by Sharon Sala
Irked that he was putting her into such a spot, she got up from the bed and washed her face and combed her hair. She’d have to go and hopefully explain Wyatt’s absence away. This was all such a waste of time.
Aaron Tyler’s pulse kicked into gear as he glanced at the clock. Almost time for another session with Ellie Wayne, then he amended the thought. In the three weeks she’d been here, he hadn’t talked to Ellie more than a couple of times. He’d broached the subject with Wyatt, who came occasionally and remained noncommittal each time. He would talk about his experiences, but never gave anything about Ellie away. It was apparent that Wyatt was the guardian and would not be talking Ellie into anything she didn’t want to do.
Sophie came to therapy on a regular basis. She liked having a therapist and talked incessantly, but rarely about anything that was helpful to him. It was apparent that Ellie had created Sophie based on her perceptions of her mother. Fern hadn’t known what was going on with her husband and Ellie, and neither had Sophie.
Cinnamon was interesting. She obviously represented everything Ellie wanted to be. She didn’t take crap from people and spoke up for herself and for Ellie. She’d told him that if Ellie ever showed up, to offer her a Hershey bar. He had a handful in the drawer, but had yet to unwrap one.
But Ellie was still the enigma. As he was making last-minute notes, there was a knock at his door and then it opened.
One of the aides escorted Ellie into the office. “Ellie is here for her session.” He gave Ellie’s shoulder a quick pat. “I’ll take you back to your room when you’re done.”
When Aaron saw Ellie pull away from the contact, his heart skipped a beat. Cinnamon liked the aide. Sophie often held his hand. Wyatt talked to the aide more than he talked to Aaron, but Ellie didn’t like to be touched.
Hot damn.
“Come in,” Aaron said.
Ellie walked in, but didn’t sit. She eyed the doctor, noting his very kind brown eyes and long, slender face. “I’m very sorry. Wyatt wouldn’t come. I don’t know where he is.”
“That’s alright, Ellie. I appreciate you coming to let me know.”
Relieved that Wyatt wasn’t in trouble, she began to relax.
“Have a seat,” Aaron said. He took a Hershey bar from the drawer and laid it on the desk in front of her. “Do you like chocolate?”
Ellie’s mouth watered. She hadn’t had a Hershey bar in such a long time.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, tore into the paper and broke off the first square.
Aaron stifled a smile. Thank you, Cin. “You’re welcome.” He sat down and took one for himself then mirrored her actions, breaking off a square and putting it on his tongue.
“Umm,” Ellie said, and then frowned and absently rubbed at the frown between her eyebrows.
“Headache?” Aaron asked.
Ellie nodded. “It’s that baby.” She broke off another piece of chocolate and placed it on her tongue as precisely as a priest with a communion wafer. “It just never hushes. I don’t know anything about kids, but I don’t think they cry all the time. Do you have children?”
“No, I’m not married, but I have nieces and nephews. You’re right. They aren’t supposed to cry all the time.”
Ellie nodded. “That’s what I figured.” She licked chocolate off the end of her finger then laid the candy bar in her lap so she wouldn’t eat it too fast. She wanted to make it last.
“When did you begin hearing the baby cry?” Aaron asked.
“A day or so after the abortion. It’s the ghost of the baby I killed.”
Aaron kept watching her expressions and keying in on the tone of her voice as she talked. She didn’t seem the least bit remorseful about the abortion.
“You’re sure?”
She shrugged. “What else could it be? I had an abortion and then start hearing a baby cry. It’s just God reminding me that I sinned. I’m gonna be haunted until I die.”
She looked down in her lap and broke off another square.
Aaron’s eyes widened. She was religious? This was something he hadn’t known about Ellie Wayne. “Do you belong to a church?”
“Yes. Preacher Ray was a good preacher.”
“Did you go often?”
“Daddy took me every Sunday. I liked it the most when the choir sang. Music in church soaks into your skin. We always sat in the same pew so I could sit in the colors.”
Aaron was excited about what she was saying. He made a quick note and then took another bite of chocolate, as well.
“You sat in the colors? How do you do that?”
“It was where the sunlight came through the Jesus window. If I sat in the right place, all the colors spilled onto my chest and in my lap.”
“Why did you like to sit in the colors?”
“They were from the Jesus window. You know that part of the Bible where Jesus says, suffer the little children to come unto Me? That window had Jesus sitting in a garden with little kids all around Him. There was even one sitting in His lap. I liked to sit in the colors because I thought He could hear me praying better.”
Ellie’s head was buzzing, but she put another piece of chocolate in her mouth and it almost stopped.
“What did you pray about?” Aaron asked.
“I prayed for Daddy to leave me alone but it never happened. Not even after I got my period. I don’t pray to God anymore.”
“Why not?”
Ellie’s hands began to shake. She took two squares at once and put them in her mouth.
“He wouldn’t listen. I got tired of praying for things that never happened. The last time was when I prayed I wouldn’t be pregnant, but I was. I told God then we were done. I haven’t talked to Him since.”
She wrapped up the last half of the chocolate bar.
“May I take this with me?”
Aaron felt her pulling away. There was so much more he wanted to ask her, but he didn’t want to pressure her to stay.
“Sure,” Aaron said. “When you come back, I’ll be sure to have another one for you.”
All of a sudden Ellie looked up at Aaron. A big smile broke across her face and then she crossed her legs and laughed. Just like that, Ellie was gone.
“I told you Hershey bars would work.”
Aaron smiled. “And I thank you, Cin.”
“Anything for our girl,” she said. “Why don’t you give Charlie a call. Tell him we’re ready to go back to our room, okay?”
He made the call then leaned back to talk to Cinnamon while they waited.
“So what’s been going on with you?”
“Not much. Watching TV, hanging out with Ellie and the loonies in the common room.”
Aaron frowned. “I hope you don’t call them that to their faces.”
“I don’t, but between us, they are nuts. This afternoon there was even this great big guy who interrupted me right in the middle of my favorite soap and made me miss the best part.”
“What did he want?”
She laughed. “Like everyone else, he wanted to talk to Ellie.”
Aaron frowned. “Ellie? Not you or Wyatt or Sophie?”
“No. He specifically said he needed to talk to Ellie.”
“What was his name?”
“He didn’t say. But he was for sure the tallest guy I’ve ever seen, with this really long white hair and beard and dressed all in white. Kind of freaky if you ask me.”
Aaron abruptly leaned forward.
“He talked to you? As in opened his mouth and spoke?”
Cin made a face at him and then laughed. “How else can you talk without opening your mouth?”
“What exactly did he say?”
“I don’t know ‘exactly’. I don’t have a photographic memory, you know.”
“Take a guess.”
Cin looked up at the ceiling, gathering her thoughts then started counting them off on her fingers.
“He just kept saying, ‘tell Ellie to come see me,’ that he needed to talk to her, and to tel
l her that he had been listening.”
“Shit.”
Cinnamon laughed. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
Aaron actually blushed. “I’m so sorry. That slipped out.”
There was a knock on the door.
“That will be Charlie. When you see Ellie again, tell her how much I enjoyed our talk.”
“Okay. See you later,” Cin said.
The minute the door closed behind her, Aaron grabbed the phone and dialed an extension.
“Moira. I need to talk to you.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Moira Ferris liked her job as a psychiatrist at Mind and Body, and for the most part felt she was making a difference in her patients’ lives—except for Luther Dunn.
At nearly seven feet tall, Luther was quite a sight among the other patients. Even though his hair and beard were extremely long, he was neat to the point of obsession. When he’d first come here, he’d sat in his room naked, refusing to wear clothing until they’d brought in a pair of white scrubs long enough to fit his near seven-foot height. The loose-fitting outfit, along with his white hair and bare feet had earned him the nickname “Hippy” from the aides.
Luther had been here for more than five years now, and in all that time had never talked. Not to aides, or doctors or other patients—not while he was eating—not during sessions—not even after shock therapy. He never willingly left his room and only then when someone came after him.
Then for some reason, today everything changed. When it came time to go to the common room, Luther went unaided.
As soon as Luther walked in, he began circling, eyeing faces, pausing to listen to conversations while staring intently at the patients’ faces. Then for no obvious reason, he suddenly stopped behind the sofa where Ellie Wayne was seated and touched her shoulder.
That was the second bombshell.
By the time Dr. Ferris got the news that Luther was out of his room and talking, over an hour has passed. She hurried down in an attempt to intercept him, but was too late and grabbed the nearest aide instead.
“Charlie. Where is Luther?”
“He was just here . . . I guess he left already.”
“Who was he talking to?”
Charlie pointed. “That girl with the long hair who’s watching television. Her name is Ellie Wayne, but you might not get much out of her.”
Charlie’s warning had proved to be right. When Moira caught up with Ellie, she got someone named Cinnamon, who had no idea who Luther Dunn was, or why he would want to talk to Ellie Wayne.
At that point, she headed for Luther’s room, trying not to break into an out-and-out lope. As always, she found him sitting by the window with his eyes closed and his face to the sun.
“Luther. It’s me, Dr. Ferris.”
Luther didn’t react.
“I heard you made a friend today. What was her name?”
Luther was mute and motionless.
Moira felt like she was talking to a wall. If she hadn’t seen his eyelids fluttering, she might have thought he was dead.
“Maybe another time,” she said. “I’m glad you’ve found a friend though. That’s a positive move. So, we’ll talk again at your next session.”
She started to leave, then leaned over and moved her hand in front of his face just to make sure he was breathing.
Luther opened his eyes.
Startled, Moira straightened abruptly and walked out. “That was embarrassing.”
So Luther was back on shutdown mode. She just had to find another place to start. She headed for her office to find out all she could about Ellie Wayne, but after an hour of reading through both Luther and Ellie’s files, she couldn’t find one connection that made sense. Not only were they not from the same part of the country, and of different sexes, there was also a forty-year difference in their ages.
She was still struggling to make sense of it all when her phone rang. “Dr. Ferris.”
“Moira, it’s me, Aaron. I need to talk to you.”
She knew from reading Ellie’s file that Aaron was her doctor. “And I you. My office or yours?”
“I’ll come to yours. Be there in five.”
He made it in four.
Moira had the door ajar for his arrival. “That was quick.”
Aaron got straight to the point. “Have you heard?”
“You mean about Luther Dunn wanting to talk to your patient, Ellie Wayne? Yes. I venture to say most of the hospital knows it by now.”
Aaron dropped onto the sofa, chose a piece of hard candy from the candy dish and popped it into his mouth. “Eww, butterscotch.”
Moira rolled her eyes. “You’re worse than my patients. Choose another. They always do.”
Aaron tossed the candy and dug through the dish again. “What do you make of it? Have you talked to him?”
Moira shrugged. “I don’t know what to think, and yes I spoke to him, but got nowhere. He was in his usual spot, sitting in front of the window with his eyes closed and the sun on his face. I spoke to Ellie but got one of her alters instead.”
Aaron nodded. “Was it Cinnamon?”
Moira nodded.
“I thought so. She already told me about Luther talking to her. She’s the one who’s Ellie’s age. Pretty outrageous but I like her. She’s got a good head on her shoulders. I’m not sure Ellie will show up though. It’s impossible to predict what she might do.”
“So what exactly did this Cinnamon tell you?”
“That Luther wants to talk to Ellie. How the hell he knew there was more than one personality to choose from is a mystery, and why he chose Ellie is an even bigger one. But there is an interesting aspect to this that you don’t know.”
“Like what?”
“I think at one point in her life, Ellie Wayne was very religious. She may still consider herself religious, but in her words, ‘right now she’s mad at God’.”
“I might be mad at God, too, if I’d had to endure what that child has gone through.”
“I know, and you haven’t seen the videos.”
“Oh my God, there are videos?”
“About sixteen years’ worth.”
“Wait. That would have made her—”
“Two years old when he started to film them together.”
Moira shuddered. “Jesus. No wonder she came undone.”
“Anyway . . . here’s the point I was trying to make. Ellie said she used to go to church every Sunday with her father and pray to God for help, but it never came. She said God never listened to her.”
Moira frowned. “I don’t get it.”
“Cinnamon also told me that when Luther was talking to her, the last thing he said was to tell Ellie he was listening.”
It took a few moments for Moira to grasp what he was saying, and then she gasped.
“No way!”
“Way. So explain to me, how your patient, who has refused to talk for the past five years, and who believes that he is God, suddenly goes looking for Ellie Wayne to make sure she knew he was listening?”
Ellie sat in the middle of her bed with the last half of the candy bar unwrapped in her lap. She put a small square on her tongue and then closed her eyes so she could garner every aspect of the chocolate experience without being distracted.
The baby was still wailing, but Ellie had been thinking about it for weeks and was beginning to wonder if it might not have something to do with the fact that the baby kept crying because no one answered—no one came to pick it up.
She knew what that was like. She’d talked to God for years without being heard. Maybe that baby just wanted to be heard as well. She was toying with the theory that if the baby knew it had been heard, maybe then it would stop. But that would mean talking to God again to intercede on the baby’s behalf. Obviously the baby couldn’t hear Ellie. But if it was a ghost, then God certainly could. Spirits and ghosts and angels were part of God’s realm, not hers.
She broke off another piece of chocolate and was ab
out to put it in her mouth when Sophie popped in.
“Oh. Chocolate.”
Ellie knew Sophie liked her sweets. “Dr. Tyler gave it to me during session. Would you like a piece?”
“Yes, please.” She ate it quickly, savoring the taste and licking her fingers as she scooted down onto the bed beside Ellie. “He gives out candy? I had no idea. He’s never offered me any.”
“I’ll share.”
Sophie leaned in to get closer. “What? What did you say?”
Ellie raised her voice. “I said, ‘I’ll share.’”
Sophie patted her on the arm. “Yes, you are a dear.”
“No, I said ‘I’ll share,’ not ‘I’m a dear.’”
“Ah . . . I knew that didn’t make much sense. You realize I’m getting very hard of hearing.”
Ellie nodded. “It’s okay, Sophie. We’ll all talk louder.”
Sophie took Ellie’s hand, something she always did when she wanted to make a point. “You know one of these days my hearing will be completely gone. When that happens, you won’t be able to talk to me anymore.”
Ellie felt all the blood drain from her face, and for a few seconds she had to grab hold of the bed to stop it from spinning. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I said, darling. I’m losing my hearing because you don’t really need me anymore. I’m still here, only because you’re clinging to the past.”
Ellie felt sick. “No. That’s not true. I love you, Sophie. I’ll always need you.”
“I love you, too, but I’m not your mother. I can’t ever take her place. When I’m gone, it will be alright. You’ll see. I’ll still be with you, but we just won’t talk anymore. You’ll feel my love and strength and remember what we’ve shared, but that will be all. That’s how memories are supposed to be.”
Ellie handed Sophie another piece of chocolate in a subconscious need to appease the horror of what she was saying.
“No, Sophie. Your ears are fine. You’ll see. I’m full of this chocolate now. Would you like to have the rest?”
