Night Journey (27 page)

“Afraid of who?”

“Ain’tcha never heard of Michael?” Jennie’s lips turned up in a smile. “He’s the mischievous spirit on the second floor. Been here since before this ol’ building was complete. That one’s always on the make when it comes to the ladies. He knows I’m Irish too and he always manages a little goose or hikes up my skirt whenever he’s feelin’ devilish.” She apparently noticed Emma’s alarm and added. “But he’s harmless. He just likes to pull pranks now and then.”

“A spirit? As in ghost?” Emma’d just escaped from a morgue. She wasn’t sure she wanted to bunk with a randy poltergeist.

“Ah, Jennie. I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” said Andy. “Poor Miss Anna won’t get no rest with that scamp lurkin’ about.”

“Wait! I have it,” Jennie’s eyes danced excitedly and she clapped her hands. “We’ll take her up to Mrs. Hardcastle. She’s got that double room with the extra bed and it’s right next door to Mrs. Schmidt’s old room. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

“That’s a great idea, Jennie,” said Andy. He turned toward Emma. “You remember Mrs. Hardcastle, don’tcha?”

Emma shook her head, confused. She’d only been to this place once before and that was—what? More than seventy years in the future? She could hardly explain that to them. Even though she knew this was all just a dream, she still felt compelled to play along. “Sorry. I must have lost my memory while I was asleep.”

“Don’t you worry, Mrs. Schmidt.” Jennie helped her stand and walk toward the elevator. “We’re gonna take good care of you now.”

They rode the elevator to the fourth floor and turned left to a long hallway. A hint of recognition washed over Emma. Everything was the same, yet different. The walls were no longer pink and the formerly green carpet was now red.
Dr. Baker’s Lounge
no longer existed. But she recognized the door when they turned right at the end of the hall—the same room she and Zan had shared a lifetime ago, according to this dream.

Emma held her breath as Andy knocked on the door. She heard the creak of bedsprings and the shuffle of feet across the floor. The rasp of the deadbolt echoed in the cavernous hallway and the door creaked open.

A tiny, elderly woman peeked out through the open door, a worried expression on her wrinkled face. “Is something wrong?” She pulled her robe closed with one hand, glanced at the three people standing in the hallway, and then gasped. “Anna! Oh, my God. Where have you been? They told me you were dead!”

Emma’s breath caught when she recognized her. This was the woman in her dream who had saved her from the evil nurse in the portal. But then, she was still dreaming, wasn’t she? Which dream was she having now? She was getting confused, with all the different dreams converging.

A sudden, stabbing pain sent her reeling and clutching her stomach. The others hustled her inside and laid her on the spare bed. She bit her lip and writhed in agony. What was the matter with her and why couldn’t she wake up? And then she realized that in all her previous nightmares, she’d never before experienced pain or cold or hunger. The only tangible sensation she’d felt before was fear.

And then it hit her. This wasn’t a dream! It was really happening. It was like she’d traveled back in time. But why was she inhabiting a stranger’s body? Was she losing her mind?

Unbearable anguish jerked her thoughts back to the present. It gnawed at her innards and she almost fainted. She writhed in agony, her misery complete. She clutched her stomach and stared at the three worried faces that hovered above her. She felt herself drifting away.

“She’s going into shock!” Jennie shouted. “The pain’s gonna kill her. She needs morphine.”

“Here, give her some of mine.” The old woman reached into a bedside cabinet and pulled out a hypodermic needle and a vial of liquid. She handed them to Jennie and jerked up Emma’s sleeve. “She needs a constant supply to keep her as comfortable as possible.”

Jennie expertly filled the syringe and injected it into Emma’s arm. Within seconds the pain began to subside and Emma relaxed. Her mind soared briefly and then returned to earth. She felt one hundred percent better. But the word
morphine
worried her. She knew how easily a person could become addicted to such a powerful drug.

“Anna? It’s Theodora. Do you remember me?”

Emma blinked. Theodora? Wasn’t she the ghost who broke the champagne glasses? She sat up in the bed and looked around the room. The slanting attic walls looked familiar, but they were now plastered white. No turquoise paint or gold stars. A small iron cot replaced the velvet swooning couch. There was no sign of a television, microwave, refrigerator,
or
coffee maker.

She peered into the other bedroom and her heart skipped a beat when she saw it—the little door in the wall. How did she go from being trapped inside the wall to being trapped in time?

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember anything,” said Emma.

“Mrs. Hardcastle, would it be all right if Mrs. Schmidt stayed in here with you until we can make other arrangements?” asked Jennie. She explained how Anna had been mistakenly declared dead, taken to the morgue, and subsequently rescued. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience…”

“Of course she can stay,” interrupted Theodora. “I’m just happy Andy was so alert. He’s quite the hero.”

Andy blushed and shuffled his feet. “I’d do just about anythin’ for Miss Anna.”

The entire group looked up when the bathroom door creaked open. A beautiful young woman wearing a pink flannel nightgown peeked out. She cautiously entered the room, holding a huge gray cat in her arms. It jumped down and ran toward Theodora, purring and rubbing against her legs.

“Ivy, dear. Did we wake you up? I know it’s awfully early.” Theodora patted the cat on the head before turning back to Emma. “Anna, this is Ivy Turner. They gave her your old room a few days ago. She shares a connecting bath with us. And my cat, Bob, of course.”

“Ivy Fuller,” she corrected. “It’s nice to meet you, Anna. I heard the voices in here and I was just wondering if everything was all right.”

“Sorry, dear. Of course. Ivy Fuller.”

Emma’s eyes widened. Ivy Fuller. This was Zan’s grandmother! But where was Grandpa Harry? She remembered the story at the wedding rehearsal dinner about Jonathan’s parents having met in Eureka Springs in 1938.

She searched her memory, trying to recall Moonbeam’s predictions when she’d read her palm. Hadn’t there been something about taking a trip that would change her life? Then she remembered the final prediction—the one about Emma dying and coming back. Could that be what had happened? But if it were true, what was she doing so far back in the past? Would she be able to get back to Zan, or would she be trapped here forever?

Theodora turned back to Jennie. “Where has Anna been all this time? Nurse Roberta told me she’d passed away almost three weeks ago.”

“She’s been down in the Annex. Miss Amiss calls it the Intensive Care Unit,” Jennie answered. “But she doesn’t let the newer nurses like me go in there.”

Andy snorted. “It’s more like an asylum, if ya ask me. I seen what goes on in there—and it ain’t pretty.”

“Anna, do you remember what happened to you down there?” asked Theodora.

“I don’t remember anything at all.” Emma shook her head. “Everything’s a blank.”

“Sounds like you’ve got amnesia,” Theodora replied, then turned back to Andy. “What were you talking about just then, Andy. What goes on in the Annex?”

Andy lowered his voice and glanced around the room. “Turrible stuff goes on in there, Miz Hardcastle. I heard ‘em say that when somebody couldn’t pay no more but didn’t have no place else to go, they just took ‘em in there and let ‘em waste away ‘till they died. That’s prob’ly whut happened to Miss Anna.”

“How could that happen?” asked Theodora. “Don’t you think somebody would hear them screaming?”

Andy bent low and whispered. “They got th’ walls all padded up and sound-proofed. Only reason they let me in there that one time was ‘cause they needed me to help ‘em with a man whut wuz too big fer em ta handle by theirselves.” He glanced toward the door and nodded. “They think I’m too stupid to know better. But I ain’t. I know what they’re doin’. Told ma Pa ‘bout it once. I wuz hopin’ we could help put a stop to it all, but he told me to shutup, not ta go gettin’ myself fired. Said we needed the money too bad ta go causin’ trouble. ”

Everyone froze when someone rapped against the hallway door. The cat’s eyes blazed and his ears folded back. His hair instantly fluffed and he growled low before slinking toward the door in the wall. He nudged it open with his nose and disappeared inside.

A hush settled over the room and Emma’s heart quickened in dreadful anticipation. Ivy scurried back through the bathroom and closed her bedroom door. Andy and Theodora stood like statues, waiting. Jennie turned pale and wrung her hands as the door swung open.

Emma’s nightmare had returned.

“
What
is going on in here?”

A tall woman dressed in a gray robe and tattered house shoes stood at the door. Her eyes blazed with fury as her stare raked across the group. Emma shuddered when she recognized the glaring face—the same one that haunted her dreams.

Even without the nurse’s cap and uniform, there was no mistake. But now, instead of a scar, an angry red lesion extended across her left cheek. Emma tried to tear her eyes away from the festering wound, but she was too late.

The woman automatically raised her hand toward her face when she noticed Emma’s stare. “What’re you lookin’ at?” Then surprise replaced fury. She gasped and pointed, then backed away. “This can’t be! You’re dead…”

Theodora chuckled. “Oh, lighten up, Roberta. You act like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

Roberta bristled, then turned her attention to Jennie. “I demand an explanation. Right now.”

Jennie cowered, her face ashen. “Well, ya see, Miss Amiss…”

“I found Miss Anna locked away in th’ cooler,” interrupted Andy. “She warn’t really dead. Dr. Ballew made a mistake.”

“But that’s impossible. I checked her vitals myself.” Roberta appeared uncertain, and then she stared at Emma with suspicion in her eyes.

Emma opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out. She felt her new body break out into a cold sweat. Anxiety overwhelmed her. After the horrible dreams she’d been having, coming face-to-face with the nurse terrified her.

“Leave her alone, Roberta. Don’t you think you and your cronies have put her through enough already?” asked Theodora. “You gave her room away, so she’s going to stay here with me.”

“Who made this decision?” Roberta’s eyes narrowed. She glared at Jennie and Andy. “She doesn’t have any more assets to pay for further treatment. She can’t stay here.”

“
I
decided,” replied Theodora. “Dr. Baker’s been well paid for his services. What happened to her sapphire earrings?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Roberta looked surprised at Theodora’s remark and then shifted her eyes away.

“As I recall, one of Dr. Baker’s policies is that he will never turn away someone who needs help if they have no money. Isn’t that true?”

Roberta ignored Theodora’s question and said, “But we thought Mrs. Schmidt was dead.”

“Well, then. There’s nothing more to discuss, is there?” Theodora put her hand on Roberta’s arm and steered her out the door. “Everyone makes mistakes. Anna will stay here with me and you will continue her treatments.”

Theodora closed the door and the group expelled a collective sigh of relief when they heard the bad tempered nurse stomping up the north penthouse stairs. Jennie sniffed and wiped a tear from her face. Moments later, Ivy paused in the connecting bathroom doorway.

“Is it safe to come in?” she asked.

“With her, you never know,” said Theodora. “We should keep our voices down.”

Jennie turned to Andy. “We oughta get back down to our posts or there’ll be hell to pay from her. Will you be okay now, Mrs. Schmidt?”

Emma nodded, suddenly feeling very tired. Now that Nurse Amiss was gone, the effects of the morphine were making her relax. All she wanted to do was sleep.

“I’ll see to her,” said Theodora. “You and Andy should get back to your duties. Ivy, go back to bed dear. It’ll be morning soon enough.”

When the others left, Emma settled back against the pillow. Her eyelids fluttered and drowsiness swept over her. She’d worry about what was going to happen tomorrow. Theodora gently stroked her hair and then pulled the covers up around her chin. The fragrance of lavender hung in the air and the warm memory of a similar moment flitted across her mind before sweet oblivion overtook her.
Emma awakened to excruciating pain. A thousand burning knives stabbed and twisted in her gut and she writhed in agony. She groaned and clutched her stomach. What could be causing her so much pain?

“She’s awake.”

Emma stared up through a fog of misery when she heard the voices. She moved her hand, but pulled it back when the knives stabbed again. Someone picked up her hand and poked her in the arm with something sharp. And then the pain drifted away and her mind cleared. She blinked and focused her eyes.

“Anna? Can you hear me?”

Confusion overtook her. She stared at the elderly woman and the young girl who hovered nearby. Then she remembered. Theodora and Ivy. The nightmare was reality.

She sat up and gazed around the room, her heart pounding. Sunlight flooded through the windows in Theodora’s room, which connected with hers. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost noon, dear. We didn’t want to disturb you,” replied Theodora. She held a glass of orange juice. “Would you like something to drink?”

“Yes, please,” replied Emma. She licked her dry, cracked lips in anticipation. Her hands shook, so Theodora guided the cup to her lips. She drank it all and then collapsed back onto the pillow.

Ivy brought a tray with two hard-boiled eggs and crackers and set it on the bedside table. Emma watched as she picked up a knife, buttered the crackers, and then sliced the eggs. She placed them on the crackers and offered them to Emma, one at a time.

“Thank you,” said Emma after finishing the food. She remembered that Zan had once told her his grandmother had worked as a nurse’s aide at a veteran’s hospital during World War II. “You’d make a good nurse.”

“I think I’d like to do that someday,” Ivy replied and then gave Emma more juice to drink.

“What’s today?” asked Emma.

“Monday.”

Emma glanced at Theodora before plunging ahead. No matter how strange it would sound, she had to know the answer to the next question. “What’s the day, month, and year?”

Ivy looked surprised, but Theodora answered. “It’s Monday, October 24th, 1938.”

“That’s what I thought.” Emma turned her head and stared at the wall. For a moment, she’d hoped Theodora would say 2011.

“Well, I’d better get back to my room before Miss Amiss catches me in here.” Ivy smiled and disappeared back through the bathroom. The big gray cat jumped down from the windowsill and trotted after her.

Emma glanced at her arm, saw the needle mark, and panicked. “Theodora, should you be giving me these injections? I don’t want to become a drug addict.”

Theodora sighed, took Emma’s hand, and patted it gently. “You really don’t remember anything, do you?”

“Not a thing.” Emma looked down at her hands. The sickly, yellowish skin was freckled and bony, with short broken nails. They were the hands of a stranger’s, yet they responded to her mind as if they belonged to her. She shuddered at the memory of the gaunt face with the hollow eyes she’d seen in the mirror. Even her voice sounded strange. She still found her predicament hard to believe. And then a terrifying thought struck her. She almost choked on her words. “Am I dying?”

“Yes, dear. We both are,” Theodora replied. “It’s too late for you and me. Our cancers are well advanced, so the morphine is the only thing that makes our existence bearable. We knew that before we came here, but we both wanted to believe what Dr. Baker told us. He was our last hope.”

“And Ivy? What about her?”

Theodora waved her hand. “Ivy’s completely healthy. The only thing that’s wrong with her is she’s pregnant. And in my opinion, I don’t consider that an ailment.”

“Ivy’s pregnant?” Emma gasped. “Then what’s she doing here?”

Theodora slumped down in a chair. “Her horrible father sent her here. She told me all about it.” With frequent pauses for breath, she related the story of Ivy’s marriage to Harry, her subsequent annulment, and her imprisonment by her father. “She’s been here about three weeks, but she’s refusing treatment for her
cancer
.”

“Why does her father think she has cancer?”

“Ivy doesn’t think he really believes it. But before her mother committed suicide, she left a note indicating Ivy had cancer. And of course, Dr. Baker diagnosed her with it, like he does with everybody.” Theodora sniffed. “I met her mother when she was a patient here and supposedly Dr. Baker cured her of cancer, but Ivy says it was all in her head. She thinks her father is using it as an excuse to send her here in hopes she’ll have a miscarriage.”

Emma’s heart lurched when she did the math. It was October 1938 and Ivy was pregnant. She would have the baby in the spring of 1939—and she remembered Jonathan Fuller—who would one day become her father-in-law. His birthday was April 15, 1939. If she lost this baby, it would mean Zan would never be born either. She would never meet him, marry him, or love him. Her mind reeled at the possibility.

“We’ve got to do everything we can to see that nothing happens to either Ivy or her baby.” Emma sat up and reached for Theodora’s hand. “We can’t let those monsters hurt her. We’ve got to figure out a way to help her husband, too.”

Theodora smiled and squeezed Emma’s hand. “Anna, you are just the sweetest thing. You don’t even know her, yet you’re ready to fight her battle. What do you propose we do?”

Emma sank back onto the pillow, lost in thought. What could she do? She was caught in some kind of time warp, trapped in a body that was quickly being eaten away by a malignant tumor. What she wouldn’t give for a computer and the World Wide Web right now. With those tools, you could find the answer to just about anything.

The sound of knocking and people shouting in another room arrested Emma’s attention. She sat up and strained to hear. “What’s going on?”

Theodora gazed in the direction of the noise and replied, “Sounds like Roberta’s trying to get Ivy to take her medicine again.” She chuckled and walked toward the bathroom so she could hear better. “That girl’s got a lot of spunk.”

“What are they trying to give her?”

“Some sort of herbal concoction Dr. Baker’s dreamed up.”

“Do you know what kind of herbs he uses?” Emma realized that the knowledge she’d gained of herbal remedies while designing the computer database for Zan’s pharmacy might come in handy now.

“I don’t know. He keeps his formulas a secret, but he claims they’re just natural herbs.”

“Well, she’s right about refusing the treatments. She shouldn’t let him give her anything she’s not sure of.” Emma tried to rise, but she didn’t have the strength. “The right combination of certain herbs can cause uterine contractions and she could lose the baby.”

“Now how did you know that? Was your granny one of those hillbilly medicine women?”

“Something like that.” Emma smiled, remembering the times she and Zan had discussed the various herbs and their effect on humans. She flinched when she heard the rap on the door to their room. “Oh, no. Not that awful nurse again.”

Theodora hobbled toward the door and pulled it open. Emma sat up in bed and gasped when she recognized the short little man in the white suit, lavender shirt, and purple tie standing next to a glowering Nurse Roberta. She’d seen his face before in pictures at the Crescent Hotel.

He shifted the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other, walked straight toward her, and reached for her hand. She shrank back, but not before he’d grabbed her with a firm grip. “Welcome back, Mrs. Schmidt. Don’t you remember me? Dr. Norman Baker, at your service.”

Emma trembled beneath his penetrating gaze. She remembered the stories on the ghost tour about how he charmed innocent victims into believing he could cure their health problems and then swindled them out of their money and property. Is that what had happened to Anna Schmidt?