Catalina leads us into the back room. I look at the familiar recliner as if it’s somehow my enemy now instead of the way to get the answers I seek. I thought I was ready to do this, but now I’m not so sure. If you face the fact that someone is dead, it means they’re truly gone.
“It’s okay. You can do this. Just relax.” Nathan squeezes my shoulder when he notices my hesitation.
“One of the good things about hypnosis is it’s a relaxation technique,” Catalina adds to help calm my jitters. “If you just listen to my voice and focus on your breathing, all your fears and worries will disappear while you’re under.”
“Can you put a little something on the end of the bringing-me-out-of-it script to help me feel surer or at peace or make better choices or something?” I ask. “I don’t think I’m doing the best I can with any of those.”
“I can suggest it, but it’s up to you to follow it,” she says. “The choices you make, even if they seem wrong, are the best for you. Life itself is a learning experience. Every choice we make, from what color shirt we wear to who we pick as our parents before birth, all influence what we learn in life. Some have bigger consequences than others, but we live so we can learn.”
I take the blanket Catalina offers once I sit in the recliner and pull it up over my legs and skirt. If it had been my choice, I would have worn pants to school. But I’ve never questioned Dad’s interference on everything in my life from what I wear to which boy I date. Maybe I should. Maybe I should question everything in my life. If I question my choices, would I learn more?
“Why am I so afraid?” I ask.
“Facing the truth of our actions and the resulting consequences is never easy.” Catalina pops a cassette tape into the recorder and hovers her pen over the pad of paper. “You’re doing the right thing, Meredith, by coming here and exploring your past life. By understanding why you’re stuck in these soul-patterns, you can let go, heal the pain of the past, and move on. Are you ready?”
I don’t feel ready, but I nod anyway. “Whenever you are.”
I listen to Catalina’s practiced, soothing voice and focus on my breathing. I breathe in relaxation and breathe out tension. I feel the calming warmth spread through my body as it makes each section from head to toe heavy during the deepening, and, finally, I’m in the private elevator going down, down, down to the circular library of memories. I’ve stayed away from the “bad memory” books until now. I hesitate for just a moment before I reach for the nearest one. It’s time. I need to know what I’ve felt so afraid to face.
Haunting
August 24, 1888
Mercy Stone
“Today is my birthday.” I watch my reflection in the mirror as my maid Abigail fastens the sapphires I am to wear tonight at the End of Season Ball about my neck.
“Happy birthday, miss.” She bobs a low curtsy. “The sapphires are an excellent choice. They match your eyes. I dare say Mr. Piper won’t be able to take his eyes from you tonight.”
“That is the goal.” I wish to say more, but I am unsure how to broach the subject. Abigail and I rarely gossip. She is quite the help when I need to skulk about the hotel undetected, yet I cannot just up and ask leading questions without appearing suspicious or—worse—jealous. “Abigail?” I ask. “You are friendly with the other maids, are you not?”
“Some, miss,” she replies. “Others? Well, others are too much the gossipmongers for even me to find pleasant. They jump on any little shred of scandal and tear it apart.”
“Like Madeline Pruitt.” I remember Nate’s contempt for the snubbed-nosed little chambermaid who would rather have him all to herself rather than let me turn his head.
“Rightly so, miss. If I may say so, she is quite a horrid little thing.”
“So they have told me.” I finger the sapphires around my neck, finding comfort in their cool smoothness. “Have the other servants spoken at all of Nate? Has anyone had any word from him? It seems strange and so very unlike him to shirk his duties to the hotel and to, well, me. You are my eyes below stairs, Abigail. Please, if you know anything—anything at all—tell me.”
“No one has heard anything about Nate, miss.” Abigail checks and double-checks that my hair is styled to perfection. “I wish I had some news to give you. Perhaps he went back to the rails. I’ve heard that’s what the rest of the kitchen staff speculate.”
“But it is so unlike him to not send word to anyone. He should know I—they—would worry.”
“Perhaps he has just been overwhelmed and unable to send a cable.”
“I hope so,” I sigh. “I dearly hope so.”
“Mercy, dear.” Papa knocks on my door. “It is time.”
I turn to Abigail and engulf her in a swift embrace. “You have always been so loyal. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, miss.”
“If you hear word of Nate—anything at all—please tell me,” I request. “Interrupt a dance if you must, but I need to know.”
“Of course, miss.”
I smooth my hands down my skirt to make sure everything is in order before moving across the room to open my door. I smile at Papa as if there is nothing on my mind save an evening of dancing and flirting with James Piper. How can I really tell him I am heartsick over the fact it has been three days without word from Nate? Three days! Three days ago, he pushed that boat out onto the lake, and we have not heard word since. My mind is in such a whirl that even my dreams are muddled. I dreamed of a strange girl with peculiar clothes. I woke the next morning with more questions than answers.
“Happy birthday, darling.” Papa kisses my cheek before tucking my arm close. He leads the way to the staircase and grand ballroom below and stops right before we enter. I can see the dancers and musicians below, enjoying the night without a care in the world. I search for Nate in the crowd of kitchen staff weaving through the party guests, offering champagne and hors d’oeuvres, but I might as well be searching for a ghost. He is not here. I press my fist against my aching heart.
“Is there anything the matter, darling?” Papa asks.
“No, Papa,” I answer. “I am overwhelmed, that is all. It is a beautiful ball. You have truly outdone yourself.”
He sweeps an arm to show off the crowd below. “It is all for you, my dear. All for you.”
Now, more than ever, I wish it was not for me. I wish I lived a simple life with a simple boy and did not have to be tied to society’s rules. But it feels as if someone tied a rock around my neck that weighs me down. I cannot escape it, no matter how hard I try.
Papa propels me toward the grand staircase to make our even grander entrance. As if on cue, the musicians stop playing when Papa and I appear on the top step. The gathered guests turn and clap as we descend to the tune of “Happy Birthday.” It seems silly to make such a fuss over something as simple as turning twenty-one, but I know it means I am of age and prime for marriage. If James was not such an attractive candidate for my hand, I feel Papa would try to auction me off to the highest bidder. I stumble, feeling faint, as we finish our descent. James steps from the crowd and bows. If he notices my unsteady appearance, he does not comment on it.