Time was giving her some hope. If Jesse was still alive, he might make it. She knew the injury was serious. They wouldn’t have rushed him into surgery otherwise.
When he came out of the operating room and was put in intensive care, the doctor said Mr. Goddard and Karen could go in. They suggested everyone else go home. There was nothing they could do, and it was going to be a long night. Jesse was on his own now.
“Thanks for letting me stay, Mr. Goddard.” Karen accepted the cup of coffee Jesse’s dad handed her.
“Jesse will want you here when he wakes up, Karen, so I told the nurses you were family. Otherwise they’d have made you stay in the waiting room. I don’t know if he ever told you, but you mean a lot to Jesse. He loves you very much.”
“I love Jesse, Mr. Goddard. I haven’t gotten to know you very well, but I can see how he came to be so gentle and loving. I know you two are very close.”
“He’s all I have.” Mr. Goddard slumped into a chair and put his head in his hands.
Karen couldn’t think of anything to say to comfort him. She took a chair and pulled it up beside Jesse. He looked so helpless. He was all hooked up to tubes and bottles, his head wrapped in gauze, his face so pale. Why had she never noticed how long his eyelashes were? Because they were so blond, she guessed, as light as his hair.
Putting her head down on the sheets, she dozed a little. When she’d jerk awake, she’d feel guilty, but then she’d nod off again. Sometime in the night, Jesse stirred a little. A nurse came in, checked him, smiled at Karen, and disappeared, saying, “I’m sure your brother will be all right now. It just takes time.”
Karen smiled at the idea of her being Jesse’s sister. She kept hold of his hand. When he came to, she’d know it. He stirred again around two o’clock. She felt it immediately and came alert. His green eyes were on her. A faint smile played over his lips.
“Jesse,” she whispered and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back, then closed his eyes and slept.
She was able to cry at last. And when she had rid herself of fear by doing so, she slept again, still with her head on the cool sheets, her hair brushing Jesse’s leg under the covers.
He was reaching out to her. “Karen, I need you. Help me.” “I’m here.” She is stretching her hand to take his, but he backs away.
He pulls back the football, looking for her. He’ll pass her the ball. She has to run, take the ball and run for her life, run for Jesse’s life. This means so much to Jesse, this touchdown.
“Right here, Jesse, don’t you see me?” Words freeze in her mouth. She keeps screaming at him, but the words won’t come out. He can’t see her.
Suddenly a stomping noise behind her makes her spin around. A huge pack of tigers roar, rush at her. But they stand on hind legs and are dressed in football uniforms and helmets. She cringes, ducks down, but they aren’t after her. They’re after Jesse.
They leave her surrounded by dust. Through the haze, she can see Jesse trying to escape them. She watches him drop back, sidestep, weave this way and that. But there are too many of the tigers.
They roar and leap. She hears the sharp crack as they collide with Jesse. His body will never survive such a blow, she knows. He is doomed.
Taking off their helmets, the tigers beat Jesse. Over and over they pound with the heavy headgear, designed to protect, now used to kill.
Their leader, a tiger so dark he almost looks black, deals the final blow. Raising his helmet, which is solid ebony, he brings it down over Jesse’s head. She covers her ears, but she still hears the crack, like a sudden thunder clap.
Jesse’s head breaks into tiny pieces, like crisp bits of eggshell. The sharp, brittle shards fall to the ground, with musical tinkling sounds as they hit, like particles of ice falling from tree limbs after a storm.
The rest of his body follows. Soon he is a pile of dust at her feet. A football helmet sits atop the dust, like a marker. She looks up, sure some of the spectators saw what happened, sure they will come and help Jesse. Help her.
But they are on the field alone.
Her screaming woke her. Two nurses flew into the room at the same time, like swooping white eagles. They lit next to Jesse and thumped on his chest.
Karen backed up against one wall, placing her hands on it for support. A young doctor followed the nurses. They worked together, their highly starched uniforms cracking, hooking up more machines to Jesse.
Finally the medical team grew silent. They stopped shouting the strange medical phrases that would magically revive Jesse. Stopped talking about codes and injections of miracle drugs.
No one had to tell Karen what had happened. And before they could, she fled from the room. Ran down the hall and smack into Kerr’s arms.
He stopped her escape and held her close. “I’m sorry, Karen, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“He’s dead, Jesse’s dead. He can’t be dead, Kerr. He can’t be, but he is. I dreamed it. I saw it all.”
“I know, Karen. It’s all right. You’ll be all right.”
“No, I won’t, I’ll never be all right. Don’t you understand? Jesse is dead.” She pounded on his chest, fought him. He tried to control her.
“There was nothing you could do. You couldn’t help him.”
“I tried. I wanted to. I just stood there. They killed him.” Her knees folded. Kerr supported her.
“It was an accident, Karen. An accident.” Kerr kissed the top of her head and hugged her even closer. “I’m going to take you home, Karen. Do you hear me? I’m taking you home.”
“I can’t leave Jesse here.” She reached out for Jesse, wanting to hold him.
“You have to, Karen. We’re going home.”
The fog, the swirl of dust surrounded Karen again. She allowed Kerr to put on her coat and lead her out of the hospital. A blast of cold air hit her as they left the building and walked to the parking lot. But Karen didn’t feel she could get any colder, so it didn’t matter.
Kerr tucked her into the passenger seat of his Jeep. He wrapped a car robe around her, buckling the seat belt over it.
Karen bobbed back and forth a little, and sideways as they crunched patches of ice or lumps of snow that had thawed during the day and hardened with darkness.
The Jeep stopped. They must be home. Karen waited for Kerr to come and get her.
He unbuckled the belt and reached for the ice skates on the floor. He placed his hands on either side of her legs, turned her toward him. Tugging off her boots, he slipped each foot into a skate and laced the high-topped white shoes tightly. He put on his own skates, then lifted her down, into a drift of snow.
He led her across the short stretch of woods, through the dark trees that reached for her with bony limbs. He bent, slid under a low fence, reached over and lifted her as if she were a paper doll.
Taking her hand, he pulled her alongside him, their skates rasping over the ice. It was bumpy this far from the rink, but soon they reached the well-groomed ice, polished by hundreds of skaters the day before.
Soon they were flying over the silver skin, stretched taut over the dark water. Karen’s cap flew off and her hair streamed out behind her. Kerr’s hands captured both of hers, kept her steps matched to his. Around and around they glided, blades scraping in a silky rhythm.
On one level, Karen was aware of moving, aware of the crisp cold, the sharp wind biting into her skin where it was bare. She drew strength from her twin, let him guide her, become her shadow as they skated. On another level of her mind, she welcomed the numbness that protected her, iced her heart, made her a part of the frozen moonscape.
Chapter 8
I shouldn’t have done that. But it was such a temptation, such an opportunity, and it was done before I thought about it. I was afraid for a minute that I had destroyed her, too.
I would never harm Karen. She is so beautiful, so alive, so strong. I never expected her to go to pieces like she did.
As I sat there waiting, I looked around the room. So many people were
there, pulling for Jesse. I found I was envious of anyone having so many friends. I have never felt popular.
I’m sorry, Karen, I’m truly sorry. But I do feel the power. I like the power. It’s a new feeling for me. Now that I have tasted it, savored its rich flavor, I will keep it. It will make me truly alive. More alive than I’ve ever felt before.
The next morning, Karen fought waking up. She was tired, so tired. She had lain awake for hours, staring at the darkness. Not feeling anything but freezing numbness. Today she had to face the daylight, the cold reality of her life going on while Jesse’s had stopped.
She had barely stirred and sat up in bed, when Kerr knocked quietly, then came into her room before she could speak. Without saying a word, he took her robe from the closet, slipped it around her, and led her downstairs.
Placing her on one bench in the breakfast nook, he poured her coffee, creamed it, poured juice, brought a tray to her at the table, adding a plateful of sweet rolls as a centerpiece.
“Thanks, Kerr.” She sipped the coffee, glad for the bitter taste.
Her mother still in night clothes, came into the kitchen. “Sit down, Mom. I’ll pour you some coffee,” Kerr said.
“Karen, Kerr told me about Jesse. I’m sorry.” Her mother reached out and took her hand. It had been a long time since she had touched Karen. It was always Karen who hugged her.
Karen nodded, not able to speak. Tears welled into her eyes, blurring the table, the sparkling scene out the window, where water dripped from long, dagger-like icicles clinging to the gutters around the edge of the roof.
Kerr poured himself a cup of coffee and slid in beside his mother. “You’re strong, Karen. Much stronger than I am. If anything happened to you, I couldn’t keep living. But you could live without me. You’ll be able to handle this. I know you will.” He grasped her hand and squeezed it tight.
Karen appreciated Kerr’s words, was touched by his concern, but it was going to take more than words to make her accept Jesse’s death. She had nothing to say to either of them.
“Tell her, Mom. Tell Karen how strong she is. Tell us about how she was when we were little.”
Their mother loved to talk about them when they were babies and small children. She didn’t need much encouragement.
“Karen did everything first. She was the first to walk. But she wouldn’t leave you behind, Kerr. She made you walk. She kept reaching out to you, jabbering, waving her hand at you, until you took that first step. As soon as you saw you could do it, you did. Then you followed her everywhere.”
Kerr laughed in delight. He put his arm around his mother. “What else?”
“She talked a blue streak. You really didn’t start talking until you were almost five, Kerr. But then, you didn’t have to. Karen talked enough for both of you. If you wanted something, or she thought you needed it, she asked for it for you. She’d say, ‘Mama, Kerr wants a cookie. Kerr wants some juice. Kerr wants that shirt, that toy.’ She picked out clothes for both of you since she was three.”
“Tell about when we went to school.” Kerr kept the stories coming.
“The school had a policy of separating twins. They wouldn’t let them be in the same room. I knew it wouldn’t work. But they wouldn’t listen to me. It was school policy. You know how they are.”
“What did I do?”
“You caused so much trouble, your teacher probably wished she’d never heard of you. She was always having to send for Karen to help her out. Sometimes you’d just cry until Karen came into the room. Finally the two teachers asked to make an exception to the rule. They gave up on keeping the two of you apart.”
Kerr laughed again. “Tell about junior high.”
“Stop it, Kerr, stop it!” Karen had heard enough. “Why are you doing this? Why are you making Mother talk about us this morning?”
“You need to hear this, Karen. You need to remember how strong you were, how strong you are. It’s me that’s weak. You can do anything you want to do.”
Karen wanted to be alone. Leaving her breakfast untouched, she jumped up and ran upstairs. Locking her door, she dressed quickly in jeans and hiking boots. She found where she’d tossed her down parka and pulled it on. Where was her red stocking cap? She couldn’t find it, so she tied a scarf around her head.
Hurrying down the stairs, ready to stop Kerr if he asked to go with her, she let herself out the front door, and trudged up the road, and into the woods near their house. The snow was so deep she could hardly wade through it. Maybe she should crumple into it and sleep. She could join Jesse, not have to face all of this.
She didn’t know how long she struggled to walk, falling several times, but she kept on until she was exhausted. There was something in her that made her keep going, wouldn’t let her give up. Maybe she could go home and sleep some more. If she could sleep, she could escape. Or could she? Would she dream of Jesse? Would she have to see him go down again?
Kerr sat waiting for her when she got back to the house. She felt weak and knew she had to eat something, even though she had little appetite. He waited at the kitchen table, as if he had been there since she’d fled the scene at what passed for breakfast.
“Your cheeks are red, Karen. You’re so beautiful.”
Karen couldn’t ignore him. “That’s a rather conceited remark, since you look just like me.” She had a sharpness in her voice she couldn’t contain. It was just that she didn’t want Kerr trying to help her anymore. Why couldn’t he understand that she needed to be alone?
“Well, not exactly. Dark curly hair, dark brown eyes, perfect skin, red cheeks—that all looks better on you.”
Karen closed the refrigerator door. “Kerr, I need to be alone. Can you do that for me? Stop helping me. Give me some time, some space.”
Kerr sat quietly, staring at his hands.
“Okay. If that’s what you want.” He got up and left the room. Grabbing a coat from beside the back door, he ran to the driveway, jumped in his car, and pulled out of the drive. Karen wondered where he was going. But she couldn’t care. She was relieved to have him go. He was going to have to do without her until—how long? She had to be strong for herself. She had to help herself now. Surely he could understand that.
Alysia came over in the afternoon. She didn’t say much. What could anyone say? She hugged Karen and sat with her in front of some movie on TV that neither of them remembered later.
“Can I go home with you, Alysia?” Karen asked. “Kerr is working so hard to be nice to me, I can’t take it. Mom seems to care, but she doesn’t know what to do.”
“Sure, Karen. Let’s pack for several days. You can hide out in my room as long as you want. Mom will understand.”
Karen stayed at Alysia’s for a week. She didn’t know why, she just felt more comfortable there. Mrs. Holland didn’t mind. She made Karen welcome and even gave her a key in case she and Alysia didn’t come home together. They went to Karen’s for more clothes. Karen’s mother didn’t question Karen’s being gone. Karen told her she was staying at Alysia’s, and Mom said okay. Maybe she was relieved to have Karen gone. Then she didn’t have to worry about what to do for her.
Kerr obviously took her absence personally. He wouldn’t speak to her at school. He avoided her. Why was he acting like that? She wanted to scream at him, pound on him.
A grief counselor came to their classes. She talked a lot, but Karen heard little of what she said. Words didn’t help. Maybe time would, but that was hard to believe now.
Kerr did take her and Alysia to Jesse’s memorial service. A lot of the school was there. Evergreen was still a pretty small community, even with the Denver commuter families pushing up the population. Karen listened to the pieces that were read. She heard what the minister said. She heard what friends said to her afterward. She heard what Mr. Goddard said. He talked about trying to go on without Jesse. He talked about how Jesse loved football. How he died doing what he liked to do. How skilled he was, and how he’d have gotten a scholarship for sure. Mr.
Goddard told Karen he planned to move to Denver. He said he couldn’t stay in their house alone. It had been too large for a long time anyway. He was putting it up for sale.
Through all this, Karen had her dream, its strange coincidence, blocked out. But not the skating. She remembered that, thought about it. Thought it a strange thing for Kerr to have done. Yet in some ways she appreciated it. She understood that Kerr didn’t know what to do. He had helped her in a way only he could have thought of.
One day, she had stayed out of school. She had walked in the woods that morning, finding deer trails through the deep drifts, stomping out paths where there were none. And that afternoon she had driven herself to the lake. She had skated alone. Being outside, moving, doing something—anything—seemed to be the only activity that healed a little. For a short time, she stood at the edge of the lake near the rope and the sign that said, THIN ICE. She watched as a Stellar’s jay came to peck for water at the mushy stream which fed the lake. A flock of house finches took their turn. It was obvious that other animals came there in the night to paw out puddles and drink. They found a way to survive in the unusual cold of this winter. Karen knew she had to keep looking for a way to survive the frigid grief that knotted her stomach, that made her feel brittle and afraid.
It was during psychology class that everything came in on her. They were talking about dream symbols.
“There is one cardinal rule about dreaming. Everything in your dream is an aspect of you. Sometimes a dream is trying to tell you something. It’s buried in your subconscious, and this is the only way it can get out.” Professor McArthur twiddled with a rubber band while he talked. “There is no such thing as a bad dream,” he continued. “A frightening dream is trying to get your attention.”
The Dreamstalker Page 5
