For Love of Audrey Rose by Frank De Felitta

the dark windows. Over and over he called to her, until she heard. Lips quivering, she looked blindly for the sound.
    “Here, darling,” he whispered, “I’m here! It’s Daddy!”
    Exhausted, looking for him, touching his coat as he came within reach, Ivy seemed unable to believe it. Then she scampered into his arms, sobbing against his chest. Hoover rocked her back and forth. Janice stepped slowly through the quiet apartment. All she heard was Ivy’s gentle, rhythmic breathing.
    Hoover lifted Ivy’s arm and softly redressed the burnt hand. Then he washed her forehead, caressed her cheek, and carried her up to her bedroom. Janice followed in a daze. For a long time, he stood there, looking down at Ivy. The room was dark, and quiet, and Janice suddenly felt the aftershock of the violence. She sat down abruptly on the bed.
    “Don’t you see what we’re dealing with here?” he asked, his eyes avoiding hers. “We’re dealing with something far greater than Ivy’s physical welfare. We’re dealing with her soul, the selfsame soul of my daughter, Audrey Rose. That’s what we must help and try to save.”
    A peculiar buzz ran through Janice’s head, as though she had not slept for a week. All she wanted was for him to stop talking.
    “It’s a soul in such pain and torment that it will push Ivy back to that moment of death, back to the fire and smoke, if we don’t help…”
    Shut it out,
her brain screamed.
Don’t listen!
    “I—I don’t know what you’re saying,” she managed to blurt.
    He looked at her.
    “I’m saying that Audrey Rose came back too soon,” he said simply. “Out of fear, horror, she returned too soon, and now seeks to escape this earth-life.
This
is the meaning of Ivy’s nightmares.”
    “No!” she shouted. “You’re crazy. My husband says you belong in the nuthouse and he’s right!”
    Hoover’s jaw clenched. Mastering himself, he swallowed and relaxed, but his eyes blinked rapidly as though humiliated that she still did not understand him.
    “That’s your fear talking, Mrs. Templeton,” he whispered.
    “No, damn it. It’s me talking. Now get out of here!”
    Hoover came suddenly closer, leaning over her, until his face was only inches from her, his breath warm and sweet. Janice looked into the depths of his pale blue eyes and found an intolerable gentleness there.
    “Will you open your heart and try at least to understand what I’ve been saying?” he entreated.
    “I don’t know,” she said, her voice weak. “I don’t know what you want of me.”
    Hoover sensed contact with her. He smiled. His eyes became bright. The words poured out in a silver rush.
    “We must form a bond, Mrs. Templeton, you and I, so filled with love that we can mend her, so that the soul of Audrey Rose can find its rest. We’re the only ones who can help her. You and I.”
    Janice felt a hypnotic power in his voice, a lulling, tugging seductiveness that weakened her. Yet she felt secure with him; his presence meant Ivy was safe.
    “Don’t shut the door on me, Mrs. Templeton,” he breathed. “Allow me to come into your life. Allow me to serve you, and Ivy, and Audrey Rose. This is the meaning of my life. All those years of searching, hoping, doubting—”
    He drew Janice closer to him. He saw that her eyes now darted over his face, examining him for signs, clues, some symbol of what reality had become.
    “Can you just throw me aside?” he whispered heatedly. “Can you?”
    “No,” Janice cried weakly, feeling the wet of her own tears on her face.
    “Thank you,” Hoover exhaled, grateful.
    He stood up, and it seemed now that he possessed the bedroom, the apartment, and all that was in it, as well as the two living beings there. He looked back at Ivy, who turned comfortably in a pleasant sleep.
    “We are connected,” he said with finality. “You and I, Mrs. Templeton. All three of us. We have come together by a miracle and now we are inseparable.”
    He turned, a dark look suddenly