by Regan Forest
She rushed up as they were closing the doors. “How badly is he hurt?”
“Can’t tell,” one of the men replied. “We’ll have to examine him at the hospital.”
What other response could she expect? At least Cody was alive! She fought down the urge to jump into the ambulance and stood in the streetlight shaking so hard her legs would scarcely hold her up.
Mark Dickens stood beside her. “Lucky you saw it, Ellen. Where were you when this happened? Do you know who the guy is?”
Her voice sounded weak against the wind. “Cody Laird. He’s new here. He owns the radio station. I don’t know what happened, for sure. I was walking home from work. I heard the noise of the tree breaking and somebody pushed me from behind. I fell, and when I got up, I saw that it had fallen on him.”
They were walking back in the direction of the police station.
Joe said, “I’ll get a car and go on over to the hospital for a report.”
Ellen turned. “I’ll go with you.”
Some ten minutes later she and the officer, both wearing dripping police raincoats, were standing in the reception area of the county hospital. Ellen was grateful Joe was there because without him, getting information would be more difficult.
He said, “You’re soaking wet, Ellen. You must be freezing.”
“I’m numb from being so scared.”
“You say the guy was behind you?”
“Yes, but I didn’t know it. He must have seen the branch break, although I don’t see how he could. It all happened at once. Do you think the branch broke his back?”
“It’s possible, but I doubt it.” The officer unbuttoned his coat and reached into his shirt pocket for his cigarettes and a lighter. “If that limb had landed on you, small as you are, it might have killed you.”
“I know. And it would have hit me—I was right under it.”
He rested a hand on her shoulder. “You’re shaking like a leaf. You ought to go home and get dry.”
“How can I until I know how badly hurt he is?”
Taking a hard puff, Joe Garry blew out a mouthful of smoke. The nurse at the desk in the far corner of the room glared at his cigarette, but didn’t say anything, perhaps because he was in uniform and on duty. “This might take a while, though. Why don’t I run you home and wait for you to change into something dry, and we’ll get back here before the doctor is ready to tell us anything.”
She thought this over and nodded gratefully. “I can change in five minutes.”
* * *
DURING THEIR WAIT in the hospital lounge, Ellen decided to telephone the Calhouns.
Meredith answered.
“It’s me,” Ellen breathed, wishing she didn’t have to take time to explain. “I’m at the hospital. Cody was hurt when a broken tree branch—”
“What? Hey, slow down, Ellen!”
“I’m calling to find out if Jeff knows anything about Cody’s family—where they might be...anyone to contact. I know you said you didn’t think he knew anything, but I had to ask anyhow, just in case.”
“This sounds serious!” Meredith’s voice had risen several octaves.
“It might be. Is Jeff—?”
“He isn’t here. He went out to the country on a call and he’s staying over rather than drive home in this storm. Hey, are you okay? You sound fragmented.”
“I’m fine.”
“Should I come?”
“You can’t do that.”
“Hell, I can if you need me.”
Ellen’s voice softened. “Joe Garry is with me. He’s on duty. I’m okay, really. I doubt if Jeff would know Cody’s family, I just thought I’d give it a try.”
“Ellen, the dreams were some kind of warning, just as I thought. The ghost was a messenger of doom. Maybe that was her connection to Cody...or maybe it’s the ghost’s revenge—”
“Meredith, will you stop! It was an accident.”
“Oh, really? Just a plain accident? Or is there something you’re not telling me?”
Ellen swallowed hard, feeling the weakness in her knees. There was deep concern and worry in Meredith’s voice. Ellen felt the comfort of having one friend in Shadow Valley who truly cared. Even if she tended to be a cheerleader of the occult and sometimes a peddler of doom.
“I can’t talk about it now,” Ellen said. “I know very little at this point, but I promise to phone later and let you know how he is.”
Another thirty minutes passed before Cody was moved from the emergency room into intensive care and Joe was able to talk to the doctor. Dr. Tribble was an elderly man with a gray mustache, whom Ellen had seen around town all her life but had never spoken with. Dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, her hair still damp, she stood beside the police officer so Dr. Tribble wouldn’t question her right to be there. Joe, acting official, took out his pad and pencil to add the medical prognosis to his accident report.
“Multiple injuries,” the doctor said. “A bad blow to the head, three bruised ribs, one cracked rib—internal injuries. So far, no sign of regaining consciousness. We’re watching him closely for concussion for the next few hours.” He turned to Ellen. “Are you a relative?”
Ellen scarcely heard the question. “No. A friend. He has no relatives in Shadow Valley.”
“We’ll need some personal information. Has anyone taken information from you?”
She shook her head. “No, and I really can’t give you any. I barely know him.”
“Give us what you can, then.”
“No spinal injuries?” she asked.
“Not that we can determine, nor skull fracture. He’ll be all right unless the head injury causes complications.” The doctor turned to the police officer, ignoring Ellen. “Is that all you need?”
“Yeah.” Joe nodded. “Can we see him?”
“There’s no point. He isn’t conscious.”
Joe sensed how much she wanted to see Cody. He had tried, and for that Ellen was grateful. He suspected Cody was more to her than a casual friend. Strange, she thought. Joe had never been her friend; he was just a guy from school who would classify her as one of the Pebble kids. They had never held a conversation before tonight. Yet he had gone out of his way to be nice to her. Was it because it was his duty as a police officer? No, it had gone beyond that. He had been sincerely helpful.
Now he turned to her and asked if she wanted a lift home after she had filled out what she could of the admission forms.
“Thanks,” she replied. “But I think I’ll stay, just in case there’s some change.”
“Why not get some sleep and check back first thing in the morning? Maybe he’ll be awake by morning.” Joe Garry smiled. “You can’t thank him until he wakes up, Ellen.”
She shrugged. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Sure I am. My experience around here has taught me that they won’t give you any information about a patient unless you’re his spouse or his mother. And these chairs can get damned hard after a while.”
Rubbing her wrist, Ellen glanced at the closed doors behind which Cody lay unconscious, his immediate fate in the hands of professionals in white uniforms. There was something strange, all right. How could he have been behind her on the sidewalk, without her seeing him? Why was he there, in the storm? More was going on than she understood.
Please wake up soon, Cody, she pleaded in silence. Please be all right and wake up and explain to me what is happening....
7
THE RAIN-WASHED MORNING air absorbed the scent of pine. Dazzling sunshine moved down and across the narrow valley as the last of the clouds thinned and scattered. The gentle calm of day gave no hint of the fury of last night’s winds, but the light revealed the damage—fallen branches, blown debris, moving brown water rippling along the curbs, leaf-capped puddles.
As she walked briskly from home toward the hospital, Ellen was grateful for the sunlight, for the darkness of the night had seemed to go on forever. On Main Street, the giant felled bough had been cleared away, but scatt
ered leaves remained. The broken tree stood forlornly lopsided. Shuddering, she hurried past it, trying to will away the memory of Cody trapped there.
Minutes later Ellen stood at his bedside, gazing down at his pale face. Although he had been moved in the early morning to a private room, he had not regained consciousness, and this frightened her. He appeared to be sleeping, unaware of the IV needle taped in his arm.
“Cody?” she whispered, leaning close. “Please wake up.”
Stripes of thin light slanted in through the vertical window blinds, falling across the white sheets of his bed. There were echoes through the corridors, and the smell of disinfectant. Disoriented, Ellen sat on the bedside chair, her hand touching his, and studied every line of his body under the thin white blanket, and every detail of his face under a shadow of beard. Dark hair curled over his forehead. His features were nearly perfect; he was beautiful.
“Cody, who are you?” she whispered. “How have you haunted my dreams before I ever knew you? How have you invaded my every thought since I met you? Why were you there last night?”
Throughout the morning, she moved only when asked to by someone ministering to him, and then returned to her vigil.
Before noon, Jeff Calhoun came in, looking hassled and a little surprised to see her. “I got your message, Ellen. What happened?” He studied the still form in the bed.
“A freak accident,” she answered unsteadily. “He was under the tree just as the storm took off a branch. I thought you might know his family.”
“No...” He frowned. “I didn’t realize you two knew each other.”
“We don’t, very well.”
Calhoun leaned over Cody. “Concussion, the doctor said. I’m sure he’ll be okay, but I wish he’d wake up.” He checked his watch. “I have a patient scheduled for surgery.” He was looking at her curiously, probably wondering why she was standing vigil. “When he comes to, tell him I was here, will you? And that I’ll be back.”
An hour later Cody began to stir, turning his head painfully. Ellen straightened. “Cody, can you hear me?”
After what seemed a long time, his eyes fluttered open and he looked up at her dazedly. His lips formed her name. “Ellen?”
Thank God you’re awake! She gripped his hand firmly. “You were trapped under a tree branch. Do you remember?”
Cody frowned, closed his eyes and then opened them again. She realized he must be in pain; of course, he would be. She must get someone—
“It was a dream,” he rasped.
Ellen bent toward him. “I wish it were. It can’t be feeling much like a dream right now.”
“It was a dream,” he repeated and closed his eyes against rising awareness of the pain. Perspiration was beginning to show on his forehead and another weak attempt to move made him wince.
He’s delirious, she thought, as tears welled in her eyes. Ellen swallowed as if that would hold the tears back. Stay in control! she scolded herself as she rose from the chair. “I’m going to find your doctor...who will be very pleased to see you’ve decided to wake up.”
His eyes remained tightly closed against the pain; he didn’t try to look at her again.
Afterward, they wouldn’t let her see him. Ellen paced around the waiting room drinking coffee. The image of Cody’s glazed eyes was burned into her consciousness. Surely he couldn’t really have thought he was dreaming—not when he awoke in so much pain.
A nurse approached, looking baffled. “Ellen Montrose?”
“Yes. Is something wrong?”
“There’s a telephone call for you from Germany.”
“What?”
The woman shrugged in amazement. “From Stuttgart. I could barely understand the operator. She asked for you by name.”
Ellen cleared her throat to keep from smiling and followed the woman to the phone.
“Bitte, ist das eine Fraulein?”
Ellen glanced at the nurse and lowered her voice out of her hearing. “Ja. So?”
“Ach, I had to know,” Meredith answered in a strong German accent. How is the boy?”
“Barely awake. With a very bad headache, I think.”
“But he’ll live.”
“I’m sure of it.”
“Good. Then I can ask the rest. What the devil is going on? I threw the runes last night after you called and this thing about a third party came up. A reference to your ghost, I’m sure. We need to go out there, Ellen. To the mansion. You’re being called there for some reason.” Meredith’s voice was so soft, Ellen had trouble hearing. But this was to be expected because she was phoning from Jeff’s office; Ellen could hear faint barking in the background. “I think we need to confront this spook and find out what it’s up to.”
Ellen glanced toward the nurse. “I think you may be right about going out there to the mansion after all the dreams about it.”
“Vee must, meine kleine Freunde. Und soon. Soon. Auf Wiedersehen.”
Ellen hung up with a shudder. Meredith meant for them to go inside. They had prowled around the grounds countless times over the years, but had never thought of breaking in. Ellen’s head swam. At least a thousand times she had pictured the inside of that house. That girl, Carolyn, had described it as magnificent. Other kids, including Meredith, thought she was embellishing to show off, but Ellen wanted to believe it was as resplendent as Carolyn’s stories implied.
Seconds after she had hung up the phone, it rang again. She picked it up on the first ring. “Hello?”
“Is he conscious?” Meredith asked in her own voice.
“Just barely. He’s in a lot of pain.”
“I wanted to warn you. Don’t kiss him when he is unconscious or asleep. It’s monstrously bad luck to do that.”
“Oh, Mere! For heaven’s sake!”
“Deadly serious. The gypsy told me. To kiss an unconscious man is very bad luck. Oh, I know you claim not to be superstitious. I also know you respect my infinite wisdom in these matters.”
“I don’t know why you’d think I’d kiss him, anyhow.”
“It’s just a precautionary comment, that’s all. How long are you going to be hanging around there?”
“Until I know he’s really all right, I suppose.”
“Just don’t get carried away and kiss him.”
The nurse wouldn’t let her back into Cody’s room, but assured her he was just undergoing tests. Not to worry.
I’ll worry if I damned well please, Ellen thought. No one else was here to worry about him, no one else to care. Cody wasn’t alone, though. He did have someone—he had her.
The noon hour came and went. She was due at the truck stop at two. She couldn’t hang around here keeping chairs warm when she had to be at work. Reluctantly, Ellen left the hospital, scarcely feeling the sunshine when it touched her face.
At the café, co-workers and customers were talking about last night’s accident. Everyone assumed the two of them had been together; what else could they think? And Ellen could hardly admit it wasn’t true, so she said nothing. The wrist she’d twisted on the steps of the police station hurt every time she lifted a heavy plate. The radio was a constant distraction—the station was playing a tape of a previously recorded show. All Ellen could think about was seeing him again.
She returned home to a dark house. Her grandfather was not in bed, but sitting at the front window staring out at the stars.
“I am tired, my Ellen,” he said softly.
She joined him at the window, sliding an arm affectionately around his thin waist. “Then why aren’t you in bed, Gramps?”
He turned his head and smiled wistfully. “I am another kind of tired.” His hand came to rest on hers. “Do you believe in angels, darlin’? In guardian angels?”
She swallowed. “Yes. I most certainly do.”
“And so you should, for they are real.”
They sat side by side in the dark, looking up at the night sky. Her heart was filled with love. And trepidation. After a long silence, she asked, “Why did
you ask about the angels?”
Again the smile softened his weathered face. “I have heard them singing these nights.”
Tears sprang to her eyes.
His hand rose gently in protest. “It’s fine music, not sad. Actually, it’s a good song to dance to, that’s what I think. Dancing with the angels, now that’ll be a kick.”
She lowered her head sideways, against his shoulder, and whispered, “You don’t feel good lately, do you, Gramps?”
“I told you, I’m just tired. I miss your grandmother. She’s waiting for me, you know.”
“Yes. I know.”
“Nothin’ to cry about.”
Her arm tightened around him. “I love you, Gramps.”
* * *
IN THE MORNING, HE WAS out working in the garden when Ellen opened her window. She wondered if he had slept at all, but wouldn’t ask. Her grandfather deserved the dignity of not being fussed over like a frail old man. He was in control of his life, had always been, and he had taught her to take control, too. It was the most valuable lesson she had ever learned.
No more was said about last night. After an earlier-than-usual breakfast, he took to his favorite chair to read, and Ellen, wearing a crisp white blouse and flowered cotton skirt and sandals, set out for the hospital.
* * *
SHE CLUTCHED HER SMALL handbag, feeling the pounding of her heart as she entered his room. Cody lay on his back with his eyes closed. As if he sensed a presence, his eyes slowly opened.
“You’re awake,” she said barely above a whisper.
“I’d rather not be.” His voice was raspy.
She winced. “Cody...how can I thank you for what you did, pushing me out of the way? You were hurt saving me.”
He gazed up at her. “You’re okay?”
“Yes. But you’re not. You’re in a lot of pain.”
“It was a dream...” he said.
This again? She leaned closer. “You lying here in that hospital bed is not a dream. As much as I wish it were. The truth is that I probably owe my life to you. I don’t understand where you came from, in the storm.”