The Skye in June (39 page)

“
The whole of London went into darkness as we ran along the streets trying to find a bomb shelter. Buildings were exploding. People were screaming and yelling. It was bedlam. We clung to each other and waited out the bombing in the corridor of a building. That was our first date,” Cathy said with a weak laugh.

“
Later on, after he and I knew we were truly in love, we decided to hurry and marry because he was shipping out. In my weekly letter home, I arranged a day and time to telephone my parents from my boarding house. Our parish priest was good about letting people use the telephone in the rectory for important business. In those days most people in Glasgow couldn’t afford to have phones in their homes. I was very nervous, but full of hope my love for Malcolm would win over my parents about us marrying.”

“
I called the rectory where my parents were waiting for my call. When I told my mother I wanted to marry Malcolm, she handed the phone to my father. He asked if he was Catholic, which many Highlanders are. Malcolm was not. My father threatened I could be excommunicated from the Catholic Church if I married him. As you probably know, Catholics were not expected to marry outside of their religion without grave consequences, such as being ostracized from their family and religion.”

“
Were you excommunicated?”

“
No. That would have been up to our parish monsignor and with Glasgow also being heavily bombed, I don’t think he was too interested in my sins. I knew it was just my father’s way of trying to get me to do what he thought was best.”

Dr. Weissman shook the pot of tea and then refreshed her cup.
“At least he wasn’t a Sassenach. Your mother must have been glad for that.”

“
She didn’t want me to marry a man from such a faraway place. I think she was afraid I’d leave her. But my father said I’d no longer be welcome at home if I went through with it. I was as stubborn as him and said I’d do what I wanted, with or without his permission,” Cathy explained.

“How did you feel about that?” he asked.

“
Devastated,” she said bitterly and then, sadly, “So horribly alone, separated from my family for the first time in my life. That was my first mortal sin. I loved a man without the sanction of the Holy Church.”

She told him about the gripping heartache of saying good-bye to her lover, who departed for the war only a couple of weeks after the phone conversation. Alone and angry with her father and saddened by her job of separating children from their parents, she went to live in Skye with Malcolm
’s mother, who welcomed her. When Malcolm died fighting in the war, her parents came to bring her home to Glasgow. She hung her head and began to cry.

Dr. Weissman handed Cathy a large cotton hankie as she sobbed. After a moment he asked,
“Does Jimmy know about your lover?”

“
Oh, yes. He was part of my mother’s scheme to redeem me and make an honest woman of me. I went back to Glasgow and married him, and life went on,” she said reflectively.

“
But the past shadowed your life, has it not, Mrs. MacDonald?”

Dabbing her eyes dry, Cathy said,
“Enough of me. What about June?”

“
Does she know about Malcolm?”

“
Strangely, I think she does. It seems to be part of her visions ever since she was a little girl. One time she showed me a picture in a magazine of a tall man kissing a woman at a train station. It frightened me so much to think my children might know about my secret past that I, well, I hate to admit, I yelled at her to stop with her story. I buried any memories I had of Malcolm and my life in Skye a long time ago. How can she know?”

“
Somehow, you are sharing your past memories with her through your thoughts. It can be called thought transference or telepathy. We can explore that with June,” he said.

“
I’d like to know more about it because June has said some uncanny things ever since she was just a wee thing. Like seeing an angel in the sky watching us. I used to pray to an angel to watch over Malcolm when he was at sea. And the yellow daisies June always loved. They’re like the kind I used to pick on the Isle to make daisy chains. It’s almost as though June’s been in Skye.”

“
Or that Skye is in June,” the doctor said.

Cathy
’s spirit had lifted with the confession of her secret past. But still, most important to her, she wanted to know when the doctor thought June could come home.

“
Before I can talk to you about releasing your daughter, I’ll first meet with June and get to know her. I’ll also have to run tests and find out what medication she is taking. This is the only way I can truly evaluate the situation fairly.”

“
I think I should warn you Dr. Schmidt is a very controlling person, who doesn’t like her power challenged,” Cathy said, while slipping into her high heels.

Dr. Weissman removed his glasses and wiped them clean with a hankie.
“Oh yes, Deborah Schmidt. She was once a student of mine. Such an ambitious young woman,” he said with a delightful chuckle.

Her heart sunk. Had she said the wrong thing? Would he now dismiss her as a neurotic mother who didn
’t understand the purpose of psychiatry?

“
Deborah and I will have a little chat,” Dr. Weissman said reassuringly.

The cat rubbed against Cathy
’s leg. She petted his black face and thought she’d take time to enjoy the art in the hallway on her way out.

* * * * *

Chapter 35

CLEANSING JUNE’S ENERGY

T
HE FRIDAY BEFORE Thanksgiving, Cathy met Dr. Weissman for their weekly meeting to discuss June’s situation. He told her June wouldn’t be released for that holiday. Cathy complained to him her daughter had been in the hospital for six months and she wanted her home for Christmas at the latest.

“
It’s a greater challenge than I initially thought,” he told her. He added an explanation of his position; traditional psychological practice would have declared June to be mentally ill. However, he was confident with his judgment June’s case was different. He closely observed how some mentally ill patients, like June, displayed their psychic impressions. He felt such unusual cases allowed him to be more objective.

There were also a few serious problems he wanted to deal with before allowing June to go home. In good faith, he agreed with Dr. Schmidt the process of purging the medications from their young patient
’s system by cutting back the dosage would continue to produce unpleasant mental reactions as well as some unexpected physical. Also, June’s conversations with unseen characters had become more frequent. Dr. Schmidt, who had no belief in psychic phenomena, voiced her concern her patient’s psychosis was only worsening. 

Dr. Weissman was very curious about one of June
’s visions that seemed to match some of the details Cathy had given about Malcolm’s death. He told Cathy the vision June had had.

* * *

The foghorn sounded louder as June and the red-haired woman moved closer to the beach. The mist was especially dense that morning. June felt mysterious changes in the air. With the red-haired woman she had named Angel, June began picking purple blossoms from a large leafy plant in the forest. The woman said it was time to heal the poison that the enemy had given to her.

When their hands were full, they went to the cove. The rhythm of the surging waves soot
hed June’s spirit. They moved farther down the incline and onto the beach. Between two large rocks they spotted a long shape lying half on the sand and half in the water. They rushed over and discovered it to be a young man dressed in a dark woolen jacket with brass buttons and dark pants covering heavy laced-up boots. His face was waxy white and his mouth slack. Two ringlets of his hair dripped down on his forehead, giving him a boyish appearance. He lay in sad repose, his eyes closed to the light of day. Even in death, he looked peaceful and handsome. Seaweed entwined his arms close to his body.

June looked out to the ocean to see if perhaps a boat had capsized and tossed him into the water. But there was nothing. Angel said his body came as an offering from the ocean deep to lie there on this isle in his final sleep.

Two shadowy figures came down the beach toward them. One was a tiny woman dressed in black with a shawl wrapped around her head. With her wrinkled face, June thought she looked like an old crone. The other was a younger woman in a flowing dress and cardigan buttoned up to her throat to protect her from the cold wet air. She wore a flowered scarf slipped low on her forehead, somewhat obscuring her face. She carried a yellow daisy chain that was so long it trailed behind her.

June was taken by surprise when Angel called out to the women, “He’s come home to us.”

The women walked over to June and Angel. The older woman immediately fell to her knees before the corpse. The younger woman cried “Malcolm!” as she pushed back her headscarf. Her long blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders. She started to wail.

June’s mouth fell open in shock when she recognized the blonde woman. It was her mother, even though her face was much younger.

“
Bidh sàmhach
,” the old crone said sharply.

By the way the word had been said, June could tell her mother was being told to be quiet.

Cathy paid heed to the crone, and her wailing became a soft crying. She knelt down next to the body and stroked Malcolm’s cold cheeks. Her fingers twirled around his red curls as her salty tears dripped onto his face.

Angel joined them. She placed her hand on his heart.

June watched the three––the crone, her mother, and Angel––pull the body from the water and up onto the sand. They gently unraveled the long ropes of seaweed from his body. When Malcolm was free, they encircled his body with the daisy chain. Seeing the women work in quiet unison, she felt a deep bond between them, and she desired to be part of it.

The crone crossed Malcolm’s arms on his chest and began to speak in a language strange to June.

Angel said to June, “She’s saying a prayer for his eternal rest in his new home, the after-world.”

In a voice barely audible against the frigid Arctic winds, Cathy said, “She’s speaking Gaelic, the true tongue of the Highlanders before the Sassenach forbade them to speak it.”

The crone spoke to June. Cathy translated, “Our journey is not over. You will be the one to reunite us in peace when the truth is known. Until then, your visions will not cease to trouble you.”

June was puzzled by how her mother knew Gaelic. Cathy handed June the end of the daisy chain to complete the circle around Malcolm.

* * *

“
Oh Mother of God!” Cathy gasped when she heard Dr. Weissman’s retelling of June’s vision. “It’s true Malcolm was found by another; a fisherman saw his body in the water. His mother and I ran down to the beach when we heard. But all the rest, the angel helping to heal June, I don’t know. If I could just bring her home I could help her understand more,” she said pleadingly.

“
Please trust us. We’re doing the best for your daughter,” the old doctor assured her.

She didn
’t tell him Nurse Morales had confided in her that he had thought of a way to secure cooperation from Dr. Schmidt to release June to his care. He had charmed Dr. Schmidt with a promise to co-author a book on the treatment of schizoid personalities. 

Cathy had no recourse but to trust him and Carla. She planned a Thanksgiving dinner without June.

The four months it took to wean June off the drugs had been tough going for the slight fourteen-year-old. On a good day,
June was again her natural optimistic self. But most days she was agitated and restless. Her swollen body had thinned down and was returning to her normal weight as the drugs drained out of her. Her hair, shorn in the hospital on Dr. Schmidt’s orders, had come back a stronger titian-red. The once wild curls had softened to loose waves that framed her face.

On
her release from the hospital, Dr. Schmidt prescribed sleeping pills to help combat her insomnia. But June wanted better control of her psychic visions and didn’t ask for a refill when the prescription was finished. Still, her jangled nervous system fought to balance the energy rushing chaotically through her slight body, causing uncontrollable facial and body twitches. She would curse loudly at the pains of drug withdrawal when her fingers curled in uncontrollable spasms.

Cathy pushed for her daughter to be home for Christmas. J
une was given certain conditions as part of her release from the hospital. As stipulated by her parents, especially by her father and approved by the two psychiatrists, she put aside her stubbornness and agreed she’d no longer have an altar, practice witchcraft, or talk about her visions to anyone but Dr. Weissman. She would have said yes to almost anything in order to be released from the hospital.

Christmas in the MacDonald household was barely acknowledged. Cathy’s nervous twittering about things being much better now that June was home, went ignored.