Sleep No More

by Susan Crandall

  A little voice said, He’s a psychiatrist; he can’t help himself from trying to figure out why you’re so damaged.

  As long as he was helping her, she should be grateful. Beyond that, there wasn’t going to be anything anyhow. She turned her thoughts away from analyzing Jason’s motives and back to her work.

  She felt ghoulish just thinking about doing the arrangements for Kyle Robard’s funeral. It felt entirely wrong.

  Nausea gripped her stomach and her hands began to tremble. Could she even do it? And how would people feel about it if she did?

  She couldn’t make a profit, that was for certain. Perhaps she could donate any money beyond the material costs to whatever philanthropic organization the Robards chose.

  Still, would having her trademark arrangements at the funeral cause more anguish than comfort to Kyle’s family?

  She shook her head, as if she had a prayer of dislodging troublesome thoughts.

  All of this circuitous thinking was obliterating the languid calm she’d experienced as a side effect of her hypnosis—and she certainly wasn’t making any headway toward resolution.

  Then she glanced over at Jason. His eyes reflected the streetlights as he drove. His profile was the picture of serenity. As she looked at him, that calm reasserted itself, little by little.

  How could his silent presence still the whirlwind that continually kicked around inside her?

  What would it be like to orbit around him, she a moon to his planet? Would his gravitational pull keep her steady, prevent the swirling winds from organizing into storms? Or would it overpower her and send her crashing into him, resulting in the destruction of them both?

  As she stared at him, wondering, she noticed they were going around Reynolds Square—which was in the opposite direction from Highway 17, the route that led north toward Preston.

  Just as she opened her mouth to ask where they were going, he glanced over at her and said, “I thought we should get some dinner before the drive.”

  “Oh, okay.” She wasn’t hungry, but it wasn’t right to make Jason starve.

  He stopped the car in front of a restaurant on Abercorn Street. The beautifully lettered sign over the front porch said, “Olde Pink House.” With a name like that a person expected a clapboard cottage near the river, not a large Georgian-style house with a thick-columned porch. It was pink, she’d give it that.

  The restaurant looked like a place for special occasions, fine jewelry, and high heels.

  As if to confirm her thought, a young couple emerged, nicely dressed, heads close together, arms around one another. They laughed as they descended the steps, as if sharing a secret understanding that no one else in the world would appreciate.

  A yearning arose from deep inside that knotted in the base of Abby’s throat. She would never have anniversaries, or any other event marking a couple’s milestones.

  She swallowed, and then cleared her throat. “Um, I don’t think I’m dressed for a place like this.”

  When she’d changed out of her clown costume, Jason had told her it was important to dress comfortably for the hypnosis. Consequently, she was wearing a pair of near threadbare jeans and her favorite—and thus well-worn—bulky sweater.

  “We don’t look that bad,” he said. “I doubt they’ll refuse to feed us.”

  He didn’t look bad. No sir, not bad at all. She realized it didn’t matter what Jason wore, his confidence carried him through. She’d bet he would somehow manage to get served barefooted and shirtless.

  “Besides,” he said, “it being Sunday night narrows our choices.”

  “Okay.” She sighed dramatically. “Don’t be embarrassed when they turn me around and show me the door.”

  He laughed and reached for her hand. “You’re too beautiful for that to happen. Beautiful people get seated no matter how they’re dressed. It’s good for business.”

  She nearly gave a glib and sarcastic response, but he looked like he meant every word. With a squeeze of his hand, she said, “Thank you. That was very sweet.”

  “I’m not sweet. I’m truthful and straightforward.” He raised their entwined hands to his lips and kissed the back of hers.

  A little taken aback, and afraid of embarrassing herself by letting him know just how deeply that simple gesture had affected her, Abby said, “Your momma sure raised you right.”

  He gave her that half-crooked smile that made Abby’s insides do a bouncy little dance.

  He said, “I’ll be sure and tell her when I speak to her next.”

  With that, Abby realized she knew nothing about his life before Preston. “Does your family live here in Savannah?”

  “My parents live in Atlanta. My sister, Katie, lives in Colorado; she married a ski patrol guy. They met when she was on vacation during college.”

  “So has she made you an uncle?” she asked.

  “Four times over.” He looked pleased by the fact. “Katie’s oldest is eight and can already out-ski her.”

  The very idea of an eight-year-old on skis in the Rocky Mountains made Abby’s stomach flip over. “I’ve never been in the mountains. Seems… dangerous.”

  “The Rockies are amazing. And if you’re trained and do like you’re supposed to, it’s probably less dangerous than swimming in the ocean.”

  She frowned. “Don’t do that, either.”

  “We’re going to have to get you out there a little more, embrace a few risks.”

  She didn’t like risks, or even the idea of risks. She’d carefully arranged her life to avoid them. But the idea of looking down a breathtaking mountain, blinded by glistening snow, face chapped by a cold wind while holding Jason’s hand got her heart pumping from something other than trepidation.

  She thought of the couple who had just exited the restaurant, sharing their unified existence, their mutual life experiences, and her heart ached for what she would never have. The reemergence of her sleepwalking had stamped out any glimmer of hope she might have secretly held deep inside.

  Before she destroyed the light mood, she shut down that avenue of thinking. She redirected the spotlight of conversation back onto him.

  “Do you visit Katie and her family often?” she asked. “Does all of your family ski now?”

  “Lucy doesn’t like cold weather or snow, even for vacation, so up until last winter we did summer trips. I took Bryce and Brenna out last winter. It was great. Bryce took to skiing right off, the faster the better as far as he’s concerned. Bren’s a little more cautious—thank heaven.”

  “And you?” she asked.

  “Let’s just say it’s too bad we weren’t shooting it on video. Could have made some cash on Funniest Videos—or at least been made famous on YouTube. When it comes to snow, I’m much better on a sled—nice and low to the ground.”

  Abby laughed, but she couldn’t imagine Jason ever being awkward. He was just too… manly. She bet he looked hotter than hell wearing ski goggles and a parka—even if he was falling down a mountain slope.

  Jason leaned closer and looked into her eyes. “I like to hear you laugh.”

  She felt his nearness as if her skin had been brushed by a warm breeze. Then he touched her with his hand, a gentle sweep across her forehead as he moved her hair away from her face.

  Her heart sped up as she held his gaze. She moistened her lips. Her entire body buzzed with anticipation, and yet he didn’t move to kiss her.

  “I’ve never met anyone like you, Abby Whitman. I wish we weren’t sitting in a car in a public place….”

  Heat shot to intimate places that had long gone untouched. Abby closed the space between them; her hands framed his face and she kissed him. She started gently, intending no more than a single kiss. But when he buried his hands in her hair and leaned across the console, gentleness gave way to a driving desire she’d too long suppressed. She opened her mouth and the bolt of pure hunger shot through her body when his tongue probed deeply.

  She pressed her feet against the floor in an effort to get
closer to him, her breasts tingling with the desire to be touched. To hell with anniversaries and milestones. She wanted now.

  Once again he read her well. His hands slid gently down the length of her throat, setting off fireworks everywhere his fingertips touched. She moaned into his mouth as his hand cupped her breast through her sweater. She wanted more; she wanted his hands on her skin. She wanted a moment she could hold on the long, lonely nights ahead. The word echoed through her head, want… want… want….

  She was just guiding his hand under her sweater when his cell phone rang.

  He broke off the kiss and cursed under his breath. “This had better be important.”

  He gave her one more quick kiss before he snatched his phone off the console.

  Abby bit her kiss-swollen lower lip, trying to keep the taste of him as long as she could.

  Jason frowned at the caller ID, then answered his phone. “Hey, Bryce. Everything okay?”

  Abby wondered if Bryce could hear the trembling in Jason’s voice, or notice his lack of breath. She herself was as breathless as a teen on the verge of third base. She worked on regaining some composure—which was hard as hell because she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Jason.

  As he listened to Bryce, Jason’s face, moments ago so relaxed and handsome, tensed. “Oh, crap.” He rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t realize it was so late. Let me talk to her.”

  Abby heard the drone of Bryce’s voice again.

  Jason answered, “I’m in Savannah. I took Abby to see Sonja—” He stopped as if interrupted. “Yes, that Sonja, and yes it was about the accident—”

  After a moment of listening he said, “Not much. She remembered seeing taillights, but that’s about it.” He listened. “I don’t know. These things are impossible to predict. Put Bren on, will you? And Bryce… thanks for calling.”

  The next voice that came on the phone was too soft to even hear its cadence from Abby’s side of the car.

  “I’m so sorry, Peanut. I had to come down to Savannah and lost track of time.” He listened for a moment. “Yes, I do think Father Kevin would appreciate being included in your bedtime prayers.” A pause. “Sleep tight and I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love you, Peanut.”

  Jason had a frown on his face when he disconnected the call. He sat for a moment, looking out the windshield. Then he muttered, “I feel like a real shit.”

  “Why?”

  “Over a year and I’ve never missed making Bren’s bedtime call.”

  She cringed. He’d forgotten because he was preoccupied with her problems. “You’re a good father, Jason. Anyone can see that.”

  He blew out a long breath. “I don’t know. Bren’s retreated into herself so much since the divorce. Maybe she would have done better if I’d stayed… at the time it seemed like it was a clear choice. Our marriage was dead and no amount of CPR could revive it. My leaving forced Lucy into sobriety at least.”

  Abby swallowed her questions about the particulars concerning the death of that marriage.

  “Jason, this isn’t a perfect world with perfect families and perfect choices. We all do the best we can with what life gives us. Was Bren upset about you not calling?”

  He looked a little puzzled. “Not really. She actually seemed more concerned about Father Kevin.”

  “See, you’re raising a selfless and giving child. That’s what good parents do. And you did speak to her before bed. So stop beating yourself up.”

  Then he turned to Abby, reaching across the car to stroke her cheek. “You’re a kind and selfless person, too. See how you’re making me feel better?”

  She could make him feel even better yet—but it certainly wouldn’t be selfless. So Abby just smiled and kept her hands to herself.

  After a moment he said, “It’s so hard for her. I want to do what’s best….”

  “From where I’m sitting, you’re doing a great job with your children.”

  He smiled softly. “Thanks.”

  “Now,” Abby put her hand on the door latch instead of on Jason, “let’s get you some dinner.”

  As they got out of the car, Abby put a firm foot down on her disappointment. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder what might have happened if Bryce’s call hadn’t come exactly when it had.

  As if under unspoken truce, Jason and Abby enjoyed dinner as if Abby’s life wasn’t playing out like a melodrama. They also avoided discussing the inappropriateness of their behavior in the car.

  Abby was grateful, once again, for his ability to tune himself to her mood. Just as she’d needed sleep last night, she needed to pass a couple of hours like a normal person tonight.

  They conversed like friends, looked at one another like lovers, and connected in ways Abby found wholly new in a relationship with a man. This dinner with Jason had nourished more than her body. It had jump-started a part of her that had lain dormant, and Abby was glad to discover it wasn’t dead.

  Unfortunately, it made her want things she could never have. But then, it didn’t have to be all or nothing, she assured herself. Maybe they could meet on this slip of common ground, at least for a brief time. She would have to be happy with that.

  The only sour note in the meal was his refusal to allow her to pay the bill. He had already done so much for her; it seemed little enough reward. But he held steadfast.

  At her final protest, he said, “You already complimented my momma. Don’t make her ashamed of me now.”

  She took her hand off the folder that contained their check. “Fine. I’ll just have to figure out another way to show my appreciation.”

  His roguish expression made her realize the innuendo of what she’d just said.

  “I was thinking of a nice houseplant,” she said in a reprimanding tone that lowered his suggestive brow. “Or a garden gnome.”

  “No gnome, please.” He raised his hands in mock horror. “The one in your shop already bit me in the leg.”

  She laughed. “Oh, yeah, Siegfried, my attack gnome. Better than a watchdog.”

  When he laughed, she decided she loved hearing his laugh as much as he’d indicated he liked listening to hers. It was a very, very nice feeling.

  It was nearly ten-thirty when they left the restaurant. And Abby decided it was time to address reality again.

  As he drove north on Highway 17, she said, “I suppose I should talk to Sergeant Kitterman tomorrow morning, now that he’s on the case. I’ll admit to him that I was sleep-driving. It’ll sound like some petty excuse I’m making up if I wait until they’ve concluded their investigation of the accident and find me at fault.” She paused. “Not that I’m saying it excuses me from responsibility—it’ll just look like a pathetic cry for sympathy. You know what I mean?”

  Jason was quiet for a bit. “I’ve been thinking. Do you remember saying something about red lights to Sonja?”

  “I did? I don’t remember that part.”

  “You said, ‘Red lights,’ then when Sonja asked you what about them, you said there were two, but that was all you remembered. Then everything went black.”

  “Hum. I did have that dream….”

  “I wonder if the two got scrambled in your mind, or if it really did have something to do with the accident. If it’s memory, maybe that third party they’re looking for was there before you. Maybe you woke up and saw red lights in the road and that made you veer off into the swamp. Or maybe it was Kyle’s taillight you saw.”

  She frowned, trying to recall anything about the red lights in her dream. “In my dream they were like car taillights; two about five feet apart, a couple of feet off the ground.”

  “Let’s suppose there was a car in the road and you swerved to miss it. Maybe Kyle was already dead. Maybe the 911 call had already been made. If so, that person would have a very good reason not to want to be identified.”

  She could hardly let herself hope. “Someone else was in the accident with Kyle?”

  “And you came upon it afterward.”

  She looked at Jason.
“God, do you think it’s possible?”

  “Someone is risking a lot to warn you off.” He reached across and took her hand. “Which leads me to the other thing that’s been bothering me. You said there was glass on you when you awakened in the marsh… from where?”

  “The driver’s side window.”

  “Were any of the other windows broken or cracked?”

  “Not that I know of. The windshield was fine. But it’s not like I took a good look around the van before I got out and went to the road.”

  “We’ll call Kitterman first thing tomorrow. We need to find out exactly what kind of damage your van sustained. And we’ll see how our ideas about the red lights fit with the accident investigation findings.”

  “Okay.” She watched the road for a while, thinking that this trip hadn’t been a waste after all. Unfortunately the questions it raised could only lead to more unsettling findings. Who would be so callous as to flee a scene with a fatality? And who would be so desperate to keep their identity a secret that they’d be willing to threaten her? Were they willing to carry out that threat?

  She leaned her head against the side window and watched the shadows move past as they traveled down the road. What would she do without Jason?

  As the miles rolled underneath the car, Abby grew drowsy, holding onto Jason’s hand and the spark of hope in her heart that she hadn’t killed Kyle Robard after all.

  CHAPTER 19

  Maggie sat in the living room with her photo album in her lap. It was quiet. Uncle Father was working late in his office next door. He’d been so sad today. He used to be happy on Sundays.

  She worried that she wasn’t doing her job—God had sent her to take care of him, after all.

  She opened the album, feeling sad, too.

  Uncle Father had made this book for her when she’d first come to live with him. Already the pink fabric edges were getting fuzzy even though she was extra careful with it. It had to last her whole life now. There would never be any new pictures of Momma and Daddy.

  She traced the curve of her mother’s cheek in one of the pictures. It was a really old one. Maggie was seven. Both Maggie and her mother had on hospital clothes. A tube went into Maggie’s arm. It was after she had had her big operation; the one that fixed her heart. She sat on Momma’s lap and held Momma’s long braid like a rope. That’s what Maggie missed most about her mother. The smell of her hair and the way it felt when Maggie helped her brush it. Momma’s hair was orange-gold, like Maggie’s. But Maggie’s didn’t feel the same. And it didn’t smell the same.