Enchantment

by Pati Nagle

  “Thanks.”

  She lay back, exhausted. Concussions sucked, she decided.

  Mom had pulled herself together. She gave one last sniff as she took Holly’s hand again. Holly turned her head to look at her. Her eyes were really red, like she’d been crying a lot.

  “I’m sorry,” Holly whispered.

  Mom managed a brave smile. “I’m just glad you’re OK, honey. You’re going to be fine, the doctor said.”

  That was good. She didn’t feel fine. Felt kind of stupid. Maybe they’d been giving her drugs.

  She started thinking about what had happened. Cop chasing her around the spring. And two construction workers. And she had ditched school.

  “My bike—“

  “It’s at home, honey. It’s fine. Dad went up and found it.”

  “Where is Dad?”

  “Well, he’s at work. I should call him. You can talk to him.”

  Mom pulled out her cell phone and punched at it. Holly looked at the nurse.

  “How long have I been here?”

  “A couple of days.”

  “Days?”

  Sylvia nodded. “It’s Thursday morning.”

  Holly gasped. “What happened with the spring?”

  The nurse was checking a machine and didn’t answer. She went out in the hall, got a file folder, and stood writing on it.

  “Holly’s awake,” Mom said into her phone, then gave a nervous laugh. “Yes. She’s a little groggy. Holly, do you want to talk to Dad?”

  What happened at the spring?

  She accepted the phone and dragged it up to her ear. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Hi, baby. I’m so glad to hear your voice. How are you feeling?”

  “Stupid.”

  “You’re not stupid, sweetie. Listen, I’m going to leave work and come straight over. Want me to bring you anything?”

  Holly thought about it. “Ginger ale.”

  “You got it kiddo. See you soon. Let me talk to Mom again.”

  Holly held out the phone. She felt so wiped—hard to think—and wanted to just go back to sleep. Couldn’t, though. She had to find out …

  “Dad’s on his way.” Mom smiled and brushed her hair back from her face.

  Holly blinked at her, struggling to keep track of her thoughts. So tired, though.

  She missed Ohlan. Maybe if she closed her eyes, she’d see him again. She tried it, but her brain was too awake. She heard the machines, the voices, the footsteps passing the open door of her room. They kept her here.

  Maybe Mom wanted to talk. Too tired to find out. Holly lay still, thinking over what she could remember. Even the last few minutes were kind of fuzzy. And she had floated for a long time before that.

  After a while she became aware that her mom was talking. She started paying attention and heard Mom describing how she’d been awake a little earlier, what she’d said. The person Mom was talking to made little encouraging noises, not enough for her to tell if it was a man or a woman.

  “And then she seemed tired and closed her eyes. Is she asleep?”

  “I don’t think so.” Man’s voice. “Holly? Can you hear me?”

  Holly opened her eyes and sighed. She almost nodded, then remembered that was a bad idea.

  “Yes.”

  The man—brown haired, glasses, wearing a lab coat—smiled. Nice face.

  “I’m Dr. Staples. No, I’m not a surgeon.”

  Holly smiled back. Didn’t have enough energy to laugh, and it was a feeb joke anyway. He said it like he was tired of it himself.

  “I’d like to talk to you a little about your accident. Are you up for a couple of questions?”

  Not an accident.

  She shrugged. A warning throb from her forehead told her to take it easy on the moving around.

  “Do you remember how you fell?”

  “Didn’t. Jumped.”

  The doctor looked down, like that wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. Mom shot an anxious glance at him.

  “Do you remember what happened after that?”

  Yeah. I swam in the dark with my lover, a millennia-old water guardian.

  “Guess I was out.”

  “Do you remember anything between then and now?”

  “Dreams, sort of.”

  “Particular dreams?”

  “Just floating, feeling safe.”

  She wasn’t going to tell him Ohlan was there. She was beginning to suspect this guy wasn’t an MD. Shrink, maybe.

  Great. They thought she was crazy.

  She couldn’t blame them, really. She had thrown herself into the spring. If the water hadn’t been so low, she probably wouldn’t have cracked her head or whatever had happened.

  Just thinking about it made her tired. She closed her eyes again. Ohlan.

  “I think she needs some more rest.” The doctor’s voice was so low Holly could barely make out what he said. “I’ll schedule half an hour tomorrow morning.”

  Mom murmured a thank-you. Her voice was moving away; she was following Dr. Staples out to the hall. Holly watched through slitted eyelids. They talked for a minute, then he went away and Mom came back in.

  Holly let her eyes fall closed. It was the easiest way to avoid questions, and until she felt less stupefied she didn’t want to have to explain anything.

  She heard the squeak of plastic upholstery from the chair beside the bed. Mom had sat down again. In a little while she heard more footsteps. They came into the room, and she opened her eyes.

  Dad was standing by Mom’s chair, holding a giant arrangement of mixed flowers: yellow daisies, purple iris, pink roses and white carnations. His face lit up when she looked at him.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Hi, honey. It’s so good to see you awake! These are for you, sweetie.”

  “They’re beautiful. Thanks.”

  Mom stood up and took the flowers, carrying them over to a shelf by the window where several other arrangements were sitting. Holly hadn’t noticed them in the dim light.

  She stared in amazement—she’d never received so many flowers. There must be half a dozen vases, plus a spiky plant that she would have bet money Jen had picked out.

  All for being stupid.

  “And here’s the ginger ale you ordered. They weren’t cold so I picked up a cup of ice.”

  Holly remembered to smile. “Thanks, Dad!”

  Mom found the control to raise the bed to sitting-up position while Dad pulled a can of soda from the six-pack he’d brought and poured it over the ice in a jumbo drink cup. He snapped the lid back on and handed it to Holly. She sucked at the straw greedily, loving the way the bubbles stung the roof of her mouth.

  “How are you feeling?”

  She swallowed a mouthful. “Tired. Head hurts.”

  “Not surprising. You conked it pretty good.”

  She sucked on the soda some more and glanced at him through her eyelashes. He didn’t sound mad … exactly. There would be a discussion, though. She could tell.

  How much trouble was she in, anyway?

  “Did I get arrested?”

  Mom and Dad said “No” together.

  “No, honey,” Dad added. “The construction company declined to press charges.”

  She sighed, relieved. She had caused her parents too much grief already.

  But there was something …

  “The hospital wants to keep you for another day or so,” Mom said. “Just to make sure you’re all right, no hidden injuries.”

  “OK.” Too tired to get up anyway, and she didn’t even want to think about riding in a car. She reached a hand to her forehead and found it bandaged. Just brushing her hand against it made her wince.

  “Ow.”

  “Careful, honey,” Mom said. “You have a few stitches there. Your friend Jennifer says you’ll have an interesting scar.”

  “I think what she said was ’bitchin’,” Dad said.

  “Jen was here? When?”

  “She came over after school,” Mom said
. “Yesterday and the day before. Debbie was here yesterday, too.”

  “Man. Party without me, why don’t you. Did I wake up?”

  “No, honey. This is the first time you’ve been awake.”

  Out for two days and then some. That was bad.

  “Madison’s coming home for the weekend,” Dad said. She’ll be here tomorrow night.”

  Holly played with the soda straw, squeaking it up and down in the lid. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see Madison. She sucked up the last of the soda with a rude gurgling sound.

  “Want another one?” Dad offered.

  “No, thanks. That was great.”

  She moved to put the cup on her bedside table. Couldn’t reach; the IV tube in her arm got in the way. Mom took the cup and set it down.

  Her parents both stared at her. She swallowed.

  “So, am I grounded forever?”

  “No, Holly. We should talk about what happened, though,” Dad said.

  “When you’re better,” Mom added. “There’s plenty of time.”

  Time. Three days gone. Holly took a sharp breath.

  “What happened to the spring?”

  Her folks traded a glance. Dad’s face hardened.

  “It’s been demolished. And good riddance, too.”

  Mom put her hand on his arm. Holly felt her forehead tightening into a frown, and tears welling in her eyes. She rolled over on her side, not wanting them to watch her cry.

  “Holly—“

  Mom’s hand squeezed her shoulder. She couldn’t answer; she sobbed instead. The spring was gone.

  Ohlan … gone.

  ~ 18 ~

  She woke with afternoon sunshine spilling across her bed. It took her a minute to remember where she was, and what had happened that morning. Dad had gone back to work, and Mom had stuck around, but they hadn’t talked.

  She couldn’t talk. Ohlan was gone, and there was huge, gaping hole in her heart.

  The ache settled on her, now that she was awake and thinking. Her head was hurting less, but her eyes stung, sore from too much crying. She remembered more of the morning.

  The nurse had brought a lunch tray but she couldn’t eat anything with her stomach tied in knots. She’d drunk part of another ginger ale, and the nurse had given her some pills.

  Now it was later, and she was alone. Mom must have gone out to run errands, or maybe gone home to get some sleep. She looked like she’d spent a lot of time sitting by Holly’s bed.

  Holly looked for a clock, but couldn’t see one. She found the control to raise her bed so she could be sitting up, and watched out the window as she slowly rose. Her view was of the mountains, and she couldn’t help thinking of the spring, and Ohlan’s glen. All torn up now.

  She rubbed at her eyes and looked at the shelf full of flower arrangements instead. People loved her enough to send flowers. It wasn’t like she was alone in the world. She tried to be happy about that.

  Didn’t work very well.

  She closed her eyes, wishing she could go back to sleep, but now that she was awake all the unfamiliar sounds kept distracting her. People walked back and forth out in the hall, busy and chattery. She heard shuffling footsteps and looked up to see a grey-haired lady going past her door, pushing an IV stand. The lady looked in at her and smiled. Holly didn’t know what she had to be so cheerful about; she looked like hell.

  She tried to think of something she wanted, but there wasn’t anything—nothing she could have, anyway. There was a TV mounted on the wall, but she didn’t want to watch TV. Her stomach hurt, but the thought of food didn’t appeal. Her head ached. Maybe if she called the nurse, she could get a sleeping pill.

  That was all she wanted. To be unconscious, so she wouldn’t have to remember.

  “Holly! Dude!”

  Jen rushed through the door, arms out, looking ready to fling herself on the bed. Holly cringed as Jen leaned across to hug her.

  “She’s awake?” Deb’s voice, from the doorway.

  She scrounged up a smile. “Hi, guys.”

  They both had their backpacks. Must have come straight from school.

  “Don’t ever scare us like that again, OK?” Jen said. “Jeez, you look—Ow!”

  Debbie had swatted her arm. She moved up closer to Holly. “She looks a little tired, that’s all.”

  Holly looked at Jen. “I look dead, huh?”

  “No. Um, just sort of zombieish.”

  I feel dead.

  She tried to think of something better to say. “It’s nice of you guys to come.”

  Jen grinned. “That’s what you think. We brought your homework.”

  “I don’t have my laptop.”

  “Yes you do, dear,” said Jen, hefting Holly’s pack onto the foot of the bed. “The vice principal opened your locker for us.”

  “You don’t have to do the assignments right away,” Debbie added, laying a handful of papers on the nightstand. “You’re going to have plenty of time to make things up.”

  She didn’t want to make things up. The thought of school just made her tired. There wasn’t any point, any more.

  There was a silence while they waited for her to say something. She came up blank.

  “Oh, hey! We brought chocolate!” Jen dug in her own pack and produced a bar of extra dark, which she presented with a flourish.

  Holly smiled again. “Thanks.”

  “Want me to open it for you?”

  “I’m not hungry. You have some, if you want.”

  “No, dude. It’s for you.” Jen put the chocolate bar on the nightstand, then stood looking at her expectantly.

  “You have more flowers since yesterday,” Debbie said, strolling over to the shelf.

  “My dad brought some. I don’t know who the others are from.”

  Debbie started hunting out the cards. “Let’s see—this one’s from your mom and dad, and this one’s from the school. Grandma and Grandpa. These are from the gang. Jen brought that goofy plant yesterday. This one says Mr. Drover—is that a teacher?”

  Drover. It took Holly a second to place the name.

  “No. Let me see that one.”

  Debbie brought her the little florist’s shop card from a vase of pink carnations. On it, beside a picture of sunflowers, in very neat, precise handwriting, it said:

  Very sorry to hear of your accident. Best wishes for your recovery,

  Adam Drover, Las Palomas Div, USFS.

  Jen moved up beside her head to read the card. “Some kind of military guy?”

  “No,” Holly said. “He works for the Forest Service. I interviewed him.”

  “What for?” Debbie asked.

  “I was going to write an article for the school paper.”

  Jen shook her head. “Dude. Don’t go there.”

  “I’d like to read it,” Debbie said, shooting Jen a dirty look.

  “No point now,” Holly said.

  She put the card on the nightstand. It was nice of Mr. Drover to think of her. He must have been upset by what she’d done.

  In fact, things were just a big huge mess. The more she thought about it, the worse it looked.

  Jen and Debbie stayed a while, chatting about school, but Holly was too numb to answer them. Finally Debbie took hold of Jen’s elbow.

  “We’d better be going.”

  Holly roused herself. “Thanks for coming. Thanks for the chocolate and everything.”

  “Feel better, OK?” said Jen, looking worried.

  “Yeah.”

  Debbie dragged Jennifer out, for which Holly was grateful. She just didn’t have the energy to face them. They expected her to be normal. She’d never be normal again.

  She caught hold of her pack by one of the straps and dragged it up beside her. It was heavy—all her school books were in it along with her computer.

  She pulled the laptop out and booted it up, just to see Ohlan’s picture. There he was, sitting on the edge of the coffin with the twilit gloom of the glen all around him, softly glowing. So bea
utiful, but the best thing about it was the sweetness of his smile and the love shining in his eyes. She sat staring at the screen, silent tears running down her cheeks.

  ~

  The next morning Dr. Staples reappeared. Turned out he was, in fact, a shrink. After saying hello and smiling a lot, he started grilling her about what he insisted on calling her accident.

  “It wasn’t an accident, OK?” she said. “I threw myself in the spring.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “I was trying to save it.”

  “What was so important about it?”

  Holly felt her throat getting tight, and swallowed. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter any more.”

  He asked a bunch more questions aimed at the same thing: prying her reasons out of her. She didn’t want to talk about them, so she stonewalled. After this went on for a long time, he suddenly changed tactics.

  “Your parents told me you were seeing someone new, and that he had something to do with the spring. Can you tell me a little about him?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Holly clenched her teeth. Was this what this guy considered therapy? Why didn’t he just stick a knife in her heart?

  “I don’t want to talk about it, OK?”

  “Was he the reason you threw yourself in the spring?”

  Anything she said in answer to that question was bound to be misconstrued, so she said nothing. The silence stretched.

  “OK, Holly. You don’t have to talk about it. I’d like you to think about it, though.”

  No problem.

  “If there’s anything you would like to talk about, I’m here to listen.”

  She sighed with relief as he left the room. She’d ask Mom not to let that guy come back. Hopefully Mom would listen.

  ~

  That evening the whole family showed up: Mom, Dad, and Madison. Mom had driven down to Albuquerque to pick Mad up at the airport. The three of them arrived carrying a pizza box and yet more flowers.

  “These are from me and my roommates,” Madison said. “They all said to tell you hello and get well soon.”

  “Thanks,” Holly said, trying to muster some enthusiasm. “They’re beautiful.”