one at all.
She wasn’t just dying. She was losing her mind.
She began to curse the God she didn’t believe in anymore. She tried to tell herself that it would be all right. She did have family. George would come to be with her. And maybe Scottie. She loved Scottie so much. If he were to come, and hold her hand…
Scottie wouldn’t come.
But George would. She wouldn’t be so alone. So—
So terrified.
She wouldn’t hear voices then.
No, she wouldn’t hear them for long.
Death was rushing upon her with the speed of a roller coaster. And she was on a downhill ride, shrieking silently into the night.
Rowenna’s head was spinning. She hadn’t been shot, which she had thought at first, and to her amazement, her heart was beating a thousand miles an hour in relief. She’d been hit on the head by some kind of a projectile, though, she realized, fumbling around the floor where she had fallen when her desk chair had catapulted backward. Her fingers closed around her image of the god Wodin. The bullet that had discharged from her gun had hit the figure; the figure had hit her head. Amazingly, both were only knicked now.
But she wasn’t alone, and she knew it.
“Who is there?” she shouted furiously.
“She’s alive,” the feminine voice.
“Yes, and you’re on your own. I’ve got to go.”
“What?” The single word was a shriek of amazement.
“Cath, I have to go, you’ve got to understand.”
“Oh, right. Mine is the tough one this time so you’re in a hurry.”
“Cathy, it’s the strangest thing, I can feel her. I’m being called, and I’ve assured her I’m on my way. On top of all that…”
“What?”
“I have to make a stop.”
“Where?”
“At the nephew’s house.”
“The nephew?”
“We’ll meet up shortly; I’ll call you.”
Rowenna heard the sound of a kiss. A quickish kiss; the kind a husband gave a wife before leaving for work in the morning.
“I’m insane. I don’t need to kill myself; they’ll just come and lock me up.”
“You are insane,” she heard. The female voice. Then there were hands, touching her.
She shrieked.
“I’m just trying to help you up!” she heard.
Why? What was going on?
She should have locked the door. She’d been warned over and over to do it. Who would have known that the people who broke into her house would be weird thieves who’d try to keep her alive rather than strangle or knife her?
“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “I’m going to call the police imme—”
“Why? To have them arrest you for trying to kill yourself? Suicide is against the law, you know.”
“Who are you, and what is it to you?” Rowenna said. She’d seated herself on the desk chair. Now she was aware that the woman who plagued her had perched atop her desk.
“At least you had a child. And you’re twenty-seven years old! You could have a dozen more.”
Rowenna went dead silent for a moment. “A dozen more would never make up for one lost,” she said quietly. “Ask any mother who has lost a child.”
“No, one life can never make up for another. That’s obvious. And I can’t tell you that the pain isn’t there, and that it isn’t horrible. But do you know what I think?”
“Am I supposed to care?”
“If you’re ready to kill yourself, you might as well listen to me first.”
“I don’t have much choice, apparently.”
“No, frankly you don’t. Unless you think you can will yourself to death.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“You should know. You, of all people, should know.”
“I—”
“I’m an angel on your shoulder, right now.”
“What—”
“Cathy Angel. It’s my name. Honestly. My husband, Don, just left.”
Rowenna curled her fingers into her palms as her hands lay in her lap. “I don’t care what your name is; you have no right to be in my house.”
“You don’t really want to die.”
“I do.”
“You don’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you know what you’re
She wasn’t just dying. She was losing her mind.
She began to curse the God she didn’t believe in anymore. She tried to tell herself that it would be all right. She did have family. George would come to be with her. And maybe Scottie. She loved Scottie so much. If he were to come, and hold her hand…
Scottie wouldn’t come.
But George would. She wouldn’t be so alone. So—
So terrified.
She wouldn’t hear voices then.
No, she wouldn’t hear them for long.
Death was rushing upon her with the speed of a roller coaster. And she was on a downhill ride, shrieking silently into the night.
Rowenna’s head was spinning. She hadn’t been shot, which she had thought at first, and to her amazement, her heart was beating a thousand miles an hour in relief. She’d been hit on the head by some kind of a projectile, though, she realized, fumbling around the floor where she had fallen when her desk chair had catapulted backward. Her fingers closed around her image of the god Wodin. The bullet that had discharged from her gun had hit the figure; the figure had hit her head. Amazingly, both were only knicked now.
But she wasn’t alone, and she knew it.
“Who is there?” she shouted furiously.
“She’s alive,” the feminine voice.
“Yes, and you’re on your own. I’ve got to go.”
“What?” The single word was a shriek of amazement.
“Cath, I have to go, you’ve got to understand.”
“Oh, right. Mine is the tough one this time so you’re in a hurry.”
“Cathy, it’s the strangest thing, I can feel her. I’m being called, and I’ve assured her I’m on my way. On top of all that…”
“What?”
“I have to make a stop.”
“Where?”
“At the nephew’s house.”
“The nephew?”
“We’ll meet up shortly; I’ll call you.”
Rowenna heard the sound of a kiss. A quickish kiss; the kind a husband gave a wife before leaving for work in the morning.
“I’m insane. I don’t need to kill myself; they’ll just come and lock me up.”
“You are insane,” she heard. The female voice. Then there were hands, touching her.
She shrieked.
“I’m just trying to help you up!” she heard.
Why? What was going on?
She should have locked the door. She’d been warned over and over to do it. Who would have known that the people who broke into her house would be weird thieves who’d try to keep her alive rather than strangle or knife her?
“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “I’m going to call the police imme—”
“Why? To have them arrest you for trying to kill yourself? Suicide is against the law, you know.”
“Who are you, and what is it to you?” Rowenna said. She’d seated herself on the desk chair. Now she was aware that the woman who plagued her had perched atop her desk.
“At least you had a child. And you’re twenty-seven years old! You could have a dozen more.”
Rowenna went dead silent for a moment. “A dozen more would never make up for one lost,” she said quietly. “Ask any mother who has lost a child.”
“No, one life can never make up for another. That’s obvious. And I can’t tell you that the pain isn’t there, and that it isn’t horrible. But do you know what I think?”
“Am I supposed to care?”
“If you’re ready to kill yourself, you might as well listen to me first.”
“I don’t have much choice, apparently.”
“No, frankly you don’t. Unless you think you can will yourself to death.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“You should know. You, of all people, should know.”
“I—”
“I’m an angel on your shoulder, right now.”
“What—”
“Cathy Angel. It’s my name. Honestly. My husband, Don, just left.”
Rowenna curled her fingers into her palms as her hands lay in her lap. “I don’t care what your name is; you have no right to be in my house.”
“You don’t really want to die.”
“I do.”
“You don’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you know what you’re
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