The Boarding House (32 page)
Read The Boarding House Online
Authors: Sharon Sala
Luther turned around to face the window.
Aaron moved a few steps to the right, trying to get a glimpse of Luther’s face. “What’s he doing now?”
Moira frowned. “The usual. Standing at the window with his eyes closed.”
“His eyes are closed? He spends four days painting and then steps back to look at it and closes his eyes?”
She shrugged. “It’s what he does.”
A minute passed, and then another and another and Moira was about to go back to her office when all of a sudden the sun’s rays scored a direct hit on the window and turned it into something holy.
The clear glass panes of the cross lit up as if someone had struck a match to them. The surrounding colors brightened as they bled onto the floor. Luther lifted his arms toward the stunning beauty of what he’d made. He looked like he was glowing.
“Holy Mother of God,” Aaron whispered.
Moira’s vision suddenly blurred with unshed tears.
There was an audible gasp from attendants and patients alike. An old woman started weeping. A man who played checkers with himself every day put his head down on the table and hid his face.
Cinnamon was sitting in front of the television when it happened. She looked up. Her eyes widened, her lips parted with a silent “aahh” then she turned off the television and stood up.
“Ellie.”
Ellie had already made it plainly clear that she wasn’t going to the common room to see some stranger just because he wanted her to. “I’m busy.”
The timbre of Cinnamon’s voice rose perceptibly. “Ellie. Please. You’ve got to see this.”
“No.”
Cinnamon doubled up her fists. “Ellie.”
Ellie jumped then slapped her hand over Cinnamon’s mouth. “Stop screaming. People are staring.”
“Let them look,” Cinnamon whispered, then made her turn around. “Look honey. Look at that.”
Ellie saw the window first, then the cross, then the giant man with long white hair glowing beneath it. He was a magnet and her feet were already moving before she realized she’d taken a step.
Excited that Ellie had surfaced to witness this, Aaron grabbed Moira’s arm.
Still pissed at him, Moira started to pull away. Instead of stepping backward, she moved closer, but not of her own volition. What the hell had Luther done, reversed the field of negativity? She didn’t want to be standing under Aaron’s armpit, but she was.
A trio of nurses had come out of the office to stand spellbound at the sight and Charlie walked up behind Aaron with tears on his face. “Dr. Tyler, what’s happening?”
“I don’t know.”
No one knew what would happen next, least of all Ellie. She just kept moving toward the man and the colors coming through the window. “Who—”
Still silhouetted against the light, Luther slowly turned to face her. His immense size and the glow around him made her forget what she was going to say. Startled, she quickly covered her face as if she’d looked upon something she shouldn’t have seen.
“Hello, Ellie. I’ve been waiting for you.”
The voice knocked at her soul. She had no other option but to let it in.
“Do you like the window? I made it just for you.”
Hearing the voice elicited the same kind of fear she used to have knowing the monster was coming, only this time it wasn’t fear for herself. It was a fear of discovery she wasn’t ready to face. She moaned beneath her breath.
“Look at it, Ellie. Open your eyes. Face your fears.”
She wanted to—tried to—meant to—yet couldn’t bring herself to move—never heard him leave.
It was the sudden sense of being alone that made her look up. She was standing in the light, bathed in a kaleidoscope of colors with her fists clasped against her belly. She lifted her face to the light. “God, was that You?”
No one answered. It was disappointing, although she didn’t really expect it. He didn’t answer her prayers, so it stood to reason He wouldn’t be answering her questions either.
“The window is beautiful. Thank you for making it for me, but just so you know, I’m still really mad at you. I guess you know Wyatt killed Daddy. I’m sure you also know I’m not sorry he’s dead.”
Ellie looked up at the window again, unaware there were tears on her face. “I’m not going to pray. Thank you again for the window.”
When Ellie turned, she realized everyone was staring. She heard Wyatt whisper in her ear. “Keep your chin up and start walking.”
“Did you see him?” Ellie asked.
“Yes.”
“Who do you think it was?”
“I don’t know, Ellie, just walk.”
So she did, all the way to where Charlie was standing.
“Ellie, is that you?”
Ellie nodded. “Yes, Charlie. It’s me. I’m ready to go back to my room.”
Charlie didn’t say a word to her all the way back, for which Ellie was grateful. When she got to her room, she closed the door behind her then collapsed on the bed, too stunned to talk. It didn’t stop everyone else from talking to her at once.
Cinnamon was bugging her. “What did he say to you? Did he tell you who he was?”
Wyatt slipped into protective mode. “Leave her alone. Can’t you see she needs to be left alone.”
Sophie sat down on the bed beside Ellie. “Atone? Who needs to atone?”
And beneath the conversation, the baby kept crying in a plaintive and weak little wail.
“Stop talking. All of you, stop talking.” Ellie pulled the pillow over her head and rolled over onto her side.
Sophie muttered an apology and politely popped off.
Cin lay down beside her. “Poor Ellie. We’re sorry. We only want what’s best for you.”
Ellie threw the pillow across the room and sat up, her face flushed with anger. “Best for me? Exactly what would that be?”
Cin got back in Ellie’s face, unwilling to let her pout herself back into a funk. “You know exactly what that is and don’t pretend you don’t.”
Ellie slapped the mattress. “Oh. Right. Pretend none of you exist.”
“No! Stop pretending we do.”
“Shut up,” Ellie muttered, then rolled off the bed and strode to the window, desperate to change the subject. “Look Wyatt, it’s clouding up. It will probably rain before morning.”
“Yes, I see. Remember when we were little how we used to sneak out of the house during a summer rain and run down to the creek to play? How did that rhyme go that we made up?”
Ellie leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes. “Water on my feet. Water on my head. Water, water everywhere except in Wyatt’s bed.”
Wyatt smiled. “Yeah, that was it. When you get out of here, do me a favor, will you?”
“Yes, always.”
“Remember to laugh.”
As soon as Ellie Wayne
left the common room, everyone went back to their usual tasks. By the time their shifts were over, most of them had come up with a logical explanation for what they’d witnessed. They’d already seen too many weird things working in a psych hospital. Colored glass and a trick of the light were surely nothing remarkable.
Aaron wanted to talk to Ellie, but when he got to her room, he found her lying on the bed with her back to the door. Deciding he would bring up the subject tomorrow in therapy, he left her to her nap.
Ellie heard him come in, but she no more wanted to talk to him than she’d wanted to talk to anyone else. She couldn’t get the man’s voice out of her head or the message that had come with it.
Open your eyes. Face your fears.
Moira was determined to talk
to Luther but felt intimidated by what she’d seen. She found a male nurse and then went to Luther’s room.
But he wasn’t sitting in his usual seat at the window. Instead, he was lying in bed, laid out with his hands folded across his chest and his eyes closed. It was so like a viewing at a funeral home that it gave her a start. She went straight to his bedside to see if he was ill.
“Luther, it’s Dr. Ferris. Are you alright? Do you hurt anywhere?”
Luther opened his eyes. “Why must you always talk?”
A bit taken aback, it took Moira a few moments to respond. “I guess because that’s my job. I ask questions that will help my patients.”
“Sometimes you need to be still and listen.”
“Is that what you’re doing
. . .
listening?”
He closed his eyes. “Yes.”
“What are you listening to?”
“Prayers. I’m listening to prayers.”
“Because you’re God?”
“Because I hear them.”
Moira opened her mouth.
Luther opened his eyes. His lips weren’t moving, but she heard his rebuke.
She blinked and walked out of the room.
Late that night, after she’d gone home, done a load of laundry and watched a couple of shows she’d recorded on her DVR, she finally crawled into bed. The day had been hot and the cool sheets were a welcome relief. She fluffed up her pillow, stretched out and finally closed her eyes.
Within seconds, she heard a voice.
Be still and know that I am God.
Aaron spent the evening reviewing
the earliest videos from Ellie’s case and found one he’d missed earlier. He was surprised to see that it had nothing to do with the molestations. It was a simple home movie of Ellie and her mother, taken at different times when Ellie was just a baby in her mother’s arms. Since all of her trauma revolved around her father and what she’d first believed was abandonment from her mother, it occurred to Aaron that it might be helpful for her to see her mother in a different light. He put the tape in his briefcase, intending to use it during their next therapy session, ordered Chinese takeout for dinner, and drank a half bottle of wine while waiting for it to be delivered.
Hours later, he lay in his bed wide-eyed and unable to sleep. He’d seen it, but still didn’t understand how a mentally ill patient, colored markers, and a setting sun had turned a wall of windows into a church. Even more disturbing was why it felt like he had witnessed a miracle.
It began to rain just after midnight,
peppering Ellie’s window with the wind-driven drops. When a particularly bright bolt of lightning struck close to the hospital, it lit up her room.
She woke abruptly. “Wyatt?”
“I’m right here,” he said. “Go back to sleep.”
Ellie closed her eyes. “Thank you, Wyatt.”
“For what?”
“For always taking care of me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I love you, Wyatt.”
“I love you, too, Ellie, but one of these days you’re going to have to figure out how to take care of yourself.”
“Not tonight.”
“No, Ellie, not tonight.”
