For Love of Audrey Rose by Frank De Felitta Read Free Book Online Page A

floor and the fabrics. A wooden leg from the desk had lodged its way into the china cabinet. Warm, sultry night air came in through jagged holes in the long windows.
    Against the couch, his right leg twisted up under him as he lay partially on the floor, his head on the couch itself, Bill knelt as though in a mockery of prayer. Dr. Gleicher gently eased his leg straight and moved Bill onto his back so he could breathe more easily. His forehead, furrowed in doubt and rage, glistened from sweat.
    “He’s going to be very depressed when he wakes up,” Dr. Gleicher whispered. “The violence will turn inward.”
    “You mean—”
    “That’s what suicide is. Rage that turns inward.”
    Janice knelt down at Bill’s side. She touched his forehead with a wet napkin. At her touch, his forehead trembled, and he moaned, as though fire roared through his nerves.
    “Mrs. Templeton, you know that your husband needs intensive help.”
    “Yes.”
    “He needs to be removed from this apartment. From you.” She turned, startled. “He needs to go away, where he can recover at a guided pace.”
    “I—I won’t allow it.”
    “You have no choice, Mrs. Templeton. You’re not professionally trained.”
    “No—”
    “Mrs. Templeton,” Dr. Gleicher repeated, patiently, crouching down with her over Bill’s tormented face, “there’s a good clinic at Ossining. It’s up the Hudson, a bit east. A very good clinic.”
    “No. I won’t do it. I can’t.”
    “What’s best for Bill, Mrs. Templeton? To be left here where Ivy grew up? To be accused night and day by everything he sees, by everything he hears, by a thousand memories of her? You must see that you have no choice at all.”
    Bill’s head turned away, against the pillows on the couch. He seemed to be trying to talk in his sleep. Janice leaned her ear close to his lips. She heard his thick, husky voice, sounding now like a death rattle.
    “…Ivy… the glass…Ivy… the glass…”
    In the morning, Dr. Gleicher telephoned the Eilenberg Clinic in Ossining and prepared Bill’s admission. Janice packed a small valise. At noon the clinic’s limousine arrived at Des Artistes. Heavily sedated, Bill rode beside Janice. His eyes blinked as though unused to the sunlight. Janice held his hand.
    The clinic was a long, low building shaded by oak trees. Bill was taken to his room and then Dr. Geddes, the chief psychiatrist, introduced himself. He was slender, not much older than Janice, and combed his sandy brown hair sideways to cover a balding area.
    Dr. Geddes explained the clinic. No drugs were used. No hypnosis. There were no guards, no hidden cameras. The only thing they requested was that Janice’s visits be on a regular schedule. Janice readily agreed. After the financial arrangements were concluded, Janice went into Bill’s room to say good-bye.
    An impenetrable wall of silence surrounded him. Beyond his window, the shimmering meadow grass fluttered in brilliant, sun-rich waves. Janice adjusted his collar and pulled the shade to keep the sinking sun from his eyes.
    She stepped to the door. Bill had made no response.
    “I love you, Bill,” she whispered. “Remember that always.”
    Dr. Geddes had business in town and drove Janice and Dr. Gleicher back to New York. They kept up a casual conversation, about Bill, about the changes in the city, about the changes in the country. Dr. Geddes had a youthful, intuitive manner, rather than Dr. Gleicher’s studied formality. There was a long, slow sunset, an air of tranquility, as they glided over the ramparts into the city. The purple twilight enclosed them in a misty, dreamlike atmosphere.
    She thanked both doctors and stepped out at Des Artistes. For an instant, she felt the rising tide of panic, but then turned and resolutely stepped alone into the lobby.
    The apartment loomed, dark and massive, around her. With Bill and Ivy gone, the living area seemed vast as a tomb.
    She drank a long, cold glass of rum in limeade. Now