by S. E. Hinton
"No. No one's there."
Jamie had been counting on that, having Grenville's voice in his head again, telling him what to do. He'd thought when he left Terrace View it wouldn't matter if he couldn't think straight sometimes... he'd hear that voice.
And he'd lied to Grenville, at Terrace View. Told him he was well and strong, as good as new. But he wasn't strong. Some of these things he had to do these days, the shoveling, the lifting, the brickwork in the basement, he didn't think he could get through it sometimes, and at night he'd ache all over....
Who'd need him in this condition? Broken? He'd be wandering the streets himself, invisible. Trying to think of somewhere to go, to find something to eat, passing people that he knew but they wouldn't see him... Even now, some people looked away when they saw Jamie coming ... and Jamie didn't blame them ... there were no mirrors in Hawkes Hall, and Grenville was used to doing without, but sometimes Jamie saw a reflection in a storefront and couldn't believe that slack-faced, frightened creature was Jamie Sommers.... Oh God, to be living on the sidewalks scared, with winter coming on....
"Are you feeling better?"
Jamie shook his head. "We going home?"
"No. We're going to Garvey's."
"And I have to get the shovel?"
"Yes."
"But I don't have to do the chanting?"
"No. Louisa and I decided that is too much for you."
Jamie looked at Grenville, blinking back the tears. Twice this man had changed his life. It could happen again. In the twinkling of an eye, like the nuns used to say. In the twinkling of an eye. Jamie was in his power still. And the strange thing was, the only time Jamie felt safe, secure, felt like he was where he belonged, was when he was with Grenville. Surely that was the craziest thing of all....
"Jamie, what on earth are you thinking when you look at me that way? And," Grenville warned, "do not answer, 'Well, nuthin',' in that inane tone of voice."
Jamie, his ready reply cut short, paused.
"Well, you know Dr. McDevitt asked me how I met you and I told him about that night I left Hawkes Harbor, and met you on the road, your car broke down and all, and you offered me a job when I fixed it, since I had nowhere to go."
"Yes. That's the story we agreed on."
"But when I told him, I really thought it was the truth. Like I remembered it happening that way. But it really wasn't like that, huh?"
"No. It wasn't like that."
"The nightmare, I mean, I used to think it was a nightmare, but it's not, is it? That's the way it really happened?"
"This may surprise you, Jamie, but I remember it as a nightmare, too. But if I let them, regrets could paralyze me."
Something in the calm tone of Grenville's voice comforted Jamie. Okay, so that was the way it happened, it was over, done is done. He sighed and looked out the window.
"Yeah, no use regretting. But remorse—remorse can make you atone."
Grenville looked startled at such an insight from such a source. He had thought along those lines himself. But Jamie went on, oblivious. "I was just thinkin', if I got that all mixed up, the most important thing that ever happened to me, what else? I mean, maybe nuthin' is the way I remember it."
"I'm not like Louisa, Jamie, with her harping on repressed memories. If you have exchanged horrible memories for pleasant ones, consider yourself lucky. If you don't remember all that has happened, perhaps it is for the best. I wish I could do the same."
Jamie rattled his Coke and got out to put the can in a trash basket, got back in the car.
"Are you feeling well enough to go into Garvey's now?"
The pills were kicking in. He felt it first at the back of his neck, like knots were loosening. His mind didn't feel wound up so tight.
"Grenville, I gotta tell you, if we're going to Garvey's—"
"For God's sake, Jamie, you must get the shovel! Let's hear no more about it!"
"No! No, that's not it! It's something bad, but it ain't my fault, I swear, you can ask Mr. Garvey! I-I-"
"What is it?" Grenville looked alert, vigilant. "Tell me!"
"The c-candles. They sent yellow ones. He doesn't have any white—I told it to him right, it's on the order, the factory made the mistake, you ask him!"
"The candles! Do you think I give a damn about the candles now?"
Jamie heard the tone, but not the words. He cowered, here it came ... he was getting fired for sure. He had his eyes shut tight. He didn't see perplexity, shame, and guilt mix with irritation.
In a different tone, after another minute, Grenville said, "You had it right on the order?"
"Yeah. Just ask Mr. Garvey."
"And you told him this was unacceptable, that it needs to be remedied?"
"Yeah, I said you'd be real pissed, to get it right the next time.
"You handled it correctly. Good job, Jamie. Now can we go?"
"Yeah." Jamie's shoulders were relaxing now, his mind felt calm and distant. Good job. He could think. His headache was receding.
Grenville started the car.
"Grenville, after Garvey's, after I get the shovel, could we stop by St. John's chapel?"
If all the nightmares were really memories...
"Jamie, it's getting late."
Jamie looked at the mountains to the west, where the sunlight was fading. He held his pill bottle like a rabbit's foot, in his jacket pocket.
"Won't take long. I just gotta light a candle. Say a prayer for someone's soul."
"Why and for whom do you wish to do this?"
"I don't know," Jamie said. "I can't remember."
Vacation
Hawkes Hall, Hawkes Harbor, Delaware July 1968
"Jamie! Wake up!"
Jamie couldn't tell if he was dreaming the voice or hearing it—on the chance he was dreaming he rolled over and pulled the pillow across his head.
It was Dr. Kahne's voice; it was very unlikely she'd he in his room in the middle of the night anyway.
He jumped to a sitting position when he felt a hand on his shoulder—any unexpected touch made his heart race.
"W-w-w-what?"
It was Dr. Kahne. She looked angry—Jamie tried to think what he could be guilty of now, but he'd taken an extra pill that night and his mind was foggier than usual.
"It's ten o'clock. Why aren't you up?"
Jamie still couldn't figure out why she was there, except maybe ...
"What's wrong? Somethin' happen to Grenville?" he asked fearfully.
He remembered now why he'd taken the extra pill— Grenville had gone to the city for a company dinner and was going to spend the night there—Jamie always got scared alone in Hawkes Hall.
It wasn't just the awful things that had happened there that he'd witnessed—it held years of horrible secrets, some over two hundred years old. God knows what had taken place within these walls, on these grounds.
At night, if he were alone, Jamie seemed to hear voices trying to whisper those secrets to him—
"No." Louisa Kahne looked at him impatiently. "Nothing has happened to Grenville. I need your help at the lodge. Why aren't you working?"
Jamie tried to remember. It was true he was usually up at seven.
"Grenville said I could have today off, since I worked Saturday. I can sleep late if I want. Me and..."
"I don't care what you were going to do, you're going to help me now. Get dressed. It'll only take a few hours."
"No," Jamie said. When he complained to Grenville that Dr. Kahne was always bullying him, Grenville said, "Louisa was born to bully anyone who'd let her. Stand up to her, Jamie. Show some backbone."
"I don't work for you, I work for Grenville, and he said ..."
"Jamie." Her voice took on that threatening tone that always made him shiver. "You are going to help me today."
He knew what was coming next, and grabbed one of the pill bottles off his nightstand, popped three tablets in his mouth, and took a long swallow from his water glass. He'd need all the help he cou
ld get to stand up to her.
"If you want to go back to Terrace View Asylum it can be arranged." She brought out her favorite tactic. "So just get dressed."
She turned and left the room. Jamie sat there a moment, thinking it was easiest just to do what she said, as usual. Then he thought, Grenville said I could have today off. He said to stand up to her, I got stuff I want to do today.
He got up and followed her halfway down the hall. She turned and looked at him, surprised to see him still barefoot, still in the worn gray sweatsuit that served as pajamas.
"I told ya before, Dr. Kahne, some days Terrace View looks pretty damn good to me. It's peaceful, at least."
Jamie quailed inwardly to see Louisa's eyes slant dangerously, her jaw jut out. He grabbed onto the stair banister, strangely dizzy all of a sudden.
"And I have told you, Jamie, if I decide to send you back to Terrace View, I'll make sure you spend the rest of your life there."
She spoke almost by rote, this quarrel a familiar rite. "What are you going to do? Pick me up and put me in the car?" Jamie's tongue felt numb. He had some fuzzy thought of just sitting on the stairs. She couldn't physically put him in the car and drive him to Terrace View.
His knees gave out and he did sit down.
"A forcible commitment order can be easily obtained. In which case I can call the police."
Jamie struggled with a rapidly fogging mind. Was she saying she'd have the police shoot him? Could they just walk in the front door of Hawkes Hall and start firing? Maybe he'd get lucky this time. Maybe they'd shoot him dead. He wouldn't have to go through all the pain, the rehab, the mental hospitals.
The crazy time.
He felt like he was going crazy again, the way he couldn't think. Tears welled up in his eyes. He wished Grenville was here. He'd protect him.
Jamie stared at Dr. Kahne, no longer able to hear her ranting.
He was still coherent enough to know something was wrong. What was it? He shouldn't feel like this. He should feel calm, detached, far away, like he was watching a play. Not like every muscle was dissolving into liquid, that soon he'd be just a puddle of flesh on the stairs.
It shouldn't be such work to breathe.... He leaned his head against the vertical railings in the banister.
"Louisa!"
Both Jamie and Louisa started to see Grenville standing in the hallway. He'd come in through the back door and now took three angry strides to stand next to them.
"I told Jamie he could have the day off."
"Grenville, I only need him for a few hours. Surely, it wouldn't hurt—" Louisa wheedled.
"I have told you before, Jamie is mi—my servant and you are to leave him to me. It does no good to frighten him into imbecility."
Jamie could tell Grenville was mad, but couldn't decide if that anger was directed at him or Louisa.
He reached through the railing and tugged at Grenville's sleeve with the little strength he had left.
"Don't interrupt, Jamie," Grenville said impatiently. "I'm speaking with Louisa."
"Grenville, I think I'm dyin'," Jamie whispered.
"What do you mean?" Grenville turned to actually look at him for the first time that morning.
Jamie's face was white, his eyes dilated.
Louisa suddenly actually saw him, too. Quickly, she stepped up to feel his forehead, took his wrist to find his pulse.
"Grenville, he's like ice! And his heart rate's dropping. Jamie, what's wrong?"
"Wrong pills." Jamie's voice was barely audible. He closed his eyes, exhausted from the effort of trying to keep them open.
"Get him into the car." Louisa suddenly took charge again, crisp and commanding. "We have to get him to the hospital. Quickly, I'll be there in a minute, I want to check his pills. I don't remember any medications that could do this."
Grenville pulled Jamie's arm across his shoulders, hauled him to his feet. He had a moment of chill surprise—surely Jamie should weigh more than this ...
Grenville barely had Jamie shoved into the backseat, had the key into the ignition, was fumbling with his seatbelt, when Louisa leaped into the car.
"Oh, dear God, hurry!" she said, and the terror in her voice made Grenville's pulse jump. "It's muscle relaxants on top of tranquilizers."
They could hear him breathing in deep, heavy sighs, with long pauses in between.
"Please!" she said. "Please hurry!"
Grenville jerked the car into gear, and for the first time since he'd learned to drive, stamped down hard upon the gas.
Grenville sat in one of the sofas in his great hall, fingers together, lost in thought.
He rose to his feet when Louisa came in, as he would for any woman.
That was one of the first things she had loved about him, Louisa thought, the courtesy over courage, like satin over steel... she shook her head.
"Honestly, Grenville, you should have a phone installed."
He ignored that remark. "You had a talk with Dr. McDevitt?"
"Yes. He said ..." Louisa broke off as someone knocked on the front door.
Grenville frowned. "I'm not expecting ..."
But Louisa, always one to take action, was already in the entry, had already swung open the door.
"Rick?" Grenville greeted his young nephew. "What can I do for you?"
"Here's your mail. I found the new mailman wandering in the woods."
Rick looked around. "Is Jamie here?"
"Jamie?"
"Yes, he was supposed to meet me and Trisha at the wharf over an hour ago, to give us another sailing lesson. We were going to do it today because he had to work Saturday. I know he sometimes forgets things...."
Grenville and Louisa looked at each other. Grenville spoke. "Jamie is in the hospital, Rick."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing serious. He got some of his medications mixed up. They pumped his stomach, the hospital assured us he could go home this evening. Right now he's sleeping."
"Great." Rick slumped with relief. "Could you tell him we'll do it whenever he feels up to it?"
"Yes, Rick, I'll tell him. It's nice of you to let him sail your boat."
Rick looked at his older relative with the sudden, hot irritation of the teenager. "I'm not being nice. You sound like Father. Jamie's teaching me to sail and he's going to teach me to drive. He's the one being nice. It's more than Father would do."
"I see. Well, I'll be sure and give him your message."
When the teenager slammed the door behind him, Louisa and Grenville looked at each other guiltily. Grenville remembered—Jamie had taught him to drive, too.
"He did have plans for today," Louisa said finally.
Grenville tried to place blame.
"I don't think it's constructive to constantly threaten him with Terrace View. Especially since you know you'd never do it."
"Jamie knows that." For the first time, Louisa was a little uncertain of this statement. "Besides, you threaten to kill him. Surely that's worse."
"He knows I don't mean it."
"Don't be too sure of that—what you said this morning— 'Jamie is mine.' You own him. That's what he believes."
Louisa could not forget Grenville's slip of the tongue this morning. Jamie is mi—She'd had such an insight into their strange relationship. Jamie is mine.
Grenville believed it. Of course, he'd owned slaves before. Indentured poor, exiled convicts. But Jamie believed it, too.
Louisa had much more experience with vampires, vampire's slaves, than did the average layman, knew much more than most researchers ... She had a classic example in front of her eyes. It puzzled her still.
Even though Grenville was now completely human, even though his strange, almost total power over Jamie was supposedly gone, both men still seemed held by the blood covenant that bound them from the first. She still witnessed examples of what had to be telepathic communication between them.
It could be nothing else. For never, she thought, had two such different men walked the
earth....
"What did Dr. McDevitt have to say? Did he confirm the prescriptions?"
Grenville knew well enough what a man under the influence of an uncontrollable urge could do.
"Yes, they're legitimate prescriptions. I received my usual lecture about how I'd had no business releasing Jamie, and this time he added how I could have ever overlooked the list of medications he'd given me at the time. He never dreamed the doctor here would prescribe anything else. He never checked on the refills because he assumed I was doing that."
"After all," Phillip had said with uncharacteristic sarcasm, "You are his doctor."
"And Jamie is welcome back at any time."
"Should he go back?" Grenville asked uncertainly.
Louisa didn't seem to hear him. "Grenville, I did have him overmedicated, sometimes it was just the easiest thing to do— things were so desperate, and Jamie so nervous, but I promise, I never, ever dreamed he was still using prescriptions from Terrace View, too."
She tried a little fake laugh. "It's no wonder he's been such a imbecile, it's a wonder he's been functioning at all.... Phillip asked me ..."
"Yes?"
"If I were certain it was accidental."
"That's absurd."
"Is it? Freud said there are no accidents.... You know, Jamie was put on suicide watch twice at Terrace View."
After a moment Grenville said, "No. I didn't know that."
"Some of these things, the pain relievers, the muscle relaxants, and nowadays they're even suspecting Valium—they're highly addictive. I'll have to start gradually cutting him back. He's going to be terribly anxious."
She paused. "Today—another fifteen minutes and he'd be dead."
Grenville sighed. He rarely gave Jamie a thought. Jamie had been the first person Grenville met in this century—if you could call that violent horror in the cave a meeting—since then, Jamie seemed part and parcel of Hawkes Hall, he was viewed as an extension of Grenville as much as the black Mercedes. So many, so much more important things had gone on in Hawkes Harbor— the removal of the curse, which had exposed a deeper evil still. Then the family, the businesses—God knows what would have happened to either of them, had not Grenville been there to step in, with money and advice.
