The Fate of Mercy Alban (24 page)

Amity and Heather shared a look, and I could tell some wordless communication had passed between them.

“We’ll stay up here, and you don’t have to babysit us,” Amity said. “But if she comes in here again—”

I cut her off. “She won’t.”

“If she does,” Amity insisted, “I’ll call you right away. And we’re locking the door in my room when we go to sleep.”

Turning to Heather, I said: “Are you cool with all of this?”

She nodded, smiling. “I’m cool with it.”

“Okay, then,” I told them. “We’re going back downstairs. If you need us, just call on the intercom. After we finish our dinner, we’ll be in the parlor.”

As we were walking down the stairs toward the dining room, Matthew stopped midway and turned to me. “How did Fate hear them?” he asked.

I frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“She said she heard the girls playing and it sounded like such fun,” he said. “If she was in her rooms on the third floor, she couldn’t have heard them—right? And didn’t you say she was locked in?”

Had she remembered the passageways from her childhood? A sense of dread seeped its way into my skin. I knew she was just a harmless, confused old lady, but I didn’t like the idea of Fate creeping around the house, listening to my daughter.

Since Jane was busy tending to Fate, I headed to the kitchen to retrieve our dessert (crème brûlée) and coffee, put it all on a tray, and brought it into the living room, where Matthew was sitting in front of the fire.

“Never a dull moment around here,” I said, setting the tray on one of the sideboards and handing him a cup.

“Have you decided what you’re going to do about her?” Matthew asked. “It’s obvious she can’t—shouldn’t—stay here. She needs full-time care.”

“I’m not sure what to do,” I admitted, sinking into a chair. “As soon as I’ve talked to her doctor in Switzerland—first thing tomorrow morning, I hope—I’ll make the decision.”

“There are lots of resources here in town, of course, and I could certainly help you find the right facility for her, but it might be best that she goes back there,” he said. “It has been her home for a half century, after all.”

“That’s what I’ve been thinking,” I said. “I may have to take her back myself. That way, I can check out the place and make sure it’s of the best quality.”

We made small talk while we finished our desserts, but after he put down his spoon, he locked his eyes with mine. “Grace, can I ask you something?”

The energy between us began to swim and bubble, and I got the feeling that whatever he was about to say was important in a way nothing else had been. “Of course.”

He took a deep breath. “What is this?”

I looked around the room. “What is what?”

“This.” He gestured from himself to me. “Us having dinner. Reading the manuscript together. Talking on the phone.”

I smiled, but a sense of dread was wrapping itself around me. I didn’t want to define what was going on—I didn’t know enough to define it—and I had the sense that calling it out, saying its name, might make whatever was happening, if anything was, vanish.

“Well, Amity says you’ve been hanging around a lot lately,” I said finally, bringing my coffee cup to my lips with shaking hands.

“I have indeed been hanging around lately.” He leaned in toward me. “About that, I’ve got something to confess.”

“I thought people were supposed to confess to you,” I deflected.

“Those are the other guys, the ones with the head man in Rome.” He grinned. “We don’t do much confessing in our church. We leave that between each person and God. Thank goodness. I really don’t want to hear that the ladies who run the church social are lusting in their hearts. That I can do without.”

I chuckled. “So what is it you have to confess to me?”

He cleared his throat. “It could easily be assumed that I’ve been hanging around because I’m simply tending to the needs of a parishioner who just lost her mother. And in one way, I’m certainly doing that. It’s my job. But if I’m going to be honest with you—and that’s also in my job description—that’s not why I’m here. At least, that’s not the whole reason.”

A tingle ran up my spine. “It isn’t?”

He shook his head. “No. The truth is, I’m here because I’m finding it very difficult to stay away.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. I couldn’t deny that I had felt something the moment I had met this man, and those feelings were growing with every encounter we had. But—a minister?

“I’m finding it difficult to stay away, too,” I admitted, but in the same breath, I glossed it over. “You’re the first friend I’ve had in this town in twenty years. I consider you a friend, Matthew. I hope you consider me one, too.”

“Friends,” he said, nodding and taking a sip of his coffee. “Is that what you’re thinking we are?”

Since he was being honest, I should’ve been, too. But I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. The truth was, I wasn’t crazy about the idea of getting involved with somebody who had the kinds of very public responsibilities a minister had. After all, I had left this town two decades ago because I couldn’t stand the scrutiny of people after my father died. That would be nothing compared to the kind of grilling I’d receive if I were dating the minister of a large church. Why couldn’t he have been a lawyer or a doctor or a car mechanic?

But I didn’t say any of those things. Instead, I said: “I don’t know. What do you think?”

He held my gaze. “I don’t know.”

“Friends is good.”

“Friends is good.” He nodded.

What had I just done?

The whole conversation was making my skin itch, so I got up and walked to the window. It only took a moment for me to realize what I was seeing.

“Matthew. Look.”

He joined me at the open window. “Is that …?”

And there she was, white dress and all. Somehow, she had made her way out of her rooms and down to the lakeshore, and built a fire inside a ring of stones. And she was dancing around and around, her spidery, singsong voice carried by the wind into my ears.

She was repeating it, over and over, louder and louder, until her voice, at first so hesitant and shaky, was strong and booming and firm.

“Matthew,” I whispered, locking my eyes with his and grasping at his arm. “She’s supposed to be upstairs with Jane.”

“She’s just a confused old lady, Grace,” he said, but the look on his face betrayed his words.

I hurried to the buzzer. “Jane? Jane! It’s Fate. She’s outside, down on the lakeshore.”

Jane was in the living room in an instant, and together the three of us opened the French doors and walked out into the night.

“
Come devil, come imp, come monstrous thing!
” Fate screamed, snapping her head toward us, a look of wild abandon in her eyes.

Jane rushed at her and took her by the arms. “You have been very naughty, Miss Fate,” she scolded, her words bringing Fate back into the present moment from wherever she had gone. “You know you were supposed to stay in your rooms. How did you get out?”

“It’s the solstice,” she whispered, her voice a harsh rasp.

And then, turning to Matthew and me. “
Friends is good
,” she sang. “
Difficult to stay away! Friends is good!
”

Caught in Fate’s gaze, a coldness seemed to take hold of me from the inside. A seeping, slithering sense of foreboding was working its way through my body, curling around my heart, slipping up my throat, and finally wrapping itself around my neck like a noose. It was fear and terror and insanity and anger all at once, all of it seemingly passing from Fate into me. Like a spell. Devils and monstrous things?

I felt Matthew slip an arm around my shoulders. I looked up at him. “I thought those passageways were locked,” I whispered.

“All right now,” Jane said, her voice stern. “Enough is enough. We’re going back upstairs. And let this be the end of it.”

She took Fate’s hand, and as she led her toward the house, Jane looked back over her shoulder. “Your mother had some sedatives prescribed during her illness,” she said softly. “I think it’s time we used them.”

I nodded, not knowing what else to do.

“Mr. Jameson and I will stay in her rooms with her tonight to watch her,” Jane continued, over her shoulder. “And you should position a policeman outside her door. She’ll not be getting out again, by God.”

The next morning, I awoke to Jane’s gentle nudging. “Miss Grace,” she said, her voice low. “Miss Grace, the doctor from Switzerland is on the line.”

I shot up, fumbling for my robe.

“I’m sorry to wake you so early, but I knew you’d want to take this call,” she said.

I saw it was seven o’clock. I hurried across the room to the phone, which was on the desk in my mother’s study.

“Hello?” I said, clearing my throat as Jane handed me a cup of coffee and set a glass of water on the desk. “Hello, this is Grace Alban.”

“Miss Alban,” said a heavily accented voice on the other end of the line. “I’m Dr. Baptiste. I’ve been in charge of your aunt’s care for nearly thirty years.”

“Hello, Doctor,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee. “As I think you probably know, my aunt was taken out of your facility by a person with no connection to this family and without the knowledge of this family. She showed up here as a complete surprise to us. I’d like to know exactly how that happened.”

He was silent for a moment. “Miss Alban, your family has been very good to us over the years, and I can assure you that your aunt was given the highest quality of care here and will be for the rest of her life. Please accept my sincere apologies for this situation and know that I launched a full investigation into this the moment we realized she was missing. I’ve been trying to contact your family for days.”

“I know,” I said. “That’s our fault, I’m afraid. It’s been a very hectic time. My mother passed away and we’ve had a lot to deal with here, not the least of which is my aunt’s arrival.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “But please rest assured I will find out who is to blame for this situation. Frankly, Miss Alban, I’m afraid that in order for her to have left this facility, someone here on the inside must have been involved, and when I find the guilty party, corrective action will be taken. You can be sure of that.”

“I’m not calling with recriminations or to cast blame. It happened, I’m satisfied that you’re looking into it, but now we need to move forward.”

“Thank you, Miss Alban,” he said. “Your aunt is on several medications. I’ll transfer those to your local pharmacy immediately. She needs these medications, and I’m quite worried she has been off them for so long already.”

I looked at Jane and mouthed: “Pharmacy number.” She hurried off to find it.

“What are the medications?” I asked him. “I guess what I’m really asking is, what exactly is her condition?”

“Your aunt is on antipsychotics.”

“She’s psychotic?” I coughed into the phone.

“A form of schizophrenia, yes,” he said. “I’m sorry, I assumed you knew and were taking the proper precautions. She hasn’t had any medication for, what has it been, a week’s time?”

“At least that. Maybe more.”

He was silent for a moment. “And you say she’s at home with you?”

“Yes.” A tingling sensation crept up my spine, and I wondered exactly where this conversation was headed.

“Miss Alban,” the doctor said, “I don’t know how much you know about your aunt’s history, but you very well could have a dangerous situation on your hands.”

“What do you mean, dangerous?” I said louder than I had intended. “You’re right in that we don’t know much about my aunt’s condition. My family didn’t know where she was living all these years. All I know is she came to you some fifty years ago and has been there ever since.”