Echoes Through the Mist: A Paranormal Mystery (The Echoes Quartet Book 1)

by K. Francis Ryan

  “’Tis tired he’s getting and we with our gobs flappin’,” Mr. Clooney said. “Say it plain for us all, James.”

  James McGraw took a step forward, straightened himself, threw out his chest and hooked his thumbs in his waistband. He cleared his throat as though he was about to address Parliament.

  “Mr. Julian, it is proud we are to have you with us. You single handed saved the life of our dear old parish priest, Father Fahey, and took a beatin’ for your kindness, but without thought for your fine self you saved our church by throwin’ your bleedin’ and broken body on the flames them godless hooligans left behind themselves.

  “For this we thank you and will forever be in your debt. You’ll not be forgot for what you’ve done and thems that injured you will not be forgiven.”

  “Well said, well said,” the chorus echoed and there were many congratulatory handshakes and slaps on the back among the visitors.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Ailís said. “We must now let Mr. Julian get his rest. He must be fully rested, for one never knows when God will place another test in his path.” The doctor grinned and stuck her tongue out at Julian.

  Ailís Dwyer saw the group out and returned to Julian’s room with a self-satisfied look on her face. “No more random sampling could possibly be found. I picked the first group of people I saw on the street and dragged them in.”

  “But they’re wrong. That isn’t the way it happened. It was nothing like that,” Julian sputtered. “And you know it.”

  “No? Well you are going to have the opportunity to convince the entire population hereabout of the error of their ways. Mind you, they will only see you as being modest – as befits any good saint. You’ll never change their minds, so accept your fate.

  She continued. “Sadly, you have no choice now but to live up to their expectations and that won’t be hard since nearly everything you do from here on out, no matter how loony, will be ascribed some divine origin,” she arched an eyebrow and added, “even your extracurricular activities.” She got up, arranged his blanket and started for the door. “Pleasant dreams – St. Julian,” she said and her laughter echoed down the hallway.

  ***

  By the end of the week, Cappel Vale’s saint was put on display in the parlor everyday between nine o’clock and ten, and the faithful queued up in an orderly fashion to pay their respects.

  At first Julian tried to explain that far from being a saint he was an unfortunate casualty of circumstances. He attempted to tell the faithful that he had actually acquitted himself very poorly as witnessed by the yellowing bruises on his face. He endeavored to instruct his visitors that rather than save the church and its pastor he had actually brought this trouble on them. His reasoning was, if he overstated by one hundred percent and people discounted half of it, they would be near the truth. Julian’s reasoning, of course, was wrong.

  Like people of faith the world over, his protestations only fueled a more fervent belief. They put it down to the humility and modesty that one could ascribe to any of God’s anointed. In the end, he gave up trying to change minds and resigned himself to a neutral expression with the occasional shy smile and gentle word.

  Dr. Dwyer was right. He needed to accept his fate. In being right, she exercised what Julian told her was an exceedingly unattractive smugness that did not became her profession, her nationality and her sex. His characterization of her only elicited wall-shuddering laughter from Ailís.

  Julian even tried to extract the help of Father Fahey. He begged the old priest to read out from the pulpit what Julian saw as the actual sequence of events. In this, he was to be stymied. The priest’s recollection was hazy at best and what he did remember tended to support the view of Julian-as-champion rather than Julian’s view of himself as a hapless crime statistic.

  Otherwise, the days progressed with painful slowness. With each, Julian ached a little less. Each day the swelling and bruising faded a little more. Each day he found moving a little easier. And each day he felt Ailís become more distant. For this last, he had no explanation.

  True, Julian wasn’t the perfect patient, but he tried to follow her directions and he found that she was becoming more stern with him the harder he tried. It seemed to him that with each advance in his physical condition, each improvement in his strength, Ailís became more cross with him.

  He couldn’t understand her attitude and attributed it to his inability to understand women in general. In the end, he returned to the notion it was something he was doing or saying. That was the easiest answer. He was very far off the mark. The easy answers are often the wrong answers.

  ***

  “You’re disappointed in me, huh?” Julian asked Moira Hagan as she visited him one afternoon toward the end of a week filled with the visitations from the faithful and Julian’s discovery that he wasn’t indestructible.

  “Disappointed? Why ever would I be disappointed?” she answered.

  “After all the time you’ve invested in me it seems to have done no good at all. I should have known I was not alone with Father Fahey in the church. I could have felt it if I had focused on my entire surroundings rather than just a small portion. I should have been able to take myself out of the situation by using my advantages.

  “Instead I reverted to being the idiot I was when I arrived. It was as if you had told me nothing, as if I had learned nothing. I made a hash of things from beginning to end and I’m sorry I failed you.”

  “Failed me, do you say?” The Hagan smiled, cocked her head to one side and suddenly Julian’s mind was filled with her words. Her ability to use this talent was unpredictable.

  “No, you didn’t arrive at the church soon enough to save that old fool of a priest from getting a lump on his pate – that he doubtless deserved. No, you did not detect what must have been an impressively ugly presence put out by your attackers. No, you didn’t keep them from attempting to set fire to the place. No, you didn’t use the talents you’ve developed to turn the situation to advantage. No, you didn’t capture the evildoers.

  “And no, you did not disappoint me. You were concerned for that priest – although why you should have been, I will never know. He has a head made entirely of granite and the thumping he received has made him the object of substantial sympathy, which he will use to get invited to untold free meals while causing his collection plate to be just a little heavier.

  “According to Sean Maher, the men who beat you were cunning in the way they went about their job of work. By the time they started in on you, it was already too late for you to collect yourself. In the end, you made the dual choices of getting help for the priest and putting out the fire rather than let Sean go after your assailants.

  “On the whole, you made more right choices than wrong ones.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. What happened, happened. Learn from it and prepare for the next onslaught – for there will be one – on that you may depend, laddie and the consequences may be dire.

  “What, nothing to say?”

  “No,” Julian said out loud.

  ***

  Late that night Ailís looked in on Julian as he slept. He looked better. His color was returning and much of the swelling was down. She approached his bed. Extending her hand, she touched his lips with her fingertips. Her touch was as soft and tender as his kisses had been.

  Reaching up she brushed hair off his forehead, then her fingers traced the deep scar on his cheek she knew was under the bandage. The last time she had changed the dressing it had looked better but was still livid.

  Ailís Dwyer the doctor, looked at Julian and in assessing his condition had reason for optimism.

  Ailís Dwyer the woman looked at this man, this man with the soft, gray eyes and the sensuous lips. She looked at this man with the gentle touch and a tenderness she had not known before and whispered, “I am sorry – for both of us, more sorry than you will ever know.”

  She leaned down and kissed his forehead as a tear rolled down her cheek onto his
.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Another week drew to a close and Julian was slowly getting dressed to receive what promised to be the last of those who lined up outside in the brisk November weather to thank him for his efforts.

  He was pulling on his boots with some effort when a light knock came at the door to his sick room. Ailís Dwyer in taupe slacks and a cream colored silk blouse stuck her head in. To Julian she was as beautiful as when he had first seen her. He doubted she would ever look differently to him. She asked if he had a moment and with a smile, he motioned her to come in.

  She explained that the faithful had been let into the kitchen to warm themselves with cups of tea and that they wouldn’t mind if the audiences were a bit delayed. Julian could tell by the way she avoided his gaze that something was very wrong. There was something palpable in the air around her. He knew the feel of her presence. Another presence was in attendance, another Ailís.

  She looked at the state of his boots and knelt down to help him by tying his bootlaces. It was a touchingly tender act he felt. She straightened the tongue of his boots, tied the laces and pulled his pant legs down over the boot tops. Although her chestnut colored hair obscured her face, he felt the seriousness in her. She finished helping him and drew a chair to the side of the bed on which he was sitting. He smiled encouragingly and waited.

  “Julian, I have a confession to make,” she began.

  “Ailís, would you like me to send for Father Fahey? My powers of absolution are rather limited even though I am a saint.” He smiled and she returned his smile, but only half-heartedly.

  “No, there is nothing Father Fahey can do for me I’m afraid. It is a confession I have to make to you only.

  “Do you remember – oh, it seems like quite awhile ago – you came to me and explained how the people of the district needed me? You told me all about the high esteem in which they held me and a lot of other things about the people here abouts. Do you remember? You told me a lot of lovely things – lies mostly – but they came when I was down and needed a kind word.”

  He smiled again and said, “When you and everyone else thought I was crazy – most of all you? Oh, yes, I remember – and no, there were no lies. It was in my truthful phase.”

  “Yes,” she said, “that’s the time. Well I have to confess that I am a coward.”

  “You, Ailís? You must be joking. Never you,” he answered emphatically.

  “Oh yes. While you were telling me that everyone loved me you showed a remarkable amount of courage by telling me that you were fond of me in a special way. I remember it clearly – you took my hands in yours and said that you had come to care for me a great deal.”

  She reached out and captured his bruised hands in hers and looked into his eyes for the first time since she entered the room. Julian luxuriated in the soft warmth of her hands and the delicate fragrance that seemed to emanate from her. When his eyes met hers, he felt an ominous weight and the smile died on his lips.

  “I should have told you then. Oh, there have been plenty of other times that you’ve expressed the same feelings for me and never once did I give you the answer I should have.

  “Julian, you are a dear man in so many ways.”

  He suddenly felt an unreasonable tightness in his stomach and chest. Blood thundered in his ears in time to his racing heart. She was about to say what he least wanted to hear and there was nothing he could do to stop her. He pleaded for some intercession – “Please don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t,” he repeated to himself. And then she did.

  “But there can never be anything for us. I have tried to pretend it was different. I have tried to live a make-believe life, but I can’t – we can’t,” she continued. “I am your doctor and you are my patient and no matter what I may feel, that is the only relationship we can have. You are here only for the short term and then you will return to America. That is a parting I do not want. It is not one I could endure.

  “There is Timothy to think about too. He is very fond of you. He not only likes you, but he admires and trusts you and I won’t let my entanglements break his heart. I am sorry for leading you to believe anything else. It was selfish and cowardly of me. In another time in different circumstances, I feel we might have made something, but it simply won’t work as it is.

  “That doesn’t absolve me. When given the chance to act with courage I was unable to rise to that occasion and say what needed to be said.” Tears brimmed in her eyes while Julian felt every ache and pain return and all of the strength leave his body.

  She let go of his hands and stood. She raised her hand to caress his face. He longed for her touch, for the intimacy, but with his spirit in agony, he turned away.

  “Julian…”

  He didn’t know where he found the voice for it, but he said, “Thank you for telling me, Doctor. I appreciate your being candid with me and I know that this wasn’t easy for you to say.”

  Ailís Dwyer closed her eyes for a moment then turned and left his room slowly.

  Julian sat on the edge of the bed, for how long he did not know. At last, he stood and made his way to the parlor to listlessly receive his visitors whose coats smelled of wet wool, peat smoke and ashes.

  ***

  Timothy had been ushering the waiting guests into the parlor from the kitchen. After several of the villagers had come and gone, Julian called Timothy. “When you bring the last of them in, would you please go find Mr. Maher and ask him to come and see me right away? Tell him I need his help.”

  “Yes sor. Is it something I can help you with?” Timothy asked.

  Julian smiled wearily and answered, “No, Timothy, but it is very kind of you to offer.” He looked into the boy’s face and saw Ailís Dwyer’s eyes and smiled. He glimpsed the curve of her mouth and her broad, clear forehead. Julian ached as he felt his soul auger into his own private purgatory of lonely despair.

  The boy looked at him questioningly and Julian realized he was staring at the boy and smiling a sad smile. Timothy, with luck, would never need to understand.

  ***

  Julian leaned heavily on Sean as the big man assisted his friend to the police station.

  “Are you sure this is alright with the doctor? You’re weak as a pint of that filthy Mulherin’s watered beer.”

  Julian winced as he walked, which Sean took for a smile, but otherwise Julian did not answer.

  The big Irishman poured Julian into bed, then lit a fire in the fireplace. When he returned Julian was asleep. Sean covered his friend with a blanket and left feeling in his bones that something was very wrong.

  ***

  Jimmy Grogan came by in the evening and found Julian in a rocking chair with a blanket around his shoulders in front of a guttering fire. Jimmy stoked the fire and cut some peat into manageable sizes. Julian sat in a lethargic silence staring vacantly. Jimmy also went away knowing something fundamental in the universe had changed and not for the better.

  ***

  Moira Hagan entered the police station without knocking and found Julian sitting on the bench just inches from the fireplace. His face was flushed with the heat from the fire, but he felt neither hot nor cold.

  “You are causing concern,” the Hagan said.

  Julian’s expression never wavered as he said in a whisper, “Sorry.”

  Moira’s eyes narrowed. “It has to be altogether obvious if that lummox Maher and the whelp Grogan think there is something ailing you aside from your injuries. That both of them screwed up the courage to come and see me is a testimony to the anxiety you’re causing.”

  In a voice that sounded very far away Julian said, “I suppose we all suffer from our own injuries, no?”

  This was not the Julian she had come to know, the one she had worked with for months, the one she had come to love in her own way. She could sense a little of that Julian but there was something else, a profound aching sadness she knew well.

  She moved forward, took Julian by the arm, and led him to a rocking chair
. She took the chair next to him and asked, “What has happened? Tell me now, what has happened to you? Where are you right now?”

  “Sadly, Moira, I am right here. Although I am always happy being in your company I think I will go lay down now and sleep.”

  “Are you in pain? I’ll go fetch the doctor.”

  “No!” he answered too quickly. “I mean no. I’m fine and don’t need a doctor.”

  Moira Hagan knew in a moment what she should have known at first glance. “I’ll leave you,” she said. This she did and marched at the double to the surgery of Dr. Ailís Dwyer.

  ***

  “What have you done?” Moira Hagan spat at the doctor

  “What are you doing here? I’m with a patient. You can wait outside,” Ailís answered with heat in her voice.

  “You,” Moira pointed a boney finger at the patient and barked, “You’re cured; now get out!”

  Edmond Brady was seated on the examination table with his shirt off when the thought struck him that it would be a very good idea to go along with the witch’s advice and take himself elsewhere. He was suddenly feeling ever so much better and almost anyplace had to be healthier than this place right now. He snatched up his shirt and was gone before the doctor could protest.

  Moira Hagan let the door slam behind Brady and the two women were alone in the examination room; a room that was about to become a lot less clinical, sterile and professional than it had been a moment ago.

  The women stared at each other for a long time before Ailís Dwyer looked away and said with misery in her voice, “What do you want?”

  “I want to know what has happened. I am not going to leave here until I know everything that went on between you two. More is riding on this than you could ever know – for him, for me, for you, for all of us,” the Hagan said with force.