Ian remembered the pain he'd felt at the simple touch and knew Johann was telling the truth. He looked away, gave Johann what little privacy he could in the intimate confines of the carriage. He stared out the window, saw the last white house disappear from view as the coach hurtled into the shadowy, forbidding woods. The gravelly road twisted through groves of maple and pine, trees so thick in places that a man could lose himself in the darkness. They were going deep into the Maine woods now, into a place uncharted and wild, where night fell early and the sweet smells of moss and mud and mystery were common. A place hidden from "nice" society.
The hospital at Pollusk was like all state-run lunatic asylums. Cold, distant, ignored. The seat of fear in a sleepy community, something wanted by all Maine residents, but not in their hometowns, not near their precious children. He knew without asking that stories surrounded this place, ghost tales told and retold at family gatherings, threats offered by exhausted parents to keep rambunctious children quelled. The stories would be about ax murderers and child killers, and they would have some limited basis in fact?enough to keep the good townspeople frightened. Enough to keep this place isolated and forgotten.
He'd seen it all before. In the early years, when he'd first returned to Lethe House, Ian had occasionally gone into town. Everywhere he went, he heard the whispers, felt the stares. Old ladies made the sign of the cross as
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he walked past them. One had even fallen into a dead faint when he looked at her.
Yes, he knew what it felt like to be feared and ignored. And these good Mainers were probably no different from the ones at home. They hated what they feared, and they feared anyone different.
Unfortunately, this asylum, like all of them, wasn't filled with murderers. Instead, it warehoused society's lost souls. People suffering from melancholia, dementia, mania, monomania, and idiocy. Sad, lonely people like his mother, more likely to hurt themselves than any hapless passerby.
But of course, the good people of Pollusk would never believe that.
The carriage lurched to a stop.
Neither man moved. Finally Johann spoke. "I hate this godforsaken place." He shivered, reached for his cloak. "I was here, you know. When I first fell in love with Marie, I told my father that I wanted to marry her. The great Frederick Strassborg beat me within an inch of my life and informed me that no son of his would marry a whore." He gave a soft, bitter laugh. "But I never was much good at listening. Marie and I ran off to be wed, and my father found us. He dragged me away from the church and brought me here. The law's a bit slack on family commitments, as you know. I was institutionalized for three years?it took that long to extract an apology from me and a promise never to see Marie again."
Ian didn't want to be drawn into another personal conversation with Johann, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from asking the question. "What happened then?"
He grinned. "I was never too good at keeping promises, either."
The carriage door handle clicked hard, and the vel-veted door swung open. The elderly driver stood in the opening. Behind him, the hospital sat amidst the trees
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like a huge granite bird of prey, silent and watchful. "We're here, Doctor."
For a split second, Ian's fear was so great, he couldn't move, could barely breathe.
"You need the answers, Ian," Johann said quietly.
Ian knew he was right, but it didn't end the fear. He reached for his cloak and slipped it on, suddenly cold. "Don't let anyone touch me, Johann."
Johann gave him a sad, knowing smile. "Isn't that what this little sojourn is about, Herr Doctor?"
Ian pretended not to understand. Without answering, he got out of the carriage and began the long walk to the asylum.
It lay sprawled before him, waiting. A great wooden door, protected by Gothic-scrolled granite walls and an elegant green hedge, scrupulously trimmed, flanked the walkway and hemmed the giant building in. Trees stood guard, swaying quietly in the nightfall's breeze, whispering among themselves of the things they'd seen in this place, the screams they'd heard.
Johann came up beside him. "Ready?"
Ian hadn't realized that he'd stopped walking. He stood on the threshold, staring at the closed door. Hell no, he wasn't ready, not to enter this place again.
He was a fool to have come here, to have put himself in the lion's path for a woman who couldn't improve.
Ian had a crazy urge to run?back to the carriage, back to the isolated house in the woods where memories lurked but didn't intrude. Even crazier, he wanted to confide in Johann, spill out the whole sordid story of what had once happened in this place, of Ian's singular betrayal.
Time paused, drew a quiet breath.
The moment of weakness passed. "I'm fine." Ian started to reach for the door, then paused and looked suddenly at Johann. "Can you go in?"
Johann smiled. "A most un-Ian-like question." His smile faded. "Yes, I can."
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Ian nodded and knocked on the door.