Body and Soul

by Susan Krinard

  Why, everyone knew she was crazy.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jesse arrived at Al’s study an hour before their seven o’clock appointment, another day’s work behind her and a hundred unanswered questions seething in her mind.

  She paused at the door to organize her thoughts and count her blessings. At least she hadn’t run into Gary. Avoiding her, maybe, which could be good or bad news.

  It could be proof that her gut feelings were right.

  And David Ventris had been as good as his word. He had left her alone. Not that her solitude had been peaceful. When she wasn’t keeping herself busy with the Lodge guests, her mind was constantly wandering back to her conversation with David. The way he looked. The rich timbre of his voice. The seductiveness of his touch, that had resonated through her body as no other man’s touch had done.

  He had too much effect on her, after only two meetings, when she’d barely come to accept that he was real. She both dreaded and anticipated their next rendezvous, and her very ambivalence was troubling in itself. How could one be attracted to a ghost? She had to keep careful control over the situation, never let it get out of hand, remember the bargain they’d struck. She had to compartmentalize David into a mental box where he couldn’t interfere with her other goals.

  And tonight …

  She’d insisted on this second hypnosis session in spite of Al’s better judgment. This time she had to remember her childhood.

  Focus. Focus on my past.

  Nevertheless, she’d come early to spend an hour or so with Al’s computer. He had access to the Internet. If there was any information to be found about a man named David Ventris, or his family, it might be somewhere in that vast and intimidating web of electronic data.

  If she could figure out how to get to it. Jesse walked through the door and started for Al’s vast desk.

  The chair in front of it was already occupied. On the seat was a child—a ten-year-old girl with blunt-cut brown hair and glasses, legs folded beneath her, who stared into the bright screen of the computer with a concentration that admitted no intrusions.

  Megan. Jesse stopped to observe the girl, reluctant to interrupt. Megan was small for her age, thin, barely level with the computer. She wore a loose T-shirt a size too large and baggy pants. Her fingers were nimble on the keyboard, an adult’s sureness in their movements. The glow from the screen reflected on her glasses, obscuring her eyes.

  A lump tightened Jesse’s throat. For a moment she imagined herself as a child sitting in Megan’s place, adrift in her own world, though she’d never owned a computer. She’d had the woods, the hills, a different kind of flight from loneliness.

  So much had been taken from Megan, but her loneliness could be eased; Jesse could do something about it. Maybe not much—maybe she wasn’t wise enough to help a child in pain. Not strong enough, haunted as she was by her past and a very persistent ghost. But she’d been handed a chance, here and now.

  And she’d promised to try.

  “Megan?”

  The girl went still, hands suspended above the keys. Jesse moved around behind her. There were graphics of animals on the screen: running wolves beneath explanatory boxes of text.

  A flick of Megan’s finger on the plastic mouse beside the keyboard and the image disappeared, replaced by a list of what Jesse recognized as Internet addresses. Slowly Megan swiveled around in the chair. Her eyes were dark gray, but the too cumbersome tortoiseshell glasses swallowed them up. Her small mouth was expressionless.

  “Hello,” Jesse said, squatting to Megan’s level. “I’m Jesse. Maybe Al’s mentioned me. I live—”

  “I know who you are,” Megan said. She looked Jesse over without a trace of curiosity or welcome. “Al’s not here right now.”

  “I know.” Jesse straightened and looked at the screen. “Actually, I came in here to try to use the computer. You seem to know how to do it pretty well.”

  Megan shrugged. “It’s easy. What do you need it for?”

  A trace of sharpness there, guarding her territory. Jesse knew that feeling too well. When you were abandoned, when you’d lost a little too much, you carved out your own space with ferocious determination and held it against all odds.

  “I only wanted to borrow it to get some information,” Jesse said. “About a person from the past. Is that possible?”

  “You can do anything on the Internet.”

  “I wish I knew more about it, but I’m an amateur. How did you learn?”

  “A little in class, and I did the rest on my own.” Megan swung back to the screen. “I had to use the ones at school. Grandma didn’t have a computer. She thought it was a waste of money.”

  Jesse almost asked Megan about her grandma. A child who’d recently lost her caretaker of many years would need to talk about that loss, and she doubted Al had made much progress. He’d said he couldn’t reach Megan.

  But something held Jesse back. It was too soon. She had to let Megan get to know her first. And it seemed very, very important that she make that connection—a gut-level feeling, like the ones she’d had about David. Or Gary.

  The difference was that Megan was a child, and Jesse could call the shots.

  “You know, I think I’m going to need some help with this,” Jesse said. “I’m a little intimidated.”

  The look Megan cast her was dubious at best—testing for condescension or an adult’s hidden agenda. Incipient rebuff was in Megan’s stiff posture and pinched face. She hesitated, biting her lower lip between slightly crooked front teeth. “Do you … want me to show you?”

  An opening. A hint of trust. Jesse nodded and came to stand beside Megan. “Thanks. I’ll watch you, and maybe I’ll learn something.”

  “Who do you want to look up?”

  “A man named David Ventris. Lord … Ashthorpe, I think. He lived in the early 1800s, in England. He was a soldier who fought Napoleon, but I don’t think he was famous. Is that something I can find?”

  “Maybe. It might take a lot of looking.” Megan frowned and clicked the mouse. The screen changed to a page with bands of color, playful lettering, and the words “Net Search” at the top.

  “You can type in the subject here,” Megan said. She moved the mouse and positioned the blinking cursor in a blank space. “The best kind of site might be genealogy, since he lived a long time ago. Is he someone from your family?”

  “No. Just someone I was curious about.”

  Megan typed in the word “genealogy” and clicked the mouse. A few seconds later there was a new list of addresses. Megan scrolled to the bottom of the screen and typed “England” in another blank space.

  “Eighty-eight entries on that subject you can check,” Megan said, “but some of them are for specific names. There’s a genealogy home page, here. Or you can e-mail one of these people.” She indicated one of the addresses with a bitten fingernail. “People who do research on stuff like that.”

  Jesse considered the screen dubiously. Megan was right; it would probably take a lot of looking, something she’d have to do in her spare time.

  And what would it prove in the end? That David Ventris was real? She’d already accepted that. She had no reason to doubt his stories of what little past he remembered.

  “Thanks,” she said. “At least now I know where to start.” She crouched again, taking note of Megan’s sneakers. They were hot pink—a tiny shout of defiance amid the drab anonymity of Megan’s other clothing.

  “How do you like Manzanita so far, Megan?”

  Megan’s shoulders rolled forward in a hunch, away from Jesse. “How should I know? Al won’t let me out of the house.”

  Al. Not Uncle Al, or any indication of a feeling of closeness. Or family.

  “He runs the library,” Jesse said. “There wouldn’t be one in this town without him. He probably thought you needed to rest after coming here.”

  “I know how busy he is,” Megan said. “He doesn’t want me.”

  The bluntness of the words chi
lled Jesse. “Why do you think that?”

  “He likes to be alone. He doesn’t want a kid around.” Megan moved the cursor on the screen and clicked the mouse until the monitor went dark. “I didn’t want to come. I didn’t ask him to let me live here.”

  Jesse swallowed and kept her hands on her knees so that she wouldn’t reach out and hug Megan with all her strength. Too soon. She’d scare the girl off for certain.

  “He’s your uncle,” she said as evenly as she could. “He cares about you. He just doesn’t know how to show it. Maybe you both need some time to get used to each other.”

  “When the summer’s over I can go back to school,” Megan said. “Then we’ll both be happy.”

  But there was no anticipation of happiness in Megan’s eyes, only dull resignation. She didn’t want to get to know Al, didn’t want to open up only to be hurt again.

  “Well,” Jesse said, “since you’ll be here for the summer anyway, I wonder if you’d be interested in seeing some of the area with me. How are you at hiking?”

  Megan slid from the chair. “Where?”

  “There are lots of good trails around here. I take groups at the Lodge up into the mountains, and I’ve found some really beautiful places. Some of them no one else knows about but me.”

  She didn’t imagine that renewed spark in Megan’s glance. “I can hike,” Megan said. She walked across the room, studying Al’s bookshelves with feigned concentration. “But I don’t need anyone to go with me. I can take care of myself.”

  Oh, God. It was like looking in a mirror. Jesse saw the reflection of herself in Megan’s bitter wariness.

  “Maybe you can most places,” she said, “but the thing about these mountains is that you need to take time to get to know them. Sort of like people you can’t figure out right away. Even hikers with experience don’t go alone.” She moved cautiously around the desk. “Did Al tell you I work for a search and rescue team? We go out to help people when they get lost or into trouble.”

  Megan’s jaw set. “I don’t get lost. I went everywhere by myself at Grandma’s. She didn’t care.”

  And that was the problem, wasn’t it? Grandma didn’t care. How long had it been since anyone had cared about Megan?

  “But I would care if something happened to you,” Jesse said. Bobby Moran’s pale, lifeless face flashed in her mind, and she pushed the image aside. Megan was not Bobby. “Sometimes when people out here get in trouble, they’ve just miscalculated how dangerous a situation is, or forgotten to take enough water, or didn’t carry warm enough clothes. I could show you how to avoid those kinds of problems.”

  Megan stared at Jesse with that same calculating assessment, a balancing act between a child’s needs and self-protection. “Why?” she asked.

  Why do you care? she meant. How could Jesse answer that, when Megan was so suspicious of anyone’s interest? “Because it helps to have friends when you come to a new place,” Jesse said. “I had Al when I came back to Manzanita. Everyone needs someone.”

  “Oh,” Megan said. Her face closed like a door firmly shut. “You’re doing a favor for Al.”

  “That’s not true, Megan. I—”

  “What isn’t true?”

  Al walked into the room and stopped beside the desk, leaning heavily on his cane. “Hello, Jesse. I see you’ve found Megan. Have I interrupted a philosophical discussion?”

  “Not at all. Megan was just showing me how to use the Internet.”

  “Good. Good.” Al looked at Megan with the detachment Jesse had always admired but which seemed so inappropriate now. “I’m pleased to see you’re keeping yourself occupied, Megan. Mrs. Plummer said you’ve been very quiet.”

  Megan folded her arms across her chest and hunched against the bookcase, unresponsive. Al cleared his throat. “I also thought it would be good for you and Jesse to get to know each other. Jesse lives so close, and since I’m at the library almost every day—”

  “I don’t need another baby-sitter,” Megan said. She stared at the carpet between her pink tennis shoes. “I can do things by myself.”

  “But I can’t allow you to go out on your own.” He glanced at Jesse. “I’m sure that Jesse would be happy to show you around town. There’s a swimming pool at the Lodge, and probably other children to play with.”

  Megan’s head swung up. “Playing is for little kids, and I don’t like to swim. I have a book I want to read in my room. Can I go?”

  She didn’t wait for Al’s permission but strode for the door, fixed on escape. Al made no attempt to stop her.

  A door banged shut down the hall. Al raised his brows and closed the study door with exaggerated care.

  “You see what I mean,” he said. “Megan’s defenses are very high.” He gestured Jesse toward the recliner. “What were you two discussing?”

  “I was suggesting that she come hiking with me.” Jesse leaned back, hand over her eyes. “I’m afraid it didn’t go too well.”

  “I had hoped …” Al sighed. “She won’t come out of her room most of the time. She isn’t eating. Mrs. Plummer expressed some worry, but all this could be a manifestation of grief. If there were a child psychologist closer than Redding—”

  “I don’t think it’s psychology she needs,” Jesse said. “You said you didn’t know how close she was to her grandmother.”

  Al pulled the desk chair to the side of the recliner. “My brother’s mother-in-law came from a wealthy family. She didn’t approve of her daughter’s choice of husband, but she took Megan in after Cesar and Helen were killed. I wasn’t in close contact with any of them.”

  “I have a hunch that your brother’s mother-in-law didn’t approve of Megan, either,” Jesse said. But she couldn’t put into words any of the thoughts that crowded her mind, transform them into neat explanations that Al could understand. They weren’t rational. What Jesse saw in Megan’s pain hit too close to home.

  “I still believe you may reach her where I can’t,” Al said. “Will you keep trying?”

  Jesse closed her eyes. Keep trying. Al cared enough about Megan to want the best for her, and for some reason he thought Jesse could provide what Megan needed.

  “You’re doing a favor for Al,” Megan had said, with a too adult cynicism. It might have started that way, but after their brief conversation Jesse knew it had become much more. More, even, than seeing herself in Megan.

  A strange compulsion had awakened inside Jesse, every bit as inexplicable as the appearance of a ghost and the return of Gary Emerson. As if, somehow, events had come into some bizarre conjunction, and she was still too unenlightened to see the pattern they formed.

  But that was fantasy, an effort to regain some control by seeing purpose where there was only coincidence. The simple fact was that she might be able to help Megan. If she’d made it her business to know Bobby Moran, to reach out before he’d become senseless with drugs and hopelessness, he might still be alive.

  “I’ll keep trying,” she said. “But it may take time.”

  “She wants to return to boarding school in September.”

  “No.” Jesse sat up, moved by the protest that came so instinctively. “That’s the last thing she should do. We’ve got to convince her not to run.”

  Al cocked his head. “From what, Jesse?”

  Without warning the image of David Ventris filled her, mind and body. It was as if he made a crack in her heart, unexpected as a fissure torn out of the earth by a sudden quake.

  Such unstable ground made a poor foundation for reason. Jesse lay back, determined to clear her mind for Al’s hypnotic suggestions. Stay away, David Ventris. I don’t want you here.

  “It’ll make more sense when I’ve answered my own questions,” she said. “If you’re ready, I’d like to continue the hypnosis.”

  She heard skepticism in Al’s silence, but he only settled more comfortably into his chair and rested his cane against the recliner.

  “You remember how we began last time,” he said. “We’ll do it the
same way tonight, but we’ll try to slow the process down, give you a greater sense of control over your memories. This can’t be rushed, Jesse.”

  “I understand. Just one thing, Al—if I start to scream again, bring me out. I don’t want to upset Megan.”

  “I don’t intend to let it go that far. We’ll take this very easy.”

  Al was as good as his word. He seemed to understand that Jesse needed time to unwind after her talk with Megan, and his voice took on a soothing cadence both distant and enfolding. Step by step he took her through the induction. The relaxation came on so gradually that Jesse wasn’t aware of the precise moment when she crossed the threshold between full consciousness and that other state where her body was floating and her thoughts were nearly still.

  “Jesse? Do you feel ready to go back into your past?”

  She knew she answered, though she felt more than heard her reply. There was something strange about her own voice—not quite right, higher in pitch and oddly accented.

  And the man who spoke to her seemed to be very far away, as if she were hearing him from the opposite end of a long, dark tunnel. She found herself in an open space outside the gaping entrance … in a garden with a cobbled path at her feet and growing things all around her. The tunnel seemed gloomy and forbidding, and she had no desire to reenter it.

  The man in the tunnel began to talk about numbers, and counting off on a calendar. Jesse listened to it all with annoyed disinterest. He was keeping her from going where she wanted to go, and it was most vexing. She longed to explore the garden and find where the path might lead her.

  Then he was asking her about her childhood. Her mother. He gave a name she didn’t recognize. “Your mother, Joan,” he said. And that was quite ridiculous. Mother’s name had always been Letitia.

  There were more suggestions about remembering when she was eleven, but it was increasingly difficult to concentrate on the voice in the tunnel.

  She wandered away from the dark and crumbling entrance, answering the voice only when she must to keep him appeased. She knew how to make people believe what she wanted them to believe, do what she wanted them to do.