by Wendy Webb
Tension hung in the room like the thick layer of fog outside. Nobody knew quite what to say. So many questions swirled around us, questions nobody wanted to give life or credence to by uttering them. But we were all thinking the same thing. Was taking care of Alice a good idea? Was her safety at risk, not being in a care facility? The look on Gil’s face told me he was grappling with those same questions.
Finally, I broke the silence. “You should get out of your wet clothes, too,” I said to Dominic.
He nodded and turned to Gil. “I’ll be right back.”
A few moments later, Dominic gave the door a soft rap and came in, wearing dry sweatpants and a T-shirt, his feet in slippers.
Gil’s eyes were filled with tears. “Thank you,” he said, looking from one of us to the other. “I know that doesn’t quite cut it.”
Dominic put a hand on Gil’s shoulder, pulling him into a hug. Gil dissolved into tears of relief as Dominic rubbed his back.
“It’s okay, man,” he said. “She’s going to be just fine.”
“Jason would’ve never forgiven himself,” Gil whispered.
He pulled away from Dominic and made his way across the room to the kitchen and held up a bottle of Highland Scotch. “Anybody else need a drink?”
“Hell yes,” Dominic said, chuckling a little.
Gil poured three glasses of the amber liquid, dropped a single ice cube into each one, and handed them to us in turn.
I took a sip, tasting peat and salt air as it slipped down my throat, warming me from the inside.
“I just don’t . . .” Gil started, but he let his words hang there, unwilling to finish what we both knew he was thinking. He ran a hand through his hair, downed the rest of his Scotch, and poured another.
“Why don’t you flip on the fireplace?” I asked. “We’ll wait with you until Jason gets Alice out of the bath and into bed.”
Gil sighed. “Sounds like a plan,” he said. He walked over and turned on the fireplace, the gas igniting immediately and filling the room with a warm glow.
He sank into an armchair as Dominic and I took our places on the couch. None of us said anything as we watched the flickering flames. What was there to say?
I glanced at the clock. It was nearly three thirty in the morning. Gil rested his head on the back of his chair and closed his eyes, holding the ice-cooled glass to his forehead, as though it was pounding and needed relief. I could relate. As adrenaline charged as I had been just moments before, a profound fatigue had set in, and with it, a slight headache. I yawned, wishing Dominic and I could go back into bed and lie in each other’s arms until morning.
But that was not to be.
“Gil!” It was Jason, calling from the bathroom.
Gil’s eyes shot open. “Yes? What do you need?”
“Would you get a fresh nightgown for Alice? She’s ready to come out of the tub and go to bed.”
Gil closed his eyes again. “Sure, honey,” he called out, the exhaustion seeping from every pore.
I reached over and put a hand on his arm. “I’ll do it. Where are her nightgowns?”
He smiled at me. “You are such a dear. Bottom drawer of her dresser. The second room when you get upstairs. There should be a new pair of slippers, too.”
I pushed myself up and made my way up the wide wooden staircase and down the hall to Alice’s room.
I flipped on the light to see the furniture had the same Northwoods feel as the rest of the decor in the suite. A queen bed with a patchwork quilt, its headboard made of polished logs. A nightstand and dresser in the same style with black wrought-iron pulls in the shape of moose, bears, and otters. Wrought-iron lamps with shades that looked like birch bark. A woven round rug beside the bed, and a fireplace on the opposite wall.
Pictures of Alice, Jason, and their family sat in frames everywhere. I noticed one of Jason, Alice, and Gil, taken here at LuAnn’s. Nice, I thought, to include Gil in Alice’s family memories.
I slid open the bottom dresser drawer and found several flannel nightgowns, neatly folded, with a linen sachet cradled atop them. As Gil said, a new pair of slippers sat to the side.
I grabbed the slippers and the nightgown on top of the stack, intending to hurry back downstairs, but something I saw in the drawer stopped me.
Papers. Cream-colored sheets of paper—a child’s coloring paper?—folded in half. I probably shouldn’t have looked at them, but something about the sight of these papers, hidden in Alice’s nightgowns, gave me a dull ache in the pit of my stomach and a chill that ran through my veins.
I set down the robe and slippers and picked up the papers gingerly, as though they were about to burst into flames, and opened them. I had to stop myself from gasping aloud.
On the first sheet was a drawing. It was Alice, in her nightgown, standing in the lake. The sky was dark, and the streetlights gave off a yellowish hue, shining down on her like a spotlight. She was smiling an awful smile, her eyes wild. The lake reflected her image, and there, in the water, another figure was floating just under the surface. But I couldn’t make out quite what it was. A human? I wasn’t sure. In the distance, three figures stood on the street.
This was Wharton. That was Alice wading into the lake. And the three figures were Jason, Dominic, and me.
CHAPTER THIRTY
I set the paper aside with shaking hands to reveal the second sheet. It was a drawing of Dominic, with Alice in his arms, wading out of the water toward shore.
A shaft of that same yellow light shone down on them, but in this drawing, the light was filled with faces. Some smiling, some menacing. But faces, looking down on them from above.
I folded both sheets back into each other and slipped them into my pocket as I gathered up the nightgown and slippers, grabbing Alice’s robe that was hung on a hook on the back of the door as I hurried out of the room and down the stairs.
I rapped on the bathroom door. Jason opened it a crack.
I handed him the nightgown, robe, and slippers. “Thank you,” he said, with both words and eyes.
I pulled the door shut and turned to Dominic and Gil, unsure whether or not to share what I had just found. I hesitated for a moment, but remembered my conversation with Gil earlier, of Alice developing what seemed to be psychic abilities. What happened tonight—Alice ending up in the water—wasn’t really even about that, though. It was about Alice, and her safety. And these drawings entered into it, somehow.
I slipped the pages out of my pocket, eyeing the bathroom door, hoping Jason wouldn’t emerge just then.
“I found something you two need to see,” I said, unfolding the sheets.
They studied one, then the other, and then both turned their eyes to me.
“Where did you find this?” Gil asked, his voice a harsh whisper.
“In her nightgown drawer.”
Gil held my gaze. “We’ve been encouraging her to do artwork,” he said. “We’ve been tapping into some resources, people dealing with Alzheimer’s, support groups, that kind of thing, and some families told us that artwork would be soothing. You know how nervous she gets.”
I nodded. “Of course,” I said. “It sounds like a perfect idea.”
“She often says that, yes,” Gil said. “But this—”
Just then, the bathroom door opened. I quickly folded up the sheets and slipped them back into my pocket. Gil nodded, as if he knew. Jason didn’t need to see these drawings, not right now.
Jason was leading Alice, dressed in her nightgown, robe, and slippers, out of the bathroom.
“Okay, honey, let’s get you back into bed,” he said to her, smiling at us. His eyes radiated exhaustion. “It’s just a few steps up, now.”
“Just a few steps,” Alice said, not seeming to register that anyone else was there.
We watched as they made it up to the second-floor landing. Then Alice snapped her head around and faced us.
“It wasn’t my time,” she said. “It might be coming soon. I think it’s coming soon. Bu
t not today.”
Dominic pushed himself to his feet. “Good night, fair lady,” he called up to her. “Sleep well. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good night, my savior knight,” she called down to him. “Not today, right? I’ll wake up tomorrow?”
Dominic smiled broadly, though I could not fathom how he managed it. My own throat was tight and filled with sadness.
“I’ll be your date for breakfast,” Dominic said to her.
Jason led her away then, to her room. After a few minutes, he opened the door and stole out, closing it gently behind him, like the parent of a fussy infant who had just fallen asleep. He padded down the stairs.
Gil met him on the landing with a glass of Scotch. They hugged for a long minute as I watched Jason’s shoulders heave. He took a deep breath and pulled back, turning to Dominic and me.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” he said.
Dominic put up his hand. “It takes a village, man. What you’re doing, it’s not an easy road, and you have chosen to go down that road, despite the hardships that are in your path.”
Jason stifled a sob as Gil led him to the couch.
“I don’t know what to do now,” Jason said after he settled into the cushions. “How can we be sure she won’t wander again when we’re sleeping? Lock her door from the outside? What if there’s a fire?”
Dominic shook his head. “It’s simpler than that, man,” he said. “A locked baby gate on the top of the stairs. One with an alarm on it.”
Jason narrowed his eyes at Dominic and turned to Gil. “That’s not a bad idea.”
“Bad?” Dominic chuckled. “It’s such an easy fix to this problem. It will prevent her from getting down the stairs. And the alarm will alert you when she’s trying to open it. We can order one tomorrow and get it delivered within a day or so.”
Gil and Jason exchanged a glance. “Will LuAnn allow it?” Jason asked.
“I can’t imagine she’d have any objections,” Dominic said.
“What about tonight?” Jason asked. “I suppose I could sleep in front of the door . . .”
Dominic shook his head. “Nonsense. You two go to bed and get some sleep. You need it. I’m wide awake. I’ll take the night shift. I’ll stay here on the couch and make sure Alice doesn’t take any more walks tonight.”
“We couldn’t possibly ask you to do that,” Jason said.
“You’re not asking. I’m offering. And you’re exhausted. You’ll be no good to Alice tomorrow if you’re up for the rest of the night.”
Gil caught Jason’s eye. “He’s right, you know.”
“We’ll install that alarmed baby gate tomorrow,” Dominic said. “Maybe some cameras, too.”
Jason looked at both of us. “Thank you,” he said, as if at a loss for any other words. Then he turned to Dominic. “Make yourself at home.”
Gil led Jason upstairs. Soon they were closing their own bedroom door. I could feel the palpable relief in the air.
I turned to Dominic. “I’ll stay with you,” I said.
But he shook his head. “Get some rest,” he said. “I’ll just be on watch duty here, and you’ll fall asleep on my shoulder anyway and wake up with a stiff neck. And then complain all day about it.”
I smiled. He was right.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll go back to my room.”
He pulled me into his arms and kissed me, taking a fistful of my hair into one hand. I wanted nothing more than to curl into bed with him and hold on to him until morning.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I stepped into the dark hallway and closed the door behind me. I heard Dominic lock the dead bolt and close the latch. All at once, it seemed like a very long journey down the entire length of the hall to my room. I nearly turned around to ask Dominic to walk with me, but then I thought better of it. He had more important things to attend to.
When I saw that the alcove leading to room five was dark, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Okay, I thought to myself, you can do this.
It’s just a hallway.
But as I took a few steps, it felt . . . alive somehow. The air around me was pulsing. A shock of cold air washed over my face and was gone in an instant. But then I felt it wrapping around me like a coil. All at once, I was freezing.
And then, the voices began. I couldn’t make out any words, just the muffled sounds of people talking. As if they were in another room.
“Or another time,” I heard a woman’s voice say.
Just then, a light went on in one of the guest rooms, and its door opened. A man, his hair disheveled, his striped pajamas rumpled, stepped out into the hall. He visibly jumped when he saw me.
“Oh!” he said, chuckling. “You scared me. I didn’t think I’d run into anyone at this hour.” He smoothed down his hair as he looked up and down the hall. “Bathroom?”
“Second door on the right.” I pointed to it.
“Thanks,” he said, and scooted across to the bathroom. He flipped on the light and closed the door behind him.
And just like that, the spell was broken. It was a normal hallway.
I hurried the rest of the way to my room, making sure to lock and latch the door once I was inside. I hadn’t known we had any short-term guests, but of course, that was what this place was. A hotel and boardinghouse. LuAnn didn’t have to announce it to us when she rented a room for the night.
I hadn’t been in the habit of locking my door when it was just Jason, Gil, Alice, Dominic, and me. But now . . . I realized for the first time that strangers would be coming and going, a night here, a night there. We had no idea who they were. My room had been unlocked. One of them could’ve been in there, rifling through my things.
I turned on my overhead light and scanned the room, poking my head into the bathroom and closet. I peered under the bed. Nobody there.
My phone was still plugged into the charger. My laptop was sitting on the table by the window, my purse next to it. I crossed the room and opened my purse, fishing out my wallet. All of my credit and debit cards were in their slots. What little cash I had on hand was still folded in its place.
I reached into the bottom of my purse and found the small black box I had been carrying with me, but hadn’t had the strength to open since my mom’s funeral. It was still there. I exhaled.
I opened the box.
It held a delicate gold chain with a pendant that read “SISU.” It’s a Finnish word that doesn’t have a complete translation in English. It represents the zeitgeist of the Finnish people—strength, determination, bravery, courage, fortitude, perseverance. If you have sisu, it means you will not just handle but triumph over anything life throws at you.
It described my mother perfectly. She was 100 percent Finn—both of her parents were children of Finnish immigrants. When she got her stage four cancer diagnosis, she had two of those necklaces made. Gold for her. Silver for me. She knew the road ahead would be very rocky and difficult for both of us—her fighting cancer, me watching her go through it—and wanted us to remember who we were, deep inside. It was not going to be pretty; it was not going to be easy, but we could handle it, come what may.
She never took that necklace off until the day she died. I was sitting at her bedside, and she reached behind her neck, with great difficulty, unclasped it, and held it out to me, along with her wedding ring.
“These should go to you,” she whispered, her voice in tatters.
I took them from her and closed my hand around them, knowing they would be a tangible connection to her that I’d have after she was gone. I nodded at her, unable to say a word. My own voice was choked into silence by the tears that were brimming in my eyes.
“This is going to be so hard for you.”
“Sisu,” I squeaked out.
She managed a smile and nodded. It seemed to comfort her.
Later that day, I threaded her wedding ring onto the chain. I clasped it around my own neck and wore it as we dealt with funeral arrangements. I
wore it as I delivered my mother’s eulogy. I wore it at the wake as I circulated around, thanking everyone for coming, accepting their condolences. And that night, I took it off and put it away and hadn’t looked at it since. It was too painful a reminder.
But, as I stood in my pretty yellow room at LuAnn’s, it felt like the right time to put it on again.
I plucked Alice’s drawings out of my pocket, smoothed them open, and set them on the table by my computer and purse. I took another look and shuddered at the images, especially the one of Dominic carrying her, with all the faces in the shaft of light.
I crossed the room and shut off the light, peeled off my clothes, slipped into a big T-shirt, and curled under the covers of my bed. But I knew sleep wouldn’t come rapidly. Too many thoughts were swirling through my mind.
What sort of otherworldly sight had taken hold of Alice? It was as though, as her brain deteriorated because of the onward death march of this horrible disease, some other part of her mind had awakened. Was it true what Dominic said? That the veil between this world and the next was gossamer thin for Alice? It made a strange kind of sense, but how would that allow her to see what she was seeing? To know what she was knowing?
I wasn’t going to get any answers. There simply weren’t answers to questions like these. No definitive, real-world answers at least. Just like the identity of the woman who had passed away in room five, maybe the mystery of Alice’s sight was going to remain just that. A mystery. A great unknowing.
My eyes felt heavy, and I yawned, curling deeper under the covers. I smiled when I thought, I’m slipping into the in-between time.
And then I heard the singing. Soft and low, almost a whisper. It was my mother’s voice.
I snuggled down, deeply comforted by the song my mother used to sing to me when I was a child, at night when she tucked me in.
I felt her hand stroking my hair as she used to do. I could smell her perfume.
I floated there, not yet sleeping, not quite awake, drifting off to the sound of my mother’s singing as I had when I was a child. Utter and complete peace washed over me as sleep fell.
An image appeared in my mind, hazy and distant at first, but then it swam into focus. I was back in the hallway as the man who was looking for the bathroom opened his door. Had he come out of Dominic’s room? No, that couldn’t be. It had to have been the empty room next to his. Yes, I thought, as I was watching the scene play out, it was definitely the room next to Dominic’s.