and what made you think she sent me here? Me, of all people. Why the hell would she send me here?”
“Well, that’s what I was trying to discover. I thought perhaps it had to do with the power in your hands, that she’d asked you to do some secretive research for her. Why, it was the only explanation I could think of. But Mr. Curry, how did you know about this house? I mean, how did you make the connection between what you saw in the visions and … ”
“I grew up here, Lightner. I loved that house when I was a little kid. I used to walk past it all the time. I never forgot it. Even before I drowned I used to think about that house. I aim to find out who owns it and what this all means.”
“Really … ” said Lightner, again in a half whisper. “You don’t
“No, I just said I aim to find out.”
“You don’t have any idea … ”
“I just told you, I aim to find out!”
“You tried to climb over the fence last night.”
“I remember. Now would you mind telling me a few things, please? You know about me. You know about Rowan Mayfair. You know about the house. You know about Rowan’s family-” Michael stopped, staring fixedly at Lightner. “Rowan’s family!” he said. “They own that house?”
Gravely, Lightner nodded.
“That’s really true?”
“They have for centuries,” said Lightner quietly. “And if I’m not sadly mistaken that house will belong to Rowan Mayfair, upon her mother’s death.”
“I don’t believe you,” Michael whispered. But in truth he did. Once again the atmosphere of the visions enveloped him, only to dissolve immediately as it always did. He stared at Lightner, unable to form any of the questions teeming in his head.
“Mr. Curry. Indulge me again. Please. Explain to me in detail how the house is connected with the visions. Or more specifically, how you came to know it and remember it when you were a child.”
“Not till you tell me what you know about all this,” said Michael. “Do you realize that Rowan-?”
Lightner interrupted him:
“I am willing to tell you a great deal about the house and about the family,” he said, “but I ask in exchange that you speak first. That you tell me anything you can recall, anything which seems significant, even if you don’t know what to make of it. Possibly I shall know what to make of it. Do you follow my drift?”
“All right, my info for your info. But you
“Absolutely.”
It was worth it, obviously. It was about the most exciting thing which had happened, outside of Rowan coming to his door. And he was surprised how much he wanted to tell this man everything, absolutely every last detail.
“OK,” he began, “as I said, I used to pass that house all the time when I was a kid. I used to go out of my way to pass it. I grew up on Annunciation Street by the river, about six blocks away. I used to see a man in the garden of that house, the same man I saw last night. Do you remember me asking you if you saw him? Well, I saw him last night by the fence, and back farther, in the garden, and damned if he didn’t look exactly the same as he had when I was a little kid. And I mean I was four years old the first time I saw that guy. I was six when I saw him in church.”
“You saw him in church?” Again the scanning, the eyes seeming to graze Michael’s face as Lightner listened.
“Right, at Christmastime, at St. Alphonsus, I’ve never forgotten it, because he was in the sanctuary of all places, you know what I’m talking about? The crib was set up at the altar rail, and he was back on the side altar steps.”
Lightner nodded. “And you are certain it was he?”
Michael laughed. “Well, given the part of town I come from, I was certain it was him,” he said. “But yes, seriously, it was the same man. I saw him another time, too, I’m almost sure of it, but I haven’t thought about it for years. It was at a concert downtown, a concert I’ll never forget because Isaac Stern played that night. It was the first time I heard anything like that, live, you know. And anyway, I saw that man in the auditorium. He was looking at me.”
Michael hesitated, the ambience of that long-ago moment returning, without a welcome, actually, because that had been such a sad and wrenching time. He shook it off. Lightner was reading his thoughts again, he knew it.
“They are not clear when you’re upset,” said Lightner softly. “But this is most important, Mr. Curry-”
“You’re telling me! It’s all got to do with what I saw when I was drowned. I know because I kept thinking about it after the accident, when I couldn’t focus on anything else. I mean I kept waking up, seeing that house, thinking yes, go back there. It’s what Rowan Mayfair called an idee fixe.”
“You did tell her about it … ”
Michael nodded. He finished the beer. “Described it to her completely. She was patient, but she couldn’t figure it out. She did say something that was very on the money, however. She said it was too specific to be something simply pathological. I thought that made a lot of sense.”
“Let me ask for just a little more patience,” Lightner said. “Would you tell me what you do remember of the visions? You said you had not entirely forgotten … ”
Michael’s faith in the man was increasing. Maybe it was the mildly authoritative manner. But nobody had asked about the visions with this kind of seriousness, not even Rowan. He found himself completely disarmed. The man seemed so sympathetic.
“Oh, I am,” said Lightner hastily. “Believe me, I’m entirely sympathetic, not only to what’s happened to you, but to your belief in it. Please, do tell me.”
Michael described briefly the woman with the black hair, the jewel that was mixed up with it, the vague image or idea of a doorway … “Not the doorway of the house, though, it can’t be. But it’s got to do with the house.” And something about a number now forgotten. No, not the address. It wasn’t a long number, it was two digits, had some very important significance. And the purpose, of course the purpose, the purpose was the saving thing, and Michael’s strong sense that he might have refused.
“I can’t believe that they would have let me die if I had not accepted. They gave me a choice on everything. I chose to come back, and to fulfill the purpose. I awoke knowing I had something terribly important to do.”
He could see that what he said was having an amazing effect upon Lightner. Lightner didn’t even attempt to disguise his surprise.
“Is there anything else you remember?”
“No. Sometimes it seems I’m about to remember everything. Then it just slides away. I didn’t start thinking about the house till about twenty-four hours afterwards. No, maybe even a little longer. And immediately there was the sense of connection. I felt the same sense last night. I’d come to the right place to find all the answers, but I still couldn’t remember! It’s enough to drive a man mad.”
“I can imagine,” said Lightner softly, but he was still deeply involved in his own surprise or amazement at all that Michael had said. “Let me suggest something. Is it possible that when you were revived you took Rowan’s hand in yours, and that this image of the house came to you then from Rowan?”
“Well, it’s possible, except for one very important fact. Rowan doesn’t know anything about that house. She doesn’t know anything about New Orleans. She doesn’t know anything about her family, except for the adoptive mother who died last year.”
Lightner seemed reluctant to believe this.
“Look,” Michael said. He was getting quite carried away now on the whole subject and he knew it. The fact was, he liked talking to Lightner. But things were going too far. “You have to tell me how you know about Rowan. Friday night when Rowan came to get me in San Francisco, she saw you. She said something about having seen you before. I want you to be straight with me, Lightner. What’s all this about Rowan? How do you know about her?”
“I shall tell you everything,” said Lightner with the same characteristic gentleness, “but let me ask you again, are you sure Rowan has never seen a picture of that house?”
