“There’s nothing to discuss,” Jon finally said, sounding tired. He shifted and started to stand up but then sank back into the chair and sighed. “We did what we did. It’s done. We can’t go back and redo it.”
“I know we can’t, but—” Kiera said as shivers coursed up and down her spine. “I . . .” She took a shuddering breath and held it, fighting back the panic that was rising inside her. “Do you believe in ghosts?”
Jon frowned at her, a half smile playing across his lips as though he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. When Kiera didn’t say anything more, he tipped his head back and, looking at the ceiling, stroked his chin.
“Ghosts . . .” he said, his voice soft and low.
Kiera nodded. She wanted so much for him to understand and sympathize with what she was going through.
“Are you saying—” Jon’s voice cut off as he leaned forward, gazing at her with a cold, harsh light in his eyes. “You’re not going to tell me you’ve been seeing Billy Carroll’s ghost, are you?”
Hearing him say it so bluntly, Kiera couldn’t help but think how foolish she sounded . . . if not downright crazy.
“I’m not losing my mind. Honest. I’m not,” she said, but even she wasn’t convinced because of the shrill whine in her voice. “But I can feel something close by. Like . . . I don’t know what it is, but I’ve been getting this creepy feeling, like someone’s watching me.”
Jon leaned back and shook his head.
“You don’t think this might have anything to do with what you’ve just been through recently?” He paused, letting that sink in. “You just had brain surgery, for Christ’s sake. You don’t think this . . . this feeling might have something to do with that?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure of anything anymore,” Kiera said with a quick shake of the head. “I can’t help but think that maybe the tumor was making me see things that—”
“Exactly!” Jon practically shouted. “Nate told me it had been pressing on your optic nerve.”
“Yeah, but . . . I think maybe I was seeing things that are really there . . . Things that have been here all along, but I wasn’t able to see them clearly until now. It’s like . . . like now that they’ve taken this thing out of my head, it opened something up. It set something free. I don’t feel like myself anymore. I’m not even sure who I am—or was—in the first place. It’s really scary.”
“I can imagine,” Jon said.
For a long time, neither of them spoke. Now that she had said it, Kiera wished she could take it back. Jon and everyone else was going to think she was losing her sanity, and she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe the doctor had missed some of the growth. Maybe there was still a piece of it in her brain, making her see and imagine things that weren’t real. But they certainly felt real. In ways, they were more real than what she used to take for reality.
“So what makes you think this has anything to do with Billy?” Jon finally asked.
There was an odd detachment in his voice and manner that Kiera found unsettling. This wasn’t the Jon O’Keefe she knew as a friend and confidant. She had been so happy to reconnect with him when he first moved back to Stratford, but now she wasn’t so sure. He seemed so cold to her.
“You don’t think it’s just your imagination or maybe a side effect of the operation or the meds you’re on?”
Kiera thought about that for a moment but then shook her head and said, “I don’t know.” She paused, then added, “No. It’s real. And even if it’s not Billy, something is haunting me. I’ve even imagined a couple of times—no! I didn’t imagine it. It was real.” She swallowed hard. “I saw myself.” John didn’t say a word. “I’ve even had conversations with myself.”
The expression on Jon’s face was bothering her. She could see that he was becoming genuinely worried about her mental health.
And why wouldn’t he?
What she was saying was seriously delusional if not downright psychotic. Maybe the tumor or the surgery or the medications had damaged her brain more than she or the doctors realized.
“Look,” Jon finally said, leaning toward her and taking her hand in his. “You’ve got to get some rest so you’ll get better. You were so worried about what would happen, I’m sure you imagined a lot of things. But whatever it is, you have to let it go about Billy. That was so long ago.”
Jon froze and cast an anxious glance over his shoulder when someone walked by in the corridor. Lowering his voice, he leaned even closer to Kiera in the bed.
“I never meant to kill him,” he whispered. “You know that. And I think Billy knew it. It was a fucking accident! If I could go back to that night, don’t you think I’d change it?”
“Of course you would,” Kiera said in a strained whisper.
“We did what we had to do, and like we agreed at the time, we both have to live with it.” He lowered his gaze and shook his head, obviously moved. “Maybe our decision wasn’t the best one. We were young and scared. But believe me, I think about it more than you could know, but we can never go back and redo it. Never!” He wiped the sweat from his face. “There’s no statute of limitations on murder, Kiera, so if we report what happened, even thirty years later, the police will charge me—charge us with murder. It will ruin both our lives.”
“It already has,” Kiera said, unable to keep the desperate edge out of her voice. “Living with the guilt has screwed me up so bad it’s hurting my marriage and my relationship to my daughter and friends. It’s ruined my life.”
Jon squeezed her hand so tightly she winced. His face had gone pale, and his bloodshot eyes were wide with fear.
“If you’re having any trouble now,” he said, “even if you’re seeing things—ghosts or whatever—it has nothing to do with what happened back then. Trust me.”
“You’re hurting my hand,” Kiera said, but Jon didn’t let go or ease his grip. If anything, he tightened it all the more as he brought his face so close to hers she could smell his aftershave and feel the warmth of his breath on her skin.
“Forget all about what happened that night. Please,” he said in a deep, grating whisper. “It’s over and done with. We can’t bring Billy back—even as a ghost, but if you talk about this to anyone now, it will definitely destroy us—both of us.”
Kiera stared into his eyes and, for a terrifying instant, thought he was going to move close enough to kiss her; but after a tense moment, he let go of her hand and collapsed back in the chair. His face was shining with sweat, and his eyes had an empty glaze that genuinely unnerved her. He didn’t look at all like the friend she knew. He looked like a man teetering on the brink of insanity. She told herself it was because of the grief he felt over his wife’s death, but it seemed somehow more.
“Something’s happening here.” Kiera’s voice shattered the silence like it was crystal. “I don’t know what. I don’t know if I’ll ever understand it, but I have to try. If I don’t, I know it will drive me crazy.”
Covering his face with both hands, Jon leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and let out a loud, racking sob. His shoulders heaved violently. After a long time sobbing, he looked up at her, his cheeks glistening with tears.
“I’m so sorry,” he said in a shattered voice. “I . . . I didn’t mean . . . any of that. I—I just don’t know what I’m going to do now that . . . now that Liz is—” His voice choked off, and all he could do was start crying again. Kiera didn’t have the strength to sit up, but she reached out and touched his hand.
“It will all be all right,” she whispered.
“What in the world am I going to do?” he asked, staring at her with wide, shining eyes. Without warning, he lunged forward and embraced her, holding her so tightly she almost couldn’t breathe. His body was trembling as he cried into her shoulder. Kiera could do nothing but hold on to him and soothe him as best she could while he let out all of the grief that was pent up inside him.
“It will all be all right,” she kept repeating, but even as she sai
d it, she felt it wasn’t true. As much as she was going to miss Liz and as badly as she felt for Jon’s terrible loss, she could tell that something else . . . some much worse tragedy was lurking close by.
So far, it was unknown and unseen, but from the gnawing coldness in her stomach, Kiera knew that whatever it was, it wasn’t going to remain unseen and unknown very much longer.
CHAPTER 7
Shadow and Light
1
Three days later, on an unusually warm September morning, Kiera was released from the hospital. After teaching for two days, Nate took the day off to bring her home and help her get settled.
The leaves on the trees were just starting to change color, and the snappy, fresh smell in the air filled her with exhilaration and hope when she walked out of the hospital.
“It feels so . . . weird,” she said, looking around as Nate took hold of her hand to help her out of the wheelchair he’d used to roll her out the front door. “I can’t believe it’s been only—What? A week?” She shook her head. “It feels like a lifetime.”
Nate didn’t say a word before he rolled the wheelchair back inside the hospital door where an aide took it.
“I can imagine,” he said when he came back. “You okay?”
Kiera blinked as she looked at the arc of blue sky, so bright it hurt her eyes. The last few days had been overcast, and she took this gorgeous day as a good omen. On the horizon, puffy white clouds moved slowly by, heading east, out over the ocean. From the trees nearby, a blue jay called out its raucous song, and squirrels scurried among the branches whose leaves were veined with bright red and yellow.
“I feel a little weak, actually,” Kiera said, stretching out her arms for balance. The world was spinning, and she swayed from side to side. She couldn’t suppress a surge of resentment when she had to lean on Nate for support.
She had done a lot of thinking over the last several days, and she thought she had some perspective on a lot of things now . . . not just what she had talked to Jon about when he had visited. The truth was, she questioned if he had really been there. She recalled a curious distance between them during the encounter, and she was more than half convinced she had imagined the whole thing.
One thing she could finally admit to herself—after all these years—was that her marriage was in serious trouble. It might be at the point where, if she wanted to save it, she was going to have to do something drastic, and soon.
The problem was, after so many days with a lot of time to think about everything that was wrong—and right—about her relationship with Nate, she didn’t know what she should do about it. Even as simple a thing as how much time Nate had spent with her while she was in the hospital rankled her. If they were truly together, she should have been happy to have him there. But his presence irritated her, and when he wasn’t around, all she could think was he was with someone else.
And what about Trista?
For the three days she had been in the hospital, Kiera had barely thought about her daughter. It pained her to feel so alienated from her own flesh and blood, and she would tear up any time she thought about how close they used to be. In many ways, it felt as if Trista was someone else’s daughter, not hers. The disconnect between them was frightening . . . and terribly sad, but—like the distance between her and Nate—this, too, seemed so inevitable there wasn’t a thing she could about it.
Is that it, then? she wondered as they started down the hospital steps and across the street to the car. We just quit? . . . I give up?
The thought made her stomach ache. She wished she didn’t feel so feeble, but that was normal, after lying in bed so long. Once she got home, she told herself, once she settled in and started feeling better, things would get back to normal.
But that’s what frightened her.
Normal was Nate and her barely relating to each other anymore. Normal was arguing with Trista until one of them—usually Trista—got so angry she stormed off, slamming doors behind her. Normal was everything that was making her feel so useless she might even be seeing and talking to people who weren’t there. Her stay at the hospital already had a dreamy cast to it, making her wonder who of the people she had seen and talked were real, and who were not.
What if I’m seeing ghosts?
In spite of the warm day, her blood turned cold at the thought. When people died, and they weren’t ready for it, they supposedly lingered where they had died, haunting the place. If that was true, the hospital should be filled to overflowing with restless spirits who hadn’t moved on yet.
Kiera was shaken from her reverie when Nate moved quickly to unlock the passenger’s door and help her into the front seat. Once she was settled, he walked around the car to the driver’s side and got in. Kiera watched everything he did with a dreamy detachment.
“You feel like you could eat?” Nate asked. He barely turned to look at her as he started up the car. “I was thinking we could stop for breakfast along the way.” Before she answered, he shifted into reverse and backed out of the parking space.
Kiera was silent as she parsed every word he’d spoken, trying to assemble them into some meaningful pattern, but her mind felt like an untethered helium balloon that was swaying slowly back and forth as it rose into the sky. The sensation of floating and falling at the same time made her close her eyes.
“Not such a great idea, huh?” Nate said.
His voice sounded thin and distant, like he wasn’t in the car. Kiera shook her head no while fighting against the vertigo that gripped her. When Nate took the right-hand turn out of the parking lot, she clutched the door handle like it was a lifeline.
They didn’t speak for much of the drive home. Kiera knew Nate was being respectful of how she was feeling, but she couldn’t help but feel isolated and a little angry that he didn’t at least try to connect.
“So what’s been happening in the real world while I was away?” she asked.
She was leaning her head against the side window and still had her eyes closed. The sense of motion wasn’t quite so bad now, but she imagined she was still a balloon, floating above the road.
Nate started to reply, then stopped himself. His hesitation caught Kiera’s attention. She opened her eyes and looked at him. His figure was gauzy and out of focus, with the landscape slipping past his window behind him.
“What is it—?” she asked, knowing he was holding back on her.
It wasn’t until Nate slowed down and stopped for a stop-light that he looked at her, a terribly pained expression in his eyes.
“I don’t know if I should tell you or not.”
Cold gripped her gut.
“Is it Trista? . . . Something’s happened to Trista?”
The surge of panic became an icy ball in her stomach. It was all too easy to imagine scores of terrible things that might have happened to her daughter—a car accident . . . an overdose . . . pregnancy . . . suicide. Her heart seemed to stop as she waited for Nate to reply.
“No. No. Trista’s fine.” He flashed a tight smile. “As grumpy and alienated as ever, but—” The light turned green, and he accelerated through the intersection without looking at her. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but Liz’s funeral is this afternoon.”
“Oh my God,” Kiera whispered. She felt suddenly deflated as she stared at the road ahead. Tears filled her eyes. For a while, she had forgotten that her friend had died. “I . . . I never even thought . . .” Her voice drifted away as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“You had your own stuff to deal with.” Nate reached out and clasped her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Kiera thought her hand felt like a dead fish in his grip . . . cold . . . lifeless . . .
“We have to go,” she said, once she gained a measure of control.
Nate took a deep breath and held it for a second, then let it out slowly, and said, “You don’t have to, you know.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You think it’s a good idea?”
Kiera loo
ked at him in amazement. How can he think for even a millisecond that I wouldn’t go to the funeral of one of my best friends?
“You’ve still got a long recovery ahead of you,” he said. “I’m sure Jon would understand if you called and told him you couldn’t make it.”
But Kiera wouldn’t consider not going, even for a second. She had to be there if only to give whatever comfort and support she could to Jon. They went back too far. She couldn’t let him down when he needed her most.
“I won’t discuss it.” Kiera’s voice was flat and icy. “We’re going. What time is it?”
Nate hesitated, then sighed and said, “One o’clock at St. Paul’s.”
Kiera raised her hand to her forehead and ran her fingertips over the bandage. She would feel self-conscious, showing up in public with her head bandaged and still feeling so out of it from the medication, but she knew she had to be there.
“We’ve got plenty of time to get ready,” she said.
“I was planning to go back to school once you were set at home.”
Nate still looked like he was keeping something from her. The anger Kiera was feeling fanned higher.
“You expect me to drive to the funeral myself?”
Nate shook his head. “No. No. Truth is, I didn’t think you’d go.”
“Because you weren’t going to mention it.” Her face was flushed with anger. “What were you thinking, you’d get me tucked in all safe and sound at home and conveniently forget to mention the funeral until it was too late, like it was something that just slipped your mind?”
“No. Nothing like that.” Nate was sounding really defensive now. His knuckles turned white as he squeezed the steering wheel, and the muscles in his jaw tensed and untensed.
“If you really have to go back to school, I can drive, you know.”
“The doctor said you aren’t supposed to for a couple of weeks.”
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