The Golden Spiral (9 page)

“I don’t want your apologies,” I said, recognizing some of the words from Dante’s brief lessons in Italian. “I want an explanation.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I left to make it easier for you?”

“Easier? Nothing about this has been easy.”

Leo exhaled slowly, and the lines around his eyes and mouth seemed to deepen, aging him as he stood there. “You’re the only one who knows my story,” he said quietly, not looking at me. “You know I’ve lived a long life—a life of sacrifice. I don’t say that for sympathy or to make myself into some kind of martyr. I say it because it’s the truth. My life has been a constant series of good-byes. I can settle down in a place for only so long before I have to say good-bye. When I moved here
and built the Dungeon, I did so with the knowledge that
eventually I would have to leave it all behind. I’ve gotten very good at leaving. Maybe too good.”

He stooped and gathered up a handful of ashes and dust, letting the gray shadows slip through his fingers.

“When the Dungeon burned, I knew it was time to leave. I couldn’t stay.”

“But why not? You knew I needed your help.”

“If I had stayed, there would have been questions. Awkward questions. How would I have explained Dante’s absence? What would I have done about the Dungeon? Rebuilt it? It’s difficult enough to hold down a regular nine-to-five job with my . . . condition. I lost my home. And it’s not like I have family I could stay with.” Leo shook his head. “My life here was over, I could see that clearly.”

“So where did you go?”

A ghost of a smile appeared on his weary face. “Nowhere.”

I drew my eyebrows together in confusion.

The smile solidified. “I packed up; I told everyone I was moving away. I had to appear to leave, but I never left you,
mia donna di luce.
I couldn’t.” He looked out over the quiet houses. A soft breeze ruffled his hair. “I stayed on the bank for as long as I could. When I’d come back, I was careful to stay hidden, isolated. I had time; I could wait.”

“What were you waiting for?” My voice was low, weighed down by the magnitude of Leo’s actions.

“You.” His voice caught on the word. “I knew that eventually the time would come when you’d need my help. And then last night, things changed.”

“Everything’s changed,” I murmured. “And I don’t know how to fix it.”

“That’s why I came back. Whatever is happening, it’s too much for one person to handle alone. I’m here to help.”

“How?”

“However you need me to.” He squared his shoulders, lifting his chin. Then he bowed low, his hand over his heart.
“Faró quello che desidera, donna mia.”

Even though I didn’t understand the words, the message was clear. The air was thick with expectation and I was reminded that long ago, in his other life, Leo had been a soldier and a warrior. He had been a hero.

He remained still, waiting for me to respond.

Time seemed to slow and thicken like it did when I was with Dante. I was acutely aware of the breeze slipping past, of the crunch of dirt beneath my feet. I took a step toward him, touched his shoulder. “Thank you, Leo. I will honor your vow.” I wasn’t sure where the words came from, but they felt like the right ones to say.

He stayed motionless for another moment, then straightened quickly. He moved his fingers from his heart to his lips and then held out his hand to me, palm up.

The gesture felt formal, almost as though it had been rehearsed from a long-ago ritual. I placed my hand atop his. Again, it felt like the right thing to do.

“Grazie,”
he said simply.

“Lel e benvenuto,”
I replied, a little surprised at how easily the Italian came to me.

Leo smiled then, a complex emotion crossing his face. It looked like pride, but with a touch of sadness beneath.

I withdrew my hand and closed my fingers. I wasn’t quite ready to let go of the warmth of his touch. The entire moment had felt strangely familiar, like waking up from a dream you can almost remember, but as soon as you try, it’s gone.

I tried to marshal my thoughts back in line. “So what was all that business with Emery?” I asked. “If you never really left, I guess that means you don’t really work for the college, does it? And why didn’t my parents recognize you?”

“No one expects to see someone they’re not looking for,” Leo said. “A fast dye job, some reading glasses, and a nice suit are usually enough for a quick meeting. I said I worked for the college; they expected to see someone from the college. As a result, they didn’t see
me.
”

“It seems like a lot of work for you to do.”

“After what happened last night, I knew I needed to get in touch with you as soon as possible. I knew you would be at graduation and I thought it would be the best way to reach you. I called Principal Adams this morning, told him the story of the scholarship to Emery, and asked if he could arrange a meeting.”

“So, that’s all it was—just a story? I don’t really have a scholarship?”

“I told the truth. There is a scholarship, and it’s yours if you want it.”

“In my real life—the life I had yesterday—I had earned a place at Emery fair and square, but this morning I found out that they had rejected my application. And then you showed up.” I shook my head. “It’s all so messed up. It’s all happening so fast. I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Leo caught my gaze and held it. “I know things are bad right now. I know it’s hard to see the end. But believe me—we can fix this. We will. You, me, and Dante—we will. Can you believe that? Can you hold on?”

Hold on.
I had made Dante promise me the same thing at the end of my dream. I looked up at Leo. With his dark hair, he looked so much like Dante it made my heart constrict. I felt a tingling in the palm of my right hand and I squeezed my fingers into a tight fist.

I felt like all I had were my memories of what I knew to be true. I would be strong and hold on until I could find a way to fix things, return them to the way they were supposed to be.

“Yes,” I said. “I will.”

Leo nodded solemnly. “Good. Then what would you like me to do first?”

***

Leo and I talked for another hour, trying to figure out a plan of action, but without knowing exactly where Dante was or what exactly was happening to him, it was hard to settle on something that would work. Finally, I asked Leo to go back to the bank and make sure—doubly sure—that Dante wasn’t there. It was all I could think of to do. Leo wasn’t happy about it, but in the end he agreed. I assured him I would be fine while he was gone, but once he had left and I was alone in the broken ruins of the Dungeon, I wondered if I had told him the truth.

Fine
was such a noncommittal response, a word that covered a host of emotions and meanings. It was the best I could hope for under the circumstances.

I turned the ballerina on her music-box stand, the notes filling my hands like fine grains of sand. But once they slipped away and I was left standing in silence, I realized how hard it was to hold onto anything anymore.

Chapter

6

You’re sure you want to go by yourself?” Mom asked me the next afternoon. She had parked the car in the small lot, but left the engine running. She touched my arm as I stole a glance at the building in front of us and read again the sign posted in the immaculate lawn: James E. Hart Memorial Hospital.

The building didn’t look like a hospital. In fact, it looked more like a bed-and-breakfast with its brightly painted shutters and gingerbread trim around the eaves. A flower bed lined the cobblestone walkway, and a white wicker patio set sat empty beneath a tall oak tree. It looked so normal it gave me the creeps.

I took a deep breath and unfastened my seat belt. “I’d like to see her alone. I’ll be okay,” I said, hoping it was true.

“Call me when you’re done?”

I nodded and opened the car door. I waited until Mom had driven away before I turned and walked up the short path to the front entrance.

The woman who opened the door was dressed in pastel hospital scrubs; her shoes were somewhere between sneakers and slippers. She wore a small plastic name tag that read “Dr. Blair.” She smiled brightly at me. “You must be Abby,” she said, stepping aside so I could come inside. “Dr. Hamilton said you would be coming by today.” She closed the door and looked at me expectantly.

“Oh, sorry,” I said, fumbling in my purse for the note from Dr. J. Hamilton’s office granting me permission for a one-hour visit with Valerie. Since when did friends need a doctor’s note to visit? It sounded like the setup to a very bad joke with a worse punch line: When that friend was in a mental institution.

I handed the note to Dr. Blair, feeling awkward and uncomfortable and hating every moment of it.

She briefly glanced at the note before tucking it into her pocket. “Right this way, please.”

I followed her into a side room that had been decorated more like a parlor than an office. Instead of hard plastic chairs along the wall there was a cozy love seat draped with blankets and covered with pillows. Dr. Blair sat down behind a desk and adjusted the lace tablecloth, moving the vase of fresh flowers to the other corner of the desk so we could see each other more easily. She turned on the stereo, and soft music floated into the room from hidden speakers.

I felt the hairs on my arms prickle with unease. Why couldn’t it just have been a hospital? I could have handled a hospital. I didn’t know what to make of this strange hybrid of hospital and hotel.

Dr. Blair clasped her hands on the desk and smiled at me.

I felt strangely like I’d been called to the principal’s office. I sat on the edge of the love seat, tense and ready to bolt out of the door if given the chance.

“Abby, there are a few general rules here at James E. Hart Memorial Hospital.”

I nodded, gripping my purse tighter in my hands. I just wanted to see Valerie. Why couldn’t she take me to my friend, already?

“First, you should know that our guests—we refer to them as ‘guests’ and never as ‘patients’—are here because they need a safe place to rest and recover from whatever traumatic event brought them here. We do all we can to make their stay with us as comfortable as possible. So while you are here visiting, we ask that you speak quietly, move slowly, and that, at all times, you exude an aura of peace.”

I blinked. How, exactly, was I supposed to do that? I didn’t dare ask.

“Second,” Dr. Blair continued, “we ask that you don’t interact with anyone other than the guest you are here to visit. I know it may be tempting to smile or say hello to the guests you see in the common area or the yard, but for your own safety it is best if you avoid any unnecessary contact.”

I swallowed. What kind of place was this? How could Valerie’s parents stand to keep her here?

“And lastly, we forbid any kind of electronic devices on the premises.” She held out her hand. It took me a moment to realize what she wanted.

“Oh, of course,” I said, opening my purse and handing over my cell phone.

“And since you will be visiting with Valerie today, I’m afraid I will also have to ask for your watch.”

I glanced at the gold watch on my wrist. I’d gotten the watch for my last birthday, and I’d worn it today specifically because I’d hoped it would remind Valerie of her life before all this happened.

“We have learned that with Valerie it is best not to take any kind of timekeeping device into her room. No watches, no clocks. You understand.”

Actually, I might be the only one who did understand. I obediently unclasped my watch and handed it over as well.

Dr. Blair swiftly locked my watch and my phone into the drawer and then brushed her hands together briskly. I wondered if her smile was permanently fixed on her face.

“Now, then, shall we go visit your friend?”

I nodded and followed her out of the room, trying my best to exude an aura of peace.

Valerie’s room was on the second floor and, thankfully, we didn’t pass any other staff or guests on our short journey down the hall and up the stairs. I didn’t want to accidentally make eye contact with anyone I wasn’t supposed to.

“Now, then, Abby, you may visit for one hour. If you wish to leave early, simply say so and I’ll escort you out.”

“But Dr. Hamilton said I’d be able to see Valerie alone,” I said.

“Oh, yes, that’s true. But we watch and record everything that goes on with our guests.” Dr. Blair pointed up at the black dome attached to the ceiling. “It’s just one more way we make them feel safe and secure here at James E. Hart Memorial Hospital. Now, are you ready for your visit?”

Dr. Blair didn’t wait for me to answer, instead reaching past me to open the door to Valerie’s room. I stepped inside, feeling cautious and shy. For one crazy moment, I felt like I was meeting a blind date.

Then I heard the door close—and lock—behind me. My mouth was dry and I felt my hands tingle with fearful anticipation.

“Valerie?” I whispered.

She sat in one of the two chairs that had been arranged next to the window, the pale drapes parted to let in the morning sunlight. I tried not to notice the diamond pattern of reinforced glass on the window or the fact that the chairs were made of molded plastic so there were no sharp edges or any way to take them apart. A faded bedspread covered the twin bed pushed into the corner. Two dolls lay propped up on the pillows.