We pulled chairs out from a plain wooden table reminiscent of ones I had sat at in parochial school when I was a girl in Miami. I suddenly remembered the wonder of what had awaited me on the pages of those books, for learning was what I loved, and any mental escape from home had been a blessing. Mrs. Edwards and I faced each other like friends, but the words were hard to say because it was rare I talked this frankly.
“I can’t go into much detail because my difficulty relates to a case I am working,” I began.
“I understand.” She nodded.
“But suffice it to say that I have become exposed to a satanic-type bible. Not devil worship, per se, but something evil.”
She did not react but continued to look me in the eye.
“And Lucy was, as well. My twenty-three-year-old niece. She also read this manuscript.”
“And you’re having problems as a result?” Mrs. Edwards asked.
I took a deep breath and felt foolish. “I know this sounds rather weird.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” she said. “We must never underestimate the power of evil, and we should avoid brushing up against it whenever we can.”
“I can’t always avoid that,” I said. “It is evil that usually brings my patients to my door.
But rarely do I have to look at documents like the one I’m talking about now. I’ve been having disturbing dreams, and my niece is acting erratically and has spent a lot of time with the Book. Mostly.
I’m worried about her. That’s why I’m here.”
. “But continue thou in the things which thou hast learned and hast been assured of,’ ”
she quoted to me. “It’s really that simple.” She smiled.
“I’m not certain I understand,” I replied.
“Dr. Scarpetta, there is no cure for what you’ve just shared with me. I can’t lay hands on you and push the darkness and bad dreams away. Father O’Connor can’t, either.
We have no ritual or ceremony that works. We can pray for you, and of course, we will. But what you and Lucy must do right now is return to your own faith. You need to do whatever it is that has given you strength in the past.”
“That’s why I came here today,” I said again.
“Good. Tell Lucy to return to the religious community and pray. She should come to church.”
That would be the day, I thought as I drove toward home, and my fears only intensified when I walked through my front door. It was not quite seven P.m. and Lucy was in bed.
“Are you asleep?” I sat next to her in the dark and placed my hand on her back.
“Lucy?”
She did not answer and I was grateful that our cars had not arrived. I was afraid she might have tried to drive back to Charlottesville. I was so afraid she was about to repeat every terrible mistake she had ever made.
“Lucy?” I said again.
She slowly rolled over. “What?” she said.
“I’m just checking on you,” I said in a hushed tone.
I saw her wipe her eyes and realized she was not asleep but crying.
“What is it?” I said.
“Nothing.”
“I know it’s something. And it’s time we talk. You’ve not been yourself and I want to help.”
She would not answer.
“Lucy, I will sit right here until you talk to me.”
She was quiet some more, and I could see her eye lids move as she stared up at the ceiling. “Janet told them,” she said. “She told her mom and dad. They argued with her, as if they know more about her feelings than she does.
As if somehow she is wrong about herself.”
Her voice was getting angrier and she worked her way up to a half-sitting position, stuffing pillows behind her back.
“They want her to go to counseling,” she added.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not sure I know what to say except that the problem lies with them and not with the two of YOU.”
“I don’t know what she’s going to do. It’s bad enough that we have to worry about the Bureau finding out.”