And the Ivy and Other Stories Read online

And the Ivy and Other Stories

  By Amy Neal

  Copyright 2013 Amy Neal

  Re-released 2017 by Amy Neal

  Notes for the 2017 Edition: Three small parts of "Flicker" and one of "And the Ivy," which were intended to be crossed out in the original e-book but appeared as normal text on some e-readers, have been changed to appear in square brackets, like this: [example text]. Aside from these four changes, the stories are unedited from how they appeared in 2013.

  Thank you for downloading this free e-book. You may reproduce, copy, or distribute it for non-commercial reasons, as long as you keep the book in its complete, original form.

  Table of contents

  The Room Alone

  A Gentle Breeze

  Flicker

  And the Ivy

  About the author

  Connect with Amy

  The Room Alone

  Hangman, Hangman, let me be;

  Say the noose is not for me.

  "Mommy?" A little voice woke Mother out of her reverie. "Mommy?"

  "Yes, dear." Her voice was shaking. Stop that!

  She looked up desperately at Hangman, but his eyes were dead and cold.

  "Yes, dear." She managed a small smile. That's better. Still a little shaky though. "Don't worry, sweetie. It'll only hurt for a second, I promise."

  "Where's Daddy? I want Daddy."

  "He's got to work, sweetie." He's right behind you, if only you could see him. Please, Hangman. Not this. Please?

  "But I don't like getting shots."

  "It's okay, sweetie, I know what I'm doing." Do I ever. Please?

  Numb, she prepared the first needle.

  "Who's first?"

  "I will. He's too chicken." Angel hadn't spoken all day.

  "Am not!"

  "Am too!"

  "Are too." He said it with extra emphasis.

  Angel made a face at her brother.

  "I'm still going first."

  Mother held her daughter's arm and found the vein she needed.

  "Will you tell me about your day at school, honey?"

  "Okay. Miss Holland told us a really funny story today about a panda in a zoo. 'Cause the panda wanted ..."

  She was in full medical mode now. Nothing could stop her. She reached for the needle.

  "... Mommy?"

  "Don't worry, honey, it won't hurt too much. Look, your sister will show you."

  "Mommy?"

  "It's okay, honey, let me do my job."

  "Mommy?"

  "Yes! What is it?" What is it, Lamb?

  "Why are you crying, Mommy?"

  Mother put the needle down and felt her cheek. It was damp. She wiped off her hand and grabbed the needle purposefully.

  "Nothing, sweetie. I just wish your father could be here. Now let me do my job." I love you, my darlings.

  From behind the children, Hangman laughed.

  I hate you, she told him. I hate you.

  Mother left the room alone.

  Hangman, Hangman, not today;

  Tell me there's another way.

  "Hello, love!"

  A ridiculous giggle came bubbling up from Mother's insides. She shut the door on it and went to greet her husband.

  "Hello." She gave him her best smile.

  He dropped his coat on his briefcase and made her smile wider.

  Letting her go, he looked up the stairs. "Where are those infernal children?"

  "They have swimming lessons today, honey. You know that."

  "Thank God. I don't think I could stand them right now. I've seen nothing but kids and needles all day."

  "Don't say that, sweetie."

  He grabbed her waist and drew her towards the closed door.

  "But as long as they aren't here ..."

  "Mmm ..." She drew away quickly, her voice suddenly very even. "I made a roast, and there's baked potatoes and beans from the garden. Could you fix the wall hanging in the living room? It's been driving me quite mad all day. Oh, and the kids have to be picked up before we eat."

  The disappointment on his face quickly gave way to tolerant amusement.

  "Yes, dear." He headed downstairs to his workshop. "Let me just get a hammer."

  Oh, and Hangman? Don't forget to take out the trash. The kitchen reeks of unwanted leftovers.

  Riiiing.

  Mother doubled over. What is that noise? Somebody stop it!

  Riiiing.

  Why won't it stop?

  Riiii-

  There was a pause. Mother stood up, wiped her hands on her skirt, and checked on dinner.

  "Honey?"

  She could feel each thud of his torturously slow ascent.

  "Honey? Did you know that the kids didn't get to swimming today?"

  "What?" Of course they didn't, Hangman. Everything happened just as you planned.

  "Yeah, the instructor just called, wondering if we'd forgotten to bring them."

  "But it's right next door from school; they walk there themselves now. They're old enough."

  "Well they didn't go."

  "Well they certainly didn't come here."

  "Well, what now?"

  Mother looked around for something to say and found it in the window. Security.

  "Call the police?"

  "There must be someone else we can call first."

  "Parents. Call the other parents."

  Mother opened their address book.

  "The Thompsons?" Her finger slid over the names. "Should I call the Thompsons?"

  "Call everyone."

  Yes, Hangman. Let's cover your tracks. Together. As a family.

  Another of those silly giggles erupted from her belly and she threw herself into a fit of coughing.

  "Are you alright, sweetie? Here, let me call."

  Sure, Hangman. You be the good, worried parent. You call. I will make dinner for our family of four and act like I don't know what you've done to my babies.

  She put the potatoes and the roast in the oven to keep them warm and retreated to her bedroom. The closed door was a comfort, but Hangman was with her always. She couldn't look in his eyes anymore. All she saw was the needle.

  Why, Hangman? Why them? Why us?

  She picked up Lamb's blankie as though she had never seen it before.

  Why me?

  She dried her eyes with the backs of her hands and stole out of the room, the now slightly damp rag in her hand.

  Time to hide the evidence, Hangman. Into the bag it goes.

  "What are you doing in the hallway, honey?"

  She stood very still, staring at the front door.

  "Honey, I called everyone. I don't think they're coming home."

  He turned her away from the door and they walked past the bedroom into the kitchen.

  "I've called the cops. Let's try to eat something before they get here, okay?"

  Yes, dear. Hangman always knows what's best.

  Hangman, Hangman, let me go;

  I won't tell them what I know.

  "I'm going to have to take that blanket, ma'am. It's evidence." The officer spoke softly, but Mother continued to bawl into the blanket.

  After a moment, she took a deep breath, stopped crying, and looked up at the police officer.

  "Here. Take it. Take my husband too, the bastard."

  "Now, ma'am, we have no definite proof yet, so let's not jump to conclusions."

  "He killed my babies!" Hangman killed my babies!

  The officer sighed and sealed the plastic bag.

  "We'll be doing what we can, ma'am. Your husband will be going with us. We'll have to come back to finish searching the house, though. Is there a place you can stay?"

  Mother mumbled something about a sister up
town, and the officer left her alone.

  You always did hate my babies.

  Another giggle started up from deep within her and she hid her face in her hands until she was quite sure she was alone. Then she threw her head back and laughed as loudly as she dared. Soon, though, the laughing became too loud. It frightened her. She began to giggle nervously, staring at the closed door in front of her.

  Hangman, you frighten me. Please go. Please. After all I've done, what do you need now?

  He reached towards her, arms offering.

  There was something in his hands, but she dared not look.

  Hangman, Hangman, go away;

  Tell me you aren't here to stay.

  To sway.

  The swaying motion soothed Mother as she stood. She was dancing, now. Now he was twirling her, now dipping, now lifting high, higher-too high. So high she had to take the offering from his hands so that she wouldn't fall.

  Her feet were off the ground, but the swaying didn't end. He muffled her words with his own and wrapped the gift around her. Slowly, she swayed into a deep rest.

  My babies ...

  Hangman left the room alone.

  A Gentle Breeze

  Alice had always meant well. Sometimes she hadn't done the right thing, but she had always acted with the very best of intentions. That is what she was telling herself over and over. Ever since it had begun, she had wracked her brain, looking for an explanation. What had gone wrong? What had she done to deserve this? Had he always been there? Surely not.

  Alice lay on the bed and stared at the bare, white ceiling. Thinking for too long tired her out. It hadn't always been this way. Or had it? It was hard to tell. Her thoughts were like a river of mud, churning away gently. As soon as she was close to understanding something, she found herself sinking and the thought slowly drifting away from her. It was the gentleness that disturbed her.

  Gentleness? I would certainly like a gentle hand on mine. But what was I thinking just now? No matter. Hands.

  The last hands she had seen had offered her tea, and that had pleased her. She sat up hopefully.

  Please bring me tea. I could almost kiss you. Oh, beautiful hands.

  And there they were. With a hot piping cup of ...

  Stew.

  How she hated stew. There was something not quite right about stew. Food should be either solid or liquid. Why disguise the chewy meat in a thick sauce and surround it by stringy beans and almost raw carrots? Food should be either liquid or solid. And what was the purpose of the sauce? Was she really supposed to think it was soup? What were these stupid nurses thinking? Or did they have cooks somewhere? She really ought to complain sometime.

  The hands were coming closer, now. Long, slender fingers gripped tightly around the civilized stick pointing towards her. Long fingers ending in a blur of white-always white.

  Why is it always white? she thought, as feeble, wrinkled hands pushed the younger hands away.

  "Now, Alice, it's only soup. Do have some soup."

  Soup! That's no soup. You can't fool me! She swayed as strongly as she could, but only disoriented herself further.

  The hands returned, whiter with tension, the stick again pointing at Alice.

  That last attempt at resistance had been too much for poor Alice and she sat back against the pillow. The offending spoon slowly made it into her mouth and Alice began to chew resignedly.

  The nurse left, most of the soup on the floor. Alice was sleeping peacefully.

  "I'll be right back to clean up this mess. You just sleep, dear."

  ***

  "Laura, have you seen Alice lately? She's been acting rather strangely."

  "I was just in there--she seemed fine. Even ate some soup. It's not like she talks anyway." Why does she never talk?

  "Maybe you should go and see her again. Not on rounds, though, just visit her when she isn't expecting it. Or when whatever's in her head isn't expecting it."

  "What do you mean, whatever's in her head? She's just getting old--give her a break."

  The old doctor laughed strangely and turned back to the chart he was examining.

  "Of course." He didn't sound like he meant it. Laura tried not to think about what he did mean, and made her way to the cleaning closet.

  Something about him left Laura disconcerted. Where had she seen him before? He must have been from another unit or something. She was sure she hadn't seen him before. But how had he known her name? He hadn't even glanced at her badge.

  Every day was the same here. Visit one, visit another. Serve them food, give them pills, and tuck them in. Every day the same.

  But I've never seen him before, she thought as she closed the closet door.

  Surely that was just a coincidence. Their schedules didn't usually allow it. Yes, that was all. She was sure now.

  Leaning on the mop for support, she peeked into Alice's room and fainted.

  ***

  When she came to, Alice was tucked perfectly in bed, sleeping like an angel--just as she'd left her earlier. Laura shook herself and stood up silently.

  Alice had been ... no, surely she was overtired. She was only seeing things. An old woman doesn't get up and flail around. And she certainly doesn't look so crazed. And she had obviously been sleeping the whole time.

  It's a good thing no one found me on the ground, Laura thought. They'd have me going for psych checks.

  Laura entered the room shakily and mopped up the soup, keeping her eyes on Alice as she did so. Was Alice mumbling in her sleep?

  No. She was just hearing things.

  What isn't hers?

  No. She was just hearing things. Alice never spoke, anyway.

  While Laura mopped, Alice stayed almost completely still. She was lying on her back, breathing loudly as most elderly people tend to do in their sleep. Everything seemed normal. Still, though, something just didn't feel right to Laura. She backed out of the room, mopping as she went, and only turned when she reached the hallway.

  Today might be a good day to take an early lunch, she told herself.

  ***

  Alice had always meant well. Sometimes she hadn't done the right thing, but she had always acted with the very best of intentions. That is what she was telling herself over and over. Ever since it had begun, she had wracked her brain, looking for an explanation. What had gone wrong? What had she done to deserve this? Had he always been there? Surely not.

  Alice lay on the bed and stared at the bare, white ceiling. Thinking for too long tired her out. It hadn't always been this way. Or had it? It was hard to tell. Her thoughts were like a river of mud, churning away gently. As soon as she was close to understanding something, she found herself sinking and the thought slowly drifting away from her. It was the gentleness that disturbed her.

  Gentleness? I would certainly like a gentle hand on mine. But what was I thinking just now? No matter. Hands.

  The last hands she had seen had offered her stew. How she hated stew.

  Please bring me tea. I could almost kiss you. Oh, evil hands.

  But what was the thought? She always lost them.

  The thought appeared at her window as it did every morning. Today he was knocking violently. Dangerously.

  No! You can't come in! No! It's not mine yet. Not yet. Please?

  His snow-white face--or was it a mask?--had been sad yesterday. Today it was no darker, but his mouth was twisted into a wicked grin.

  Please. It's not mine yet.

  The scene at the window quite frightened her, so she turned back to the ceiling. Why is it always white?

  No matter where she looked, though, the banging at the window would not leave her be--and her head was throbbing so.

  Oh, please bring me some tea. And perhaps something for this headache. Or maybe you could stop that terrible racket! Wouldn't that be nice.

  "Good morning, Alice!"

  No, this is a rather bad morning, thank you, nurse.

  "It's a beautiful day today. I think you oug
ht to have some fresh air." The nurse put a steaming cup of something by Alice's bed and moved towards the window. "I brought you more soup-it's chicken noodle today!"

  My, but you're cheery. And don't open that window!

  "Here, let me just open the window for you, let a little fresh air in."

  "NO!"

  The nurse stopped in her tracks. Success!

  "Now, Alice, don't worry," she said, turning back towards the bed. "It'll just be a gentle breeze."

  The pounding stopped and Alice peeked around the nurse. The mouth was mocking her, now.

  "No." Please, no.

  Why did the nurse look so shocked? And couldn't she see that she shouldn't let in the breeze?

  "Please, dear, don't open the window," Alice wanted to say. As usual, though, nothing came out. Her lips barely even parted. Please.

  "I'll come by in a few minutes and you let me know how you feel."

  What a relief! But now she was turning back towards the window--she was opening it, the fool. No, please!

  "There. I'll be back soon."

  I won't.

  ***

  I can't believe she spoke, Laura thought to herself as she left Alice's room. I must be really getting through to her. And the breeze will do her good.

  Laura walked down the hall in search of the old doctor from the day before, but nobody could tell her who he was.

  There must be some mistake, she thought. I must be describing him wrong. That must be it. But something told her there was more to the mystery. She sighed and finished her rounds. One of the residents in her charge wouldn't take his pills, and yet another caused a fuss about her soup. It was half an hour before she made it back to Alice's room.

  "Alice? I'm back." Laura knocked and entered the room, inspecting her scrub top for soup stains. "How is the breeze? I see you're enjoying it."

  Alice was facing the window, her silver hair stirring gently in the breeze.

  "Let me fix those covers for you; you'll catch cold facing the window like that even on a day like--"

  The nurse stopped suddenly at the other side of the bed. "Alice, where did you get that strange mask? And why are you--"

  Alice's body was unmistakably stiff.

  I'll never get used to this, Laura thought, and she turned and closed the window.