Woman by Richard Matheson Page B

off,
incredulous, "You think that Ganine and I—?" Again, he broke off.
"Liz are you insane? How
could you possibly?"
     
         She interrupted fiercely.
"She was here when I got back! Wearing your bathrobe! Naked underneath!"
     
         "Jesus Christ," he
muttered. He shook his head in disbelief. "And you assumed—?"
     
          "Assumed!" she screamed. The effort made her cry out in pain.
     
         "Liz, I don't know why
you're thinking this," he said, "but you are absolutely wrong! She was here this morning. I tried to give
her Dr. Thorston's number and she left in a fury! Fifteen minutes later, I made
our bed, got dressed and attended the conference! All
afternoon, Liz! All
afternoon! I just got back! How in the hell am I
supposed to have had sex with that demented girl! For that matter, how did she
get back inside the apartment?! I locked the door when I left."
     
         Liz stared at him with a
dumbfounded expression. "I don't—" she started, then couldn't finish.
"David, I don't. . . understand."
     
         "I don't understand
either," he responded. "Except—" He stopped and pulled a sheet
of paper from his jacket pocket, bringing it over to Liz. "The schedule of
events this afternoon," he said. "In case you still need proof that I
wasn't here."
     
         She took the paper and
glanced at it, then put it down on her lap. David walked over to the sofa and
sat beside her. He put his right arm over her shoulders. At first she stiffened
resistingly, then the tension slipped out of her and she put her head on his
shoulder. "What are we going to do?" she asked.
     
         "About Ganine?"
     
         She didn't answer.
     
         "I have no idea at the
moment," he said. "Except that we've got to avoid her. If she can
give you a headache. . ."
     
         "That isn't all she can
do," Liz said. "Look at the plants."
     
         Like her, he couldn't
believe his eyes at first. Then he muttered, "Jesus Christ, who is this girl?" he said.
     
         "I wish we knew,"
she said. She looked at him with sudden curiosity. "I thought you sprained
your ankle," she said.
     
         His smile was grim. "I
did," he said. "She rubbed it and it went away."
     
         "Oh, dear God,"
she said. "I don't like that at all."
     
         "No," he stroked
her hair. "I don't either." He grimaced as the thought struck him.
"You went to see Charlie," he said. "How is he?"
     
         "They can't stop the
bleeding," she told him. She shuddered. "They aren't sure if he'll
live."
     
         "Good God."
     
         "David, maybe we should
go to a hotel," she said. "Get away from her."
     
         He frowned. "It can't
be that bad," he said.
He didn't sound convinced.
     
         "What about Val?"
she asked.
     
         "Val?"
     
         "He was up. He couldn't have been more up. So was
Charlie."
     
         He didn't want to succumb to
everything she said. "Honey, Val didn't remember some lines of dialogue,
that's all. He didn't—"
     
         "It was more than that
and you know it," she
countered. "He had a nervous breakdown right in front of us."
     
         "Liz, that's carrying
it a bit far. A nervous breakdown?"
     
         "I'd call it
that," she said. She winced. "Not to mention these goddamn
headaches."
     
         He drew in a fitful breath.
"Assuming she has. . .certain abilities. . .you angered her. Did Val? Did
Charlie?"
     
         "David, who knows what angers her?"
     
         He looked distressed, trying
to resist the implications of what had happened. "I just can't let myself
believe—" He broke off with a slight groan. "Move to a hotel?" he
said. "Maybe we should move to Canada."
     
         That brought a faint smile
to her lips despite the headache. "I'll go pack," she said.
     
         He smiled back and kissed
her on the forehead. She winced and pressed her right hand to the top of her
head.
     
         "This