1929 Book 2 - Elizabeth's Heart

by ML Gardner

  Elizabeth’s Heart

  Book Two

  by

  M.L. Gardner

  © 2010 by M.L. Gardner.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means without permission in writing from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to persons living or dead is

  coincidental and not intended by the author.

  ISBN-13: 978-1492814993

  ISBN-10: 1492814997

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  Reading the series in order:

  1929 Book One-Jonathan’s Cross

  Elizabeth’s Heart Book Two

  1930 Book-Three Aryl’s Divide

  Drifter Book Four

  M.L. Gardner Works in Progress include:

  Purgatory Cove Book Five

  1931 Book Six-Caleb’s Err

  Simon’s Watch Book Seven

  A 1929 Christmas Special (Release date November 10th, 2013)

  Reclaiming Katie

  Other books by M.L. Gardner:

  Simply, Mine

  Short Stories from 1929

  Soften your eyes toward the sad and the broken–for you never know what might have come before . . .

  They say I was born with the sight, the people who admire, question and fear me. I don’t know what I call what I have, what I see. But I have no choice when the visions come. I am a captive audience. There are those who say I am cursed, and that much I do believe. My name is Simon, but that doesn’t matter. This isn’t my story. I tell the story for her.

  Prologue

  The first time I saw Elizabeth, she was being carried in by two orderlies. She screamed, terrified. Her brown hair whipped around her face as she kicked and fought them every step of the way. She hissed, spit, and cursed. I watched, pressing myself against the cold, white wall of the corridor as they drug her past me to the wing where they kept the women. Most of us came here heavily sedated, barely aware of where we were, or who we were, for that matter. She came here awake and aware. Even in her violent panic, she must have sensed my eyes on her. She stopped fighting, her entire body flaccid in the arms of the orderlies. She looked right at me, huge brown eyes suddenly sane.

  “Help me,” she whispered and then arched her back with a primal scream, fighting again to get away. There was something in her eyes in that single lucid moment that haunted me. For days, it was her eyes I saw when I closed mine. They came with the visions and dreams. They became part of them. It was then, before I ever spoke my first words to her, that I knew I would love her. I must tell her story for it deserves to be told.

  Dreams

  I stood around the corner, waiting for my turn with the doctor. He was an old, crotchety bastard who twisted everything you said; contorting and perverting it so there was no right answer to his questions. He held the keys to get out of here, and he held them high. Muffled voices behind the door grew louder and more insistent until there was a loud shriek and a crash. I hung my head and sighed heavily. I was hoping I was wrong, and she would make it through this appointment without an incident. If she did, they would let her into the commons area for a brief period at least, and I would have a chance to talk to her.

  Two orderlies pushed past me into the room, followed by a nurse with a needle. No chance to talk to her today. The door flew open, slamming into the wall behind it, and they carried her out while she screamed and cursed. The nurse jabbed the needle into her hip as they passed me and before they were to the end of the hall, she was limp in their arms. They disappeared around the corner as the doctor called my name.

  I sat down in the chair, not too fast, not too slow. He was the kind to pick everything apart. If I sat too fast, I was nervous, scared or hiding something. If I sat too slowly, I was tired. He would suspect I was kept awake at night with visions. And that I was hiding something. Always that I was hiding something.

  “Hello, Simon,” he said without looking up.

  “Hello.”

  “How do you feel today?” he asked, now looking me over carefully.

  “Fine.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” I stared at him, trying desperately to pull off an unreadable face. He hated that.

  “Have you had any more visions?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at me. There was no right answer. If I said no, I was a liar, hiding something. If I said yes, I was still crazy, and they would shock me again. Shove pills down my throat that made me forget who I was, but even those didn’t stop the visions. They came in dream form, always proving to be prophetic snippets of what was to come. Today, I went with lying. My head still ached from the last therapy session.

  “No, not today. Or yesterday.”

  “Nothing? Not a single one?” he asked in amazement.

  “Yes. I think the new medicine you gave me is helping. I don’t even dream anymore,” I lied with a convincing shrug. I had dreamed a lot lately, and always about her.

  “Really. We didn’t start you on a new medication, Simon,” he said with a smirk. “So you’re lying.”

  “I’m not lying. I haven’t been seeing things and I don’t dream anymore.”

  He sat back in his leather chair, smiling at me, deciding. I knew what he would decide, so I wasn’t as worried today. What was awful was knowing he would decide to send me for treatment, and, even then, I would try to word everything carefully in hopes of avoiding it. It never worked. But this morning, while brushing my teeth, the room went black, and I saw myself walking back to my room under my own power. I saw her strapped to her bed, so I knew today would be uneventful. No painful shock therapy and no speaking to her. One good, one bad.

  “Are you sure, Simon? You’ve had no visions? No fortune-telling dreams? You’re not hiding anything?”

  “No,” I said tightly. “I’m not hiding anything.”

  “Why are you getting so agitated, Simon?” he asked with a twitch of his lips. I could tell the bastard was intent on finding an excuse to shock me today.

  “Well, Doctor,” I said, composing myself quickly. “I get tired of you asking me that. You may think I’m crazy because I used to see things, things that sometimes turned out to be true, but I’m not a liar,” I insisted, lying. “Wouldn’t you get tired of someone picking your brain every day, your every thought, emotion and feeling, and then calling you out on your answers? There’s no trust. Without trust, there can’t be progress.”

  “You speak well beyond your years, Simon.”

  “And how does that make you feel, Doc?” His eyes flashed and I backtracked quickly to avoid angering him. “What am I supposed to say to that? Is there a right answer? How is a twenty-one year old supposed to sound?” I sat back in the hard metal chair, struggling to control my temper. Bastard still wouldn’t answer my questions. He just sat there with that smirky educated smile of his.

  “It was an observation, Simon, that’s all. Why are you so tense?”

  “There you go again.” I blew out a long breath and looked down at my crossed arms. “I really need to use the bathroom, are we finished?”

  He ignored me and scribbled on his notepad. That sound grated on my nerves. I always wondered what he was writing about me, what he really thought, and, more importantly, when he would be convinced I had stopped having visions and let me out of here.

  “Yes, Simon, we’re finished. Come to me right away if you have any more visions or disturbing dreams, all right?”

  Yeah, right, I thought to myself. “Of course,” I said aloud. I would damn myself to hell for time and all eternity before I ever spoke of m
y visions again. To anyone.

  “Have a good day, Simon.”

  I rose from my seat, walked to the door and then hesitated.

  “What is it, Simon?” he asked impatiently, not looking up from his incessant scribbling.

  “I was just wondering,” I stopped, thinking twice, and then curiosity got the best of me. “The new admission. The girl. I was just wondering about her.”

  “Have you been thinking about her? Are you interested in her?”

  Shit, I thought and glanced at the ceiling. You brought this one on yourself, idiot. If you get shocked, it’s your own fault. I wondered briefly if the outcome of my premonitions could be changed by my own stupidity.

  “No, no.” I shook my head. “She just seems really…” I decided to let him fill in the blank.

  “She’s someone you should stay away from, Simon. Your problems, we might be able to cure those, if you do your therapy and are honest with us about your thoughts and feelings. But Elizabeth, well, I doubt that she can be helped.”

  So that’s her name, I thought.

  I looked out into the hall and back at him. “How can you say that? She’s only been here a week.”

  “Trust me, Simon. Just stay away from her. She’s not your type of girl anyway,” he said with a mocking smile.

  “And I suppose you know what my type of girl is, Doc?”

  He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it quickly, probably wanting to reference something about one that rode brooms and fancied black cats. I left before I could get myself into trouble and walked down to the commons area.

  I sat next to Ronnie, who appeared to be in a good mood.

  “Hey, Ron,” I said, sitting down on the couch next to him. The vibration spilled his drink into his lap, and he came up swinging. His fist met my jaw with a loud pop, and my head bounced off the back of the couch. He looked down, screaming with fury at the water running down his white hospital gown and then, taking a deep breath, screamed again as he lunged at me. He had both skinny hands around my throat before I could blink.

  “He’s gonna kill me! Now he’s gonna kill me!” He seethed with wild, bulging eyes, spittle dripping from his clenched teeth. I tried to pull his hands away from my throat as he threw my head back and forth, but this bastard was strong, and it took three orderlies to get him off me. They pried his fingers from my neck, and I rubbed it, catching my breath as they dragged him out, screaming paranoid delusions that the king was going to behead him for his sins.

  “Well, I didn’t see that coming,” I said aloud. A nurse jerked her head toward me with suspicious eyes.

  “Joking,” I said, holding my throat with one hand and the other up in honesty. “I’m going to my room. I think the party’s over.” The other patients cowered in the corners of the room; laughing, crying, and chewing their nubby nails. The nurse nodded for one of the orderlies to accompany me to my room.

  My luck it was David; a tall black man, wide as a doorway, menacing-looking as hell. But he had the kindest eyes, and, most importantly, he knew I wasn’t crazy.

  When I first arrived in the land of the delusional and deranged, I did as most of the others did. I fought. Angry at being trapped and out of control of every aspect of my life, I fought frequently. Our friendship, if you can call it that, began with a bang. More specifically, a punch. His fist to my stomach. They had called David after I had managed to fight my way out of the holds of three smaller, less influential orderlies. If I hadn’t been flooded with adrenaline, I would have turned and run to my bed, tucked myself in and blown him a kiss goodnight. But I was stupid. I swung and hit his jaw. He didn’t even flinch. In fact, I think he smiled. I dislocated three fingers on his iron face. I was more than willing to comply at that point, but lacked a white towel to throw. He let me know, in one convincing blow, that my fighting days were over. I lay on the floor, curled up in a ball, holding my stomach, crying like a grade-schooler. He let me writhe for a few moments and then held a hand out.

  “Now don’t make me have to do that again,” he said with a deep voice as intimidating as his stature. I nodded, and he pulled me up, then walked with me to the infirmary, shooing away the other orderlies. Since coming to our understanding, we’d become the closest thing to friends as you can have in a place where you trust no one.

  “So David,” I began as we walked down the sterile hallway. “What’s up with the new girl?” I asked in a hushed voice, keeping my eyes on the floor.

  “Crazier than the day is long, Simon,” he said as he leisurely strolled beside me. “She got two of her. Up here,” he said, tapping the side of his head and then shaking it in pity. “Why do you ask?”

  I shrugged, trying to play it down. “Just wondering. Haven’t had a new one for awhile.”

  “She’s cute.” He elbowed me, teasing.

  “She’s crazy.”

  “She might be in the commons area soon,” he said intuitively. “If she stops trying to crawl across the desk to kill the doc.”

  “Have they got her pretty sedated?” I asked, knowing the answer. He nodded, almost grimly and then stood next to my door, waiting to lock it behind me. I waited as another disgruntled customer, screaming and spitting, was dragged past us and then turned to David. I trusted him, mostly. But I always stayed just this side of paranoid, and I feared I had said too much.

  “I won’t say a word,” David whispered. I nodded and then turned away, worried to give away more of myself. I heard the loud metal clink of the lock as I lay down on my thin mattress with my hands behind my head. There was a small window with bars on both sides high up on the wall. Too high to reach, even though it was so small a toddler would struggle to squeeze through it. I watched the light fade from the room then closed my eyes and dreamed again about Elizabeth.

  The sun was warm and spring was in bloom all around us. I could smell the colors; pink buds on cherry trees and tiny, new leaves sprouting out of thin brown branches, fresh green moss on the trunks of the trees. Suddenly, the sky darkened and nervous fear enveloped us. The forest fell away, and we were on top of a seaside volcanic mountain, its top glossy black, flat and slippery. We skidded to a stop, looking down over the dizzying cliff in front of us. Small rocks tumbled off the razor sharp edge, bouncing off the jagged overhang and then disappearing into darkness. We could hear the ocean crashing against the rocks below, but couldn’t see it in the darkness. There was no moon; black clouds swirled above our heads like a whirlpool in slow motion, and small pebbles and sticks poked at our bare feet. Dogs barked in the distance, and I knew they were coming for us. She turned toward me, her back to the cliff. She never took her eyes from mine as she backed up slowly toward the edge. I called to her desperately, eying the edge she was so dangerously close to. I begged her to stop. She did, and only her toes clung to the ragged edge, her heels bouncing lightly over nothing. Her long, curly hair spilled over her shoulders and she stretched her arms out wide.

  “Come with me,” she whispered, tilted her head back and dropped out of sight.

  I woke with a loud yelp, my face covered in sweat. The expressionless face of the nurse loomed in the small window of the metal door. I didn’t need a premonition to know what would happen next.

  I felt well enough three days later to walk into the commons area. I had a mild lingering headache. Deciding not to risk upheaval over spilled water, I leaned against the wall across the room from everyone. They were huddled around the radio. It sat against the wall, encased in a wire cage. Our only link to the outside world. Was it October? Or November? I’d have to ask David the next time he was on shift. I kept my eyes to the floor, humming along with the radio show. They liked it when you hummed. It showed you were coherent enough to follow along, but not quite enough to sing. I was slightly off tempo; the buzzing in my ears hadn’t stopped yet.

  Ronnie let out a howl of excitement, and I looked up, tucking my chin to my neck instinctively. That’s when I saw her. She sat in the circle with the other partygoers. Curly bro
wn hair fell around her face, hiding it as she stared at her hands in her lap. She wore the same white gown we all wore when we first got here. If she was good, they’d upgrade it to a baggy white dress.

  She didn’t look up when Ronnie yelled, or even as they dragged him off. I ironed my face straight and argued with myself for several minutes. Susan rose and stumbled away, sobbing into her hands. Apparently, the staff forgot that show tunes upset her. That freed up seats on both sides of Elizabeth. Curiosity overrode caution, and I casually limped, thanks to overly-tight restraints, to her. I slipped smoothly into the chair.

  She didn’t acknowledge me, and I hesitated to speak; an orderly and nurse stood just ten feet away. I studied her from the corner of my eye.

  Her hair was matted and tangled, hanging in clumps off her scalp. She tapped her thumbs together lightly, and I could see dried blood along the cuticles and under the edge of the nails. Most of them tried to claw their way through metal doors and concrete walls. No one had succeeded yet. I saw her lift her head very slowly, tilting it enough to steal a sideways peek of me. Then her eyes rose up from underneath the tangled brown mass, and she met my stare with eyes that dared me to break it as we studied each other curiously.

  I sat across from her at dinner the next evening. She had washed her hands, but not yet her hair. I cursed the nurse under my breath for letting her wander around in such a disheveled state.

  “Even crazy people deserve to be clean.”

  Her eyes twitched up briefly, and I hated myself for letting her hear it. She picked at her food, so I decided that was a good place to start.

  “You should eat.” I kept my eyes on my metal plate as I spoke.