Haunting at Remington House. Laura V. Keegan
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in his office, going over a contract. Nate called 911.
Tom cradled Elise, holding her tightly. Nate sat by his side as Tom quietly explained to him, “I won’t leave her—not after we’ve found each other again.”
“Tom! Oh, God, no. What happened?” Nate whispered, trying to take Elise from Tom’s tightly clenched arms. “Tom, Elise is gone, man. You have to let go.” When the EMT’s came into the room, Tom screamed at them, “Elise is fine! Leave us alone!” He continued ranting, struggling to hold on to her lifeless body. The EMT’s tried to pry him away from her. “Don’t take her from me! Get out! All of you. Get the hell away from us! Let me go, you sons of bitches!”
Tom’s doctor arrived minutes after the ambulance. Nate held Tom down while Dr. Robeson gave him a shot of a sedative to knock him out. Crying out for Elise, Tom slumped backward onto the bed. The coroner examined Elise’s body, pronounced her dead, and she was taken to the morgue. The following week, the autopsy would determine that Elise Gardner had died of an overdose of numerous narcotics ingested in a mixture of brandy and water. No suicide note was found.
Tom had only vague memories of the weeks that followed. Elise had been buried, her funeral attended only by Tom and his family. Her mother could not be located, though his sister, Cassie, had tried. Tom had vague recollections of Cassie and Nate trying to console him as he literally fell apart. The following months were the easiest for Tom. He resided in a drug-induced fantasy. For several blissful months, he shared all his time with Elise. During these months, she never left his side—the outside world no longer existed. Content, he made plans with his wife. Together, they began to build their future.
Cassie, having a family of her own to take care of, left Tom in the care of Dr. Robeson and returned to New York City. Unfortunately, Robeson’s idea of treatment was giving Tom all the drugs he wanted. After pleas from Nate, Cassie finally came back to Jamestown to see for herself why Nate was so concerned. She was devastated, realizing her brother was slipping further and further away from reality, living in a fantasy world shared with his dead wife. Cassie took charge.
For the next six months, the renowned psychiatrist, Dr. Kyle Gerard, treated Tom at Jamestown Psychiatric Hospital. Dr. Gerard slowly reduced the amount of drugs Tom had been dependent on until he was able to exist with only the aid of sleeping pills—to get him through the long nights. The sleeping pills afforded Tom hours of dreamless sleep. Without the pills, his nights were unbearable. Elise came to him—no longer as his lover—but to taunt and torment him. Tom tried unsuccessfully to sleep without the pills, finally gave up. After all, there were plenty of other doctors willing to give him what he needed when Dr. Gerard refused to write him any more prescriptions.
Chapter 10
Elise cried, the sound not much louder than a tiny mew, as if from a kitten crying for its lost mama. The attic room was dark, cold, empty. She shivered, her teeth chattered. Elise thought she’d never be warm again.
This house was not like the Jamestown house—there seemed to be nowhere Elise felt safe or warm. As she wiped her tears away with her nearly transparent fist, she grew angry. She vowed she would not be the one to suffer, not anymore. She went downstairs in search of Tom.
Elise was still surprised by the floating quality of her existence, moving without conscious motion, merely a gentle transference of her spirit from one realm to another. Feeling quite ethereal, she drifted into the living room.
Chapter 11
Tom jumped to his feet. Every hair on the back of his neck stood up as an icy gust of air wafted across his body. Damn drafty house! He went back to the kitchen, got another beer and returned to the living room. Listening to the storm still raging outside, he paced the floor and remembered the months following his release from Jamestown Psychiatric Hospital.
***
By August, Dr. Gerard felt Tom was well on his way to recovery and acceptance of Elise‘s death. After six months of isolation in the private clinic at JPH, Tom was released to the isolation of his Jamestown home. I played the game very well, Tom thought. No one suspected the truth. Not for a moment did anyone believe that I was responsible for Elise’s death. No one that is, except me. I will always know the truth.
For over a year, Tom hadn’t ventured out of his house. He saw no one except Nate, and on occasion Cassie, who came when she could. She did her best to encourage him and to help him out of his dark, depressed moods.
Cassie’s nature was one of joy and optimism. She simply couldn’t understand Tom’s inability to get over Elise’s death or his refusal to leave Jamestown. “Tom,” she pleaded, “you have to stop grieving. You need to get out of this dreary house. Come with me to New York City for a while. I’d love to introduce you to some of my friends there. And there are so many things we could do. I know you’d start to heal if you’d get away from here. Won’t you at least try? If not for yourself—for me?” With every visit came the same discussion. She begged him to leave—he refused.
It was Nate who finally convinced Tom that change had to come. Tom was in Elise’s sitting room staring absently out the window as the sun set, the sky glowing crimson and orange.
Tom seemed not to notice when Nate came in the room. “Tom, can I have a word with you?” Nate asked. Tom gave a slight nod to acknowledge Nate’s presence. “I’ve worked for you for over ten years—good years—most of them. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking the last few weeks. I’ve come to a decision. It’s time for me to find another job.”
“What?” Tom asked. “What did you say?” Nate finally had his attention.
“I’ll find a replacement before I go. I know a few people who you might want to interview. I’d be glad to call them for you, if you like.”
“Nate, what’s the problem,” Tom asked. “Is it your brother again? Take off and do whatever you have to do. Take all the time you need. You don’t have to quit, for God’s sake.”
“No, Harold’s not the problem—it’s . . .”
Tom interrupted, “I know you have many responsibilities, you carry a heavy load. Tell me what I can do to help. Are you having financial problems? How much do you need?”
“This has nothing to do with money—or my brother. Don’t make this harder for me than it already is.”
“What is it then? You’ve been my friend and right hand for as long as I can remember. Hell, you know I always have your back. Be honest with me.”
“I’m trying to. You need to listen to me. This is hard to say. As your friend, I’ll tell you—you’re not the Tom Gardner I once knew. Since Elise died, you’ve given up on everything that once mattered to you. You go through the motions of being alive, but that’s all.”
Tom started to say something; Nate ignored him. “I know you loved Elise, but she’s been dead for almost two years. Before your marriage went on the rocks you were a strong, levelheaded man. I admired you. Looked up to you. You were like a big brother to me.
“But if you’re going to spend the rest of your life talking to a dead woman, I won’t . . . can't, be a party to it any longer.” Nate pounded his fist on the back of the easy chair. “Damn it Tom! Don’t look so surprised. I hear you whispering and carrying on as if Elise was here with you.
Nate stood his ground, silenced Tom when he started to speak. “I’m not finished yet. When you came home from the sanatorium, I thought, with time, you’d get back to your life. But you haven’t. I wish I knew how to help you, but I don’t. It’s all on you now. If you want to spend the rest of your