numbed. Then with one last shuddering sigh, she stood, opened the car door and slid into the driver’s seat. She needed Tom. Only he could understand what had just happened.
* * *
Annie had left her phone at home on purpose, but she went to it as soon as she walked in the door. It notified her of three voice mails waiting. She played the first.
“This is Tom. I hope you’re feeling better this morning. It’s about eight. I’ll call back.”
The second.
“Annie? Tom again. Please pick up if you’re there. I’d really like to talk to you for a minute. Just a minute or two. I’ll try again, later.”
The third.
“It’s almost ten o’clock. I’m sure you’re awake by now. I guess you don’t want to talk. Please, let me know you’re all right. I’ve got to leave here in a minute on business, but if I get a chance, I’ll try to call again. Anyway, if I can’t reach you before you go to work, I’m going to stop by the theater on my way home.”
Annie groaned at his last words. After leaving the river, she’d stopped at the first pay phone she saw to call in sick. She whispered a plea, “Please, call me again, Tom.”
As she heated soup for her lunch, she allowed herself cautious glimpses of the drowning baby. Although she wondered if she was blocking more, she recalled only the same few seconds of sight and sensation. She’d experienced Maggie’s death. What would her own be like?
Shouldn’t you be more concerned about your life ?
She admired people who saw things in black and white, able to make practical decisions about their lives. Sensible people. Nothing in her life seemed sensible right now. She felt raw and wounded, completely unprotected. The truth had become fantasy, nightmare had become reality, and yet, she held onto the hope there would be a happy ending. Was that possible for her?
* * *
Tom sighed in relief when Annie answered her phone. “Are you okay? I tried to call you all morning.”
“I’m . . . I just . . . didn’t feel like going in to work today.”
Her voice had wavered and the snuffling sounds that followed told him she was crying, again.
“Annie, please don’t.” He mentally kicked himself, cursing his stupidity in forcing open the floodgate she’d built to hold back the memories of abuse she’d never dealt with and probably wasn’t ready to deal with now. “I’m so sorry I’ve caused you to be this upset.”
“Oh. No,” she sobbed. “I’m not crying because of last night. Today started out lousy, and then . . . well, something really scared me.”
In a split second, he switched gears from penitent to defender. “What happened?”
“I had a vision at the river. I went there to be alone . . . to think. At first, I thought maybe I’d fallen asleep and dreamed, but it wasn’t a dream, Tom. I was awake .”
“You had a vision by yourself? Spontaneously?” The possibility rocked him. He’d assumed the visions were something they had to share, something it took both of them to produce. He was angry—and yes, frightened—at the idea he might have one of these visions alone. At any moment.
“Yes,” she said, “and it scared me to death.” She gasped. “I shouldn’t say that.”
“What did you see?”
He listened as she described the vision, and how scared and helpless she’d felt when she couldn’t talk to him about it. “Write this down,” he said, when she paused. “This is my cell number. You can reach me anytime on it. And if it’s in the middle of the night, leave a message, and I’ll call you as soon as I can the next morning.” He recited the number, but as he waited for her to write it down, a moment of panic washed over him. He must be insane. What if she called while he was with Julie? What if—
“Thanks for your number,” she said, “but I won’t use it unless there’s an emergency. A supernatural emergency.” She uttered a weak laugh.
His offer had consoled her. He couldn’t take it back, but he
* * *
Annie had left her phone at home on purpose, but she went to it as soon as she walked in the door. It notified her of three voice mails waiting. She played the first.
“This is Tom. I hope you’re feeling better this morning. It’s about eight. I’ll call back.”
The second.
“Annie? Tom again. Please pick up if you’re there. I’d really like to talk to you for a minute. Just a minute or two. I’ll try again, later.”
The third.
“It’s almost ten o’clock. I’m sure you’re awake by now. I guess you don’t want to talk. Please, let me know you’re all right. I’ve got to leave here in a minute on business, but if I get a chance, I’ll try to call again. Anyway, if I can’t reach you before you go to work, I’m going to stop by the theater on my way home.”
Annie groaned at his last words. After leaving the river, she’d stopped at the first pay phone she saw to call in sick. She whispered a plea, “Please, call me again, Tom.”
As she heated soup for her lunch, she allowed herself cautious glimpses of the drowning baby. Although she wondered if she was blocking more, she recalled only the same few seconds of sight and sensation. She’d experienced Maggie’s death. What would her own be like?
Shouldn’t you be more concerned about your life ?
She admired people who saw things in black and white, able to make practical decisions about their lives. Sensible people. Nothing in her life seemed sensible right now. She felt raw and wounded, completely unprotected. The truth had become fantasy, nightmare had become reality, and yet, she held onto the hope there would be a happy ending. Was that possible for her?
* * *
Tom sighed in relief when Annie answered her phone. “Are you okay? I tried to call you all morning.”
“I’m . . . I just . . . didn’t feel like going in to work today.”
Her voice had wavered and the snuffling sounds that followed told him she was crying, again.
“Annie, please don’t.” He mentally kicked himself, cursing his stupidity in forcing open the floodgate she’d built to hold back the memories of abuse she’d never dealt with and probably wasn’t ready to deal with now. “I’m so sorry I’ve caused you to be this upset.”
“Oh. No,” she sobbed. “I’m not crying because of last night. Today started out lousy, and then . . . well, something really scared me.”
In a split second, he switched gears from penitent to defender. “What happened?”
“I had a vision at the river. I went there to be alone . . . to think. At first, I thought maybe I’d fallen asleep and dreamed, but it wasn’t a dream, Tom. I was awake .”
“You had a vision by yourself? Spontaneously?” The possibility rocked him. He’d assumed the visions were something they had to share, something it took both of them to produce. He was angry—and yes, frightened—at the idea he might have one of these visions alone. At any moment.
“Yes,” she said, “and it scared me to death.” She gasped. “I shouldn’t say that.”
“What did you see?”
He listened as she described the vision, and how scared and helpless she’d felt when she couldn’t talk to him about it. “Write this down,” he said, when she paused. “This is my cell number. You can reach me anytime on it. And if it’s in the middle of the night, leave a message, and I’ll call you as soon as I can the next morning.” He recited the number, but as he waited for her to write it down, a moment of panic washed over him. He must be insane. What if she called while he was with Julie? What if—
“Thanks for your number,” she said, “but I won’t use it unless there’s an emergency. A supernatural emergency.” She uttered a weak laugh.
His offer had consoled her. He couldn’t take it back, but he
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