by Ann Simas
Even though the vision ebbed, releasing its invisible hold on her, the scene replayed in her mind’s eye with precise clarity.
Someone new had entered the picture. Someone who played rough.
Sunny’s breathing became labored, then raspy.
She made her way to her bedroom as fast as she could to use the nebulizer. The only coherent thought she had was that she should start carrying a rescue inhaler again.
She grabbed a vial of solution, trying not to panic as it grew more difficult to draw each breath.
Focus on breathing. Forget about the vision right now.
The problem was, she couldn’t forget the vision. Her parents had been brutally murdered and her children had been drugged to make their kidnapping easier. Only a person with no soul would be able to slough off those images so they could breathe, and yet rationally, she knew that if she couldn’t breathe, she’d be dead, and then who would save her children?
Sunny twisted off the cap of the albuterol tube with trembling fingers. She managed to empty the solution into the neb cup and screw the top to the bottom before she attached the cup to the tubing.
Every movement became laborious, and only by strength of will did she manage to turn the nebulizer on and plant her bottom in the chair. She managed, just barely, to get the mouthpiece settled between her lips.
A thousand cicadas sang in her head. Her vision clouded with what her mother used to call television snow.
Her world began to fade.
The last lucid thought she had before she tumbled into oblivion was that either Zach had not died in the Middle East or he had a doppelgänger who was going to kill her parents and steal her children.
. . .
Libby knocked once on Sunny’s door, then opened it and entered her bedroom. “Didn’t you hear me calling you? Breakfast is ready.”
Hunched over in her chair, Sunny didn’t respond.
“Are you eating breakfast with us, or not?”
Still no response.
Thinking her sister was in la-la land, Libby marched over and planted her hands on her hips, annoyed. “Dammit, Sunny, what’s the matter with you?” When her sister still didn’t answer, she almost turned away in a huff, but something stopped her. Shouldn’t Sunny be completely upright while doing a neb treatment?
“Sunny?” She moved closer and touched Sunny’s shoulder. Her sister tilted right and fell off the chair. Libby noticed immediately that her lips had turned purple. She put her fingers against her sister’s carotid artery, searching for a pulse. She thought she detected one, though it was weak. The mouthpiece was clenched between Sunny’s teeth and the nebulizer cup was clutched in her hand. Her fingernails had a purplish tint.
Libby hadn’t witnessed her sister’s worst asthma attack, but she remembered how her mother had described it, in particular the bluish-purple tinge to her lips and fingernails. The only thing she could think to do was to get the EpiPen from Sunny’s purse, which her sister always left hanging on a coat hook by the back door. While she ran for it, she activated her phone and dialed 911.
Back in the bedroom, she removed the Epi from its case and slammed the needle end into Sunny’s thigh. She depressed the plunger, dispensing the epinephrine.
“What’s going on?” Angie demanded from the doorway.
“I think Sunny had an asthma attack and didn’t get the nebulizer treatment going in time.” Libby reached over and shut off the machine.
“Doesn’t she have an inhaler?”
“No, and in any case, she’s barely breathing. I just used her EpiPen on her.” Libby felt her sister’s neck again. “I think her pulse is a little stronger.” Please, God, let that be true and not just wishful thinking on my part.
“I should call 911.”
“Already did. Will you go open the front door, then make sure the kids stay in the kitchen?”
Angie nodded and hurried away.
. . .
By the time the EMTs arrived, Sunny had revived enough to sit up and start the nebulizer treatment.
Libby explained the situation, even though she didn’t know what had brought on the latest asthma attack.
“Does she have an asthma doc?” one of the EMTs asked.
“Yes. I’ll have her call right away to make an appointment, because I think maybe she needs to go back to carrying a rescue inhaler again.”
“Good idea,” the other EMT said, cuffing Sunny to take her BP.
The children escaped the kitchen just as the firefighters, who always accompanied an EMT call, arrived. After a quick assurance from the EMTs that they could handle the situation, the firefighters invited Angie to bring the kids outside for a guided tour of their fire truck.
Once Sunny finished with the treatment, they listened to her heart, took her pulse, and peeked down her throat and into her ears, then stood back, staring at her with serious expressions on their faces.
After a lengthy discussion and a promise that she’d see her regular physician, and because they were satisfied that her color and her breathing had improved, the EMTs left without her in the back of their ambulance.
. . .
“What in the world happened?” Libby asked.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I got up and decided to do some painting. All I could think about were the visions and how I needed to buck up if I was going to prevent them from becoming reality, and all of a sudden I had another one.”
“Criminy, Sunny.”
“I know. That makes two in less than twenty-four hours.”
Libby drew trembling, tented fingers up to her mouth in consternation. “Was it different than the others?”
“Yes.” Sunny made a quick decision not to share how it differed. She had some thinking to do before she divulged the contents of the latest vision.
“What…I mean how…I mean…ah, shit, I don’t know what I mean! How can you get them to stop?”
“I have no idea,” Sunny replied, bewildered, “nor do I want them to stop.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because,” she shot back, agitated, “they’re showing me the future and I can’t afford not to see it.”
“But….”
“No buts. The visions helped me save Della and they’ll help me save my children. I don’t want them to stop.”
“I’ve been thinking…maybe it’s time to get some help.”
“Help? Like from who? A priest? A shrink? Madame Zorba?”
“There’s no need to get snide about it,” Libby said, unable to hide her hurt. “I just think we’re not equipped to handle this…this” —she threw her hands in the air— “whatever it is.”
Sunny extended a hand to her sister, who accepted it with obvious relief. “I need to think things through first. I’m sure I do need to seek help, but I have to figure out some stuff first.”
“What could you possibly have to figure out?” Libby asked, her expression puzzled.
“Libby, please, trust me, okay? I have to do this my way. I can’t explain anything until I get it figured out in my own head.”
Libby dropped down beside her on the bed, still clutching her hand. “I’m scared.”
“I’m scared, too,” Sunny admitted. “Scared shitless.” Plus, she felt like her body had been invaded by a million jumping beans. That’s what a shot of epinephrine did to you, aside from save your life.
Libby gnawed her bottom lip like it was a juicy bone. “Don’t shoot me, but would it hurt if you at least talked it over with Luca, since he’s a cop?”
Sunny debated whether or not to reveal that Luca had experienced one of her visions first-hand, so he was, indeed, the logical person to consult. In the end, she decided it wouldn’t hurt to tell her sister. “There’s something you should know. When we were staying at the Amorosi’s, Luca kind of got caught up in one of my visions.”
Libby’s mouth dropped open. “WTF? Are you serious? How could that happen?”
“I have no idea. I was experiencing the vision and
he came into the room. I guess he spoke to me, but I didn’t respond, so he walked over behind me and it grabbed him, too. Neither of us could move or speak until it evaporated.”
“Evaporated? You make it sound like it was water dripping onto a hot skillet or something.”
“I think that aptly describes how it feels to experience it.” She studied her sister with apprehension. “Does it change anything from your perspective?”
“You mean, do I believe you now?”
Sunny nodded.
“I never didn’t believe you,” Libby said, her words almost a whisper, “because….” She pushed up off the bed and moved toward the window.
“Because what?”
Libby stared through the glass for a full minute before she looked back at Sunny, her anguish obvious.
“Come clean, Lib. We don’t keep things from each other, remember?”
“You’ve got so much on your plate already,” she said lamely.
“Tell me or I’ll pinch it out of you,” Sunny warned.
Libby offered her a wan smile, but still hesitated. “Let’s just say I have my own demons to deal with and leave it at that.”
For the space of several heartbeats, Sunny mulled over the admission, which might have come across as nonsensical to someone who didn’t know Libby. When she grasped what her sister had said, she gasped. “You have visions, too?”
“Not visions, but…ah, shit, Sunny! Do we have to discuss this right now?”
“You can’t drop a bombshell about having some kind of paranormal thingy yourself and expect me to just accept it without knowing more about it, so yes, start talking!”
Libby cast a wild glance around the room. “Why, oh, why, can’t I learn to keep my mouth shut?”
“Libby, for God’s sake, tell me! You think I like being the solitary, clairvoyant pariah in the family?”
Her sister responded with an hysterical sound that might have been a giggle under other circumstances. “What? You’ll be happier if there’s two loony Keenes in the family?”
Sunny’s mind jetted off on a wild tangent. If Libby had some kind of paranormal ability, and she herself had acquired some kind of paranormal ability, was it possible that Maisie…? No, she couldn’t go there! “We’ve always stuck together, haven’t we?”
After a moment’s consideration, Libby nodded “I’ll tell you, but you have to swear you will not tell Mom and Dad.”
Sunny immediately crossed her heart, zipped her lips, then extended her pinky to her sister for a pinky-swear.
Libby scooted across the room, locked pinkies with her, then dropped down on the bed beside her again.
Once her sister had spilled her clairvoyant guts, Sunny said, “We may be able to use your ability to our advantage.”
“Are you kidding? It’s a freaking curse! It’s never been a positive in my life, not by the remotest stretch of the imagination.”
Without giving the actual particulars, Sunny’s sister had just admitted her life had been plagued with some sort of ability that let her know things. Sunny grabbed her in a bear hug. “You should have told me.”
“I left home so I wouldn’t have to tell any of you,” Libby retorted.
“Drastic measures,” Sunny said, stunned.
“I did what I had to do.”
“Yeah, well, after Maisie’s meltdown the other night, I’m thinking something gets passed along in our female genes that maybe we need to discuss with Mom.”
Libby stared at her with owl eyes. “You think…OMG, what if you’re right?”
“There’s nothing we can do about it if I am, is there?”
Libby snorted a laugh, then sobered. “You’re serious.”
Sunny’s expression grew grim. “Dead serious. I’ve been having visions about my kids and our parents that don’t end well.” She sucked in a deep breath and went for broke. “It’s just possible you and the ability you possess can help effect a positive outcome for those visions.”
Sunny refused to give Libby any additional information, and to Libby’s credit, she didn’t argue further about it.
The thing was, Sunny still felt it was essential to think everything through. For one thing, she needed to reexamine the latest vision, multiple times, if necessary. And there was more research to do, including taking a closer look at Vale Luna, an inquiry to the U.S. Navy about Zach’s death, and somehow obtaining a picture of Zach’s brother, Zebedee, whom everyone had called Zeb.
And now that she knew Libby had some kind of ability to know things, Sunny felt it was imperative that she read Zach’s letters to Libby. What might pop into her sister’s head when she read the references to the lunar cult? She outlined her plan to Libby. “Are we agreed?”
Libby nodded, her expression somber. “Reluctantly.”
“I hear you. I’m not exactly happy about any of this myself, you know.”
“I know and I’m sorry I’m so resistant. It’s just that I’ve been running from this for most of my life. I never imagined I might actually be able to use it for a good cause some day.” Libby hugged her.
Maintaining a positive outlook, Sunny decided, was essential. She hugged her sister back. “I just pray to God that you can.”
“Don’t be counting our stupid chickens before they hatch.”
“I have to, otherwise, you’ll be checking me into the Cuckoo’s Nest.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Libby assured her.
“You’re right.” Sunny rubbed her palms across face, as if doing so would wipe away her worries. Of course, it didn’t, so she segued to another topic. “I forgot to ask, how’s it going with Trey?”
Libby blinked in surprise. “Uh, amazing.”
“That’s all you’ve got?”
“Are you sure you want to talk about my love life right now?”
“Absolutely.”
Libby shrugged. “I’ve never met anyone like him, Sunny. Our sparks have sparks. He’d better ask me to marry him, and if he doesn’t, I’m asking him.”
“You just met!”
“So? When you know, you know.”
“You do?”
“Oh, for pete’s sake, you’ve been married. That should be a no-brainer for you.”
It wasn’t, because she and Zach had never had sparks that had sparks. That would better describe her short acquaintance with Luca, but she decided not to get into that right now. “Hustle on out of here so I can take a little nap. Having an asthma attack really takes it out of me.”
“Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? Lemonade?”
“Maybe a water. Thanks.”
“No problem, and don’t worry about the kidlets. Angie and I are perfectly capable of keeping them entertained.”
Sunny grabbed the nebulizer cup and rinsed it out. She was exhausted, but didn’t know if she could sleep after being injected with epinephrine. She’d been carrying an EpiPen for years, but this was the first time she’d ever had to use it. She had no idea how long the after-effects lasted.
With a sigh, she climbed onto the bed, pulling the light throw up over her bare legs.
Libby returned minutes later with a bottled water. Before she left the room again, she pulled the blinds, darkening the room. “Sleep tight,” she whispered to Sunny. She stopped in the doorway and turned back. “Is your date with Luca on tonight? Do you want to skip it?”
But Sunny was already fast asleep.
Chapter 23
. . .
Sunny awoke to a room lightened by whatever daylight managed to peek between the slats on the window blinds. She stretched gingerly, waiting for the expected discomfort in her side. When it didn’t come, she sighed with relief.
Feeling refreshed, despite her earlier ordeal, she rolled over and climbed out of bed. The most tantalizing aromas beckoned her to the kitchen, but first, she headed to the en suite bathroom, where she splashed cold water on her face and brushed her hair, then quickly changed out of her PJs.
From the kitchen doorway, she t
ook in the activity around the island. Della drained a pot of pasta while Angie tossed a green salad.
“Have a nice nap?” Libby asked, looking up from where she sat coloring with Carson and Maisie at the table.
Sunny nodded.
“Della called while you were asleep and said she was fixing dinner tonight. I’m not one to argue with an Italian who wants to fix me pasta, so….” She shrugged, shooting her sister a cheeky grin.
“It smells heavenly,” Sunny said, sniffing the air, “and I’m starved.”
“I called Luca to see if you had a date that needed to be rescheduled.”
“You did? What did he say?”
“He said ‘not yet’ and when he heard Della was fixing us dinner, he said, ‘I’ll bring the wine,’” Luca said from somewhere over her shoulder.
Sunny spun around to find him grinning at her with amusement. “Luca!”
“In the flesh, Sunshine.” He looked her over from head to toe. “You feeling better?”
She nodded. Why did that brief examination with those dark Italian eyes have the power to set her body to sizzling?
“Good.” With a wine bottle in each hand, he leaned down and kissed her, right there in front of God and everybody.
“Kissy face,” Carson said, watching with interest.
“Kithy fayth,” Maisie chimed in, not to be outdone. She puckered her lips and made little kissing noises.
Her face pink with embarrassment, Sunny clasped her hands in front of her and faced her children. “Have you already washed up for dinner?”
They both nodded.
“Sit,” Della ordered with a wooden spoon pointed at her. “Dinner will be served shortly.” She glanced at her brother, who had his hungry eyes still fastened on Sunny. “You going to open that wine or stand there ogling Sunny all night?”
“Yes,” he answered with a grin. “To both.”
Minutes later, the seven of them were seated around Sunny’s round oak table, enjoying the meal.
