Childhood Fears

by L. L. Soares

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “I promise you, if you go ahead with hypnosis on this child, you won’t be able to practice on chimps when I’m done with you.”

  “Just do what you’re told and things will be just fine.”

  “I don’t think so—not this time.” Steven stood up and walked out the door. Diane slammed her notebook shut, and paced the motel room. The delay with the tests had killed her plans to get the diagnosis done quickly. Now her own associate held her hostage over hypnosis. Her natural impatience quickly turned to nasty temper.

  “I guess the only way to get things done is to do them myself.” She spoke between gritted teeth, as she grabbed her purse and Cathy’s file. She stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her. She drove to the hospital at breakneck speed and, parking her car in a loading zone, walked quickly into the main entrance.

  “I need to see Mrs. Keith.” Diane addressed the receptionist.

  The woman sat at the desk in the small office just inside the front door. A metal door and the elevator were the only other access points from the lobby. “I’m sorry, but Mrs. Keith left some time ago. It’s after eight and she leaves at six. Can I help you?”

  “I have to see her about Cathy Millard. Call her and ask her to come in so I can discuss my patient with her.”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s not possible. You’ll have to come back tomorrow. She’s usually in by seven.”

  “Tell her this is an emergency. I have to see her now.”

  “Like I said, that’s not possible.”

  “How dare you. I’m Dr. Wagner and I need to discuss an issue with her right now. I insist you call her.”

  The clerk picked up the phone.

  Diane sneered and turned away from the desk.

  Within a minute, the metal door opened and two orderlies stepped into the lobby. Each taking an arm, they escorted the doctor to the street.

  Diane walked quickly back to her car. Her anger bubbled under the surface. She needed to hypnotize Cathy, so she could make her diagnosis and perform her treatments. She decided to talk to Robert herself. With his permission, no one could stop her.

  Thursday, August 19, 1966

  Early the next morning, Diane left the motel and drove to the farmlands. None of the side roads had street signs, and she couldn’t find the third concession anywhere. She drove in circles for almost four hours and finally headed back to the motel, angry, hot and upset at Steven for not helping her.

  When she knocked on his door, no one answered. She called the reception desk, and they informed her that he had checked out that morning.

  When Steven called the previous evening and arranged to meet the next afternoon at the house, Robert worried about taking more time off work. After working together for over twenty years, his boss sympathized with his situation. The manager told Robert to take whatever time he needed, whenever he needed it. Robert still felt guilty about missing work.

  He sat on the porch, waiting, when Steven pulled into the driveway. “Good afternoon. How did your drive go today?”

  “Not bad at all. I love driving through the country, especially when I know where I’m going.” The doctor sat down. “You wouldn’t have any coffee ready, would you?”

  “I made a pot when you said you were coming out here. Can I get you a cup?”

  “That would be wonderful. I could use it. Thank you”

  Robert returned quickly with two cups of coffee and handed one to Steven. “I hate to be blunt, but why the urgency? Is there a problem with Cathy?”

  “No, Cathy’s fine and I’d like to keep her that way. I came to warn you. Diane intends to hypnotize your daughter. It’s a very dangerous thing to do to a child.”

  “Mrs. Keith called me about some of the tests she wanted done, but no one mentioned hypnosis.”

  “It’s her latest idea to get her show on the road. The woman is very impatient. Mrs. Keith is frustrating her right now.”

  “Alexis is just protecting my little girl. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “I agree with you, and Mrs. Keith. I think Diane is out of control. She wants to prove her abilities so badly, by fixing your daughter, that she’s not thinking straight anymore. Cathy is still just a little girl and needs careful treatment.”

  “So you don’t agree with her?”

  “No. I don’t. Actually, I know she’s wrong. I quit last night and checked out of the motel this morning. I want nothing more to do with her.”

  Robert needed a minute to think. He gulped the coffee. “Where are you staying, or are you going home? I assume you’re from New York too.”

  “I’m staying here. There’s a motel up the highway and I’ll probably stay there for now. I have no intention of leaving until there is some kind of resolution for your daughter.”

  “You can stay here if you want. There’s lots of room.”

  “That would be great if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

  “I’d appreciate the company. What do I do about Dr. Wagner? I don’t want her anywhere near Cathy.”

  “Call Mrs. Keith and tell her to fire her immediately.”

  “I’ll do that right now. Do you want to handle Cathy? Did you plan on taking her on as your patient?”

  “I don’t think Cathy murdered Emily.”

  “Would you treat my daughter? She needs someone who believes her story.”

  “I don’t believe her story. I believe Cathy believes her story. She does know what happened. It buried in her mind right now. She turned the truth she couldn’t deal with into something she could deal with—the scarecrows.”

  “You don’t believe she killed Emily?”

  “No, I don’t. I think she’s innocent.”

  “You need to talk to Walter. He headed the police in the investigation. I think he has some doubts about what happened that night too. I’d like to call him and have him join us. Would you mind talking to him? He can fill you in on what they learned during the investigation.”

  “That’s fine with me. The more information I have, the better for Cathy. I’d like to treat her. I promise you I would never do anything to hurt her. I would need to start working with her as soon as possible. I have talked to her and I built some trust. I went in as a friend of Alexis. I brought a few flowers and just had a visit. I want her to be able to talk about whatever is on her mind. I believe in her innocence.”

  “I’ll definitely arrange for you to see her regularly. First, let me call the detective and see if he can join us. Then I’ll call Alexis and have Dr. Wagner fired and give her instructions for you to treat Cathy.”

  “That works. I have to admit it. I’m going to enjoy staying here. You will probably have to throw me off the property eventually.” Steven laughed.

  “I’ll find a room for you upstairs. Let me make these phone calls first.” Robert felt a strange relief. Things were happening. In the kitchen, he picked up the receiver and dialed Walter. The detective said to expect him within the hour. He phoned Alexis next.

  “Diane, it’s Alexis Keith calling, from the hospital.” Alexis placed the call immediately after she hung up from Robert. “I need to talk to you and wondered if you could meet me at my office in an hour.”

  “I stopped in last night and did not appreciate the handling I received from your staff. You claim to be concerned about your patients, but are not available when needed.” Diane’s anger came through in her voice.

  “I’m sure we can discuss that issue.”

  “We’ll definitely discuss it. Have you approved my tests?”

  “We’ll talk when you get here.” Alexis hung up the phone. She had no tolerance for anyone who considered using methods that could harm children. She couldn’t wait to fire this arrogant bitch.

  Steven had visited her and talked to Cathy. He seemed to be a very caring
and experienced doctor. He showed interest in his patient, and to Alexis that was important.

  Chapter Seven

  August 1966

  They slid under the concrete canopy of the burned-out grandstands. Heavy rain fell, creating sloppy puddles in the dirt. The old structure provided shelter on three sides and kept the rain off. The two old men sat on crates and unloaded essentials from their duffel bags. In the corner lay a small cache of dry sticks and chunks of wood. Moving under the concrete bunker with practiced precision, they removed wet outer clothing. Within a few minutes, tattered wool blankets wrapped around their shoulders, they held their hands to a warming fire. The rusty rack balanced over the fire, held a small, worn pot. It hissed as outer moisture evaporated in the rising heat. Two used teabags plopped into the pot, and both men waited patiently for the boil. They emptied their bottles a couple hours ago. Their only hope of warmth now simmered over the fire.

  “Wonder what’s keeping Nate and Collins? Those two youngsters usually beat us everywhere. Maybe our old bones move faster in the rain.”

  “I think they were gonna grab a few ears of corn from that field back there. Food wouldn’t hurt right now. I don’t remember the last time I ate. Do you?”

  “Yesterday morning, that guy on the train shared those chocolate bars.”

  “I remember that stale chocolate. It filled the hole anyway.”

  “Rain could be holding them up, or maybe they decided to wait until dark to steal corn. They’ll be along soon.”

  “I’m happy to sit right here until this weather clears.”

  They stayed warm next to the fire and moved only to pour more hot tea. When they drained the pot, they added rainwater and, using the same teabags, generated more tea. They had been on the road for quite some time, and conversation had played out long ago.

  The hushed sound of footfalls in the wet grass brought both men to attention. They needed to rally, rather than lose everything to some poacher. It could be their friends, or not. They moved quickly into the near bush with their duffels and crouched to watch their site. The fire burned and the pot boiled. No one came near. Whoever they heard moved away from them. They waited, hidden in the bush. A splash interrupted the sound of rainfall. They looked at each other. Holding silence, they carefully made their way through the bush to a spot not far from the pond. The ground mist and heavy shadows made clear vision impossible.

  The men watched, trying to comprehend what they saw. Collins laid unconscious, facedown on the ground. Three shadowy figures, dressed in strange apparel, stood to one side. A young man lifted the traveler off the ground, and dropped him into the water. The old men watched as the four of them sauntered toward the fields north of the track, and disappeared into the dark.

  The men stayed in place for several minutes and didn’t move. They looked at each other and said nothing. One got up slowly and listened. He heard nothing and signaled his friend to follow him. They lifted their duffel bags and quietly walked back toward the grandstands. Their fire still burned, and the tea still boiled. They whispered to each other and looked around. Nothing looked disturbed.

  “I guess Nate and Collins won’t make it for tea tonight.”

  “What say we get the hell out of here?”

  “I never really minded a bit of rain, and we need a new pot anyway.”

  They moved past the grandstands, watching and listening for the intruders. Nearing the highway, their pace increased from the quiet, cautious walk to a full run. Other derelicts, squatted at the rail yards, watched the two men, wet and winded, run into their midst. The two old men dropped their bags and ducked under a small overhang. They slid down into a sitting position against the wall.

  They related their story to the other travelers and were amazed to find out most of their rail mates already knew about the pond. For several hours that night, they listened to stories about murderous scarecrows roaming the cornfields. Confused and scared, they whispered to each other.

  “Were we watching scarecrows?”

  “I couldn’t see them very well. They could have been, I guess.”

  “That’s silly. Scarecrows don’t walk around killing people. These guys are just making up stories to scare us.”

  They saw something, and realized they might have witnessed murder.

  Two constables and a prisoner wagon showed up late that evening and hauled all the transients from the train yard to the local jail. The rain fell heavily and a cold wind kicked up. The travelers, wet and cold, relished the idea of a night in a warm, dry jail and a real meal. The old men shared a cell with six others, and no one complained.

  “You know, we should tell them what happened.”

  “They won’t believe us.”

  “What are you two talking about anyway?” One of the cell mates, a young man, had a curious look on his face.

  “Did you say murders were committed by scarecrows?” The second cell mate, a black man about forty, looked serious for a minute, and then all six of the transients burst into near hysteria.

  “It’s one of those farcical stories told by old men around campfires. Sometimes the cold and wet make us a bit senile out there.” The two old men laughed along with the others.

  Thursday, August 18, 1966

  Steven and Robert sat on the porch and waited for the detective to arrive. He promised he would be there within the hour, and got to the house right on time.

  “Good day, my friend.”

  “Hello, Walter. I hope I haven’t taken you away from anything important.”

  “This is important. You told me on the phone that you and Cathy’s doctor don’t think she’s guilty of Emily’s murder. Given some new information this morning, I may agree with you.”

  “This is Cathy’s doctor, Steven Webster. He is trying to piece together what happened to Cathy that day. Steven, this is Walter Leland, the lead detective. We need to talk. Let’s head for the kitchen and I’ll brew up some fresh coffee.”

  The men moved to the kitchen table. Robert started the percolator, and soon the smell of coffee filled the room. They reviewed the details of Cathy’s story.

  “If Cathy is telling the truth, then there are either three scarecrows or three people impersonating scarecrows walking that field.” Walter shook his head.

  “I don’t think the scarecrows are the issue. She witnessed something that scared her, and she turned that fear into one she knew how to handle. She didn’t know how to deal with what she actually saw, and completely suppressed it.” Steven spouted his psychiatric explanation.

  “Somehow that makes sense. She obsessed about those damn scarecrows. She had nightmares almost every night. I took Cathy to the Lewiston farm that spring and she watched Jimmy build the scarecrows. After that visit, the nightmares stopped and she seemed fine. She talked about how silly they looked and then she’d laugh. Maybe a little fear still existed. We didn’t see it and she didn’t talk about it. She spent lots of time at the Lewiston farm after that.”

  “Why would she spend time there?” Walter asked.

  “Jimmy filled the role of her best friend. I didn’t want her to play with him. A young man, and…well, a little girl?” Robert seemed uncomfortable admitting the friendship between the two children.

  “How did he treat her? Did you see any signs of abuse?” Walter played the cop.

  “No. They treated each other like best friends. They spent time walking, talking, playing tag and catching frogs. One day Cathy brought all her books outside. They sat under that willow tree in the front yard and looked at books for hours. Jimmy loved those books. Everything seemed okay to me, and I watched them closely when they were together. I needed to be sure. I thought the whole relationship seemed off, and Clare thought it worked fine. She knew Cathy needed to have a friend, and Jimmy lived right there.”

  “Your wife went along with it?” Steven appeared to be shocked. �
��That’s really out of character for a mother.”

  “Clare told me we lived out of the way and Cathy had no friends. The only kids her age lived in the subdivision, and they bullied and made fun of her. Clare hated the kids who lived there. In her mind, brain-damaged Jimmy made a better companion for Cathy. She liked him and trusted him. My wife always went with her instincts.” Robert got up quickly and poured the coffee. He hated talking about Clare.

  “That’s interesting that she preferred Cathy play with Jimmy. I’ve never heard of that situation. Mothers are notoriously overprotective. Apparently she saw less threat in him than in children her daughter’s age.” Steven seemed fascinated by Clare’s behavior.

  Walter decided to relate the story he’d heard that morning. It did lend a slight touch of credibility to Cathy’s story.

  “We arrested the transients at the rail yard last night. The yard supervisor worried that, with the rain and them seeking shelter anywhere, someone could get hurt. We collected every transcient we could find and put them in our holding cells overnight.”

  “Do you roust them often?” Steven asked.

  “Not usually. With the weather and the concern by the yard foreman, it made sense. We picked them up at the railroad yard, and then we checked the old raceway in case some of them had hunkered down there. Jail is a nice treat for the bums. They get a dry bed and a good meal. We do the same thing when it gets really cold and blustery.”

  “That’s nice that you help them out.” Steven smiled.

  He nodded and continued. “Nobody bunked at the racetrack last night. The rumors of scarecrows roaming the cornfields and dumping dead bodies in the pond keeps the bums away until after the farmers harvest the corn.” Walter stopped talking and looked at the two men.

  Robert spoke first. “You look a bit worried. Is this story going somewhere?”