Adermoor Cove: Atonement - 4. Chapter 4

Nora had forgotten how beautiful the front of the island was; from a distance it looked like something you might see in a travel brochure. Had it looked this beautiful when Craig and she had come here twenty-four years ago?

Yes, she remembered it had, even more so than it did now. It had been in 1995. Craig and Nora had stood on a ferry boat just like this one, looking at the island from across the water. She remembered the haunted expression on Craig's face. His eyes had been wide and distant; he had looked like a man returning to the place where he had been held captive.

What could be so terrible about this place? Nora had wondered, in a time when she hadn't realized just how much there was to know, facts that had been hidden from her. But now, older and more experienced, Moira knew the truth. When they'd adopted Lane, just six months old, and taken him from this place - it occurred to Nora for the first time that Craig had thought he was saving the baby from the horrors of the island - something had followed Lane. Something that wanted him dead.

The ferry let the passengers off at the docks. Nora was pretty sure it had been the beginning of tourist season the last time she had come here; with the end of September quickly approaching people would be coming in droves, looking to enjoy the attractions the town offered before the cold settled in. After a long, harrowing journey Nora was exhausted. It had been impossible to sleep on the plane. She sat down on a bench and called for a cab.

As she waited for the cab to arrive, she entertained herself by watching people stroll by. Many of them were older couples, enjoying retirement, but there were a few younger couples strolling along with kids in tow or pushing toddlers in strollers. She played a guessing game with herself: who was a tourist and who was a townie.

Only a few minutes had passed before the cab pulled up beside her - one of the pleasures of being in a small town versus a big city: you didn't have to wait as long for a cab.

The cab was driven by an elderly man who greeted her pleasantly. When she told him she wanted to go to The Clam’s Pearl Inn he immediately pulled away from the curb. “I know exactly where that is,” he said.

Within a few turns he stopped in front of the inn. It really hadn't been far, only a few stops at most. She thanked the driver and paid him before getting out of the car. She turned to face the Victorian-house-turned-hotel. It struck her how little this place, the entire island, had changed, while she herself had grown older and more embittered. The only obvious changes she could see of the house, based on her memory, was it had been repainted at some point. But the wrought iron gate, spread open like welcoming arms, was still there; the grass beside the path leading up to the door was perfectly mowed. Various planted flowers swayed in the breeze blowing in from the sea.

But Nora was frightened. Frightened of the ghosts she would have to confront every step of the way.

Get it over with. Do it for Lane. He needs you.

And so she walked to the front door, toting her luggage with her. A small bell sounded when she entered the parlor. The bell seemed to echo through the passage of time, connecting the past and the present.

A woman with dreadlocks sat at the counter behind a computer monitor, chewing bubble gum. With her black hair and black makeup she looked comically out of place, one of the few signs Adermoor Cove had changed at all.

It didn't take long for the young woman to find Nora on the reservation list. Once Nora had paid for the room with her credit card and she had the key to her room, she climbed up to the second floor. The door had a brass 2 on the front. Was it possible Craig and she had stayed in this room? She couldn't remember.

Inside the room, Nora put her duffel bag and suitcase at the foot of the bed. She went to the window and looked at the picturesque view outside. With the Atlantic spread out before her and gliding seagulls swooping the air, the scene looked staged for her benefit. Or a Norman Rockwell painting. An illusion to draw her in and make her feel safe.

She closed the curtains, letting out a heavy sigh. Last time I was ignorant. I knew nothing. Now I know better.

Nora curled up on the queen sized bed, settled her head on the pillow, and wondered when the last time she'd felt this tired. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine Craig lying next to her, the sound of his voice, the smell of his cologne, the touch of his hand; to travel backward in time and memory.

But no matter how hard she tried over the years she could never conjure up these memories. He had become a ghost whose face she could not remember. It was so much easier now to imagine Julian's presence, a man she loved but refused to let herself get close to out of guilt due to Craig's death.

                        …

She woke up the next morning, hungry. Typically, before she did anything else, Nora took a shower - she hated the feeling of being dirty. But this morning she was simply ravenous. So she took what her mother Niaomi Hardy, always called a “whore’s bath”, brushing her teeth, slathering on deodorant, and running a comb through her hair before tying it up into a ponytail. She took nothing with her but her purse.

Wouldn’t it be odd if i ran into Lane right now, on the streets? she thought. Passing half a dozen gift shops and restaurants Nora tried to imagine the scene in her head. Knowing Lane it would either be a joyous reunion or an explosive argument in front of everyone and God. With a fresh bout of guilt she remembered the last conversation they’d had on the phone.

She decided on the Treasure Cove, the diner which she was delighted to see was still around after all these years. She went inside, beckoned by the smell of frying meat and grease. She paused in front of the animatronic pirate. This wasn’t here before, she thought with a frown. Curious, she pressed the button and wish she hadn’t. She watched the pirate do its little routine and felt vaguely disturbed when it was done.

For breakfast she had a pancake, scrambled eggs, and two slices of toast with a cup of coffee. After she finished eating, Nora went back to the inn to shower for real this time and change her clothes. With these things taken care of she felt reinvigorated and more capable of continuing her mission.

Venturing back into town, Nora realized she wasn’t quite ready to see Lane yet. One would think a mother who had not seen the child they’d raised in over a year, would be anxious to do so, but she sensed this would not be a happy reunion between them. She instead went in search of the orphanage where Craig and she had adopted Lane. She had the address pulled up on Google Maps, an invention they did not have the last time she was here.

The directions she took led her away from the main hub of the town. But the deeper into town she went the older and less maintained many of the houses seemed to become. Many of them appeared to be older. Several people peered at her suspiciously from their porches, as if they could tell she wasn't from around here: a boy and a girl playing Barbies and G.I. Joes, an older man sitting on his porch, shirtless. Maybe I should have stayed downtown, Nora thought nervously. Finally she came to the orphanage. She stopped to see how time had changed the orphanage.

The aged, peeling edifice of the house reflected her own age; even the tall trees with their gnarled trunks and branches appeared weary with age. She touched the cool metal of the wrought iron gate with her hand and gently pushed it open. The hinges squealed as if trying to alert everyone inside the building to her presence. Her nerves jumped. Why did she feel like an intruder?

Better yet why did you come here in the first place?

She pressed the white button next to the mailbox. A minute later a young nun came to the door, poking her head outside. "Can I help you?"

“Yes.” Moira put on what she hoped to be her most reassuring smile. “My name is Nora Hardy. I came to this orphanage to adopt years ago. I’m on vacation now and just visiting old haunts if you know what I mean. Does Sister Mary Ellis still work here?”

The nun’s eyes brightened. “She does. We just finished having lunch. If you want to step inside I’ll tell her you asked for her.”

Nora sat on a stiff wooden chair, looking around at the tall ceilings and archways and the spiral staircase that led up to the second floor, where the children slept in dormitories. They don’t make houses like this anymore, she thought.

When SIster Mary Ellis came it was a shock: in some ways she hadn’t changed much - Nora remembered a middle-aged woman with a powerful presence, stern and good humored and mischievous depending on the situation. Nora had seen her be quite stern with the kids. Just the few times Nora had met her, Sister Mary Ellis had left a permanent impression on Nora while overseeing the adoption.

Twenty years had changed the nun on the outside but not on the inside Nora saw. She was certainly more wrinkled and her hair had more white in it than black now but that presence, perhaps preternatural, was still there; it now felt even more powerful, having grown over time.

Nora had the incomprehensible fear the old nun would not remember - many parents had come to adopt since the day Lane had been put into Nora’s arms - but those fears were immediately laid to rest. By the glint in Ellis’s dark blue eyes and the slight curve of her lips, Nora knew she had not been forgotten. She could not explain the sense of relief she felt. Maybe it was seeing a friendly face after being lost in a sea of strangers. Though she had always considered herself to be more spiritual than religious, she immediately felt comforted.

With just a few feet of space between them, the women regarded each other. Then the nun bridged the remaining distance and hugged her. After a moment, no longer than a few seconds, Sister Ellis released her. “I had a feeling you might show up one day,” she said, “just as I knew your son would one day return.”

Nora’s eyebrows lifted. “Lane came to see you?”

The nun nodded. “Almost two weeks ago. Let’s talk on the porch where no one will hear us.”

On the porch they sat in rocking chairs. “You’ve aged well,” the nun said in a cracked voice. “You’ve certainly aged better than I have.” Though there was no harmful intent to it, there was something about her gaze that always made Nora feel as if she was made of glass, with all her emotions and thoughts exposed. “Being a nun is not easy,” she said, glancing at one of the trees standing guard over the house. “It ages you in both body and spirit. And then there’s working at an orphanage, with rowdy children day in and day out. Don’t get me wrong I wouldn’t trade it for anything, but I feel like a dried apricot most of the time. Probably look it too.”

“You don’t.”

Ellis gave her a cynical smile that said she knew better. “Thank you for saying so, but I know better dear.”

“So you said Lane came by. How was he?” Nora hated the nervous tremble she heard in her own voice. It was the sound of someone guilty.

“I don’t think I’ve felt someone was in so much pain - except for Jesus Christ, perhaps. He’s alive, I can tell you that much. He’s living in the lighthouse on Donovan Road. Vanessa left it to him in her will, left him everything. Vanessa and I thought when you and your husband adopted him and took him away from the island, Lane would have a chance at a normal life. We were wrong. He’s a Stanton and the Stanton’s, ever since they came to this island, have always been unlucky people. Lane told me what happened to your husband, that he died in an accident. I’m sorry to hear it happened.”

Nora looked away. She hadn’t come here to talk about Craig. The same questions she’d asked herself repeated itself: So why did you come here, then?

To confess, she thought.She might’ve known this all along in the back of her mind but it had only now truly revealed itself to her. To confess my sins and finally be free of them.

“Why does it want him so bad do you think?” Nora asked, meaning Lane.

“I asked Vanessa once, God bless her soul. She told me when Henry Stanton, one of the founding fathers of the island came here, he discovered the darkness, learned what it was capable of and that only he could keep it at bay. He built the lighthouse so he could keep an eye on it. And so it was later with his son, Eben, further down the line. But now there are no Stanton’s left...except for Lane. Anyway, it's something in their blood. Something the darkness feeds off.” Sister Ellis looked sad. “Are you here to help him?”

“To atone.”

The aged nun frowned. “Atone?”

Nora nodded. “I’ve concealed so much from him. I’ve hypnotized my own son to make him forget. You see it started when he was two. Small things at first, barely noticeable. You could pass them off as a trick of the mind. I'd set a cup down in the kitchen while making lunch and go into the living room to check up on him. He'd be playing with his toys or watching cartoons. Doing what normal kids do. But then I'd go back into the kitchen and the cup would be somewhere else or the cabinets would be open...or shut if they were already open."

Nora paused long enough to swallow before continuing. "Then when he got in middle school some of the kids started bullying him...he's always been really small, you know. It got to the point where some of the older kids were putting their hands on him. The school didn't do anything about it.

"One day Lane was walking home from school when two boys, both in high school, ganged up on him. They beat him really badly and he put them both in the hospital...without using his hands. He did it...with whatever runs in his family. I hypnotized him. Craig was against it but there was no one who we could go to - who would believe us? Lane forgot about the incident mostly. For six months things were normal.

And then one night I woke up suddenly. The side of the bed where Craig always slept was empty. I went into the hallway to see what he was doing up. And I could hear terrible sounds coming from the bathroom."

Nora felt oddly numb as she told Sister Mary Ellis what she hadn't told anyone else, not even Julian. "Craig was standing over the bathtub and he had Lane by the back of his head and was holding it under the water. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Craig never would have hurt a fly, had never even raised his voice to Lane, and now here he was trying to kill our son. I didn't know what else to do so I threw myself at Craig. He backhanded me hard enough to knock me down on the ground. When I looked into his eyes I saw they were black. Just...black. He moved towards me, meaning to strangle me to death I know but before he could Lane turned. His eyes were completely white and cloudy. The exact opposite of my husband's. He snapped Craig's neck - without using his hands."

Nora looked at Sister Ellis again. "I didn't want Lane growing up with the guilt of killing his father. It wasn't his fault, not really. If it wasn't for him we'd both be dead. So we staged it to make it look like Craig broke his neck trying to go down the stairs. I made Lane forget it all. But all I did was lock away the one thing Lane needs to stay alive and fight this thing. I failed him."

The nun surprised Nora by taking her hand. Her skin was calloused from old age. "You did not fail him. I'm sure Mary thought the same thing when she witnessed her son being crucified, even though she knew what his fate would be. If anyone's to blame it's Vanessa and I for not telling you the truth about Lane's heritage."

"I don't blame you," said Nora.

"I don't need to feel the weight of your blame to feel the weight of my own. Go be with your son, Nora Hardy. And remember this: Except for God there is no force on this Earth stronger than a mother's love for her child."