to fill our beds. I’m going to shift focus on other ailments besides psychiatric ones. I think we are going to expand the ward to include surgical rehabilitation, as well. Big changes are afoot. The hospital is going to grow. And Matthew’s textbook will help us get there.’
‘I can finish in two weeks,’ I said.
‘Excellent. I’ll let you get to it then. If there’s anything you need, anything I can do to help you, all you’ve got to do is ask.’
Fantasies of my paycheck and a glowing reference led to thoughts of life with Zeke. I saw our apartment, me wearing an apron over a smart dress, cooking something for Zeke. I saw our living room with bookcases stuffed with all sorts of books, and a big desk where Zeke would work while I read. No, best not think too much, lest I jinx it.
Alysse left me alone. I worked in blessed peace and silence, typing a total of eight pages, and had just started the handwritten summary when my fountain pen ran out of ink. I set my pen down and picked up my own bottle of ink. Bone
dry. I shook it for good measure, but not even a drop remained in the bottom of the bottle. Dr Geisler had ink in his office. I stood up. The weeping returned.
Chapter Fifteen
This time the sobbing didn’t pervade my entire psyche; rather it resonated in the recesses of my conscious mind, like water burbling from a fountain. I switched on Dr Geisler’s desk lamp, not surprised to discover that Bethany had cleared away the notebooks, folders, and books he kept around him in chaotic heaps. With a sinking heart, I took in the polished desktop, empty now, save the silver inkwell and a blotter. I sat down in the chair, wondering if a fresh bottle of ink was in the offing, or if I should just bring my pen in here and refill it from the silver well.
As I sat down, my foot hit Bethany’s leather satchel, which she had tucked under the desk. It tipped over. Papers slipped out and came to rest in the shape of a fan. Two brown bottles fell out and rolled across the wooden floor, hit the baseboard, and rolled back towards me before coming to rest. The apothecary labels read Digoxin – Poison! and Laudanum – Poison.
Both bottles came from an apothecary in London. I put them back in the bag, which I leaned against the side of the writing desk. It didn’t take long for me to put the scattered papers into some semblance of order, but as I stuffed them back into the satchel, a letter from the San Francisco Bank of Commerce addressed to Miss Minna Summerly, in care of Dr Matthew Geisler, The Geisler Institute, caught my eye.
As soon as I read the name on the envelope, Alysse stopped her incessant weeping. She didn’t make a sound. I began to slip it back into the satchel and the weeping started again. I pulled the letter out, and the weeping stopped. The silence spoke volumes. I knew what Alysse wanted me to do. I stuffed the letter in my pocket.’
‘Sarah?’
I yelped as I sat up, bumping my head on the corner of the desk.
The House of Secrets Page 16
