Shadows Rise

by Denise A. Agnew

  Tears popped up in Annabelle’s eyes, but she fought them. “Tell me there have been worse times.”

  “We’ll get through this.”

  Annabelle had never intended to whine, but now it came from her loud and clear. “Strange things are happening in our country. Freedoms disappearing. Morale taking a beating. I hate to read the paper.”

  “At least we don’t have a radio here.”

  “At least.”

  “Mrs. Brady down at the dressmaker's and milliner's said the country is going to hell because we don’t pray enough. She also said some other bizarre things that make me wonder if she hasn’t gone insane herself.”

  Annabelle snorted softly. “What did she say?”

  “That Simple is possessed by the devil.”

  “Ridiculous.”

  “That’s what I said.” Penelope waggled her eyebrows, humor restored. “She said her daughter ran off with a blacksmith and no one has seen them. She said her son was found in the brothel having ... well, you know ... with three women. At once.”

  Annabelle snorted a laugh. “Three?”

  A grin eased over Penelope’s face. “Yep. She also said Reverend Poster over at the Baptist church had taken to drinking. Who knows, but that could be pure rumor.”

  Annabelle remembered the pot roast on her fork and ate it. She chewed a long time. The cook had done a hell of a job with this meal, and she couldn’t recall the last time she’d been so damned hungry.

  “Sounds like an average day in Simple,” Annabelle said.

  Silence gathered around them a long time and they ate until Penelope apparently couldn’t take the quiet any longer.

  Penelope cleared her throat and said, “The symptoms for this wave of the disease are horrible. Blood sometimes pours from the mouth and eyes and ears. Some are in agony, others in delirium. How are we going to handle that if it comes here? What are we going to do?”

  Annabelle didn’t have an answer.

  Chapter 4

  Mail call came early the next afternoon. Annabelle returned to her room, eager to read her Aunt Connie’s letter.

  Annabelle read through the letter once. Then read through it again. Her heart thudded and collided with her chest in painful contractions as she read the message. Oh, it was filled with good tiding from her aunt and uncle, but it also announced terrible news. She swallowed hard. She swallowed once more and took a huge breath. The letter slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. Closing her eyes, she rode the pain as it made a lacerating line. That one line did it all, and she didn’t care to read another sentence. Not now.

  Determined the letter wouldn’t unhinge her, she left it where it lay. She went to her closet and retrieved her coat. Time seemed drawn into a fine point as she donned the dark brown garment, pulled on a matching knit cap, scarf, and gloves, and left her room. She needed something. She didn’t know what. Solace, perhaps, but even more she wanted retreat. If her day off was ruined, at least she could clear her head outside in the fall weather.

  “Nurse Dorrenti!” The strong male voice brought her up short in the rotunda.

  Superintendent Jasper Antrim was young. He was no older than forty, and for a superintendent, that was youthful. With unfashionably long blond hair that caressed his collar, blue eyes and regular features that belonged on an Army recruitment poster, Dr. Antrim inspired many nurses to sigh. Not her.

  She smiled, but it was an effort. “Superintendent Antrim, how are you today?”

  “Exceptional. May I speak with you a moment?”

  She frowned, uncertain why he would want to speak with her when he normally conferred with Nurse Summit and not the other nurses. “Of course.”

  “Let’s go outside.” She followed him reluctantly. Once on the porch, he stopped and smiled. “I’m sorry to take your time like this. You planned a walk?”

  “Yes.”

  He brushed at some lint on his collar. Standing in the cold air with wind blowing through his hair, he did look handsome and approachable. “I don’t know how to broach this subject.”

  “When I was in France we didn’t have time to consider the subject. We just talked about it.”

  Her blunt statement appeared to give him pause. He looked a bit stunned. Finally he said, “A couple of the nurses came to me and said they’re concerned about relationships between staff and patient. It is a very delicate subject, and I could understand if you would be reluctant to give me an opinion. Do you feel there are inappropriate relationships being formed between the soldiers and any of the nurses?”

  He’s found me out. He knows about my encounter with Cade in my room.

  “No. I haven’t seen any indication of that.”

  His eyes narrowed. She was bothered because she couldn’t read him, and she’d always prided herself on understanding people’s motivations. He stayed silent for so long she wondered if he hoped she’d confess impropriety with Captain Hale. “It is unfortunate so many nurses are being led astray at other institutions by soldiers who are clearly ill. A relationship with an unstable man is never a good thing, is it Nurse Dorrenti?”

  “I’m sure it would help the nursing staff if we had a clearly articulated outline of what is deemed inappropriate.”

  His eyebrows went up. “It is outlined in the rules already, Nurse Dorrenti. Haven’t you read them?”

  “The rules say that nurses and patients will form no inappropriate friendships. I can understand how we wouldn’t want romance forming between two people. But friendship? Is that a bad thing?”

  “I suppose not. Friendship is clearly definable from romance, don’t you think?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I hope you’ll feel comfortable coming to me if you see damaging relationships forming. It could besmirch the reputation of this establishment and undermine the health and well being of everyone here.”

  She’d never liked drama, and this man managed to inject it whenever he could. She could walk a fine line in the name of self-preservation if she must. “Of course.”

  He smiled, a golden beam of sunlight, but fake as anything she’d seen. “Adieu then, Nurse Dorrenti. Enjoy your walk.”

  Adieu? She smirked and shook her head. He turned and went back into the building. A ball of misery wound up inside her. Tension gathered in her neck and she rubbed it as she headed down the short steps. If she didn’t get to see Jasper Antrim again for a while, it would be too soon. Could one of the other nurses have talked about her? And why would they go directly to the superintendent and not Nurse Summit? Nurse Summit would speak to her if she disapproved of her conduct.

  Aggravated, she headed to the one place outside the asylum that gave her peace. Annabelle sauntered toward the grassy area where old pines had once stood. Winter kill last year, she’d heard, necessitated that the asylum cut down the trees. They’d replaced it with a square of grass, and three benches sat in a row next to each other on one end. The three concrete benches were carved with the names of those killed during the strange events of 1908 and the ten years previous. Under each name, a tribute.

  * * *

  Dr. Masterson Healy

  Superintendent

  Tranquil View Asylum

  1888-1908

  * * *

  Patricia Healy

  A soul once lost is lost no more.

  * * *

  Nurse Oleta Franklin

  Kindness, strength, wisdom.

  * * *

  Thirteen other names were listed on the third bench with Nurse Franklin, all victims of Patricia Healy and her father, Masterson Healy.

  She settled onto Oleta’s bench, grateful for thick skirts and a long coat to cushion against cold. She tugged off her hat and allowed wind to sail through her unpinned hair. Tilting her head back, she enjoyed the breeze. She’d considered a trip into Simple, walking the long mountain road to get there. She had sturdy boots for the trip. At the last minute, she’d decided against it. Then the letter had come.

  She closed her eyes an
d inhaled clean, cool air. Winter would come soon to this high-altitude, and she wouldn’t be able to enjoy this in relative comfort. Wind ruffled her hair once more, a whispering sigh. Aspen leaves nearby rustled, as if telling her tales. Peace found her here, but unease did, too. Nearby, a bird chattered. A squirrel answered the call, raucous and unhappy. A stronger breeze darted around the trees, dancing and brushing her skin with cold fingers.

  Then it came—that horrible feeling she’d encountered the night Cade had shown up at her room. Once more, the wind swirled, teasing around her feet like a cat. It twined and touched. She shivered as a screaming fear took hold. No man could ever put this fear into her—only this. Whatever this was could make her want to run screaming like a mad woman if she allowed it. She glanced around and twisted on the bench. Nothing altered the forest. The sun was shining and aspen and pine leaves were talking.

  The sun dimmed as a flurry of clouds raced over the sky. Everything stilled. For. One. Second. Fear became a miasma and curdled in her stomach like rotten milk. She hovered there in the sick place, no air moving, no darkness and no light. Then the wind caressed, like a hand. The cold, hard hand of death. Her heartbeat quickened, her mind frozen for one stark, razor-edged moment. Her breath caught as the hair rose on her neck. Her body and mind shrieked for her to leave—to escape while she still could.

  “Good afternoon.” A deep voice rumbled nearby. “The forest is a live place, isn’t it?”

  Annabelle practically shot out of her skin. “What—”

  Cade stood nearby, to her left. His long military coat was buttoned against the cool temperature, and he wore his boots. He wasn’t wearing a hat, and the wind fluttered lightly through his rich hair. As it always did, her pulse quickened at the sight of him.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “No.” She didn’t hold back the sarcasm in her voice, nor the displeasure in having her quiet interrupted. “You never do. Did you learn this stealth in the Army?”

  “I learned it when I was a little kid. I had an older brother who liked to torment me. Worked as an escape. I grew up near Black Forest near Colorado Springs. Do you know it?”

  “Yes. A beautiful pine forest.”

  “That’s the place. My parents built a huge house outside the tree line on the west side of the forest. Where did you grow up?”

  “Near Denver.” She frowned. “Did you say your brother tormented you?”

  “Quite a change in subject.”

  “Just answer the question,” she said softly.

  “He didn’t know how to show me brotherly affection, apparently.”

  “And now?”

  “He’s dead.”

  His statement punched her in the stomach. She held in the shock and allowed it to swirl around in her mind and body for a good minute. He’d lost his brother and his sister? “The war?”

  “Something much worse. His paramour’s husband shot him. Then the man killed himself. He left the woman alive.”

  “Oh.” What could a person say to that? “I’m so sorry.”

  “Jacob didn’t know when to stop. He lived on an edge of danger all the time. He wanted to join the Army with me, but he was blind in one eye and they wouldn’t take him. He decided if he couldn’t fight in war, he could find adventure another way. It caught up with him.” There was no coldness in his voice, but a distance she could understand.

  “Do you blame yourself?”

  He shook his head. “My family tried to help him. We couldn’t.”

  Her throat tightened. “So much death. I ....” She left the sentence hanging, unable to articulate.

  “My brother was one of the meanest damn people I’ve ever known. I wish he could have found another way to live.”

  “Your older brother?”

  “The oldest. I’m the next in line, and after that there’s my two little sisters—” His breath sucked in. “My one little sister, Arleta, is sixteen. I have a little brother Henry who is twelve.” He paused and pinned her with a glare. “Velia was twenty-one.”

  God. Had he come here to harangue her again? She almost got up and left, but she saw something in his eyes that stopped her. “I know.”

  Silence was their companion for a short while. Wind ruffled her hair again, and she placed the hat back on her head. “Did you get permission to come out here?”

  One corner of his sinful mouth turned upward. “Nurse Summit said I could.” He moved around the back of the bench slowly. “She said it would be good for me. Said I was starting to look pale.”

  As he settled on the bench next to her, she almost shifted away. There was enough room for two people to sit on the bench, but barely. “You’re skin looks like you’ve been outside a lot.”

  “That’s a relief. I knew I could get the right diagnosis from you, Nurse Dorrenti.”

  Anger rose up. “Are you being sarcastic?”

  He crossed his arms and stretched his long legs out in front. “Yes.”

  “You’ve been told to stay away from me.”

  He tilted his head back and appraised the sky where feathery clouds drifted in a race across the heavens. “I’ve never been much for following rules.”

  “The Army is full of rules.”

  “That’s why my father insisted I go in the military. He didn’t like how I was turning out.”

  She thought about that. “So you’re a rule breaker.”

  “Most of the time.”

  “Yet you survived the Army. You must have fit in.”

  One corner of his mouth turned up. “Did I?”

  Exasperated, she didn’t like her reaction to him and to the conversation. She felt challenged, angry, and yet invigorated in a way she hadn’t been in a long time. A flutter of heat pooled in her belly. She didn’t like what that meant, either. She couldn’t be attracted to this man. It made no sense, and it couldn’t go anywhere. Not with everything standing between them.

  “I think I enjoy seeing that spark in your eyes. Like you would hit me with something if you could,” he said.

  “Why are you even talking to me when you hate me?”

  “I don’t know.” His dark eyes held equal pain to what she felt inside. “What’s haunting you today?”

  She almost got up and walked away.

  “I received a letter from home,” she said.

  He sat up, leaning closer. His own frown showed warm concern, and his eyes no longer mocked. “Sad news?”

  She sighed. Damn him for reading her mind. “Yes and no. My aunt was just telling me all about my cousin Benedict. Benny for short. He ..." She swallowed as words locked in her throat, a jam of tears she refused to admit. “He’s dead.”

  “Your cousin?” His frown deepened. “Were you close?”

  “We grew up together. He was my cousin on my father’s side of the family.” She fumbled to explain. “He was killed in France a few weeks back.” She shrugged. “Well, everyone assumes he’s dead. His been listed as missing for weeks.”

  Tears threatened, pushing against her eyelids. She refused them freedom because she couldn’t allow this man who had so much against her to revel in her sorrow. She closed her eyes. A warm, masculine hand covered hers, and she gasped as her eyes flew open. She didn’t look at his big hand covering hers, but deep into the dark, tortured understanding in his gaze.

  “I’m sorry.” The hush in his voice quieted the agonized voice within her. “Where was he in France?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Fucking France.” Passion laced those two words. His gaze snapped to hers. He looked down at his hand touching hers and snatched it back like she’d burned him. “I got a foul mouth during the war and haven’t cleaned it up yet.”

  “I’m used to it.”

  “The soldiers at the asylum?”

  “Yes and no. My uncle is very good at swearing. When he gets angry and rages against anything and everything, you can be sure it’s peppered with curses.”

&
nbsp; He winced. “My parents taught me better than that.”

  “I have been known to let loose with a curse or two if the occasion seemed to call for it. You should have heard the expletives that came out of my mouth when that man’s head almost rolled over my feet.”

  He laughed, and its low timbre vibrated that hidden spot deep within her, touched her as his hands had touched her when he’d kissed her. Her face flamed again.

  “Back to France. Do you hate it?” she asked.

  “No. It’s a beautiful country destroyed by war. I traveled to France when I was ten with my parents. I didn’t want to go to France once the war started because I knew it would never look or feel the same again to me.”

  “France is extraordinary if you see past the carnage. The damage.”

  “Yeah. But I didn’t have time to see past either one.” Bitterness turned casual words into weapons, as if he meant to refute Annabelle’s wisdom.

  That shouldn’t surprise her. She still didn’t trust why he was with her now, or why he’d touched her hand and tried to give her comfort. The ache inside her hit deep. “My cousin was a good friend. I’ll never forget him.”

  His gaze returned to hers, and this time pain glittered within those depths. “We’ll remember every last one for the rest of our lives.”

  She knew he meant Velia, and those damned tears started to eat her alive from the inside out. She sighed with resignation. “I knew a man in France like you. Handsome. Confident. Filled with life. Until he wasn’t.” She swallowed hard again, with a spasm of misery that grabbed her by the throat.

  “Were you involved with him? A soldier?”

  “He and I ... we didn’t acknowledge anything. We didn’t pretend there was any point. I knew that if he died I would be in too much pain. So I didn’t care too much.”