by Amy Cross
"Of course he'll notice," Ed replies. "He loves you."
"Thanks for reminding me," I reply, wincing.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad, but it's true. The guy's crazy about you, Paula."
"It's not enough," I say firmly. "Whatever he and I had, it's gone." I pause, but it's clear that Ed doesn't really understand my decision. "I don't trust him," I continue. "Besides, there's a side of him you've never seen Ed. He's got some funny ideas about women, especially since the accident. He's got some very old-fashioned views. I kinda feel like something changed in his head." I take a deep breath, determined to avoid becoming emotional. "I've been looking for a way out of the marriage for a long time, and this feels like the perfect opportunity. It's clean and it's logical. It's the best thing for both of us." I take a deep breath. "Don't try to talk me out of it. I've made up my mind. I'm going to speak to a divorce lawyer as soon as I get to California."
"California?"
"New life, new state," I reply. "I love Boston, but it's time to move on."
There's silence between us for a moment, punctuated only by the sound of rock music coming from the bar's speakers. I'm quite certain that Ed must have seen this coming to some extent, but it must still be a shock to find out that I'm pulling the trigger.
"So I guess it's up to me to go up there," Ed says eventually. "I mean, we can't just leave Bill in Devil's Briar forever."
"He's got enough food to last a week," I say, "and water shouldn't be a problem. He was worried that if he came back to Boston with me, it'd take months to get a team together. I guess he thinks that this way, someone has to go back up there. Like a kind of blackmail. I mean, you can't leave him to starve."
"You'll need to give me directions," Ed replies. "I can get some equipment together tonight and set off tomorrow. It'll be just me. I'll probably have to take it out of my annual leave, but I don't mind. Maybe you can fill me in on exactly what I should load into the truck."
"Sounds good," I say. "Everything you need to know is in the files I gave you." I pause for a moment. "The biggest thing is just to prepare yourself mentally. Devil's Briar is really fucking weird, Ed. It's like this whole town that's completely empty. I swear, there's a strange vibe. It almost makes you believe in -" I stop myself right there, determined not to start talking about vague, abstract things.
"Believe in what?" Ed asks.
"Just go and see for yourself," I reply.
"What's your gut feeling?" he says. "If you had to guess what happened up there, and where all the people went, what would you say?"
"I have no idea," I reply. "It's the weirdest situation I've ever encountered. I mean, I totally understand why Bill is so interested in getting to the bottom of it. He's always been keen to find a project that'll really make his name, and I think that's what he's got on his hands right now. When news gets out about this place, it's going to create a media storm. Perfectly-preserved ghost towns don't just pop up every day." I reach into my pocket and pull out my camera, switching it on and pulling up a photo I took the other day in Devil's Briar. "That's the town square," I say, passing the camera to Ed. "What do you think?"
"What the hell is that thing in the middle?" he asks.
"A giant cross," I continue. "It's twenty, maybe thirty feet high. God knows how it got there, who built it, how they built it... Trust me, it dominates the place."
We spend the rest of the evening sitting around, drinking beer and talking about Ed's plans to go and help Bill. It seems that Ed is really getting enthusiastic about the Devil's Briar mystery, which is perfect. Bill needs to have someone there to help him out, and it's good to think that Ed can take the pressure off my shoulders. Hopefully, Bill and Ed will be so busy up there, exploring the town, that Bill will barely even think about me until I'm long gone.
"Come on," Ed says a few hours later, as the clock ticks around to midnight and the bar staff start closing up. "Time to get out of here."
We emerge into the cold, windy night. The rain that poured down earlier this evening has died away, but the streets are still soaking wet. I'd only intended to have a couple of drinks, but the evening has worn on and now Ed and I are both a little drunk. Still, it feels good to be back in civilization rather than kicking about in the dirt of Devil's Briar. It also feels good to have finally told Ed about what's been happening, because it means Bill is no longer my responsibility. Ed's the one who has to go up there and help him out, and I can go my own way and get on with my life. This time in a few days, I'll be in California and all this stuff with Bill and Devil's Briar will be just a memory.
"So what are you doing now?" Ed asks as we wander along the street, heading back toward the center of town.
"I thought I might see if I can get a research position on the west coast somewhere," I tell him. "San Francisco, maybe. I've always wanted to live out there."
"Despite the earthquakes?" Ed says with a smile.
"Despite the earthquakes," I reply.
"Cool," he says. "I'm not sure I'd want to live in a place where the ground could just split open at any moment." There's a pause. "Actually, though, I meant tonight. What are you doing now... tonight?"
"Sleeping," I say, thinking about the huge number of things I have to do over the next few days as I prepare to move to California.
"Hey," he says, stopping and putting a hand on my waist. "I never would have done this when you and Bill were together, but -" With that, he leans closer and tries to kiss me. Our lips meet for a moment, but I pull away. He tries again, and this time I take a step back. "Sorry," he continues, "I thought you wanted me to do that."
"I'm still married," I reply, trying not to panic.
"I know," he says, "I just thought... I don't know, I just thought maybe you'd be up for some fun. Nothing serious. I know you're moving away."
For a moment - just a brief moment - I'm tempted to go for it. After all, I'm not with Bill any more, and Ed's a hot guy who's a few years younger than me. A night of pure, physical sex might be just what I need, and I'm leaving for California in a couple of days so there wouldn't even be a risk of things becoming awkward. Nevertheless, there's a part of me that feels like I don't want to just jump into bed with someone so easily.
"We'd just be, like, friends," Ed continues, "with a few benefits."
"That's certainly a flattering offer," I reply, "but..." Damn it, how do I let him down gently? He's attractive, smart and funny, and in other circumstances I'd definitely be all over him. It's just that, right now, it wouldn't feel right.
"Let's just forget it," he says, smiling sadly. "It was a stupid idea. I've drunk too much, I'm not thinking straight." He pauses. "Don't tell anyone, okay? I don't want people laughing at me just 'cause I had this dumb moment."
"Of course I won't tell anyone," I reply, feeling kind of sorry for him. "Don't worry about it. These things happen. It's a total compliment, but it's just not something I want to do right now. You understand, right?"
He nods.
"I'm still married," I remind him again.
"It's totally okay," he says. "I guess it was just a combination of the drink and the fact that you're leaving... Anyway, I should probably get some sleep. I've got a long journey to Devil's Briar ahead of me tomorrow."
"Good night," I say, still feeling like maybe I should just succumb to his advances and go home with him. It takes all my willpower to hold myself back.
"Good night," he replies, before turning and walking away. There's definitely a part of me that wants to go after him. Sure, I'd like to have random, casual sex with a hot younger guy who I've known for a few years, but there's some part of me, deep down, that knows it would be wrong. Until I've actually got a divorce from Bill, I'd feel like I was cheating on him, and there's no way I ever want to be that kind of person. My Dad cheated on my Mom when I was a kid, and I always swore I'd be different. Maybe I'm missing out on a night of uncomplicated fun, but at least I feel good about myself. I guess I'm just a little old-fashio
ned in some respects.
As I walk home, with tears in my eyes, I look up at the stars and find myself wondering what Bill is doing right now. He's probably sitting around in that run-down old hotel, eating meat of out tins, and planning his next day's work. It's kind of comforting to think of him getting on with the kind of thing he loves the most; Bill has always been married to his work, first and foremost, and I'm pretty sure he'll be fine without me. I just hope that, once Ed reaches Devil's Briar, they can work together and start to get the mystery of that place ironed out. It's too big a job for one person, and Bill needs help. As for me, though, I'm out. Screw Devil's Briar; I'm going to California.
Chapter Two
1925
"Victoria!"
Hearing my uncle calling me, I hurry behind the hotel's reception desk and crouch down. I know he's been looking for me all morning, but I have to keep out of sight. If he catches up to me, he'll want to know what I'm doing, and then I'll have to tell him the truth about Albert Caster. I have no doubt that my uncle, while sympathetic to Albert's plight, would be set against the idea that I'm trying to nurse the poor man back to health, and he might even insist that Dr. Collings be put back in charge of the process. For now, at least, I feel I must continue with my work in secret.
"Victoria!" my uncle calls out, as I hear his footsteps coming down the stairs and into the reception area.
"Is everything okay?" Mr. Porter asks, coming through from the saloon. He glances over at the reception desk, and we make eye contact briefly. My heart is racing; I have no idea whether Mr. Porter will help me stay hidden.
"I'm looking for my niece," my uncle says, sounding rather annoyed. "Have you seen her?"
"I believe she went to take a look at the school," Mr. Porter replies with a courteous smile. "From what I understand, she's interested in possibly seeking a position working with the children."
"The school?" My uncle sounds shocked, as if he doesn't believe the claim.
"Mrs. Pressman is always on the lookout for new staff," Mr. Porter continues. "In fact, I was the one who suggested to your niece that perhaps she should consider such a role in our community. I hope I didn't speak out of turn."
"Indeed," my uncle says. "Well, I suppose school-teaching is a worthwhile pursuit, although I fail to understand why she didn't tell me where she was going. She must know that I worry about her safety."
"There's not much danger in Devil's Briar," Mr. Porter replies. "Since Lawrence Evans was killed, the place has been rather peaceful. Everyone knows everyone up here, so it's really rather safe." He pauses. "I think her trip to the school might have been a rather last-minute decision," he continues after a moment. "She asked me to let you know, but I'm afraid the matter quite slipped my mind. If anyone is to blame, it's not Victoria. It's me."
"Well, in that case, I suppose I shall have to wait until she returns for dinner," my uncle replies, sounding a little less annoyed than before. "Hopefully she will at least stay with this position for more than a few days. She's usually a very reliable young woman, but since we arrived in Devil's Briar she has held two positions and kept neither for more than a day."
"Perhaps the school will suit her abilities a little better," Mr. Porter says.
"Perhaps," my uncle replies. "I shall be in my office, attending to business. If Victoria happens to come back early, please ask her to come and see me at once." I hear his footsteps heading to the door, and I wait until I'm absolutely certain that he has left the building.
"You can come out now," Mr. Porter says, turning to me. "He's gone."
"Are you sure?" I whisper, desperate to avoid any possibility of error.
"Quite sure," Mr. Porter says. "At this exact moment, I can see him walking across the town square. You're safe."
"Thank you," I say, standing up. Glancing over at the window, I see a figure entering the mayoral office, and I allow myself to relax a little. "I'm afraid he simply wouldn't understand the urgency of my work with Mr. Caster," I continue. "Please don't get me wrong, my uncle is a wonderful man, but he takes a dim view of those who have fallen on hard times. He also seems to have a great deal of faith in Dr. Collings, and I must say I do not share that faith."
"Collings isn't a good man," Mr. Porter replies. "Albert Caster, for all his failings and shortcomings, is a good man. As for your uncle, I must confess that I do not yet know him sufficiently to pass judgment, but I'm sure you are best placed to decide what he should and should not know. Just ensure that you make contact with Mrs. Pressman at the school at some point today. The last thing I want is for your uncle to believe that I'm a liar."
"I promise," I say, "but first, I must go to Mr. Caster. He is recovering remarkably well, but there is still a long way to go before he is his old self again." I pause for a moment, as it occurs to me that perhaps Mr. Caster would benefit from having an extra visitor. "Mr. Porter," I continue, "if you would like to come and see him, I'm sure -"
"No," he replies, shaking his head. "No, thank you. I have known Albert Caster all my life, and I do not wish to see him when he is not at his best. I'm quite sure he'll be okay for now without having to contend with my presence, as long as he has you to look after him. I'm sure you're doing an admirable job, Ms. Paternoster."
"I hope so," I say, curtsying before I turn and hurry through to the back of the hotel. After double-checking that no-one is following me, I race to the little workshop in the yard, knocking briefly on the door before stepping inside. I find Albert sitting on his chair in the middle of the room, looking rather forlorn. His breakfast remains untouched on the tray I brought earlier, which means he has now gone three full days without eating. I'm starting to worry that, in some way, he has given up on trying to recover, and that his spirit has been broken and can't be mended. He seems content to just sit in this room and slowly waste away.
"Good morning," I say brightly, hoping to stir his mood. "How are you feeling today?" I wait for him to respond, but of course he doesn't even look at me. Every day we go through the same routine, and every day I feel as if things are getting worse. Although I told Mr. Porter that I thought the situation might be getting better, in truth I feel that the opposite is true. Mr. Caster is slipping deeper and deeper into a darkness from which I apparently cannot save him, and I'm fast running out of ideas. I have prayed and prayed for God to give me a sign, or for Him to help Albert in some other way, but it seems absolutely futile. Is it possible that at this moment when we need Him the most, God has turned away? Does God want a monster like Dr. Collings to strike down a good and decent man like Albert Caster and get away with it?
"You look a little better," I say, walking over to Albert and kneeling before him. Looking into his face, though, I see that he looks worse than ever. In fact, he seems to be trembling a little, as if he's concentrating very hard on something. "Is anything wrong, Albert?" I ask, hoping to perhaps make some kind of headway. "If there's something on your mind, I hope you'll feel that you can talk to me about it. I'm absolutely on your side, you know. You're totally safe here. I promise Dr. Collings will never, ever get anywhere near you again."
Still trembling, Albert stares straight ahead, as if he's determined to avoid looking directly at me.
"Perhaps you will be ready to go for a walk tomorrow?" I ask. "Just a little trip outside?" I wait in vain for a response, but of course there is nothing. "There's no hurry," I say finally, keen to ensure that Albert does not feel as if I am pressuring him. My approach so far has been to try drawing him out slowly, rather than forcing him to do things for which he doesn't feel ready. "I must go and see if I can find you some lunch," I tell him, realizing that I must get out of the room before I start crying. "I believe Mr. Porter has made soup today. Would you like some?"
Standing up, I walk over to the table and collect Albert's uneaten breakfast, before stopping and looking back at him. Sometimes I wonder if he's even aware of my presence. He hasn't once looked straight at me since I brought him here, but I find it hard to believe t
hat he would ignore me if he realized that I had come to see him. Poor Albert just seems to be trapped in his own mind, and I cannot find a way to tease him back out into the real world. I wish I could consult with someone to see if there are any other ideas I might try, but the only licensed physician in the whole town is Dr. Collings, and he is nothing more than a monster. I would rather let Albert die than have him fall back under the doctor's control. Realizing that this situation cannot last forever, I leave the workshop and walk back to the hotel's kitchen.
"Not eating?" Mr. Porter asks as I enter.
"He's not hungry," I reply, not wanting to admit that Albert has ignored his food for so many days.
"Doesn't sound like Albert," he says. "That man could eat a cow for lunch and still be hungry at dinnertime."
"People change," I say, though I'm sure Mr. Porter doesn't accept my excuses. He clearly understands that my treatment of Albert is not going well, but he's too polite to discuss the subject directly. Nevertheless, if there is no improvement in the next few days, I shall have to come up with another course of action. I cannot simply perpetuate the misery due to some misguided belief that I can perform a miracle.
"I'm sure he'll come right," Mr. Porter says. "He's a strong man."
"These things take time," I reply.
"Just make sure you look after yourself as well," he continues. "No good'll come of things if you pass out through exhaustion."
I nod. "I shall be in my room for a few hours. I feel the need to rest." Walking to the door, I decide I will try to get a few hours' sleep before coming back down and working with Albert during the afternoon. Not that I expect to sleep, though; rather, I shall probably just rest in bed and try to think of some new approach to take with Albert. I feel as if perhaps I might be on the verge of a breakthrough, although perhaps I am deluding myself yet again.
