Maelstrom

By Debbie Boek

How much injustice must one endure before being able to disregard their own actions, regardless of how heinous they may be?

In the last decade of the 19th century, young Olivia Rose is unjustly committed to a lunatic asylum and only her desire for revenge sees her through until she can escape.

Traveling through upstate New York, Olivia Rose plots to bring justice to those that harmed her and the ones that she loves, setting the stage, creating her plans and reeling in others to help her put them into motion.

It isn't until one of her victims turns the tables and retaliates that Olivia Rose learns the true cost of her desire for retribution.

With a dark heart and blunted emotions, Olivia Rose must decide how much she is willing to risk in order to punish those that took everything from her. Will she put an end to her quest or disregard the danger and learn too late that the price of vengeance is simply too high?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wolf Rider Publishing
• Release date: Dec 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9781734248296

Debbie Boek

Debbie Boek is an independent author who lives in upstate New York. She has published three books in the Devereaux Chronicles series, Devil’s Bait, Devil’s Retribution and Devil’s Gathering. They are supernatural thrillers with different spirits or cryptids in each story, ghosts, demons, witches, and even Bigfoot come to visit. She has also published three historical romance novels, Sommers’ Folly, If Not For The Knight and When The Knight Falls. Although her original passion was for historical romances, horror in general, and ghost stories more specifically, are her favorite, which is how the Devereaux Chronicles series came to be. Even though she has a great deal of fun writing the Devereaux Chronicles, she does periodically have to return to her roots to research and write another historical romance novel.

Book preview

PART 1 THE LUNATIC ASYLUM

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Upstate New York 1961

I could feel my heartbeat increase exponentially as hellish and long-forgotten memories forced their way into my mind.

My footsteps faltered as I approached nearer to the old, abandoned asylum, and I had to remind myself that this horrid place could no longer hold me captive, nor hurt me in the ways that it had all those decades ago.

It was this place, this abhorrent edifice rising in front of me, that created the deep fissures within my heart and my mind, cleaving the goodness from my soul and leaving only emptiness and pain behind.

It was officially called the Northern New York Insane Asylum, but was generally referred to as The Asylum, a simple, innocuous name that belied the torturous conditions that existed behind those solid brick walls.

The sun was high in the sky this late summer afternoon, but even those warm rays could not chase away the goosebumps that rose or the shivers that crawled over my skin as I stared at the dark, vacant building.

Graffiti had been scrawled on some of the outer portions of the walls and many of the windows were boarded up, particularly on the lower levels which were easily accessible by vandals and their projectiles.

Moving hesitantly, I lifted my foot onto the first step that would take me up towards the large red doors that led into the cavernous building, and I shuddered once again as my memories continued to flood back.

I’d only taken these steps once before and I could feel the same fear that had threatened to overcome me then. My mother had been with me and held my hand tightly in her own, she put a brave smile on her face as she tried to reassure me but, even at just twelve years old, I was able to recognize the terror that filled her eyes.

And she was right to feel that terror, because our lives changed forever that day when we were forced into The Asylum through those oversized red doors.

I shook that memory from my mind and continued slowly up the wide, stone staircase, breathing heavily, possibly from such an exertion at my advanced age, but I suspected it was more that my mind was trying to fight back panic at the thought of what lie on the other side of those doors. 

With a shaky hand I reached out toward the brass handle, but it was securely locked and would not budge. I blew out a long sigh of relief because I was not sure that I would have the courage to enter the building again, and now I would not have to have the confirmation of my own cowardice.

I knew those vacant halls would be filled with the ghosts of those who’d never left this place, including my own mother. I would have valued the opportunity to finally be able to say good-bye and lay her to rest, at least within my own mind, but The Asylum always kept its victims close to its bosom and would not easily relinquish them, not even at this late date.

I placed my hand flat against the faded red door and closed my eyes, imagining my mother as she was before we came to this place, and once again I felt reassured by the smile on her face and the love in her eyes.

Good-bye, Mother, I hope your soul has somehow been able to find peace.   

I slowly made my way down the steps and moved far enough away from that aberrant building that I could see the entire face of it. The main building that I was standing in front of had the same four-story floor plan and design as the others that staggered out behind it on either side. The buildings on the left for the women and the buildings on the right for the men.

I stepped even further back until I could see the entire front of the first building off to the left. All of the windows were covered with bars and dark shadows floated behind those that had not yet been blocked off by planks of wood.

As my gaze roamed back and forth across those windows, I was sure that I could see the faces of some of those that I’d left behind. Although I desperately hoped that I was just being fanciful and that they hadn’t been left here to haunt this place for all these years.

A wave of sadness washed over me so deeply that it almost brought me to my knees as the memories continued to flood into my mind.

I held tight to the cane in my hand and leaned heavily upon it, fighting to keep my feet under me as I realized that, perhaps, this idea of mine to revisit the past truly was ill-advised, as I had been warned.

But my resolve hardened when I once again stared at that brick monstrosity in front of me and, this time, I welcomed the memories that blossomed in my mind. For I will not let this life end without reflecting on the times, the people, and the places, that have made me into what I am.

I have been able to bury the hurt, the sadness and the regret deep inside of me, but I’m beginning to feel it oozing out in bits and pieces.

I can’t change what has happened, but I have never been afraid to take on any foe, and so I must also face the demons from my past head on. I will embrace what has happened to me, as well as the atrocities that I, myself, have committed, even if it kills me in the process.

Which is why I am here today at The Asylum, where I first lost who I was. Or perhaps a more accurate representation would be that my soul was stolen in this place, and I was left an empty, broken shell that had to pick up the pieces and rebuild my life as best I could with what was left.

Here is that portion of my story. I’m not asking you to judge me, or any of the others involved. Just pay heed and never let such a thing happen again.

CHAPTER 1

Syracuse, New York 1893

The warm, midsummer day started much the same as every other, but the irresponsible actions taken by a few on this particular day, would cause dire consequences well into the future. Like dominoes toppling one against the next, the lives of many would become filled with sorrow and despair, irreparably damaged in ways no one could ever have foreseen.

Hurry along now, Olivia Rose, Ada Finster said briskly, placing one hand on her head to keep her hat in place, while the other lifted her skirt slightly as she hastened down the wooden sidewalk. We will be late and have no time to dawdle.

Olivia was almost thirteen years old and nearly as tall as her mother already, so she had no trouble matching her hurried strides. Her father, Bram Finster, had dropped the two of them off and they only had a few moments before the horse-drawn streetcar would arrive to carry them into the city.

Bram did not even wait to ensure they caught the streetcar but turned the horse and slapped the reins roughly against its bony back, urging it to hurry so that he could return to his farm and the work waiting for him there.

All of the farmers in the area had been hit hard during the depression of 1873. His father had managed to keep the farm afloat since then, but had turned it over to Bram, his youngest son, shortly before he died almost a decade earlier.

Bram did not have the instincts about crops and livestock that his father had and, each year since his death, the farm earned less and less money until, finally, Ada had been forced to find a job to prevent them from becoming completely destitute.

She was fortunate enough to find a housekeeping position in one of the finer homes just north of the city and the streetcar had dropped them off a short distance from that house.

But why do I have to come with you today? I was supposed to go to the swimming hole with Stephanie and Josh.

We don’t always get to do what we would like, her mother replied shortly. Your father is in a mood today and I think it best you be out of his hair until he’s over his huff.

Olivia’s lips were twisted in a grimace and she slid her violet eyes sideways at her mother. He’s always in a huff and I could have managed to stay out of his way. I always get the little end of the horn and now I’ll have to help you clean and miss the swimming party.

Yes, you will, and I’ll have no more of your caterwauling once we get the Buchanan’s estate. Do you hear me?

I hear you, Olivia replied quietly, knowing there was no reasoning with her mother at this point.

We should have the place to ourselves so we can get the work done quickly. Mrs. Buchanan and the children are off on their holiday for a couple of weeks and Mr. Buchanan will be at his office in the city.

They hurried down the drive and Olivia, as always, couldn’t help but stare up at the imposing mansion, her eyes wide with envy.

Someday, Mother, I will hire women to come help clean my house, which will be bigger and even more grand than this one.

Ada came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the wide drive and turned towards her with a look of such hope and pride, that Olivia was momentarily taken aback. 

Ada raised her hand and gently ran her fingers over her daughter’s thick, black hair, smoothing some of the errant strands that had escaped from her braids. Please God that you do. You must see the elephant, my love.

What does that mean? Olivia asked, meeting her mother’s pale blue eyes and noticing for the first time that there were streaks of gray now running through her dark brown hair.

It means that you must see it all, experience everything you possibly can, live life and never settle for less than you deserve. Promise me that you will do that.

I promise, Olivia replied. Her mother had always championed her whenever she doubted herself, but today Ada’s words gave Olivia a chill and she could not find the reason for her unease.

The day passed quickly. Ada did her usual cleaning chores and had Olivia re-wick the kerosene lamps. That particular job only had to be done periodically, but it was tedious and there were so many lamps throughout the house that Olivia thought she might never finish.

She was working her way through the bedrooms on the second floor when she heard a strange sound. Olivia turned towards the open doorway, her face flushing and her eyes blinking rapidly. When no one appeared, Olivia hastily returned Winnie Buchanan’s pearl handled mirror to the top of her dresser.  

Whenever Olivia could get away with it without being caught, she spent time in Winnie’s room, marveling at both the abundance and the quality of her clothing, jewelry and even her toys.

She heard the noise again and this time realized that it sounded like a woman’s muffled scream. Olivia hurried out into the hallway and paused, then the scream came again and she recognized the voice as her mother’s.

Her heart began to race as her fear grew, making Olivia so light-headed that she worried that she might faint. Spinning around futilely in the wide hallway, she tried to determine which of the closed doors hid her mother.

Olivia ran to the nearest one and leaned her ear against the thick wood but there was no sound from the other side. Hurrying further down the hall, she did the same and this time she could hear the sound of some fragile object, perhaps made of glass or china, shattering loudly as it struck against something solid.

Olivia burst through the doorway and the two occupants froze in place. She looked around the room trying to make sense of what she had walked in on.

It was Mrs. Buchanan’s bedroom, a large room, filled with bulky oak furniture, some of which had been overturned and lay willy-nilly on the thick carpet. A large four poster bed was directly ahead, her mother was on one side of it and Mr. Buchanan on the other.

Mrs. Buchanan had given birth to their second son recently and his cradle, which was normally at the end of the bed, was lying on its side near the door. There were also broken pieces of china scattered on the carpet around Mr. Buchanan’s feet.

Ada had a large red welt on her face and her left eye was almost swollen shut. She was desperately grabbing at the top of her blouse, trying to hold it in place despite the rending tear down the front of it, as if someone had grabbed the neckline and pulled it away from her body.

Her right hand held a ceramic cat and her arm was bent backward, as if she intended to heave it across the bed at Mr. Buchanan.

Olivia turned in his direction and saw a hunger in his eyes, a madness that she could not understand. Buchanan was not aware that she was also in the house and his anger, which had begun to grow when Ada resisted his initial overtures, exploded when he realized that his lewd behavior had been witnessed.

Olivia became even more frightened by the look on his heavy face, which was now a mottled red. He narrowed his brown eyes and took a step towards her.

No, Mr. Buchanan, please.

Ada could see the look on his face and that his hand was snaking down to remove the belt from his trousers. She ran across the room and stood between Olivia and her employer.

Her voice was shaking, but under no circumstances would Ada allow him to hurt her daughter. Please, let us go now. Neither of us will ever say a word about anything that has transpired here today.

He lifted his dark eyes to meet hers, his lip was raised in a sneer, taking that side of his muttonchop whiskers along with it, but his voice was eerily calm when he responded.

Whatever are you talking about, Mrs. Finster? I simply left the office early and sent you on your way home when I arrived at the house. His eyes slid over to the young girl who was standing slightly behind her mother. Isn’t that right? 

Olivia was confused, she truly had no idea what had been happening in this room, but she could see the fear on her mother’s face as Ada turned toward her and gave a slight nod of her head.   

Of course, it is, Olivia replied, knowing it was a lie, but that it was a necessary lie, or her mother would never have allowed her to say it.

Good, get out of my house, both of you. They turned towards the door, but Ada stopped in place when he continued in a cold and detached tone of voice.

I will be sure to get this week’s salary to you, Mrs. Finster, and I will explain that you have found other employment when next I speak with my wife.

Ada did not respond, just took Olivia’s arm and hurried down the hallway, dragging her towards the kitchen where she’d left her handbag and coat.

The staff was on furlough while most of the family was away, all except the cook. She turned towards Ada and there was a knowing look in her eyes as she wiped her hands on the frilly white apron which barely made its way around her ample girth.

Are you alright, dear?

I’m fine, Frieda, thank you. I will be leaving early, so I wish you a good-day.

Ada was afraid that she might start crying if she said anything further, so she hurriedly donned her jacket and, even though the sun was high in the summer sky, she buttoned it all the way to the top, hoping the tattered ruins of her shirtwaist wouldn’t show.  

There was a sadness in Frieda’s eyes as she watched the two of them leave. She had no misconceptions about her employer and his occasional salacious behavior, but she needed her job and the money it paid, so she would keep her thoughts to herself and speak of it to no one.

Ada and Olivia were almost back to the streetcar station before either of them spoke.

By then, Olivia could no longer hold her tongue and said, Mother, please, talk to me.

Ada stopped short and turned towards Olivia, grabbing her tightly by both arms.

You’re hurting me.

Olivia, I would not ask this of you if I didn’t have to, but you must never speak of what you saw today. Please, promise me, no matter what.

What’s wrong? What did he do?

Nothing that you need know anything more about. It was simply an error of judgment which happens to men on occasion. No harm was caused so we will not bother your father about it. Do you understand?

Yes.

Good, do not worry overmuch, as I said, no harm came to me.

Alright, Mother, Olivia replied, but how will you explain your torn shirt and why we are home so early?

Once again, her mother ran her fingers softly along Olivia’s cheek. Your father and brothers should still be in the fields and they need be none the wiser about what transpired today. Come, let’s get home quickly.

Olivia could barely contain the sense of dread threatening to overwhelm her. Even if her father didn’t know about the torn clothing, there was no way he would be blind to the swelling and bruises on her mother’s face.

This would not end so benignly as her mother would like her to think. Of that, Olivia was quite sure. 

––––––––

Grover Buchanan was pacing in front of the desk in his study, puffing heavily on a thick cigar, grinding the ashes into the intricate designs of the oriental carpet as they fell unnoticed at his feet.

Well, it’s about time, he growled, when John Wilson finally walked into the study a short time later. John was not so much a friend or companion, but more of a highly paid Man Friday. A leg-breaker who handled the more unsavory details so that Buchanan could keep his own hands clean.

What’s the problem? I thought you were leaving to meet your wife in Saratoga, John said, removing his hat and proudly displaying his completely bald pate.

His beard and mustache were well-groomed and he had no sideburns, leaving most of his face bare. His thick brows were drawn together and his eyes were piercing, making him look, as always, rather fearsome.

The races don’t start until Saturday, and I have no desire to arrive early and join Ophelia in her hydrotherapy.

Her what?

The mineral springs have therapeutic properties. They are especially known for women’s peculiar complaints, of which my dear wife has many, even more so since giving birth to Edward.

Grover walked over to the mahogany sideboard and lifted the top from a decanter of amber liquid. Pouring a healthy draught for himself, he then filled a second crystal glass and handed it to John.

Have a seat, Grover said, waving towards a vacant leather wing chair before sliding behind the oversized desk and making himself comfortable.

We have a problem, a potentially bad problem. Grover was a stocky man of middle height, there was a heavy part down the center of his short brown hair, and he had thick, bushy, muttonchop whiskers which he took great pride in.

Always the poseur, Grover wore a smoking jacket made of the most expensive black velvet available over a white silk shirt and green puff tie. 

Wilson had no respect for his employer’s showmanship, but kept his tone deferential when he asked, What do you need me to do?

John had an intensity about him that most people found unnerving, but that Grover understood and took advantage of. He knew that he could count on the man to handle any situation, regardless of how distasteful it might be.

When I arrived home today, I found my cleaning woman upstairs in the bedroom. She’s a very attractive woman and it’s been some time since Ophelia and I have had carnal relations.

Both men had dark brown eyes and they met with a look of complete understanding.

Do you need her taken care of?

The situation never actually came to fruition.

John frowned in confusion. Then, what is the problem?

I did attempt to have my way with her and knocked her around a little when she refused my advances.

Was she hurt badly?

No, just banged up.

Will her husband be a problem?

Unlikely, he’s not worth a fart in a whirlwind.

Not well off then?

He’s poor enough to send his wife out to work on his behalf, so you should be able to buy him off easily enough.

Shall I see to it?

I think, Grover said quietly, lifting the delicate glass to his thick lips and taking a healthy draught, the husband and wife will keep quiet if given enough coin, but their daughter caught me in the act.

Well, that’s a fine kettle of fish, John stated drily.

Grover looked at him with a raised eyebrow, his lips pressed together in irritation. 

I don’t pay you for your commentary, I pay you to find solutions. The mayoral election is in just a few months’ time and I cannot let this minor little incident affect my chances. What do we do about the two of them?

John leaned back in the leather chair and sipped his whiskey, his eyes raised to the decorative etchings on the tin ceiling tiles above them as he considered options.

Grover let out a long, frustrated breath of hot air and ran his fingers through his thinning hair. He was the president of the largest bank in Syracuse, as well as a shareholder in one of the most successful salt mines in the area. He had more than enough money to buy off the police and avoid any charges but, if word spread, his political chances would go up in smoke.

He was starting small but had every intention of continuing his political climb, possibly as far as the White House. He would not let some strumpet and her guttersnipe take that chance away from him.  

I take it that dispatching the two of them is not an option? John asked. 

Only as a last resort, isn’t there something else we could do?

There is a possibility, but it will all depend on the husband. Is he truly destitute?

I’m not sure, I’ve never met the man. What do you propose?

Let me meet with him and make an offer, a substantial offer.

But, what about the girl? We can’t be assured she won’t say anything. She’s too young to realize the repercussions should she open her mouth about any of this.

John held his hand up to stop his employer’s comments. I have no intention of taking that chance. The money will be to buy the father’s silence. There is a lunatic asylum just outside of town. If the husband agrees, he can have his wife committed for any number of reasons. Once in there, it’s unlikely she’ll ever get out.

Grover recalled the look of complete disgust on the woman’s face when he accosted her earlier that afternoon, and he thought that would be a very fitting disposition indeed.

What of the girl?

I think she’ll have to go there, as well.

They take in children?

Yes, there are entire wards filled with them. Even if they determine there is nothing wrong with her and let her out, no one will believe a woman who’s been a guest of the state in a lunatic asylum, so all your worries will be over.

Grover’s thick lips parted in a grotesque smile. I knew I could count on you. Will you be able to convince the father to do the right thing?

I’m sure he’ll go along once he realizes there is no other feasible option. John drained the remaining alcohol in his glass and stood up. Give me the name and address and I’ll start everything into motion. No sense in giving them any time in which to create trouble.

Excellent, Grover said, as he stood and made his way over to the cast iron safe standing in the corner. What do you think about this treasure?

Is that new?

Yes, it was just delivered by M. Briggs and Son, over in Rochester. I could do without the fancy painted exterior, but Mrs. Buchanan gave it her approval for not clashing overly much with the rest of the décor, so I guess that’s something.

Combination lock?

Yes, and only I have it, Grover muttered, as he knelt down in front of the large safe and began spinning the dial. Glancing over towards the desk, he assured himself that his body was blocking John from any view of the dial.

A few moments later, he stood up and handed a thick packet of bills to John.

This should be enough to cover whatever you need for Finster. I added in some extra because I wasn’t sure if you would have to grease any palms at The Asylum.

John pulled his pocket watch out from his red silk waistcoat and narrowed his eyes. I should have plenty of time to meet with my contact at the Asylum and ensure they have appropriate openings available. Then I will visit the Finsters. 

Thank you, my friend, Grover said, reaching up to clasp John’s shoulder. Finish this right and there will be a hefty bonus in your wages for this month. I’ll be here for another day or two, be sure to let me know if you run into any problems.

CHAPTER 2

To add to Ada’s troubles, a storm blew in that afternoon, sending her husband and two sons back from the fields early. She’d had time to change her clothing and hide the torn shirtwaist, but the bruise and swelling on her face stood out boldly.

Olivia, she called, as soon as the rain began to pound against the roof.

Yes, Mother, she responded, hurrying into the kitchen. 

Your father and brothers will be in the house soon. I know that it is a sin to lie, but I must beg you to go along and agree with whatever I tell your father about what happened today. Can you do that for me?

Olivia had inherited many of her father’s features and she already stood almost as tall as her mother. Her violet eyes were open wide and filled with concern and confusion, as she watched her mother struggle to blink back tears.

Your father is a proud man and, if I tell him what went on, he could do harm to Mr. Buchanan and I can’t let that happen.

Why do you want to protect Mr. Buchanan so much?

I’m not protecting him, my dear. He’s a rich, powerful man and would have your father behind bars for so much as just threatening any harm against him. We must protect your father from Mr. Buchanan. Will you help me do that?

Olivia nodded her head, trying to understand what all of this meant, but it was beyond her comprehension. She would, however, do as she was asked because she trusted her mother above all others.

Good, Ada said softly. Now help me chop up these vegetables so we can get the stew on for our evening meal.

Ada’s heart froze in her chest when she heard the door open and the heavy stride of her husband as he walked into the kitchen.

Hello, dear, it appears that all of us are done with our chores early today.

She stepped over to Bram and raised onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He grabbed both of her arms and set her back away from him so he could get a better look at her.

What happened to your face?

Ada was unable to control the flush that blossomed on her cheeks, which fit in perfectly with her story. I am so embarrassed, Bram. I’ve become quite a dunce lately and I’m afraid that I tripped on a piece of furniture at the Buchanan’s and fell down the stairs.

The lines on his forehead deepened and his brows pulled together. Were you badly injured?

No, Bram, just bruised a bit. Ada looked down at the ground so she did not have to meet his dark blue eyes any longer, his concern was touching and Ada was not sure if she could continue to keep up this pretense.

He was a handsome man and, although the last couple of years had been difficult because of their lack of money, she never lost the love that she felt when she first saw him. Ada hated to lie to Bram but could see no other way to keep her family safe.

She walked back over to the cutting board and stood next to Olivia, who kept her eyes down and her mouth tightly closed.

The Buchanans have gone on holiday for the next couple of weeks. Mrs. Buchanan will contact me when they return if she has further need of my services.

If? They’ve gone on holiday before and never stopped your services.

Ada shrugged. That is what I was told.

Was it because of your clumsiness? Did you break anything of theirs?

I may have, Ada replied, still not meeting his eyes.

I think we best discuss this further when we are alone.

It was rare that Bram became so angry that he would strike out at Ada, but she understood that today was likely one of those times and braced herself to endure the pain silently, and to never let on about what had actually happened that afternoon.

Dinner was served a little early that evening and they sat around the heavy oak dining table filling themselves on warm beef stew and the fresh, doughy rolls that Olivia had helped make.

Their eldest son, Karl, recently turned nineteen and their youngest, Edwin was seventeen. Both of the boys shared their father’s deep blue eyes but, while Edwin’s hair was dark brown, Karl’s was as black as night, just like his father and sister.

Both of them were well-muscled, as were most farmers, and they stood taller than many of their friends.

Olivia had never been close with her brothers, not only because of the significant age gap, but also because she was just a female and, therefore, simple as a goose in their eyes.

Ada was just moving the food around in her bowl, she had no appetite to begin with and the current conversation was filing her with great trepidation.

Why should I stay? Karl asked.

Because we need you here, to help on the farm, Bram responded, his voice frostier than normal.

Father, you know that as the youngest, Edwin will inherit the farm when you can no longer work it. There’s no money to set me up with a farm of my own right now. I have friends who are doing office work in the city and earning over six hundred dollars a year.

You do not have the temperament to be an office worker, Karl. You are a farmer.

Yes, Father, I am. But if I continue to work here, for nothing, I’ll never have my own farm. They say there is land for the taking out to the west. If I start putting money away now, it won’t be long before I can save enough to go and find my own place somewhere else.

Bram’s face was reddening as his fury grew. It was difficult enough for them to get by right now. Without his oldest, strongest son to help with the chores, it would be almost impossible.

And now Ada had managed to lose her job, as well. He narrowed his eyes and slid them across the table to where she was sitting with her hands twisted together on the table in front of her.  

His ire continued to build, and his hand began to itch at the thought of releasing some of his frustration out onto his wife. After all, she did lose her job and, therefore, deserved to be appropriately chastised.

Olivia could feel the undercurrent of tension in the room but didn’t understand the full extent of it. All that she did know was that she wished to be far away from them.

May I be excused? she asked politely.

All eyes turned her way and Olivia immediately regretted bringing herself to their attention.

Ada spoke quickly. Yes, dear, run outside and play. The rain has stopped and the lightning bugs will be out soon.

Thank you, Mother.

Olivia jumped up and headed for the back door.

What about the dishes?

She stopped and turned towards Bram, her mouth opened slightly, trying to figure out how best to respond and not make him any angrier.

I’ll take care of the dishes this evening, her mother said. And you can make up for it by doing them all tomorrow.

I will. This time Olivia hurried through the door before her father was able to say anything else.      

––––––––

It wasn’t more than half an hour later that a rich-looking carriage pulled up their drive and stopped at the front of the house. Olivia snuck around in the early evening shadows to see who the stranger was that had come calling at such an inappropriate hour.

She saw her father walk out onto the porch, hurriedly donning a frayed jacket so that he was properly attired to greet the well-dressed man who stepped up onto it and shook his hand.

Olivia could just barely hear what they were saying and snuck even closer, hiding in the thick brush alongside the porch.

The stranger was tall, even taller than her father, and he had a scary face, stern and unblinking.

What can I do for you? her father asked, offering him one of the rickety chairs scattered about on the porch.

My name is Wilson and I work for Mr. Buchanan, he replied, watching Bram closely, curious to see his reaction and get an idea of what his wife may have told him about the incident at the house.

I understand Mrs. Finster may not be called back to work.

Did she tell you why?

Of course, she fell down the stairs and broke something. Are you here to collect for the value of the item? Because I ain’t got even enough to feed my family.

I see, Wilson replied, leaning back in the chair and folding his hands together. I was afraid this might happen, but your wife was not completely honest with you, Mr. Finster.

In what way?

In every way. Mrs. Buchanan is off on holiday, so the house was almost empty while your wife was working today. Fortunately, Mr. Buchanan left his office early because, when he arrived, he found your wife rifling through Mrs. Buchanan’s jewelry with the intent to steal some of the most expensive pieces.

My wife wouldn’t, Bram began, but Wilson lifted his hand to stop him.

Let me finish, please. His eyes were lifeless and cold as he stared at Bram, who finally slammed his mouth shut and allowed the man to continue.

I have no idea how she might have explained her bruised face but, according to Mr. Buchanan, when he accused of her trying to steal the jewelry, she threw a vase at him and started to run. He grabbed for her, but the cloth of her shirtwaist gave way and she fell forward, hitting the edge of a wooden chest in the room.

What happened then? Bram asked, his eyes were filled with doubt but, if it hadn’t happened that way, how would this man know about his wife’s bruised face? 

She located your daughter and ran from the house. Mr. Buchanan considered contacting the authorities, but we discussed it and thought there might be a better solution to the problem.

I don’t understand.

Wilson leaned closer to Bram and Olivia couldn’t be sure of what she was hearing, but her blood ran cold, nonetheless.

Your wife is obviously suffering from a serious affliction if she is capable of doing such a thing. She has been a faithful employee of the Buchanans and Mr. Buchanan wants to be sure she gets the necessary help. He believes that would be the kinder route, rather than locking her up behind bars, possibly for the rest of her life.

The angry redness of Bram’s face had long since faded and now it had gone completely ashen. Wilson was bombarding him with information that he wasn’t able to process quickly, and he felt muddled and confused.

What are you suggesting?

Wilson was surprised at how well this was going, Finster was an easier mark than he had anticipated.

There is a new state lunatic asylum, just outside of town. It is state of the art and your wife can get the necessary treatment that she needs. If you agree to commit her there, I have been authorized to offer a significant amount of money to help tide you over in her absence.

How much?

What was that? Wilson asked, his eyes flickering down towards the end of the porch where Olivia was crouching out of sight. She quickly covered her mouth with her hand to keep from letting out any other unwanted noises.

Nothing, how much?

As they continued their conversation, Olivia quietly snuck away from her hiding spot and ran around to the back of the house.

She found her mother hiding in the shadows of the parlor, near the windows that opened onto the porch. Olivia ran to her and they wrapped their arms tightly around each other.

Ada stepped out of her daughter’s embrace and led her into the kitchen, where they wouldn’t be heard by the men.

I did not steal anything, Olivia, you must believe me.

I do, but what can we do now? Will Father run him off? Will they really call the police?

I think they will. I told you, Buchanan is a powerful man, he won’t want anyone to know what really happened today.

So, you have to go to jail?

No, Ada said, blowing out a long, slow breath. Your father plans to commit me into The Asylum this very night.

What is that?

I fear it is a rather unpleasant place, but it will not be near as bad as jail. Olivia, they were also talking about having you go to The Asylum. I did not hear their entire conversation, but you are a witness, and they don’t want to leave behind anyone who might say something bad about Mr. Buchanan. I think we both may be going there tonight.

For how long?

I don’t know, my love. Tears filled her eyes as she