The Vicarage Bench Anthology

by Barbour, Mimi

  A crowd had already gathered on the sidewalk, and the perplexed vicar, in need of assistance, gestured to several of the men to come over to the bench.

  “What’s up, Vicar? What’s wrong with the bloke? Is Carrie all right?”

  “Shush! Call an ambulance. Mr. Parks has collapsed. Miss Temple is coming around, but she’s ill, also. I don’t know what happened. I’d decided to take my afternoon stroll, as it were, when I came across these two sitting on the bench together. I couldn’t pass them by without saying hello, but before I had a chance to speak, Mr. Parks stiffened and moaned and started to fall over. I tried to catch him, but I couldn’t hold him. He’s a large man.” The vicar rambled on, his voice squeaking with nervous strain.

  * * *

  “Ooohhh! Vicar! What’s happened? I feel strange.”

  “Yes, Miss Temple, I can see that.” The vicar, pulled in two directions at once, dithered back and forth between the body of the man sprawled on the ground and the traumatized woman whom he’d known since she was a child. He ultimately settled on Carrie and sat on the bench beside the ashen girl. “You’re extremely pale, my dear, and you’re trembling.” He clutched her shaking hand and patted it consolingly. “I think you’re unwell, but don’t upset yourself, there’s an ambulance coming. Mr. Parks has passed out, and we need to get him help.”

  A young man from the crowd bent over the fallen man and used his fingers to check the pulse in Rhett’s neck. He nodded to the vicar, whose expression lightened.

  “I have not passed out. I’m right here. I’m… What the hell is going on? How can I be here and my body be lying over there? Where am I?” He looked down and saw a blue dress draped over the skinny knees in front of him. The hands he held up were slender, with long fingers and beautifully manicured nails. A small pinkie ring adorned one hand and flickered with the smallest diamond he’d ever seen.

  “What in blazes is going on?” He could have sworn he’d bellowed out the words but the sound he made was weak and feminine and whined more than it roared. “Is this some kind of joke?”

  “Not at all a joke, Miss Temple. Not for poor Mr. Parks, it isn’t. The man’s out cold and hasn’t moved a muscle since we found him.” The vicar was elderly and clearly disturbed. “Mr. Parks buried his father this morning, and I’m wondering if he isn’t suffering a form of grieving trauma. I thought him a cold, uncaring man at the graveside, but this teaches me a lesson. People suffer in many different ways.”

  The approaching ambulance’s siren made talking difficult as it screeched to a stop in front of the bench. Two conscientious attendants bundled the fallen man onto a stretcher and carried him to the back of the ambulance. The vicar pranced alongside, providing the driver with the facts of the peculiar incident, embellishing them somewhat.

  “Vicar, would it be possible for you to come with us to the hospital so you can describe to the doctors exactly what happened? Miss Carrie might appreciate your support, also.” The paramedic appealed to the vicar’s sense of responsibility toward one of his flock.

  “Of course, my boy. I don’t know as how my slight knowledge of the incident will be of much use. It was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. The man just keeled over.” The prattle continued as he disappeared into the front of the waiting vehicle. Being the center of attention, a favored role for the vicar, made his day.

  By the time the paramedics turned to a befuddled and nauseous Carrie, her fear of hospitals had kicked in. She tried refusing to go along but was compelled to stop arguing. A strong force from within had taken control of her senses, and in no time she found herself next to the talkative vicar in the front of the ambulance. His loud tone trying to override the screeching vehicle wasn’t helping her looming migraine.

  “Doesn’t the old geezer ever shut up?” a cynical voice inside her head stated clearly. She shut her eyes and willed herself not to think in such a manner. It wasn’t very Christian-like.

  Soon she was sitting in the nondescript Emergency Area, waiting to see the doctor. She was aware of a strange, unwanted presence raging inside her. She tried restraining the force, but her power was like a leaf in a tornado. Speech resonated, echoing in her head. To cover it up, she started carrying on a conversation with herself—babbling. “I’ve lost it. I’ve finally cracked. I knew it would happen sooner or later, what with all the pressure I’ve been under recently. Now it’s happened. I’m bonkers, a raving lunatic. I suppose I’ll be dribbling next, smashing my head into the wall and playing with my hair, drooling…”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake, stop it. Your chatter is driving me crazy.”

  “Hold it! I’m thinking. I’m not talking out loud. You have no right to shush me in my own bloody head. Oh, God. I am mad.” Both hands slapped over her mouth as if to stop it from moving, except it hadn’t…

  “If you are, then I am, too. Trust me, we aren’t crazy. I don’t know what occurred earlier, but the term ‘weirdly bizarre’ comes to mind. I seem to be lodged in your body, while mine is out cold.”

  “Well I don’t like it. Get out!”

  “Sure thing, no problem. Just tell me how?”

  “I’m insane. I might as well sign myself into the asylum. It’s from those monsters at school. I knew they’d do me in.”

  “You aren’t insane—a bit silly maybe, but not crazy. So stop thinking it. We have to put our heads together and figure a way out of this mess you got us into.”

  “Our heads are together, you idiot, and I’ll think any bleedin’ way I want to. Heavens, listen to me. See what you’ve done—I’ve never talked to anyone like that before in my life. You’ve gone and made me dreadfully testy.”

  “You’re testy? I’m fu…”

  “Don’t you even think that in my head. There’ll be no swearing, or I’ll shut you off somehow. Do you understand me?”

  “Fine, sorry. Think about it, though. I’m stuck in here with you, but my body is in trouble, and I have no idea what to do or how to get back into it. Maybe we’re both mad.”

  “I don’t see how I can help you. Imagine me trying to explain to anyone that you’ve left your collapsed body and decided to roommate in mine.” She chortled, sounding like a witch. A woman sitting next to her, moved. “Crikey, I’ll be locked up, for sure.”

  It was amazing how clearly defined his remarks were from her own. Having a conversation with another person inside her mind swiftly became as comfortable as talking on a phone to a voice heard from inside a receiver.

  “There must be a specialist we can talk to. Someone who could help us! You have to try.”

  “Me? Why me? I’m not the one who’s vacated a perfectly good body. You talk to someone. You try to explain your predicament. I’m out of it.” Her innate tendency to stay away from the spotlight triggered her resistance.

  “Wait a minute, don’t do that. Don’t shut down. I need you to help me explain.”

  “I can’t explain what I don’t understand. For heaven’s sake, I did nothing.” Snivels and sniffs burst forth as her lips quivered and her control wavered.

  “Stop it! Don’t you dare cry! I can’t stand blubbering women.”

  “I’m not crying. I’m scared. I don’t understand what’s happened to us.”

  “I know. I can’t figure it out, either. Neither of us did anything to instigate this mess. Let me think on it for a while, before we draw any attention to ourselves.”

  “Right! I don’t want to be locked up in a padded cell. Especially if you insist on tagging along.” Her backbone stiffened. The posture, and all it represented, gave her courage.

  “Like I have a choice?” His droll sarcasm broke through her reserve. Her face crumpled and a small grin appeared.

  “Miss Temple,” called the vicar, bustling towards her. “The doctor would like to see you now.”

  She shot to her feet. “About Mr. Parks? How is he doing?” God, she hoped he’d started to come around, so she could say goodbye to her inner guest.

  The vicar patted her clenched
hands. “They’re examining him now, but it seems to be a quandary all around. So far, they can’t find any reasons for him to be in this state. Can you come this way, and I’ll take you to the doctor’s office. They have a few questions for you, as well. I’m sorry I must leave you here alone, Carrie. I have evening services at the church.”

  “Of course, Vicar. I’m thankful you came along when you did. You’ve been a wonderful help.” She walked slowly at his side, feeling surprisingly weighted down.

  “Busybody, you mean.”

  “Wonderful help. I’m so grateful.” She reiterated in an argumentative voice.

  “I did hear you the first time, my dear. I was pleased to be of assistance. If you should have need of me in the days ahead, you’re welcome to call at the church or the vicarage.”

  Taking his proffered hand, she squeezed it gently as she shook it. Since he was leaving, she wanted him to be aware of her sincerity and her gratitude. He was a dapper little man, fussy, talkative, but also extremely caring, and he’d always been kind to her and her grandmother. She waved to him as he turned back, hesitation registering in his face. He moved on.

  “Humph! Old fool!”

  “Stop that. He’s a sweet old man, and he did try to help us.”

  “For all we know, he’s the one who put a hex on us and left us in this condition.”

  “Don’t be daft. Why would he do that?”

  “I don’t know. Why has this happened? Nothing adds up. Look, let me do the talking when the doctor arrives.”

  “Only if you make sense and keep calm. Remember, it’s my mouth the words will be coming out of and me who’ll wear the disgrace if you lose your temper.”

  “I never lose my temper. I’m a rational, controlled man.”

  “We’ll see.” She waited by the open door of the office the vicar had indicated.

  A distinguished older man with short white hair and bushy eyebrows approached. His white coat flapped open with every step as he rushed toward her. “I wondered if it was you, Carrie, when I saw the name on the accident report. How’s your grandfather? Has he been following my instructions and taking his medication?”

  She grinned, raised her eyebrows and twisted her head to one side. She didn’t need to say a word.

  The doctor grimaced, shook his head, and then gestured her into the small office. He waved at her to take the chair while he perched on the edge of his messy, paper-laden desk.

  “I understand you were with Mr. Parks this afternoon when he collapsed?”

  It was time for the switch, and Carrie figuratively stepped back and let Rhett use her voice.

  “Yes, doctor. We didn’t know each other. In fact, I’d never seen this woman before in my life. I…”

  “Excuse me? Did you say ‘woman’?” the doctor interrupted. Carrie’s voice had lowered and become unexpectedly harsh, a change that tweaked the doctor’s interest. His eyes were now riveted to Carrie’s face.

  “Sorry. I’m a bit flustered. I meant to say ‘man.’ I’d never seen the man before. I, uh—he was sitting, minding his own business, happy with his own company, feeling perfectly healthy when she, uh—I came along to cut a silly twig from the rosebush behind the bench. I felt faint and sat down on his bench, and the next thing I remember is, uh—reviving, with everyone gathered around us, uh—me.”

  “Miss Temple. Your voice has changed dramatically, and you seem flustered. Give me your arm, and we’ll take a blood pressure reading. How is your general health? Any problems lately?”

  “She—I’m healthy as a horse, no problems. Doctor, what is happening to Mr. Parks? I want to see him. Now!”

  The doctor’s eyebrows rose. “I’m sorry, Carrie, but it’s out of the question tonight. We’ve slated him to be examined by some specialists. He’s in ICU and will most likely be moved to a ward tomorrow. You can see him then.” His soft tone indicated a soothing response to her curtness.

  “Intensive care? Is his condition serious? What in the world would cause a perfectly healthy man to pass out?” The sentence ended with the last words being shouted.

  The doctor continued to stare at Carrie, concerned by her strange behaviour, while within herself she smirked at just how well her new, very close friend was handling the situation.

  “Miss Temple, if you just met this man today, how would you know about his health?”

  “He—he looked healthy. Good God, man! I have eyes. He looked to be in his prime.”

  The doctor’s eyes narrowed as he stared at her. “Yes, actually, I think you’re right. So far we can’t see any reason for him to have passed into a coma, but I assure you, we will be running a lot more tests, and I’m confident the answers will be found. Meanwhile, I’ve contacted his brother, who is making arrangements to get here as soon as possible. Don’t look so worried, Carrie. We’ll take good care of Mr. Parks.”

  “But, a coma! What causes them?”

  “There are many reasons, a few being heart problems, stroke, and diabetes—in fact, we have many avenues to search.”

  “It sounds serious.”

  “Yes, Carrie. It certainly is. In the meantime, I want to check you out. I’m concerned with your handling of the situation. You seem quite stressed.”

  “Dr. Gray, I feel fine. There’s no need to examine me.”

  “On the contrary, my dear, I believe there is every need, and I insist.”

  Chapter Two

  “I wanted to stay at the hospital. Why in blazes are we leaving? Go back there at once.” Carrie was waiting at the hospital entrance for a taxi, a luxury in which she seldom indulged.

  She experienced his frustration and antagonism throughout her system, with the most brutal of the emotional tempest swirling in her stomach, where acid churned painfully. If she didn’t get relief soon, she would scream.

  “Look I’ve had about enough of you. You have invaded my space. I’ve tried to be accommodating, but I’m more tired than I can ever remember. I’m scared, but I’m hanging on with the last itty-bitty piece of sanity I have left. Because of you, I’ve undergone a physical, which I hated. Dr. Gray’s now positive I’m addled and my mental state needs further investigation. Worst of all, my stomach has flames shooting everywhere, like a lightning storm is rampaging through my tummy, and if I don’t get antacid relief soon I’ll be fainting. We can come back to the hospital tomorrow if you like, but tonight—I’ve had all I can take.”

  Rhett explored his clairvoyant abilities. If he melded his senses with hers, he had the ability to pick up on her physical traumas and could feel her pain. Her complaints were justified. The woman was in extreme discomfort.

  “You silly girl. Why in the world didn’t you say something before this?”

  “I tried to. When I wanted to go and eat, you threw a fit. I told you I was hungry.”

  “You whined, you didn’t tell.”

  “You didn’t listen. All you cared about was tormenting the poor doctor with questions he couldn’t answer, and then you started yelling at him—using my voice, I might add—and you scared him silly. I was never so embarrassed. Under no circumstances would I act in such a manner. And then, not satisfied in upsetting Dr. Gray, you had to tear strips off the other doctors he introduced us to. Everyone looked at me like I was daft.”

  “A bunch of incompetent professional morons, if you ask me. They had no answers. Did you notice that? Not one could give me a credible reason for my passing out. Not one!”

  “I don’t want to hear about it anymore. I’m finished. I’ve had it up to here with this whole business.” Her right hand slapped her forehead, her right foot stamped the ground, and a scowl settled over her face. Just then Carrie spotted a woman staring at her, an expression of bewilderment clear on her features. The stranger backed away and quickly retreated to the hospital.

  “Oh, God! All I want to do is go home and go to bed. I only pray that when I wake up from this nightmare, you’ll be in your own body and I’ll have my peaceful life back.”

  “So
peaceful you instantly jumped to the conclusion you were having a much deserved breakdown? I remember how you reacted when you first realized I was inside your head.”

  Vexation stirred her nervous system. Heat flared and her insides clenched and tightened. She was jumpy, on the brink of a major fit, and she knew he felt it when he said, “Oh, hell, do what you will. I haven’t much say in the matter, now do I?”

  He pouted! She sensed it. He had the unmitigated gall to pout. She ignored him. The taxi ride turned into a tranquil oasis for Carrie. Curled into the black cab’s back seat, she closed her eyes, blanked her mind and almost fell asleep. Far too soon they arrived at her address, where she paid the driver from her hoarded stash of coins. Then, uneasily, she approached the older, well-kept, terraced home her grandparents lived in and crept to the front door with her key in hand.

  “Woman, why are you skulking, if this is where you live?”

  “Shush, don’t bother me right now, and don’t call me ‘woman.’ My name is Carrie, as you well know. I want to sneak in and dodge the inquisition. You have no idea what my grandparents are like. They fret about me, and even though I telephoned to Nellie, our neighbour, to bring them my message that I’d be late, they’ll still expect a full explanation.”

  “For goodness’ sake, tell them you’ll enlighten them tomorrow—tonight you’re tired.”

  “Right. You don’t know my grandfather.” Carrie gently twisted the knob and stepped into the cool, dark hallway. A distinct odor of fried chips wafted through to the doorway. Her grandfather’s strident voice rang out from the kitchen, where the only light in the downstairs area shone weakly.

  “Confound it, Miss, so you’ve finally decided to come home. Where were you? Your grandmother made me wait forever before she’d agree to give me my supper. Dotty woman was worried you’d starve. As if that made me any less hungry. Come here! Tell us what you’ve been up to. Shenanigans, no doubt.”

  Carrie wearily trudged toward the room warmed by the oven’s heat. “I’m sorry, Grandfather. A very ill man collapsed on the bench outside the vicarage, and I helped the vicar take him to the hospital.”