Читать книгу Haunting at Remington House - Laura V. Keegan - Страница 14

Tom jumped to his feet. Every hair on the back of his neck stood up as an icy gust of air wafted across his body. Damn drafty house! He went back to the kitchen, got another beer and returned to the living room. Listening to the storm still raging outside, he paced the floor and remembered the months following his release from Jamestown Psychiatric Hospital.

***

By August, Dr. Gerard felt Tom was well on his way to recovery and acceptance of Elise‘s death. After six months of isolation in the private clinic at JPH, Tom was released to the isolation of his Jamestown home. I played the game very well, Tom thought. No one suspected the truth. Not for a moment did anyone believe that I was responsible for Elise’s death. No one that is, except me. I will always know the truth.

For over a year, Tom hadn’t ventured out of his house. He saw no one except Nate, and on occasion Cassie, who came when she could. She did her best to encourage him and to help him out of his dark, depressed moods.

Cassie’s nature was one of joy and optimism. She simply couldn’t understand Tom’s inability to get over Elise’s death or his refusal to leave Jamestown. “Tom,” she pleaded, “you have to stop grieving. You need to get out of this dreary house. Come with me to New York City for a while. I’d love to introduce you to some of my friends there. And there are so many things we could do. I know you’d start to heal if you’d get away from here. Won’t you at least try? If not for yourself—for me?” With every visit came the same discussion. She begged him to leave—he refused.

It was Nate who finally convinced Tom that change had to come. Tom was in Elise’s sitting room staring absently out the window as the sun set, the sky glowing crimson and orange.

Tom seemed not to notice when Nate came in the room. “Tom, can I have a word with you?” Nate asked. Tom gave a slight nod to acknowledge Nate’s presence. “I’ve worked for you for over ten years—good years—most of them. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking the last few weeks. I’ve come to a decision. It’s time for me to find another job.”

“What?” Tom asked. “What did you say?” Nate finally had his attention.

“I’ll find a replacement before I go. I know a few people who you might want to interview. I’d be glad to call them for you, if you like.”

“Nate, what’s the problem,” Tom asked. “Is it your brother again? Take off and do whatever you have to do. Take all the time you need. You don’t have to quit, for God’s sake.”

“No, Harold’s not the problem—it’s . . .”

Tom interrupted, “I know you have many responsibilities, you carry a heavy load. Tell me what I can do to help. Are you having financial problems? How much do you need?”

“This has nothing to do with money—or my brother. Don’t make this harder for me than it already is.”

“What is it then? You’ve been my friend and right hand for as long as I can remember. Hell, you know I always have your back. Be honest with me.”

“I’m trying to. You need to listen to me. This is hard to say. As your friend, I’ll tell you—you’re not the Tom Gardner I once knew. Since Elise died, you’ve given up on everything that once mattered to you. You go through the motions of being alive, but that’s all.”

Tom started to say something; Nate ignored him. “I know you loved Elise, but she’s been dead for almost two years. Before your marriage went on the rocks you were a strong, levelheaded man. I admired you. Looked up to you. You were like a big brother to me.

“But if you’re going to spend the rest of your life talking to a dead woman, I won’t . . . can't, be a party to it any longer.” Nate pounded his fist on the back of the easy chair. “Damn it Tom! Don’t look so surprised. I hear you whispering and carrying on as if Elise was here with you.

Nate stood his ground, silenced Tom when he started to speak. “I’m not finished yet. When you came home from the sanatorium, I thought, with time, you’d get back to your life. But you haven’t. I wish I knew how to help you, but I don’t. It’s all on you now. If you want to spend the rest of your life mourning, that’s your choice. I want no part of it!” Nate yelled, his nostrils flares, his face turned beet red.

Tom was unarguably angry, his hands clenched in tight fists.

Still Nate went on, motioning Tom to be quiet. “We all have problems. You always told me to be a man, to stand up and face my problems. I’ve tried to do that because I knew you were right. You need to take your own advice. Elise is dead. You need to face it—she died despising you. We both know it.”

“That’s enough!” Tom shouted, jumping up and standing face to face with Nate. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I wasn’t blind, Tom. Sure, maybe she loved you once, but for whatever reasons, Elise stopped loving you years ago. Why you stayed together, I’ll never know. I can only guess she stayed for the financial security you gave her. But I saw how she looked at you, how she avoided you. She couldn’t stand to be in the same room with you. She isn’t—wasn’t—worth it. Until you face up to that, you’ll never get over her. My advice to you is to get out of this house and forget about Elise. Go somewhere else. Maybe you’ll even find someone else, someone who deserves you.” Nate turned away and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Tom’s anger was all-consuming. Never in his entire life had he been so angry. He paced the room becoming more agitated with every step. He slammed his fist on the desk each time he passed it. Tripping on the desk’s leg, he flew into a blind rage and grabbed a brass bookend, hurling it at the wall. Seeing Elise’s collection of first-edition books on the shelves, he began throwing them across the room, smashing the expensive glassware displayed on the credenza. Still not satisfied, he picked up a heavy, antique gold-etched urn. With an animal-like yell, he threw it against the fireplace wall. Nate ran into the room as Tom picked up a tiffany lamp.

“What the hell! Tom! What are you doing?”

“Come on. Help me. This was Elise’s favorite room—I’m going to tear it apart. Either join in or get the hell out of here!” Tom was laughing and—for the first time in a very long time—in complete control.

“Now this is the Tom Gardner I know!” Nate yelled.

Elise, merely a puff of energy, felt her first real pang of strength. The seeds of revenge were planted. She retreated to her bedroom and disappeared into the mirror.

An hour later, pouring from a surviving bottle of fine brandy, Tom and Nate toasted, “To a new beginning.”

***

Tom smiled. There was comfort in that memory. It seemed such a long time ago—that first day of a long journey leading him here. Nate had been right, of course. He could not let Elise’s memory continue to haunt him. He may be alone, but there was no reason to be afraid of that.