by V.
“Like in a theater?”
“No. It simply played before me. It felt as if I were the camera, and the story played before my eyes only for me. I could watch the images on the screen and also hear—no.. .no.. .not hear, sense the words on each page of the screenplay as they described what I visualized. Words and images in tandem, showing the film on the screen of my mind.”
“No kidding, words and images at the same time. What’s it about?”
“It takes place in the summer, or close to summer. The year appears to be 1976.”
“1976? Where? Here?”
“No. It didn’t look like our Cascades, although it showed a stunning landscape of dense woods and a huge lake.
“How about back where you grew up near Boston?”
She shook her head. “No. It’s set in a small town called Amaray. I suspect it’s a made-up place somewhere in an idealized Midwest.”
“That’s lots of specifics, considering you tuned out for such a short time. That’s a new one for you.”
“New one?”
“Playing a movie in your head. It was photos last time.”
“You think someone is communicating with me like Angela did?” Conrad shrugged. “What else could it be?”
“Perhaps it’s my imagination.”
“It’s possible.” He rose and carried his plate to the kitchen sink.
“Don’t bother washing the dishes. I’ll do it,” Sarah said distractedly. “You don’t believe it’s my imagination do you?”
Conrad turned toward Sarah. “No. You disconnected. Completely. I’ve seen that look before. Something, or someone, pulled you away.” He nodded toward Sarah’s empty plate and she handed it to him.
Sarah cleared the table and joined him at the sink. “You’ve never told me I glazed over.”
“I figured you were aware of it,” he said, as he rinsed a coffee cup. “Conrad, for crying out loud, how could I be, if I’m elsewhere?”
He nodded as he dried his hands. “You’ve got a point there. Anyway, you used to get that same look when you stared at the old photos from the attic, as if you’d gone somewhere else.”
“Wow.” Sarah crinkled her brow.
Conrad smiled and embraced his wife. “Nothing to worry about. You simply need to figure out the meaning of it.” He gazed into her eyes. “It is rather curious, though. First, there’s this guy you found, and now, out of nowhere there’s this movie. I’d say you’ve stumbled upon a new puzzle to piece together.”
Sarah took the towel from him and reached behind him to dry one of the dishes. “How can you be so cavalier about this?”
“Cavalier? Wow, fancy word, Madam Teacher.” He chuckled, but the look of concern on Sarah’s face demanded serious attention. “Listen, don’t let yourself get all worked up over this. The fact is you’re a psychic. Like it or not, that’s who you are. You have a remarkable gift, and now it would appear someone is in need of your help. Simple as that.”
Sarah dropped the towel, then plopped onto a nearby chair and sighed. “You’re certainly more comfortable than I am with this blasted gift of mine.” Conrad drew close and caressed her hair. “C’mon, Sarah, there’s no question it’s a gift.”
She smiled at her husband. For a tall, rugged man, her husband’s touch was always gentle. “Anyway, what were you saying when I glazed over?”
“I’d asked if you were going to the hospital to visit him. Your reaction suggests that he and the movie may have something in common. In any case, you’re going to try to lend a hand.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Oh, call it an educated guess. That’s who you are. You did run out in the middle of a storm to save him, didn’t you?”
She nodded.
“There you have it.” He looked sternly into her eyes. “All I ask is that you be careful. This man’s alive, so it’s not like my grandmother’s ghosts. So use caution until you learn a lot more about whatever or whoever is playing this movie in your head.”
Sarah heaved a deep sigh and shook her head. “It’s confusing.”
“That’s exactly my point. C’mon, walk me to the door.” Conrad made his way out of the kitchen and down the hall.
She followed.
He snatched his sheepskin coat from the wooden rack by the door. “You’ll figure it out in time.” He lifted her face to his and smiled. “Whatever you do, don’t rush into anything.”
“How you can be so at ease with this?” Sarah helped him on with his coat.
“I grew up aware that Grandma had a sixth sense, and whenever she got that same glazed look, we all knew she’d be doing something for someone.”
“You never told me that’s what she did.” She handed him his hat.
He leaned in to kiss her. “It’s not something I find strange or unusual.” He lifted her chin toward him. “The only difference is that she’d managed it all her life. You, on the other hand, are just getting reacquainted with it. So don’t do anything rash, like driving over the mountains in the middle of the night.”
“I promise.”
“I take it you’ll be going to the hospital,” he said as he stepped onto the porch.
Sarah grabbed her coat and followed him. “Yes, earlier rather than later.”
“I’d prefer you stay home. The man isn’t going anywhere. He’ll be in the hospital for a while.”
“I have to go.. .I need to go,” she said, pulling on her coat.
“I figured as much,” he said, shaking his head. “Make sure you call me when you get there, and again when you’re on your way home. Those icy roads are treacherous and I need to know you’re safe.”
“I will. You expect a busy day at the store?” she asked, caressing his hair.
“No, it’s too cold, and folks—prudent folks, that is—don’t like driving in this much snow and ice.” He smiled and kissed her. “If you keep doing that, I won’t be able to leave.”
She laughed. “It’s the salt and pepper around your temples. You look so debonair.”
“There you go again with the fancy words, Madam Teacher, but flattery won’t work.” He kissed her again. “I’d go with you, but Tom has arranged a phone conference with six of our suppliers.” He looked into her eyes. “You could stay home and wait for me.”
“The Cascades in winter are spectacular and—”
“Dangerous. Plus you’ll be going over the pass and down to Okanogan and—”
“It’s been plowed by now. I’ll be okay. Anyway—”
“I get it, I get it; you have to go.” Conrad said as he made his way down the porch steps.
“I’ll be careful. Please don’t worry. I’ll call you.”
“You’d better.” Conrad climbed into his truck and, with a wave, drove off through the crunching snow. Sarah remained on the porch as her unhappy husband crossed the small valley that encircled their home.
Back inside, she slid into her boots, grabbed her hat, gloves, and purse, locked the front door, and made her way through the snow to her car. She turned on the ignition and allowed the car to idle a few moments before turning the heater on.
“He’s right, Sarah,” she whispered, rubbing her gloved hands to keep them warm, “you shouldn’t be driving across the mountain pass in this weather. Why this irrational urge to help a total stranger?”
Moments later the movie resumed playing in her mind.
Amaray appeared as an all-American town right out of a postcard with its well-maintained pastel storefronts and a dash of red brick here and there.
Symmetrically pruned trees adorned the streets along with perfectly manicured flower blossoms in matching planters. Not a single piece of trash could be seen.
The Jeep came to a halt across the street from the country store. A cloud of cigarette smoke poured out through the passenger window.
The store, a renovated barn painted white with red-and-green trim, occupied an entire block. Barrels filled with fruit, vegetables, and knickknacks crowded the entrance.
Through the cigarette haze, the driver studied a handsome, freckle-faced fifteen-year-old boy with brown hair covered in natural blond streaks. Dressed in his Sunday best, he rode his bike in deliberate circles, keeping a watchful eye on the entrance to the country store, completely unaware that across the street the Jeep driver’s eyes followed him intently.
The stranger, an intense, alluring man in his late thirties, with penetrating charcoal eyes and thick, uncombed black hair, was attractive yet repellant in equal measure.
The driver’s eyes shifted as he spotted a beauty of fifteen emerging from the store, a bag of groceries wrapped in her arms. She was a perky little thing with an exquisite blossoming body and long blond hair blowing in the breeze.
Having also spotted her, the boy sped to catch up. He jumped off his bike and fell easily into step alongside the girl, the bike at his side.
“Hi,” he said, blushing.
She turned her sky-blue eyes on him. “Hi.”
He nodded toward the grocery bag. “Need any help?”
“No, thanks. I can manage.”
Through the filthy windshield, the stranger observed their interaction, then started the car, and followed slowly, at a safe distance.
“How do you like it?” the boy asked.
“What?” She looked at him. His deep-green eyes were kind and intelligent.
“Amaray. It’s been five months and three days since you moved in.”
She chuckled at his precision. “Oh, it’s okay, I guess.”
“Good.”
They continued to walk in awkward silence.
The man realized with amusement that the girl captivated the boy to such a degree that he had trouble speaking to her.
The boy turned to say something, but noticed the girl’s small round breasts as they gently rubbed against the grocery bag. His eyes widened; then he blushed and quickly averted his gaze.
The man followed the young couple onto a small street lined with white picket fences and houses set f lawlessly among impeccable landscaped lawns, trees, and f lower beds.
“Got any plans for the summer?” the boy asked at last.
“Plans?”
“Yeah, like going away somewhere or doing something.”
“Oh... No. Why would I leave when I just moved here?”
“I figured you might go to your grandparents or cousins or something like that for summer break.”
“Oh, right. No. Maybe.”
They strolled in silence, unaware of being followed.
“I was wondering.. .uh.. .we’re all going to catch a movie after the swim meet on Friday, and I was wondering if you’d like to.. .well.. .come along.” She turned to him with a quizzical look. “Friday? Let’s see.I have—” “Hey, if you’re busy—”
“Well, I—”
“Yeah, I figured you were. You’re pretty popular at school. I get it. No big deal. I mean.. .you should be busy. It’s Friday and.. .well.. .I get it.”
The girl turned away, biting her lip to keep from laughing.
Minutes later, they reached her house. She swung open the small gate in the picket fence, sauntered through, and kicked it closed behind her.
“Bye,” she said with an honest smile. When he didn’t respond, she turned and climbed the porch steps.
“What? Oh, uh. Bye.”
The boy sighed with frustration as she disappeared inside the house.
He jumped onto his bike, shaking his head, and raced past the Jeep, imitating himself. “No big deal.. .it’s Friday.. .you’re busy. What a dope!”
The stranger laughed out loud, unable to contain his amusement. Through the dirty windshield, he kept an eye on the boy as he sped away. Then the man scribbled something on a notepad as another cloud of smoke bounced off the windshield and flowed out the passenger window.
The image faded away.
“Oh, my God!” A dumbfounded Sarah sat in her car. She was parked in front of the hospital, the engine idling, her hands clamped to the steering wheel. “This isn’t right. How in God’s name did I get here? I can’t disconnect like this.”
She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, got out of the car, and made her way into the hospital.
After inquiring at the information desk, she went upstairs to the injured man’s room.
“I’ll be back tomorrow, and I can read the—” a woman was saying as she backed out of the room and bumped into Sarah. “Sorry, I should look where I’m going, especially walking backward. Hey,” she said with a broad smile, “you must be Mrs. Thompson.” She grabbed Sarah’s hand and shook it vigorously.
“Yes, I am. Please call me Sarah.”
“Very, very, nice to meet you. I’m Elisabeth Ralston, candy striper par excellence,” she said in a flurry.
Sarah couldn’t help but laugh.
Elisabeth appeared to be somewhat younger than Sarah, plump yet shapely, with vibrant azure eyes and a contagious smile. “It’s incredible that you were able to find him and save his life. He’s very lucky.”
“How is he?” Sarah whispered.
Elisabeth smiled and nodded toward him. “Ask him yourself; he’s awake.”
Sarah tiptoed over to the man’s bedside. He stared up at her. “Hi, I’m Sarah Thompson.”
“He knows all about you,” Elisabeth whispered from behind Sarah.
Sarah smiled. “Dr. Lawrence tells us you’ll be all right.”
The man tried to speak, but the swelling in his lips and face made it difficult to understand him.
“He said ‘thank you.’” Elisabeth translated.
Sarah turned to her in disbelief. “You can understand him?”
“Go figure.” Elisabeth smiled and took the man’s hand in hers.
The man tried to smile, but it became a grimace.
“Don’t smile,” Elisabeth told him. “It pulls the stitches.”
“Do you remember your name?” Sarah asked him.
He slowly shook his head.
“Here,” Elisabeth gave her the man’s hand.
Sarah took it in hers and felt him tighten his grip.
“That’s his way of saying thank you,” Elisabeth offered.
Sarah looked into the man’s face and smiled. “You must be in terrible pain now.”
The man shook his head and groaned.
“Meds.” Elisabeth nodded toward the drip going into the man’s arm. “Only hurts when he tries to laugh or move.”
“Ah,” Sarah smiled. “Well, soon you won’t need the medication, and when the shock wears off, I’m sure it’ll all come back to you.”
The man sighed.
“Elisabeth’s been reading to you?”
He nodded.
“I found this great old book about Daniel Boone,” Elisabeth said. “I love to read, so imagine how great it is for me to be able to spend my days reading to patients. The best volunteer work in the world.”
“I’m sure the patients appreciate it.”
“Sarah,” the man whispered.
“Yes, I’m here.” She leaned closer to him.
“Sarah,” he said again.
“Yes. Do you need something?”
“He likes saying your name. He’s been repeating it over and over and over,” Elisabeth clarified. “Maybe it’s his way of giving thanks for being alive.” Sarah tightened her grip on his hand. The man sighed, closed his eyes, and drifted off.
“He’s asleep,” Elisabeth whispered. She helped Sarah slip her hand out of his, walked her out of the room, and closed the door behind them.
“He’ll rest for a while now. It’ll help him recover faster. How about a cup of coffee?”
Sarah nodded.
“C’mon, there’s a coffee shop next to the lobby.”
“You’ve learned quite a bit about our mystery man, yet he’s been here less than a day.”
“I have, haven’t I? No idea why. I met him this morning when I did my thing.”
“Your thing?”
“As part of my r
outine with new patients, I introduce myself and ask them what they’d like for me to read to them and all that. But when I stepped in, Billy was leaving, and the poor man was all agitated, groaning, and moaning—”
“Billy?” Sara asked.
They had reached the stairwell and were about to make their way down when Elisabeth stopped and turned to Sarah. “Billy Williams, he’s the Sheriff.” She continued down the stairs. “You met him yesterday, he said.”
Sarah followed her. “I did.”
“Anyway, I grabbed the patient’s hands and started talking to him softly, like I used to do with my kids when they fell down or hurt themselves. He calmed down after a while, and we started talking. Or rather, I asked questions, and he nodded and moaned.”
“Did he tell you what happened to him?”
“No, poor guy, nothing about himself or the incident. He kept repeating your name, so I told him the little I’ve been told about what happened to him, how you found him, and how they brought him here. As he calmed down, we connected. Somehow I could understand his grunts most of the time. When I didn’t, well, I guessed. For whatever’s worth, the things I guessed could be wrong,” Elisabeth giggled as they entered the cafeteria.
Sarah poured herself a cup of coffee. “I’m glad he has you around. It must be quite frightening to find yourself in a hospital in such pain and not be able to remember anything at all. Not even who you are.”
Elisabeth poured herself a cup of hot chocolate. “I’ve been thinking about that as well. I can’t begin to imagine what that would be like.” She shuddered and took a sip of her chocolate. “Ah.. .I love hot cocoa.. .always does the trick. Let’s sit over there.” She nodded toward a table by the window overlooking a small snowed-in garden. “This little garden is beautiful in late spring, summer, and early autumn. It’s a great spot to read to my patients.”
“I can well imagine. Have you heard if Sheriff Williams has figured out what happened?”
“No, he’s looking into it. It’s funny to hear you call him Sheriff Williams. Everyone around here calls him Billy. I’m sure he’d prefer Sheriff Williams, but that’s what everyone called his daddy, and they can’t bring themselves to call Billy that. His daddy was a wonderful man. Everyone loved him. He is really missed.”
