Infinite Faith Infinite Series, Book 4)

by L. E. Waters

  “Oh.” He lowers his arms. “You’ve seen that?”

  “Yes. But it will take some time. She is very depressed, you know.”

  He nods. “I just want my wife back.” He looks down the hall to the bathroom. “I don’t even know who this woman is.”

  Dr. Evert places his hands on his shoulders. “She is your wife, and we will do all we can to help her.”

  Mr. Steinthal puts his hat back on and shakes the doctor’s hand. “Thank you,” he mutters, and then shuffles down the steps.

  Dr. Evert takes a deep breath and slips through the gate, looking directly at me as he marches down the hall.

  “I hate to interrupt you. Pride and Prejudice is one of my favorites.”

  I catch all the patients brightening with his beautiful smile.

  I close the book. “Our appointment?”

  He nods and takes a step back for me to get up. The girls wish they could have the distraction of Dr. Evert right now.

  As we walk down the stairs, I say, “Dinner was wonderful last night.”

  He checks back over his shoulder to catch my grateful smile. “It wasn’t so bad?”

  “Bad? It was better than any of us ever imagined. Couldn’t you see what a hero you’ve become to the other patients?”

  “I really wish I had known earlier. Did they serve coffee?”

  “Yes, for breakfast as well. It’s a miracle.”

  He looks again for my smile.

  “I still think I can improve it a bit more.” He holds his office door open for me to go under his arm like a bridge. I soak in the spicy fragrance of the soap he uses. I wish I could take another breath of it.

  The cushion exhales as I plop into it. He sits down and bites his pen. He says between clenched teeth, “I’ve thought of some more questions.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I want to know more about the world you’ve created.”

  “I didn’t create my world. Have you created your world?”

  “Well, I would like to know more about the world you live in.”

  “As if it’s different from the world you live in.” I smile anyway. “What would you like to know?”

  “You mentioned you felt you were the historic figure, Lucrezia Borgia. I looked up some books about her and I wondered if you feel connected to her because you share certain life events.”

  I know where he’s going with this and the presumption still infuriates me. “If you’re speaking about the rumor that she had an incestuous relationship with her father and brother, I assure you that it is all that it was, a rumor.”

  “So you are aware that is her legacy?”

  “I would like to think she has others, but that rumor persisted even when she was alive, unfortunately.”

  “Has your father ever made you feel uncomfortable?”

  “He has never violated me.”

  “Why do you feel connected to her, then?”

  I can’t keep from letting out a frustrated exhale. “I’m connected to her because I was her. Why do you think there is any other reason?”

  “I’m doing my best to understand you, I promise. Please entertain me. If it is something other than actually being these people in the past—”

  “But—”

  He holds up a finger for me to let him finish. “I need to figure it out in order to help you.”

  I sigh. “Fine.”

  “Are you close to everyone from a past life?”

  “Not necessarily. Some I don’t particularly like.”

  “You have enemies from the past?”

  “Sometimes I feel like they’re enemies, but they’re meant to bring about hardships.”

  “Do you feel like harming these people?”

  I fantasize about what I could do to steel-eyes and fish-face, but then I wash the images away. “Not in this life.”

  “You’ve harmed them before?”

  “There have been times where I’ve sought revenge on them.”

  “Have you met them already?”

  “I’ve met the steel-eyed character, but I’m still looking for the fish-faced person to come. I probably won’t meet them until I find the person with the gap in their teeth.”

  “Your soul mate.”

  “Yes, my soul mate.” Those words seem to really bother him. “Do you have a soul mate?”

  “I don’t believe in them.” He leans back in his chair. “That there is only one person waiting out there for everyone?” He scoffs. “Imagine how impractical that would be. What if they lived in another city or another country? How would you be able to find them?”

  “They always find each other somehow.”

  “I hope we have many options.”

  “You haven’t found the one for you yet?”

  He pauses. “Somehow we have drifted off counseling you to my personal life.” He laughs.

  “They don’t wait for you. You are meant to find each other.”

  “Well, then, I’ll just have to look at little harder.” His way of telling me that he’s alone. “Do you think you’ll find your soul mate here?”

  I laugh immediately. “Imagine how hard that will be, given I’m in an all-female ward.”

  He laughs along but jabs, “I thought you said that wouldn’t matter.” He catches me with my own words.

  “And I guess there are plenty of male doctors.”

  He shakes his head. “Doctors are forbidden to have any attachments to their patients.”

  “I was only kidding.”

  “Yes, I see that.” He laughs awkwardly. “Well, look, we have ended it right on time this session.” He wipes pretend sweat off his brow. “I couldn’t stand another beating from the nurses.”

  I pull myself up slowly, truly wishing he let some more time lapse. The rest of my day will be so boring.

  “Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Have you ever been a farmer in a past life?” His smirk throws me off.

  “Are you making fun of me?”

  He breaks into a harmless laugh. “I’m actually serious. Do you have any knowledge of gardening…growing vegetables and cutting flowers?”

  “We’ve always helped my mother with our garden. We grew carrots, onions, celery, parsnips, potatoes, and kitchen herbs.”

  “Perfect. I have an idea to transform that field of mud out back into a productive garden. I managed to get the coffee and meat offered and the overall quality improved, but they just won’t allow for fresh vegetables in the budget.”

  “You’ve done so much already. The patients are very happy with the changes. Even Odelia’s eating.”

  “Only the most highly functioning patients will be able to participate, and I thought of you immediately.”

  “That would be lovely. I would like to suggest a few other patients for the project as well.”

  “Wonderful. Bring a list with you next time and I’ll consider it. I would like you to help run the project with me. I feel you are perfectly equipped.”

  “Thank you very much, Dr. Evert. It would be so nice to get outside.”

  “It will also get us some more time to talk and we won’t worry about running out of time.” A smile warms his face again. “I truly can’t get enough of your stories.”

  I return his smile and try to walk out calmly when I really feel like kicking my feet up into the air. A garden! That I can grow with handsome James—Dr. Evert—at my side. This isn’t such a horrible place after all.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  By the time the nurse walks me back to my floor, there are ten moving men heaving the piano down the hall. The patients on our floor are excited by the huge, dark, glistening addition. Some shout, some shriek, some just wriggle their fingers in anticipation. The men move back tables to the corners of the room to place the piano in the center. The thick blankets are removed and the men stand for a bit, pulling out dingy handkerchiefs to wipe the heavy sweat on their brows and
moustaches. Bathilda doesn’t offer them any water, and they go back through the gates holding the blankets like sleepy toddlers.

  Even though it’s locked, Gitta and Juliane sit on the velvet bench seat, pretending to play. Juliane sings an old German song and Verena splays herself over the body of the piano indecently, as if she is an American film actress. “What a perfect place for a man to take me.” Everyone seems used to her indiscreet thoughts.

  Odelia has calmed down from her morning disruption and runs a delicate hand up and down the lip of the piano. “This is a fine piano,” she says. “I hope it’s in tune.”

  Elfi is the only one who stays away from it. “I bet it’s a trick. Like the Trojan horse. They’ve hidden something dangerous inside and it will crawl out when we’re asleep.”

  Minna says, “I wonder when Frieda will get a chance to play it for us.”

  Juliane pirouettes across the room. “And then you’ll all get to see me dance.”

  “No, they want to see me dance.” Verena dips while holding on to the piano and kicks a bare leg up to the ceiling. The orderlies by the gate strain to watch.

  Frieda comes over, and everyone says at once, “Can you play for us now?”

  She checks down the hall in search of Bathilda and sneaks the key out of her breast pocket. “We might as well check how it sounds.”

  The lid opens smoothly and disappears behind the keys. The ivory and ebony keys glisten as if no one’s ever touched them.

  We smile as the first pure note chimes and Frieda starts to play Ave Maria. She not only plays like the organist in church, but she sings along in the trained voice of an opera singer. Odelia hangs on the piano and sings along. Gitta and Ursel hum as Verena and Juliane dance around like ballet stars, even using each other for dance partners.

  The noise brings Bathilda out, but she lingers behind the desk, waiting for something to go wrong so she can blame it on the piano. As soon as the song is over, Odelia asks, “Can I try to play something?”

  “I didn’t know that you could.”

  “It was a song I played over and over again before I came here. I hear it in my sleep.” She starts up a tune in the minor keys, casting an eerie tone to the room. She sings in a quiet voice,

  “Sunday is gloomy,

  My hours are slumberless

  Dearest the shadows

  I live with are numberless

  Little white flowers

  Will never awaken you

  Not where the black coach of

  Sorrow has taken you

  Angels have no thought

  Of ever returning you

  Would they be angry

  If I thought of joining you?

  Gloomy Sunday.”

  “That’s the Hungarian Suicide Song,” Verena whispers. “The radio networks have banned it since so many people have committed suicide to it.”

  I can see why. I never heard a more mournful sound.

  “Gloomy is Sunday,

  With shadows I spend it all

  My heart and I

  Have decided to end it all

  Soon there’ll be candles

  And prayers that are said I know

  Let them not weep

  Let them know that I’m glad to go

  Death is no dream

  For in death I’m caressing you

  With the last breath of my soul

  I’ll be blessin’ you

  Gloomy Sun—”

  Before she finishes, she yanks her fingers from the keys with a disharmonious sound that makes me jump. She braces a blinking, frozen Gitta to her side. Frieda moves quickly to get beside her. “You’ll be just fine, dear. Come back to us now. We’re right here.”

  “Someone play something I can really dance to.” Verena can’t care less about Gitta.

  After Gitta starts to come to, they walk her away to rest in her room. Minna actually takes advantage of the fact Frieda has left the piano unlocked and starts to play a rowdy American tune. Everyone but Verena looks on in shock, since the sound that comes from her fingers is just like it would come from a radio. Verena kicks up her heels, pulls up her dress, and does a cancan around the room. After the song is over, Minna tucks her arms back in like a chicken, and you never would guess she had such a talent.

  “Where did you learn to play like that, Minna?” I ask.

  She starts to blush in her splotchy pattern. “My mama always said that I just played as soon as I walked. No one ever teached me.”

  “I bet the fairies taught her. They do that. Teach babies things.” Ursel acts like the expert on the matter but, of course, Clemm’s skills must have carried through from before.

  “Play something else,” Juliane requests, and as soon as another dancing tune rings out, Juliane gets up on her feet with Verena to dance some more.

  Frieda returns and her jaw hangs open when she sees who plays. She perches over Minna’s shoulder to learn from the person doctors and nurses have deemed an ‘idiot’. As soon as she’s finished, though, Bathilda gives a loud throat-clearing and Frieda pulls the key back out as we all groan.

  “I’m sorry, girls. It’s time to clean up for lunch. I’ll be sure to let you have a little time each day to enjoy it.” The lid closes with a thud.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  After lunch, we’ve just settled back into our books and games when Frieda comes up to us with a row of sunhats in her hand. “Ready for our walk?”

  Only Sibylle moans; everyone else leaps up to grab their favorite banged-up, floppy hat. By the time I reach her, there is only the worst one left, and I stick it on just to make Gitta laugh. I’m glad there are no mirrors here, because with the state of my messy hair and wrinkled dress, finished off with this shapeless hat, I’m sure I’m quite the sight. We file down the stairs, Bathilda in front and Frieda coming up behind, flanking us like geese parents. It’s a sunny spring day, with only a bit of chill in the air left over from winter. It seems we’re not the only ones allowed out for a walk. The doors to all of the buildings open wide to expel the strange contents they’ve hidden.

  “Does everyone go for a walk at the same time?” I ask Gitta.

  She nods. “Once a week, if the weather is good. The women go one day, the men on another.”

  The courtyards fill with people in every state of illness and suffering. Many of the women are not even allowed to walk on their own. Most stagger around in lines, tied with a rope to the people in front of them and behind, anchored by a nurse. I spy Zelda furiously scraping gum off her shoe and shoving each salvaged bit into her slobbering mouth. I didn’t realize how sane the women I share my floor with are. We look completely normal next to these sad, sad women. Some smile up at the sun, but many scream and claw to go back inside. They shout out to people who aren’t there, shake uncontrollably, pull at their hair, run in circles, or groan like miserable ghosts.

  I stop looking around and focus on the warm grass and fresh breeze blowing so high up here on the hill. Men up in the buildings paw their hands out through the bars of the open windows, moaning to us as we parade by. I’m certain they make sure no one from the outside is visiting during these walks. The chaos and the noise of excitement and stress overpower any sounds of nature outside. Birds fly away and ground squirrels flee. Even the bees seem to abandon the flowers too close to the unruly commotion, freaks of nature as we are.

  Chapter 7

  In the morning, Odelia is one of the first patients out with me. She slowly rubs her hands up and down her arms to warm them.

  “Would you like to borrow my sweater?” I’ve never seen her wear one.

  “No, thank you. I have one in my room.”

  Why wouldn’t she wear it, then, if she was cold?

  “That was a beautiful song you sang yesterday. I’ve never heard it.”

  “It’s Hungarian. They’ve banned it because so many have committed suicide to it.”<
br />
  “I can see why. It’s very haunting.”

  “It makes me feel better.” She shrugs. “I used to listen to it all day. It’s one of the reasons why my husband stuck me in here.”

  I don’t know what to say to that.

  She turns to look at me, which she hardly ever does. The shadows in her eyes scare me. “I lost both my children within a week. A girl and a boy. Still babies.”

  “I’m so sorry.” I wish she would take my sweater, for she looks so cold.

  She shrugs her shoulders. “Everyone is, but that doesn’t take away the pain at all. Nothing can bring them back.”

  Her shoulders fold around her and she starts to sob. I worry that Bathilda will come out and blame me for this. “Will it help you if I tell you that I know that we get to live again? All over again with our loved ones.”

  This catches her off guard and she stops sobbing to look up.

  “We don’t just live this one life. We’ve lived many lives. Your children, I assure you, have lived with you before, and they are most certainly up in heaven right now planning when they will get to live again with you.”

  Is that a smile? It’s so slight I can hardly tell.

  She clears her throat. “How do you know this?”

  “That’s why I’m in here. They tell me that I’m delusional, but it’s only that I was born remembering everything. Everyone else forgets it all, but for some reason, I haven’t.”

  “Tell me about heaven.”

  “Well, your children wouldn’t have felt any pain at all. Children are always taken gently by angels, and they are brought to their favorite place to be with their spirit guide. He or she will show them their old lives, and by then you will be with them, because time goes much slower in heaven.”

  “Then they aren’t missing me right now?”

  “They might be thinking of you, but as soon as they are done viewing their lives, they will be with you. You will already be passed on as well.”

  She spurts out in different tears, hurried and frantic. I place a hand on her shoulder. I hope I haven’t made her worse, but she looks up at me with an expression of joy.