Misery (19 page)

    Annie watched him for a long time, her heavy face unsmiling, moveless, but somehow satisfied. After awhile she went away. Her tread was heavy, but Paul didn't hear that, either.

    He worked until three o'clock that afternoon, and at eight that night he asked her to help him back into the wheelchair again. He wrote another three hours, although by ten o'clock the pain had begun to be quite bad. Annie came in at eleven. He asked for another fifteen minutes.

'No, Paul, it's enough. You're white as salt.'

   She got him into bed and he was asleep in three minutes. He slept the whole night through for the first time since coming out of the gray cloud, and his sleep was for the first time utterly without dreams.

He had been dreaming awake.

MISERY'S RETUR
N

By Paul Sheldo
n

For A
nn
ie Wilkes

For a mome
n
t Geoffrey Alliburto
n
was
n
ot sure who the old ma
n
at the door was, a
n
d this was
n
ot e
n
tirely because the bell had awake
n
ed him from a deepe
n
i
n
g doze. The irritati
n
g thi
n
g about village life, he thought, was that there were
n
't e
n
ough people for there to be a
n
y perfect stra
n
gers i
n
stead there were just e
n
ough to keep o
n
e from k
n
owi
n
g immediately who ma
n
y of the villagers were. Sometimes all o
n
e really had to go o
n
was a family resembla
n
ce -- a
n
d such resembla
n
ces, of course,
n
ever precluded the u
n
likely but hardly impossible coi
n
cide
n
ce of bastardy. O
n
e could usually ha
n
dle such mome
n
ts --
n
o matter how much o
n
e might feel o
n
e was e
n
teri
n
g o
n
e's dotage while tryi
n
g to mai
n
tai
n
a
n
ordi
n
ary co
n
versatio
n
with a perso
n
whose
n
ame o
n
e should be able to recall but could
n
ot; thi
n
gs o
n
ly reached the more cosmic realms of embarrassme
n
t whe
n
two such familiar faces arrived at the same time, a
n
d o
n
e felt called upo
n
to make i
n
troductio
n
s.

     "I hope I'll
n
ot be disturber' ye, sair," this visitor said. He was twisti
n
g a cheap cloth cap restlessly i
n
his ha
n
ds, a
n
d i
n
the light cast by the lamp Geoffrey held up, his face looked li
n
ed a
n
d yellow a
n
d terribly worried -- frighte
n
ed, eve
n
. "It's just that I did
n
't wa
n
t to go to Dr. Booki
n
gs,
n
or did I wa
n
t to disturb His Lordship.
N
ot, at least, u
n
til I'd spoke
n
to you, if ye take my mea
n
i
n
g, sair."

     Geoffrey did
n
't, but quite sudde
n
ly he did k
n
ow o
n
e thi
n
g -- who this latecomi
n
g visitor was. The me
n
tio
n
of Dr. Booki
n
gs, the C of E Mi
n
ister, had do
n
e it. Three days ago Dr. Booki
n
gs had performed Misery's few last rites i
n
the churchyard which lay behi
n
d the rectory, a
n
d this fellow had bee
n
there -- but lurki
n
g co
n
siderately i
n
the backgrou
n
d, where he was less apt to be
n
oticed.

     His
n
ame was Colter. He was o
n
e of the church sexto
n
s. To be brutally fra
n
k, the ma
n
was a gravedigger.

     "Colter," he said. "What ca
n
I do for you?" Colter spoke hesita
n
tly. "It's the
n
oises, sair. The
n
oises i
n
the churchyard. Her Ladyship rests
n
ot easy, sair, so she does
n
't, a
n
d I'm afeard. I -- "

     Geoffrey felt as if someo
n
e had pu
n
ched him i
n
the midsectio
n
. He pulled i
n
a gasp of air a
n
d hot pai
n n
eedled his side, where his ribs had beers tightly taped by Dr. Shi
n
ebo
n
e. Shi
n
ebo
n
e's gloomy assessme
n
t had bee
n
that Geoffrey would almost certai
n
ly take p
n
eumo
n
ia after lyi
n
g i
n
that ditch all
n
ight i
n
the chilly rai
n
, but three days had passed a
n
d there had bee
n n
o o
n
set of fever a
n
d coughi
n
g. He had k
n
ow
n
there would
n
ot be; God did
n
ot let off the guilty so

easily. He believed that God would let him live to perpetuate his poor lost darli
n
g's memory for a lo
n
g, lo
n
g time.

     "Are ye all 'right, sair?" Colter asked. "I heard ye were turrible bu
n
ged up t'other
n
ight.'' He paused. "The
n
ight herself died."

     "I'm fi
n
e," Geoffrey said slowly. "Colter, these sou
n
ds you say you hear . . . you k
n
ow they are just imagi
n
i
n
gs, do
n
't you?"

     Colter looked shocked.

"Imagi
n
i
n
gs?" he asked. "Sair!
N
ext ye'll be telli
n
me ye have
n
o belief i
n
Jesus a
n
d the life everlasti
n
'! Why, did
n
't Du
n
ca
n
Fromsley see old ma
n
Patterso
n
n
ot two days after his fu
n
eral, glowi
n
' just as white as marsh-fire (which was

just what it probably was, Geoffrey thought, marsh-fire plus whatever came out of old Fromsley's last bottle)? A
n
d ai
n
't half the bleedi
n
' tow
n
see
n
that old Papist mo
n
k that walks the battleme
n
ts of Ridgeheath Ma
n
or? They eve
n
se
n
t dow
n
a coupler ladies from the bleedi
n
' Lo
n
do
n
Psychic Society to look i
n
ter that 'u
n
!"

      Geoffrey k
n
ew the ladies Colter mea
n
t; a Couple of hysterical beldames probably sufferi
n
g from the alter
n
ate calms a
n
d mo
n
soo
n
s of midlife, both as dotty as a child's Draw-It
N
ame-It puzzle.