by Lisa Jackson
Almost to the landing.
Oh, God. She swallowed hard and prayed.
Steadily the tread neared, the floorboards of the upper hallway groaning in protest.
She closed her eyes. Hardly dared to breathe.
Nearer.
Oh, sweet Jesus!
The footsteps stopped.
She opened her eyes and nearly screamed.
Looming in the shadows was a dark, bulky figure.
CHAPTER 12
Abby gasped and stepped backward.
“You’re the girl, aren’t you?” a soft voice demanded. “Faith’s daughter.” The figure moved closer, out of the shadows and Abby nearly collapsed as she saw the old nun’s face, a countenance she thought she recognized.
“Yes…”
“What are you doing here?”
I wish I knew! “I was told, by my shrink, that I should come back here. You know, to resolve some issues I have.”
“Did he also tell you to trespass and break in?”
Heat climbed up her neck. “That was my idea.”
“You could have asked.”
“Would anyone have let me in?”
The nun smiled and shook her head sharply. “Probably not. I’m Sister Maria, by the way.”
Sister Maria. Of course. Abby stared at the old nun in the dark shadows and imagined how she would have appeared twenty years earlier with smoother skin, a healthy glow, more robust….
“I thought I saw someone heading over here, so I followed,” Sister Maria went on. “I’m just not as quick as I used to be, so it took me a while to catch up to you.” She cocked her head to one side. “So, then, Faith, I assume you found what you needed?”
“I’m Abby. Faith was my mother.”
“Oh…yes, of course. That’s what I meant.” She blinked as if to clear her mind.
Abby asked, “Why is the door to my mother’s room locked?”
“Locked?” the older woman repeated. “I don’t think so. None of these doors have been locked since we closed the hospital. What’s it been, nearly fifteen years? The main doors, yes, of course they’re secured, but nothing inside.”
“I couldn’t open it.”
“Swollen shut, I imagine…”
“Don’t think so.” They walked across the hall to 307. “And all the doors on this floor were closed, every last one of them, though, as you said, unlocked.”
“Really?”
“But the doors to the room on the floor below were open.”
“Isn’t that odd,” Sister Maria said distractedly, seemingly unconcerned as she tested the door. It didn’t open. “Oh, come on.” She tried again. The door held fast. “Well, I’ll be.” She gave it one more shot before giving up. “You’re absolutely right,” she finally admitted. “It’s definitely locked. How strange.”
She sighed and looked to the side.
In Sister Maria’s profile Abby witnessed a younger woman, hurrying past, skirts billowing as twilight descended and Abby passed her on the stairs…“You were there,” she said, realizing for the first time that this was the nun who had rushed to her mother’s side, felt for a nonexistent pulse in Faith’s throat. “The day my mother died. I saw you.”
“I worked here at the hospital, then. Yes.”
“I was visiting…it was her birthday,” Abby said. “I—I was bringing a gift to her.”
The old nun frowned. “You?” She focused on Abby’s hair, then her eyes. Confusion drew Sister Maria’s eyebrows into one. “That was you with the gold box and pink ribbon?”
“Yes. It was my birthday, too,” Abby said, feeling the old sadness running through her. “I’d found this afghan in a little shop on Toulouse Street. It was white with a silver thread running through it and I knew my mother would love it…” Fragmented images of that long-ago night cut through her mind. The package. The gauzy ribbon. The blood-freezing scream. Her mother’s body lying broken by the fountain as she stared down at her…
“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. I thought it was your sister, the girl with the black hair, who was carrying the box that day.” The nun was clearly puzzled. “Hadn’t you run by me on the stairs, near the landing? You were racing up as I was hurrying down, on my way to the convent. I’m sure of it.”
“No.” Abby shook her head, but felt something dark and insidious run through her mind. “That’s impossible.” Or was it? And yet she repeated her story, the one she’d been so certain was true. “I’d just gotten out of the car when it happened.” Goose bumps crawled across her skin.
As if she’d had a premonition.
But of what?
Why was the old nun staring at her so hard? What was with the unspoken accusations Abby suddenly felt simmering between them? As if she were lying. About what? The gift box? But that was silly. Abby remembered holding the bulky thing and fighting with Zoey in the car about who would actually get to carry it inside. As if it mattered. Abby had been impatient, her mind running forward to the upcoming dance and Trey Hilliard and…that was right, wasn’t it?
The nun was confused, that was all. Sister Maria had made a mistake.
And yet there was a sharpness to the woman’s dark eyes, as if she understood Abby more than she did herself. Abby cleared her throat. Forced a smile. “So you knew her, my mother?”
“I didn’t know her well,” Sister Maria answered cautiously, “I’m not certain anyone really did.” She paused and looked at the door to Room 307. “If it’s answers you’re seeking, I’m afraid you’re not going to find them in here. At least not today.” Signing, she touched Abby on the arm. “Your mother had a strong faith, child. Perhaps instead of searching through old hallways and dark rooms, you should look to God.” She motioned to the murky hallway. “This isn’t where you’ll find what you seek. You need to look inside yourself, into your heart. The Father will help you.”
Abby thought about all the hours of prayer, the sleepless nights when she’d cried and reached out to God, especially right after her mother’s accident. Where had He been then? She’d searched her heart, her mind, her soul, and all she had come up with was an overwhelming sense of despair laced with more than a tinge of guilt.
“Come now, there’s nothing more for you here. And besides, this building has been condemned.”
By whom?
The State of Louisiana?
Or the tormented souls who had resided here?
Abby hadn’t come this far to be thwarted. “I know, Sister, but I really need to visit my mother’s room before the wrecking ball destroys it forever. It’s part of my personal quest, my attempt at moving on with my life, of getting some closure about my mother’s death.” The nun hesitated. “I’ve prayed, Sister Maria, believe me. And I think God has led me here.” That was a bit of a lie, really, but Abby wasn’t beyond stretching the truth a bit, even to a nun, to get this behind her.
Maria stared at her, sizing her up. “All right, then,” she said slowly as if she wasn’t quite sure what to believe. “I’ll see what I can do.”
With this assurance, Abby allowed the older woman to shepherd her toward the stairs.
“We have a caretaker for the grounds,” Sister Maria said. “I’ll ask him to come and check the door, see if he can find a way to open it.” She offered Abby a kind, understanding smile that Abby thought was odd. How could this woman know anything about her? Or was it just her communion with the Lord that made her seem so calm, serene, and understanding? “It may take some time, Mr. DuLoc has a lot of work taking care of the convent, but he’s a very resourceful man. I’m sure he’ll be able to help.” They had descended to the second floor and the old woman stopped to squint down the darkened hallway. “I thought you said all these doors were open.”
Abby couldn’t move a muscle. She looked down the corridor and her heartbeat deafened her ears.
Every door was closed.
Shut tight.
“Isn’t that curious,” Sister Maria thought aloud and walked to the first door. “Hello
? Is anyone here?” she called out, obviously irritated.
“Who would be here?”
“I don’t know, but let’s find out.”
“No, wait!” Abby stepped forward, not certain who or what she thought would be behind the door, but she couldn’t stop the nun from yanking on the handle of 206. The door opened easily, allowing some light from a single cracked window to spill through the room and into the hallway.
Abby let out her breath. Next, Sister Maria reached for the handle of 205 and pulled it open.
No bogeyman jumped out. No one screamed, “Gotcha!” No ghost or monster or wraith appeared in a greenish cloud only to disappear.
“You’re certain these doors were open?” Sister Maria asked.
“Absolutely.”
The old nun raised an eyebrow, obviously disbelieving.
“Did you notice when you came up the stairs?” Abby asked and tried one of the doors herself. It swung open without catching. Room 204 was empty.
“I really didn’t pay attention.”
“What? But you were following me.”
Sister Maria nodded. “And I knew where you’d go, didn’t I? My eyesight isn’t as good as it once was, the hallway was dark…darker than this. I think the doors were as they are now, Abby.”
But that couldn’t be. Abby’s fear dissolved and she marched down the hallway opening doors and peering inside, leaving the one directly under her mother’s room for last. She walked to that final door, set her jaw, and yanked hard.
The door stuck.
“Come on!” Angry, she threw all her weight against the old panels. The door suddenly flew inward to reveal a room that was nearly identical to her mother’s. There was nothing in it, of course, the furnishings missing, the walls drab where the wallpaper had long ago been stripped away. A closet was cut into the wall in the same position as the room above, and a similar fireplace, some of the decorative tiles around the grate having fallen to the floor, dominated the same wall as the room above. The only significant difference was the window. This one was tall and narrow, but it was different in that there was no circular, stained-glass window mounted over the tall panes. That decorative panel, sometimes called a rose window or compass window, was only on the top floor, set into a dormer that broke up the roof line directly over the front door.
As a child in the backseat of her father’s Ford, Abby had easily picked out her mother’s room as Jacques had driven through the main gates of the hospital. That special arch in the roof and circle of colored glass below had been her beacon.
“You’re certain you didn’t close these doors yourself,” Abby said as she reentered the hallway.
Sister Maria appeared wounded. “Of course not. Listen, my memory might fail me at times, but not to that point, and I wouldn’t have lied about it or pulled some kind of prank on you. What is in question is your own perception! Come on. It’s time to go.”
Abby followed the nun to the stairs, but as she glanced over her shoulder and looked down the corridor one last time, she experienced a cold feeling against her spine, like the sharpened talon of a demon scraping down her backbone.
On the first floor, some of Sister Maria’s anger dissipated. She grabbed Abby’s hand and looked into her eyes. “You look tired.”
And she was. After waking up refreshed from the dreamless sleep, she’d thought she would be able to set the world on fire today, but this place, this dreary, old asylum with its dingy walls and dark memories, had drained the energy from her, zapped her of her strength.
Sister Maria walked her through the main door and locked it behind her. Together, hunched against the wind and rain, they started around the building, but as they reached the corner, Abby looked over her shoulder, for one last glimpse of her mother’s room.
There, standing on the other side of the glass, was a man. A big man, his features hidden in shadow. Her heart almost stopped. She spun, squinting through the sheeting rain.
“What?”
“In the window,” she whispered, pointing.
But the image was gone as suddenly as it had appeared.
Sister Maria scowled upward. “I don’t see anything. Now, come along,” she insisted in exasperation. “We’re both getting soaked.”
Abby wanted to tell the nun what she’d seen, but it seemed impossible. Rain was plastering her hair to her head and it was so dark…
“Is something wrong?” the older woman asked. “Come on!”
Abby felt as if the devil himself had grabbed hold of her heart and squeezed. Her chin chattered though she wasn’t cold. Who was the man in the window? An apparition? Just a shifting shadow that her fertile mind had conjured up as an evil being?
“Abby?”
Sister Maria was several steps ahead of her.
Turning quickly, Abby caught up with the nun.
“What is it?” the nun asked, sliding her a glance. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“It…it’s nothing,” Abby replied. “I just had to take another look.” Quickly, her Nikes splashing through puddles, she hurried along the overgrown path, through the trees, startling a squirrel that dashed into the underbrush.
Once they were through the forest, Sister Maria held open the unlocked gate, then the two moved rapidly along the fence line to the parking lot. “We don’t use that gate very often,” Maria explained. “Except when the gardener has work to do, or one of the people who are planning to tear the hospital down wants access, or when we need to chase down trespassers.”
Abby flushed. “I’m sorry. Next time I’ll ask.”
“Will there be a next time?”
She thought about the figure she’d seen lurking in the window of her mother’s room. Her imagination? A trick in the play of light? Then what about all those suddenly closed doors on the second floor? “I hope so. As I said, I think I need to see Mom’s room one more time,” Abby said, pushing aside her fears. There was no one in the old hospital. No one.
But the doors were shut!
And you saw someone staring at you! You did, Abby! You’re not imagining things. You are not cracking up!
“Who knows about this gate?” she asked.
Maria shrugged. “Except for the Sisters, not too many. As I said, there are a few who have access to the hospital now, but that’s about it. When the hospital was open, some of the staff used it, of course, but only a few of those people are still around.” She chuckled, swiping a drop of rain from her nose with the back of her hand. “You know, there was a time when we had trouble keeping people locked inside the gates, not the other way around.”
“Why don’t the people who are buying the hospital just go through the main gate?”
“Oh. That.” Sister Maria stopped as they reached the parking lot, seeking protection from the rain beneath the overhang from the garage. “They will. But the sale isn’t exactly a ‘done deal’ yet. Until all the snags are worked out through the parish and the archdiocese and the engineers and architects and the Mother Superior here, nothing will happen.”
“The hospital’s not sold?” Abby asked.
“Let’s just say ‘we’re in negotiations’ and leave it at that because I’ve probably said more than I should.” She looked at Abby again. “Are you certain you’re all right?”
I’ll never be all right, Abby thought. My mother was a paranoid schizophrenic who committed suicide by throwing herself through a window, my father is slowly dying from disease, my sister slept with my fiancé who cheated on me with several women after we were married. Once Luke became my ex, he publically humiliated me and now he and some coed are dead in a macabre, staged death scene. Oh, no, I will never be all right.
“I’m fine.”
Concern drew lines across Sister Maria’s forehead. “Maybe you should come inside.” She glanced up at the heavy clouds. “I think I could scare up a cup of tea.”
“Not necessary. Really.” Now that she was out of the creepy old hospital, she was ready to make tracks and fast.
Sister Maria’s gaze was skeptical.
“Would you call me when the lock’s been fixed and I can get into my mother’s room again?”
“You’re certain that’s what you want to do?”
“Yes!” Abby said with renewed conviction, gazing over her shoulder to the fence and woods beyond. From here she couldn’t see the red bricks of the hospital, cosseted as it was by acres of forest, where, the idea had been, the gentle sounds, smells, and sights of nature would help soothe the tortured minds of the patients within.
“Then of course I’ll call.” The rain began to pour even more heavily, slanting with the wind.
“I’ll phone the convent later with my number.”
At the nun’s nod, Abby waved a good-bye and dashed to her car, sliding behind the wheel. Through the foggy windshield she watched an amazingly spry Sister Maria sprint toward a doorway cut into the wall surrounding the convent.
Abby twisted on the ignition of her little Honda and pulled a quick one-eighty, then nosed the car toward the main road.
She didn’t bother taking the fork that jogged to the old hospital.
She’d seen more than enough for one day.
He waited as she drove away.
From the third-floor window he could see over the gates, and at one point, where the trees parted, there was an eagle’s eye view of the road. Just a short glimpse, maybe two seconds, when her car would pass, turning the corner to the main road. But it was enough. For now. Taking up his vigil, he lifted his powerful binoculars so that he was ready, would be able to catch her expression as she drove by.
It took a little longer than he’d figured, probably because of that prattling nun, the one who had a few dark secrets of her own, secrets that were so close to his own. His lips twitched at that thought. The meek woman, draped in her black habit, might seem holy to some, but he knew better.
Soon, her secret would be exposed.
As would those of the others.
He had to work fast and so he intended to step up his time schedule. Through the field glasses, he saw a flash of silver in the rain. His heart pounded and anticipation thrummed through his body. A hot rush slid through his veins as he caught a glimpse of her taking the corner too fast. In the driving rain, the Honda’s tires slid, the back of the hatchback fishtailing.