The Rejoining

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The Rejoining Page 6

by Jojo Brown


  “Just look at one of them, and tell me what you see.”

  Stepping up close to the nearest canvas, I did as he asked, thinking he was nearly as imbalanced as the residents under his care.

  “It looks to be set in Victorian Times, judging by the gowns on the ladies strolling along by the placid lake, on the arms of the gentlemen. There are nannies, pushing old style prams. A young couple is having a picnic in the shade of an oak tree. All in all, it is a very nice picture.”

  “Yes, that is a good start, but look closer.”

  “Okay, I am not an art critic, but I will try. She has done a wonderful job of catching the way the sunlight filters through the leaves of the trees. The scene is reflected in the mirror-like surface of the lake. Some of the people are slightly out of scale; she should work on her proportions a bit, and the tones. They seem to be too tall and slender and they are much too pale.

  “There is something wrong with the sky as well. There is obviously, bright sun shining off the leaves and people, there are deep shadows and shade under the trees. The sky reflected in the lake is bright blue, with a few scattered clouds floating along, but the actual sky, is somewhat grey as if there is a storm coming. Is that good enough, Doctor?”

  “No Ella, you are not looking closely enough. Examine that tree in the foreground. Look at the way she did the trunk… the way the bark flows. Stop looking with your eyes and see it with your mind, your heart.”

  This was getting ridiculous and I was growing very impatient with the whole thing. I figured that I would indulge him for another minute or two and then insist that he take me to see my mother. It was time for answers… not guessing games!

  “Okay, fine, the bark is very well done. It is surprisingly realistic, except here, where this largest branch breaks from the trunk. The way the bark comes around in a circle, it almost looks like…”

  I could not believe what I was seeing. The lines in the bark, right there formed a rough circle, surrounding… could it be… it was… it was my amulet. She had painted the amulet into the tree.

  “Doctor. Why would she… how?”

  “Look here, Ella, at the center of the Ferris wheel spokes. In this painting of a carnival. And here, in the hair of this mourning woman. Again here, in the center of this sunflower.”

  I could see them now, everywhere I looked, in every single painting. They all had my amulet in them, somewhere.

  The doctor was beside himself with excitement. “I never knew what it was before. I thought it was just some strange sort of signature or something. I never would have thought that it was an actual amulet.

  “Years ago Sandra told me a story of a baby being born with a pendant clutched in its hand, but I never truly believed her—until now. She was sedated when she gave birth, the nurses must have told her about it, maybe they even showed it to her, before her mother took it away to hide it.

  “Could the rest of the stories be true then? Is that even remotely possible? But, Ella is here and she does have the amulet. Could it be?”

  He was obviously talking more to himself than us.

  “Doctor,” Chris broke into his monologue. “Perhaps we could see Mrs. Marshall now.”

  Sixteen

  He led us to a cozy sitting room, with an over-stuffed couch and two matching chairs, arranged in front of a cemented-in fireplace. Clearly, considered some sort of hazard.

  Seated on the chair closest to the fireplace, was an older version of me. Her hair was the same color as mine, pulled back into a ponytail. Her nose had the same slight tilt up at the tip. Her lips had a natural upwards bow, as if she were perpetually smiling softly at some memory. Even her hands resembled my own, in that the fingers were long and slender, with deep nail beds.

  The one major difference was her eyes. While mine were brown, hers were a soft hazel color, but it was more than just the color difference. There was a lack of life in her eyes, no life, no spark. They almost looked like the eyes you would see on a mannequin, or a child’s doll.

  Her skin was smooth, almost unnaturally so. Most women, by her age, have numerous lines in their faces; you can tell what their lives were like by reading those lines, but not Sandra. Apart from a few fine laugh lines at the corners of her eyes, there was no story to tell there, no history, no life. It was all well hidden beneath her mask of serenity.

  As I sat perched on the edge of the sofa, directly across from her, I could not stop staring. I had thought for my whole life that this woman was dead and now there I was, sitting in the same room with her. It was an eerie feeling.

  Dr. Lawrence settled into the chair beside her and reached out to gently touch her arm. She started, as though she was surprised that she was no longer alone in the room.

  “Hello Sandra,” he spoke softly, “someone is here to see you.”

  The look of confusion only lasted a moment, before she focused her eyes on me. She took a deep breath and curled her hands into balls in her lap.

  “So, you’ve finally come,” she stated, flatly.

  “Yes,” I squeaked, over the lump in my throat. “I have come to see you.”

  “Why?”

  “I need some answers.”

  “I thought you might.” Her smile, never reached her eyes. “I knew you would be coming soon. Your grandmother called me a while ago and told me that she was going to tell you what happened.

  “So, now you know all of it, all of the dirty little secrets and family shame. What more do you want?”

  Her bland attitude shocked me.

  “I don’t know everything. In fact, I do not know very much at all. I was told that you were dead. Dad only broke down and told me the truth when I confronted him with what Nanny told me, before she died”

  Reaching into my purse, which lay at my feet, I pulled out the envelope. “He asked me to give this to you.”

  She took the still-sealed envelope, with shaking fingers and tore it open.

  Doctor Lawrence tensed in his seat. “Miss Marshall, you didn’t tell me that you brought a letter for Sandra!”

  “Well, I didn’t realize that I had to. It’s just a note from her husband. What harm can there be in that?”

  “But, did you read it? Do you know for a fact that there is nothing damaging in it,” he pushed out between clenched teeth. “This is all very unusual, we do not allow our residents to be upset by outside things.”

  Suddenly the woman in front of me, transformed. She relaxed, leaning back in her chair and pulled her feet up into a lotus position.

  “Quit your belly-aching, Jeremiah,” she chuckled, this time all the way up to her eyes, “Go ahead and go over it with your fine toothed comb, there is nothing in there about world affairs or anything else you deem, damaging. It’s just a nice note from my Albert.”

  Flipping the note to the tense doctor, she focused once again on me, “So, you really don’t know everything. They stopped her. I thought they might. Well, if they wouldn’t let her tell you all of it, what makes you think they will let me?”

  “Who stopped her?” Shock now mixed with the nervousness gnawing at my confidence. “No one stopped her, she died. She was old and it was at the end of her time, so she died. She just waited too late to try and tell me, that’s all.”

  “Oh, don’t be so foolish. She knew what she was doing; they would have stopped her, whenever she tried to tell you. She knew that she had to wait until she had finished living or it would have been a life cut short. That’s just the way they are. But… it is your life, you do have the right to know; they can take me out if they want to, I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this anyway.

  “You used to talk to them all the time. You told me that they lived behind the toilet, or in the attic, the woods or inside a favorite doll. You saw them everywhere, all the time. Surely you remember this, it was an everyday thing.”

  “Are you telling me that you were afraid of my imaginary friends?”

  “NO! They were not your imaginary friends; that is what I a
m trying to tell you. I used to hear them all the time too, when I was pregnant with you, they would whisper in my ears. They chose your names and got very angry when I changed them.

  “When you were just an infant, they would tell me what to do with you, when to feed you, change your diaper, burp you. They never left me alone! They were always whispering in my ear, calling you ‘The Special One’, using that other name… going on about your rights… your purpose.

  “You were never my baby!

  “I wasn’t allowed to have a moment alone with you and it got worse and worse. We left England to come to Canada, when you were just little. I thought that if I could get you away from there, we would be left alone, but I was wrong… they followed us.”

  “Are you telling that they were ghosts?” my voice wouldn’t come out above a whisper, through my choked throat. “And that Ella is not my real name?”

  “Your name is Eluna, Ella is just the short form, and no, I am not telling you a ghost story. They were more than ghosts. They were… the ancient ones, here long before humankind, before dinosaurs, before everything. But you have the amulet now; you should already know all of this. The amulet is the key. The amulet is the answer.”

  “None of this makes any sense. What does the amulet have to do with all of this? How can it answer my questions? It is an inanimate object, a piece of jewelry, an antique perhaps, but it can’t tell what I need to know.”

  I fought to keep my voice as calm as I could.

  I did not want to upset her, I wanted to keep her talking, but she was not making any sense.

  “Why did you try to kill me, Mother? I was just a little girl, what could I possibly have done to make you so very angry?”

  “You know very well why. I cannot believe you have come here, pretending to not remember any of it. All the time talking to them, listening to them, doing what they told you to do.

  “Never listening to me; never allowing me to protect you.

  “Putting everyone in danger; starting fires on the water; dancing naked on the moonlit roof; biting people, because you said you needed to feel their worth. Making your brother stay little, so you could have a playmate, because you frightened any other child that we brought for you to play with.

  “They would tell you what to do and I was powerless. You were their toy, their puppet. I knew what they were up to. I knew that they wanted it all. I tried to stop them, but to stop them… I had to stop you.

  “They wouldn’t let me!

  “They were always there; surrounding you with their masses, protecting you, empowering you.

  “There was nothing I could do, don’t you see?

  “Even when I held you under the water, they breathed for you, filling you with more of their thoughts and power.

  “Albert never saw. Oh no, of course not. He thought you were as perfect as they did. He could not see how you truly were. To him you were an angel and no matter how much I told him about them, he would just cuddle you and whisper in your ear how wonderful you were.

  “But he must have finally seen something—he never let you off that farm, did he?

  “He followed my wishes and kept you from the world, he helped to keep everyone safe, didn’t he?

  “Now it’s too late! They failed, you are beyond their touch; you have forgotten all of it; you are too old now, it’s too late.

  “I told, The Lady in White, all about it and she knows what is going on. She told me not to worry, that everything would work out for the best. I trust her and I don’t think she will let them come here and hurt me.”

  This was ridiculous. She quite clearly had lost her mind, and it was a huge waste of time coming here. She was ranting, her voice was beyond agitated, it was becoming nearly hysterical.

  I had to try one more time, even though I could tell by the look on the doctor’s face that he wanted me to be done.

  “Mum… who is Amy?”

  Jumping from her seat with a speed that astounded all of us she backhanded me across the face, with so much force I thought my neck had snapped. Screaming, she ran to the mantle over the fireplace, gouging great chunks out with her bare bloodied fingers.

  She screamed a deep guttural, animalistic sound as the solid wood fell in chips at her feet.

  She screamed… as the doctor and Chris rushed to check my face and neck.

  She screamed… as the nurses and orderlies raced into the room.

  She screamed… as they plunged their hypodermic needles into her soft flesh.

  She screamed… as they lowered her onto the stretcher, slammed into the room by one of them.

  She softly whimpered… as her eyes closed on a world that she could not handle.

  The Lady in White, looked at me, with tears shining in her eyes, across the limp body of my mother, and whispered, “This was not your fault. She was not strong enough. I will stay with her, but you need to look elsewhere for your answers, my child. They are out there, just follow the path that has been set out for you.”

  Seventeen

  Sitting back in the passenger seat of Chris’ SUV, with a mitten full of snow pressed to my swollen cheek, my mind was reeling. How was I supposed to understand, or accept everything that had just taken place? It all felt like a dream, a very bad dream.

  The memory of the screams still echoed in my head. Even after my mother’s eyes closed and she was quiet, screams reverberated through the halls. It seemed as if every resident had taken up her cause and were adding their voices to her own, as it was stilled.

  Nurses and orderlies were running around, trying their best to settle all of them down, without much success. Dr. Lawrence had grabbed my arm and pulled me along, yelling for Chris to follow. He’d rushed us through a labyrinth of back passages, which I had assumed would lead us back to his office.

  When we burst into the reception area, instead, a nurse was waiting with our coats, which she shoved at us as the doctor was telling us that we had to leave. It had all happened so fast, I barely had a chance to catch my breath, let alone say anything.

  With the doctor’s hand against my back as he moved me out the door, I turned, “Please, tell my mother that I forgive her. And, that I love her.”

  A look of great relief mixed with sadness, came over his face as he spoke, “The time for that may have passed, I am afraid. You have a long path to tread, which should have been started long ago, hasten your feet and reach the end, before the time. You have the key, find your way.”

  I heard the bolt slide into place as he shut the door in front of me. Somehow, the sound of that bolt was much more final than anything I had experienced before. Not only, was my mother and everything that she could tell me about my past locked away in the realm of insanity—now I was physically locked away from those answers.

  Yes, that bolt was very final!

  Snapping myself out of my mental fog, I realized that Chris had said something. “What was that?”

  “I just asked if you were okay.”

  “Physically, I think I will survive, but as far as emotionally… I have no idea.

  “What was all that back there, Chris? I mean, I know that my mother is insane and I feel so bad for her, but why were we practically thrown out of the institute when she snapped?”

  “Well, maybe he was worried for your safety, with all of them becoming agitated like that. Or maybe he thought we were going to incite a riot.” Chris chuckled to himself, as the last part of that thought settled around us, but I think a part of him was serious about it.

  “So sweetheart, where do we go from here?” His hand rested gently on my trembling knee.

  “I need to talk to Adam. I should have gone to see him a few days ago, he’ll be wondering where I am.”

  Turning to glance at me, he smiled. “Do you really think he will be able to give you any of the answers that you are looking for?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s worth a try. Besides, I really did miss my visit with him and he will be looking for me.”

  The s
now was falling again, making the mountain road even more difficult to navigate. All conversation stopped, as Chris concentrated on our safe passage back to the motel. I settled back into the comfort of my seat, and watched the hypnotic flakes, as they flashed through the headlights of the truck.

  Suddenly realizing that it was dark, I sat up with a gasp. “What time is it?”

  “Hey there, sleepy-head. It’s almost eight-thirty; you’ve been asleep for a couple of hours. And, before you ask, we are almost back to town.”

  Sitting up, trying to get my bearings I reached over to run my fingers along his cheek, “I am so sorry. I really didn’t mean to fall asleep and leave you alone to drive all of that way, in this weather.”

  “It’s okay, babe. I wouldn’t have been very good company anyway. The roads have gotten pretty bad and getting us down safely, took all my concentration. Plus, you obviously needed the rest, and, you look so damned cute when you’re sleeping.”

  Eighteen

  Leaning back against the hard porcelain of the over-sized motel bathtub, with my eyes closed, I listened to Chris quietly enter the room. I heard the soft clink of glass being set down on the side of the tub and the swish of his jeans as they slid down his legs to join my clothes on the floor.

  “I came to join you, in your steamy oasis, if that’s okay.”

  Without opening my eyes, I smiled slightly and curled my legs up in answer. As I felt the water level change with the addition of Chris’ body, I sent a silent thanks to the wise designer.

  “I think all motels should have over-sized tubs like this one, just for moments such as this.”

  “I agree wholeheartedly,” he whispered, as his cool fingers massaged my legs. “I brought you a glass of wine. It’s the chardonnay that you like.”

 

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