The Surrogate, The Sudarium Trilogy - Book one

by Leonard Foglia

  In the afternoon, she installed herself in the sunroom and tried to read a new novel that the librarian had recommended. It was all about an abused wife, who decides to run away with her ten-year-old son and start a new life under a new name in Florida. But the sunroom was hot and after 40 pages, she grew drowsy and dozed off. She made herself get up and walk out into the garden.

  “Remember, don’t go too far, now,” Jolene called after her.

  “I thought I’d see if I could make it to the birdbath and back,” Hannah replied. Jolene didn’t pick up on the sarcasm or chose to ignore it.

  Just as Hannah had feared, she slept miserably that night. In bed by ten, she woke up at midnight, then one, then two, regular as clockwork. The more she fretted, the harder it was to fall back asleep. At three she gave up entirely, turned on her bedside light and tried to lose herself in the novel. Her back ached, but when she lay on her side, she couldn’t see the pages very well, so she shifted her position and the book slid off the bed and fell onto the floor.

  Exasperated by now and thoroughly awake, she got up and went for a glass of water (although she knew the consequences of that only too well), when she heard activity on the floor below and what sounded like voices - a voice, anyway - and footsteps descending the stairs. The noise was followed by the clack of the back door and she realized somebody had gone outside.

  She quickly extinguished the bedside lamp and crept to the window to see what was happening.

  The sky was cloudless and a full moon lit up the yard in a silvery glow. Both of the Whitfields had ventured out of the house. Marshall had on striped pajamas and a blue flannel bathrobe, which hung open. Jolene hadn’t even bothered with a bathrobe and her white silk nightgown looked almost luminescent in the moonlight. It was as if they had been abruptly awakened by a strange noise in the garden and were now trying to locate its source.

  Jolene walked ahead of her husband, until she reached the middle of the lawn, whereupon she stopped and stared off into the distance. Marshall followed several steps behind her, but when she stopped, he did, too. They both stood still for a long time, as if they expected someone or something to emerge from the stand of pines at the garden’s edge. But no one did. The night was silent, the trees so many frozen icicles in the bright moonlight. The water in the birdbath seemed to have the thickness and the sheen of mercury.

  Had the Whitfields had been facing her way, Hannah was certain she could have read the subtlest expression on their faces, seen their eyelids blink or their lips move. But they kept their backs to her, seemingly transfixed by the silvery tangle of pine boughs. Several more minutes passed, during which nothing stirred.

  Then Hannah noticed Jolene’s shoulders sag and her back slump, as if a plug at the base of her spine had been removed and all the tension in her body were draining out. She turned around and approached Marshall. The intruder, if that’s what it was, appeared to have departed. As quietly as possible, Hannah lifted up the sash of her bedroom window. A rush of cool air entered the room, along with the sound of voices. The Whitfields were talking in a hush, but if she concentrated, Hannah could make out some of the words.

  “What did she say?” Marshall was asking his wife.

  “There will be danger,” Jolene answered. Now Hannah could see her face clearly. The moonlight lent it a mask-like pallor.

  “Did she say when?”

  “It’s already here. Evil, trying to bore its way in. Trying to lure and cajole. It will be a fight. A fight we could lose, if we are not careful.”

  “What are we supposed to do?”

  “Be vigilant. She said to be vigilant. But she will be with us, when the time comes. She will stay close and she will keep us strong.”

  Marshall took off his bathrobe and put it around his wife’s shoulders. “How will we recognize this evil?”

  “It comes in the guise of help. ‘It will come in my name,’ she said. From there. It will come from there!” And with that, Jolene raised her arm and pointed down Alcott Street in the direction of the town.

  1:26

  When Jolene delivered breakfast the next morning, Hannah off-handedly asked her if she’d slept well.

  “Like a baby,” Jolene replied. “Marshall says once I drop off, a brass band couldn’t wake me.” She seemed particularly energetic. Her eyes were sharp and she had color in her cheeks. She didn’t look like a woman, who’d been up at three in the morning, wandering around barefoot in a nightgown.

  Whatever had transpired, the Whitfields were intent on keeping it to themselves. On her daily stroll to and from the birdbath, Hannah purposefully overshot the mark and went all the way to the stand of pine trees at the edge of the property. But there was nothing to be seen, other than pinecones and needles on the ground and a child’s kite impaled on one of the higher branches.

  The following nights, when she got up to go to the bathroom, as she did with annoying frequency, she would tiptoe to the window and look out. But the garden was empty each time. Eventually her curiosity flagged and the bizarre doings of that night concerned her less than what she was going to do about all the days that stretched ahead, dull and unvarying. On doctor’s orders, she was growing fatter, slower, duller, lazier, crankier!

  When she telephoned Teri to tell her about the fate of the Nova and the enforced bed rest, Teri immediately answered, “Don’t say another word. I’m there, hon.” But after she’d taken into account her schedule at the diner, a dental appointment, a birthday party the boys had been invited to and Nick’s poker game, it turned out she couldn’t get away until the first of the week.

  “But as soon as I pack the kids off to school Monday morning, I’m in my car and on the way. Watch my dust!”

  In a small act of rebellion, Hannah decided to keep the visit from Jolene until the day itself. Otherwise, the woman would insist on organizing a simple little luncheon that would escalate into a full-scale production, and Hannah wouldn’t be allowed to help with preparations, because that would be too fatiguing, but she would hear about them incessantly, which be just as fatiguing, although Jolene wouldn’t see it that way. No, Hannah counseled herself, Jolene would learn about Teri when Teri arrived. Not a minute sooner.

  By Monday morning, fall had kicked in and there was a bracing nip to the air that served as an early reminder, for those who paid attention to such signs, that ice storms that were an integral part of any New England winter. The sky, low and metallic gray, lay like a lid on the landscape. It was one of those days you were tempted to spend in bed, the covers pulled over your head. Teri’s impending visit would be a welcome antidote to the gloom.

  For the sake of harmony, Hannah figured she couldn’t postpone telling Jolene any longer, but the woman was nowhere in the house, so Hannah slipped on a jacket and went outside. The leaves on the wisteria covering the trellised walkway to the barn were dry and brittle, and she could see through them to the discouraging sky. Just as she got to the studio, she noticed that the mini-van was gone from its habitual parking spot.

  Hannah put her forehead up against the large plate glass window. The darkness inside made it hard to see, but the easel in the center of the room was empty. Jolene’s paintings were sitting on the floor, lined up against the wall. Hannah thought she recognized one of them - the bombed out cathedral with the broken pieces of colored glass. It must not have sold at the exhibition.

  Jolene and Marshall had gone on for days about how successful the evening had been - “just the best ever” were Jolene’s words - but judging from the number of stacked up paintings, Hannah concluded they’d sold few, if any. Wasn’t that the large canvas with the streaks of brown-red water running down it? What did Jolene call it? “Renewal.” Apparently, it hadn’t found a buyer, either.

  Intrigued, Hannah tried the door to the studio. It was unlocked. Just to the right of the entrance, she located the light switch and flicked it on. In direct contrast to the tidiness of the house, Jolene’s work space stood as a monument to the whirlwind. The floor wa
s littered with odd-shaped pieces of leather and sailcloth, rubber matting, felt, tacks and tin, all the detritus left over from the making of her art. Someone had made a token effort to clean up the mess, because a large plastic garbage can by the door was full to overflowing. But whoever it was had given up and left the broom and dustpan lying on the floor with the rest of the trash.

  Hannah could feel the dust and grime entering her nostrils and penetrating the pores of her skin.

  Disorder reigned over Jolene’s workbench, as well, where containers of glue crowded up against cans of paint, bottles of linseed oil and even a tin of motor oil. Paint brushes were soaking in glass jars of turpentine, but the turpentine had evaporated and the brushes were now stuck to the inside of the jars. Above the bench, the wall was outfitted with hooks for Jolene’s tools, but she made little use of them, preferring to leave the sheers and the hammers, the pliers and the chisels lying about.

  On a shelf below, a mannequin’s head caught Hannah’s attention. It had no eyes or mouth, just a ridge for the nose, and looked more like an egg than a person. She stooped down and reached for it, when all of a sudden she heard Jolene’s voice. She spun around to face the door, but no one was there. The voice was coming from the wall to her right. Not from the wall, exactly, but from behind a pile of rags and rolled-up canvases in a corner of the workbench.

  ” … leave a message after the beep.”

  She was hearing a telephone answering machine.

  “Beep.”

  “Hi, Mom. It’s Warren. What is this, another new number? You already take up a page and a half in my book. When are you and Marshall going to settle down? Okay, I’m not much better. Alaska was pretty amazing, but eight months was enough. Anyway, I’m thinking of coming for a visit over the holidays. What do you think? Give a call and let me know where you are. Bye, Mom.”

  Hannah stared at the wall in disbelief. The voice had been muted, but she was positive she had heard it say “Mom.” Twice. She couldn’t judge whether it belonged to a younger or an older man. Jolene couldn’t have a son, though. That couldn’t be.

  A car coming up the gravel driveway made her jump a second time, this time partially in guilt, although she’d been doing nothing wrong, only looking at paintings. Still, a fleeting self-protective instinct told her it was better if Jolene didn’t catch her in the studio. Flicking off the light, Hannah slipped outside just in time to see Teri’s car and, hunched forward over the wheel, mouth hanging open in amazement, Teri herself. The car came to a halt and the door flew open.

  “Aaaaaaaeeeeehhh!,” the waitress screamed, catching sight of Hannah. “Look at you! You’re big as a house! I mean, beautiful as a house. Big as a beautiful old house. Whatever!”

  Teri threw open her arms, bore down on her friend and enfolded her in an embrace. Hannah had forgotten how her enthusiasm could heat up a room - forget a room, heat up the whole outdoors- and how much she had missed it. Nothing about her friend had changed, except, perhaps, for the strident auburn highlights in her hair.

  “So, this is the place,” Teri said, looking around. “Not too shabby. You didn’t tell me you were living like an heiress.”

  “It’s nice.”

  “‘Nice,’ she says! We do get accustomed to luxury quickly, don’t we? This isn’t just nice, hon. It’s soo-perb! So what’s all this crap about bed rest? I thought you said you were swollen up like a blowfish. Show me your hands and ankles. They look all right to me.”

  “I guess the naps have been paying off. It sure gets boring, though, lolling around all day, never lifting a hand.”

  “Hon, there will come a time you will regret ever having uttered those words. So do I get the grand tour?”

  “Why not?” Then Hannah thought of Jolene, who was bound to return before long. “How about lunch first? There are some cute places in town. I’ll show you around the house and grounds afterwards. I have the third floor.”

  “A floor of her own. Get her! Let me tell you what I got of my own. Half a double bed. And it sags.”

  They decided on Sumner’s Restaurant, because it had a colorful fall display of dried cornhusks, squashes and gourds in the window, and crisp white linens on the tables. The menu posted outside showed luncheon salads starting at $12.95 and fresh corn chowder at $7.95 a bowl, which was pricier than they both expected.

  “What the hell,” Teri said. “We only live once. Might as well die poor.”

  A few minutes of conversation were all it took to re-establish the old rapport. Teri proved a font of gossip and news. The kids continued to be “holy terrors, but sweet as ever,” a contradiction that she managed to blithely overlook. Nick had received a raise, but he was on the road four and five days at a time. Just last week, the Ritters had come into the Blue Dawn Diner. Herb had a head cold, but Ruth looked exactly the same - mad! - and they’d exchanged small talk.

  Only six months ago, Hannah reflected, this had been her world. Now it seemed to exist in another dimension, sealed off from reality like a miniature village inside one of those glass balls with the swirling snowflakes.

  “Here’s the biggest news of all,” Teri announced. “Are you holding on to your chair, hon? Bobby has a girlfriend! Can you believe it?”

  “No! Who?”

  “Some pig-slut-whore from New Bedford. The thought of someone sleeping with that side of beef is more than I can stand.”

  “What is she like?”

  “Fat. Like him. I think she’s a salesclerk at one of the outlet stores. They probably met at Blimpies.”

  “Teri, that’s terrible!”

  “I’ll tell you what’s terrible! Ever since he met this whale, he’s been in a good mood. Smiles from morning to night. We never fight any more. I have no one to take out my frustrations on. Nick says I used to be a lot easier to deal with before. I’d dump on Bobby all day long and by the time I got home, I had no anger left over for Nick. Now I’m a bundle of unrelieved tension. So that fucker of a short-order cook has managed to screw up my marriage. This is serious, hon. I may have to go into therapy.”

  Hannah’s news consisted of a series of medical bulletins, which Teri took in stride, assuring her friend that the emotional ups and downs were standard behavior. It wasn’t until Hannah talked about Father Jimmy that Teri sat up, her eyes narrow with interest.

  “It figures!”

  “What does?” asked Hannah.

  “You finally fall for someone, and he’s as unattainable as they come.”

  “What do you mean, fall for someone? He’s a priest!”

  “Is he cute?”

  “I just told you he’s a priest!”

  “Priests can’t be cute?”

  “Honestly, Teri! We’ve only talked a few times. He’s a very good listener.”

  “Is he? Well, I wish I had a mirror to show you your face right now. That rosy glow isn’t just coming from the baby, hon.”

  Hannah masked her embarrassment with a giggle.

  “You haven’t changed a bit, Teri!”

  The bell on the restaurant door jangled sharply. Hannah was startled to see Jolene Whitfield standing in the entrance.

  “So it is you, Hannah,” Jolene shouted over the noise, as she squeezed past several luncheon parties caught up in chatter and their Cobb salads. “My eyes weren’t tricking me. I was coming from Webster’s Hardware and I happened to glance in the window. Aren’t you supposed to be at home, resting?”

  “Hi, Jolene. This is Teri Zito, an old friend of mine from Fall River. Teri surprised me with a visit today. Teri, this is Jolene Whitfield.”

  “Nice to meet you,?” Jolene exclaimed. “I guess this is a surprise. You should have let us know you were coming in advance. Hannah could have invited you to the house. I would have made a nice lunch. Hannah’s not supposed to be too active, you know. Doctor’s orders.”

  “It was…well…kind of last-minute on my part,” Teri improvised, with a confused glance at Hannah.

  “Would you like to join us, Jolene?” H
annah asked

  “No, I’ve got a few more errands. And you two must have lots to talk about. Old times and everything. I wouldn’t want to butt in. I’ll tell you what I will do, though. I’ll pick up something at the bakery on my way home. After you’ve finished lunch, come back to the house and we’ll all have dessert in the sunroom. That will give me an opportunity to get to know…Teri, is it?”

  “Yeah, Teri Zito. I wouldn’t want to put you out, Mrs. Whitfield.” She appealed to Hannah for reinforcement, but Jolene’s mind was already made up.

  “I won’t accept ‘no’ for an answer, Teri. It’s the least I can do. Our home is Hannah’s home, after all. I feel remiss, as it is. Don’t make me feel worse. So, have a good talk. I’ll see you both shortly.”

  Without waiting for a response, she hurriedly opened the door, producing another sharp jangle from the bell, and swept down the sidewalk.

  “A little controlling, aren’t we!” Teri said, once she was out of view. “I don’t think she was particularly happy to see me.”

  “I didn’t tell her you were coming. She was surprised. I guess I wanted you all to myself today. Jolene’s well meaning, but she has a way of horning in.”

  Teri scrutinized her friend. “Is everything all right here?”

  “Yes, fine. Okay, Jolene gets on my nerves now and then. She’s strange.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “Well, this, for example.” She held up her left hand. “She and her husband want me to wear a wedding ring in public, so everyone will think I’m married.”

  “As long as you get to keep it.”

  “I think they’d just as soon I didn’t go out in public at all.”

  “For any reason?”

  “They’re secretive. Well, no, that’s not the right word. They’re just very private people. Sometimes I think I don’t know them at all.”

  She went on to relate their late-night appearance in the yard and how the two of them had stood in the moonlight, not moving for minutes, and how they’d never once mentioned the incident afterwards. And just this morning, there was the voice on the answering machine in Jolene’s studio.