The Visitor(78)

But I wasn’t so certain. The pallor of his skin worried me and I couldn’t help noticing how badly his hand trembled as he poured our tea.

“Where’s your associate?” I asked as he handed me a cup. “He hasn’t already left for the cemetery, has he?”

“He had to return to Charleston on another matter and I’m not sure when or if he’ll be back. So I’m afraid neither of us will be able to accompany you this morning. However, I did hear from my friend about the braille inscription.”

“Oh?” I leaned in anxiously. “What does it say?”

“It’s from a seventeenth-century poem by Henry Vaughan. I’ll forward you the email, but in the meantime, take a look.” He opened up his tablet and handed the device across the table to me. “Vaughan was one of the metaphysical poets. Welsh, I believe.”

I read aloud from the screen:

“O calm and sacred bed, where lies

In death’s dark mysteries

A beauty far more bright

Than the noon’s cloudless light.”

“What do you think?” Dr. Shaw asked.

“‘A beauty far more bright than the noon’s cloudless light,’” I mused. A beauty far more bright. The line niggled, but I didn’t know why. I glanced up. “Other than the obvious death reference, I don’t have a clue. But the poem must have been important to Rose or she wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of hiding it in braille. I must say, I’m thoroughly intrigued by the inscription. And even more eager to visit her grave.”

Dr. Shaw took a tentative sip of his tea. “You’re not going out to the cemetery alone, I hope.”

“John is going with me, but you already knew he was here, didn’t you? Why did you call him?”

“After our conversation yesterday, I was concerned for your safety. I can hardly be blamed for that, can I? I’ve grown quite fond of you, my dear. You’re like a daughter to me. But if I’ve overstepped my bounds, I apologize.”

I was very touched by his acknowledgment and said so. “And please don’t apologize. I appreciate your concern. I’m glad to have John’s company. Although...” I stared down into my teacup for a moment. “Something happened after he arrived last night. There was an episode.”

A snowy brow lifted. “What kind of episode?”

“We both felt a presence in the cottage. And I could tell from John’s face that he actually saw something. He wouldn’t admit it, of course. He still won’t. He insists it was nothing more than a shadow.”

“But you know better.”

“I believe it was the entity from Rose’s sanctuary. I could smell the witch hazel it used to cover its stench. But the odd thing is, John smelled jasmine. That was his daughter’s favorite flower.”

“How did he explain the scent?”

“The bathroom window was open and Nelda grows jasmine in her garden.”

Dr. Shaw observed me through tired eyes. “That’s a reasonable explanation, isn’t it?”

“Not if you’d seen his face.” I set the cup aside, realizing my own hands had started to tremble. “You’ve known him far longer than I have. Why do you think he clings so rigidly to his disbelief? Why can’t he allow for even the slightest possibility that there are things in this world that can’t be explained? He hasn’t always been like that, surely. He would never have been involved with the Institute if he hadn’t at least been curious. It’s almost as if he experienced something terrifying in his past, something he may not even remember, and now he uses his denial as a means of protection.”

“I can’t answer those questions, Amelia. That is something for you and John to work out. But perhaps I’ve given you the wrong impression about his time at the Institute. Even back then he was a skeptic.”

“You once told me he was one of your best investigators.”

“Precisely because of his incredulity. I’m sure that trait also serves him well in his police work.” Dr. Shaw grew pensive. “I will say this, though. Losing a child can change you in ways you never could have imagined. In essence, the person you were dies, too, making it easy to turn your back on whatever beliefs you once held.”

I sat quietly riveted. I could never fully understand what he and Devlin had gone through, but at times their pain seemed tangible, as if I could reach out and pull the hollow ache of their loss into my own chest.

Dr. Shaw absently twisted his pinky ring, and for a moment I was mesmerized by the play of light on the emblem. It was the same symbol that Devlin wore around his neck. Dr. Shaw had never spoken of his affiliation with the mysterious Order of the Coffin and the Claw, but I had no doubt that both he and his son, Ethan, had been members.

“John was always a skeptic,” Dr. Shaw continued. “But he also had the kind of sensitivity I’ve rarely come across in my line of exploration.”

“Sensitivity to what?” I asked.

“People, places.” Dr. Shaw shrugged. “Perhaps what you witnessed last night was a reawakening of sorts. An unconscious prod by an intuition he long ago buried. But I would caution you about putting too much emphasis on that one incident or pushing him beyond his comfort zone. Whatever he experienced, he obviously needs time to process it.”