The Revelation

As they sat in the Turpin's parlor, Mr. Turpin listened stoically to Adam. Mrs. Turpin began to weep when Adam mentioned that Cecile had said there were angels in her room.

"It's all right, Edwina. There's that place in Vermont, the Brattleboro Retreat that Dr. Martin told us about in case we needed it. We can send her there."

"Wait," Adam said. "You can't send her away-I want to marry Cecile." Mr. and Mrs. Turpin stared at him.

"You want to marry her?" Mr. Turpin asked.

"Yes. I asked her earlier tonight and she said yes. She wanted to talk to you first. I take it she didn't yet."

"No," Mr. Turpin said, sitting heavily on the sofa. "Cecile was so excited when she came home that we, her mother and I, thought it best that she go to bed, that she rest. She was always prone to excitability. Always. We thought it was just that."

Adam leaned toward Cecile's parents. "I want to marry her and I'll take care of her. Whatever she needs, doctors, rest, whatever, I'll take care of it and pay for it. I love her and I'll help her."

"It's not that simple, Adam," Mr. Turpin said. "I wish it were."

"I know it's not simple but with me, at least she'll be out in the world-not locked away in some…hospital—that Brattleboro Institute. I know Cecile's fragile-I'll protect her."

"Adam, you need to understand about Cecile." And Mr. Turpin began to tell Adam about his daughter while Mrs. Turpin cried softly.

Cecile had always been brilliant-everyone was amazed by her intelligence but she was "excitable." the word her parents chose to use. As a child she talked to people who weren't there but they had put it down to her being lonely as an only child and she was imaginative so these "people" came as no surprise. Cecile had called them "angels" and said that they visited her and helped her. As she became older, she talked less about the "angels" until she stopped talking about them completely. Her parents believed that she had finally outgrown the imaginary "friends."

Since Cecile learned everything so quickly, at eight years, they decided she should learn to play the piano. It was an admired social skill and Cecile was eager to learn once they mentioned it. So she started lessons with Mr. Handy, the piano teacher. Mr. Turpin asked Adam if he remembered Tom Handy. Adam said that he did, a short, pale man with blond hair only a year younger than Adam. He never drank or visited the saloons and Hoss had once remarked that he wondered if Handy even liked girls. But one night, late, as Adam passed Handy's house on his way out of town, he heard Handy playing the piano and Adam stopped to listen. Adam was unfamiliar with the composition but it had a haunting melody and Adam wished he could play so beautifully. And then the music stopped and Adam went on his way but the memory of the notes followed him.

Cecile had great talent and played beautifully. And as a child, she even played a few times in church although she had never played an organ before-but she took to it quickly although she was too small to handle the pedaling so Mr. Handy sat beside her on the bench and worked the pedals while Cecile played the keys. Then, when Cecile was thirteen, one morning she started throwing up, couldn't keep anything down for days and Dr. Martin was called in. It was then that they found out that Cecile was with child. Cecile said that the angels had given her a child; that was what she insisted because she believed it. They sent Cecile to Mr. Turpin's sister in Maryland to have her child.

The Turpins were certain that the father was one of the rowdies from some nearby farm who had pulled Cecile down into the grass one day after school as Cecile walked home and that she had been so traumatized that she couldn't remember the incident. But, Mr. Turpin asked Adam, did he remember when Mr. Handy hanged himself in his parlor? Adam said that he did, that Mrs. Connors and her son who had arrived for lessons found him. No one knew why he had done so.

Turpin said that he knew, he and Dr. Martin and Sheriff Coffee because the sheriff had found the note. In the note Handy had confessed that he loved Cecile and that she loved him-she was young but she loved him

"Handy wrote," Mr. Turpin said," that he had asked for God's forgiveness and for ours-I've never been able to do it. I hope he's burning in hell for what he did to her."

"What about the child?" Adam quietly asked.

"It was born early and died-Cecile was so young, so small-and the child dying, all of it caused Cecile to fall apart. The doctor in Maryland said that Cecile's mind was like a shattered mirror and would never be whole again-she would always be in danger of going back to a state-well going back to her delusions about angels visiting her but more emphatically that she might become worse, lose contact with reality completely. So we sent her to a "retreat" in Germany run by nuns that the doctor recommended. And when they wrote us last year that she was so much better, that Cecile hadn't had an episode in two years, well, we hoped that all would be fine-that she was better. We wanted to give Cecile a chance at a normal life, at happiness which is why we took a chance and let her spend time with you. You seemed to be…well, it was hard after the music teacher but I decided that I trusted you-I always have. But tonight, when Cecile came home, I could see it. We could both see it." He put his arm around his wife's shoulders.

"Maybe there really are angels," Adam said, "and we just don't see them. Maybe Cecile is special-is on a different vibration, sees things beyond us. But no matter what, I can help her. I know I can. I'll read everything I can find about her condition, I'll talk to specialists-please, let me have her as my wife. I promise you that I'll keep her safe and you can see her-we'll be close to you. I can't lose her…don't take her away from me. Please."

Mr. Turpin shook his head. "It can't be, Adam. It doesn't look now as if Cecile will ever be well and what would you do, Adam? Lock her in her room all day while you were gone to keep her safe? Tie her to the bed post every night to keep her from running out while you slept? What if she had a child? Would you trust her alone with it?" Mr. Turpin stood up. "Let me get dressed and I'll follow you to the Ponderosa and bring her home."

No," Adam said. "She's asleep now-I gave her a small dose of laudanum. I'll bring her home in the morning. Let me keep her with me until then-please."

Mr. Turpin glanced at his wife. Then he turned to Adam. "All right. We're trusting you-we'll expect her by ten in the morning if not earlier. Do I have your word?"

Adam stood up and looked at Cecile's parents. "You have my word." Mr. Turpin stood up and the two men shook hands. And Adam rode back to the Ponderosa and in rhythm to his horse's hoof beats, Cecile's name kept repeating in his head.

"It's all right, Cecile,' Adam said as he walked her up the porch steps to her parents' house, his arm around her waist. Mrs. Turpin opened the door having heard the rig. She put her arms out and pulled her daughter to her.

"Oh, my baby, my baby." Mrs. Turpin started to cry again.

"Thank you, Adam," Mr. Turpin said, coming out behind his wife. Mrs. Turpin talked quietly to Cecile and began to guide her into the house.

Cecile turned to look at Adam. "Adam, I'll wait until you come for me."

Adam swallowed the bitter taste in his throat. He dropped his head as Cecile entered the house and was taken away from him. He turned to Mr. Turpin. "I'd like to see her before she goes."

"I don't think that's a good idea. Dr. Martin may have to sedate her-I don't think she'll easily leave you. Knowing Cecile, she'll more than likely talk about you, want to know where you are and if her 'angels' tell her to go to you-well, she'll try to get to you and it'll be problematic at the least. It's best that you don't see her-it will just be fuel for her mania. You need to let her go."

Adam barely nodded. He walked over to the rig and untied his horse from the back. He mounted his horse and started to leave but glanced up to Cecile's room and saw her standing at the window, her palms pressed against the glass, her eyes wide, questioning him. Adam thought that her ethereal beauty made him believe anew in angels and Adam wondered if Cecile couldn't possibly be an angel become flesh, caught in the madness of this world and unable to get back to her heavenly state.

"And palm to palm is holy palmer's kiss," Adam murmured. Cecile's words echoed in his head. He wondered why he hadn't looked at Cecile's palm as she had his, looked to see her life line-but then he remembered that she had said that it couldn't reveal if a life was happy, just long. And Adam so wanted Cecile to be happy.

"Oh, Cecile," he whispered. And as he watched, someone came up behind her and gently pulled Cecile away from the window and that was the last Adam saw of her-the last memory he had of her.

"Goodbye, my love," Adam said. And he turned his horse toward the Ponderosa. But many nights for the rest of his long life, Cecile would appear in Adam's dreams, happy and laughing and he liked to think that it was Cecile letting him know that she still loved him and would always love him and Adam felt that she protected him. She was his angel and he felt fortunate to have known her and to have won her love.

~ Finis ~