Carolyn Jourdan - Nurse Phoebe 02 - The School for Mysteries (8 page)

Chapter  16

Blissfully unaware of Charlie’s automotive sacrifice, Phoebe sped away through the night. She looked in the rear view mirror every few minutes to make sure Nick was still back there and still sleeping soundly.

Dawn had broken by the time she made it to the crest of the Great Smoky Mountains. This was the boundary between Tennessee and North Carolina. The highest part of the Appalachian Trail ran along this same ridge on a trail that was so narrow a hiker’s left foot would be in one state and their right foot in another.

It had been such a shock when the call about the new job came, Phoebe had transcribed the directions without really taking them in. Since then she’d been busy. She hadn’t really had the opportunity to think much about where she was headed, or consider the route she’d be taking to get there.

The novelty hit her when she turned onto the six-mile long
Road to Nowhere,
as it was referred to by the locals. In the directions, Ms. Arabella Devlin-Forrest had referred to it by a state road number that Phoebe hadn’t recognized. Now she knew why. She’d never been there before. Why would she have been? The road was a famous dead end.

Now that she realized where she was, she recalled that the original plan for the road was that it would skirt the edge of Fontana Lake and give people on the North Carolina side of the mountain access to family graveyards that were inside the boundaries claimed by the National Park in the 1930’s.

The Great Smoky Mountains National Park differed from the other major national parks in two significant ways. First, it was the most popular park in the nation by a long shot. It got two to three times as many visitors as the Grand Canyon or Yellowstone or Yosemite. And second, it had been created on private property by ejecting the local families from their homes.

Hard feelings still abounded. People were forced out and watched helplessly as their homes were bulldozed or allowed to fall into ruin, and access to family graveyards was restricted. It wasn’t like this was ancient history either. Plenty of people were still alive who’d been born and raised on beautiful mountain farms that the U.S. government had taken from them by force.

But the cost of building a road across such a remote mountainous wilderness for access to the North Carolina graveyards was incredibly expensive and had gradually been halted. That meant people had to travel across Fontana Lake by boat to reach them on Decoration Day.

Phoebe knew the
Road to Nowhere
ended in a quarter-mile long oddity called the
Tunnel to Nowhere
. When she read the portion of the directions that concerned the tunnel, Phoebe thought,
how could that be right
? The incredibly expensive tunnel had been completed just before the road construction was abandoned, and as far as Phoebe knew, there was no road on the other side of it. Thus, its nickname.

The mountains in this area made cell phone service extremely spotty, to say the least. So before she lost all possibility of contact with civilization Phoebe stopped and called Waneeta again to let her know she was alright. Then she asked for news from the café.

“They’s no new bodies showed up, if that’s what you mean,” Waneeta said. “Leon and Ivy are fine and they said to tell you they brought your Jeep back and hid it in Leon’s barn. The key’s in it, if you need it.”

Phoebe gave Wanteeta, and thereby the entire community of White Oak, an update on her activities, her patient, and her near term plans. She knew her escapades would provide much good-natured entertainment for her friends and neighbors.

She hung up, relieved of her worries about her friends. She needed to be able to concentrate if she was going to successfully navigate this mysterious segment of her commute. The directions made no sense. She read them aloud to herself,
Turn right after passing through the tunnel
.

The tunnel was a well-known landmark to hikers, but no one ever drove into it because it was dark, spooky, and a dead-end. At least it was supposed to be. Phoebe sat facing the black hole with her high beams illuminating the curved mossy ceiling and walls. She couldn’t see any obstacles but neither could she see any light in the distance. That was ominous, but she gamely began to move into the darkness, rolling slowly along the pavement. There were leaves scattered on the ground, but otherwise the surface was in surprisingly good condition.

Phoebe crept along in Leon’s ancient little truck, farther and farther into the gloom until she knew she had to be nearing the end of the tunnel. Then she stopped when her headlights illuminated what appeared to be a solid wall of moss-covered concrete in front of her. A moment later she felt something give underneath her.

She opened the driver’s side door and looked down. She could see that she was sitting on a segment of pavement that was about twenty feet long and separated from the rest of the road by a thin crack at both ends. It was like a truck scale, but concealed.

There was a low grinding noise and the wall in front of her started to move. A second later, there was light at the end of the tunnel.

Abracadabra
, she whispered, in awed tones. She couldn’t think of anything else to say. The magnitude of this deception stunned her. The level of power, privacy, and security represented by a secret entrance like this was beyond anything she’d ever heard of.

The world was being turned on its head,
again
, for the second time in two days. What the heck was going on? And what had she done to be drawn into the vortex?

Phoebe had no idea who she was on her way to see. It wasn’t unusual for a rural home health care nurse to be dispatched to care for a stranger. The nurses went wherever they were called. Phoebe’s previous work had covered a large, highly dispersed, rural community. But it was odd to not have been given the patient’s name. She’d been so happy to get a job, it hadn’t occurred to her to question it. She’d blithely assumed she was going to see an eccentric musician, but now she doubted if that was sufficient to explain the tunnel gambit unless it was Elvis.

She came out into bright sunshine on the other side of the high ridge. She rolled carefully along the last remaining bit of paved road that became a manicured pea gravel lane that led up a slight hill. When she topped the rise she was presented with a glorious view. A vast, endless hardwood forest stretched before her, covering the undulations of countless green ridges that, in the distance, disappeared into the world famous blue haze.

Trees and sky as far as the eye could see. Nothing made by the hand of man disrupted the landscape. That was an increasingly unusual phenomenon these days. Unspoiled panoramas were already nearly nonexistent on the Tennessee side, and now were becoming rare on the North Carolina side, which had historically been protected from overdevelopment by having far fewer roads through the areas adjacent to the Park.

Two miles to the house
, said her scribbled notes. Phoebe continued until the road came to another apparent dead end. She sat in the little truck, not moving. She was facing a pile of boulders at point blank range. They were poised on the edge of a bluff with a tumble of fractured rock typical of the area. Beyond the boulders, the ground fell away for hundreds of feet in a sheer rock face.

She opened her door and got out.

Chapter  17

Phoebe stood quietly next to the truck, looking around, enjoying the soft breeze and the splendid view. Then she checked Nick. His breathing and pulse were excellent. His skin was a nice healthy pink except for the left side of his face where he was developing a colorful black eye. He seemed to be recovering nicely. She knew this deep, drugged-induced sleep would be healing for him after all the stress he’d experienced.

She thought about untying him, but remembered how her ranger friend Henry always held wild critters down until he was certain they were wide awake so they couldn’t accidentally wander into a road or a river or fall off a cliff on account of being woozy.

With a cliff this close, Phoebe didn’t dare untie Nick. She tugged a corner of one of the blankets loose, though, and rearranged it, draping it over a tie-down so it would keep the sun off his face.

She walked toward the edge of the cliff, along the row of boulders, and called out, “Hello!”

When no one responded, she took a few paces toward a particularly large rock, and then went around the side of it. There was a large natural crevice between two of the massive stones that was wide enough to walk through.

When she stepped through the gap she found herself in an open area filled with immaculately maintained gardens. On the other side of the garden was a house, or at least what she presumed was a house. It was built right into the jagged rocks at the edge of the cliff.

As she made her way along a neat path through the garden toward what looked like it might be the front door, she noticed the landscaping was mostly edible. It was vegetables mixed with herbs and flowers, but it was so artfully done, it was even more appealing to Phoebe, who’d been raised on a farm, than a purely decorative grouping of non-native flowers planted for curb appeal.

The stacked stone and boulder walls that enclosed the garden were faced with trellises that supported espaliered fruit trees, vines, and various types of running and climbing plants. Near the front door was a large expanse of vertical garden mounted on a metal grid. Phoebe smiled to see several varieties of salad greens sprouting at eye level.

A row of beehives stood along one side of the garden. The stacks of wooden boxes were painted in a charming hodgepodge of pale blues and pinks. Each hive had a name painted in large ornate letters on the topmost box—Uriel, Raphael, Gabriel, Samael, and Oriphiel.

There was a large ornate metal knocker in the shape of a winged angel mounted on an ancient-looking gothic-shaped wooden door. Phoebe used it to tap twice and then she waited. After a couple of minutes a woman near her own age opened the door and said, “Ms. McFarland, I am Arabella Devlin-Forrest, please forgive me for not meeting you outside and escorting you in, but I was engaged on a telephone call.”

The woman wore an immaculate coatdress that looked like one of designs Catherine Walker made especially for the royal family. And she spoke with the same upper class English accent Phoebe remembered hearing on the phone. “If you will come this way, please. I will take you to your patient.”

Phoebe reminded herself to do her best to speak Standard English to these people. They obviously were not local. She followed Arabella down a short flight of wide shallow stone stairs into the house, expecting to enter a cave-like space, but it was quite the opposite. The far wall of the house was all glass, giving a view across the mountains like something she thought eagles might have. The floor was concrete that had been ground and polished until it shone like a mirror. It was reflecting the light from skylights, creating a mirage so that the large expanse stretching out before them was shimmering like the surface of a lake.

The house was built atop, within, and around boulders—and the natural rock had been left exposed. As they walked, Phoebe saw that the house was lit not only by skylights and a glass wall, but also occasionally from the side by windows with eccentric shapes made to fit the natural crevices.

She stole quick glances into the rooms they passed as Arabella escorted her through the house. A small creek ran through the center of what looked like a living area, and she heard and then saw a natural waterfall at the far end of a hall.

The house was quiet except for the sound of water. It had a soothing effect on her frazzled nerves.

Chapter  18

“I don’t know my patient’s name,” Phoebe said.

Arabella hesitated a moment and then said, “You may address him as
Le Seigneur
.” She pronounced his title in French to sound like
sane-yeur
.

“Like
senior
?” Phoebe asked.

“If you are enquiring about the etymology of the word, yes, the roots are the same. If you are enquiring about the modern meaning,
Le Seigneur
is a French honorific that means
Lord
.”

“
Lord
?”
Phoebe repeated, flabbergasted. She couldn’t help herself but her first thought was,
Oh Lord, what have I gotten myself into?
Fortunately she was able to keep her reflexive outburst to herself.

The people of the Smoky Mountains were possibly the least hierarchical ethnic group on the face of the earth. Respect had to be earned. Their natural hyper-politeness and tendency to be amused would instantly leap to its polar opposite, insolence, when presented with anyone they deemed to be affecting airs.

“I don’t think I can call him that with a straight face,” Phoebe said.

She followed Arabella into the room and saw an elderly man lying in bed. He’d obviously heard their exchange because he gave her a gentle smile and said, “My name is
É
tienne.”

Phoebe smiled back at him, and tilted her head to try to work out what he’d said. Whatever he’d said, it was pronounced with a honking sound she’d have to work on.

“In English it is rendered as
Steve
.” He spoke with a strong French accent.

Phoebe looked at the room and at her patient and decided it wouldn’t be right to call him Steve. Her patient’s room was light, and airy, but as stark as a monk’s cell. It contained a bed, a nightstand, and a single chair, all made of scrubbed pine that glowed with the warm golden patina of beeswax polish and age.

She guessed the man was in his seventies. “Please have a seat,” he said. “Thank you so much for coming.”

Books and papers lay all around him atop the covers.

“I’m still adjusting to the new technology,” he said, flourishing a pencil in his right hand. “I am learning to dictate to voice recognition. It works almost perfectly, but I find myself unable to compose text unless I’m holding a pencil.”

They both laughed.

“I hope it wasn’t too difficult finding us.” He had an angelic smile.

Phoebe shook her head, deciding not to make any comment on the extraordinary features of his driveway. She was suddenly too shy to meet his dark-eyed gaze, so she cast her eyes around the room.

The only decoration was an exquisite miniature that sat on a small easel atop his bedside table. It was a painting of a knight in armor facing a dragon. Phoebe guessed it must be either St. George or St. Michael, but she didn’t know how to tell the difference. It depicted a charming scene where the two opposing figures seemed to be having a chat rather than a battle.

“That’s lovely,” Phoebe said. “I’ve never seen one like that. The knight and the dragon seem to be friends.”

“There’s no point at being angry at the Devil,” he said. “The Devil is only doing his job.” He gave her another sweet smile, then added, “But, of course it’s our responsibility to see him for what he is and not join in on the wrong side of things.”

“Is this St. Michael or St. George?”

“It is St. Michael, the archangel. He is the greatest spiritual being of his rank, the chief of the angels and the archangels. I am glad you notice the tone of the image. Only the relatively newer versions depict any aggression between the angel and the dragon. The oldest pictures show Michael not even looking at the dragon. He stands with his face raised to heaven, averting his eyes from the distractions of evil.

“It is like the famous quote that no problem can ever be solved with thinking that occurs on the same level where the problem was created. Problems can only be solved with higher thinking
. In the Bible, in Jude, the Archangel Michael speaks to the Devil, but he is careful in how he does it. He says,
The Lord rebuke thee
. He says this because it is not man’s task to rebuke the devil, but God’s.

“St. George comes on the scene much later. He is the one you almost always see fighting. That’s because he is a man rather than an angel. He is a human trying to overcome evil. This task is more difficult, more confusing, for a human than it is for an angel. Angels don’t have free will.”

Phoebe saw that her patient’s face was creased and lined. Careworn or disease-worn, she didn’t yet know. She might’ve been wrong about her initial guess at his age. Now that she was closer, and as the clouds shifted overhead so the light coming in through the skylight changed and played across his face, something about his face made her think he might just as easily be much older.

Phoebe was going to ask him about his condition and what she could do for him, but before she could speak, a beautiful young woman appeared in the doorway wearing a white cotton nun’s habit with blue stripes along the border, like the one Mother Teresa had worn. She didn’t say anything but she and
Le Seigneur
exchanged a look of concern.

He turned to Phoebe and said, “We would like to bring your friend inside, if you do not mind.”

Phoebe was shocked and embarrassed that they’d managed to discover Nick, and so quickly, too. “I’m
so sorry
,” she said, mortified. “I know this is highly irregular, but it was an emergency. I hope you’ll forgive me for bringing somebody along, especially on my first day, but there was nowhere else for him to go.”

“Please do not worry,” he said. “Tell me about him.”

Phoebe gave her patient a highly sanitized and extremely brief version of Nick’s backstory. She said she’d found him after he’d had a bad fall in the forest and he didn’t have any insurance.
Le Seigneur
listened attentively, with emotions playing across his expressive face.

When Phoebe finished, he said, “I understand,” and made a quick nod toward the nun. He indicated with a graceful gesture that Phoebe should go with her.

Just before they went out the front door, Phoebe laid a hand on the nun’s arm and said, “You’d better let me go get him by myself. He’s been through a lot recently and he might be frightened by a stranger.”

The nun made a small bow and remained in the foyer while Phoebe went outside. When she cleared the boulders and crunched across the pea gravel toward the truck, she saw that the mummy was getting restless. He was kicking against his shroud.

Phoebe leaned over the bed of the truck and released the tie-downs. Nick was still wrapped in the soft blue hospital blankets that were bungeed around him in three different places. It was a struggle not to laugh at his appearance, but Phoebe was a pro, so she maintained a poker face.

Nick sat up and gave her a dirty look. “Are we there yet?” he asked, sarcastically.