pieces of porcelain on the coffee tray.
‘You need to know that he’s been in an accident,’ Dr Geisler said. ‘He came here to recuperate.’
‘What kind of an accident?’
‘It’s complicated.’ Dr Geisler hesitated, as if measuring his words, careful not to say too much.
‘He’s hurt his knee badly, and he has two broken ribs, which are healing,’ Bethany said, with a quick glance at her husband. ‘He’s got a nasty cut across his face, and another cut on his arm that may have caused some nerve damage.’
‘We can treat Zeke’s injuries with rest, diet, and exercise,’ Dr Geisler said. ‘He’ll be fine, Sarah. But he’s weak and tired. I don’t want you to panic when you see him.’ He picked up one of the notebooks that were stacked on the table next to him. He thumbed through it, as if looking for something important about Zeke. I knew that Dr Geisler was allowing me the time necessary to compose myself.
After a few seconds, he set the notebook back on the table and crossed his legs. ‘I’m sure you have many questions, Sarah, and I will answer all of them, but let me tell you a little bit about the job and what I would like you to do. I am a medical doctor, a psychiatrist. My specialty is healing severe psychological shock and trauma with hypnotherapy. I endeavour to do that at this hospital, although I have some patients – such as Zeke – who simply come here for a rest cure.
‘I’ve written a series of textbooks that need to be typed. I understand you have had some difficulty finding a suitable position. I also discovered you were taking typewriting classes at Miss Macky’s Secretarial College and were doing quite well. Zeke suggested I hire you for the job.’
‘You know an awful lot about me.’ Irritation crept into my voice.
‘It should come as no surprise that Zeke made arrangements for someone to watch over you during his absence. He read the newspapers during the course of the trial, but his hands were tied. For myriad reasons, he couldn’t come forward to help you. Although he couldn’t testify against Mr Bennett, he did want to see to your wellbeing.’
A woman slipped into the room, shutting the door behind her. She had thick, snow-white hair pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. She wore an ankle-length black dress, a relic from a bygone era.
‘Excuse me. Miss Bethany, the nurse asked me to fetch you. Mr Collins thinks there’s an intruder and he’s become quite agitated.’
‘If you’ll excuse me,’ Bethany said. ‘Sarah, I hope to see you later.’
She rushed out of the room with the white-haired woman, leaving me alone with Dr Geisler. He smiled at me. ‘I’m sure we can come to an understanding about your salary—’
‘Dr Geisler, I saw you at the trial. You were there every day, in the front row of the gallery. Not only did you watch my every move, you also took copious notes the entire time. While I appreciate the job offer – God knows I need it –I feel like you’re not telling me the whole truth. Why am I here?’
The room grew cold. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. The soft touch of invisible fingers caressed my cheek.
‘I know a secret.’ The voice came in hushed tones, an ephemeral vibration no one but I could hear. I tried to put it out of my mind and focus on Dr Geisler, but the room was icy. I shivered.
In one fluid movement, Dr Geisler had moved to my side. ‘What is it?’
Too close.
I recoiled, embarrassed at my spontaneous response. That’s when I heard the laughter.
My mind went to my pocket book where the glass bottle that held the opium tincture waited for me, the panacea for situations such as this. Two drops in eight ounces of water, and whatever I heard, whomever I saw, would disappear.
‘Are you cold?’ Dr Geisler grabbed my hand, a look of burning desperation in his eyes, as though he longed for something I did not want to give him. I realized then that Dr Geisler knew all about me. He knew what happened last October, when I encountered the spirit of my dead mother, Grace Kensington.
I jumped up, clutched my pocketbook, and walked with firm deliberation towards the door.
‘Sarah, please wait. I didn’t mean to frighten you.’
I ignored him. When I reached the door, I grabbed the knob, driven by the desire to get away.
‘There’s nothing wrong with you. I believe you are sane.’
I opened the door, ready to flee the Geisler Institute, the chance for employment, and even Zeke, until he said the words that stopped me in my tracks.
‘I can help you with your visions.’
I stood for a moment with my back to him, swallowing my tears. They came anyway, flowing out of my eyes, running in a salty trail down my cheeks. I wiped them away with the sleeve of my sweater before I turned back around.
‘Come sit with me, Sarah. We have much to talk about.’ Dr Geisler had moved back to his seat and gestured for me to return to mine. ‘Forgive my eagerness, but I do want to help you get your life back.’
Clutching my purse to my chest as if it were a shield, I returned and perched on the edge of the sofa.
‘I followed your case when you were at the asylum. I knew full well that you didn’t push your mother – Jessica Bennett – down those stairs. I am also certain she didn’t fall. Jack Bennett tried several times to have you declared insane and get you committed. He used his guile to convince my colleagues that you were insane. I am familiar with you because I am on the board at The Laurels. It was I who convinced my colleagues that Jack Bennett was sorely mistaken. Despite the horrible time you had on the witness stand, I don’t believe for one minute that you attempted to hurt yourself, ever. I don’t know what happened to you at Bennett House last October, but I would like to find out.’
My well-honed defences locked into place. The events at Bennett House were in the past. There they would stay. Nothing would ever induce me to revisit that fateful night last October.
‘Not now, my dear. Not today. Not until you are ready. Are you familiar with hypnosis?’
I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak.
‘I’ve an idea why you see things. I’ve an idea what you see. After all you’ve been through, you don’t trust people. I don’t blame you. The people who you loved and trusted, the very people who should have cared for you, tricked you into the asylum. You had no business being there, of that I am certain. I give you my word that no harm will come to you here.’
‘How can you help me with my visions?’
‘I don’t think they are visions,’ Dr Geisler said. ‘I think you see through the veil.’ He paused, and watched me, gauging my reaction. ‘Ghosts. I think you see them. And if you do, there are things you need to learn so you can have a normal life. You must learn to keep the spirits at bay. They want to be heard, for whatever reason, and if they discover that you can see them, they will never give you a moment’s peace.’
The knowledge that this strange man spoke the truth welled up from some hidden place deep
