John Saul - Comes the Blind Fury

“It doesn’t matter,” Amanda whispered. “It will make it easy. Michelle, it will be so easy, and when she’s gone — when Jennifer’s gone — everything will be like it used to be. Can’t you see?”

Michelle turned it over in her mind, listening all the while to Amanda’s gentle voice, whispering to her, reassuring her. It all began to make sense.

It was Jennifer’s fault.

If there were no Jennifer.…

Michelle drifted off to sleep with Amanda close to her, crooning to her, whispering to her.

And when she was asleep, Amanda told her what she had to do.

It made sense to Michelle now.

All of it.…

As the week dragged by, June became increasingly upset. Several times, she was tempted to ask Tim Hartwick to change his schedule, and see her family sooner. But she resisted the temptation, telling herself she was becoming hysterical.

By the time Friday came, she wondered if it was too late. The Pendletons could hardly be called a family anymore. Michelle had withdrawn even further, going off to school silently each day, then returning home only to disappear into her room.

June found herself pausing in the upstairs hall too often, standing outside Michelle’s door, listening.

She would hear Michelle’s voice, soft, barely audible, the words undecipherable. There would be pauses, as if Michelle were listening to someone else, but June knew she was alone in her room.

Alone, except for Amanda.

Several times during those days, June tried to bridge the gulf that was widening between her and her husband, but Cal seemed impervious to her overtures. He left for the clinic early each morning and stayed late each evening, coming home only in time to play with Jennifer for a few minutes, then retiring early.

And Jennifer.

It was as if Jennifer sensed the tension in the house. Her laughter, the happy gurgling that June had grown so used to, had completely disappeared. She seldom even cried anymore, as if she were afraid to create any kind of disturbance.

June spent as much time as she could in her studio, trying to paint, but more often than not she merely stared at her empty canvas, not really seeing it. Several times she started to dig through the closet, to find the strange sketch she knew she hadn’t done. Something stopped her — fear.

She was afraid that if she looked at it long enough, thought about it hard enough, she would figure out where it had come from. She didn’t want to.

When Friday morning finally came, June felt suddenly released. Today, at last, they would see Tim Hartwick. And today, perhaps, things would begin to get better.

For the first time that week, June broke the silence that had lain heavily over the breakfast table.

“I’ll pick you up at school today,” she told Michelle.

Michelle looked at her questioningly. June tried to make her smile reassuring.

“I’m meeting your father after school today. We’re all going to talk to Mr. Hartwick.” “Mr. Hartwick? The psychologist? Why?”

“I just think it would be a good idea, that’s all,” June said.

• • •

Tim Hartwick smiled at Michelle as she came into his office, and gestured toward a chair. Michelle settled herself into it, then surveyed the room. Tim waited quietly until her eyes finally came back to him.

“I thought my parents were going to be here, too.”

“I’m going to talk to them a little later. First, I thought we could get acquainted.” “I’m not crazy,” Michelle said. “I don’t care what anybody told you.” “No one told me anything,” Tim assured her. “But I guess you know what I do here.” Michelle nodded. “Do you think I did something to Susan Peterson?” Tim was taken aback. “Did you?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then why should I think you did?”

“Everybody else does.” There was a pause, then: “Except Amanda.”

“Amanda?” Tim asked. “Who’s Amanda?”

“She’s my friend.”

“I thought I knew everyone here,” Tim said carefully. “But I don’t know anybody named Amanda.” “She doesn’t go to school,” Michelle said. Tim watched her carefully, trying to read her face, but there was nothing to read — as far as he could tell, Michelle was now quite relaxed.

“Why doesn’t she go to school?” Tim asked.

“She can’t. She’s blind.”

“Blind?”

Michelle nodded. “She can’t see at all, except when she’s with me. Her eyes look strange, all milky.” “And where did you meet her?”

Michelle thought for a long time before she answered him. Finally she shrugged. “I’m not sure. I guess I must have met her out by our house. That’s where she lives.” Tim decided to drop the subject for a moment. “How’s your leg? Does it hurt very badly?” “It’s all right” She paused, then seemed to change her mind. “Well, sometimes it hurts worse than others. And sometimes it hardly hurts at all.” “When is that?”

“When I’m with Amanda. I–I guess she sort of takes my mind off it I think that’s why we’re such good friends. She’s blind, and I’m crippled.” “Weren’t you friends before you fell?” Tim asked, sensing something important.

“No. I saw her a couple of times, but I didn’t really get to know her until after the accident. Then she started visiting me.” “Didn’t you have a doll named Amanda?” Tim asked suddenly. Michelle only nodded.

“I still do. Except that it isn’t really my doll. Actually, it was Mandy’s doll, but now we share it.” “I see.”

“I’m glad someone does,” Michelle said.

“You mean some people don’t?”

“Mom doesn’t. She thinks I made Amanda up. I guess she thinks that because they have the same name. Amanda and the doll, I mean.” “Well, it could get confusing.”

“I guess,” Michelle agreed. “Actually, at first I thought they were the same, too. But they’re not. Amanda’s real, and the doll’s not.” “What do you and Amanda do together?”

“Talk, mostly. But sometimes we go for walks together.”

“What do you talk about?”

“All kinds of things.”

Tim decided to try a shot in the dark. “Was Amanda with you the day Susan Peterson fell off the bluff?” Michelle nodded.

“Were you in the graveyard?”

“Yes. Susan was saying mean things to me, but Mandy made her stop.” “How did she do that?”

“She chased her away.”

“You mean she chased her off the bluff?”

“I don’t know,” Michelle said slowly. The thought had never occurred to her before. “Maybe so. I couldn’t see — it was foggy that day.… Mom said it wasn’t, but it was.” Tim leaned forward, and his face grew serious. “Michelle, is it always foggy when Amanda is with you?” Michelle thought a moment, then shook her head. “No. Sometimes it is, but not all the time.” Tim nodded. “What about your other friends? Do they know Amanda?”

“I don’t have any other friends.”

“None?”

Michelle’s voice dropped. Her eyes seemed to cloud over. “Ever since I fell off the bluff, nobody wants to be my friend.” “What about your sister?” Tim asked. “Isn’t your sister your friend?” “She’s just a baby.” There was a long silence, but Tim was reluctant to break it, sure that Michelle was about to say something. He was right.

“Besides,” Michelle added, her voice little more than a whisper, “she’s not really my sister.” “She isn’t?”

“I’m adopted. Jenny’s not.”

“Does that bother you?”

“I don’t know,” Michelle hedged. “Amanda says …”

“What does Amanda say?” Tim urged her.

“Amanda says that ever since Jenny was born, Mom and Dad don’t love me anymore.” “And do you believe her?”