Manroot (27 page)

Chapter 40

Ryan awoke; April was not there.
When he rose, his head was muddled and thick, a pounding headache beginning behind his eyes. He went toward the bathroom, stepped on the freshly scrubbed area of rug. The wetness on the soles of his feet made him recall the frightening dream he had had that night. It had been so vivid, the sensation of drowning… Remembering, he began gasping for breath.

April entered the room and felt alarmed at his appearance.
His eyes were wild, his face flushed and feverish.

“
What’s wrong?” she asked, fear hammering wildly within her. She was so foolish for having allowed Kack’s interference.

He sat down in the bedroom chair.
“It was a dream so frightening, so real. I dreamt that I had drowned.”

Sh
e went to him and held his shaking shoulders. “It’s okay, darling, it’s okay,” she repeated, talking and shushing him like she would a frightened child. She held him. They stayed like that for a few minutes.

“
I’ll shower; maybe it will clear my head,” he said.

“
Good idea – maybe it will. Bradley’s dropped in. I invited him to stay for lunch, but not if you’re not up to it…”

“
That’s all right. It’s Saturday – is Kyle coming this weekend?”

A shiver ran up April
’s spine. She had been so foolish – first the blood on the rug and now this. She had been crazy to let Kack try her superstitious magic.

Ryan still looked at her quizzically.
“Well, is he coming this weekend?”

She ran from the room down to the library.
In a rush, she spilled out all the horror to Brad – how Ryan had changed, how he was abusive. She even told him between sobbing of the rapes. She admitted she had allowed Kack to conduct some sort of secret ceremony, and now, this morning, Ryan was asking her if his brother was coming this weekend.

“
It sounds like some sort of amnesia brought about by guilt. Denial is very common. Denying Kyle’s death is just another way of handling his emotional pain,” Bradley explained. “Twins are closer than most brothers, so there’s a tighter bond.”

“
He needs help,” April pleaded. “Please Bradley, please find him help.”

“
I will. I know a fine psychiatrist. I can phone him now.” But he aborted the call as they heard Ryan speaking to Hannah in the hall.

Bradley drew in an audible breath of surprise at Ryan
’s appearance.

“
Hi, guy,” he greeted him nervously.

“
Long time no see. Hi, yourself.” They could see the effort this mundane greeting cost Ryan, for he immediately lowered himself into the nearest chair, his body sagging into the brocade.

“
I’ll see to Hannah,” April said, looking at her watch. “I guess we’ll call it brunch.” She backed out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.

With a feeling of shame, she pressed her ear to the door, but its thick oak only allowed unintelligible sounds to filter thro
ugh. She could not make out the words. She did not leave until she heard the harsh sound of her husband weeping.

Good, she thought.
Maybe with Bradley he could talk, he could say out loud what he was feeling, allow the painful grief to come out.

She went t
o the kitchen feeling somewhat relieved. Bradley was a doctor; he would know what to do. Hannah made her tea. Silently, she sat at the table sipping it slowly. Her teaspoon doodled in the spilled drops on the oilcloth. Later, when Hannah wiped it clean she saw the doodles were a series of small crosses.

“
God help us, Hannah. God help us all.”

Ryan told Bradley of the dream. “It was crazy – it was so real. It was a dark night, the moon was hidden behind clouds, and Kyle and I were out by the sycamore. I’m not sure what we were doing there. We weren’t kids – we were grown up. It was like now.” He hesitated and put his head in his hands, his face now hidden by the thick strands of sandy hair falling through his fingers.

Bradley drew in his breath sharply.
Denial. Ryan’s denial now making the reality into a dream.

“
It was lightning,” Ryan continued in a hoarse whisper. “No, not exactly lightning. Something was flashing and popping, a light – a force, that’s it – an unknown force seemed to knock the wind out of me. The water was cold as I felt myself falling, falling.” He looked up, his eyes wild and full of fear. “I knew I should swim, but I couldn’t. Something was holding me still. It was like I was paralyzed – the awful suffocating, the water killing me slowly…it took so long.”

He looked straight at Bradley, his eyes searching deep into his friend
’s. “In the dream, I died.”

Bradley rubbed his chin.
“As far as nightmares go, that’s a doozie.” Totally professional now, he went on. “I’ll get my bag out of the car. You won’t deny a friend a chance to show off?”

Returning with his bag, he found Ryan still limp in the chair.
After taking his blood pressure and checking Ryan’s heart, Bradley knew he had to be persuasive. He sat down opposite his old friend and pulled his chair closer.

“
Ryan, I think you’re suffering from some form of amnesia. This dream you’ve just told me about is really the true circumstance of how Kyle died. It’s almost six months ago now. People deny what they cannot bear, like the death of your brother, your twin. One always feels some sort of guilt. A checkup and rest and some sessions with a good doctor is what I recommend.”

“
Kyle is dead?
My God – you mean he’s dead and
I can’t remember it?
” Ryan gave a howl of anguish. The world, his life, this day swirled about him in confusion. He stood up and walked to the mirror, moving stiffly like a person in shock. He stared at his own face searchingly, as if seeing it for the first time. ‘Dead,’ he thought. ‘How can he be dead and I not know? We were twins – we shared everything.
I should have known!
’ Tears slipped down his face. It was dream-like to be told that the shadow, his other self, was dead.

“
I cannot believe it,” he said, sinking down heavily in his chair. “How did it happen?”

Brad chose his words
carefully. “It was almost like your dream; he was helping with the time-lapse camera. Remember the owl? You needed to photograph the owl. Kyle slipped, the lights, the water…he was electrocuted. It was over in a heartbeat. He didn’t suffer.”

Ryan shook wi
th grief and confusion. His dream had been so real that he felt it, the dying – oh yes, it
was
suffering. He had felt it, every agonizing moment of it, in his dream.

“
Kyle dead? I can’t believe that Kyle’s dead,” he repeated, and even as he murmured it he could not really remember Kyle clearly. It was as if his twin had been some sort of appendage of himself… Ryan put his head in his hands and sobbed quietly.

After a time, Brad went over to him.
“There, there,” he said, and awkwardly patted his old friend’s shoulder.

Bradley knew of a good psychiatric hospital in St. Louis, and Ryan had begun his sessions with Dr. Wendt. The doctor came highly recommended, with the bonus of his being an authority on twins.

Ryan found the sessions a catharsis.
When he talked of childhood times, his eyes often brimmed with tears.

“
Doctor, I loved my brother, yet at time I hated him, and sometimes I felt like I was him and he was me. I know this doesn’t make any sense, but I felt we were the same person – and our sameness was a burden to us both.”

“
That’s understandable,” commented Dr. Wendt. “I’ve heard this sort of thing from other twins. Did your parents encourage your sameness?
“Oh, no. My father was furious when Mother tried dressing us alike. The second set of clothes was sent to the church for their annual rummage sale. He encouraged our different interests. He often said that he didn’t want to make the same mistake that his father had made, of forcing us into molds that didn’t fit.”

His hands
held before him, fingers in a tent, Dr. Wendt nodded.

Silence sat between them.
Finally, Dr. Wendt asked, “At this time, Ryan, can you remember the events on the night your brother died?”

Thoughtfully, Ryan rubbed his jaw.
“I remembered it in the dream, but – but –” He stopped. “Now I’m not really sure what is the dream and what really happened. In my dream it was I who died!”

“
I see.”

“
I still do not recall the actual accident,” Ryan admitted.

“
But you’ve come to terms with reality. You accept that your brother drowned that night. I think I’ve explained why you might have blocked it out.”

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and always April lied to
Elizabeth. “Ryan’s in New York. He can’t get away. He sends his love.”

The silent woman would nod, not believing her.
They had all gone away, she was sure of it.

With the deed in hand, Hannah and Tom could have left, but didn
’t.

“
So much trouble,” Hannah muttered. “Such happiness and now so much trouble.”

Tom was silent.
He couldn’t be sure now. He had been certain of what he had seen the night that Kyle died, and equally certain of what he had seen that night when they shot the owl, but he had never told Hannah any of it. Now he began to doubt his own memory.

“
Is he better?” was the eternal hopeful question Hannah would ask each time April returned from the hospital.

Eventually, Dr. Wendt felt he could do no more.
He arranged for Ryan’s release from the hospital.

Rested, his mental state much improved
from the sessions, Ryan went home to Hilltop.

April filled the house with flowers; she spent hours on her hair, her nails.
She needed to look good for her husband, now that she had him back.

She had never spoken to Kack since that night, although she had s
een her walking in the woods or sitting on the porch, the huge cat at her feet. She felt a need to do so now. As she approached the cabin, the animal that was tethered by Kack’s chair growled.

Kack saw her.
“Wait – he is not tame.”

April stopped and was al
armed as she saw the struggle that ensued. The cat snarled, clawing at Kack. A towel was thrown over him, and she took him inside the cabin where the sound of thrashing continued.

Kack reappeared alone, rubbing an ointment into her hands where the cat had
clawed her.

“
He’s better. He’s coming home,” April said simply.

Tears welled in Katherine
’s eyes. “Prayers are sometimes answered,” she said softly.

They sat together on the porch, watching the sunset.
Neither of them spoke. They shared a silent communion, each grateful that he was spared.

Chapter 41

Ryan was thinner and pale.
He walked often by himself in the woods. It refreshed him, renewed him. Eagerly he went to his studio, and the last statue, the owl, was finished. If possible, it was the best of the series.

April was happy.
Secretly, she would sometimes watch him sleep, his face in repose, so dear to her, yet strange. Wherever he had retreated, he had come back to her and was whole.

They discussed the property, and she agreed with his decision.
They had enough money already. The trust fund had doubled with Kyle’s death, and the successful series had clients clamoring for Ryan’s services, so there was no real advantage in selling Hilltop. They would lose any profit to taxes.

They went ahead with the original plans
– donating the house to the ‘indigent blind,’ providing the codicil that Bruce would be a lifetime resident.

They deeded the cabin and its acreage to Katherine.
Elizabeth had recovered miraculously, for she saw in Ryan that he was left to bring her honor. She would bask in his fame.

The selfish, spoiled child in her was revived.
She took pleasure in selecting furniture, drapes, new things for the condo on the river. Strangely, she did not seem sad to leave Hilltop – it was not the house of her memories anymore. Ryan was surprised that the only object she wanted to keep from a houseful of possessions was the portrait of the Judge and herself with their handsome sons. It was hung in due course above the marble mantel in the condo, the only reminder of another life. A companion was hired for her. She embarked on a new life. The balcony at the condo had a marvelous view of the Mississippi River. She had traded one river for another.

Hannah and Tom said their goodbyes, Tom feeling guilty, for in his pocket he held the check for the acreage.
He had sold the land where a factory would soon stand, billowing smoke and ruining the landscape. He deserved this money, he believed; he and Hannah needed the cash. Hannah did not share his satisfaction. She had premonitions that their money would not bring the happiness her husband had always imagined.

With everyt
hing settled, Ryan and April still lingered. The Society would not be ready to occupy the house for several weeks. The stillness and empty rooms grew heavy. They did not want sadness to overwhelm them.

Ryan at times held one of his statues in his hands, tr
ying to grasp happiness, to make the world stand still. What time would he have chosen? Would he have chosen one summer’s day long ago – with Kyle and he and April? Yes, he had loved her even then. Would he have picked the day that he knew he loved April? Yes, he could have picked that day…

He thought of Kyle, and the emptiness, that feeling of being incomplete still stayed with him.
It was like a forgotten tune that danced in his head now and then.

He had no heart for travel now.
His hands ached physically with the need to create. It was still that childish whim – to make time stand still. The porcelain rabbit before him lived just as it had the day he created it.

Now, the wildlife on the island called to him.
He felt the urgency to give those creatures immortality.

April seemed to know without his saying so.
In the night as they clung to each other, she whispered, “Let’s go to the island.”