Katherine's Prophecy

by Scott Wittenburg

  “Don’t worry about it, Dad, I understand. How is Mom, anyway?”

  “She’s much better now. In fact, she’s standing here right now practically yanking the phone out of my hand. Here, I’ll put her on. Great hearing from you, son!”

  Lenny heard his father handing the phone to his mother. “Hi, Lenny!” she said, on the verge of tears.

  “Hi, Mom. Sorry I’ve put you two through all of this,” he said.

  “You’ll never know how good it is to hear the sound of your voice! You sure have given us a scare, sonny!”

  “Well, you don’t have to worry about me anymore; I’m among the living again. How are things back in the Buckeye State?” he asked, trying desperately to downplay the whole ordeal.

  “Same old same old,” she replied. “When are they going to let you out of the hospital so you can come down and see us?”

  “I wish I knew the answer to that. Dr. Sanderson told me I have to go through physical therapy, which could last for a week or two,” he replied despairingly.

  “Well, you have to do as they say, Lenny. They know what’s best for you.” she said.

  “I know, Mom. It’s just that I feel like I’ve already been robbed of two weeks of my life. I’d like to get on with it before it totally passes me by,” Lenny lamented.

  “You’ll catch up,” his mother said with a chuckle.

  “Jesus, Mom! I just remembered that I don’t have any health insurance! Who’s paying for all of this?”

  “That’s already been taken care of. The taxi cab driver was fully insured, and the cab company’s insurance is picking up the tab.” she replied.

  Lenny heaved a sigh of relief. He knew this was costing a small fortune, and his parents were in no shape to handle it. “I’m sure glad to hear that,” he said.

  “By the way, have you heard from your little lady friend yet?”

  “You mean Julie?”

  “No, not Julie. I believe her name was Emily. She was a passenger in the taxi cab that hit you,” his mother said.

  “No, I haven’t talked to any Emily. This is the first I’ve heard about it,” he said, his curiosity aroused.

  “Well, I have a feeling you’ll be hearing from her soon. She stopped by the hospital a couple of times while we were there. Apparently she feels it’s her fault that the cab driver hit you and wants to apologize. She was a very nice young woman, and I can tell you now that she had little if anything to do with that cab driver running the red light. The driver assumed all of the blame himself and never even mentioned this Emily woman in the police report. Your father and I both pointed this out to her but she still insisted that she owed you an apology.”

  “This is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard!” Lenny said. “At any rate, my guess is that she’s already given up her quest—I think Dr. Sanderson would have mentioned this Emily woman if she was still trying to get in touch with me.”

  “Well, all I can say is that she seemed awfully determined so don’t be surprised if you hear from her some day.”

  Lenny chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind, Mom. Well, I’ve been advised to keep this call brief and get some sleep, so I’d better get off before my nurse gets mad at me. I’ll call you again tomorrow and let you know how things are going. I love you, Mom. And tell Dad the same.”

  “I love you too, honey. Please take care and let us know if you need anything.”

  “Okay, Mom. Talk to you later.”

  “Goodbye, Lenny.”

  Brenda took the receiver from Lenny’s ear and hung it up.

  “Thanks, Brenda.” Lenny said.

  “You’re welcome,” she smiled. “I’ll bet they were happy to hear from you.”

  “Yeah, they were. I hate to think of how worried they’ve been—especially my mom.” Lenny said. He paused a moment and then said, “Do you by any chance know anything about a woman named Emily? My mom said she was here a couple of times while I was, uh, unconscious.”

  “No, I’m afraid not. But I can ask Dr. Sanderson if you’d like.” she offered.

  “That’s okay, it’s no big deal. I’ll ask him when he comes back.”

  “You’d better try to get some sleep, now. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “No thanks.” Lenny replied.

  “Well, just press this little button if you need anything,” she said, gesturing to the call button draped over the side rail of the bed.

  “I will, Brenda. Thanks, again.” Lenny said.

  “You’re welcome, Lenny. Pleasant dreams,” she smiled and then left the room.

  Lenny watched her as she left then turned his head and stared up at the stark white hospital ceiling; realizing just then how totally exhausted he felt. His mind however was awhirl, and everything that had happened was just now beginning to sink in.

  He found it hard to conceive that he’d been unconscious for two weeks—dead to the world—while the rest of the world lived on. It was like dying then suddenly coming back to life again. In fact, according to Dr. Sanderson, he was fortunate to be alive now . . .

  He suddenly felt his eyes growing heavy and tried to force himself to stay awake but knew it was a battle he wasn’t going to win. His mind was quickly becoming one big blur with millions of thoughts and questions all jumbled up and running into each other.

  He needed sleep . . .

  Lenny closed his eyes and almost immediately fell asleep.

  CHAPTER 14

  Lenny Williams glanced momentarily across the room at the flowers sitting on the table. Two days after he’d come out the coma, a hospital volunteer had brought the flowers in to him, explaining that they’d been delivered by a special courier service to the flower room on his floor. His curiosity piqued, Lenny had taken out the card from the arrangement and read the neatly handwritten message:

  Sorry about the accident. Hope you have a speedy recovery! Sincerely, Emily Hoffman.

  Emily Hoffman, Lenny had assumed, was the same Emily who had been in the cab that had hit him. But that was about all he knew about this mysterious woman, except for what little his mother had told him about her over the phone.

  Lenny had already questioned Dr. Sanderson about Emily, but the doctor had had no recollection of anyone besides his parents coming to see him while he’d been in a coma. The doctor suggested that Lenny check with the floor nurse who had been on duty on the night of the accident.

  When he’d finally tracked her down, the floor nurse told Lenny that a woman named Emily had shown up at the hospital not long after he’d been admitted. She said that Emily had hung around in the waiting room for a few hours then had suddenly disappeared. The floor nurse told him that she hadn’t seen Emily since, but that she had received calls from her on a daily basis, requesting his status. Emily always identified herself as a friend of the family, and Lenny subsequently learned that his mother had authorized Emily’s name to be put on the patient information list while she and his father had been there.

  Lenny had assumed that the sending of the flowers was Emily Hoffman’s official apology for being partly to blame for the cab driver running the red light and nailing him, and that it would be the last he’d ever hear from her. He had eyed the flower arrangement inquisitively, feeling compelled to try and learn a little more about the elusive Emily Hoffman. He had searched the arrangement for some kind of identification to its source, but found nothing; not even the name and address of the florist. Then he’d picked up the wicker basket containing the flowers and spotted a paper sticker stuck to the bottom that read: Handcrafted by J.L. Coombs, Ashland Falls, NY.

  This discovery had at least cleared a couple of things up. It helped explain why the flower arrangement hadn’t been delivered by a local florist, and why it had been delivered by a special courier instead: the sender had apparently sent it from out of town—perhaps even from a town called Ashland Falls. And this might have been the reason why Emily Hoffman hadn’t shown up in person. Because Emily Hoffman didn’t live in the city.


  Lenny recalled what his mother had told him—that Emily Hoffman had seemed hell-bent on apologizing to him—and the more he thought about it, the more unlikely it seemed that Emily Hoffman would settle on just sending him a flower arrangement and a brief note as a means of achieving this. Maybe, he thought, she had originally intended on meeting him in person, but for one reason or another hadn’t yet had the opportunity to do so. In the meantime, she had sent the flowers as a token of her sincerity until she had the opportunity to get in touch with him in person.

  Lenny had had plenty of free time to dwell on such things, and this was probably why he found himself pondering the subject of Emily Hoffman so intently. His physical therapy sessions had been the highlight of his days for the last two weeks; the remainder of his time had been spent reading, watching television, and anything else he could find to do to while away the hours.

  With the exception of Willie Rodriguez, he’d had no visitors in all this time. Willie was the super of his apartment building in Queens, and the two had occasionally hung out together. When Lenny had called to inform him of what had happened, Willie had been sympathetic and offered to help him out in any way that he could. Lenny had graciously accepted his offer, so Willie had promptly brought him some of his personal belongings and dropped by periodically thereafter to give Lenny his mail and any messages that had been retrieved on his answering machine.

  Lenny had contacted his clients by phone and explained his situation to them, promising to send them their orders as soon as was earthly possible. There had been very little activity in terms of any new business, taking into account the lack of prospective clientele on his answering machine, and this realization had neither surprised nor concerned him.

  He’d given it a lot of thought and was as determined as ever to get out of New York and start a new life somewhere else. He’d begun researching potential destinations, but hadn’t yet made a decision. He was just thankful to be alive, and because of this, felt that anything he did from here on out would be a blessing. His narrow escape from death had suddenly altered his philosophy on life and he realized that he had become, in a sense, a changed man.

  Tomorrow, Lenny thought, he would be out of here. His physical therapist had all but assured him of this. In less than twenty-four hours, he’d be able to go home to his apartment in Queens and get back to living again.

  He couldn’t wait.

  Lenny’s eyes returned to the book he was reading. Turning a page, he reflected.

  A week after he’d received the flowers, the telephone had rung. It was Emily Hoffman.

  The conversation had been brief. Emily had identified herself and asked Lenny if he’d received the flowers that she’d sent him. He’d replied that he had and thanked her and then asked her where she had gotten them. She replied that she’d picked them up at a little craft shop in upstate New York and then had hastily changed the subject by asking him how he was feeling. He’d told her that he was fine, but couldn’t wait to get out of the hospital because he was bored to death. She had laughed—a very warm and friendly laugh—then suggested that he try getting into a big, fat book to while away the hours—a classic, perhaps.

  She asked him if he’d ever read Crime and Punishment by Dostoyevsky, and Lenny had facetiously told her that he was a big fan of Feodor’s, but that he’d never quite gotten around to cracking the masterpiece. Then all of a sudden, out of the clear blue, she’d told him that she had to go. Before he’d had a chance to recover from her abruptness, Emily told him that she would be in touch and then had hung up the phone in his ear.

  The next day, Lenny had received a copy of Crime And Punishment via special courier. The enclosed card had read: Don’t try to read this in one day! and was signed by Emily Hoffman. He had screwed up, though. He’d signed for the package but never thought to ask the courier the address of the sender. There had been no return address anywhere on the plain brown paper wrapping.

  The arrival of the book and the all too brief conversation with Emily Hoffman had only served to make Lenny even more intrigued by her. She’d become a paradox of sorts; a total stranger who seemed to be genuinely concerned about him, yet at the same time wouldn’t allow herself to get too close. Her behavior was as inexplicable as it was inconsistent, and he found himself faced with yet more questions needing to be answered: Why had she cut off their phone conversation so suddenly? Why had she sent him the book? And why she was being so damn secretive about everything; not divulging so much as a clue as to where she lived or why she’d waited an entire week to ask him if he’d received the flowers.

  Later that same evening, he’d been lying in bed reading the book, when the phone had rung again. When he answered it, there had been no response on the other end. He had said hello again, but the line remained silent. Thinking that the hospital switchboard had screwed-up, he’d started to hang up and then suddenly thought he heard what sounded like Emily Hoffman’s voice, weak and shaky, say his name. A very strange and disturbing conversation had ensued:

  “Emily, is that you?” Lenny asked.

  A pause. “Yes . . . it’s me.”

  “What’s wrong? You sound . . . strange.”

  Another pause. “I . . . I can’t sleep.”

  He glanced at his wristwatch and saw that it was nearly ten o’clock. He wondered why anyone would want to go to bed this early. “Why can’t you sleep?”

  Another pause. Longer than the last one.

  “Emily?” he said, suddenly sensing that something was very wrong here.

  “Yes?”

  Her voice sounded even weaker. As if she was incoherent—or drugged-out.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry I called you. I’ll let you go . . .”

  “No, please don’t! Talk to me,” Lenny pleaded, afraid that she was going to hang up on him again as she had the night before.

  Silence.

  “Emily, are you still there?”

  A pause. “Yes.”

  “Listen to me. I don’t know what’s wrong, but you sound like you’re in some kind of trouble. Please talk to me! Tell me what’s going on.” He was beginning to feel desperate; like he was walking on eggshells. He knew that if he said the wrong thing, she’d hang up on him.

  There was another pause. Then Emily said, “I can’t bother you with this. I really should go now.”

  Her voice had softened a little. Lenny had the slightest feeling that she was reaching out to him and didn’t really want to go.

  “No, you shouldn’t. And you’re not bothering me in the least. I’m a very bored man, remember?”

  She laughed softly, which surprised him. It was that same warm, friendly laugh he’d heard the night before.

  “Did you get the book I sent you?” she asked.

  “Yes, I did. Thank you.”

  “Why aren’t you reading it?”

  “I am reading it—it’s right here on my lap—honest!” he exclaimed.

  She laughed again. “I believe you, Lenny. Are you enjoying it?”

  “Yeah, it’s really good. It’s sort of like a psychological thriller in a way, don’t you think?” he said, taking a stab.

  She waited before answering, as though she was pondering the question. “Yes, I guess you could say that.”

  Lenny wanted to keep the ball rolling. “Have you ever read any Thomas Hardy?”

  “Yes, I love him! Why do you ask?” Her voice was more animated now.

  “I was just curious. I really like him, too. I think it’s weird the way he wanted to be accepted more as a poet than as a novelist. I’m not too big on poetry, but the guy could definitely spin a yarn!”

  There was another pause. Lenny’s mind was racing forward in search of anything he might say that would keep her on the line.

  Then she suddenly said, “Do you like history, Lenny?”

  He was caught off-guard by the question. “Uh, what do you mean?”

  “Never mind. I was just . . . wondering.”


  Lenny started to panic. Had he said the wrong thing? Quickly, he said the first thing that popped into his head. “I think history is interesting. It seems that life was a lot less complicated the further back you go into it. But I have to admit that I’m more interested in the future.”

  There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

  “Are you still there, Emily?”

  “Yes, I’m here. I was just thinking about what you just said. It was very . . . interesting. My therapist would have loved it . . .”

  Therapist? Lenny thought. Suddenly, he put two and two together and didn’t like what it added up to.

  “Emily?”

  “Yes?”

  “Can I ask you something? And will you answer me honestly?”

  A brief pause, then, “I’ll try.”

  He hesitated and then said. “Are you, uh, under the influence of any kind of drug right now?”

  Silence. You could slice through it with a knife.

  “Emily?”

  “Yes,” she replied, sounding listless again.

  “Can you answer my question?”

  “Yes . . . I am.”

  Lenny felt his heart skip a beat. “What kind of drug is it?”

  “It’s just a sleeping pill. But it doesn’t work,” she replied, apparently disappointed.

  “How many have you taken?” Lenny asked.

  “Just one.”

  “Are you telling me the truth?”

  “Yes, Lenny. I only took one.” she replied, sounding a little annoyed.

  He heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

  “Lenny?”

  “Yes, Emily.”

  “I’m really sorry the taxi cab hit you. It was my fault. Please forgive me.”

  Lenny was taken aback by her abruptness. It couldn’t have come at a more unlikely time. He said, “It wasn’t your fault, Emily, believe me. The cabbie ran the light, not you. He has confessed to his crime, and he’s been charged for it. His company’s insurance is paying my hospital bill and everything’s all right. Okay?”