A Passionate Spirit

by S. C. Skillman

  “That cannot really happen, though, Griff,” said Zoe. She heard a tremor in her voice.

  “Already two people claim she’s given them physical healing,” said Griff. “Cynthia and Heidi.”

  Zoe’s heart started to hammer.

  “Griff,” she said, “by what power do you think Natasha’s doing this?”

  Griff stared at her.

  “God, of course,” he said. “Soon, word will get round and we’ll have a flood of course bookings, all from applicants wanting to come and be healed by Natasha.”

  Zoe was now breathing faster. “I think Theo and I need to have a talk with Natasha before we allow that to happen,” she said, trying to sound calm.

  Someone came up behind Zoe. Her stomach tightened. She spun round.

  “Natasha,” she said.

  “Did I alarm you?” enquired Natasha with a sweet smile.

  “No, not at all.”

  Once more, Natasha was dressed all in white. And again, it was an ankle-length dress, this time worn beneath a long, lace cardigan with mother-of-pearl buttons. She favoured dazzling white, too. No cream or ivory for her. Her insistence on this made the blue of her eyes more intense and unsettling.

  Griff extended his free hand to Natasha and grasped hers. “Everyone’s talking about you, Natasha,” he said.

  “Thank you.”

  “The other guests believe you have a healing gift,” said Zoe. “I’m curious to know how many times this has happened for you in the past?”

  “Oh, I’m happy to talk about it,” responded Natasha. “Not right now, though, as I’m sure you’ve plenty of work to be getting on with.”

  Zoe lifted her chin.

  “No, I’d like to talk about it right now.”

  “Very well. I’ve had success with psychological and emotional problems as well as physical,” said Natasha. “Sometimes it does seem like I can heal such things by a touch, or a glance. I can certainly give people a sense of peace.”

  Zoe moistened her lips. In the past, if she felt herself reacting against someone she didn’t know well, she’d preferred to give them the benefit of the doubt.

  “But of course you cannot guarantee that,” she said.

  “No? Why not wait and see. Over the next few days, who knows what may happen?”

  “You are having us on, aren’t you, Natasha?” insisted Zoe.

  Natasha smiled, and didn’t reply.

  “I’ve never heard of anyone healing by a touch or a glance,” Zoe said, “only Jesus.”

  For a second, Zoe felt sure she saw Natasha stiffen.

  “I suggest you reserve judgement,” said Natasha. “Have patience. You will, I hope, be willing to believe the evidence of your own eyes.”

  Zoe nodded. She didn’t know what more she could say.

  Griff changed the subject. “Will I see you in my workshop after lunch, Natasha?”

  “Maybe,” she replied.

  “You’re very mysterious,” commented Griff.

  “How long have you and James known each other, Natasha?” asked Zoe.

  Natasha raised her hand and pushed her hair back. “Days, months, years,” she said. “What does it matter? Time in this world means nothing.”

  Zoe’s eyes widened. “I’d say it means a lot, much more than I’d like it to.”

  “Not to me,” said Natasha.

  “Why, do you exist in some eternal realm?” enquired Zoe flippantly.

  “Perhaps I do,” she replied, and then switched her attention to a point behind them. Zoe turned to see another guest approach.

  “Ah, there’s Gareth,” said Natasha. “Do excuse me. He mentioned a health problem to me. He agreed to tell me more about it later. I may be able to help him.”

  She walked past them leaving Zoe staring in disbelief.

  “Natasha seems quite charming,” said Jessica, as Alice made ready to leave the office at twelve thirty. “Nobody I’ve spoken to since coming in this morning has had anything to say against her. I’ve heard words like spiritual, caring, lovely. She makes people feel valued. Frankly, I’m delighted we have someone like her with us. See you at lunch.”

  And with that Jessica walked out of the office.

  Zoe turned to Alice. “I feel like screaming,” she said.

  “And if you were at drama school, I’d say go ahead,” replied Alice; “it’s all part of the training. But right now, I’m afraid, you’ll probably be heard across the courtyard and the guests might think you’re being murdered in here.”

  “True,” said Zoe. “How much longer, though, can I continue listening to this stuff about Natasha?”

  “Until we find out more about her that might prove otherwise,” said Alice. “Meanwhile, listen, there’s a book I want to borrow from your library before I go.”

  “Sure. I’ll come through with you and help you find it,” said Zoe.

  Leaving the office by the internal doorway they walked through the house to the library.

  “Alice, I’m afraid,” said Zoe.

  Alice closed the library door behind them and scrutinized her. “Yes. I know. And I think you have every right to be.”

  “How can I put it? Theo and I aren’t safe. That’s how I feel.”

  Alice stood with her hands on her hips. “Zoe, I’m not going to give you false comfort. I agree with you. But I promise to help in every way I can.”

  “Alice, if you’re right about Natasha, why does nobody else see anything in her manner, her eyes, her tone of voice, her words, to give them a clue? Does she consciously intend to deceive?”

  “I believe so,” said Alice.

  “Let me get you your book,” said Zoe, going across to the bookshelf opposite and picking out the book Alice wanted. “Here you are.”

  “Thanks.”

  Before Zoe could return to the subject of Natasha, they both heard a motor engine approach the house.

  Alice went over to the east window which gave a view onto the gravel forecourt and Zoe followed.

  The vehicle swept down the drive towards them, whipping up dust and leaves: a black Porsche Cayenne.

  As it neared the farmhouse, it slowed then drew to a halt south of where they stood, close to the conifers.

  “We’re not expecting any new arrivals,” said Zoe. “Must be visitors. Let’s go out and meet them.”

  They left the library and went to open the front door. As they stood on the threshold, they saw James getting out of the Cayenne while Natasha emerged from the conifers; neither seemed to notice Alice and Zoe. Natasha had her back to them as she opened the front passenger door and took something out, which looked like a bundle of clothes. Then she and James disappeared from view, back along the path which led through the conifers to the goose house.

  Zoe and Alice exchanged a bewildered glance.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ten minutes later, Zoe put the phone down after a conversation with the Trust’s building insurers, and Miles appeared in the office, with drawn face and wrinkled brow. She braced herself.

  “Zoe, sorry to hit you with more bad news, but Theo’s asked me to let you know that the ceramic communion set has gone missing.”

  “Missing? The whole set? Is he sure?”

  “I see no reason to doubt him, Zoe. As you know, there was the jug, a large plate and two goblets. Theo tells me the set was locked in the cupboard in the studio. But when he went in there just now, and looked in the cupboard, he found those items had gone.”

  Zoe’s face clouded. Theo’s communion set had been made by a visiting ceramic artist, and was very beautiful. After several firings in the kiln, each time with a different overlaid glaze, each piece had been engraved with delicate patterns and painted with cobalt oxide. The artist had presented the set personally to Theo as a thank you gift for all the help and counselling she’d received from him.

  “I checked myself at eleven o’clock this morning,” said Zoe. “And they were all there. So I can’t think what would have happened to them since. Ap
art from Theo and me, only Bernie has a set of keys. I’ll call him.”

  She made the call then looked up at Miles.

  “Nothing. Bernie hasn’t been near the cupboard since yesterday afternoon.”

  She chewed her lip.

  “There may have been some misunderstanding. I’ll ask Bernie to search the place this afternoon. If it still hasn’t turned up by tomorrow, we’ll ask the guests at lunchtime.”

  James’s face appeared on her mental screen. He’d been in the studio that morning, with Jessica. But she had no reason to suspect him capable of theft. Besides, she’d seen him leave the studio empty-handed.

  There was a knock on the door and three guests entered the office. Zoe blanked James out and hoped desperately that they weren’t about to report another healing. She almost breathed a sigh of relief when they began to query her, instead, about the details of that day’s programme. Then they all went off to the dining area for lunch, and Zoe followed, locking the office door behind her.

  After dinner that evening, Zoe went into the first-floor study and chose an easy chair.

  She had twenty minutes free before going back on duty at that evening’s event. Theo would lead a calligraphy workshop in the studio. Zoe had no idea whether James and Natasha would be there. With most guests either in their rooms, or still chatting over coffee in the sitting room, she trusted she’d be alone for the next few minutes.

  She’d brought her iPad in with her. But her purpose was not to catch up on personal emails. She had other intentions.

  The first time she’d known James, more than three years before, her own instincts had guided her to keep away from him and she’d avoided any long conversations with him. So, although she knew he’d done some professional acting, and had spent time as an academic, she knew very little else about him. Now was her chance to do a bit of research.

  He merited a mention on several academic websites, as well as International Movie Database, Rotten Tomatoes and Wikipedia. Scrolling down the list of websites, she confirmed that he had, in the past, been on the academic staff at Edinburgh University, teaching psychology; he’d played a priest in Journey to the Scaffold; he’d been cast as a vampire and a werewolf a number of times and had also done quite a bit of extras work.

  She brought up one of her search pages again. No sign of any unsavoury information about him. If he had the ‘dangerous’ element that Alice had mentioned, it didn’t seem to be something he’d acted on yet; unless of course he’d done it under a different name. And it might be he was waiting for the right time – perhaps the best phase of the lunar calendar.

  She remained unsatisfied. She still couldn’t make sense of why James and Natasha had chosen to come to this centre. She believed the reason they’d given her and Alice was spurious. Neither of them showed any interest in the workshops. But she was powerless to do anything about it.

  The next morning Zoe’s heart felt even heavier. The missing jug, plate and goblets had still not come to light. And Theo had woken up tired. Far from being refreshed by an early night, he’d seemed worse. She wondered whether he’d been working too hard, or whether he’d caught a virus.

  “Go and lie down again,” she’d said to him at breakfast.

  “I can’t. I have to lead the workshop,” he’d replied, and they parted.

  “Theo’s clearly sickening for something, isn’t he?” remarked James an hour later, as Zoe hurried across the courtyard with her fleecy collar up around her neck, to protect her from the icy bite of the air.

  She walked through into reception and took up her position behind her computer.

  “Natasha would be very happy to heal him,” said James, following, and standing in front of her desk.

  “You have tremendous faith in Natasha,” she said.

  “Of course,” replied James. “And so does everyone else. Surely, as Christians, you and Theo should be the first to celebrate her gift.”

  Zoe shot a cold glance at him. “A gift? And where do you say it comes from, James?”

  Before he could answer, the door opened and Alice came in. Zoe relaxed.

  “Morning, Alice,” she said.

  “Morning, Zoe, James,” said Alice, going across to her desk.

  James continued addressing Zoe as if Alice hadn’t entered the room.

  “Quite simply, Zoe, you’ve no idea of Natasha’s power. What you’ve seen so far is nothing. Nothing at all. She has far more to show you.”

  The door opened and Natasha walked in, followed by Theo. Zoe got up at once and went to join Theo. She searched his face. His skin was taut over his cheekbones. His complexion seemed muted.

  “You still don’t look well enough to lead the workshop,” she murmured.

  “Griff said he’d do it for me,” he said. “I’ll go and lie down. But first Natasha agreed to come and have a few words with us.”

  Zoe looked back at Natasha and her stomach tightened. Both Natasha and James had taken easy chairs, while Alice remained at her desk.

  “Natasha,” said Theo, “Gareth tells me you healed him last night. He shared the story with me and described how the pain had suddenly left him.”

  Natasha studied him with a gentle, alert expression.

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  “If these people are right about what they believe has happened to them,” said Theo, “that means you’ve healed three of our guests since you came to us. How do you do it, Natasha? Do you pray? Do you command the disease or injury to be gone? Any special words you use?”

  Natasha smiled and folded her hands in her lap.

  “Nothing special,” she said. “If there is a command, it’s unconscious and unspoken.”

  Theo continued to press her. “How often have you done this before?”

  “Many times; I’ve lost count.”

  Zoe swallowed.

  “But,” said Theo, “in my experience, a good healing ministry isn’t about finding cures – it’s about people coming to peace with God over stuff; it’s about healing and reconciliation. If we’re gifted with a miracle, it’s for a reason. Jesus did his miracles to prove a point and say something about the kingdom of God.”

  Natasha made no response. James cleared his throat as if about to speak. But instead he chose to remain silent.

  “I was on a healing team years ago,” said Theo, “and I saw somebody’s cancer disappear – later to return six months down the line, when the patient had sorted their life out and was ready to go. Miracles are few and far between for a reason.”

  “You may believe that if you wish,” said Natasha. “I, on the other hand, believe that many more miracles happen than we ever acknowledge. However, right now, all I know is the power that’s been given to me, which I use for the good of others.”

  Zoe wanted to take hold of Theo’s hand and squeeze it to give him courage. But she couldn’t move.

  “Very well, Natasha,” Theo said. “Please call me first, before you do this again, so I can be present as well.”

  Natasha trained a long, cool glance on Theo.

  “I’ll try. But I can’t promise. I meet people’s needs as they arise; and, of course, only if they ask.”

  She and James exchanged a smile.

  “Shall we be off, Natasha?” said James. “Remember we agreed to try out Griff’s poetry workshop.”

  Zoe started. First workshop she’d known them try. Perhaps they planned to target Griff next.

  “OK,” said Natasha. “See you later.” They both got up and walked out.

  Zoe stared intently from Alice to Theo and back again.

  “The power; does that mean psychic power?” she asked.

  “Yes,” said Alice. “She’s using it for the wrong reasons.”

  Zoe could swear the temperature in the office had dropped a few degrees. She hugged her arms around herself.

  “Can’t imagine what those reasons might be, though,” added Alice.

  “Something in her drives her to fix the problems of others,�
� mused Theo.

  “If ‘fixing problems’ is what she’s doing,” remarked Alice. “The guests and the rest of the staff think she’s some kind of higher spiritual being. I believe they’d do anything for her.”

  She studied Theo.

  “And that’s why Zoe and I agree there’s something very wrong about it,” she said. “This power of hers…where does it stop? And she still hasn’t been clear about where it comes from.”

  Zoe, too, spun to Theo. “What shall we do?” she pleaded.

  “I’ll have to think about it,” he said. “I’m not sure yet that I agree with you about this, Alice. James should be able to help us understand more; he knows Natasha far better than any of us. I’ll speak to him alone. But perhaps I’ll have another word with Natasha first. By the way, have the missing ceramic pieces turned up again yet?”

  “No.”

  He sighed.

  “That’s it then. If they don’t come to light in the next couple of hours, we’ll speak to the guests about it at lunchtime. I’m off to lie down. See you later.”

  Zoe stood looking at the door after he’d walked out and closed it behind him.

  Then she swung round to face Alice again.

  “He doesn’t see this the way I do,” she said. “He’s falling under her spell himself.”

  Her face burned with anger and tears rolled down her cheeks.

  CHAPTER NINE

  By midday there was still no news of the lost ceramics.

  “Alice,” said Zoe, “will you stay on, and join us for lunch? I’ll need to question the guests about the missing communion set and I’d like you there to give me courage.”

  “Fine,” said Alice.

  At twelve thirty, Zoe and Alice locked the office door and walked across the courtyard to the dining area.

  During group mealtimes Zoe and Theo usually sat in different places, chatting to separate groups of guests, to spread their hospitality as far as they could. The aroma of hot baked potatoes and vegetable chilli drew the guests in from the cold courtyard. Zoe guessed Theo meant to wait until lunch was over to confront the task of asking the guests if they knew of the missing jug, plate and goblets.