Only When I Sleep

by E V Lind

  She grabbed her old coat and shrugged it on, and dropped her cell phone in the pocket. It wasn’t as if she had anyone to call, except Mary-Ann or Ryan and, right now, he was the last person she’d call. Since he’d learned of her pregnancy he’d stayed well away and that was exactly what she wanted, wasn’t it? The thing was, she missed him. It was stupid, she told herself. She didn’t need any more complications in her life than she already had. But she did need a friend. The thought reminded her of Colleen. She’d been the only friend that Dan hadn’t driven away and without her Beth wouldn’t be here now. A pang of remorse struck her as she remembered she’d said she’d call Colleen when she was safe. Beth shuddered. Was she ever really safe? Still, she owed the woman a call, however brief.

  While Beth had the old cell phone and Ryan had organized the phone to the house to be reconnected, she didn’t want to use either of them for this call. They were too easily traceable back to the Joneses and Beth’s instinct for self-preservation warned her that it would be better to use a phone that wasn’t linked to the family that had shown her so much generosity. If Dan had the capability of tracing a call, they were the last people she wanted to lead him to. Besides, there was a pay phone near the general store in town that she could use.

  The old-fashioned booth was decorated with a variety of graffiti, both scratched into the glass panes on the sides as well as painted or written in marker pen on the wall, but Beth was relieved to see the phone still took coins. She dialed Colleen’s number. Her friend answered on the second ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Colleen, it—” Beth’s swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat and tried again. “It’s Beth. I just wanted to let you know I’m okay.”

  “Beth? Thank goodness you called. It’s been nearly three weeks! I’ve been worried sick about you.”

  “I...I’m okay.” Beth caught her lip between her teeth. This was so much harder than she’d imagined. “How about you?”

  “I’m fine. Same old, same old here. You know the drill.” Colleen paused, then continued. “Are you coming back soon?”

  “I don’t think I should. It’s probably not safe yet.”

  “Well, it’s safer than it was. I made a report about seeing Dan at your house that night.”

  Shock drove every rational thought from Beth’s mind. “Oh no, Colleen. You didn’t.”

  “I told you someone had to do something to stop him. And I have. I heard at the diner that he’s been stood down. When they bothered to look closely enough they found discrepancies in his statement about that night.”

  “He’s stood down?” Beth felt panic rising and beat against her chest walls like a wild creature trapped inside her, demanding to be released.

  “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Colleen didn’t sound quite so sure of herself now.

  “I...I don’t know.”

  From Beth’s perspective it meant that Dan now had all the time in the world to pursue her if he didn’t have to be at work. And wouldn’t he be even more angry? A roaring sound filled her ears. Wouldn’t he be even more determined to find her, to punish her, to make her pay for what he thought were her transgressions. She fought the urge to slam the phone down on its hook and sever the call as if doing so could unsay the words Colleen had spoken. Beth looked around her in panic, as if he might pop out from behind one of the cars parked on the street.

  “Beth! Beth! Are you still there?”

  Eventually Colleen’s voice penetrated the fog of fear that gripped her.

  “I’m here.”

  But for how much longer?

  “Wherever you are, you’re safe from him now. The police will work it out and when they do they’ll nail his ass.”

  Beth doubted it. These were the same colleagues she’d appealed to when she’d applied for the restraining order. The same people who’d made sure Dan received the paperwork before it could be filed. There was nothing stopping him from coming to find her. Beth understood that on a level that went deeper than anything she’d ever known before.

  “Let’s hope so,” she managed through lips that had grown numb.

  “He can’t get you, Beth. You have to realize that.”

  Oh yes, he could.

  Colleen continued, “Look, I’ve started seeing a guy. A cop. He’s a regular at the diner and we just clicked, y’know? He’s the one who told me about Dan being stood down and he’s not one of Dan’s fans, either. I trust him. Look, as soon as I hear anything else I’ll let you know. Can you give me a number where you are now?”

  “No,” Beth said through lips that felt numb and thick. “I can’t. Look, I’ll call you again next week.”

  She sensed rather than heard Colleen’s sigh on the other end of the phone. “Okay, Beth. I understand. I wish it could be different.”

  “So do I,” Beth admitted, resting her forehead against the cold glass of the booth.

  “Will you let me offer you some advice?”

  “Sure.”

  “You can’t let fear rule you. You can’t let him rule you, either. You’re stronger than that. Stronger than what he did to you. You’re a survivor, Beth. Not a victim. Remind yourself of that, okay?”

  “I’ll try.”

  Beth hung up the receiver and remained frozen where she was a few minutes longer. Survivor. The word echoed in her head and made her lift her eyes and look around. Yes, she’d survived him so far, but she doubted he’d let her survive the next time. If he could no longer control her, he wanted her dead. But not until he’d exacted his twisted vengeance. Unconsciously she fingered the scars on her cheek, the ridged lines were hard beneath her fingertips but had no feeling or sensation left. A bit like herself, she thought, letting her hand drop back to her side.

  She forced herself to exit the phone booth. A watery sun shone between the clouds, reminding her that she’d planned to take a walk today. Like a normal person. Not hide and skulk at the house or work flat out at the café, too afraid to make eye contact with anyone in case they knew her or asked questions she didn’t want to answer. Colleen was right about that much at least. She couldn’t let Dan rule her and that began now. She drew in a deep breath and started to walk.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Riverbend, OR, January 1941

  Dear Diary,

  He is gone. We had one brief time together, after he completed training and before he shipped out. A scant hour to make our promises, to pledge our undying love—and it is such a love. Our last joining together was the first time he lost control and spent himself inside me. Afterward he held me, apologizing, but I would not let him be sorry. We are joined together forever in more ways than we had imagined.

  The timing is all wrong but I have no regrets even though I am with child. Part of me thrills to the thought that I carry Jonathon's babe inside me, but caution tells me I must be careful and trust that he will be home again before I begin to show. I have a plan. I can let the seams out in my dresses to help hide the baby's growth, and I can wear more layers until Spring at least.

  Before he shipped out, Jonathon told me the war will be over soon. That the troops he left with will be what makes the difference in the Pacific and that he will be home again in a few months. I can only hope he is home before the babe comes and that we can be married, that our child can be born inside of wedlock. I cannot tell him that I am carrying his baby in a letter. I will tell him when we're next face to face. Until then, it must remain my own special secret.

  TWENTY-NINE

  That night Beth fell into bed exhausted. She’d walked for hours and it had been cold and blustery again by the time she’d returned home. She looked around the house for signs that Ryan had been working around the property, but there were none. Maybe he was still mad at her after the way they’d parted last Tuesday. He’d sent one of his farm hands to drive her to work the next morning and at the end of her shift her car had been in its usual parking spot and the keys left with Mary-Ann. She hadn’t even seen him come into the diner. Beth s
hrugged. She wouldn’t allow herself to care. His feelings were none of her business anyway.

  During her walk she’d reached a decision not to read the diaries tonight but alone, tucked up in the room that had to have been Lizzie’s, she hadn’t been able to resist. The entry she’d read just now had affected her deeply. Pregnant, unwed and with a cruel and judgmental mother, Beth could only begin to wonder what had happened to Lizzie. Had she run away before the birth of her baby terrified of what her mother would do when she found out? Was that why Lizzie had disappeared? And what of Jonathon?

  Logically, she knew he had returned from the war and obviously he’d married someone else—Ryan was his grandson, after all, and the continuation of the Jones’s family bloodline. But hadn’t he ever wondered about the girl he’d left behind when he’d gone to war? Unanswered questions whirled in her mind, giving her a troubled sleep and by the time morning dawned she felt no more rested than when she’d gone to bed.

  She rolled out of bed feeling stiff and sore. Snowball prrped a protest and burrowed back into the warm bedcovers, making Beth smile.

  “I should join you,” she said to the sleeping kitten and reached out to stroke its silky, black fur. “But I promised myself that I would tackle that downstairs bedroom today. I can’t keep putting it off just because of a feeling.”

  The kitten opened one baleful eye and then closed it and curled into an even tighter ball than before. Determined to stick to her plan, Beth left the bedclothes rumpled around the kitten and grabbed her clothing before heading downstairs. She showered, dressed and breakfasted as quickly as she could, then grabbed a couple of boxes from where Mary-Ann had stacked them in the front parlor for her and faced the door to the downstairs bedroom.

  She’d taken to keeping the door closed, it was the only thing that appeared to stop the kitten from hissing and growling every time she sauntered past. Now, it seemed, she had to draw on all of her courage just to open it again.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Beth said out loud. Her voice echoed in the hallway, making her feel even more uncomfortable. “It’s just a room.”

  She put her hand on the old brass knob and gave it a twist, pushing the door wide as she did so. The house was unusually cold at the best of times but the air in this room was particularly so. Beth steeled herself and stepped inside, pausing just over the threshold for the familiar sensation of discomfort she usually felt.

  “It’s just a room,” she repeated and dragged a couple of boxes over to the heavy antique dresser that sat to one side of the front window.

  The air in the room was still, almost as though it was holding a breath—waiting to see what she would do next. Beth’s chest tightened in apprehension. Fresh air. As cool as it was the room needed some fresh air. Resolutely, she walked to the deep sash window and unlatched it before shoving the lower pane up. Remembering how it had slammed closed again the last time Mary-Ann had opened it, Beth wedged a small box on the sill to stop the frame from dropping all the way down.

  A cool breeze entered the room, swirling around her. The tightness in her chest increased.

  “Breathe,” she told herself. “You’re here to do a job, now do it.”

  She set up the first of the boxes and taped the bottom and labeled it, “Downstairs Bedroom, Dresser”, then bent to the floor boards and reached for the handles on the bottom drawer.

  Thwack!

  Beth winced in pain as the knuckles on her right hand stung sharply. Ouch, that really hurt. She rubbed her aggrieved skin with her other hand. She took a closer look. Too her amazement, a sharp welt came up across her knuckles, as if she’d been hit hard with the sharp edge of a ruler, or with a cane.

  “Like that’s not weird,” she muttered out loud, before reaching for the drawer again.

  A cold heaviness almost suffocated her as she tried to pull the drawer open but it wouldn’t budge. That’s when she noticed the discolored metal lock in the center of the drawer. It was so aged it had blended in with the color of the wooden drawer.

  “Well of course it won’t open without a key, will it?” she said to the empty room. Maybe she’d find the key as she went through the other drawers. Beth reached for the one above, which opened with a squeak of swollen wood, and began to empty it of its contents. The scent of mothballs, long since disappeared, swirled in the air as she lifted out several hand-knitted woolen items, a handful of cotton blouses and a dark serge skirt. Clearly Mrs. MacDonald was very much into utilitarian garb, she thought as she removed the last piece. Quickly, Beth wiped out the drawer and then moved up to the next one, hesitating a second or two before reaching for the knobs again.

  “I’m just tidying up, okay?” she said out loud.

  The oppressive sense of heaviness grew stronger.

  “Oh, for God’s sake!” Beth exclaimed before grabbing the handles and giving them a solid tug.

  Blasphemer! Whore! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

  She cried out with the pain this time and stared in horror as the skin on her knuckles split and began to bleed. Run! She was on her feet and at the door to the room before she knew she’d even begun to move, but as she reached the doorway she stopped. This was ridiculous. There was no one here but her. Was that really what she was running away from? Her own self?

  Colleen’s words about not letting fear rule her, echoed in the back of her mind. Beth turned and walked back into the room, nursing her sore hand. She wiped the blood away on her jeans and winced as she saw the bruises that were already beginning to form around the small wounds. But she refused to be cowed.

  “No!” she said firmly. “You will not scare me away, whoever and whatever you are. I will not be afraid.”

  The atmosphere grew thick again, making her chest constrict and her breathing labor. But she stood her ground. Then, little by little, Beth felt the air ease around her. Breathing got easier, the temperature, miraculously, seemed to warm a little.

  “Right,” she said with a nod. “Let’s get this finished, shall we?”

  She experienced no further problems as she continued emptying the drawers and wiping them out. As she did so, she couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for the woman whose clothes she was packing away. Every item had been lacking in any hint of femininity or fun—each piece more serviceable than the last. She had no idea what Mary-Ann planned to do with it all. Perhaps it might be of some use to a local theater or even a living museum.

  It was as she was lifting the last of Mrs. MacDonald’s undergarments from one of the small top drawers of the dresser that she heard a metal jangle. She pulled the drawer all the way out and spied a pair of keys lying at the back. She scooped them up in her hand—the keys felt strangely warm to her touch.

  “Hello. Where do you belong?” she wondered.

  She felt a push in the back of her mind.

  My last diary. She found my last diary.

  Beth blinked and took a step back from the dresser. The keys in her hand grew warmer. She looked around the room, her eyes settling on the wooden writing case. Dread quivered through her as she remembered the last time she’d reached for it. Her fingers tightened involuntarily on the smallest of the keys.

  Aggie had said Lizzie’s last diary was missing. Could it be in there? Only one way to find out. Beth tentatively reached for the case, her entire body tensed as she did so. She slotted the key in the case. It fit. She held her breath—waited a few seconds. Nothing happened. Slowly, Beth turned the key, and felt an inexplicable sense of relief as she felt the tumbler of the lock give way.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  Beth jumped, her heart suddenly racing and a scream locked in her throat.

  “Beth? Are you there?”

  Ryan’s voice echoed through the front door. She’d been so wrapped up in what she was doing she hadn’t even heard him arrive.

  “I’m coming!” she called out.

  She went to the front door and opened it wide.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “Just lett
ing you know I’ll be finishing the garden around the back today. Call me if you need me for anything else.”

  “I won’t need you,” she replied, cringing a little even as she said the words.

  “Suits me,” he said, his mouth a tight line.

  She saw his eyes drop to her hand on the door jamb.

  “What did you do to your hand?”

  Like a child, she put her hand behind her back, as if she could make him unsee the damage to her knuckles. “It’s nothing.”

  “Didn’t look like nothing to me. You seem to make a habit of hurting yourself. Are you one of those people who get a kick out of it?” he goaded.

  Beth felt every nerve in her body shrivel and shrink deep inside here. Any second now he’d get really mad. She shouldn’t have provoked him. She ducked her head. Too afraid now to meet his piercing gaze.

  “No, I’m not. It just...happened.” The words sounded weak even to her. Dammit. She wasn’t a victim anymore. She wouldn’t let it happen again. She was strong. She drew in a breath and lifted her face. “Was there anything else?”

  Surprise flitted across his features. There one minute, gone the next. “No. There was nothing else.”

  He turned and thundered back down the stairs, muttering under his breath as he went. Obviously, his leg wasn’t bothering him as much today, she thought uncharitably, as she watched him leave. She waited until he was at his truck and hauling some tools from the bed before she firmly closed the front door. She expected to feel relief once the sturdy wooden barrier was between them again but instead she felt an odd sense of disconnection.