The Sound of Secrets. Irene Brand

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СКАЧАТЬ his side immediately, encouraging him to sit down.

      He clenched his teeth in anger and tried to push Peg aside, but she tenderly overpowered him and settled him in the chair again.

      “Where’s Ethel?” he shouted. He turned his tormented eyes toward Rissa. “Have you seen my wife?” he cried piteously.

      Her heart breaking over the torment he must be feeling, Rissa said softly, “No, Grandfather, I haven’t seen her today.”

      “I want her,” he cried. “Where’s Ethel?”

      His eyes, once so full of life and warmth, were devoid of any kind of expression.

      In a soft voice, Peg said, “I think you’d better go now.”

      But Rissa wasn’t ready to leave. She took her grandfather’s cold, trembling hand and looked around the room, wondering what she could do to encourage him. On a nearby table she was surprised to see the Bible Howard had once carried to church. On the same table was a tray holding a large number of prescription bottles. Rissa remembered that her psychiatrist had told her that the Word of God could be a good supplement to her medication. Maybe it would work with her grandfather.

      “I’d like to read to him from the Bible—maybe that will help calm him.”

      “It would be better if you’d leave now,” the nurse insisted.

      The nurse had the final authority on Howard’s care, but Rissa begged, “Please, Peg, let me read a few verses to him.”

      Reluctantly Peg agreed. “All right, but sometimes he becomes quite violent after he’s come to himself for a few minutes. I want to spare you that, but perhaps having you read to him will calm him.”

      Howard had had the reputation of being a cutthroat businessman and had been feared by many in the local community. Although he’d doted on his granddaughters, he’d been a hard man in dealing with others. But Aunt Winnie had told the sisters that Howard had once been an active member of the church and had never missed Sunday worship.

      His heart had seemed hardened against God as long as Rissa could remember, and she was concerned about her grandfather’s eternal security. Considering his age and physical condition, he could die anytime. It worried Rissa that her beloved grandfather might go into Eternity unprepared to meet God.

      She picked up the Bible, hardly knowing what to read, but she turned to the Psalms—a place where she often found comfort. But she must not choose anything to distress her grandfather. She glanced at Psalm Twenty-seven and decided that would be acceptable.

      Rissa sensed Peg’s displeasure and she prayed silently that what she was doing would penetrate that wall of spiritual indifference Howard had erected between himself and God. She had memorized favorite passages in this psalm as a part of her therapy, so she didn’t have to keep her eyes on the printed page all of the time. Her grandfather didn’t take his eyes off her face as she read, but his eyes were expressionless.

      “‘The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?…One thing have I desired of the Lord, that will I seek after; that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to behold the beauty of the Lord, and to enquire in His temple. For in the time of trouble He shall hide me in His pavilion: in the secret of His tabernacle shall He hide me; He shall set me upon a rock.’”

      Rissa had no idea whether her words had penetrated the solid wall that blocked Howard’s mind. She laid the Bible back on the table then leaned forward to kiss her grandfather’s cheek. He lifted his hand and his feeble fingers caressed her cheek.

      “Ethel,” he murmured, and Rissa lifted startled eyes toward Peg, baffled by the amazement in the caregiver’s eyes.

      “Does he often mention my grandmother?” Rissa whispered as she moved away from Howard’s chair.

      “Once in a while he does.” The nurse laid her hand on Rissa’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. “It was good of you to read to your grandfather.”

      “Thank you for giving him such good care. Let me know when he feels like having me visit again.”

      “Yes, I will, but it doesn’t happen very often.”

      Before she went to her own room, Rissa stopped before the large portrait of Ethel Blanchard hanging at the end of the second-floor hall. She had been a petite woman, as Rissa was. But her grandmother’s hair had been red and her eyes hazel, unlike Rissa’s dark eyes and hair. The twins looked like their father, something Rissa had often resented because Ronald had so little affection for them. But she was pleased that something had caused Howard to see a resemblance of his wife in her today.

      At dinner, Rissa related her brief visit with her grandfather to Winnie, Portia and Miranda. Ronald had refused to dine with the rest of the family and ate his meal alone in his office.

      When she mentioned that Howard had called her Ethel, Winnie exclaimed, “I’ve always thought you favored my mother—not so much in looks but in disposition.”

      “Does that include me, too?” Portia asked.

      “No, the few traits that you and Rissa don’t share are the ways I could tell you apart when you were little.” Winnie laughed slightly. “I’m sorry, Rissa, but some of them are negative qualities.”

      “Such as?”

      “The way you frown too much, like you’re doing now, or how you’re often impatient. And you’ve always been easily distracted and more melancholy than your sisters.”

      Rissa closed her eyes, confused by this unexpected assessment from her aunt. Winnie should have added that Rissa didn’t take criticism well, either, because her aunt’s words had cut like a knife.

      Perhaps Winnie feared she had upset Rissa, because she gave her a hug. “But don’t let that bother you. It’s the endearing qualities that I notice most. The tenderness and love you have for your sisters, especially Portia. Your determination to follow a project through to completion no matter how difficult it is. The gentle ripple of your laughter when you’re truly happy.”

      “Enough, Aunt Winnie,” Miranda cried. “You’ll swell her head. She already has an overabundance of pride.”

      Rissa joined in the general laughter, determined not to be offended by Winnie’s negative words. Obviously the family didn’t know that her inner self was often at war with the calm, confident exterior she displayed to others. How long could she keep her depression diagnosis from her family?

      After her long drive the previous night and the traumatic events that had greeted her, Rissa thought she would go to sleep as soon as she got in bed, but her mind was too active. Shivering from the cool breeze wafting into the room from the bay, Rissa got out of bed and closed the window. A flicker of lightning and a rumble of thunder alerted her to the approaching storm. She hurried back to bed and covered her head, aware that Portia was already asleep, breathing deeply.

      Rissa had always been afraid during thunderstorms. When she was a child, she’d often run to Portia’s bed when bad weather had hit. By sheer self-will she had stopped doing that when she was a teenager. But the fear remained. That was one of the reasons she had gladly changed the coast of Maine for the asphalt jungle of New York.

      She СКАЧАТЬ