The Sound of Secrets. Irene Brand
wouldn’t tell our mother that he would kill her if she ever came to the house again!” Portia’s brown eyes, so like Rissa’s own, were full of pain.
“At this point, I’m willing to believe almost anything about our father.” Rissa took off the boots she’d worn for their hike and stretched out on the canopied twin bed.
Almost immediately a knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” Rissa invited.
Peg Henderson, Howard’s private nurse, peered around the half-opened door.
“Welcome home, Rissa,” she said, her sky-blue eyes brimming with friendliness. Peg had become a fixture in the Blanchard household since Ronald had hired her to take care of his father, who was suffering from Alzheimer’s.
Sitting up, Rissa said, “Seems like I’ve spent more time here the past few months than I’ve been in the city. I’m going to wear my welcome out.”
“I doubt that,” Peg said with a bright smile.
“How’s Grandfather?”
“He’s having a good afternoon. He saw you out on the lawn and asked to see you, so this might be a good time to visit. His lucid periods don’t come often or last very long.”
Rissa hadn’t been able to talk to her grandfather at all the last time she’d visited Stoneley, so she quickly slid off the bed and tucked her feet into her metallic leather slippers. “I’ll come right now.”
She chatted with Peg as they climbed the steps to her grandfather’s rooms on the third floor, wondering how the nurse could remain so serene and sweet-natured when she had to deal with Howard’s mood swings on a twenty-four-hour basis. Except for a few times when she temporarily left Howard in the care of Sonya Garcia, the longtime Blanchard housekeeper, Peg seemed content to stay with her patient. She did have a luxurious combination living-and-bedroom suite adjacent to Howard’s, because the Blanchard family did all they could to make her life pleasant.
When they reached her grandfather’s sitting room, Rissa summoned her nerve to go inside. In her most depressed moments, she had often wondered if she would someday be like her grandfather.
But Howard greeted her with a smile that was reminiscent of how she remembered him as a child. She rushed to his side and knelt beside him. If it hadn’t been for him and Aunt Winnie, Rissa would have grown up without any affection. There was never any doubt that Howard loved his granddaughters and that they were welcome in his home. If Winnie hadn’t intervened with gentle discipline, Howard would have spoiled all of them.
“I love you, Grandfather,” Rissa said hurriedly, for she wanted to take advantage of this lucid moment to let him know how much she appreciated what he had done for her. His trembling hand ruffled her long, curly black hair and moved slowly to her cheek.
“How’s my big-city girl?”
“Busy, as usual,” she answered. “The show is more popular than I’d ever hoped for. Tickets are sold out several months in advance, and I’m working on a new play.”
“You’ve got the Blanchard drive, girl. You’ll go a long way.”
“But I feel very weak sometimes. I could sure use your help making decisions.”
Peg cleared her throat, and when Rissa looked up, she shook her head. Perhaps Peg had sensed something she hadn’t, because suddenly Howard’s expression changed. Her grandfather was gone, and in his place was a senile old man whose eyes darted around the room. He stood up, and Peg was at 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