Page 45 of Whispers of Shadowbrook House
As Dr. Nichols examined Maxwell, he spoke in gentle tones, including Pearl in the conversation through the words he directed to Maxwell. “I’d love to see how strong your grip is. Will you grasp my hand?”
Maxwell remained silent, eyes closed and hands limp.
“When you cough, do you feel the pressure from the inside of your chest or the outside?”
No response. Was he awake? Aware? Conscious? Was he shutting Pearl and the doctor out by choice?
Pearl noticed the doctor’s eyes taking in not only every reaction and lack of reaction but also the corners of the room. He looked often toward the weeping wall near the window.
“Has this been your bedroom for long, Maxwell?”
When Max did not open his eyes or give any answer, the doctor glanced at Pearl.
She nodded. “For always.”
“When the two of you explore, how does the rest of the house feel to you, Maxwell?”
After a sufficient pause, the doctor looked to Pearl. She answered. “Maxwell is at his best when he’s exploring. He has grown so strong in the last while. His legs are getting longer, so he can climb ladders and staircases without tiring.”
She would have continued to extol Max’s strengths more for the boy’s benefit than the doctor’s, but she heard a grunt from the bed.
Maxwell squeezed his eyes closed much harder than before, proving by the effort he was no longer sleeping.
She quickly spoke, helping the doctor’s conversation along. “What’s your favorite room in the house, Max? Of all we’ve explored, surely you have something you like best.”
He grunted again but did not speak.
“Maybe one of the secret rooms with puzzle entrances? Or a parlor where you spend evenings with your grandfather?”
“No. This one.”
It wasn’t much, but he’d spoken so little since he’d taken ill. She was glad for any communication. She smiled at him, but he kept his eyes closed.
“Naturally, you love your own bedroom best.”
Dr. Nichols stepped around the foot of the bed so he could better see the boy’s averted face.
“What is it about this room that makes it your favorite?”
Maxwell refused to look at the doctor. “Nothing. Everything.”
Pearl wished she had explained Maxwell’s tendency to grumble and grouse when he was sleepy.
“Have you ever considered how the room might look and feel different if you asked for a new bedcover? Or if you had the wallpaper changed?”
“Don’t touch it.” The words had edges.
Pearl put her hand on Maxwell’s. “Dearest, please speak kindly to the doctor.”
“Don’t touch the wall,” Max said again, louder this time. “The house will be angry.”
A cold shiver ran across Pearl’s shoulders.
“Houses don’t feel anger, Max.” She spoke the words reflexively, but at the same time, she couldn’t swear they were true.
“The house is angry when people leave it.”
Pearl squeezed Maxwell’s hand. She wanted to curb this mood before it escalated. “Your grandfather must have felt sad when people he loved had to go.”
Maxwell pulled away from her and curled up into a ball. “Nobody had to go. They abandoned us.”
How could she answer such an accusation, especially when she felt so often the same way? Trying not to give in to such thoughts took daily effort, and now she didn’t have the energy.
Max’s sharp words dulled again. “I’ll never leave.”
Pearl faced the doctor. “He doesn’t usually speak this way. He’s tired.”
Dr. Nichols glanced at Maxwell and then turned to Pearl. “Is he often tired when he’s in this room?”
Pearl felt a slight shift in the air. Maybe a breeze through the cracks in the walls. A humming, shushing sound wafted past her.
“Of course. He comes here to sleep.”
“Does he suffer other complaints here? Headache? Stomach upset?”
Pearl nodded. “Sometimes. He rarely complains, but his illness affects him daily.”
“Is he more often irritable in this room than in others?”
“Don’t talk about me like I can’t hear you.” Maxwell’s voice rose to a higher pitch. “I’m right here and you can ask me.”
Pearl wanted to correct the boy’s rudeness, but Dr. Nichols turned to Max. “Do you often feel more ill when you’re in your bed?”
“I’m in my bed because I’m ill, not the other way round.”
She started to interrupt, to stop Max from speaking with disrespect, but the doctor glanced at Pearl and shook his head.
“Maxwell, I’d like your permission to examine your bedroom.”
“No.” The boy’s word was almost a shout.
Dr. Nichols kept his eyes on Max. “Why not?”
“The house doesn’t want you poking about.” Maxwell’s esca lating tone shocked Pearl.
She knelt beside the bed and whispered. “Max, dearest. I know you’re angry, but it’s time to calm down. You’ll hurt yourself if you carry on this way.”
Maxwell turned on her, his eyes shiny with tears and confusion. “I’m not angry. The house is.”
In all the times Maxwell had spoken to her about the whispers he heard in the halls of Shadowbrook House, he’d never sounded frightened. He was frightened now.
The doctor pressed his lips together. “I believe it is time to take him out of this room.”
Maxwell shook his head weakly. “No. I need to stay.”
Pearl and the doctor exchanged a look. She hated to see the young boy in pain, but she had sworn to do whatever she could to see him well again. She lifted Max from the bed and held him close.
When she reached the door, he began to thrash in her arms. She spoke soft words of comfort, struggling to carry Maxwell without any part of him striking the doorframe.
A few steps from the bottom of the stairs, Pearl heard Oliver’s voice call to her. He came running, reaching to take Maxwell’s weight from her arms. “What’s happened?”
She had no idea how to answer, her heart and mind in a tumult at seeing Maxwell in such distress. She walked with her arm on Oliver’s as he carried Max inside the parlor.
Oliver placed Max gently on a couch, and Dr. Nichols stepped forward to rest his hand on the boy’s head.
Pearl’s thoughts scattered, each trying to become an answer to one of her many unasked questions.
Oliver placed his hand on her arm. “Do you want me to stay with you, or am I in the way?”
Shaking her head, she said, “Please, will you stay?”
The next moment, Mr. Ravenscroft stepped through the door. He looked at the doctor, then Pearl, Maxwell, and Oliver in turn. Without speaking a word, he sat in the chair at Maxwell’s side, placing a hand on the boy’s ankle.
Pearl stood close and held Maxwell’s hand, hoping he would settle.
The boy looked at her with huge, damp eyes. His voice trembled. “I’m afraid.”
Tears welled in Pearl’s eyes. “I’m here. We are all here for you.” She sat on the couch next to Max, and he rested his sweaty head on her shoulder.
Then he reached for his grandfather’s hand.
Mr. Ravenscroft leaned forward in his chair and grasped the small hand with his own. “Maxwell, my dear boy, I need you.”
His words stopped Pearl’s breath. It seemed the most powerful statement a person could say. I need you.
Pearl caught Oliver’s eye and gestured toward the door. Carefully shifting Maxwell from her arms to Mr. Ravenscroft’s care, she followed Oliver into the hallway.