Chapter Fourteen
The car door closed with a muffled bang. Gregory sighed as he looked up at Eleanor's manor. He was anxious and has been since Friday night. Looking at the driveway, he saw all the different cars. He could see Daphne, his wife, through the sitting room window. Her face was lined in worry and she was biting her thumbnail. Something she hadn't done since they were children.
His movement caught her eye and they she instantly relaxed. Raising his hand, Gregory smiled tightly and carried on walking to the front door. Evelyn was stood by the door with a suited man carrying a black case. Her body was tight with tension as she talked with the family doctor. She looked up at him as he approached.
"Gregory," she announced, clearing her throat. "You remember-"
"Dr. Bishov. Of course. It's good to see you again," Gregory finished shaking the doctor's hand.
"Mr. Simms. It's good to see you too. I just wish it was under better circumstances," he replied melancholic.
Turning to Evelyn he placed a gentle hand on her elbow and said, "I will visit everyday till I can find anything conclusive. Just keep an eye on her and ring me immediately if something happens."
The doctor nodded at Gregory and walked down the path.
"Does he know what's wrong with her?" Gregory asked.
Evelyn wrapped her arms around herself and shrugged. It seemed like a dismissive gesture, but he could see her shivering slightly. Her bottom lip quivered as her eyes twitched to stop the emotional tears from starting. Afraid that if she opened her mouth to talk, she would lose the little control she had.
"Come on," he whispered, putting an arm around her shoulders and led her back inside.
Daphne was waiting in the entrance. His wife reached for the numb Evelyn and they both slowly walked into the sitting room. Gregory looked through the open doors and saw the people stood in the room. Mary Simms and her mother in law were sat on the chaise. Other members of the family line stood around the room. Wanting to help, but not quite sure what to do. A heavy silence weighed down most of the conversation. No one could speak louder than a whisper. The only absence where the Sons. They had all decided not to tell any of them the truth. Not yet, anyway.
Turning away from the mournful room, he walked quietly to the stairs and headed to the second floor. He knew this house better than he knew his own. When he was younger, he practically lived here. William, Eleanor's son, was his best friend. Closer to him than any other person in the world. That was until he lost control.
As he walked down the corridor, the door to Eleanor's room was left open. As he approached it, he took in the change. This master room was the biggest in the house. Not only it provided a queen bed and ample space for numerous furniture, but it had a large sitting area and a corner office desk. This was Eleanor's private space. He felt wrong intruding. Stepping through the door, a voice softly spoke.
"Who's there?"
He looked at the chair that was beside Eleanor's bed. Sat in it was a very old woman. Her white hair was neatly brushed and underpinned and her Doir black suit was immaculate for a blind woman. She turned towards the door and her pure white eyes stared at him. Though she lost her sight when she was in her 30's, she could see better than anyone he knew. Call it a heightened sense or something else. Whatever it was, it was enough to make her the head of the Ipswich Elders. Her presence here was not good.
"Aunt Rowena," Gregory said dryly.
"Don't use that tone, boy," she warned as she stood up shakily.
"You knew it was me," he said watching her approach him with her arms stretched out for feeling. "You don't need to put on the invalid show."
"Of course I do," she replied smirking, losing the hard edge in her voice and the she stood up straight. Gregory was her favorite and they had camaraderie that tended to make the other family members uncomfortable.
"If I don't act old, the other tend to forget it," she sniffed, running her hands over her trouser suit. Smoothing out the creases from sitting.
"I doubt you would let them forget for long."
She kept her smirk as she stopped next to him. Gregory looked over to the bed. It was the first time he allowed himself to look at Eleanor. Her hair was long and wavy. He had usually only ever seen it up. Seeing it splayed over her white pillows made her look uncomfortably underdressed. Her hands were placed on top of the quilt. The whole thing reminded him of the sleeping beauty fairytale. Except Eleanor was older and they had no clue why she wouldn't wake up.
"Do you have any idea why she is like this?" he asked Rowena.
The old lady's white eyes shifted towards the bed. She couldn't see anything but she knew where everything was.
"I wish I did," she said softly.
Gregory watched as she looked blankly towards that side of the room.
"Not that I don't enjoy your company," Gregory said, which made Rowena snort. "But why are you here? No one knows anything yet and she could just as likely wake up tomorrow."
"She had been in this coma for two days, Gregory. What ever this is, it's not normal. I will be here until I can ascertain what the problem is."
"If it is magical and she doesn't wake up?" he asked, his heart hammering.
"I prey it doesn't come to that," she answered darkly.
Her heels clicked on the hardwood as she walked away and out the bedroom door. Gregory couldn't move. His guilt rooted him in his place. Even looking at the sleeping Eleanor surrounded by the colorful flowers around her bed made his heart quicken.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered agonizingly.
He wanted to sit by her side, and tell her these things. Hold her hand. Something. But he couldn't move.
"If I hadn't of started that attack you wouldn't have been hit," he added, crumbling in on himself.
"Sweetie?"
Gregory looked up at his concerned wife. As she as she saw his face, she rushed to him and held him tightly.
"It's my fault," he whispered into her hair.
"Shh. Come on now. You had nothing to do with it," Daphne soothed softly and she rubbed her hand over his back.
He was going to blurt out everything, there and then. But he saw Georgina's sleeping face in his mind. If he admitted the truth now, she would get hurt. And if Eleanor ever woke up again, she would never forgive him. So instead, he kept his silence as Daphne took her husband out of the room.
If they had looked up, they would have seen a man shaped shadow stood next to Eleanor's bed. Watching and listening to them as they left. Eleanor twitched. Her fingers softly clawed at the bedspread. The shadow looked down at her. She was trying hard to open her eyes. But the shadow glided over her body and sank into it. Eleanor stopped moving.
She yawned widely, bringing tears to her eyes, and slammed another book closed. Sat at a green-topped old fashion office desk, Georgina was surrounded by huge piles of books and all shapes and sizes. Most very old, where there bindings are falling apart, and others very recently published. But not a single one was helping her find answers.
A single dangling light bulb shone above her head. It lit up most of the room, but its corners remained in darkness. She was at a library in Boston, in one of the research rooms. Bribing the manager, she had been in that room uninterrupted for three days. Picking out every book that was about or made a slight reference to the Salem witch trials, she locked herself in. Only leaving to eat and go to the bathroom.
Sitting back in the uncomfortable wooden chair, she stretched her back and pulled her phone out of her pocket. It was 2am. Since leaving Ipswich her sleeping pattern had been great. Getting at least 10 hours a night. And for once in a very long time, she had begun to dream again. Georgina clicked her contact list and selected Eleanor's number. Her thumb hovered over the call button.
Though she wouldn't admit it, Georgina missed it there. Sure she hated waiting in that boathouse. It felt like she was going to go stir crazy with cabin fever, but it was nice to talk again. And to be talked too. She never realized how much she wanted that. Breaking her promise to Gregory, she hadn't been in contact. He had tried to ring her a couple of times, but she was always looking for a book or out. Eleanor hadn't rung once.
She wanted to talk to them. But there was so much to do. In less than seven weeks she ascended. And then nothing could stop her family from claiming her. If she didn't find anything here, she would try Salem or Gloucester. She wouldn't go back to Ipswich. She would come to realize that it wasn't out of selfishness of self-preservation. It was to protect them.
Turning off her phone, she got up and turned off the light. Walking through the darkness, careful not to knock her pile of books down, she bent down to get into the makeshift bed she made. Once covered, she prayed she wouldn't dream of a certain blue eyed blonde bad boy who had been in her dreams of late.