by Wendy Webb
“So, it was your grandfather they were talking about in the article, right? He was the Nathan Davidson who died here in 1952?”
I thought for a minute before adding, “And your dad took over when he died. But that doesn’t make any sense either because you told me he was the doctor at the sanatorium, but it closed right around that time. There were no patients for him to be the doctor to.”
He just sat there, next to two unconscious bodies, smiling at me. As though I were asking him about the weather. “I guess I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” he said, finally.
“What I’m getting at is, I’m confused,” I said. “Can you please explain to me how the doctor who died in 1952 at Cliffside Sanatorium could have possibly been your dad, when you look to be no older than forty?”
Nate rose from where he was sitting, crossed the room toward me, and took my hands in his. “Norrie,” he said, his voice soft and soothing. “Can we please drop this subject? Whatever you’re thinking, please let it go.”
I didn’t get it. What was he saying to me, exactly?
“So you don’t have an explanation for that?” I said, a bit louder than I intended. “I mean, I could just chalk it up to a misunderstanding, but we’ve got two people lying near death, here. And your story doesn’t add up. You told me one thing, but it’s clearly not true. And now that I think about it, nobody knows what you were doing when these two poor women were nearly frightened to death. If this was a police investigation that I was covering, you’d be a ‘person of interest’ right now.”
He sighed. “Then I guess we can be very glad the police aren’t here.”
Something changed in the room between us. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was. I was looking into the face of a man I had become very fond of, but all at once I realized I didn’t know him at all, not really.
My mind raced in several directions.
Could it be? Was he the monster who did this? Did he nearly frighten these poor women to death, paint their faces, and pose them like toy dolls? Now that I thought about it, he had access to drugs—he might have drugged them into the state they were in. He was so nice, so affable, it didn’t seem possible, but, I thought, so was Ted Bundy. At this thought, a sense of dread engulfed me, and I tried to pull away, but he squeezed my hands tighter.
“It’s you,” I said to him, my voice a whisper. “Why are you doing this? What have any of us done to you? Am I going to end up like them now?”
Tears stung at the back of my eyes and began to fall. He raised a hand and wiped a tear off my cheek, and I took that moment to break free of him and run to the other side of the room.
“I’m going to start screaming if you don’t let me out of here,” I hissed at him, but I wasn’t sure I could make the sound. And conveniently, he had sent everyone down the hall to Henry’s room. I doubted they’d hear me even if I was able to scream. My legs began shaking so violently that I thought I might fall. I steadied myself on the back of a chair.
He put his hands up, his palms facing me. “No, you’re wrong,” he said. “I can see you’re terrified, Norrie, and my God I can’t stand to have you looking at me like that. It’s not me. I promise you that, Norrie. I swear on my mother’s grave. I am not the monster who did this.”
I wasn’t buying it. “Well, who are you then? Because you sure as hell aren’t who you said you are.”
He looked into my eyes with an intensity I’d never felt from him before. “Yes, I am. Eleanor, I am Nathan Davidson. I’ll swear that on my mother’s grave, too.”
I shook my head. “How? How is that even remotely possible? Tell me.”
He let out a long sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve handled this very badly, I see that now.”
“Handled what?”
“I’m just going to be straight with you,” he said, crossing the room toward me and sinking down into the armchair. “I shouldn’t have told you that stupid story about my dad, but I didn’t see any other way. And now you’ve caught me in that lie and don’t trust me. I’ve made a mess of this thing, and I can’t think of a way to untangle it other than to just tell you the truth.”
“Which is?”
He took a deep breath. “I am Doctor Nathan Davidson, Norrie,” he said, holding my gaze with those clear, blue eyes. “The only Doctor Nathan Davidson. My dad’s name was James. And he wasn’t a doctor. He ran a general store.”
I squinted at him. “I don’t follow you. Nathan Davidson died in 1952. I have the article open on my computer right now if you want to see it.”
He shrugged and smiled a weak smile. “I don’t have to see it. You’re right.”
“But . . .” I started, but all at once, what he was saying to me sunk in. I remembered the photo that had run with the article. It wasn’t just a great likeness of Nate. It was Nate. My legs couldn’t hold me any longer, and I slumped to the floor and put my head into my hands, hoping that when I looked up again, he would be gone.
He slipped down from the chair and joined me, taking my hands into his and looking deeply into my eyes. “Now you see why I told you the story about my dad being the doctor here,” he said. “I couldn’t exactly tell you the truth. It was the only way to explain my presence.”
“You’re telling me that you’re the Doctor Nathan Davidson who died here in 1952?” I whispered. “You’re . . . dead?”
“It sounds sort of dramatic when you say it like that,” he said, smiling.
“But that can’t be,” I said, searching his eyes for any other explanation.
“It’s really not a big deal,” he said. “We’re around you every day and you don’t know it. You would not believe the amount of dead people you encounter on the street or on the bus every single day. Don’t even get me started about the subway.”
Diana had said the same thing to me days before, and I shuddered at the thought of it. “But,” I started and reached out to touch his arm, then his chest, then his face. He felt so . . . solid.
He chuckled at this. “What, you thought you’d put your hand right through me or something?”
I squinted at him. “Well . . . yes. I don’t get it. Are you messing with me? I’ve seen you eat. You drank a beer! Several beers if memory serves. Dead people don’t do that.”
“Who says?”
“Charles Dickens, for one.”
He smiled. “Oh, come on. The Ghost of Christmas Present was a glutton.”
I shook my head, still not quite believing what he was saying to me.
“You don’t have to believe me, and that’s okay, but you did see the photo that ran with the article about my demise, right?”
“But, that’s crazy,” I said, shaking my head.
“I see you’re a girl who needs proof,” he said, and then he slowly faded from view until he was gone. He reappeared a moment later on the other side of the room. “It’s one of the perks of the condition,” he said.
I just sat there, dazed by what I had just seen with my own two eyes.
“Don’t think too much about this,” he said. “I’m still the same guy you’ve known for the past two weeks.”
He helped me to my feet and sat me down in the chair. He crossed the room and poured a glass of water and handed it to me.
“Drink this,” he said. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Miss Harper.”
I brought the glass to my lips with shaking hands and took a sip. “That’s not funny.”
“Oh, I think it was,” he said, grinning. “And I can’t believe you thought I was the bad guy. Don’t you know me better than that by now?”
I eyed him over the rim of my glass. “Apparently not.”
He kneeled down next to me so we were face to face. “So, now you know. Are you afraid of me?”
I thought of our fun banter back and forth, his wit, his easy laugh. I gave him a weak grin. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you go to the light or something?”
“Meh.” He shrugged. “Heaven is overrated.”
This did produce a chuckle. “I can imagine eternal paradise gets boring,” I said, my hands still shaking.
He smiled and tucked a tendril of hair behind my ear. “Thank God I didn’t lose you,” he said. “When you first brought this up and I knew I had to be straight with you, I thought you were going to run screaming out of here.”
“There’s still time.”
“Seriously, Norrie, you weren’t afraid of me ten minutes ago. You don’t have to be afraid now. I’m the same guy I was then.”
I eyed him, my heart still pounding in my chest.
“What happened to you? The article said you were forty-two when you, you know. Died.”
He sighed. “It’s a long story that I’ll tell you another time.”
“But it was 1952. The same year Temperance died. The same year the sanatorium closed. The same year Cassandra’s grandfather died here, the same year Brynn’s grandmother wrote that journal here. The same year Henry was conceived here.”
He nodded. “Right on all counts.”
“So, what’s going on? Why are we all here together? Why are we being terrorized like this? What was the mystery Miss Penny wanted me to solve about our shared connections here?”
“I think I know, but I can’t tell you right now.”
“Why not? Let’s just end this once and for all. Tell me what you know. At least then we’ll all know what we’re up against.”
He shook his head. “You freaked out at my ‘big news.’ Hearing what I suspect is going on will definitely put you in bed with Cassandra and Brynn.”
I shivered. “That bad?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Trust me on that.”
And then, something occurred to me. “You’re not alone here, are you?” I asked. “You’re not the only, um, dead guy at Cliffside.”
He shook his head. “I told you the last time we talked that this is a very strange and mysterious place,” he said. “Things happen here that don’t happen anywhere else. Me still being here, for example. We’re tied here, every one of us who died on this property.”
I grimaced and sank farther back into the chair. “So that explains everything I’ve been hearing and seeing since I got here.”
“Yeah,” he said. “The kids are the worst.”
I thought of the dark images on the photos Richard took of me. “So, Miss Penny is still here, too? And Chamomile?”
He nodded. “And many others.”
I took a quick breath in. “We’ve got to get everybody out of this freak show,” I said, casting a glance toward the window. “I wish we could leave right now.”
“So do I,” he said. “But venturing out into the woods at night isn’t wise, and not just because of the animals. If you do that, we could well have five more dead people tied here to Cliffside.”
I tried again to get him to tell me what he knew. “Who did this to Brynn and Cassandra, and why?”
“Like I said, trust me on this,” he said. He took a deep breath and continued. “It’s the reason I’m here, and the reason that I sought you out on the veranda that night. When Miss Penny died, I suspected that something was put into motion, and now I’m sure of it. Something very dark and very twisted is going on in this house. More dark and twisted than even legions of naughty ghosts trying to scare you by making things go bump in the night and knocking on doors—I’ll speak to those little brats, by the way.”
So I hadn’t been imagining it.
“What you’re saying is scaring me,” I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. “It sounds like you’re telling me there really is such a thing as supernatural evil. Like, demons or the devil. Is that what you’re saying?”
He put his hands on my arms and squeezed. “Yes. And before the night is through, I’m afraid we’re going to come face to face with it. But I’ll promise you something. You—Eleanor Harper—will get out of this alive and unscathed. I am in this house now, and I’m not going anywhere. There’s nothing in heaven or, more precisely, hell that will harm you while I am here. I would lay down my life to protect you.” His eyes twinkled. “Of course, that’s sort of an empty statement, considering.”
I managed a smile. “The thought’s nice, anyway.”
“And now, I think it’s time to take you back to the others,” he said. “They’ll be wondering. I’d advise you to not tell them any of this.”
“I don’t know what I’d say,” I said, pushing myself out of my chair. “‘Hey, everyone. Just FYI, the doctor is a ghost and there’s a demon on the property. Sleep tight!’”
He laughed, and I stepped closer to him. “There’s just one more thing,” I said, wrapping my arms around him. “Thank you.”
We looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, and before I thought about what I was doing, I planted a kiss on his mouth. He pulled away.
“What are you doing, Miss Harper?” he asked, his voice husky.
“I wanted to know what it felt like to kiss a ghost.”
He smiled a broad smile, our faces still close. “If you want to do further research on that, I’ll be happy to oblige.” He raised his eyebrows. “I can make the earth move for you. Literally.”
“Every man says that.” I smiled at him.
“Dammit,” he said. “You just saw through my best line.”
He drew me closer.
“As long as we’re being honest, I’m going to admit something else,” he said, his voice low. “I wish I could really be with you, Eleanor. I fell hard for you the first time I met you, that night out on the veranda. And even before that, when you first came to Cliffside. I watched you arrive. I’ve been watching you this whole time.”
“Not in the bath, I hope.” I smiled.
“I may be dead, but I’m still a gentleman,” he said. “Seriously, though, I’ve had to remind myself over and over again that you are among the living and I’m not. I can’t believe I finally found the woman of my dreams and I can’t even try to win your heart. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
But he had won it, at least a piece of it. I truly didn’t know who I’d choose if it came down to it, but now I didn’t have to make that decision. I turned my face up to his and felt his lips on mine, an ethereal, soft touch that quickly grew in intensity into something I wouldn’t be strong enough to deny, despite what I felt for Richard. My legs started to tremble for the second time that night.
“I told you I’d make the earth move,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “But you’ve got a guy down the hall who is just as crazy about you as I am. And he’s alive, that lucky bastard.”
Just then, as if the mention had summoned him, Richard opened the door. He stared at us for a moment as I drew back from Nate.
“I was just coming to check on you,” he said. “I can see there was no need.” With that, he turned and left the room, his anger lingering in the air.
“Go after him,” Nate said. “You can make this right, and if you can’t, I’ll tell him the truth myself.”
I stared into Nate’s eyes for a long moment before hurrying out of the room and down the hallway, catching Richard just before Henry’s door.
“That wasn’t what it looked like,” I said.
“It seemed pretty clear to me,” he said, his eyes flashing with anger. “When I asked you, Eleanor, if there was anyone else on the horizon, I thought you might have a guy in your life. Why wouldn’t you? You’re bloody amazing. But I had no idea he was right here on the property.”
I took his hands. “Nate and I aren’t involved,” I said. “I really like him. We’re friends. I’ll admit there was a little flirtation between us, but that’s all it is. It would never work between us, I promise you.”
He squinted at me. “Does he know that? Because I saw how he felt about you the first second I met him. I won’t be part of a triangle. I don’t do that, Norrie.”
“He knows, believe me,” I said. “There is no triangle.” But as I said the words, I realized there had been, in my mind, anyway, before I knew the truth. Early on
, I had been conflicted about which man to choose. I liked both of them. But all at once, I knew it had been Richard all along. What had I been doing flirting with both of them? Kissing Nate just now? It was so unlike me. I could’ve messed up the best thing to have walked into my life in a long time.
He pressed on. “I don’t just date around. When I fancy someone—” He stopped mid-sentence and looked away.
A wave of relief washed through me. Maybe I hadn’t messed it up after all. “Do you fancy me, Richard?”
His whole face softened, and he exhaled. “It’s really not the best time to blurt that out, but I thought it was completely obvious. I think I could fall in love with you, Eleanor.”
We just stood there for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes. “I feel the same way about you,” I whispered. “But you’re right, it’s not the best time. When all of this is over, when we’re out of here and safe, let’s have this conversation again.”
He stroked my cheek. “You can count on it.”
CHAPTER 33
Henry’s room was warm and cheery. He had fires lit in both the main room and his study, and several candles flickered here and there.
“What were you talking about with the good doctor?” Henry said.
If he only knew. “I just wanted to hear his prognosis about Cassandra and Brynn.” I felt bad lying to him, to all of them, but the truth just wasn’t possible.
“And?” Diana piped up.
Now I had to outright make something up. “He thinks it was likely caused by fear or trauma, and he wants to get them to the hospital in the morning,” I said. “He also reiterated that we all need to leave as well.” I looked around the room at these people who I had only met recently but who had come to feel like family. “I’m so sorry that your time here at Cliffside has turned into such a nightmare,” I said. “But we’re all going to get out of here. We’re going to be okay.”
“Hear, hear,” Henry said, lifting his glass of brandy in salute. “This hasn’t exactly been the time of quiet reflection and creativity that I had expected, but I will say it is a time I’ll never forget.”
