John Saul - Comes the Blind Fury

“No.” Michelle’s voice was uncertain. “It must have been closed when I came in. Maybe that’s why you didn’t hear Jenny.”

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter.” But it did matter, and June knew it. Something was happening — something she didn’t want to think about. She went over to the crib, and picked Jenny up. The baby was sleeping now, making little mewling sounds. As she picked her up, Jenny coughed a little, then relaxed in her mother’s arms. June smiled at Michelle. “See? All it takes is a mother’s loving arms.” She looked more closely at Michelle. Her eyes were clear, and she didn’t look as though she’d been asleep only a few minutes ago.”

“Couldn’t you sleep, honey?”

“No. I was just talking to Amanda. Then Jenny started crying, so I came in here.”

“Well, let me get her settled, then we’ll have a little talk, okay?”

Michelle’s eyes clouded over. For a moment June was afraid she was going to refuse. But then Michelle shrugged. “Okay.”

June tucked Jennifer back into the crib, then offered Michelle her arm to lean on. “Where’s your cane?”

“I left it in my room.”

“Well, that’s a good sign,” June said hopefully. But as they went down the hall, it seemed to her that Michelle could barely walk. She said nothing, however, until Michelle was settled in her bed, propped up against the pillows. “Does it hurt badly?” She touched Michelle’s hip gently.

“Sometimes. Now. But sometimes not. When Amanda’s around, it’s better.”

“Amanda,” June repeated the name softly. “Do you know who Amanda is?”

“Not really,” Michelle said. “But I think she used to live here.”

“When?”

“A long time ago.”

“Where does she live now?”

“I’m not sure. I guess she still lives here.”

“Michelle — does Amanda want something?”

Michelle nodded her head. “She wants to see something. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s something Amanda has to see. And I can show it to her.”

“You? How?”

“I–I don’t know. But I know I can help her. And she’s my friend, so I have to help her, don’t I?”

It sounded to June like a plea for reassurance. “Of course you do,” she said. “If she’s truly your friend. But what if she’s not your friend? What if she really wants to hurt you?”

“But she doesn’t,” Michelle said. “I know she doesn’t. Amanda would never hurt me. Never.” As June watched, her daughter’s eyes closed, and she fell asleep.

June sat with her for a long time, holding her hand, and watching her sleep. Then, as the first faint light began burning through the darkness, June kissed Michelle lightly and returned to bed.

She tried to sleep, but her thoughts, so carefully banished, came back to haunt her.

She hadn’t heard Jenny cry because the door was closed.

But they never closed the door.

And Michelle had been holding a pillow.

June left her bed once again, and went back into the nursery.

Carefully, she locked the door leading to the hall and put the key in the pocket of her robe.

Only then was she able to sleep, and she hated herself for it.

Saturday morning.

On any ordinary Saturday morning, June would have awakened slowly, stretched luxuriously, then rolled over and slid her arms around her husband.

But it had been a long time since she had done that, on Saturday morning or any other morning.

On this Saturday morning, she was wide awake, and tired.

She glanced at the clock — nine thirty.

She turned the other way, to see if Cal was still sleeping.

He was gone.

June lifted herself into a sitting position, about to get up, then let herself lean back against the pillows. Her gaze wandered to the window.

Outside the sky was leaden, and the trees, their remaining leaves having lost their sparkle in the gray light, were beginning to look thin and tired. Soon the leaves would be gone entirely. June shivered a little, anticipating the coming winter.

She began listening for the familiar sounds of morning — Jennifer should be crying, and she should be able to hear Cal, banging around the kitchen, pretending to be fixing his breakfast when he was really only trying to wake her up.

But this morning, there was a silence hanging over the house.

“Hello?” June called tentatively.

There was no answer, so she got out of bed, put on her robe, then went to the nursery.

Jennifer’s crib was empty, and the door to the hall stood open. June frowned and went through the nursery to the hall. When she got to the top of the stairs, she called out again, louder.

“Hello! Where is everybody?”

“We’re down here!” It was Michelle, and as June heard her, she felt herself relax. It’s all right, she told herself. Nothing’s happened. It’s all right. It was only when she was halfway down the stairs that she realized how worried she had been, how much the silence of the morning had frightened her. Now, as she entered the kitchen, she assured herself that she was being silly. Last night’s imaginings fled.

“Hi! Everyone’s up so early.”

Cal glanced at her, then went back to scrambling a batch of eggs. “You were dead to the world this morning, and someone had to fix breakfast. And Michelle helped me, so it shouldn’t be a total loss.”

Michelle was setting the table. She looked tired, but as June winked at her she smiled slightly, apparently happy to be doing something with her father, even if it was only setting the table.

“Did you sleep all right, honey?” she asked.

“My hip was hurting pretty bad, but it’s all right this morning.”

There was a good feeling in the house, and June knew the reason for it — Billy Evans hadn’t died. Cal had saved him, not hurt him, and now, she was sure, everything was going to be all right. She wanted to say something, comment on the pleasant atmosphere, but she was afraid that if she did, she would destroy it. Instead, she went to the bassinet where Jennifer was sleeping peacefully.

“Well, at least I wasn’t the only one who slept in,” she said as she picked the baby up. Jenny opened her eyes and gurgled, then went back to sleep.

“She was up earlier,” Cal said. “I gave her a bottle about an hour ago. Do you want these on toast?”

“Fine,” June said absently. With Cal making breakfast, Michelle finishing with the table, and Jennifer asleep, she felt suddenly useless. “Do you want me to take over?”

“Too late,” Cal said. He served the eggs, added a couple of slices of bacon to each plate, and carried them to the table. As he sat down, he glanced at his watch.

“Do you have to go already?” June asked.

“The neurologist should be in by ten. I really ought to be there.”

“May I go in with you?” Michelle asked. Cal frowned, and June immediately shook her head.

“I think you’d better stay here today,” she said, carefully avoiding any mention of Billy Evans.

“But why?” Michelle asked. Her face started to cloud over, and June was sure there was going to be an argument. She could feel the comparatively relaxed atmosphere of the morning slipping away. She turned to Cal.

“Cal? What do you think?”

“I don’t know. I don’t suppose there’s any reason why she shouldn’t go along, really. But I don’t know how long I’ll be there,” he added, turning to Michelle. “You might get bored.”

“I just want to see Billy. Then I could go to the library. Or I could walk home.”

“All right,” Cal gave in. “But you can’t spend the whole day hanging around the clinic. Is that clear?”

“You used to let me,” Michelle complained.