“It’s me,” Davis says, sounding as scared as I am. “You’re allright now. Calm down.”
His embrace is the sweetest thing I’ve ever felt. I burst intotears, dampening the shoulder of his uniform. “Why are you so afraid?”
I point at the operating theater doors.
“Something bad in there?”
Intent on investigating the surgical room, Davis enters thetheater. Waiting in the hallway is an agony. At any second, I expect amurderous scuffle to erupt but hear only the young guard’s footsteps andSwinton’s soft moaning.
My friend returns eventually. “How did you do it?” he asks. “Idoubt I could have.”
New tears form in my eyes—not because I’m sorry for what I didto Harry but in reaction to the awe in Davis’ voice. It’s so misplaced.
He turns cool and efficient. A new hardness exists in his voiceas he begins ordering me about. “I’ll take you back to your unit. I know ashortcut. Get into bed and stay there, even if you hear a commotion. I’llhandle the rest.”
Davis leaves me at the Unresponsive’s door without a word, andI tumble into bed. Hiding under the blankets, I begin shivering, colder than Ihave ever been. The high piercing call of a whistle rings through the night.Each of the guards carries one in the event of an asylum uprising. I pray thatDavis is still unharmed.
As the hours pass, I realize he isn’t. He does not get away fromthis unscathed. That sweet boy, that salt-of-the-earth,honest-as-the-day-is-long fellow, compromises himself and lies for me. I listento the conversation between him and the recently returned Dr. Faust. Davistakes all the blame for the bloody mess I made. He says that Harry tried tothrottle him. Even facing a blade, the inmate would not cease his aggressionand Davis fought back, resulting in his opponent’s stab wounds.
Harry is currently sedated and therefore unable to give anhonest account of his injuries. I assume that Davis removed the scalpels fromthe man’s body and wiped them off, putting them away, save one. He cannotexplain the burned hand to Faust’s satisfaction, try as he may. Sadly, his ruseis all for naught. Titus and Roy know I throw knives, and Faust has experiencedmy burning touch first hand. They must realize every word out of Davis’s mouthis a fabrication. The only successful element of his lie is in the timing. MissHoneycutt arrives in a few hours, and Faust wishes to look his best for her. Hesays he needs sleep and cannot deal with the situation now.
It is a temporary respite—until the doctor begins putting thepieces together. Faust will also notice that Anna Loveridge is gone and guess Iplayed a part in her disappearance. Adding to that sin, the Book will come upmissing in his office. It’s presently hidden under my mattress, but I must finda better place for it. A mattress is the first place the guards would search.Sleep eludes me as my brain darts from one doomed solution to another.
A few birds begin to chirp and sing in the trees surroundingIronwood, signaling the approach of dawn. I am transfixed by their sweet,throbbing music, so alive and full of joy it makes me ache.
Will I hear it again tomorrow, or is this morning my last?
28
Deus misereatur.
May the gods have mercy.
Nofood for the inmates today. A messy kitchen is the last thing Matron wants whenMiss Honeycutt tours the facility. Many of the patients have been hidden awayin the abandoned sections of the basement. While the rest of us—the lessrepugnant and more able-bodied—are given new clothing.
I wear a gown perfect for a maid in the schoolroom. It barelyreaches my ankles and has a wide sash, smocking, and tiny pleats. I shudder toguess at the color. Though I can’t be sure, it feels very pink.
“Get walking,” Titus yells. “Everybody into the dining hall.Take your places.”
A human herd, the inmates file into the great room. I holdback, coming in last to stand at the end of the line, nearest the door whereHoneycutt will enter and exit. There is an enormous potted plant to my right,borrowed from a wealthy Ironwood patron to decorate the asylum. I bumped intoit an hour ago, before donning the new dress, when I cleaned the fireplace andlaid fresh wood. It sits against the wall and has many leafy outstretched arms,like a chlorophyll-driven octopus.
“We expect you to make a good impression,” Matron says. “Muchis riding on the outcome of this day.”
I feel the crowd turn as one, watching her as she walks from myside of the room to the other, spouting advice with each step. The hardoutline of the Book presses into my leg, where it rests in the deep pocket ofmy frilly apron. I must hide the evidence lest Faust search my body and take itfrom me. Reaching into my pocket, I remove the Book and tuck it into the backof the potted plant, under a thick cluster of leaves.
Latham circles around to the front of the dining hall. “Are youlistening, patients of Ironwood? These events will directly affect your lives.Behave accordingly.”
I hear the distant sound of pounding hooves and heavy wheels.Then the portcullis being lifted. A coach passes through the entrance of theasylum. It sounds like a well-appointed rig led by strong, athletic horses.Exactly the sort of vehicle that Mama favored when traveling in the country.Matron strides into the vestibule and opens the front door, hissing for Wattsto tuck in his shirt.
“And keep your dirty hands out of sight,” she mutters to Roy.
Dr. Faust went into Ironwood City earlier to fetch MissHoneycutt, and he climbs out of the coach first. The mud sucks at his heel whenthe doctor turns back to help her alight.
“Well she ain’t nothin’ to look at,” Titus whispers.
Roy snickers and Matron thumps him with her fan. “Silence!”
It has been many years since I last met my mother’s friend. Yetthe sound of Miss
