by Amanda Paris
“Who’s going on the spring break trip?” I asked suddenly.
“The one Mr. Dean is planning to Europe?” Annie replied, easily distracted.
“Yeah, I think I’m going to go,” I said, realizing it myself for the first time.
Ben looked at me in surprise.
“Really?” he asked. “You didn’t tell me,” he said, sounding a little hurt. We planned everything together, so I knew that it came as a shock for him that I wouldn’t involve him in a major decision like this.
“I only just decided,” I said, glad I could be truthful with him for the first time that evening.
I really couldn’t explain it. I suddenly had the overwhelming urge to go overseas, to see England…to find the place in my dream, terrifying as it was. I knew somehow that my dream had taken place long ago, and the pull felt very strong to discover everything I could about it.
“Well, I guess that means I’m in too,” he said, always cheerful and eager to do whatever I wanted. He smiled at me, and I felt an immediate, inexplicable rush of shame mixed with the now familiar guilt.
“No!” I said, a little too loudly, then hastily added, “I mean, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”
Ben put down his spoon and sat back, the smile gone from his face. An awkward moment passed, and I knew my face had turned crimson.
I stood up then and picked up the ticket.
“This one’s on me,” I offered. It was the least I could do.
Annie’s eyes followed me, and the worried look on her face had returned. She and Zack stood up to leave too.
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said, twirling her hair as she always did when she was a little nervous. I could tell that they thought Ben and I had had a fight beforehand. They couldn’t leave quickly enough.
I finished paying and returned to the table.
“Are you feeling okay?” Ben asked.
“Yeah,” I said, not sure that I actually was.
We left shortly after Zack and Annie, but when Ben opened the door to his pick-up, I shook my head no.
“I can walk,” I said, not meeting his eyes.
I knew it wasn’t fair, but I just needed to be alone for awhile to clear my head. Though it was late, it wasn’t far to walk.
“What’s with you tonight?” he asked, starting to get more than a little irritated with me.
For the second time, I mumbled an apology.
“I just need to get some air,” I answered.
“Okay. Fine,” he said, now thoroughly angry with me. It usually took a lot for Ben to lose his temper, so I knew I must have pushed him too far and probably really hurt his feelings. But it hadn’t been my intention. I honestly couldn’t understand the way I felt.
He got into the driver’s side, slammed the door, and drove off. He had a right to be upset. I’d been distant ever since I’d had the dream that afternoon, and it wasn’t fair to him. He had a swim meet tomorrow, and it was the regional semi-finals. He likely wouldn’t sleep well tonight, and I felt bad for the way I’d treated him. I just wasn’t myself.
I sighed, knowing I should have called to him before he got into his truck and drove off. But I just stared at the dust cloud he left behind, slightly shaken. Eventually, I started walking home, not entirely sure myself why I was so disturbed by the dream I’d had or how it could have affected me so much.
Aunt Jo had left the outside light on but had long gone to bed. Most of the school would have loved to have the lax supervision I enjoyed. But Aunt Jo trusted me. She knew I wouldn’t sneak around or do anything really bad.
I quietly let myself into the house and saw the Duchess sitting on the bottom staircase, waiting on me with a curious look of sympathy in her eyes, which seemed to glow in the dark. Given that she normally treated me as a servant at best or a pesky human at worst, I was curious to know why she paid me so much attention now.
“Do you know what my dream means?” I asked her, only half in jest as I rubbed her head.
She purred loudly and followed me up the stairs, staying close to my legs as if to guard me, I thought.
It was a night for strange happenings.
Chapter Two
"Plunging In"
Between melting and freezing
The soul's sap quivers.
T. S. Eliot, “Little Gidding”
Sleep eluded me, so I picked up the sampler I’d begun a week ago. Sewing calmed me, and for some inexplicable reason, anything related to sewing had always fascinated me. Neither Mom nor Aunt Jo had understood it when I’d announced my new passion at age ten. “In this age of feminism,” Mom had once begun, shaking her head, “why would you want to go back to the dark ages?” But she had laughed, glad I’d found a hobby that could make me happy.
I couldn’t explain my desire to sew or the calming feeling that came over me when I threaded a needle. It was as much a part of me as my innate fear of drowning. When I’d learned some basic skills at camp one summer, I knew that it felt more natural to have a needle in my hand than a pencil. Mom, who couldn’t sew a button on a shirt, had nevertheless paid for lessons for me, and once I discovered needlework, I never looked back.
After her death, I’d had little patience or interest in sewing and had only recently decided to begin it again. Though I’d always enjoyed a challenge before, now I preferred the monotony of cross-stitching, an easy and mindless pastime that helped when I was upset. Before Mom died, I’d made all of my clothes and many of hers, many of them designed from older patterns—often frilly, feminine gowns we both liked to wear. Neither of us cared about current trends, preferring our own style to those found in magazines or movies.
Whatever interest I’d had in clothes had vanished since her death, however. It wasn’t just that I didn’t want to sew; I literally couldn’t do it for the first few months following her death. It was only recently coming back to me, as I remembered the happy times I’d spent with Mom, her weeding the garden, me sewing a dress or quilt for us. The less grief I felt, the more able I was to resume the life I’d lived before she died.
I worked quietly, not putting the sampler down for several hours and realizing, as I did, that I dreaded going to sleep. Who knew what kinds of dreams I’d have?
My eyes finally refused to stay open, and I climbed into bed. The Duchess jumped on the bed, curling around the blue and green patchwork quilt I’d made several years ago. She seemed to understand my need for company, and I was glad to have her there.
I woke up around nine the next morning, relieved that I hadn’t had anymore nightmares. I still had an hour before Ben’s swim meet began—time enough to get a pop-tart on my way to the school. I was picking Annie up on the way in Aunt Jo’s old car, which I hoped would still run. It was a red, antique, 1940 Chrysler Saratoga—a stylish car for its day—but a real pain to learn to drive. Aunt Jo felt sentimental about it because it had been her father’s prize car. Since we weren’t exactly good at keeping it in tip-top shape, it wasn’t in the best condition. We lived close to downtown, however, so the grocery store, post office, and cleaners were right around the corner. I usually ran Aunt Jo’s errands for her—literally.But school was too far away for that.
I grabbed the keys from one of the hooks in the laundry room and went out the back where we kept the car. After three tries, I finally got it started, shifted gears, and backed out, making sure the Duchess wasn’t anywhere near the tires. Driving the Saratoga was always an adventure.
Annie lived across town and was waiting for me on her parents’ front porch, an umbrella tucked under her arm.
“Hey,” I said as she got in.
“Hey,” she mumbled sulkily. Usually Annie flooded me with a stream of the latest gossip when I saw her. I must have been more out of it than I’d realized last night.
“So what are you and Zack doing later?” I asked, hoping to lighten her mood.
“Oh, nothing much,” she muttered.
I took a deep breath. “Listen, Annie, I’m s
orry about last night. I had this really horrible dream yesterday before Ben picked me up.”
“What about?” she asked, her irritation dissipating as her interest piqued.
Somehow it was a little easier telling Annie about my dream than Ben. I gave her a basic outline.
Her eyes widened.
“A knight?” she asked.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“What did he look like?” she asked, her earlier bad mood evaporating.
How to explain?
“Well, he was very tall,” I began, hesitantly.
“Taller than Ben?” she asked, a little skeptical. Ben towered over almost everyone at school. They’d tried to recruit him to the basketball team, but his heart was always in swimming.
“Yeah, I think so. Maybe by a couple of inches, even,” I replied, trying to sketch the outline in my mind from the haziness of my dream. The knight I saw in my mind was…fierce, sculpted, raw. Words couldn’t describe him.
“Okay, so what else?” she asked, becoming more excited.
“He had very intense dark eyes and dark curling hair. And he had the strongest arms of anyone I’ve ever seen, like he worked out all the time,” I finished, the details becoming clearer as I described him, but not because I remembered it from my dream. Had I recreated someone I knew? Was my knight a real person? The thought disturbed me.
“And…?” Annie prompted, clearly wanting more details. But there the vision ended. It was as though a door had been shut, and I couldn’t open it.
“He looked like he was from a different age, from long ago,” I said, sad I couldn’t reach him. The feeling left me unexpectedly breathless.
“Well, he was a knight,” Annie pointed out, quickly losing interest. I was thankful.
“Don’t tell Ben, okay?” I asked, suddenly afraid she might let something slip. There were some things better left unsaid, I thought. It was just a dream. Right?
“Why not? I mean, I wouldn’t anyway, but still…” she said.
“I don’t know,” I said quickly, “Just don’t.”
“Did he look like someone you know?” Annie asked, becoming interested again and more persistent.
“No!” I answered a little too loudly.
“Well, what’s the harm, then?” Annie replied, puzzled.
What indeed?
We drove into the school parking lot, which was near the indoor pool. I didn’t want Ben to see me before he swam. If he was still angry with me, I didn’t want to break his concentration.
Zack met us at the gate leading into the pool area, a grin on his face. He’d already been in the pool for a couple of laps, and his hair was slicked back from his head.
“Hey,” he said, a little out of breath.
“Where’s Ben?” I asked, looking behind him. Zack and Ben were always together when Ben wasn’t with me. I wanted to gauge how upset he might still be.
“Not sure,” he replied, not meeting me in the eye.
So Ben was still mad, I thought.
“Wish me luck!” Zack said, quickly pecking Annie on the cheek before heading back to the pool. At least he wasn’t still upset, I thought, thinking of Zack’s sunny disposition. He never held a grudge.
My eyes scanned the pool for Ben.
He was already doing laps. I loved watching Ben swim. He looked so effortless, so graceful. His strong arms reached from the water, dipping in and out, and I wondered how he could do something that made me so terrified.
It was obvious that he wasn’t looking for me. I’d have to make it up to him later, I thought, a little chagrined.
“Okay, guys, let’s go,” the coach barked out, blowing his whistle and rounding up everyone. Juniors would swim first, then seniors. It was a mark of Ben’s abilities that he’d been made captain as a junior.
Annie and I took our places to watch the competition in the bleachers, and we cheered when we saw Zack and Ben come out from the locker room. Both usually won easily.
Angela Rossi, the most popular girl in school, was waiting for him at the door. She’d worn a short skirt and high heels. I felt frumpy in last night’s jeans, which I’d pulled from the top of the laundry basket. I really would have to start paying attention to what I wore, I thought, as I saw her catch his attention. There were still a few minutes before the meet began.
From where I sat, I could tell that she was obviously flirting. This was nothing new. Everyone knew she liked Ben, including Ben. Normally, it didn’t bother me, but today Ben looked definitely interested.
“Hey, isn’t that Angela Rossi over there beside Ben?” asked Annie.Trust Annie to point out the obvious.
“Yeah, I see her,” I said, trying not to sound as irritated as I felt.
“Aren’t you going to go over there?” she asked.
“There’s no time,” I said. “Besides, why should I? If he wants to talk with her, fine. I trust him,” I said belligerently, forcing a note of bravado in my voice.
Annie’s large brown eyes became huge.
“Are you kidding me?” she asked, shaking her head.
I knew what she was thinking. The prettiest girl in school—blonde hair, gorgeous blue eyes, great tan, fabulous legs—was actively trying to steal my boyfriend. What did I have that could compete with that?
Someone blew the whistle, and Ben took his spot. But I couldn’t concentrate the entire time; my mind kept wandering back to the dream and the nagging feeling that I knew the knight who’d protected me.
The match passed in a blur. Ben and Zack both must have won, not that I’d noticed much. I clapped and smiled when Annie did, but I still couldn’t take my mind off my dream.
Annie was the one who snapped me out of my reverie.
People were starting to file out of the bleachers and leave. Some of the swimmers had already come out.
“Hey, you need to get over there, quick,” she said, pulling at my arm.
I looked over and saw Angela Rossi making a bee-line for Ben.
I quickly climbed down the bleachers, tripped on the last step and nearly fell into the pool.
“Great,” I muttered under my breath, catching my balance just before I launched headlong into the deep end. It was enough to embarrass myself by looking like a drowned rat but quite another to need one of the swim team to come fish me out.
By this time, Angela had already beaten me to him, and of course she looked as immaculate as ever. I hoped that Ben wouldn’t start making comparisons. He flicked his eyes over to me and then continued talking to Angela. So that was the way it was going to be, I thought, starting to get more than a little angry.
“Yeah, I thought the Chem test was hard too,” he said to her. “Mr. Clayton is tough,” he finished.
“But you’re good at everything, Ben. I mean, you beat everybody here. I’m sure you’ll be a state champ this year,” she said, almost purring.
Was she really saying this right in front of me? I rolled my eyes. Really, wasn’t he seeing through this?
Obviously not. He smiled down at her.
“Well, I work hard, I guess, but I’m not good at everything,” he said. Was he actually smiling at her?
Angela had the world’s most annoying laugh—a kind of snort.
“We should really get together sometime,” she said in a low voice, edging a little too close to Ben than was strictly necessary.
It was definitely time for me to step in.
“Hi, Angela,” I said, stepping between her and Ben.
“Oh, hi, Emily,” she said, disappointed. She glanced briefly in my direction and then pointedly ignored me.
“I better go,” Ben said to her. Was that regret I heard in his voice?
“Oh, okay. I guess I’ll see you around then, Ben,” she said, turning to walk off, but not before she flashed me a nasty smile.
“Yeah, see ya,” he replied. His eyes followed her.
I was fuming.
“What was that about?” I asked.
“What?” he replied, shrug
ging his shoulders and sounding a little too innocent. Something was up.
“What do you mean ‘what’?” he asked. “I see your mood hasn’t improved since last night,” he finished, starting to walk off.
I could still see Angela out of the corner of my eye. She’d left the immediate vicinity but hadn’t gone away completely. Instead, she’d taken a seat on the bleachers, watching us. I needed to change my tactics.
I whirled around, meaning to grab his arm but suddenly stumbled, falling into the deep end of the pool.
The cold water enveloped me, and I felt the old, familiar dread begin. I tried to remember what Ben had once taught me about swimming but I couldn’t stop the rising panic from overtaking my mind. I could feel myself sinking further, a dead weight in the water.
A bright light forced open my eyes, and I saw her, glowing beneath the waters with her dark, burning eyes, bloody lips, and hair that blazed out around her. She swam from the depths below and caught at my ankle, pulling me farther and farther down. I tried to extricate myself but couldn’t break her iron hold. We were nearly to the bottom of the pool, and I could feel her overtake me, her hands clawing at my throat.
I could no longer hold my breath. The cold water slid like a knife down my throat.
Suddenly, the light faded, and her hold broke. I felt a new force pulling at me from behind. We moved swiftly from the lower depths, eventually breaking the surface. Several arms pulled me out, and someone applied pressure, forcing out the water. I threw up, gasping for air. I could feel strong arms circling me and finally opened my eyes to see Ben beside me, with Zack and Annie standing over me.
“Do you think she can hear us?” I heard Zack say through a tunnel.
“Emily?” Annie said from faraway.
I couldn’t answer. My throat felt raw, as if a knife had really cut it.
“Where are those marks from?” Zack asked, looking down at my battered legs.
“She must have hit her legs going over the side or scraped them when we pulled her out,” Ben said.
“No, I didn’t see that she’d hit anything going in,” Annie said, puzzled.