Second Interlude
Rocky road ice cream. Mama had promised rocky-road ice cream - a double scoop, with extra sprinkles, and maybe, maybe even whipped cream on top. Lisa Anne Sloper, age 6, couldn't even remember the last time she tasted ~any~ ice cream, let alone her all-time favorite - and with sprinkles, too! And she would have some - Mama had promised - all she had to do was ~be good.~ Be good, and listen to the nice man and do what he said.
Mama had made ~being good~ sound easy enough, and Lisa Anne was trying her best to sit still and listen, but she was so sleepy that she could barely keep her eyes open. It would have been nice to sleep, the little girl thought, especially in the chair she was sitting in. It was big, soft and puffy - like it was stuffed with clouds. It was the kind of chair a princess would have, she decided. A princess would sit on it, and maybe sleep on it, too, and stay sleeping until the handsome prince came to wake her up.
Lisa Anne smiled for a moment. She liked playing princess; it was fun. It would be fun to play right then, while she was sitting in the big fluffy chair, sitting straight up and ~being good~. But she didn't want to close her eyes -- every time she did, the bad man would come. He'd come and start hitting and kicking Mama, making her eyes turn big and black and her lips fat and split, and her face mottled and blotchy like a pizza with much of the cheese torn away. Mama would cry and cry on the floor while the bad man hit and hit her, screaming at her to "be quiet, damn you!'' punctuating the foul words with savage kicks.
After awhile, Mama ~would~ be quiet. Her tears stopped and the hands she used to protect her side would fall limply to the floor. She'd obey the bad man, and stop making noise, but he wouldn't stop hurting her. He'd keep kicking and hitting and punching until a little river of red snaked from Mama's open, swollen mouth, all the way through the living room and to the little cubby where Lisa Anne hid, trembling, watching, unable to close her ears to Mama's crying. But the sinister silence that stretched across the entire house was much, much worse. Mama lying still on the floor with the blood leaking out of her like air from a balloon frightened Lisa Anne much more than the crying had.
But at least now the bad man had stopped hurting Mama. He stood looking down at her, breathing heavy, with sweat pouring down the back of his neck. The bad man seemed confused by the trail of crimson, and, turning his back on the still woman rumpled silent on the floor, he followed the path of blood through the living room, stopping when the trail stopped - at the little cubby. Lisa Anne would try to hold herself very still, believing that if she just tried hard enough, she could make herself almost invisible and as completely still as Mama was - she wouldn't utter a sound. But hard as she tried, the bad man always found her. He'd reach into the cubby and pull her out by the collar. He'd look at her and smile, but the smile never reached his eyes, making him look even scarier than he'd looked when he was beating Mama. He'd draw her close until they were almost nose-to-nose. The bad man was smiling the mean smile again and he was squeezing her arm painfully. ~Be good, little Lisa Anne, be good and close your eyes,~ he'd whisper, his breath hot and sour, like burned toast. She'd shiver, and close her eyes, hoping he'd go away then, but never did. He never went away. Not ever. He'd grip her arm tighter and curl his other hand into a tight fist, drawing it back slowly, on a level with her nose. He'd pause a minute, grinning madly, and then the fist would come down hot and hard, and the world would break into about a million pieces.
And then there was darkness, stillness stretching out and curling all around her, like the legs of a dead spider. Silence.
Lisa Anne couldn't remember much more than that, because suddenly the bad man would vanish and Mama would be there, by her side, telling the girl to hush, she'd only been having a nightmare. Lisa Anne, confused, would search the woman's face for bruises or cuts, and finding none, would be forced to take Mama's word for it that the bad man had never been in the house at all - it had all been just a dream. But if it was just a dream, why did Mama seem so scared? Why had they left their big, airy home to move into the little apartment with Grandma Emmy? Why did Mama insist on sleeping on a little cot in her room? Lisa Anne couldn't understand it, but she somehow knew that Mama was afraid of the bad man, too - even though Mama said she'd only been dreaming. At any rate, Lisa Anne was afraid to close her eyes, even when Mama promised to keep all the lights on. Lights wouldn't scare away the bad man, Lisa Anne believed. Nothing scared away the bad man, except . . . well, except when she kept her eyes open. The bad man didn't like that - he'd said so. So that is what Lisa Anne decided to do - she kept her eyes open as long as she could, fighting the pull of sleep, knowing that if she shut her eyes, even for a moment, the bad man would make his approach.
Lisa Anne slouched a little in the downy chair, casting a glance to see if Mama had noticed. Mama didn't like her to slouch. ~It'll ruin your back~ she always said. ~Good girls always sit up straight.~ And Lisa Anne was trying so very hard to ~be good~. She so wanted the rocky road ice cream with the sprinkles. But it was so hard to sit up in the comfortable chair. It contoured to her small form, nearly enveloping her, inviting her to tarry a while and rest.
The young girl looked over to the other side of the dark room, where Mama and the nice man were talking. Mama would glance at the young girl worriedly from time to time, and so would the nice man. His cherry-colored cheeks reminded Lisa Anne of the nose of Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer. The nice man had a big belly, too, like Santa Claus, and his blue eyes twinkled a bit like jolly old St. Nick's. Lisa Anne remembered how the nice man had twinkled at her when he held her on his knew, splashing her face with a bit of nice, cool water from a big round bathtub in the middle of the floor. Lisa Anne had thought, to have a bathtub outside of the ~bathroom~.
She had wanted to ask Mama about it, but then the nice man had made her drink some of the water from the bathtub, and Lisa Anne, surprised, had forgotten her question. At first, she resisted the nice man's efforts to make her drink, but then he'd smiled at her and told her to ~be good~ and drink - that if she did, the bad man would go away forever. The promise of the ice cream and the disappearance of the bad man danced in front of her eyes, and she obligingly drank the water, which was cool and nice. The nice man had picked her up then and put her in the fluffy chair, telling her what a ~good~ girl she had been. Then he'd gone to talk to Mama. Lisa Anne had been glad when the nice man had left her alone at last, for, though he spoke to her in soft, sweet tones and smiled at her a lot, he had a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes - kind of like the bad man from her dreams.
The little girl shuddered. She wouldn't think about the bad man any more; she just wanted to stay in the fluffy chair and pretend she was a beautiful princess waiting for the handsome prince to come. Lisa Anne's eyelids fluttered, and she yawned again, burrowing deeper into the chair. Maybe if she closed her eyes just a ~little~ while, it would be okay. After all, ~everyone~ knew that a handsome prince expected to find a ~sleeping~ princess. So she'd close her eyes and ~pretend~ to sleep - but only for a little while - such bad thins happened whenever she closed her eyes . . .
"Oh ~no~," Cinda Sloper turned in time to see Lisa Anne's blonde head slip down to the armrest. "I'd better wake her before she scares the whole neighborhood with her yelling." She started toward the little girl, but her companion stayed her arm.
"Mrs. Sloper, it is all right,'' he murmured. "As I told you, young Lisa Anne has been cured of the horrendous visions. She is fine, and, I would think, exhausted from her ordeal. Let her sleep."
"But . . . it's just that . . ." Cinda glanced helplessly at the little girl. "I want to believe it, sir, really I do, but nothing I've tried seems to help - I've taken her to the best doctors . . . and they can tell me nothing. I heard that Gotham Mercy was at least keeping younger children for observation, and that's where we were going when I had the misfortune to tap you with my car. Again, sir, I am so sorry - I was rushing . . . with Lisa Anne as she is, I haven't been able to sleep very well, either."
"Apologies are not necessary, Mrs. Sloper. "I saw how desperate you were for help for young Lisa Anne," her companion replied. "And how strong your faith is, Mrs. Sloper. I could read that in every line of your expression. That's why I chose ~you~ and Lisa Anne to be among the first to come and receive my treatment. I knew that you would understand the importance of faith in healing the body and soul."
"That, and I have nothing else to lose by trying your method. And Lisa Anne seemed to take to you," she smiled. "She's usually very shy around strangers."
"Oh, I enjoy young people. They are, in my view, artwork in its purest form. And your Lisa Anne is a perfect example. What a vivid mind she has -- and a memory to match, as well."
Cinda blushed at her companion's knowing look. "I still can't believe she remembers so much of her father's behavior to have such nightmares about it. She was so young - only three - when I left Gene for good. Such a brute he was . . . but luckily for me and Lisa Anne, he agreed to leave us alone . . . for the right price, of course."
"Children remember more unpleasantness of that sort than one might think. Their minds are like sponges. But after today, you will not have to worry about Lisa Anne's being troubled by such images. Just look," he guided the woman toward the sleeping child. "She is slumbering quite peacefully . . . like a little angel."
"My goodness . . . you're right," the woman gazed at her daughter in amazement. "She usually starts screaming by now." Cinda glanced sharply over her shoulder. "But how on earth can you know that she's all right?"
"I have a power, Mrs. Sloper," came the reply. "It is a gift, really. Within my hands, within my soul is the power to ~heal~. And that, combined with your trust, and your faith, can drive an evil out. For only evil would disturb the innocent sleep of a child, correct? I have the power to dispel that evil, and that face," he pointed to Lisa Anne, "~that~ face is the face of one whose mind has been put at ease. My healing hands, Mrs. Sloper, have touched Lisa Anne. Your daughter has been saved. She is going to be . . . all right."
Cinda was quiet for some moments. Then, "I believe you, but I 'm not sure ~why~ I believe you. I don't know you, sir, don't even know your name. Don't even know what possessed me to come up here, except maybe because I'm desperate."
"And scared, I'd imagine."
"Sure, I'm scared. Who wouldn't be, considering what's happened. This whole city's stone terrified."
"With good reason. A great evil has descended upon Gotham; an evil that is tearing at the fabric of citizens' well-being and sanity. And there is nothing that can be done about it, no one that can help them. No one, except me, of course," he smiled, holding up one of his hands, palm- outward. "Except me."
He grinned at Cinda's awed look. "But talk is, to be trite, cheap, Mrs. Sloper. Results are what you want to see, I know, so lets not delay any longer. Wake young Lisa Anne and view the transformation for yourself."
Cinda hesitated, gnawing thoughtfully on her bottom lip. "Part of me wants to just let her sleep. She's so tired . . ."
"Of course she is . . . and I can tell that you are, too, Mrs. Sloper. But I want to prove to you that I am not misleading you about my ability. I want to show you that you did not put your trust in me in vain. Please . . . wake her, and all shall become clear."
"Well . . . all right," She leaned close to Lisa Anne's ear, stroking the girl's downy blonde braids. "Sweet pumpkin . . . it's Mama. It's time to wake up, baby."
Lisa Anne shifted, murmuring softly. Cinda glanced worriedly up at her companion. He nodded encouragingly, urging her on.
"Sweetie, wake up now," she gently shook the girl's arm. "Lisa Anne? Can you hear me? It's Mama."
Cinda smiled slightly as she saw the green eyes flutter open. "Hi, sweetie. Are you all right?"
Lisa Anne blinked rapidly at the overhead light shining directly into the girl's eyes, hurting them. "Mama?"
"Yes baby, it's me," Cinda stooped beside the chair. "Did you have a nice nap?" Cinda's heart leapt joyfully at Lisa Anne's nod. "You . . . you ~did~?"
"I was dreaming . . . I was a princess," Lisa Anne's voice was drowsy. "I was in a big castle in the clouds . . . and I had a gazillion pretty dresses and so many dollies I couldn't play with them all." The girl yawned widely. "It was so pretty . . . I wish I could be a ~real~ princess. It would be so nice . . . wouldn't it, Mama?"
"Yes, baby . . . it would," Emotion clouded Cinda's voice as she wrapped her daughter in her arms. "It sure would . . ." The tears flowed freely, racing down her face in crystal streaks.
Lisa Anne hugged her mother uncertainly, wondering if she had, somehow, managed to ~be good~ enough for the ice cream. She meant to ask Mama about it - but she was so ~tired~ and Mama had woken her from such a nice dream. "Mama . . . I'm so tired," Lisa Anne yawned again. "Want to take a nap . . . please?"
Cinda stood with Lisa Anne still clasped in her arms, her face surprisingly radiant in her exhaustion. "Can it be true? Is she going to be all right . . . for good? I mean . . . whatever you've done . . . it won't wear off? Should I bring her to you again if she starts having the dreams again, or -- "
Her companion shook his head slowly. "There will be no more of ~those~ dreams. On this, you have my word. She is cured, Mrs. Sloper. She is cured."
Cinda Sloper adjusted Lisa Anne in her arms, kissing the top of her daughter's head. "Sir, I don't have the words to thank you. Not even the doctors . . . when they tried to make her sleep, gave her their medicines and shots, she'd wake up screaming as if someone were trying to kill her. I truly . . . you are . . . a miracle worker," Cinda's voice was appropriately awed. "Never in my life have I ~ever~ seen . . . I mean, my grandmamma talked about faith healers - people like you -- but I always thought that was a bunch of silliness- But I'm blathering. I'm so sorry . . . I'm just . . . overjoyed," Cinda fumbled at her purse. "You must allow me to pay you ~something~. I insist -"
"Your grandmother was wise beyond her years," he replied with a wink. "And as for thanks . . . well, gratitude is, of course, enough. But, Mrs. Sloper, there is something you can do for me . . ."
"~Anything~. Anything at all," Cinda smiled at Lisa Anne's quiet snores. "Anything."
"Well," the round man walked toward her, holding out a sheaf of yellow- tinged cards. "Your Lisa Anne is in school . . . a private one, I would gather?"
"Why yes. She attends Syares Prep."
"And, I imagine, there are many young ones - and their parents, too - who are as troubled in their sleep as Lisa Anne was?"
"Plenty," Cinda nodded. "As a matter of fact, her school's been closed to keep . . . whatever it is going on from spreading."
"Well then . . . Lisa Anne's recovery will be a revelation to them all. They'll wish to know, I'm sure, how it was done. Please give these cards to any and all that ask," He placed them in her purse. "I wish to offer my services to any who needs them . . . but my little group is a rather modest one. We do not have the resources to advertise via the media. But even if we did, well, I wouldn't want it . . . there is no more effective advertisement than Lisa Anne as she is now."
"Why, sir, I'd be happy to," Cinda beamed. "I think it is so wonderful that you're putting yourself out like this, to help -"
"My only wish is to help," he replied. "I am only following my calling in that regard. And I hope to avail more of the city to my healing abilities."
"You shall, if I have anything to say about it," Cinda said. "I have contacts at WGTHM, and I will ensure that they have a news crew out here post-haste. If I have anything to say about it, this entire city will know your name," she paused with a slight scowl. "And, er, what exactly, ~is~ your name?"
Chaise Merrill smiled benevolently. "My name? Call me, my dear lady, call me . . . the Healer."
~*~
Rocky road ice cream. Mama had promised rocky-road ice cream - a double scoop, with extra sprinkles, and maybe, maybe even whipped cream on top. Lisa Anne Sloper, age 6, couldn't even remember the last time she tasted ~any~ ice cream, let alone her all-time favorite - and with sprinkles, too! And she would have some - Mama had promised - all she had to do was ~be good.~ Be good, and listen to the nice man and do what he said.
Mama had made ~being good~ sound easy enough, and Lisa Anne was trying her best to sit still and listen, but she was so sleepy that she could barely keep her eyes open. It would have been nice to sleep, the little girl thought, especially in the chair she was sitting in. It was big, soft and puffy - like it was stuffed with clouds. It was the kind of chair a princess would have, she decided. A princess would sit on it, and maybe sleep on it, too, and stay sleeping until the handsome prince came to wake her up.
Lisa Anne smiled for a moment. She liked playing princess; it was fun. It would be fun to play right then, while she was sitting in the big fluffy chair, sitting straight up and ~being good~. But she didn't want to close her eyes -- every time she did, the bad man would come. He'd come and start hitting and kicking Mama, making her eyes turn big and black and her lips fat and split, and her face mottled and blotchy like a pizza with much of the cheese torn away. Mama would cry and cry on the floor while the bad man hit and hit her, screaming at her to "be quiet, damn you!'' punctuating the foul words with savage kicks.
After awhile, Mama ~would~ be quiet. Her tears stopped and the hands she used to protect her side would fall limply to the floor. She'd obey the bad man, and stop making noise, but he wouldn't stop hurting her. He'd keep kicking and hitting and punching until a little river of red snaked from Mama's open, swollen mouth, all the way through the living room and to the little cubby where Lisa Anne hid, trembling, watching, unable to close her ears to Mama's crying. But the sinister silence that stretched across the entire house was much, much worse. Mama lying still on the floor with the blood leaking out of her like air from a balloon frightened Lisa Anne much more than the crying had.
But at least now the bad man had stopped hurting Mama. He stood looking down at her, breathing heavy, with sweat pouring down the back of his neck. The bad man seemed confused by the trail of crimson, and, turning his back on the still woman rumpled silent on the floor, he followed the path of blood through the living room, stopping when the trail stopped - at the little cubby. Lisa Anne would try to hold herself very still, believing that if she just tried hard enough, she could make herself almost invisible and as completely still as Mama was - she wouldn't utter a sound. But hard as she tried, the bad man always found her. He'd reach into the cubby and pull her out by the collar. He'd look at her and smile, but the smile never reached his eyes, making him look even scarier than he'd looked when he was beating Mama. He'd draw her close until they were almost nose-to-nose. The bad man was smiling the mean smile again and he was squeezing her arm painfully. ~Be good, little Lisa Anne, be good and close your eyes,~ he'd whisper, his breath hot and sour, like burned toast. She'd shiver, and close her eyes, hoping he'd go away then, but never did. He never went away. Not ever. He'd grip her arm tighter and curl his other hand into a tight fist, drawing it back slowly, on a level with her nose. He'd pause a minute, grinning madly, and then the fist would come down hot and hard, and the world would break into about a million pieces.
And then there was darkness, stillness stretching out and curling all around her, like the legs of a dead spider. Silence.
Lisa Anne couldn't remember much more than that, because suddenly the bad man would vanish and Mama would be there, by her side, telling the girl to hush, she'd only been having a nightmare. Lisa Anne, confused, would search the woman's face for bruises or cuts, and finding none, would be forced to take Mama's word for it that the bad man had never been in the house at all - it had all been just a dream. But if it was just a dream, why did Mama seem so scared? Why had they left their big, airy home to move into the little apartment with Grandma Emmy? Why did Mama insist on sleeping on a little cot in her room? Lisa Anne couldn't understand it, but she somehow knew that Mama was afraid of the bad man, too - even though Mama said she'd only been dreaming. At any rate, Lisa Anne was afraid to close her eyes, even when Mama promised to keep all the lights on. Lights wouldn't scare away the bad man, Lisa Anne believed. Nothing scared away the bad man, except . . . well, except when she kept her eyes open. The bad man didn't like that - he'd said so. So that is what Lisa Anne decided to do - she kept her eyes open as long as she could, fighting the pull of sleep, knowing that if she shut her eyes, even for a moment, the bad man would make his approach.
Lisa Anne slouched a little in the downy chair, casting a glance to see if Mama had noticed. Mama didn't like her to slouch. ~It'll ruin your back~ she always said. ~Good girls always sit up straight.~ And Lisa Anne was trying so very hard to ~be good~. She so wanted the rocky road ice cream with the sprinkles. But it was so hard to sit up in the comfortable chair. It contoured to her small form, nearly enveloping her, inviting her to tarry a while and rest.
The young girl looked over to the other side of the dark room, where Mama and the nice man were talking. Mama would glance at the young girl worriedly from time to time, and so would the nice man. His cherry-colored cheeks reminded Lisa Anne of the nose of Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer. The nice man had a big belly, too, like Santa Claus, and his blue eyes twinkled a bit like jolly old St. Nick's. Lisa Anne remembered how the nice man had twinkled at her when he held her on his knew, splashing her face with a bit of nice, cool water from a big round bathtub in the middle of the floor. Lisa Anne had thought, to have a bathtub outside of the ~bathroom~.
She had wanted to ask Mama about it, but then the nice man had made her drink some of the water from the bathtub, and Lisa Anne, surprised, had forgotten her question. At first, she resisted the nice man's efforts to make her drink, but then he'd smiled at her and told her to ~be good~ and drink - that if she did, the bad man would go away forever. The promise of the ice cream and the disappearance of the bad man danced in front of her eyes, and she obligingly drank the water, which was cool and nice. The nice man had picked her up then and put her in the fluffy chair, telling her what a ~good~ girl she had been. Then he'd gone to talk to Mama. Lisa Anne had been glad when the nice man had left her alone at last, for, though he spoke to her in soft, sweet tones and smiled at her a lot, he had a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes - kind of like the bad man from her dreams.
The little girl shuddered. She wouldn't think about the bad man any more; she just wanted to stay in the fluffy chair and pretend she was a beautiful princess waiting for the handsome prince to come. Lisa Anne's eyelids fluttered, and she yawned again, burrowing deeper into the chair. Maybe if she closed her eyes just a ~little~ while, it would be okay. After all, ~everyone~ knew that a handsome prince expected to find a ~sleeping~ princess. So she'd close her eyes and ~pretend~ to sleep - but only for a little while - such bad thins happened whenever she closed her eyes . . .
"Oh ~no~," Cinda Sloper turned in time to see Lisa Anne's blonde head slip down to the armrest. "I'd better wake her before she scares the whole neighborhood with her yelling." She started toward the little girl, but her companion stayed her arm.
"Mrs. Sloper, it is all right,'' he murmured. "As I told you, young Lisa Anne has been cured of the horrendous visions. She is fine, and, I would think, exhausted from her ordeal. Let her sleep."
"But . . . it's just that . . ." Cinda glanced helplessly at the little girl. "I want to believe it, sir, really I do, but nothing I've tried seems to help - I've taken her to the best doctors . . . and they can tell me nothing. I heard that Gotham Mercy was at least keeping younger children for observation, and that's where we were going when I had the misfortune to tap you with my car. Again, sir, I am so sorry - I was rushing . . . with Lisa Anne as she is, I haven't been able to sleep very well, either."
"Apologies are not necessary, Mrs. Sloper. "I saw how desperate you were for help for young Lisa Anne," her companion replied. "And how strong your faith is, Mrs. Sloper. I could read that in every line of your expression. That's why I chose ~you~ and Lisa Anne to be among the first to come and receive my treatment. I knew that you would understand the importance of faith in healing the body and soul."
"That, and I have nothing else to lose by trying your method. And Lisa Anne seemed to take to you," she smiled. "She's usually very shy around strangers."
"Oh, I enjoy young people. They are, in my view, artwork in its purest form. And your Lisa Anne is a perfect example. What a vivid mind she has -- and a memory to match, as well."
Cinda blushed at her companion's knowing look. "I still can't believe she remembers so much of her father's behavior to have such nightmares about it. She was so young - only three - when I left Gene for good. Such a brute he was . . . but luckily for me and Lisa Anne, he agreed to leave us alone . . . for the right price, of course."
"Children remember more unpleasantness of that sort than one might think. Their minds are like sponges. But after today, you will not have to worry about Lisa Anne's being troubled by such images. Just look," he guided the woman toward the sleeping child. "She is slumbering quite peacefully . . . like a little angel."
"My goodness . . . you're right," the woman gazed at her daughter in amazement. "She usually starts screaming by now." Cinda glanced sharply over her shoulder. "But how on earth can you know that she's all right?"
"I have a power, Mrs. Sloper," came the reply. "It is a gift, really. Within my hands, within my soul is the power to ~heal~. And that, combined with your trust, and your faith, can drive an evil out. For only evil would disturb the innocent sleep of a child, correct? I have the power to dispel that evil, and that face," he pointed to Lisa Anne, "~that~ face is the face of one whose mind has been put at ease. My healing hands, Mrs. Sloper, have touched Lisa Anne. Your daughter has been saved. She is going to be . . . all right."
Cinda was quiet for some moments. Then, "I believe you, but I 'm not sure ~why~ I believe you. I don't know you, sir, don't even know your name. Don't even know what possessed me to come up here, except maybe because I'm desperate."
"And scared, I'd imagine."
"Sure, I'm scared. Who wouldn't be, considering what's happened. This whole city's stone terrified."
"With good reason. A great evil has descended upon Gotham; an evil that is tearing at the fabric of citizens' well-being and sanity. And there is nothing that can be done about it, no one that can help them. No one, except me, of course," he smiled, holding up one of his hands, palm- outward. "Except me."
He grinned at Cinda's awed look. "But talk is, to be trite, cheap, Mrs. Sloper. Results are what you want to see, I know, so lets not delay any longer. Wake young Lisa Anne and view the transformation for yourself."
Cinda hesitated, gnawing thoughtfully on her bottom lip. "Part of me wants to just let her sleep. She's so tired . . ."
"Of course she is . . . and I can tell that you are, too, Mrs. Sloper. But I want to prove to you that I am not misleading you about my ability. I want to show you that you did not put your trust in me in vain. Please . . . wake her, and all shall become clear."
"Well . . . all right," She leaned close to Lisa Anne's ear, stroking the girl's downy blonde braids. "Sweet pumpkin . . . it's Mama. It's time to wake up, baby."
Lisa Anne shifted, murmuring softly. Cinda glanced worriedly up at her companion. He nodded encouragingly, urging her on.
"Sweetie, wake up now," she gently shook the girl's arm. "Lisa Anne? Can you hear me? It's Mama."
Cinda smiled slightly as she saw the green eyes flutter open. "Hi, sweetie. Are you all right?"
Lisa Anne blinked rapidly at the overhead light shining directly into the girl's eyes, hurting them. "Mama?"
"Yes baby, it's me," Cinda stooped beside the chair. "Did you have a nice nap?" Cinda's heart leapt joyfully at Lisa Anne's nod. "You . . . you ~did~?"
"I was dreaming . . . I was a princess," Lisa Anne's voice was drowsy. "I was in a big castle in the clouds . . . and I had a gazillion pretty dresses and so many dollies I couldn't play with them all." The girl yawned widely. "It was so pretty . . . I wish I could be a ~real~ princess. It would be so nice . . . wouldn't it, Mama?"
"Yes, baby . . . it would," Emotion clouded Cinda's voice as she wrapped her daughter in her arms. "It sure would . . ." The tears flowed freely, racing down her face in crystal streaks.
Lisa Anne hugged her mother uncertainly, wondering if she had, somehow, managed to ~be good~ enough for the ice cream. She meant to ask Mama about it - but she was so ~tired~ and Mama had woken her from such a nice dream. "Mama . . . I'm so tired," Lisa Anne yawned again. "Want to take a nap . . . please?"
Cinda stood with Lisa Anne still clasped in her arms, her face surprisingly radiant in her exhaustion. "Can it be true? Is she going to be all right . . . for good? I mean . . . whatever you've done . . . it won't wear off? Should I bring her to you again if she starts having the dreams again, or -- "
Her companion shook his head slowly. "There will be no more of ~those~ dreams. On this, you have my word. She is cured, Mrs. Sloper. She is cured."
Cinda Sloper adjusted Lisa Anne in her arms, kissing the top of her daughter's head. "Sir, I don't have the words to thank you. Not even the doctors . . . when they tried to make her sleep, gave her their medicines and shots, she'd wake up screaming as if someone were trying to kill her. I truly . . . you are . . . a miracle worker," Cinda's voice was appropriately awed. "Never in my life have I ~ever~ seen . . . I mean, my grandmamma talked about faith healers - people like you -- but I always thought that was a bunch of silliness- But I'm blathering. I'm so sorry . . . I'm just . . . overjoyed," Cinda fumbled at her purse. "You must allow me to pay you ~something~. I insist -"
"Your grandmother was wise beyond her years," he replied with a wink. "And as for thanks . . . well, gratitude is, of course, enough. But, Mrs. Sloper, there is something you can do for me . . ."
"~Anything~. Anything at all," Cinda smiled at Lisa Anne's quiet snores. "Anything."
"Well," the round man walked toward her, holding out a sheaf of yellow- tinged cards. "Your Lisa Anne is in school . . . a private one, I would gather?"
"Why yes. She attends Syares Prep."
"And, I imagine, there are many young ones - and their parents, too - who are as troubled in their sleep as Lisa Anne was?"
"Plenty," Cinda nodded. "As a matter of fact, her school's been closed to keep . . . whatever it is going on from spreading."
"Well then . . . Lisa Anne's recovery will be a revelation to them all. They'll wish to know, I'm sure, how it was done. Please give these cards to any and all that ask," He placed them in her purse. "I wish to offer my services to any who needs them . . . but my little group is a rather modest one. We do not have the resources to advertise via the media. But even if we did, well, I wouldn't want it . . . there is no more effective advertisement than Lisa Anne as she is now."
"Why, sir, I'd be happy to," Cinda beamed. "I think it is so wonderful that you're putting yourself out like this, to help -"
"My only wish is to help," he replied. "I am only following my calling in that regard. And I hope to avail more of the city to my healing abilities."
"You shall, if I have anything to say about it," Cinda said. "I have contacts at WGTHM, and I will ensure that they have a news crew out here post-haste. If I have anything to say about it, this entire city will know your name," she paused with a slight scowl. "And, er, what exactly, ~is~ your name?"
Chaise Merrill smiled benevolently. "My name? Call me, my dear lady, call me . . . the Healer."
~*~
