“Every week I had the misfortune of being near her, I had to listen to it. And with every retelling the violence and horror increased. By the end, I think she was saying that Alex McDowell had used a hammer to crush her legs.”
“Yes, we found that too,” the nurse said. “But did you know that we have a resident therapist? Your grandmother loved to go to him, and I shouldn’t tell you this, but when her story changed each week, he did some investigating into old newspaper accounts of the incident. For one thing, the rape didn’t happen when she said it did. It was at night, not during the day, and she was returning from a party where she’d been drinking. Did you know that?”
“No,” Mike said quietly. “I didn’t.” He was disgusted with himself that he’d never thought to look at old records. But then, his grandmother’s so-called rape was something he’d never wanted to hear another word about.
“The psychiatrist thought it was possible that Pru was more than a little drunk when it happened, and that there was a possibility that she welcomed the young man. Later, when the man she said had attacked her wouldn’t marry her, and even denied that he’d so much as touched her … Well, the doctor thought that perhaps Pru had come to embellish the event so dramatically that maybe Mr. McDowell actually was innocent.”
Mike knew the nurse’s words sounded true and he wanted to hear more, but now was not the time. “But that night when she went hysterical, did she say anything different?”
“Yes, she did. On that night, nearly all the residents were in the living room watching TV, the same as always, when Pru started screaming. We never did succeed in teaching your grandmother that there were times when other people’s needs were just as important as hers.”
Mike snorted. “A lesson no one could teach her. What was my grandmother shouting?”
“That she’d seen the paintings they were showing on TV.”
He knew that he and Luke had just moved those paintings from where they’d been stored at Merlin’s Farm. “What was the show?”
“Lost Treasures. Do you watch it?”
Mike’s life didn’t leave much time for TV, but it seemed pompous to say that. “I’m afraid I don’t,” he said. “What’s it about?”
“Valuable things that have disappeared. Our residents love it, and we watch it every Thursday night. In that episode, they showed some old paintings of tropical plants in Florida, and said they were very, very valuable. It’s hard to remember the details because five minutes after they came on the screen, Pru jumped up and started screeching at the top of her lungs.”
“What exactly, as best as you can remember, did Grans say?”
“Something about a boy … Bruce … Langley?”
“Brewster Lang,” Mike said.
“Yes! That’s it. I’m sorry to say this, but we’d had a lot of trouble with your grandmother snooping through people’s belongings. And she loved to spy on others. We had to be careful to lock every door.”
“I know that well,” Mike said softly.
“Yes, I imagine you would.” The nurse’s voice was sympathetic. “Anyway, Pru said that just before the rape she’d seen the paintings they were showing on TV in this boy’s house. She’d been looking in the windows—spying, but she didn’t say that—and saw him with the artwork spread all around. I think she said he saw her watching him. Is that possible?”
Mike imagined the evening. His grandmother had been an angry young woman with too much booze inside her and she was looking through Lang’s windows. Spying was something that he knew she loved to do, and as a child he’d learned to keep his curtains closed and the doors bolted.
That night, Lang had looked up, seen her watching him, and had probably followed her outside. Maybe Pru was trying to run away on her bicycle and maybe Lang threw
stones at the spokes. Or maybe she was so drunk she crashed. She’d always liked gin. As for Lang, he may have thought Pru had come to see him, as she often did. And it was possible that since it was night, he thought she had at last realized he was closer to being a man and not the boy she’d always thought he was.
When her bike went down, Pru may have hit her head. That, mixed with the drink, would have made her fuzzy about reality. She saw a kilt such as Alex McDowell, the man she believed she loved, wore, and one thing led to another. She probably welcomed the man with enthusiasm.
No wonder Lang celebrated that day every year, Mike thought, and he wondered how Lang felt when, later, Pru had demanded that Alex marry her.
“Mr. Newland?” the nurse asked, “are you there?”
“Yes. What happened after my grandmother went hysterical?”
“We had to give her a sedative to get her to bed. That would have been the end of it if it hadn’t been for Hazel.”
“My guess is that she was very interested in what my grandmother had said.”
“Extremely. She had the late shift and everyone was talking about it. Hazel asked everyone what had caused Pru to go crazy. No detail was too small for her. She said a most curious thing, something that I’ve never forgotten.”
“And what was that?”
“She said that old people knew many secrets, and if they were old enough, they’d forget what was supposed to be kept secret.”