The House of Secrets. Terry Lynn Thomas

about your salary—’

      ‘Dr Geisler, I saw you at the trial. You were there every day, in the front row of the gallery. Not only did you watch my every move, you also took copious notes the entire time. While I appreciate the job offer – God knows I need it –I feel like you’re not telling me the whole truth. Why am I here?’

      The room grew cold. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. The soft touch of invisible fingers caressed my cheek.

      ‘I know a secret.’ The voice came in hushed tones, an ephemeral vibration no one but I could hear. I tried to put it out of my mind and focus on Dr Geisler, but the room was icy. I shivered.

      In one fluid movement, Dr Geisler had moved to my side. ‘What is it?’

      Too close.

      I recoiled, embarrassed at my spontaneous response. That’s when I heard the laughter.

      My mind went to my pocket book where the glass bottle that held the opium tincture waited for me, the panacea for situations such as this. Two drops in eight ounces of water, and whatever I heard, whomever I saw, would disappear.

      ‘Are you cold?’ Dr Geisler grabbed my hand, a look of burning desperation in his eyes, as though he longed for something I did not want to give him. I realized then that Dr Geisler knew all about me. He knew what happened last October, when I encountered the spirit of my dead mother, Grace Kensington.

      I jumped up, clutched my pocketbook, and walked with firm deliberation towards the door.

      ‘Sarah, please wait. I didn’t mean to frighten you.’

      I ignored him. When I reached the door, I grabbed the knob, driven by the desire to get away.

      ‘There’s nothing wrong with you. I believe you are sane.’

      I opened the door, ready to flee the Geisler Institute, the chance for employment, and even Zeke, until he said the words that stopped me in my tracks.

      ‘I can help you with your visions.’

      I stood for a moment with my back to him, swallowing my tears. They came anyway, flowing out of my eyes, running in a salty trail down my cheeks. I wiped them away with the sleeve of my sweater before I turned back around.

      ‘Come sit with me, Sarah. We have much to talk about.’ Dr Geisler had moved back to his seat and gestured for me to return to mine. ‘Forgive my eagerness, but I do want to help you get your life back.’

      Clutching my purse to my chest as if it were a shield, I returned and perched on the edge of the sofa.

      ‘I followed your case when you were at the asylum. I knew full well that you didn’t push your mother – Jessica Bennett – down those stairs. I am also certain she didn’t fall. Jack Bennett tried several times to have you declared insane and get you committed. He used his guile to convince my colleagues that you were insane. I am familiar with you because I am on the board at The Laurels. It was I who convinced my colleagues that Jack Bennett was sorely mistaken. Despite the horrible time you had on the witness stand, I don’t believe for one minute that you attempted to hurt yourself, ever. I don’t know what happened to you at Bennett House last October, but I would like to find out.’

      My well-honed defences locked into place. The events at Bennett House were in the past. There they would stay. Nothing would ever induce me to revisit that fateful night last October.

      ‘Not now, my dear. Not today. Not until you are ready. Are you familiar with hypnosis?’

      I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak.

      ‘I’ve an idea why you see things. I’ve an idea what you see. After all you’ve been through, you don’t trust people. I don’t blame you. The people who you loved and trusted, the very people who should have cared for you, tricked you into the asylum. You had no business being there, of that I am certain. I give you my word that no harm will come to you here.’

      ‘How can you help me with my visions?’

      ‘I don’t think they are visions,’ Dr Geisler said. ‘I think you see through the veil.’ He paused, and watched me, gauging my reaction. ‘Ghosts. I think you see them. And if you do, there are things you need to learn so you can have a normal life. You must learn to keep the spirits at bay. They want to be heard, for whatever reason, and if they discover that you can see them, they will never give you a moment’s peace.’

      The knowledge that this strange man spoke the truth welled up from some hidden place deep within.

      ‘Picture two worlds: that of the living and another world across the veil, where souls go,’ he continued. ‘They aren’t up in the sky or down below. They’re around us all the time. Some souls hover between the two worlds. They need help crossing over.’

      ‘How do you know all this?’

      ‘I’ve had a lot of death in my life. My mother died giving birth to my sister, my father died of pneumonia, my sister died in 1919 of the influenza. I have much to be grateful for, but there was a melancholia about me, a sadness which, I believe, came from all that death. I came to a realization not too long ago that this sadness resulted from the loss of my family and caused me to rethink my priorities. The occult has always intrigued me. Injustice infuriates me. I believe that you are a medium who has been treated unfairly by a society that doesn’t even know people with your abilities exist. I want to help people like you.’

      ‘How?’

      ‘I would like to hypnotize you. I can teach you to control what you see by making suggestions to your subconscious mind while you are in a deeply relaxed state.’

      ‘Hypnotize me? I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Would I be awake?’

      ‘You would be wide awake, just relaxed. You will remember everything. There’s no secret or hidden agenda.’

      I shook my head.

      ‘You don’t have to decide now. I don’t want to do anything until you trust me and want to participate. Meanwhile, I do have a job for you. If you get to know me better, start to feel comfortable, and you want my help, we can discuss this further. I do need a typist, so let me tell you about that. Let me tell you about the job, what I expect of you, and we can go from there. Does that sound fair?’

      ‘Can you tell me about Zeke?’

      ‘Of course.’ At Dr Geisler’s earnest tone, I relaxed and melted back into the sofa. ‘My wife doesn’t know about Zeke’s work. As far as she’s concerned, he’s here to recuperate and rest. You know his work – well, he can’t be in the public eye. It’s not safe for him to be in a regular hospital, as you can imagine.’

      ‘He’s not suffering from any psychiatric injuries?’ My voice came out like a croak. ‘He suffered from nightmares before.’

      ‘He has no psychiatric injuries. He needs rest and physical rehabilitation. My wife is a skilled rehabilitative nurse. She will do all she can to help Zeke.’

      ‘How come he never—’ I couldn’t say it out loud, couldn’t acknowledge with words that Zeke never contacted me directly.

      ‘I’m sorry. That is a question best directed to Zeke.’

      Dr Geisler crossed the room to where a pitcher and several glasses rested on a bureau. He poured a glass of water and brought it to me. I took a few sips, not realizing how thirsty I’d become until the cold water hit the back of my throat.

      ‘Will you stay? I’ll pay you one hundred and fifty dollars a month, plus room and board. We’ve a nice room for you. You’ll be close to Zeke, and Mrs McDougal’s a good cook. I think you might be happy here.’

      ‘Yes, I will stay.’ What other choice do I have?

      ‘I’ll have Mrs McDougal show you to your room. She will fix you some breakfast, and we can get started right away.’

      We