by Amy Cross
Albert stares deep into my eyes, with a frightening intensity that makes me feel as if he is close to breaking down completely. "He says..." There's another pause for a moment. "He says you're a pretty thing," he continues. "He says you're the most beautiful girl he has ever seen, and he says..."
I wait for him to continue. "Tell me, Albert," I say, squeezing his hand a little, in an attempt to give him comfort.
"He says I must... take a knife, and hold it to your throat, and then turn you around and..." He takes a deep breath. "He wants me to perform a terrible act, Ms. Paternoster, such as would inflict permanent damage, both emotional and physical, upon your person. But first, he wants me to..." He closes his eyes, as if the words are too painful to speak; finally he opens his eyes again and stares at me. "He wants me to touch you," he continues, before reaching up and touching the top of my dress. "He wants me to take this away and touch your body."
I look down at his fingers as they touch the fabric. "Why?" I ask.
"He says I have to do horrible things to you. Horrible naked things."
Taking a deep breath, I try to work out what to do. "Like what?" I say eventually. When he doesn't immediately answer, I decide to take matters into my own hands. Slowly, I slip the dress off my shoulders and lower it to expose my under-garments. When this elicits no particular response from Albert, I slowly lower the last of my clothes and bare my breasts, beneath which my heart is racing. "What does he say now?" I ask softly, as Albert's hands hover a few inches from my skin. "What does he want you to do?"
Albert pauses, as if he's listening to something. "He wants me to kiss them," he says, his voice reduced almost to a whimper.
"You can do that," I say, smiling. "Go on. It's allowed."
He stares at me, as if he can barely believe what I'm telling him.
"Do it," I say.
Slowly, as if he expects me to push him away at any moment, Albert leans in and gently plants a delicate kiss on my left breast, just above the nipple. When he sees that this is allowed, he kisses me again, this time directly on the nipple. Finally, he kisses me for a third time, and now he lets his lips linger on the flesh.
"What does he have to say now?" I ask, keeping my voice low. "So far, everything you've done is okay." I glance over my shoulder, to make sure that no-one can see us.
He pauses, sweat pouring from his brow. "He wants me to suckle on you," he whispers, "and to touch you."
"Go ahead," I tell him.
Taking another deep breath, Albert leans in and takes my left nipple in his mouth, gently sucking while his hand fondles my right breast. I close my eyes, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. All I want, at this moment in time, is to break through the barriers that exist in Albert's mind. It helps, of course, that my feelings for him have grown stronger with each passing day. It is true that he is a large, fat man, and it is true that he is weak and troubled. But despite all of this, and despite everything that has happened, I feel an unusual kind of happiness in my heart whenever I see him, and whenever I think of him. Perhaps I am getting a little over-excited, but I have started to wonder if I might be falling in love with him. Surely there can be no other explanation for my feelings.
"Albert," I say softly as he continues to suck my nipple. "Look at me." I wait for a moment, but he doesn't react. "Albert, look at me, please," I say.
Letting the nipple slip from his mouth, Albert looks up at me.
"What does he say now?" I ask. "The voice in your head... What does he say?"
Albert stares at me for a moment. "Nothing," he says eventually. "He has fallen silent."
"Then perhaps we are alone," I reply, unable to stifle a smile. "Perhaps," I continue, "this moment of tenderness has scared him away. Do you think it could be so? Is he gone?" I pause. "If we truly are alone, Albert, there is something I would like to say. Do you think it might be acceptable for me to speak my mind?"
"Please," he replies. "I would have it no other way."
"It might be inappropriate for me to say such a thing," I tell him, "but I believe we have passed the point where such considerations are of any great importance. The truth, Mr. Caster, is that I have felt an unusual attraction to you since the very first moment we met, and this attraction has only grown during the intervening period. Although I understand that you are in a difficult position at the present moment, I must say that I would be very keen for you to consider taking me as your wife, if such an act should be one that you would consider." I look down and watch as his hand caresses my left breast. "I would very much like to carry your child," I continue, "and to spend my life in your company."
Once my little speech is over, there is an awkward pause. I cannot help but wonder whether I have spoken too soon, and I start to feel horribly exposed as I sit topless in front of Mr. Caster. Eventually, overcome by a sudden feeling of shame, I start to pull my dress up. Getting to my feet, I hurry over to the door, feeling as if my embarrassment is causing my face to turn entirely red. I pick up the tray of untouched soup and walk quickly to the door.
"I shall be back later, to bring your dinner," I say, before stepping quickly out into the yard. Taking a deep breath, I try to work out how I could have been so foolish as to let Albert touch me in such an inappropriate manner. I should never have said such inopportune things to the poor man. Resolving to be stronger in future, I carry the tray into the hotel's kitchen, where I try to regather my composure. I have quite clearly made an utter fool of myself, not only by allowing a man to touch my bare chest, but also by expressing my deepest feelings to someone who is likely incapable of ever taking a wife. If Mr. Caster ever recovers fully, I shall perhaps have to deal with this shame by leaving Devil's Briar forever, and starting a new life in a place where no-one knows of my idiocy.
Chapter Seven
Today
"Anything?" Dr. Cole asks, focusing on the various machines. After a moment, he glances over. "Is she responding at all?"
I shake my head. It's been several minutes since Victoria seemed to turn and look at me, but nothing else seems to be happening. Stepping to one side, I watch as her milky white eyes slowly follow me across the room, which means it's pretty damn certain that she's deliberately looking at me. I feel pretty freaked out by the thought that this old woman, who has been in a coma for so long, has suddenly taken an interest in me. Finally, I walk all the way around to the other side of the bed and watch as Victoria slowly turns her head so that she can still see me; as her bones move, there's a clicking, grinding sound, which I guess is caused by the fact that she hasn't moved for more than seventy years.
"There's definitely some new activity in her frontal lobe," Dr. Cole says excitedly, frantically studying the screens and readouts. "It's as if she's waking up."
After a moment, Victoria's mouth starts to open. Her lips are stuck together by a thick white film of gum that slowly breaks as her jaw moves, but the effort seems to be too much for her. She continues to stare straight at me, but she doesn't say anything.
"Try talking to her," Ed says.
"Are you kidding?" I ask, turning to him.
"Do it," Dr. Cole says. "Use her name. Try to remind her who she is."
I take a deep breath, before stepping a little closer to the bed and smiling nervously at the old woman. "Hello Victoria," I say. "My name is Paula Mitchell. I've just returned from Devil's Briar. The year is 2013, and you're at a medical facility in Boston, in Massachusetts." I pause, trying to work out what to say next. "You're perfectly safe," I continue. "The people here are taking good care of you."
"The brain activity is fading," Dr. Cole says. "Say her name again. Keep going."
"Your name is Victoria Paternoster," I say firmly, watching as her mouth slowly closes. "You were found near the town of Florence, in Colorado. We think you'd been to Devil's Briar, possibly with your uncle Thomas Paternoster. We're -"
"She's shutting down again," Dr. Cole says, adjusting a number of dials. "She's going back to how she used to be."
"Victoria," I continue, "can you hear me?"
Slowly, Victoria closes her eyes, and finally it seems as if she has gone back to sleep. Dr. Cole continues to frantically adjust the dials and settings on his equipment, but it all seems to be in vain. Whatever caused Victoria to briefly stir, the moment is over and she seems to have returned to her former state.
"I don't get it," Dr. Cole continues, coming over to the bed and looking down at Victoria. "In more than half a century, she's never responded in any way to a visitor." He looks at me. "And then you walk in, and everything changes."
"It's just a coincidence," I say. "I mean, coincidences happen. It's weird, but it's not beyond the bounds of possibility. Anyway, you said that she opens her eyes occasionally."
"But she never actually looked at anyone before," he says. "It's like she knew you were here. We've never even had any kind of indication that she's aware of other people."
"Paula was recently in Devil's Briar," Ed points out. "She was there for about four days, and then she came back three days ago. Is there any way Victoria could have picked up on some kind of sensory stimulation?"
"It's possible," Dr. Cole says. "Don't take this the wrong way, Paula, but have you bathed since you got back from Devil's Briar?"
"Of course," I reply, a little offended by the question. "Several times."
"And you've changed all your clothes?"
"Yeah," I say. "I mean, except my shoes."
"Can I see them?"
Sighing, I reach down and take off my shoes, before handing them across the bed to Dr. Cole. He examines the soles for a moment.
"You think it's something on the sole?" Ed asks. "Maybe some soil residue?"
"Right now, it's the only possible explanation," Dr. Cole says. "Maybe Victoria is so sensitive to Devil's Briar, she was stimulated by an odor. Paula, do you mind if I keep these? I'll arrange for someone to bring you some replacements, and of course you'll be compensated for your trouble."
I shrug, figuring he might as well keep himself busy. Although it was truly strange when Victoria Paternoster turned her head and looked at me, I'm quite certain it was just a random, freak event. Unusual and unlikely things do happen from time to time, and it's perfectly possible that she just happened to look at me for some totally random and banal reason that means absolutely nothing.
"It rained yesterday," I say suddenly, turning to Ed. "Remember? It poured all evening, and it was still wet when we left the bar."
Ed stares at me. "So?"
"So my shoes got wet," I point out. "Any soil or other sediments from Devil's Briar would have been washed away."
"I'd still like to test them," Dr. Cole says. "Something about you attracted her attention, Paula, and I need to get to the bottom of it. Victoria Paternoster has been observed, almost continually, for eighty-seven years, and in that time she has never, ever reacted in such a direct manner. I refuse to believe that it was simply a fluke. For some reason, out of all the hundreds of people who've been in this room, you're the only one who elicited any kind of response whatsoever."
"And you're the only one who's been to Devil's Briar," Ed says.
"We need to repeat this experiment," Dr. Cole says. "Paula, are you available to come in for a few days during the week? I need to hook you up to a -"
"I won't be in Massachusetts," I say firmly, determined to put an end to all this talk. "I'm sorry, but I'll be in California."
"I'll pay you," Dr. Cole continues. "Money's no object. I'll put you up in a hotel, and -"
"No," I say. "I'm sorry, but there's no way I'm staying. I'm going to California in a couple of days, and I'm staying there." I look at Victoria's face. I can't even begin to imagine what she's been through in her life, and why she seemed to react so strongly to my presence, but the last thing I want to do is prolong this agony for either of us. "This isn't anything to do with me," I continue, turning and walking to the door. "I have to go," I add, before glancing back at Ed. "Thank you for bringing me here, and I look forward to reading your reports about Devil's Briar, but my direct involvement in all of this is over. I'd really appreciate it if you'd just accept that and let me move on with my life. When you see Bill, tell him I hope it all works out." With that, I step out into the corridor and pull the door closed, and finally I look down at my hands and see that I'm trembling.
Deciding I have to get out of here before Ed comes out and tries to change my mind, I hurry along the corridor. Within a few minutes, I'm back out in the parking lot, at which point I go to my car and quickly drive away. Whatever happened just now, I don't want a repeat. It's quite clear that there are some strange things happening in Devil's Briar, but I'm starting to think that they're a little too strange for me. I just want a nice, quiet new life in California, and right now I feel like I never want to hear the name Devil's Briar again.
Chapter Eight
1925
"And what did Mrs. Pressman say when you went to visit her?" my uncle asks as we sit eating dinner in the hotel's saloon bar.
"Mrs. Pressman?" I reply, momentarily unable to work out what he means. "I'm not sure I know a Mrs. Pressman."
"The lady who runs the school," he says, with a hint of a suspicion in his eyes. "I was under the impression that you had been to visit her today, to ask about a position she had vacant?"
"Yes," I say, remembering the story that Mr. Porter came up with. "Unfortunately, she was unavailable to discuss the matter with me, but I shall be returning tomorrow at a more convenient time." I pause for a moment, trying to discern whether or not my uncle is accepting the lie. "I believe I have a very good chance to gain employment under Mrs. Pressman's stewardship. I know school-teaching is not something for which I have any experience, but I would dearly love to work with children." There's an uncomfortable silence, and I realize my uncle is deeply suspicious. "Do you not think I would be a good school-teacher?" I ask eventually.
"Perhaps," he says. "I should like to know the details of any employment you undertake. I shall make it a point to speak to Mrs. Pressman in the next few days, and find out exactly what kind of arrangement might be reached. I would not like this to be another flash in the pan, Victoria. Your first two jobs in Devil's Briar have ended rather swiftly and rather ignominiously."
I smile politely. I feel sick to my stomach, and the last thing I want to do is sit here and make polite conversation while I have to eat Mr. Porter's rather sickly meal. There is also the matter of my indiscretion with Mr. Caster; I feel that I allowed myself to get carried away, and I rather exposed myself to ridicule. I cannot possibly continue to work with Mr. Caster, yet I also feel I cannot pass the responsibility on to anyone else.
"Are you okay, Victoria?" my uncle continues. "Is there something on your mind?"
I take a deep breath. "I was just thinking about Mr. Haynes and his dog," I say after a moment. "Do you happen to know if he... Did he go through with his plan to shoot the poor animal?"
"He did," my uncle says. "A shame, but it was for the best. He can always get a new dog."
I nod. Although I do not want to make the admission, I cannot help but feel that it is better to end misery than to prolong it. How that equates to Mr. Caster, though, I am not sure, but I am absolutely certain that I cannot 'end' his suffering. I feel as if I am in an intolerable position, and there is no way out other than... I do not want to acknowledge my own thoughts, but I must: I cannot help but think that I might be better off if I simply packed up and left Devil's Briar. It would mean leaving my uncle as well, but he would undoubtedly be better off if he did not have to contend with the problems I cause. It would be relatively easy for me to leave during the night, and head to one of the nearby towns; from there, I could seek employment in the household of a family.
"Well here's a surprise," my uncle says suddenly, and I hear the door to the saloon open. Turning, I see to my shock that the man who has entered is none other than Mr. Caster. Dressed in his finest clothes, and walking with his cane, he has a broad smile
on his face as he approaches our table.
"Good evening," he says. "I hope I'm not disturbing either of you, but Mr. Porter said I might find you at dinner, and I was worried that I would miss you." After a brief glance at me, he turns to my uncle. "Mr. Paternoster, there is a rather delicate matter that I would very much like to discuss with you, if that would be okay? Perhaps after you have finished eating?"
"I think we can talk now," my uncle replies, looking over at me. "Victoria is rather disinterested in her meal. Perhaps, my dear, you would prefer to retire to your room?"
Shocked at Mr. Caster's sudden recovery, and embarrassed by the thoughts of our little indiscretion earlier, I rise from my seat and hurry from the room. I immediately come across Mr. Porter, who is reading a newspaper at the reception desk.
"Well you've certainly done a grand job," he says, smiling. "I've never seen the old fool look so healthy."
"It's quite a miracle," I reply, my heart racing.
"What's wrong?" Mr. Porter continues. "You look a little distressed."
"I'm fine," I say. "It's just... I was starting to wonder if Mr. Caster would ever fully regain his former strengths, but he seems to have..." I pause, realizing that words fail to express the sense of shock that I feel. It is truly a miracle that he has recovered in this way, and I cannot help but wonder if God has finally turned to cast his eye over Devil's Briar.
"He's more than recovered," Mr. Porter says. "I'd say he looks better than ever, and there's a real glint in his eye. He's happy about something."
"Perhaps he wants his old position back," I say, suddenly worrying about the possibility of a conflict between Mr. Caster and my uncle.
"That's what I asked him," Mr. Porter says, "but he denied it. He said he wants to experience the finer pleasures of life. Whatever that means." He glances down at his paperwork for a moment. "It seems to be a day for miracles all round," he continues. "Would you believe that another guest has arrived at the hotel?"
