Angie of the Garden

Chapter Seven-2

They shook hands before Gregory left the office. Hollis sat at his desk for some time after and began to plan the treatment of Detective Hill. The patient's unshakable belief in his delusion would be difficult to overcome. Gregory was not here because somewhere on the deepest psychological level he had come to the conclusion a doctor's help was required. Hollis began to develop a strategy as he looked through the detective's drawings.
Two days later Doctor Simms left for a psychiatric conference in San Diego, though his concerns about Angie made him a reluctant traveler. He had desperately searched for a legitimate reason to cancel his plans. Ordinarily finding one would not have been very difficult for him to do, but in this instance Olivia and Annabelle were to accompany him. They would be extremely displeased to learn that he had decided not to attend.
"Who is this patient?" Olivia asked him after Hollis hinted he might have to stay home because of a particularly difficult case.
"She's someone with a deeply troubled past," he replied. "She needs my help, and we are at a very significant juncture in her therapy."
"All your patients need your help, Hollis. That's why they're your patients. If they didn't need your skills as a doctor then you'd never know these people. Just tell her to take a sedative and watch a rerun of you on Robin Wainscot."
Doctor Simms gave his wife a stern look. He never tolerated any humor that came at the expense of his patients.
"Come on, Dad. You're becoming a workaholic," Annabelle, who had overheard their conversation, said as she entered the room.

"I suppose there's no harm in leaving for several days," Hollis finally conceded in a very unconvincing tone of voice. "I'll pack my duds and be ready to leave when you are."
He walked over to the old house to visit Sam. His brother offered him a beer and Hollis accepted it. They sat in lawn chairs under a large weeping willow tree. Springtime at Fairhaven always made a deep impression on the psychiatrist. The fresh scent of the newly emerged flowerage struck a cord within him that no other living things could reach. Hollis drew a deep breath so as to enjoy the sweet aroma of life renewing itself.
"I was thinking of painting the place while you're gone," Sebastian interrupted his thoughts.
"That's nice of you. But it's completely unnecessary. We'll have Frank see to it."
"You've done enough for me already. I'd like to do something for you and Olivia."
"We appreciate it. But you'd help us if we hit a bump in the road."
"You've got that right," Sebastian replied. "I'll keep an eye on the garden for you. If the ghost reappears, I'll give her your apologies."
Doctor Simms gave his brother a strange look. Sebastian thought the expression on his face indicated jealously, as if Hollis believed that his brother was interested in a woman he loved. The doctor regained his usual continence before he spoke.
"I thought you didn't believe in Angie," Hollis said.
"I don't believe in ghosts, per say. But I will admit there's something strange going on here."

"Ain't nothing but a bugaboo," Frank said with a laugh as he walked up behind them. "My grandma always knew how to get rid of them. She'd mix some garlic and rotten apples in a pot. Then she'd heat it up over a big fire."
"That got rid of the ghosts?" Sebastian asked him.
"We never knew, because it sure as shit got rid of us. That stuff smelled something awful."
"Would you like a cocktail?" Sebastian asked.
"I'll take a rain check on that. I just wanted to ask Mr. ...I mean Hollis if he wanted me to weed the garden."
Hollis displayed the peculiar expression once more. Sebastian thought Franks' suggestion was a good one. A closer examination of the garden might reveal something important about the unusual visitor. He wondered if that was the explanation for Hollis' reaction.
"By all means, attend to it," the doctor finally said as he stood up. "I have some work to do, gentlemen. I'll see you later."
Hollis walked to the house.
They flew to the West Coast on a magnificently clear day. The plane passed over the state of Nebraska. Hollis saw a river flowing lazily across the plain and assumed it was the Platte. Simms wondered if the spirits of the Crawford Party were still continuing their journey across the new frontier. If so, his patient might be among them.
The hotel the three were staying in was not lacking in any of the most desirable amenities. Still Olivia managed to find fault with the robes provided; she felt they were too short for her liking. The other two members of the family had no complaints.

Annabelle emerged from her room a half-hour after they arrived and knocked on her parents' door.
"Daddy, what are you doing on the bed?" she asked after Olivia let her in.
"It's generally referred to as taking a nap." He then smiled without opening his eyes.
"We're supposed to be playing tennis," his daughter pointed out.
Hollis opened them and looked at her.
"You do seem to be dressed for the occasion," Hollis observed.
"And you are not," Olivia pointed out as she playfully struck him with a pillow. "I would imagine any attempt to postpone the game until tomorrow would be futile. Just remember that if I lose, it will be because of jet lag."
The two of them walked onto the sun-drenched courts and began their game. His daughter was a very competent player, returning his volleys in a manner that often left Hollis struggling to catch his breath. Her long pony tail swayed back and forth as Belle moved from side to side. Despite the doctor's labors he still managed to notice how his opponent attracted the stares of the young boys playing on the other courts. Belle was becoming a young woman. Like any father he was proud of his rapidly maturing daughter: yet at the same time Hollis felt a twinge of melancholy when he thought about her becoming an adult.
"I knew the fatigue from flying cross country would do me in," Hollis told her as they enjoyed a cool drink after the match.
"I took the same flight. It had nothing to do with it. I just waxed your tail," Annabelle corrected him with a self-satisfied grin.

"What do you think you'll do after high school?" Hollis, who had been meaning to broach that subject with Belle for some time, asked her.
"I don't know. Maybe I'll join the Peace Corp. Or I could do some volunteer work in Africa or someplace like that."
"You're not thinking of attending college? You should be considering all your options, sweetheart. You'll be graduating in two years."
"Yeah, I know. It's just that when I look around at the people who did all the right things I see a bunch of clones. It's nothing personal, Dad. But I want to find my own way, not someone else's."
"There's nothing wrong with that. But just don't do something different simply for the sake of being different. It would be worse than being a clone."
Hollis gave Annabelle a kiss on the forehead before she went back to her room. John Block joined him soon after.
"Welcome to San Diego," Block greeted him.
"Thank you, Doctor Block. This is a beautiful place."
"Don't let that distract you from your speech tomorrow," he warned while occupying the seat next to Hollis. "You had better be ready to match wits with Alec." "I may have an unfair advantage. If he begins to insist that human beings are no more than the sum of their biological processes, I'll be able to present some very compelling evidence to refute his claim."
"And what is this evidence?"
"Human beings do have a soul. I know, because I've met the spirit of a woman who lived over one hundred years ago."

John Block looked at his friend carefully. He took a long sip of his drink before speaking.
"Are you saying you've seen a ghost?"
"I've haven't just seen one, I've had some very long conversations with her." "Where and when did this happen?"
"I met her several months ago in the garden at Fairhaven. Her name is Angie
Barton. She lived in the eighteen hundreds, and wrote a diary that I found many years ago."
"So what's the punch line?" John asked him with a smile.
"If you mean is this some kind of joke, well, it isn't. I'm currently listening to her account of her experiences on the Oregon Trail. I think something traumatic happened to her there. Angie worked as a servant at Fairhaven after her journey, so she survived the trip west. But something must have changed her in a profound way during it, or she would have never become a domestic servant on Long Island. I'm hoping she'll tell me what it was. I'll probably write a paper about Angie when we've finished."
"Does she contact you regularly?" Block asked in a skeptical tone.
"I look out my window at the garden every night. There's a strange glow around Angie when she first appears. I can see it from my office. That's how I know she's there. You don't believe me, do you?"