Echoes Through the Mist: A Paranormal Mystery (The Echoes Quartet Book 1) (22 page)

Another week drew to a close and Julian was slowly getting dressed to receive what promised to be the last of those who lined up outside in the brisk November weather to thank him for his efforts.

He was pulling on his boots with some effort when a light knock came at the door to his sick room. Ailís Dwyer in taupe slacks and a cream colored silk blouse stuck her head in. To Julian she was as beautiful as when he had first seen her. He doubted she would ever look differently to him. She asked if he had a moment and with a smile, he motioned her to come in.

She explained that the faithful had been let into the kitchen to warm themselves with cups of tea and that they wouldn’t mind if the audiences were a bit delayed. Julian could tell by the way she avoided his gaze that something was very wrong. There was something palpable in the air around her. He knew the feel of her presence. Another presence was in attendance, another Ailís.

She looked at the state of his boots and knelt down to help him by tying his bootlaces. It was a touchingly tender act he felt. She straightened the tongue of his boots, tied the laces and pulled his pant legs down over the boot tops. Although her chestnut colored hair obscured her face, he felt the seriousness in her. She finished helping him and drew a chair to the side of the bed on which he was sitting. He smiled encouragingly and waited.

“Julian, I have a confession to make,” she began.

“Ailís, would you like me to send for Father Fahey? My powers of absolution are rather limited even though I am a saint.” He smiled and she returned his smile, but only half-heartedly.

“No, there is nothing Father Fahey can do for me I’m afraid. It is a confession I have to make to you only.

“Do you remember – oh, it seems like quite awhile ago – you came to me and explained how the people of the district needed me? You told me all about the high esteem in which they held me and a lot of other things about the people here abouts. Do you remember? You told me a lot of lovely things – lies mostly – but they came when I was down and needed a kind word.”

He smiled again and said, “When you and everyone else thought I was crazy – most of all you? Oh, yes, I remember – and no, there were no lies. It was in my truthful phase.”

“Yes,” she said, “that’s the time. Well I have to confess that I am a coward.”

“You, Ailís? You must be joking. Never you,” he answered emphatically.

“Oh yes. While you were telling me that everyone loved me you showed a remarkable amount of courage by telling me that you were fond of me in a special way. I remember it clearly – you took my hands in yours and said that you had come to care for me a great deal.”

She reached out and captured his bruised hands in hers and looked into his eyes for the first time since she entered the room. Julian luxuriated in the soft warmth of her hands and the delicate fragrance that seemed to emanate from her. When his eyes met hers, he felt an ominous weight and the smile died on his lips.

“I should have told you then. Oh, there have been plenty of other times that you’ve expressed the same feelings for me and never once did I give you the answer I should have.

“Julian, you are a dear man in so many ways.”

He suddenly felt an unreasonable tightness in his stomach and chest. Blood thundered in his ears in time to his racing heart. She was about to say what he least wanted to hear and there was nothing he could do to stop her. He pleaded for some intercession – “Please don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t,” he repeated to himself. And then she did.

“But there can never be anything for us. I have tried to pretend it was different. I have tried to live a make-believe life, but I can’t – we can’t,” she continued. “I am your doctor and you are my patient and no matter what I may feel, that is the only relationship we can have. You are here only for the short term and then you will return to America. That is a parting I do not want. It is not one I could endure.

“There is Timothy to think about too. He is very fond of you. He not only likes you, but he admires and trusts you and I won’t let my entanglements break his heart. I am sorry for leading you to believe anything else. It was selfish and cowardly of me. In another time in different circumstances, I feel we might have made something, but it simply won’t work as it is.

“That doesn’t absolve me. When given the chance to act with courage I was unable to rise to that occasion and say what needed to be said.” Tears brimmed in her eyes while Julian felt every ache and pain return and all of the strength leave his body.

She let go of his hands and stood. She raised her hand to caress his face. He longed for her touch, for the intimacy, but with his spirit in agony, he turned away.

“Julian…”

He didn’t know where he found the voice for it, but he said, “Thank you for telling me, Doctor. I appreciate your being candid with me and I know that this wasn’t easy for you to say.”

Ailís Dwyer closed her eyes for a moment then turned and left his room slowly.

Julian sat on the edge of the bed, for how long he did not know. At last, he stood and made his way to the parlor to listlessly receive his visitors whose coats smelled of wet wool, peat smoke and ashes.

***

Timothy had been ushering the waiting guests into the parlor from the kitchen. After several of the villagers had come and gone, Julian called Timothy. “When you bring the last of them in, would you please go find Mr. Maher and ask him to come and see me right away? Tell him I need his help.”

“Yes sor. Is it something I can help you with?” Timothy asked.

Julian smiled wearily and answered, “No, Timothy, but it is very kind of you to offer.” He looked into the boy’s face and saw Ailís Dwyer’s eyes and smiled. He glimpsed the curve of her mouth and her broad, clear forehead. Julian ached as he felt his soul auger into his own private purgatory of lonely despair.

The boy looked at him questioningly and Julian realized he was staring at the boy and smiling a sad smile. Timothy, with luck, would never need to understand.

***

Julian leaned heavily on Sean as the big man assisted his friend to the police station.

“Are you sure this is alright with the doctor? You’re weak as a pint of that filthy Mulherin’s watered beer.”

Julian winced as he walked, which Sean took for a smile, but otherwise Julian did not answer.

The big Irishman poured Julian into bed, then lit a fire in the fireplace. When he returned Julian was asleep. Sean covered his friend with a blanket and left feeling in his bones that something was very wrong.

***

Jimmy Grogan came by in the evening and found Julian in a rocking chair with a blanket around his shoulders in front of a guttering fire. Jimmy stoked the fire and cut some peat into manageable sizes. Julian sat in a lethargic silence staring vacantly. Jimmy also went away knowing something fundamental in the universe had changed and not for the better.

***

Moira Hagan entered the police station without knocking and found Julian sitting on the bench just inches from the fireplace. His face was flushed with the heat from the fire, but he felt neither hot nor cold.

“You are causing concern,” the Hagan said.

Julian’s expression never wavered as he said in a whisper, “Sorry.”

Moira’s eyes narrowed. “It has to be altogether obvious if that lummox Maher and the whelp Grogan think there is something ailing you aside from your injuries. That both of them screwed up the courage to come and see me is a testimony to the anxiety you’re causing.”

In a voice that sounded very far away Julian said, “I suppose we all suffer from our own injuries, no?”

This was not the Julian she had come to know, the one she had worked with for months, the one she had come to love in her own way. She could sense a little of that Julian but there was something else, a profound aching sadness she knew well.

She moved forward, took Julian by the arm, and led him to a rocking chair. She took the chair next to him and asked, “What has happened? Tell me now, what has happened to you? Where are you right now?”

“Sadly, Moira, I am right here. Although I am always happy being in your company I think I will go lay down now and sleep.”

“Are you in pain? I’ll go fetch the doctor.”

“No!” he answered too quickly. “I mean no. I’m fine and don’t need a doctor.”

Moira Hagan knew in a moment what she should have known at first glance. “I’ll leave you,” she said. This she did and marched at the double to the surgery of Dr. Ailís Dwyer.

***

“What have you done?” Moira Hagan spat at the doctor

“What are you doing here? I’m with a patient. You can wait outside,” Ailís answered with heat in her voice.

“You,” Moira pointed a boney finger at the patient and barked, “You’re cured; now get out!”

Edmond Brady was seated on the examination table with his shirt off when the thought struck him that it would be a very good idea to go along with the witch’s advice and take himself elsewhere. He was suddenly feeling ever so much better and almost anyplace had to be healthier than this place right now. He snatched up his shirt and was gone before the doctor could protest.

Moira Hagan let the door slam behind Brady and the two women were alone in the examination room; a room that was about to become a lot less clinical, sterile and professional than it had been a moment ago.

The women stared at each other for a long time before Ailís Dwyer looked away and said with misery in her voice, “What do you want?”

“I want to know what has happened. I am not going to leave here until I know everything that went on between you two. More is riding on this than you could ever know – for him, for me, for you, for all of us,” the Hagan said with force.

“He was falling in love with me – as simple and as complex as that. It isn’t something that would have done him any good. I should have ended it sooner, but it was such a pleasant thought and I felt so good when I knew he was nearby. Still, I should have been stronger. My nerve failed me. Now I’ve done it – I’ve ended it and it is better this way,” Ailís said as the sleepless nights suddenly caught up with her.

The Hagan never stopped looking at Ailís, but the older woman’s face softened somewhat. “Tell me no lies, girl. Do you love that man?”

“It isn’t as simple as that…”

“It is every bit as simple as that. Now answer the question. Do you love him and be quick with your answer.”

“I will only answer that I won’t love him,” Ailís said and defiance entered her eyes and set her mouth.

“You will let fear kill your chance at love? You will let your heart grow small and cold? You will deny yourself what you deserve.” Moira stepped closer saying, “Don’t do this. I made the choice you are making and I have asked myself why every day of my life since.”

“I have no choice.”

“Ah, but you do. Life is full of choices. Let us hope that you are given another chance to choose a different path. I have traveled the one you are on now and I can tell you that you will not enjoy where it takes you. No one ever has.”

***

Sean Maher and Mayor Cahill came to visit the saint of Cappel Vale, but the saint seemed to be in no mood for visitors. Julian said, “Enter,” as his guests approached the station door.

Mayor Cahill approached Julian, “You’re famous my boy. Ach, and isn’t it your fame that will be spreading quick as that?” The mayor snapped his fingers and looked pleased.

“Meaning?” There was a snarl in Julian’s voice and Sean detected it immediately.

“Me meaning is a simple one. There is a story unfoldin’ here in our little village and we are sore in need of a good story that draws in visitors.” Julian’s eyes narrowed and Sean went on a higher state of alert.

“Why, there is danger and intrigue, hearty stalwarts like our friend Maher here. There is the handsome, valiant stranger and,” Cahill said with a wink, “yon fair young widow with her charmin’ child. Oi’m tellin’ you all the elements are…”

Julian rose quickly from the bench by the fire not feeling the pain the movement caused and crossed to the mayor’s chair faster than Sean could react. Julian placed his hands on both arms of the chair and leaned in close enough to smell the hard boiled eggs and cabbage on the man’s breath. Sean rose slowly and Julian stilled him with a look.

“Listen to me Cahill, you can say what you want about me, about this village and its people. Tell the story with accuracy or make it up out of whole cloth. I don’t care. I will say this as plainly as I know how; mention the doctor and it will be a story that will be remembered always because it will be the last story you ever tell!”

“Julian!” Sean said. He had never seen his friend upset by anything. He wasn’t upset now, he was murderous.

“Have I made myself understood to you, Mr. Mayor?”

“Perfectly your honor,” Cahill stuttered and swallowed hard trying to get his breath. “Oh, my, look at the time will you. Sean, it would seem we have stayed over long. Shall we?” Thomas Cahill, with eyes pleading for any sort of rescue, turned to Sean Maher.

“As you say, Thomas, perhaps we should be taking our leave.”

Julian returned to the bench by the fire as Sean Maher and Thomas Cahill left in silence.

Julian walked slowly to Moira Hagan’s house with the help of a cane Father Fahey had loaned him. He rapped sharply at the door and heard her call his name in welcome.

“It is good to see you up and around. Sitting by yourself in the dark only leads to freezing out your friends and threatening mayors it seems,” Moira said.

“I’m here to work,” was all Julian said.

“No, you’re not. You are here for revenge. The question is on whom, eh? Do you have an answer to that?”

“The men who did this to me won’t catch me unaware again. Now, will you help me or not.” Julian framed it as a statement rather than a question.

“Ay, I’ll help you, but I’ll not stop questioning your motives.”

***

Bobby McMaster’s lips twisted into a cruel snarl. Dunla, Brendan Maher’s dog, was tied to the tree outside the schoolyard as Sister Eugenia had instructed. The nun wanted Bobby McMaster to have no more excuses.

A blanket had been laid in a hollow between two tree roots and the dog was content to wait for her master. She was protected from the wind on three sides and could easily keep the schoolyard in view. Her coat, lovingly brushed every morning and every night glowed in the dull sunlight. Dunla had no reason to fear Bobby McMaster, but she was alert to his movements.

Without warning McMaster reached into his jacket pocket and hurled a large lump of coal at the dog. She raised her head in reaction and dodged the first rock only to move into the path of a second projectile. It caught her right eye and Dunla yelped. Bobby McMaster stepped closer to the stricken dog as she tried desperately to escape the tether that held her fast to the tree and her attacker.

McMaster, smiling and laughing, now let loose the third and largest of his lumps of coal that he had taken from the coal scuttle at school. The piece struck Dunla in the ribs and she fell to her side. McMaster moved in picked up the same rock now covered with blood and fur and smashed it into her side repeatedly until she moved no more.

***

Brendan heard Dunla’s yelp across the noisy schoolyard and began to run. He vaulted the rock fence and ran quickly to his dog’s side. Her fur was matted with blood and her tongue lolled limply from her mouth into the dirt.

With infinite care Brendan removed the rope from her neck and gently picked her up. Tears coursed down his cheeks as he ran to the doctor’s house. He kicked at the door and Dr. Dwyer answered quickly. She assessed the situation quickly and led the way to her examination room where Brendan lay the dog down.

“Please! Save her, please. Doctor, please.” Brendan managed to get out through strangled sobs.

Ailís Dwyer was not unaccustomed to dealing with animals. She took out her stethoscope and listened carefully.

“I need you to step outside, Brendan. Do it now” she said.

“No, please” he managed to say between gasps for breath.

“Yes, Brendan. I need room to work.” She ushered the boy to a chair in the hallway as Timothy ran into the house and up the hall. “Stay with your friend, Timothy. He needs to keep out here.”

Ailís closed the door and moved to the examination table. She knew immediately that the dog was beyond anything she could do. She touched the animal’s side and felt the broken ribs.

Dunla shifted her head slightly, exhaled once through her nose and died.

Gently the doctor began to clean the wounds where bits of bone protruded. Pressing them back under the skin, she began suturing and covering the stitches as best she could with the surrounding fur. The eye lay against Dunla’s muzzle. The doctor replaced this too, cleaned the area and stitched the eye closed.

Dr. Ailís Dwyer sat on the stool and patted the soft fur of Brendan’s best friend and softly she began to cry. She ached for the emptiness Brendan would feel when she had to tell him that she had done everything she could, but that Dunla was gone. She threw back her head and tried to suppress the sobs that shook her shoulders over her own losses.

The examination room door opened and the doctor stepped out into the hallway. Brendan and Timothy stood there, but any flicker of hope disappeared when the boys saw the doctor’s face.

“Brendan…”

“Oi know” the boy said simply. Tears welled in his eyes. “Thank you” he stammered. Brendan walked past her into the examination room, lifted Dunla into his arms and settled her for the last trip they would take together. He came into the hall and both of the Dwyers bowed their heads as Brendan passed. Timothy moved to follow his friend, but Ailís stopped her son.

“Let’s give him time.” They walked to the front door slowly and looked up the dusty street in time to see Brendan Maher disappear into the woods west of the village.

“Thank you for trying. Oi know you did your best,” Timothy said. “But Oi need to go.”

Ailís nodded her head and let go of her son’s shoulders.

Timothy took off at a run, not in the direction Brendan had gone, but toward the police station and Julian Blessing.

***

“Come quick, Mr. Julian. There has been a murder!” Timothy shouted.

“A murder – who, where? Let’s go.” He grabbed up his cane, but hadn’t made it as far as the flagstones leading to the road before he stopped, clenched his fists and shut his eyes tightly. Timothy looked back in alarm when he heard a strangled cry escape from between Julian’s clenched teeth. “Please God, not that!”

He sighed in resignation as he watched the scene unfold. He fell to his knees in the dusty road, covered his eyes and wept. The sobs shook him as he witnessed Dunla’s death.

He felt Timothy next to him and knew the boy’s jumble of emotions. Julian reached out, and drew the boy to him. He was still kneeling in the street,

From the doorway of her practice Ailís watched the scene unfold before. She felt his heartache as Julian reached out and drew her son to him. She witnessed the man she loved and the child she adored.

Still on his knees, Julian wept until he had no more tears left to give.

Leaning on Timothy, Julian made the best progress he could. His ribs ached and burned with each step. They reached the tree and silence pervaded the area. The schoolyard was empty and the school was hushed.

Julian saw the three lumps of coal and picked up the smallest of the three. The coal dust came off on his hands and he brushed them on his pants as he surveyed the place of Dunla’s execution – in his mind, there was no other word for it.

In that moment he felt it, he watched it happen again in more detail. And he saw clearly Dunla’s executioner. And he saw more, much more.

Julian picked up the dog’s blanket and covered the bloody ground. After kicking the three stones under the blanket, he looked down at his hands and at Timothy standing beside him looking expectant. Coal dust permeated the crevices of Julian’s still raw hands.

“Timothy, go back to class and tell your teacher you were helping me. Tell her I will explain later.

Julian stayed near the tree and let the scene play out until he was able to stop it. He entered the school and knocked lightly on Sister Eugenia’s classroom door. Puzzlement crossed her face as she opened the door. Julian followed the nun inside. The smell of sweaty children was pervasive in the closed, overheated space and Julian wondered if smell had always been the same throughout time.

He cupped his hand and whispered into the nun’s ear. She turned her head and looked at him. His face was set and his eyes were ablaze.

“Bobby McMaster. Come here. Now.” Julian’s voice was level and low.

“McMaster! Are you somewhat hard of hearing?” Sister Eugenia barked.

Julian’s eyes locked on to those of Bobby McMaster. The boy’s eyes never wavered and the sneer never left his lips. Julian looked into the boy and what he saw frightened and sickened him.

“Come here, boy,” the nun said and McMaster rose, pocketed his hands and shuffled to the front of the room. Julian pulled the boy’s hands from his pockets. Coal dust was etched deeply into both hands and under his fingernails.

“What does this mean, Mr. Blessing?” the nun asked. Julian only answered with another question.

“Warm day don’t you think, Sister? Too warm for the likes of Mr. McMaster here to be wearing a coat indoors.” Julian grabbed Bobby’s jacket and pulled it open, pinning the boy’s arms to his sides. His shirt was spattered with blood. The class gasped collectively. Gwyneth Kirby looked terror stricken. Next to her sat the empty desk of Brendan Maher.

“He used lumps of coal to stone Dunla to death while she was tethered to a tree.” Julian said simply and without triumph.

Bobby McMaster broke away from Julian and the nun.

“Yes, Oi did it and Oi’m glad the bitch is dead. Oi’ve had orders from an important man. More important than you’ll ever be. Oi’d do it again, orders or no. You should’ve heard her whimper!” McMaster called out as he ran from the room laughing.

***

When Julian came out of the school Sean Maher was kneeling in the dirt under the tree where Dunla died. He had called for a rake and smoothed the dirt taking care to cover the dog’s blood. He had picked up her blanket, folded the stains to the inside and set it on the nearby stone wall that partially surrounded the schoolyard.

Julian expected his friend to have a lethal anger, but such was not the case. He felt a sadness beyond words tighten around Sean Maher’s heart.

“Timothy told me Brendan went into the forest. Have you seen him?” Julian asked.

Sean shook his head no.

“Let’s give it awhile and then we’ll go look for him. It wouldn’t be good for him to be on his own tonight, you agree?”

Again, Sean Maher nodded his head.

“We’ll have a pint and then we’ll go looking, alright?”

Sean didn’t trust himself to speak. He just nodded again and followed Julian to O'Gavagan's Pub. Once inside Sean stood at the bar looking straight ahead unaware of the murmured condolences the other patrons offered.

These were farmers, men who understood the value of a working animal. Dogs were just another farm tool, nothing more and nothing less. But to these men, Dunla was more, far more because Brendan Maher was far more.

Sean continued to stand, unmoving. His beer sat on the bar untouched. A deep sigh escaped him before he said, “Tell me Julian, how does this happen? What power makes monsters and puts them among us? And a child, how could a child be so twisted.”

“It is an illness, Sean. That’s all – an illness.”

“Oi won’t accept that. A wee creature that never did anyone any harm and brought nothing but joy and companionship to me boy – and you say an illness snuffed out its life? The ability to do that sort of thing just happens without warning?”

“No, it doesn’t just happen. Someone with this sickness builds up to it and it goes on building and growing with increasing violence. People like this need help.”

“’Increasing violence” is it? Ending the life of an innocent creature in so brutal a way isn’t enough? Is anything ever enough for a disgusting little bastard like that? And what help is there that will ever make ‘em right? Tell me that, Julian. Tell me there is a way to mend someone who would do such a thing?” With tears in his eyes Sean Maher faced his friend and said, “Please, Julian, for the love of God, tell me.”

Julian seemed lost in thought for a moment before he touched his friend’s forearm. Julian knew he couldn’t speak the words. His words soundlessly entered his friend’s mind.

Sean looked startled and confused, but Julian stilled his friend’s thoughts.

“Shhhhh, hush, feel the words.”
Julian thought and paused.
“Please believe me, Sean, if there was a way I could change any of this I would. If I could reach in and take this sorrow from you and from Brendan, I would gladly take it on myself and I would never say a word.

“There is no sense to be made of any of this. Bobby McMaster is a monster as you say and I do not believe there is any way of ever repairing him. I believe his is an illness from which he will never recover. I don’t know if prison is the answer or a hospital is a better place. All I know is that he must be placed somewhere from which he will never be released and from which he can never escape – not just because of this, but for the crimes that will surely come.

“That boy will become a man and his sickness will grow just as surely as he does. He is not someone that you or I will ever understand. He needs to inflict pain. He needs to cause and then observe agony. He places no value on the lives of others beyond their ability to feed his hunger to inflict suffering.

“I lied to you in the hope that I could relieve your anguish. I told you the boy needed help as though such help was available. I don’t believe it is. He suffers from something that puts him far beyond redemption.

“But you and Brendan and me and all of us have in one way or another been changed by this brutality. We will live and grow. It has made us sadder, but it will in all likelihood help us to become more human while Bobby McMaster will become less and less so until he is gone altogether.

“He is a great sadness, but he is not someone to be pitied. Neither is he someone to be hated. Emotions of any sort are wasted on him. We must work out a way to identify and protect ourselves from the Bobby McMasters of the world and that we will do.

“Now let’s go find Brendan and bring him home. He needs to be with his people.” Julian said aloud.

Sean continued to stare at his friend, comforted by the words and confused by how he came to hear them in his head. At last, he said, “And his people need to be with him.”

When they turned to leave, all the other patrons rose and shuffled to the door. By the time Julian and Sean made it outside there were twenty stalwart, silent men standing outside O'Gavagan's. With a nod given and acknowledged, the group moved off into the forest west of the village and began their search for Brendan Maher.

***

The searchers swept the wood thoroughly and found no trace of Sean’s son. If the boy had been there once, he was not there now and the dispirited men returned to the village as the sun set and darkness settled on Cappel Vale.