“She’ll suffer,” he said aloud. “And I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”
He laughed and, in response, a loud clap of thunder shook the house. He gazed seaward.
A storm is coming, he thought.
He once again closed his eyes and this time a picture of Dr. Katherine Pomeroy danced across his memory. He smiled, but not with pleasure. It was a grin full of venom and hatred.
Dr. Pomeroy, a descendent of Miss Maudie. Who would have guessed? How fitting that I came here for my final transformation. Almost as if the hand of God were charting my course. Perhaps life is a circle after all.
This final thought brought on peals of laughter that echoed into the lonely night. Tears of glee coursed down his wrinkled cheeks.
And her consort. What was his name? Bradshaw? Yes, Bradshaw. Good-looking man. Seems fit, too. A fine choice for her and for me. Yes, she will be the frosting on my cake and I will devour her readily.
Again, he laughed.
A few flakes of snow danced around him, but the air wasn’t cold enough for it to stick and yet it wasn’t warm enough for rain. Another burst of thunder roared as the snowflakes transformed into tiny pellets of ice. They hit his face like miniature arrows, piercing the top layer of his thin, withered skin. Small droplets of blood formed on his cheeks, but froze before they could slide down his face.
Angry, he turned his chair and made his way back inside. With some effort, he moved his ancient body from his wheelchair prison onto the bed. Pulling up the covers, he once again closed his eyes.
Not soon after, he fell asleep – his dreams, dark and desperate.
9
Kate
Nightmares
AFTER THANKING EVERYONE, we finally got home around midnight. We were both high on the universal positive reaction to my clinic and, also, being officially engaged. Neither of us tired, we opened a bottle of champagne, talked for a while, then made love leisurely.
When we finished, Jeremy put his arms around me and almost instantly drifted off.
Sleep, however, did not come easy for me.
When I closed my eyes, my mind revisited all those smiling faces at the party. I replayed all the compliments we’d gotten on the clinic, both for its design and function. Then, I remembered the genuine happiness that surrounded us when Jeremy announced our engagement. Thinking about this and the adoring way he looked at me, a smile played on my lips.
But then, unbidden, another picture floated into my mind’s eye. That angry old man, his blue eyes piercing me, the malevolence of his smile causing my heart to freeze.
Why? I asked myself. Why does that man frighten me so? He’s just an old guy. I took care of a lot of them back at Memorial. Seniors can be mean, impatient, and, sometimes, smell bad, but, in the end, they’re just people – usually in pain. What is it about this guy that’s so different?
I didn’t have any answers and I wondered about that vague, fleeting sense of recognition I’d felt when I’d first seen him.
Did I know him from someplace? Jeremy said he was from the barrier islands, either North or South Carolina. I’d never been there and couldn’t remember knowing or caring for anyone from there either.
I rolled over, punching my pillow. Now was not the time to dwell on this. I needed sleep. On Monday, the clinic would open and we had to make sure everything was working smoothly before that happened. Burrowing into my pillow, I pushed the picture of the old man’s face aside and began to count sheep.
Not long after, the sandman did come with his magic. However, he didn’t bring pleasant dreams. No, my dreams were, as usual, dark and dreadful.
I woke with a start. My heart was pounding and I reached for Jeremy, but the bed beside me was empty. Gasping for breath, I sat up and leaned over, head between my knees, trying to pull myself together.
The dream, so vivid, still had me in its grip. I rocked back and forth, trying to shake off the terror. Suddenly, I felt a weight beside me on the bed and strong arms wrap around me. I looked up. Jeremy was sitting beside me, pulling me into an embrace.
“Katy?” he asked softly. “You there?”
I nodded and buried my head in his chest. He held me quietly for a few minutes, then pulled away and, with his hand on my chin, gently tipped my head up so I was looking at him.
“This was a bad one, wasn’t it?” he asked.
Again, I nodded, still unable to speak.
“Was it the web again?”
A shiver of fear ran down my spine as he verbalized my greatest terror. I nodded, this time vigorously.
“And you were trapped – caught in it?”
“Yes,” I said softly. “I couldn’t move. The more I tried, the stickier the filaments became, holding me tighter and tighter.”
“But it wasn’t just the web this time, was it? There was something more.”
I hesitated, afraid that if I verbalized the most frightening element of my nightmare, somehow that would make it real.
“Katy, tell me,” Jeremy urged. “No matter what, I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
I gazed up into his eyes. They were filled with love and compassion.
“It was Shelob – you know, the creature from Lord of the Rings. Or something like that foul thing. And, it was coming for me – making its way across the web. I was helpless. And … and…”
“Go on, Katy. Get it all out.”
I took a deep breath. “As it neared me, I could see its face. It was Raoul. Oh, God, then Hettie, then … then it was the worst of all. It was my father!”
As I said those words, I once again buried my head in his chest, sobbing pitifully. He tightened his embrace, whispering soothing words as I cried.
Finally, there were no more tears left and I pulled away from him, sitting up. The aroma of strong, black coffee filled the room.
“You made coffee?” I asked.
Jeremy grinned. “More than that. You just wait right here. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Giving me one last long look to make sure I was okay to be left alone, he got up and walked out of the room. I leaned back on the pillows. The nightmare had been a bad one – one of the worst since the events of the summer before. The fact that my father had been a part of the exaggerated evil the dream represented, shook me to the core. He had been an innocent victim, not part of the criminal conspiracy headed by my uncle, Raoul, and my aunt, Hettie. Why now was my mind bringing him into this?
My thoughts were broken when Jeremy returned carrying a tray laden with coffee, juice, eggs, sausage, and French toast.
“Here you go, madam,” he said as he placed the tray across my lap. “Breakfast in bed for the new wage-earner in the family. I figured you’d need a hearty meal as you re-enter the medical jungle.”
I grinned at him. “I don’t think I can eat all of this!”
“You better not,” he replied. “Half of it’s mine!”
He walked back to the kitchen and returned carrying the pot of coffee and two cups. He poured mine, adding my usual teaspoon of Splenda. To his, he added a heaping measure of granulated sugar.
“That’s bad for you,” I said, indicating the sugar. “Try honey sometime. You might like it.”
“No thanks,” he replied. “I’m a sugar addict and proud of it.”
We ate in silence for a while and, when my appetite was sated, I leaned back against the headrest, sipping my coffee.
Jeremy placed the tray on the side table, then he took my hand in his.
“We need to talk about this, Katy,” he said, his face serious. “These nightmares are becoming worse, not better. You went through an awful lot last summer and I think it might be good for you to see a therapist to help you understand and deal with your post-traumatic stress disorder.”
I knew he’d been thinking about this for a while, but this was the first time he’d voiced it out loud. He’d had his own demons to deal with after he’d come back from Afghanistan and he’d done so because he loved me. Was it my turn now to
do the same?
“I know,” I finally said. “I need to deal with this. But I’ve been thinking about a slightly different approach.”
“How so?”
“Well, I was given a lot of psychogenic drugs last summer and I’m wondering if one or all of them are having residual effects.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know. Flashbacks and stuff like that. I know a researcher in California whose focus is on mind-altering drugs. I thought I’d talk to him.”
“Is he a clinician?”
“No, he doesn’t see patients. He’s a psychiatrist, but he doesn’t practice. He’s a researcher.”
“Okay. That might be a good first step. But what if he can’t help? Will you consider therapy if that happens?”
I hesitated a moment. Memories of being forcibly committed to the psych ward at Memorial by that sleaze, Dr. Conway, raced through my mind. That was when my nightmares began. Would I be able to put my trust in another shrink? I didn’t know if I could.
“Katy? A therapist?”
I sighed. “Okay. If it’s not the drugs and the dreams continue, then I’ll consider seeing someone. That make you happy?”
Jeremy stared at me, a sad expression on his face. “It’s not about making me happy, love. It’s about your peace of mind. Okay?”
Feeling a bit contrite, I nodded. “I’m sorry. Okay.”
“Well, that’s settled,” he said, rising. “Now, I’ve got to get going. And, you, my love, will need to shake a leg if you don’t want to be late for your final day of pre-opening prep.”
He picked up the tray and turned to leave the room, but stopped in the doorway, looking back. “Oh, I forgot to mention. I’ve got to spend the next couple of nights working on my books – preparation for tax season. So, I’ll be staying at my place. You’re welcome to bunk with me there, but I might not be great company.”
I grinned at him. We usually ended up here at my home, the Carriage House, but it might be nice to stay at his place for a change.
“I’d like that,” I said. “Meet you there at about seven?”
“That should do it,” he said, smiling. “We’ll do a couple of lobsters on the grill. Now, I’ve got to go. I packed you a sandwich for lunch – tuna, your favorite. It’s in the fridge. However, since I cooked breakfast, the dishes are all yours!”
I laughed and nodded. “I think I can handle that.”
Grinning, he blew me a kiss and left the room. I glanced at the clock. He was right. I had to get cracking or, once again, I’d be apologizing for being late.
10
Kate
Opening Day
SUNDAY BREEZED BY. Steve, Nadia, and I went over everything – once, twice, and one more time for good measure. We finished up around five and, after showering and changing into comfy clothes, I headed over to Jeremy’s.
Built in Cape Cod style, his house was not a grand structure like Stormview Manor or even the Carriage House, which had been converted into a one-bedroom apartment back in the 1980s. But it was warm and cozy and I was suddenly very glad to be there.
We had a great dinner, then Jeremy excused himself to work in his study. I sat down on the couch with my laptop going over protocols that would be initiated at the opening. When I was done, Jeremy was still hunkered down over his computer, so I put on the television and began to watch a movie on Netflix.
About a half-hour later, Jeremy joined me and we stayed up until the movie was finished.
Later, lying in bed, I thought about how comfortable I felt here. For some unknown reason – most likely habit – we’d always stayed at my place. But after tonight, I vowed, that was going to change. Here I was free not only of the memories of last summer, but also free of the pull from the little stone silo. For the first time, I acknowledged to myself how strong that pull was. At the Carriage House, I was constantly aware of Maude Prichard’s panic room and a part of me was drawn to the mysticism and vast knowledge stored on the bookshelves there. But here, that pull was nonexistent. I was, once again, just a normal person with no mumbo jumbo about ghosts and witches to haunt me.
Smiling, I rolled over and closed my eyes. There would be no bad dreams tonight, of that I was sure.
I arrived at the clinic on Monday just ten minutes late for the staff meeting we’d planned to have before our first patient arrived. Steve and Nadia were already at work going over the day’s schedule. I apologized for my tardiness, then sat down with them and got to work.
At eight a.m., promptly, we unlocked the doors and waited for our first appointments to arrive. The morning went by quickly. I saw five patients, most of whom were islanders I already knew. We were about to take a break for lunch when the front door flew open and a little girl about eight or nine years old came running inside. She made a beeline to Steve.
“Help, please, Doctor,” she cried. “My Sandy is having babies and they won’t come out.”
Steve knelt down beside the young girl, taking her hands in his.
“Settle down, honey,” he said soothingly. “Is Sandy your mom? Sister?”
The little girl shook her head vehemently. “No, Doctor, Sandy’s my dog.”
I could see Steve trying hard to suppress a grin at this turn of events.
“Oh, I see,” he said, sounding as serious as he could. “Where is Sandy?”
“She’s out in the car. Mom said you wouldn’t look at her. But I told her different. You’ll help her, won’t you, Doctor?”
Steve stood. “Of course, we will. But, honey, I’m not the doctor. I’m the nurse. This is the doctor.”
Steve pointed at me and I could see a look of confusion wash over the young girl’s face. Apparently, in her world, doctors were male and nurses were female.
She looked back at Steve and then, once again, at me.
I walked over and put my hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t worry,” I said, aware that there was no local vet on the island to assist this family with the delivery. “We’ll help Sandy. Steve, can you bring the dog inside? Put her in Exam Room One.”
Steve nodded and began to walk toward the door, but I stopped him.
“Be careful,” I warned. “If she’s breech or in pain, she may try to bite you. Take something that you can use for a muzzle.”
Steve smiled and reached up and unknotted his tie. “Thanks, but I think I’ll be okay. I did my share of dog deliveries growing up.”
He returned a few minutes later carrying a medium-sized mixed breed dog. His tie was wrapped around the dog’s snout, effectively creating a makeshift muzzle. He took the dog into the exam room and laid her on the floor.
I followed accompanied by the little girl and her mother.
I knelt beside the dog, examining her.
“One of the puppies is breech,” I said. “Steve, get me a pair of gloves. I’m going to turn her.”
I performed the procedure without incident and then turned the dog over to Steve so he could supervise the delivery of the rest of the puppies. As I stood and removed my gloves, I noted that the little girl had a bandage on her leg. I could see blood seeping through.
“Did you hurt yourself today, honey?” I asked.
The little girl glanced up at her mother, then down at the floor.
“She fell,” the mother said. “Sandy was upstairs and when Lila saw she was getting ready to give birth, well, she was just too excited and tripped on her way down to tell us.”
I smiled. “Would you mind if I take a look at the wound?”
Lila’s mother hesitated, then nodded.
I removed the bandage then motioned for Lila to sit on the exam table. “I’m going to clean this up,” I explained. “That okay with you?”
The little girl nodded.
I gently cleansed the wound, then turned to the girl’s mother. “This is a bad gash. It will heal faster if it’s stitched. Do I have your permission to put in a couple stitches?”
The woman bit her bottom lip. Finally, she bl
urted out, “We don’t have insurance. Will, that’s my husband, used to have insurance, but now it’s just too expensive. And, I don’t have the money to pay you.”
I could see the woman was near tears.
“I understand,” I said. “But Lila needs stitches. Perhaps we can strike a deal.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, did you freeze or put up any blueberries this past summer? I didn’t and I sure would like to have some now. Or, maybe raspberries or rhubarb.”
The woman stared at me and then, understanding what I was proposing, began to smile. “I have blueberries. More than enough for a pie. How about I make you a pie and maybe some scones for your staff.”
Steve looked up. “Sounds like a deal, Dr. Pomeroy. But I think we may be overcharging! Blueberry scones! Yum!”
Everyone laughed but Lila, her face solemn.
“It’s not enough,” she finally said, turning to Steve. “If you want, I could give you a puppy when they’re old enough.”
Steve looked surprised, but I caught a gleam of longing in his eyes when she mentioned giving him a dog. He glanced at me questioningly and I nodded my approval.
Beaming from ear to ear, he looked up at Lila. “Thank you,” he said. “I’d love a puppy, if it’s okay with your mom. Why don’t I come by your house in about three months’ time? They should be ready by then and I can pick one out, although I’m already partial to this little brindle-colored boy.”
Lila’s mom smiled and wrote down her address, handing it to Steve.
The puppy business over, I got down to work. I had Lila sit on the exam couch and began anesthetizing the area around her wound and, when it was numb, put in the necessary stitches. When I finished, I reached into the cabinet drawer and pulled out a lollipop and handed it to the little girl.
“You were the perfect patient and should be rewarded. Now, why don’t you go take a look at the puppies you’re going to be raising.”
The Tao of the Viper: A Kate Pomeroy Mystery (The Kate Pomeroy Gothic Mystery Series Book 2) Page 4
