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He grabbed Eunice’s arm and pointed to me. ‘Can you see the light?’
‘You may take him,’ Bethany said.
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Miss Joffey put her arm around Mr Collins and led him away.
He followed like an obedient puppy.
‘Sarah, are you okay to go back to sleep? I can give you something, if you need it,’ Bethany said.
‘No thank you.’
‘I’m sorry if you were frightened. Mr Collins should not have entered your room. He’s never done anything like that before. I can’t imagine what has got into him.’
‘I’ll be fine. Thank you.’
‘Good night then.’
‘Good night,’ I said.
After Bethany shut the door behind her, I opened the window. I took the chair from the writing desk and dragged it over to the door, where I wedged it underneath the knob. Only then, secure in the knowledge that no one else could get in, was I able to sleep.
* * *
When I awoke the next morning, a shroud of fog had settled over the city. The wind blew against my windows, rattling them like a witch’s curse, causing the grey mist to swirl like waves. I dressed and headed downstairs, anxious to begin my day. In the foyer, two maids swept the marble floor. Chloe, the young woman who answered the door for me yesterday, had her head bent over some sort of ledger, copying numbers from a pile of receipts. She nodded at me as I passed her desk.
Once again, I followed the smell of coffee and cinnamon to the kitchen, where Alice laboured over something that smelled like heaven. She rolled out dough onto the section of the chopping block that had been covered in flour. Mrs McDougal stood near her, arms across her chest, supervising the girl’s efforts. Both women nodded at me when I came into the room.
The young woman twisted the dough and with expert fingers, dusted it with cinnamon and sugar from the bowl that rested near her elbow. She then placed the twisted dough onto a cookie sheet, waiting its turn in the oven.
‘There are cinnamon rolls, toast, scrambled eggs, and coffee.’ Mrs McDougal nodded to the table, where a breakfast buffet had been laid out. ‘We won’t have butter until tomorrow, so you’ll have to use jam.’ I grabbed a mug, filled it with coffee, took two pieces of toast, and sat down to watch the women tend to the baking.
Under Mrs McDougal’s watchful eye, the young girl went to the oven and took out a cookie sheet laden with half a dozen cinnamon rolls. She set these on a cooling rack, slid the sheet of uncooked rolls into the oven, shut the door, and set the timer.
‘Those look beautiful,’ Mrs McDougal said with pride. ‘Now glaze them with the icing, and I bet Miss Bennett will volunteer to taste one for you.’
‘Two for me, please. I’m famished.’ Dr Geisler burst into the room. He poured himself a cup of coffee and loaded a plate up with toast, scrambled eggs, and two of the cinnamon rolls – a surprising amount of food for a man so slight of build. He sat down across from me, put his linen napkin on his lap, and dug into his breakfast.
‘You’re probably wondering why we eat in the kitchen. The dining room has been converted to a visiting area. I’m hopeful that when our beds are full, the patients’ families will come to visit them. There’s something warm and cosy about eating in the kitchen, don’t you think?’
He didn’t give me a chance to answer.
‘We dine formally in the alcove across the hall. We can seat eight people, and that is sufficient for our needs.’ He picked up the newspaper that lay folded on the table near his plate. ‘I’m sorry about Mr Collins. You’ll have a key to your room by lunchtime. I should have had the foresight to give you one when you first arrived. Did you sleep well after your interruption?’
‘Very well,’ I said. ‘Although I confess I wedged a chair under the doorknob.’
‘Mr Collins is quite taken with you, Sarah. I assure you he’s harmless, so if you come across him just know that he will not hurt you.’
‘What do you do with patients like Mr Collins? Has he always been like that? Can you cure him?’
‘Mr Collins used to be a prodigious piano player, a respected professional. He suffered a horrible tragedy, which pushed him over the edge. He hasn’t played the piano since.’ Dr Geisler set his fork down and used his toast to mop up the last of his eggs. He didn’t speak until he finished chewing and dabbed his mouth once again with his napkin.
‘I have no idea if I can do anything for him at this point. He seems to be a different person when he is under hypnosis. But when I bring him back, he regresses. When Mr Collins’s brother brought him here, he mentioned that he had no idea what to do with his brother’s piano. I suggested he bring it here, just in case it might trigger a memory. Music is great therapy.
‘But to answer your question, I’ll just say that I remain hopeful. You’ll learn more about his story when you transcribe my notes. I read what you did yesterday. Commendable job.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, pleased with myself for a job well done.
‘I’ve left a pile of handwritten pages on your desk. You will find the date they were written in the upper right-hand corner. If you would organize them chronologically, current date on top, that is the order I would like them in when you type them up. They aren’t going to be included in the book, but I need them typed today.’
‘Of course.’
‘I’m glad you’re here, Sarah. I will see you later. I must check on my patients. Oh, and get you a key.’
Dr Geisler thanked Mrs McDougal for breakfast and left me sitting at the table with the San Francisco Examiner. The headlines RAF Rips at Berlin: Fires Rage and Jap Fleet Nears New Guinea jumped out at me.
Here I was, worried about mundane matters, while our soldiers faced the ravages of war and, somewhere in this city, someone’s wife, mother, or daughter was receiving a dreaded visit from a Western Union man.
* * *
Someone had left a flower arrangement on the desk in my office, a simple Mason jar filled with yellow roses, white tulips, and a spray of baby’s breath. There was no card, and I wondered if they were from Zeke. They brightened the room, a singular attempt to override the endless grey outside my window.
The promised pile of notes lay on my desk, waiting for me to sort them. I opened the curtains and the window, turned on the banker’s lamp, and set about my task.
I couldn’t help but read the notes as I organized them. They were written accounts of Dr Geisler’s hypnotherapy sessions dating as far back as 1938. I read of patients who had lost weight, controlled pain, and overcame chronic phobias. Dr Geisler had even cured two children of bedwetting.
I had just settled into a routine, sorting by year, then month, when Bethany came into the room.
‘I’ve come to see how you’re doing today,’ she said. She eyed the pile of papers on my desk and the vase of flowers.
I stretched my neck and flexed my fingers, using the exercises that Miss Macky had taught us to treat the inevitable cramps that arose after long hours of typewriting.
‘Beautiful flowers,’ Bethany said.
‘I don’t know who they’re from. I used to grow roses at my house in Bennett Cove.’
‘Do you miss it there?’ Bethany sat down in the chair next to my desk.
‘No. My memories of Bennett Cove are not good. But I love the beach.’
‘Sometimes it’s difficult to leave the past behind.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll see you at lunchtime.’ She left my office, closing the door behind her.
Through my window, I could hear her enter Dr Geisler’s office. The conversation between them latched on to the spring breeze and flowed into my office, allowing me to hear it as though I were in the same room.
‘Did you buy Sarah flowers?’ Bethany asked.
‘I did. The poor girl deserved a little something. She’s alone in the world, and Jack Bennett’s trial has taken a horrible toll on her. She’s upset over Zeke. You can tell by looking at her.’
‘She’s doing a good job of avoiding him. They met yesterday in the library. They were very intimate at first. There’s no denying they are in love. You can see it between them. But Sarah’s jumpy. I wonder if she knows her own mind, Matthew. She’s at least ten years younger than he.’
‘Sarah’s 26 and Zeke is 34, but Sarah’s an old soul. I think they are good for each other. There’s no need for you to watch her every move, darling. Let’s try to make her feel at home. We must get her a key—’
‘Matthew, don’t try to placate me. We need to finish our conversation. As I told you last night, I’m concerned that you would turn away paying patients, when we are so low on funds. There are patients ready to check in to this hospital and pay us to be here. In order to make the hospital pay for itself, we need to have patients in the beds.’
‘But I don’t have the time to give to them, not now. Can you not see that?’
‘Because you’re off on these séances with Minna? Matthew, darling, please. I love you, but I am so worried. You’ve become obsessed with Alysse, and for some strange reason you think that Sarah Bennett is connected to her. Don’t you realize how absurd you sound? Alysse is dead. This obsession of yours is not healthy.’
I heard the sound of a chair moving on the wood floor. In my mind’s eye, I saw Dr Geisler moving around the desk to sit next to his wife.
‘I can’t explain what I saw at the trial, darling. And as crazy as it sounds, Alysse was there. I know it.’
‘Have you seen her, Matthew? Have you seen her with Sarah?’
‘Well, no, not really. I just—’
‘I can’t talk to you about this, Matthew. Not now. We need to take the patients. These are soldiers with psychiatric injuries, soldiers who need peace and quiet. They need our help, now. The hospital needs the income. We can charge them, and I can get Dr Severton to see to their care. Don’t you see, you need to work, darling? You can pursue this new interest of yours at the weekends.’ Bethany couldn’t keep the desperation out of her voice.
‘Dr Severton could see to the patients. That’s a splendid idea. You know, Bethany, you do have a remarkable business sense. Whatever you think, darling. I trust you implicitly. I know this hospital means the world to you. That’s why you’re the business manager.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’ll see to it right away. How’s Sarah doing? Will she be able to do the job?’
‘She is doing very well,’ he said.
‘Matthew, you realize if the newspapers discover you’ve hired Sarah, they will stake this place out. We’ll get no peace. The sanctuary we offer our patients will be compromised.’
They murmured and for a moment I couldn’t hear what was said between them.
‘What’s bothering you, darling? Something tells me that your worries have nothing to do with Sarah or my interest in the occult.’
‘It’s Minna,’ she said. ‘I’m worried about her. I know that she believes she has a newfound psychic ability, and I realize how interesting that is to you. She thinks that Gregory is alive and has come to get his revenge. She needs more help than we can provide. I know how much you care for her, but I think we are doing her a disservice by allowing her to stay here. This house can only remind her of the past. You don’t believe that Minna is truly a medium, do you? Darling, you are risking your career.’
‘You’re shivering,’ he said.
‘Close the window, please. It’s freezing in here.’
He closed the window. And that was that. I couldn’t hear them any longer.
Try as I might, I couldn’t focus on the stack of notes that needed to be sorted. Rather than sit at my desk, I stood by the door that led into Dr Geisler’s office with my ear pressed against it. I could have left, gone upstairs, packed my things, and slipped out the front door with no one any the wiser. But I had no place to go and no money to get there. I listened until I heard Bethany leave. When the door shut behind her, I slipped into Dr Geisler’s office. He uncapped his pen and started to make some notes on one of the yellow pads that were scattered all around the office.
‘Excuse me,’ I said.
‘Finished?’ Dr Geisler put his pen down.
‘No.’
‘Are you able to read my handwriting?’
‘Yes.’
He studied me and something in my expression must have led him to ask, ‘Is everything okay?’
I pointed at one of the guest chairs that faced his desk. ‘May I?’
‘Please.’ He studied me. ‘Sarah, whatever is the matter?’
‘I can hear everything that is said in this office when the windows are open,’ I said. ‘Since I’m one of those people who needs fresh air, I had my window open this morning.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ Dr Geisler would not make a good poker player. Regret, followed by the flush of embarrassment, washed over his face.
‘Who is Alysse?’
The seconds passed, marked by the ticking of the brass ship’s clock that rested on the shelf behind the desk. He closed his eyes and used his forefinger to massage the furrow that had formed between his brows.
‘Forgive me for being blunt, but I heard everything you and Bethany said. I know no one named Alysse, and I would like you to explain yourself. You said she’s attached herself to me. What does that mean?’
‘Alysse is the sister I lost in the influenza epidemic. She didn’t want to die.’
‘Does anyone?’
‘I’ve seen her. Not like a ghost, white and shimmery like the gothic fiction that my wife loves. I’ve felt her essence, seen glimpses out of the corner of my eye. She’s come to me in dreams, and just when I see her, just when I think I can speak to her, I wake up. I think she is trying to communicate with me.
‘I know you are the key. Sarah, what happened last October? There were no fingerprints found on the gun, and based on Jack Bennett’s shoulder wound, the weapon couldn’t have been fired by you.’
A shiver ran down my spine. I grabbed the arms of my chair, bracing myself as the room started to spin.
‘Take a deep breath,’ Dr Geisler said in a soft voice.
I did as he instructed. The dizziness passed.
‘Sarah, I’m familiar with your case file. I’ve spoken to Dr Upton about your testimony at Jack Bennett’s trial. I’m well aware of your position and the things that you witnessed, the things that the jury didn’t hear. I also have spoken to Zeke, and he told me what he saw. Would you like me to tell you what I think?’
I must have nodded, for he continued to speak.
‘I think your biological mother, Grace Kensington, came to you in spirit form, with the sole mission of protecting you from Jack Bennett. I’m willing to bet that you haven’t seen her again. Have you?’
I shook my head, ignoring the implication of his words, not trusting him enough to confide in him about the weeping noises that had plagued me for weeks.
‘So she fulfilled her quest and crossed over. That’s not so unusual. Spirits are with us all the time. We’re separated by something that no one understands.’ He opened his desk drawer, took out an old picture, and slid it across the desk to me. The picture showed a young woman dressed in a floor-length evening dress. The tilt of her head gave her an air of self-assurance. Her smile radiated warmth. I turned the photo over. On the back, someone had scrawled Alysse, June 1917.
‘Why do you think she’s here?’ I asked.
‘Because I’ve heard her weeping.’ Dr Geisler watched me. ‘You’ve heard it too?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It started after the foreman read the “not guilty” verdict.’
‘She was at your trial, as God is my witness. I felt her presence hovering around you, and I make no claim to any special ability in that regard. I’m afraid she wants me to do something for her, and she wants to use you as the conduit. I know it’s a lot to take in, but all I’m asking is that you listen for her. If she comes to you, please tell me. I give you my solemn word that I will not send you to an asylum. I won’t breathe a word of what you say to anyone. I will treat our communication as sacrosanct. I know you experience things.
‘Zeke knows there’s no way you could have shot Jack Bennett. He’s worried about you. In fact, he approached me about your psychic ability. He thinks you may be a medium. I know that you took a terrible fall off the second-storey landing at Bennett House. Did you know an incident like that can trigger latent psychic abilities?’
