“Holy crap, where did you get that thing?” Sylvia said.
“I had an old boyfriend who was a cop,” Heather said. “He may have been a total doofus, but, he did fix me up with some pretty killer swag. So…, if you aren’t going to join me, do me one favor at least. Don’t call the police. If they show up, I could get in real trouble for having this taser on me. It is not legal for the public to carry these and Todd could get fired if they find out he gave it to me.”
Sylvia paused and after a long sigh said, “Is there no way I can talk you out of going?”
“None,” Heather said.
“Well…,” Sylvia said. “I know I am going to regret this…., but, I guess I am going to have to go with you. You need adult supervision!”
Heather smiled and said, “Wonderful! You won’t regret it, I promise. And you are so right, I do need adult supervision. Thanks, Mom!”
Chapter 32
August 4th, 1976 - 115 West 73rd Street, Suite D - New York City, New York - 2:30 PM
The window air conditioner in Dr. Thomas Marstens’ office was running hard. The compressor was working overtime with a high whine and a steady hum. The temperature outside was brutal. The heatwave that had gripped the Northeast by the throat since early July was relentless and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. With the temperature topping the upper 90s every day, it was if New York, still recovering from the extravagant Bicentennial festivities on July 4th, had caught a fever and it had yet to break. Waiting patiently, as well as nervously, in the chilly waiting room, were Vincent and Marie Padovana.
“Vinny, are you sure we are doing the right thing? I mean…, this is so, I don’t know, unorthodox,” Marie said as she clutched her husband’s arm. “It doesn’t seem right. What if something goes wrong? What if it doesn’t work?”
“Tom knows what he is doing,” Vincent said. “You know he is the best psychiatrist in New York. Hell…, he is probably one of the best in the world. If anyone can help our little Sylvia, he can.”
“Well…, yes, I suppose you are right,” Marie said. “But, I don’t know about these methods he is using. It seems so…, unnatural. I mean, she doesn’t remember anything now.”
“That is a blessing,” Vincent said. “We should thank God every night she can’t remember what happened.”
“But, what are we going to tell her? She is ten years old. She is going to eventually ask questions — about her childhood, about where she was born, about her baby pictures. How are we going to—”
“—It’s all been arranged, Marie,” Vincent said. “I have a few friends in the courthouse, and, with Tom’s signature on the birth certificate, for all practical purposes it will look like she was our natural born child, a healthy baby girl born to Vincent and Marie Padovano at New York Presbyterian. We kept everything we could the same, where practicable, so, it is all set.” He turned to her and held her hands in his. “You always wanted a child of our own, right?”
“Of course, I did! You know I have prayed and prayed for this.”
“Well, God has provided.”
“Of course, but…, there is no shame in being adopted, Vincent. Lots of children are adopted. Even President Ford is adopted! I don’t understand why you and Tom insist on all this cloak and dagger business. It’s not right. It makes us seem like criminals.”
“Marie, we can’t take the chance. We can’t risk her birth parents ever finding her.”
“I know you said they were bad people,” Marie said.
“Oh, they were bad people, all right. You weren’t there, Marie. You didn’t see what we saw.”
“If they were as bad as you say, I still don’t know why you didn’t call the police? I wish you would just tell me what really happened. I am your wife, and now, Sylvia’s mom and you and Tom are hiding things from me! I won’t stand for it. I have a right to know!”
“You do have a right to know, I know that. But, Marie, this is for your own protection,” Vincent said. He looked into her eyes and added, “You just have to trust me on this. We couldn’t call the police. We couldn’t do this straight. Tom suggested, and I agreed, that we go about things this way, and I think he is right. I believe it’s God’s will that we found Sylvia like we did.”
“But why can’t I just know what happened? I am her mother! I need to know what happened to her!”
Vincent cupped her face and said, “there are some things, Marie, you don’t want to know. Some things are best left unheard, unknown, and unseen. One day, I am certain, you will understand, and you will thank me when you do. We owe it to Sylvia to give her as normal a childhood as we can. She deserves that.”
“Yes, yes,” Marie said. “Every child deserves a happy childhood.”
“And I love her, as much, or maybe even more, than if she were our biological child.”
“I feel the same way,” Marie said.
“And I feel that, in some way, God brought her to us. We are in the perfect situation to take care of that terrified little girl.”
“Yes, you are right,” Marie said.
“So, if you love Sylvia as I do, and you want to protect her; after today, we will never discuss this again. After we bring her back home this afternoon, everything will be set. You know, I already obtained a spot for her at St. Catherine’s Catholic school up on Riverside Drive.”
“Oh, Vincent,” Marie said. “How wonderful! St. Catherine’s is a wonderful school.”
“I have already talked to the Headmistress and it is all arranged for her to start in September.”
“Aren’t they going to need to have her transcripts, or records, or something?”
“Luckily,” Vincent said as he winked. “The Chairman of their Board of Visitors is a client of mine. There will be no questions asked — none. It has all been nicely arranged. You see, she was always a student there. Her records had just been…, misplaced until recently.”
“Will that hold water? It seems too…, sketchy.”
“Who at the school is going to question a direct intervention from their Chairman? And after this year…, well, there will be ample actual records to deal with, right?”
“I suppose so,” Marie said. “Still…”
“And Marie,” Vincent said as he smiled. “Her newly ‘found’ transcripts show she has performed very well in math, just like her Dad.”
Marie reached up and stroked Vincent’s cheek. “You just arranged everything, didn’t you? Sylvia is lucky to have you as a father. You are a very clever man.”
Vincent kissed his wife’s hand and said, “And she is lucky to have you as a mother. In fact, she must have gotten her love for English class from your side of the family.” He grinned and added, “it seems she got all As last semester.”
“I hope you aren’t being too clever here. I hope this all works out,” Marie said. “I hate living a lie. When Father Zimmers baptized her, I made a promise to—”
“—It is absolutely necessary,” Vincent said. “Remember, we need to never speak of it again after today. Father Zimmers is the only one to know about the adoption, and, he is going to be the last. Agreed?”
Marie sighed and said, “agreed.”
“We need to do it for Sylvia.”
“Yes, for Sylvia.”
“Vincent, Marie, can I get anything for you?” Dr. Marstens said as he entered the room.
Marie stood up. “How is she, Tom? Is she going to be all right?”
“Oh, yes! I am glad to announce she is not only going to be all right but, her progress has been phenomenal. You have a very bright little girl there. Very bright. She is a quick study.”
“But…, what does she remember, Tom?” Marie asked.
“She remembers she has a Mom and Dad, named Vincent and Marie, who both love her. She remembers she is a good student at St. Catherine’s, and she loves English and Math,” Dr. Marstens said.
“You told Tom about the arrangements you made at St. Catherine’s before you told me?” Marie said.
“I had to,” Vincent said.
“And Sylvia also remembers the stomachache you brought her in to see me about is now gone,” Dr. Marstens said.
“Stomachache?” Marie asked.
“I thought it best to keep the cover story simple,” Dr. Marstens said. “So, did you bring the doll I told you about? She had such an affection for it, things can move much more effectively if we can build on something already present in her subconscious.”
Marie reached down into her purse and pulled out a Wonder Woman doll. “Yes, I got this at Macy’s, just as you said.”
“Perfect, just perfect,” Dr. Marstens said.
“Tom,” Marie said. “I need to know something. I…, I need to ask what she can remember from…, before?”
“She doesn’t remember anything, Marie. It has been…, erased. CLICK…, CLICK…, CLICK…”
“Click, click, click? What does that mean?” Marie asked.
“Oh, it’s just a technique I employ. It’s not important. What is important is Sylvia is ready to come home.”
“But these…, implanted memories you put in her mind, aren’t they all fake? Isn’t it possible she will figure it out?” Marie asked.
“What is your favorite Christmas memory, Marie?” Dr. Marstens asked.
“What?”
“Your favorite memory. Everyone has one. I just chose Christmas, because a lot of people have very warm feelings around this holiday.”
“I don’t know where you are going with this.”
“Humor me,” Dr. Marstens said. “It will help you understand the technique I used on Sylvia.”
“OK,” Marie said as she furrowed her brow. “Well…, I guess it would be of my Grandmother. After Midnight Mass we would all come home from church and she would stay up with me after everyone went to bed. We would drink a glass of boiled custard and watch the Pope on TV. It was great, just Nonny and me.”
Dr. Marstens smiled. “That is a beautiful memory. Now, what would you say if I told you it isn’t true?”
“What? I remember it perfectly. I can see the tree and my Grandmother. I can even taste the nutmeg and vanilla from the custard.”
“The mind is a powerful organ. In fact, one of the reasons I became a psychiatrist is my fascination with the human brain. It is far more complicated and complex than we can possibly understand. And…, it is highly subjectable to suggestion. The line between fantasy and reality is very thin, Marie. Very thin indeed. How do we know what we think we know? How can one be sure that what happened, really happened? You see…, you can’t, really. Everything that happens to us in life is all just stored in a series of biochemical reactions in a two-pound slab of meat in your skull. These memories can be changed and manipulated to be anything you need it to be. Reality is not as concrete as you might think.”
“I don’t know about that, Tom,” Marie said.
“Now, close your eyes, and focus on that memory,” Tom said as he turned to Marie.
“All right, I am,” Marie said as she closed her eyes.
“Do you see the TV?”
“Yes.”
“And a commercial is coming on, right?”
“It is! How did you—”
“—And in the commercial, a woman is coming on the screen, and it is— who? Who is on the screen now?”
“It…, I…, I don’t understand. It is…”
“Wonder Woman, right?”
“My God!” Marie said as she popped open her eyes. “It is! But…, how? That show wasn’t on back when I was a kid. That is a modern show and…, it is in color. We didn’t get color TV until I was in High School.”
“Click…, Click…, Click…,” Dr. Marstens said as he smiled.
“You did this?” Vincent asked.
“I did, last week when Marie came in for a background consultation about Sylvia. I anticipated she would have some objections.”
“I remember you talking to me, but…, how did you do this without my knowledge?” Marie asked.
Dr. Marstens smiled and said nothing.
“I may have some objections about this myself, Tom,” Vincent said. “This is unethical! You shouldn’t mess around with people’s —”
“—Objections noted. Look, I am sorry, but, I had to do it,” Dr. Marstens said. “I only want what’s best for Sylvia. I have grown quite fond of her. You two have been given a gift of a beautiful daughter. I know if I had a daughter, I would want her to be exactly like Sylvia.”
“Well…, I am touched you are so committed to Sylvia’s well-being, but you should not have experimented on Marie without her knowledge,” Vincent said. “This is not right, Tom. It is not right at all!”
Dr. Marstens stood up and said, “Sometimes the ends justify the means. I am sure you will feel differently about my methods once you see the results, which will be right now.” He pressed the intercom button on his desk and said, “Phyllis, please send Sylvia in.”
The door opened, and Sylvia rushed inside. “Mommy, Daddy, I feel so much better! Dr. Marstens fixed me all up.”
Tears welled up in Marie’s eyes as she saw Sylvia’s face. Outwardly, she appeared to be a bright, happy, smiling child, just like nothing was wrong. And it is true— nothing was wrong. With she and Vincent, they all are a family now.
“Are you ready to go home, Sylvia?” Vincent said.
“You bet, Daddy,” Sylvia said. “Oh…, Dr. Marstens said you would get me some ice cream on the way home if I was good.” She turned to Dr. Marstens and said, “I was good, wasn’t I?”
“You were very good,” Dr. Marstens said. “You did everything I asked.”
Vincent choked back a sob as he said, “I…, I would be thrilled to buy you ice cream, Sylvia.”
“I love you, Daddy,” Sylvia said. “And Mommy, too!” As she turned to Marie, Sylvia caught sight of the Wonder Woman doll and squealed. “You remembered to bring it! Dr. Marstens said you would.”
“Yes, Sylvia,” Marie said. “I remembered. Now, let’s go home. I look forward to playing together in your room.”
“You’re the best, Mommy. I love you so much.”
Marie began to cry. “I love you, too, Sylvia. More than you can ever know.”
Chapter 33
April 30th, 2017 - Floriston California - 4:30 PM
“I will say this, for a bunch of Satanists, they sure have a topnotch selection of specialty goat cheeses,” Heather said before she laughed and chomped down on a cheese-laden cracker. “Yummy! It tastes so deliciously evil!”
“Heather, you really are too much,” Sylvia said as she took a sip of her Chardonnay.
“So…., do you feel stupid yet?” Heather asked.
“Not yet,” Sylvia said. “Although, I think I am on the road to it.”
“And you were all worried about there being some kind of Satanic cult up here,” Heather said. She spread her arms wide to highlight the festival and added, “this is about as diabolical as a Renaissance Fair. In fact, I half expect to hear someone crank up some old Joan Baez tunes any minute.”
“God, I sure hope not. Then we would definitely know the devil was at work,” Sylvia said with a laugh. “So, have you seen Alyssa anywhere? Remember, I haven’t ever met her. I just saw her picture once. I doubt I could place her in a crowd.”
“I’ve been looking,” Heather said. “Frankly, it’s probably a lost cause. Alyssa has that generic blonde-girl look about her. God knows, California is filled with that type. Out here, in this Hipster-Doofus Wonderland, forget about spotting her in this crowd. She would blend right in quite easily with these tie-dyed, Wiccan whack-jobs.” Heather paused as something caught her attention. She pointed down the hill and said, “Hey, will you lookey there. They are giving away free samples of Riesling!”
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Sylvia said. “We hit four wineries on the way up here.”
“I know, wasn’t it great?” Heather said. “After all, if I am going to sell my soul to the devil, shouldn’t I at least get a f
ree souvenir glass? You know, something stamped with - I went to Beltane 2017 to sell my soul to Satan and all I got was this stupid mug - on the front.”
Sylvia laughed and shook her head as she followed Heather down the hill to the wine vendor. She was feeling much better now, the tension that had been building in her gut for days was fading away. She also felt, she had to admit, very foolish. Heather was right. The place was about as benign as a local Farmer’s Market. And, to make the devil-baked conspiratorial plot seem even more preposterous, the day was gorgeous. Somehow it is hard to think about dark occultic practices when standing in a flower-laden meadow. The whole earth seemed to be bursting into bloom simultaneously. It hardly seemed a proper setting for some demon infested, human sacrificial festival.
The crowd in attendance was small, perhaps forty people, and hardly appeared diabolical. There was not a black hood or necklace of human skulls in sight. More Simon and Garfunkel than Marilyn Manson. The sparse attendance was not surprising either. The location was far off the grid. Overall the atmosphere was quite upbeat. Children played in the yard and there was an interesting and eclectic mix of people milling about. If one did not know different, the event could have easily passed as just another hipsterish, upscale, vegan, folk event, so common in California.
Sylvia was always fascinated by people watching and was especially curious to see what kind of vendors show up for such an unorthodox event. She smiled as she approached one of the card tables manned by an older woman hawking her wares. It was just what she expected. How could she have gotten so swept up in Father Hector’s craziness? I don’t think they would sell handcraft soaps at a real Satanic Black Mass.
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Sylvia asked the vendor.
“Oh, it is. I can’t remember a prettier Beltane in years,” the woman replied. “Can I interest you in any handcrafted soap? I make these myself. Personally, I think the lavender/honey is my best.”
“They are lovely, but no thanks,” Sylvia said. “But…, say, maybe you can tell me something? This is my first time here and I was kind of wondering what goes on during the ceremony?”
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