Now he was trapped in the most deafening silence he’d ever experienced. He was descending to hell, and he knew his punishment was this soundless chasm.
Then a muffled splash came from behind him.
In the stillness, it sounded like a boulder slapping against mud. A pale light began to shine, coming closer, thinning the darkness and growing brighter by the second. His eyes quickly began to hurt looking at it. He needed to turn away, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He clamped them shut. The light was still there on the other side of his lids, and now it was searing. He could do nothing to block it. A drum began piercing his ears. Sluggishly, it beat. Bwoom. A pause. Then bwoom, again. It slowly picked up speed, growing to a rapid thump.
He jerked back as if on a roller coaster that had just passed over the incline. His stomach seemed to be in his throat. Then as quickly as he’d begun his flight, he abruptly stopped. Jarred. His bearings, rattled and shaken, began to settle. He could feel his arms, his legs. The drumming, he realized, was coming from his chest.
Heartbeat?
He was freezing.
Then he felt a gentle, yet firm grip under his arms. His body began to warm where the hands held him, then slowly the heat traveled through his body as he started to rise.
He rose higher and higher. He felt as if he were flying through the murkiness. Quickly soaring to the top, he wondered how, and when, and if he would stop. Where would he be once he did? For a reason he couldn’t rationalize, he wasn’t scared anymore. In fact, he felt relaxed, peaceful. Somehow, he knew he would be all right.
His speed accelerated to a blur.
Then he lunged out of the water, splashing bloodied streams everywhere. He was back in the bathroom, back in the tub. He drooped over the edge, resting his chin on the side. It was cold and wet against his skin. Coughing. Regurgitating water onto the floor, his lungs burned, his chest ached. From the back of his head and through his shoulders to his back, felt as if they had been pounded with a tack hammer.
Keeping his head still, he tried to settle his stomach. It didn’t work. He hung his mouth over the side of the tub and vomited onto the floor. He came back, sluggishly rubbing the thick saliva from his lips against the tub. When he was done, David looked around the room. His sight was hazed, foggy. But he could see enough.
He could see—her.
She stood over him magically, looking down. She wore a white gown. Flowing and long, it brushed the tops of her delicate ankles. Her feet were bare. Her jet-black hair was lengthy, draping over the shapely mounds of her breasts. Her skin was the color of snow, and looked just as soft.
Her face was bleached in a blinding glow so intense, David couldn’t distinguish the features. Deep inside, he knew the face behind the light was the most beautiful face he could ever see. He ached to have just one peek. He craved to live, not just for him, but for her, too.
The tender form leaned over. She glided a hand delicately across his cheek. The feel of her was tepid. Radiant, exploding with a gentleness he’d always desired, but had never been blessed to have.
Live for me…
A voice, distant and static, echoed somewhere deep in his mind, but yet was so clear.
“I-I can’t…” he said back, “I’m dying…”
Love…you…me… Farther away now, he could barely hear it, but the message was evident. The reverberation was intense; his brain pulsated with the meaning. Love. He needed to survive for the love.
“Don’t go…” he pleaded. “Stay with me…”
The door burst open, crashing through the obscure haze of her body like smoke. She was gone as another voice shrieked through the tight room. This one was different. Not angelic, but human.
“David!”
“S-Sam?” he asked, sounding like she’d found him hugging the toilet after a late night of bar-hopping.
“My God, David! What happened?” Her tone was frantic, choking through sobs.
Samantha Corban dropped to her knees and crawled to the tub. Clutching her cell phone in one hand, she reached around the back of his neck with the other. Their faces were touching. She pressed her forehead to his.
“You’re going to be okay, I promise! I’m calling an ambulance.”
“No…wait…” His gaze darted over the room anxiously. He searched for her, but she was gone. Vanished.
Sam dialed 911 on her phone and pulled him tighter against her as she worked herself up to the ledge around the tub. Her knees squished and slid in his vomit, but she didn’t seem to care. She hardly seemed to notice it was there at all. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.” She broke down, her promises turning to hysterical cries. “David, why?” She could no longer form complete sentences, just asthmatic sobs.
David could smell the dynamic odor of disinfectant from the hospital on Sam’s clothes. She was still wearing her white scrubs; her long, sand-colored hair was tucked neatly in a bun behind her head.
As Sam begged the operator to send help, he began to wonder if Sam had been the one he’d actually seen. Had his mind whipped up an image that really wasn’t there? Could be, but he doubted it. Sam felt different, looked different, and made him feel different. Not at all like her.
Entrapped by Sam’s trembling arms, David heard the soft, melodious voice again.
David…live for me…
Chapter Two
“You just have to be there, dear. It wouldn’t be Christmas without you.” From the other end of the phone, Carol Barker’s voice was distorted, but demanding.
Sam Corban sighed. Carol wasn’t going to let her off the hook so easily. “Are you sure that would be a good idea?” she asked.
“Oh, please. I know my son. He’d want nothing more than for you to be there. David’s just too stubborn to ask you himself.”
Sam thought about it. Carol was right—sort of. David was too stubborn to ask, but she still wasn’t convinced that he might actually want her there. She hadn’t spoken a word to him since he had been released from the Saint Garberina’s Sanatorium on Halloween. And now Christmas was just three days away. If she accepted Carol’s invite for dinner at the Barkers’, she wouldn’t be able to avoid seeing David.
In the flesh.
They’d be in the same room.
Oh, shit.
Swallowing down the anxiety, she decided that maybe sucking it up and going wouldn’t be so bad. Her family wouldn’t be doing anything spectacular. They’d stopped celebrating the holiday years back when Sam was sixteen. Her father, inebriated on a combination of vodka and eggnog, attacked her mother in front of the tree. It took her two uncles and grandfather—who was pounding him with his oxygen tank—to get him away from her unconscious mother. Since that event, Christmas no longer existed to her. Until she’d met David, the holiday had no longer mattered.
Ms. Barker—Carol to you, thank you—was a Christmas aficionado. She took the holiday incredibly seriously. From the decorations to the presents, and even going so far as to sing along to every holiday song on the radio, of which were many, and she knew them all. She adored Christmas and all that came with it.
“Okay,” Sam said finally. “I’ll pop in. It’d be fun to see everyone again.” That much was true. It would be fun to see them all. But still, she was fraught with anxiety about what to do about David.
Carol rejoiced loudly in Sam’s ear. “Yay! Oh dear, that is just swell! I’m looking forward to it already. Now remember, Christmas Day at six. David has to work Christmas Eve so we have to wait until then. Sound good?”
“Perfect,” she lied. Didn’t sound great, but not necessarily appalling either. As nerve-wracking as it might be, there was no way it could be any worse than seeing her father cold-cock her mother across the jaw while wearing a festive green sweater.
Sam politely listened to Carol as she brought her up to speed on all the latest tidbits in her world for a few more minutes. After hanging up the phone, Sam quickly went to the bathroom and empt
ied her bladder. She’d been holding it the whole time. Her lower back felt as if it were being squeezed in a vise. Sitting on the toilet, pants and panties around her ankles, she began to regret telling Carol she would come to dinner.
I could call and cancel, she thought.
Bullshit. Carol would never allow it.
Sam tore three squares off the toilet-paper roll. She folded them over and wiped. Then she stood, pulled up her pants, and latched her belt.
She felt much better. And lighter.
On her way out, Sam stopped at the mirror. Her eyes looked heavy, with puffy, swollen patches lumped underneath. Mumps of the eyes, she thought and smirked. Since finding David that night, she’d hardly had a good night’s sleep. Nearly every night she’d wake drenched in sweat from a recurrence of those plagued memories. These days she’d only sleep when her body absolutely forced her to.
She asked herself, I wonder what David will think when he sees me. Then answered back with, Probably that you need to get some damn rest,and you look like hell.
She opened the medicine cabinet, examining the rows of makeup. Nothing a little touchup work couldn’t fix.
Yeah, that’s just what David wants to see. Me like a whore, clowned up in my street’s finest. Thanks, but no thanks.
She frowned.
Her eyes were the least of her worries. She’d need to find something dynamic to wear. Sexy, without being slutty, and tight, but not clinging.
A soldier on a mission, she marched out to her closet. She flung the double doors open, swiftly sorting through her wardrobe hanging on plastic hangers from a pole like slabs of beef in a meat locker. From left to right, she slid dresses, skirts, and suits out of the way. She grabbed a dress, examined it, then tossed it. It was short, and a slit up the side showed most, if not all, of her leg. The front was low and exposed way too much cleavage. Actually, having looked at what she owned, she realized most of her outfits were on the seductive side. She wanted to win David back, sure, not give him a boner at the dinner table. Smiling, she thought that by doing that, her night might end up being exciting, not to mention quite satisfying indeed.
Just win him over with your charming personality, she told herself.
And smirked.
Right.
Discouraged, she decided a trip to the mall was in order. A new outfit for a new beginning was just what she needed. But being so close to Christmas she’d have to fight those angry mobs of shoppers and the brutality of holiday traffic.
It’s worth it.
The hope of having David back was well worth all that punishment, and so much more.
Chapter Three
Sam relaxed in the recliner across from the fireplace, wearing a tight blue sweater and brown pants that fit snug around her rump and loose down her legs. The outfit wouldn’t have been her choice on any other occasion, but that was all the store had in stock. She took it without fussing, though she was screaming inside.
The logs popped and crackled as the flames licked them. She leaned closer and rubbed her hands together as if washing them in the heat.
The day had been long, and it didn’t seem to be getting any shorter. Waiting for the reunion with David had been like waiting for a sick pet to die. Excruciating. Painful. She’d been anticipating this day so greatly that when she woke this morning it actually felt like Christmas for the first time since she was seven. She’d imagined finding David under her Christmas tree wrapped neat in a big red bow.
Yes Samantha, there is a Santa Claus.
She could only dream.
Sam looked at Amber, standing in front of the Christmas tree as she combed it for a place to hang the homemade ornament she held in her hand.
Frowning, Amber shook her head. “This bites.”
It was uncanny to Sam how much she resembled David. He was her brother after all, so she shouldn’t have been surprised, but she was. Their features were nearly identical, but Amber filled out in areas that David did not. Her black sweater nuzzled her back, stomach, and taut breasts. Her hips sloped in her tight, black jeans.
Stealing a peek over her shoulder, she spotted Sam observing her torment of having to deal with the ornament, the tree, and the perfect place to join them together.
Sam quickly looked away as if she’d been caught spying on her through a window.
Amber sighed and said, “Every year since I was three, I’ve had to hang this damn ornament.”
“Well,” said Sam, “it’s your mother’s tradition. You should be used to it by now.”
“You’d think I would be, but nope.” Amber groaned.
Sam pointed at the mantle. “I see she still has my stocking hanging up.”
Above the fireplace hung four stockings. One for Amber, one for Carol, and on the end like cozy lovers were David and Sam’s.
Amber smirked. “Of course she does. Mom invited you to dinner, didn’t she? In her mind, she feels that even though you and my brother aren’t together anymore, you still belong up there.”
Sam’s cheeks reddened. “Yeah…thank you.”
“Mom said it, not me.” Her mock annoyance turned grim. The light smile on her face had straightened to a thin line.
“Oh…right.” Sam looked down at her hands, fidgeting with her fingers nervously. Her skin was pale with worry.
Amber studied her a moment before asking, “What’s up?”
“What do you mean?”
“Something’s on your mind. What is it?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, guess I’m just nervous.”
“I can tell. Is it because David’s coming?”
A tingle shot through Sam’s gut at the mention. David will be here. The thought made Sam even more anxious. Finally, she spoke. “Yeah, this is the first Christmas since David’s um—incident—and the first time I’ve seen him since he left the hospital.”
Sam glanced back at the fire, saw it was dwindling to a spark, and grabbed the poker. She stabbed it into the ash. Poked and prodded the scorched log. At last the flame came to life, probably for the last time.
She could sense Amber watching her the way someone would watch a dumb animal trying to lick the remaining taste of food from its empty bowl. “Look, I know my brother better than anyone. And I mean anyone. Even if he doesn’t show it, I’m sure he’s gonna be glad that you’re here.”
Sam returned the poker to the stand, then grabbed her nearly empty coffee mug from the end table. “I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable, you know.” She gulped down the last few drops, licked her lips, and wished there was more in the cup.
“I’m sure you won’t have to worry about that. He’ll already be as uncomfortable as you, as me, and even my clueless mother.”
“Is that the reason your mom demanded that I be here tonight? To try and get us back together?”
Amber shrugged. “I don’t know. She does dumb things without thinking all the time. So, very well could be.”
“You sound less than thrilled at the possibility.”
“Is it that obvious?”
Sam felt that one below the belt like a cheap punch.
Amber turned back to the tree. “I’ll tell you this, though, whatever happens tonight,happens. I can’t do a thing about it. But if you hurt David again, in any way, I’ll make sure no one finds your body. Got me?”
The expression on her face showed she wasn’t joking. Everything she’d just declared had been the honest truth. Blunt and to the point. If Sam hurt David, Amber hurt Sam. End of story.
An eye for an eye.
“Yes,” Sam said, “I’ve got you. And I won’t.”
Amber put on a hangdog smile. “Good.” Her hazardous gaze faded. Then she winked.
As Amber’s attention returned to the tree, Sam sat wishing she could sneak out the back door. It was possible, but what would she do if she happened to bump into David outside?
Lie.
Oh, hi David—yeah, it’s been a long tim
e. Am I leaving? Yeah. No, nothing’s wrong. But don’t tell anyone you saw me out here, especially Amber, definitely don’t mention any of this to her. Why? Well, she put me in my place, threatened me, even scared me a little. You understand, right? She can be pretty intimidating. It was good seeing you, too. Maybe we can catch up sometime. You’ll call me? Sounds great.
He wouldn’t call.
Sam sighed. No way could she do that. She was staying right there.
Trying to sway her thoughts, she combed the room. Carol had gone all out this year with the decorations. The tree stood a good two feet taller than Amber. Presents were piled underneath and all around it like contributions at a shrine. Lights hung on nails across the mantel while lighted candles flickered on top. Glass figurines and knick-knacks were spread all about the room. Jammed in every corner there seemed to be a display regarding some sort of Christmas celebration in porcelain, towns and tiny people grouped together in various poses of holiday rejoicing.
It was sickening, really. Sam hated all of it. She felt awful thinking that way, but this year especially she couldn’t help it. And after Amber’s lashing and insults, all the little painted eyes on porcelain bodies seemed to be gawking at her. Making her feel even more uncomfortable than she already had been.
Giving up, Amber shrugged, letting out a sigh. She settled for a place nowhere special and hung the ornament at the tip of a branch. “There.” She stepped back. “What do you think?” She held her arms out as if she were presenting a prize.
Sam pursed her lips. She wasn’t impressed by the ornament. It had lost most of its cuteness over the years. The paint was splotchy and faded, done by Amber when she was a child. Her name stretched the length of the thin, wooden sleigh in red.
She nodded, pretending that she approved, but wondering why her opinion mattered.
Amber returned a nod. “It’s not the Plaza, but it’ll do, right?”
Angel Board Page 2
