Night Journey (31 page)

“It’s all right. He’s gone now,” said Theodora. Ivy clung to the frail old woman.

Ivy wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and turned to face Cordelia. “What did you mean about Harry in the morgue?”

Cordelia appeared blank. “I don’t know, dear. This was my first experience with transfiguration.” She shuddered. “Usually, the spirits simply talk to me and I relay their messages. But this time, Nantan couldn’t hold them back—there were so many of them.”

“So many what?” asked Emma. “Spirits?”

Cordelia nodded, her brow knitted as she glanced around the room. “I’ve never seen anything like it. This place is full of earthbound spirits, begging for help…so much sorrow and despair…they’re overwhelming.” She shuddered, leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes.

Theodora rose and assisted Ivy from her chair. “Ivy needs to lie down for a while. She mustn’t be subjected to any more stress. Come on, dear.” Ivy went with Theodora through the connecting bathroom door, leaning against the old woman’s stooped shoulder.

Emma noticed the broken music box in the far corner. She bent over to pick up the pieces and a miniature photograph of an early twentieth century family fell out from a thin compartment between the base and the lid. She stared at the young man, woman, and two babies. She turned it over and read the inscription on the back—
Caleb, Winifred, Ivy & Danny – Christmas 1921
.

So this was the Turner family during happier times. Emma had never seen any pictures of Caleb or Winifred before and she had only heard about the baby boy. When things settled down, she would ask Ivy about it, but now was not the time. She placed the picture back where she found it, screwed the lid back in place, and set the powder box on the card table.

Cordelia gathered the objects on the table into her bag and then helped Emma move the card table and chairs back. She picked up her shawl and draped it across her head and shoulders. “This was an extraordinary experience, but I must be going now.”

“Thank you for coming, Cordelia,” said Emma, more confused now than ever. She couldn’t stop thinking about her brother’s message, or the one from Ivy’s father. What did they mean?

Cordelia stopped suddenly before she reached the door and tapped the side of her head. “I am so forgetful. Can you please tell Ivy something for me? It’s very important.”

“Of course.”

“Tell her I got a letter from her Aunt Tyme. She and her husband are doing fine. She says Clyde has been very lucky at the race track and she sent a rather large sum of money to Ivy and Harry, in care of me.” Cordelia gazed at Emma expectantly. “Since we know Harry’s coming back soon, what do you think I ought to do with it? Should I open a bank account in their name?”

Emma drew in her breath at a sudden thought. The words
race track
jumped out in her mind. She’d been listening to the radio this morning and the announcers had been talking about the upcoming horse race on Tuesday at Pimlico, Maryland. Jennie had said Dr. Baker and Dr. Ballew were excited about the money they hoped to win betting on War Admiral.

“Today is Sunday, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yes…Sunday, October 30th. Why?”

Emma bubbled over with excitement when she thought about the DVD she’d forgotten to return to Blockbuster before she and Zan had left on their trip. The late fees were probably piling up by now, but that was okay. She and Zan had enjoyed the movie so much; they’d watched it twice and she remembered the date of the story’s climax—which would be the day after tomorrow.

“Cordelia, do you know anybody here who can place bets for you?”

“Um hm. Frank at the feed store is the town bookie.”

Emma placed her hands on Cordelia’s shoulders and stared into her eyes. “You must trust me on this—take Ivy’s money to Frank and put every penny on Seabiscuit.”

Harry stared out the car window at the retreating scenery, grateful for his liberty. He’d been imprisoned for over three months, so freedom was a true and precious blessing. The cold, wet landscape and the growing gloom looked like heaven to him. He’d despaired of ever seeing Ivy again, but now the miracle had happened. He was on his way back to Eureka Springs to get her. He bowed his head in a silent prayer of thanks.

“You okay, Harry?”

“Hm? Oh, yessir.” Harry opened his eyes and smiled when he felt a touch on his shoulder. “Just givin’ thanks to the Lord.”

Sydney grinned and steered the car around a crooked mountain turn. “Good men like you don’t belong in jail.”

“Sure do appreciate all your help, Sydney,” said Harry. “My Pa was a preacher, an’ he’dve been real upset if he’d thought I was on the wrong side of the law.”

Sidney laughed. “Mine’s a Rabbi, and he’s not happy I went into law.”

“Well, I’d sure be up a creek if you hadn’t.”

“We’re still not out of the woods, you know,” Sydney warned. “I had to do a lot of fancy footwork to get Judge Trimble to grant a Writ of Habeas Corpus to hear your appeal. You wouldn’t have been released without Caleb Turner’s testimony, so we’ve got to make sure we do everything by the book. If we don’t show up in Federal Court in Little Rock on Wednesday, he’ll send you back. Are you sure you don’t want to wait until after the hearing to get Ivy?”

“Oh, no, Sydney!” Harry’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of waiting. “You heard what Margot said. She’s worried Dr. Baker might cause Ivy to lose our baby.” He choked back a sob. “I just gotta get her before it’s too late.”

“That’s okay, Harry. I understand.” Sydney frowned and grew silent.

“What’s wrong? D’ya think the judge is gonna deny me?”

“Oh, no. Your case is rock solid. I was just trying to think of the best way to tell you something—something that’s going to upset you.”

“What?” Harry’s heart fell as he waited for more bad news.

“Caleb Turner is dead.” Sydney maneuvered the car into a parking space in front of the county jail. “His house burned last night. The firemen found him lying in bed with a cigar in his hand, but the police don’t think it was an accident.”

Harry gasped. “How come?”

“Because his whole house
and
his body had been soaked in gasoline. Thank goodness he swore out his statement in time.”

“Poor Mr. Turner…such a horrible thing to happen…poor Ivy.”

“Mm hm. Same thing happened to that doctor here in Eureka last summer.”

“You mean Doc Pruett? Who would’ve done something like that?”

“If I had to guess, I’d say one of Jared Covington’s goons.” Sydney set the parking brake and opened the door. “You stay out here and wait while I talk to the sheriff. Okay?” He bowed his head against the wind and walked away, splashing through the puddles on the sidewalk.

Harry waited in the car while Sydney went inside the jailhouse. He had no desire to ever go back in there. He would spend his time, warm and dry, dreaming about Ivy.

Twenty minutes later Sydney returned. His expression appeared bleak when he climbed behind the wheel of the car.

“Looks like we’re on our own.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sheriff was real sympathetic, especially when I showed him a Federal court order,” replied Sydney. He frowned and stared into space. “But we’re not gonna get any help from him. Apparently, Norman Baker’s gone off the deep end when it comes to defending his hospital. He’s got a whole bunch of hired guards with an arsenal of automatic weapons. The sheriff has been warned to stay away and he won’t send his deputies anywhere near that hospital unless he’s got the National Guard behind him. He says the only people they’re letting through in the evenings are the undertakers, because there’re so many people dying up there—and Sheriff’s not anxious to give the ghouls any more business. I think we’d better wait until morning and hope we can bluff our way through.”

“I can’t take the chance, Sydney. I’m gonna get her one way or another. Tonight.” Harry opened the car door, intent on marching up the hill alone, if necessary.

“Not so fast.” Sydney jerked Harry by the shirt-sleeve. “Don’t be a fool. You’re not gonna do her any good if you’re dead.”

Harry’s eyes widened at the sudden idea that popped into his head. “That’s it! We’ll go see an undertaker.”

“What?” Sydney stared at him as if he were mad—but by the time Harry finished explaining his plan, Sydney was smiling.
Theodora staggered and held her handkerchief to her mouth when she reentered the bedroom. Emma gasped and ran to her aid when she saw her pale face and the red-soaked cloth. “Oh, my goodness! What happened?”

The old woman collapsed onto the bed. Her voice came out as a gurgle before she managed to clear the blood from her throat. “My tumor’s …burst …hemorrhaging …won’t be long…now.”

Bob jumped down from the dresser and stared at Theodora, his back arched and his short tail standing at attention. He mewed softly and hopped onto the bed. He rubbed his head against Theodora’s forehead several times, curled into a ball, and then lay beside her with his head resting on her chest.

Panic swept over Emma at the thought of losing her friend. “Theodora, you mustn’t speak that way. I’ll go call for help.”

“No.” The ancient, claw-like hand gripped Emma’s with obviously waning strength. “Don’t tell…about me…’til after…Harry comes.”

Emma nodded, feeling sick. “All right, but what do I tell Ivy?”

Theodora pointed to her closet. “Luggage…bring my Bible…please.”

Emma pulled out the heavy suitcase, wincing from her own pain, but trying not to let it show. She found the worn black book and carried it to the dying woman. “Here it is. Do you want me to read to you?”

Theodora shook her head and reached for the Bible. Bob meowed when she moved and she stroked his fur to reassure him. She gasped for breath as she opened the Bible to a marked page. Inside was an envelope. “My Will...already written…need a…witness…” Her breathing was labored. “Will…you sign?”

“Of course.” Emma handed her an ink pen from the bedside table.

Theodora signed the document with a shaky hand and then collapsed backward onto the bed. Emma signed beneath, making sure to write the name
Anna Schmidt.

“I feel…at peace…now,” said Theodora. “So grateful…you came back…when you did…will you…make sure…Ivy gets…this?” She handed the Will to Emma. “I never…married…my family…all gone…don’t want…Baker…to get it.”

“I understand. Of course I’ll give it to her,” replied Emma, choking back tears.

“There isn’t…much…just a small ranch…in Texas…between Dallas and…Fort Worth…About fifty acres…and a…farm house.” She had another coughing fit, which left her even weaker and the towel Emma had given her even redder, but she seemed to want to talk. “Several…years ago…fella leased…my land…for horses. Had a…racetrack nearby…called Arlington Downs…but had to close…last year…betting outlawed…in Texas.” She coughed again and struggled for breath. “Maybe it’ll be…worth something…someday.”

Emma listened in amazement. Now she knew how Zan’s family had come to the area where they’d settled. She wondered if the pharmacy, which sat at such a bustling intersection in Arlington, had once been a part of Theodora’s ranch?

“Anna?” Theodora’s breathing rattled and her eyes appeared weary. “You aren’t…really Anna…are you?”

Emma shook her head and wiped away her tears. What was the point in lying any more? “No. My name is Emma Fuller—and I come from the future.” By the time she’d finished telling her story, her handkerchief was soaked. “And I don’t know if I’ll ever see Zan again. I know this all sounds incredible. Do you believe me?”

Theodora smiled and nodded. “I believe you…I knew…when I saw you…eating Ivy’s ham sandwich…and just now…when you signed the Will…with your…left hand…something was…different…” Theodora relaxed on the pillow and closed her eyes. “Please take care…of…Ivy…I’ll see you…again…soon…” She gasped once, exhaled, and became still.

Emma closed her eyes, her heart aching with sadness. When she opened them again they filled with tears. She wiped her face with the sodden handkerchief and stared one last time at her friend, taking comfort in the knowledge that death had washed away her pain. Desolation swept over her when she realized that her own time drew nearer, yet she still had much to accomplish.

Pulling the blanket up to Theodora’s chin, she smoothed out the wrinkles and tucked her in. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought her merely sleeping. Bob howled mournfully and began licking the old woman’s still face. When she didn’t move, he let out a sigh, curled up on her chest and lay down.

With one last look, Emma slipped the Will into the pouch with Anna’s diary and her ring, and went into the bathroom. She knocked on Ivy’s door, but there was no answer. The doorknob turned and she went inside. “Ivy, are you awake?”

A chill black silence surrounded her. The room was empty.
Ivy awakened to a blinding headache and a sickly, sweet smell that hung in the air. She gasped at her surroundings; she was lying on a canopy bed in a room with darkened windows that curved into a semi-circle, draped with lavender and purple satin.

“Hello, little darlin’. I see you’re awake now.”

Ivy flinched when Dr. Baker’s head popped up from below as he climbed the stairs into the loft bedroom. She shrank back, clutching the purple counterpane to her chin. Where in God’s name was she and how did she get there?

“Sorry we had to take such extreme measures to get you outta your room,” said Baker. He picked up a wet handkerchief from the floor and deposited it onto a table on the other side of the room. “But you wuz so hysterical when I tried to talk to you, I had to do somethin’ to calm you down.” He gestured around the room and grinned. “Welcome to my private penthouse.”

Ivy ignored his bid for admiration and sniffed the air. Her stomach heaved at the odor. It reminded her of the operating room when she’d had a tonsillectomy as a child. What was Dr. Baker referring to? She didn’t recall being hysterical. The last thing she remembered was waking from a sound sleep and seeing Earl’s ugly grin just before something covered her face.

Outraged, she spoke with loathing. “What do you want from me?”

Baker sighed and sat in a rocking chair. “I have some very sad news, my dear.” He reached over and took her hand. She tried to wrench it away, but he held it firmly. “Sorry to tell you this—but your father has passed away.”

Tears formed in her eyes and she looked away. “I already knew.”

“You did?” His eyebrows shot up above his wire-rimmed glasses. “How’d you know? It happened last night, but the St. Louis Fire Marshal called me just a bit ago when he found out you wuz here.” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Somebody been up here ‘n tole ya?”

Ivy ignored his question and asked, “There was a fire? I didn’t know how it happened.”

Baker scratched his head and nodded. “Yep, I’m afraid your home was totally destroyed. Your daddy was in bed at the time.”

“Poor Papa.” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. “What a horrible way to die.”

“There, there, dear.” Baker patted her on the back and tried to embrace her, but she pulled away.

“Please don’t touch me!”

Baker scowled and his lips thinned with displeasure. “There’s more.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigar, and lit it. He wrapped his left thumb around a lavender suspender and leaned back in the chair. “They suspect arson.”

“Arson! But who?”

“Well…” Baker drew on his cigar, blew out a puff of black smoke, and stared at the ceiling. “Coppers arrested your fiancée, Mr. Covington. Apparently, somebody saw him leavin’ your house just ‘fore it burned.”

“Jared?” Ivy’s skin prickled. She’d always known he was bad. But murder? She would never have considered such a thing. “Jared’s in jail?”

“Not any more, I’m afraid.” Baker puffed thoughtfully. “They found him hangin’ in his cell this mornin’.”

Ivy collapsed onto the pillow and digested this new information. Jared was dead, but she felt no emotion, other than surprise. There had to be more to it than what she’d been told. Jared cared only for Jared. He would never have committed suicide.

She closed her eyes, put her fingers to her head, and massaged her temples. Pain stabbed above the bridge of her nose just before she felt a slight shiver in her womb, like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. Her eyes grew wide and her hand flew to her belly, her headache forgotten.

Baker must have noticed her movement. He leaped up from the chair and sat on the side of the bed. Before she could react, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. She gagged at his fetid breath.

“It’s all right, my little darlin’.” He caressed her even as she struggled against him. “I know your secret and it’s okay with me. Never been a daddy b’fore, but I wouldn’t mind helpin’ ya raise this one.” He placed his nicotine-stained hand on her abdomen.

“Get your hands
off
me. You’re old enough to be my grandfather,” shrieked Ivy. She struggled, but Baker chuckled and tightened his grip.

“Maybe what you need is somebody old enough to tame ya. Had my eye on you ever since the night I lost out on yer box supper. But I always win in the end. How ‘bout we get hitched tomorrow—on Halloween! My favorite holiday.”

Ivy spluttered and wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. “I’m not going to marry
you
. Besides, I’m already married—to Harry.”

Baker’s mouth twisted. “Last I heard, that little creep wuz doin’ hard time in the state pen. If that’s his kid ya got there, it’ll be all growed up long b’fore
he
ever sees the light of day. You don’t want your baby’s daddy to be a jail bird, do ya?”

Ivy placed her hands on Baker’s shoulders and pushed as hard as she could, but he held her fast. “Please. Let me go!”

Baker laughed and pulled her closer. “My, my, but you’ve got a lotta spirit. And purty too! You’ll be perfect for the new Madame Tangley. You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ivy shuddered in his grasp.

“No, I s’pose you wouldn’t know ‘bout that.” Baker’s eyes gleamed. “Back b’fore everbody got all googaw over the movin’ picture shows, they used to get their entertainment from live Vaudeville acts. I produced the greatest show of ‘em all—Madame Pearl Tangley, The Mental Marvel. We traveled the entire country puttin’ on mind reading shows that astounded and entertained.”

“What’s that got to do with me?” Ivy stared at Dr. Baker with growing horror.

“Oh, I just had a little yen to reinstate the show on a part time basis. Who knows? Maybe we could even make a movie.”

“What is
she
doing in here?”

Ivy looked up in surprise. Nurse Amiss stood at the top of the stairs, her hands on her hips and her chest heaving. Her damaged face was a glowering mask of rage. Sparkling blue earrings at her ears were shockingly juxtaposed against her crisp white uniform and no-nonsense nurse’s cap.

“Thought I told you to move yourself and your stuff back downstairs, Roberta.” Baker scowled and his face turned red. “I didn’t say you could have them earrings. Take ‘em off right now.” He released Ivy and stood.

“Norman, don’t do this to me.” Roberta’s face paled, and she put her hands to her ears, her lesion becoming even more pronounced. “Ten years I’ve devoted to you—loved you. You can’t just throw all that away now. Not for this little—whore!”