Finding you, p.14
Finding You, page 14
He shook her and attempted to wake her. His sister had always crashed like the dead. But now, it brought unease. It was imperative he speak with her. If only to convince himself she was okay. He shook her again, a little rougher this time. A peep of protest escaped the nurse.
“What’s wrong with her? Is she drugged?” he demanded when he failed to wake her.
“No.” At his look, she raised her hands as if to defend herself. “No, I swear.”
The apprehension in the nurse’s eyes forced him to check his temper. James could be foul when the mood struck.
Yet spirits were spirits for a reason. They had abandoned their bodies. Sometimes it was spontaneous, as in death. Other times it was done deliberately, during deeper, darker practices. James hadn’t thought his sister knew of such things. Maybe she’d learned tools over time to help deal with her premonitions. If she practiced this, he intended to put a stop to it. There were consequences to dabbling in the darker arts.
“Sammy, I need you to wake up. Come on, Lil’ Bit. Wake up for me,” James tried to cajole. Her lack of response alarmed him. “Dammit, Samantha. Wake up! Right now!”
From the corner of his eye, he caught the nurse backing toward the door. Why the hell did she look so guilty?
He stalked to where she stood. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing,” she chirped in her fright.
“You’re lying. Out with it, woman!”
“Your parents didn’t want you to know. They…”
His eyes burned into her. He silently promised retribution.
The nurse, helpless and beyond afraid, confessed. “Ms. Holt was attacked by two of our orderlies. Then she… she lost her baby,” she squeaked out.
The air was sucked from his lungs. He glanced back at his sister, noting the pale, almost translucent look of her skin. “I don’t care what time it is, you get Dr. Montgomery here. Immediately! Or I’m taking her out of here.”
With a mumbled “of course,” she hurried from the room to do as he bid.
James moved to the foot of the bed. Sammy hadn’t so much as twitched. Sagging against the wall, he took deep breaths and worked to regain some semblance of control. The vicious desire to kill somebody swamped him. How could his parents keep something of this magnitude from him?
While waiting for Dr. Montgomery, James tried to get through to Sammy. He spent the remainder of the time pacing, waiting for answers. By the time her doctor finally arrived, James had worked himself into a fine frenzy. He charged over and gripped Stephen’s collar.
“What the fuck is going on with Sammy? No bullshit!”
“Mr. Holt, I need you to calm down. I understand your concern, and I’ll tell you everything, but not if you are going to threaten me or my staff.”
Dr. Montgomery was stern and no-nonsense. James respected his cool demeanor. With great effort, he reined in his excess of emotion. He stretched his neck to his chest and inhaled deeply. A little less agitated, he cast the doctor a rueful look.
“This is as calm as I’m going to get, Doc. Spill.”
“All right but not here. My office.”
As James followed Dr. Montgomery through the hallways, the beige-papered walls expanded, contracted, and pulsed with the spirits of the past. They threatened to close in on him. Patients had died here. Their souls lingered and waited for a justice that never came.
Jesus! What the hell did Sammy feel if he experienced this after only seconds in these haunted halls? Was she hiding in a self-induced-type of coma to avoid the constant waves of sensations she must have received from this wretched place?
He rubbed the tiredness from his eyes. After he was seated, the doctor explained the circumstances surrounding Sammy’s attack.
“Rob Marks? Who the hell hires a weasel to guard prized hens?”
“We do extensive background checks on all employees. He had no priors, and all his references were glowing,” Stephen told him stiffly.
“Was that son of a bitch the reason she lost the baby?” James asked, his voice hoarse and tight even to his own ears.
“It didn’t help, but no. She had been having problems earlier in the day. It is the medical opinion of both our staff GP and specialist that there was a high probability she would have miscarried anyway. Spontaneous abortion is what it’s called. It happens when conditions in the womb are not ideal. Genetically, something was off with the fetus.”
“To clarify, this happened the day she checked in?”
“Yes.”
“When were my parents notified?”
“Within a half hour of the incident.”
“Incident? That’s rich. So they knew, and for the last week, they lied to me.”
Dr. Montgomery said nothing. He didn’t need to.
James sat forward, hands steepled over his nose and mouth, and attempted to control his fury. Yesterday had been Christmas. The whole family had gathered for an early dinner. His parents had acted as if they didn’t have a worry in the world. He replayed the day in his mind. Annie might know. She had been quiet through it all. Although to be fair, it wasn’t unusual for her to be subdued at large family functions. A negative side effect of trying to stave off other people’s energy. He was glad he hadn’t received that particular curse, because it had to be exhausting. For sure, Margie did not know. His older sister didn’t have the ability to hide something so huge. She was the type of person who would lead the villagers to stone the miscreants who attacked her sister.
Dr. Montgomery cleared his throat. “I know it’s no consolation, but your parents have already talked to Gabriel James about filing a lawsuit against the hospital. He’ll see your sister is taken care of.”
“Money isn’t going to bring back her child, is it?”
“I wasn’t suggesting it would, but Samantha can use the settlement to tide her over after her release.” The strain around the doctor’s mouth and the regret in his eyes spoke volumes. He wasn’t a bad man, and he truly cared about Sammy’s welfare.
Dialing back his anger, James tried to understand why Sammy’s spirit wandered at night. He couldn’t imagine the energy it took. Like a sledgehammer, it hit him.
“What is she like during waking hours?”
The sharpening of Dr. Montgomery’s gaze confirmed a suspicion.
“Why do you ask?”
“Answer the question, Doc,” he bit out.
The long pause made James wonder if Stephen intended to say anything at all. However, James would wait all damned night if he had to.
With a sigh, Dr. Montgomery gave in.
“Her behavior disturbs me. She wakes up every morning and eats the food put in front of her. That’s it. She doesn’t look at anyone. Doesn’t interact with anyone in the room. Not doctors, staff, or other patients. After breakfast, Samantha will walk to the sunroom, find an empty chair, and ignore everything happening around her. She’s on a type of autopilot.”
“Is she cold?”
“Yes. We keep her dressed as warmly as possible, but her skin is always cold to the touch. How did you know?”
James was now positive Sammy dreamwalked while asleep. Nothing else explained her behavior. The dangers involved in dreamwalking made him fearful. James scrambled his brain to find a way to stop her.
“Just a guess, Doc.”
It wasn’t. Without a doubt, Sammy left her body each night to meet Michael. Was Michael somewhere, leaving his body, or was his friend calling to Sammy from beyond?
Chilled, James rubbed his arms.
His sister would follow Michael to hell if he asked her to, but that wasn’t a subject to discuss with good old, staid Dr. Montgomery. If he did, James would find himself in the room right next to Sammy’s.
At present, James stood in the doorway of the guest room and silently watched as his sister embraced Michael. She was happier than he ever remembered her being. The two of them moved to the couch to cuddle and whisper their sweet nothings to each other.
James had a bit more studying up on her condition to do. He didn’t have much longer to figure out how to save her. Sammy’s essence was strong here, as was Michael’s. Soon, maybe a month or two at the most, she would stop returning to her body in the mornings. He’d done enough research to be certain of the outcome.
And really, what did she have to return to? All she wanted was with her in the dream state.
He ruefully shook his head, belatedly realizing Sammy had assigned the right person to house-sit. Anyone else would have a freaking coronary if they heard the doors opening and closing at all hours of the night. The murmur of voices would set anyone else over the edge.
James glanced down at his sister’s dog, who watched the whole interchange between her two masters with her shiny blond head tilted. Longing was in her big brown eyes. His heart hurt for the little beastie. She must feel abandoned.
“Go on. Go hang with them. Tell your parents to keep it down so I can sleep, okay?”
Sammy went through the motions as she did each day. She woke at 7:30 that morning. Dressed in the required patient uniform of scrubs, added a zip-up hoodie to ward off the constant cold, and headed to breakfast. She sat through group therapy. Spent a half hour subjected to Dr. Montgomery’s attempt to pierce her fog, then wandered into the sunroom to spend the day observing dust dance on sunbeams. In her mind, she compiled all the subjects she intended to discuss with Michael that night. When it was time for bed, she went through her nightly ritual: wash her face, brush her teeth, change into pajamas. Excitement ran through her veins, and she curled up on the bed to welcome sleep and, with it, Michael.
Sammy arrived at their house first, as she frequently did. She greeted their Sassy. A smile twisted her lips at the memory of Michael naming their little pup on the day they’d first brought her home from the shelter. He said she liked to talk back, like his Sammy. He’d pretended the light punch she gave him was no peskier than a bug bite and had wrestled her to the ground. Much to the delight of Sassy, who, living up to her name, barked and gave them hell.
Grinning at the memory, Sammy continued to wander the house. It shouldn’t be long. Michael usually showed up within a short time of her arrival. Of course, time differed in a dream state, but she was certain it would be mere minutes.
She took multiple walks throughout the house, becoming more unsettled with each passing moment. Most of the night flew by with no Michael. Something was wrong.
“Michael?” she called out. “Michael, are you here?”
Silence was her answer.
“Michael? If this is a game, it isn’t funny!”
Frantic, she ran through the house, opening and slamming doors.
“Michael?”
“He’s not here, Sammy.”
She whirled around to find James standing in the middle of her living room. He stood there, rumpled and sleepy. A deep furrow marred his forehead.
“It’s almost dawn. You need to go back.”
“Where is he? What did you do?” she demanded.
“Sammy, you need to listen to me. You’ve been gone from your body too long. You have to go back.”
She backed away with a violent shake of her head and ran from room to room, screaming Michael’s name.
“What did you do, Jamie? What did you do?” When his head moved in denial, she raged. “You did! You had to have. Michael wouldn’t leave me without a word like this.”
“Lil’ Bit.” The nickname cut through her rising hysteria like nothing else could. “I’ve watched you and Michael meet for the better part of two months now. His spirit was growing dimmer. You didn’t notice, but I did. He’s gone. It’s time for you to come back.”
* * *
James watched his sister’s eyes go dead as she acknowledged the truth. Perhaps she had noticed.
“I want to go with him,” she whispered. “Why won’t anyone let me go?”
A lump formed in his throat and prevented him from answering. He’d never experienced a love like theirs. Powerful. All-consuming. He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to if it brought such destructive behavior as hers. He would have hugged her if she was corporeal, but at the moment, he felt completely helpless.
“Go then.” James shocked his little sister along with himself. Wouldn’t it be better if she died and moved on than wandered around like a damned wraith? At times, he thought so.
Oddly enough, his words pissed her off instead of offering release. Or maybe not so oddly. It made sense she’d get riled. Sammy was a fighter—at least she had been until Michael died.
“What?”
“Go! Just fucking go already, Sammy!” James shouted into her outraged face. He hoped like hell he could provoke her out of this apathetic state she’d settled into. “Do you honestly think anyone wants you to stay if this is what we’re left with? This pathetic shell of who you were?”
“You don’t get to talk to me that way. Not you, Jamie. You don’t know what I’ve been through,” she cried.
“Who else if not me, Sammy? No one else knows you’ve been dreamwalking to meet him. You got your goodbye. It was more than most people get. But now he’s gone.” He watched her face crumble in grief. James gentled his tone. “Oh, Lil’ Bit. Come back to us now. We all miss you.”
Sammy jerked awake. The clock showed six-forty-five a.m. It was the absolute latest she’d ever been gone. Her eyes were gritty, and exhaustion weighed heavily on her. Maybe she would rest for a bit longer. Today she didn’t have the will or the energy to dress. What did it matter anyway? Jamie’s harsh words washed over her but were soon forgotten. Sleep claimed her.
When next she woke, Sammy spotted James dozing in the chair on her left. If she had the energy, she would have smiled at how ridiculous his big body looked, stuffed into such a tiny chair. Light poured through the blinds, and she blinked in confusion. How long had she been sleeping? The growling of her stomach spoke of her many missed meals.
She shifted to sit up. Dizziness assailed her and laid her flat again. Damn, she was weak and achy. Deciding rest was her best option, Sammy rolled onto her side to silently observe James, curious as to why he was in her room. Had something happened to one of the family? Had he discovered what happened to Micha—No! She couldn’t let her mind wander there right now. To think their connection was severed upset her too much.
Focusing all her attention on her brother, Sammy noted the tired lines of his face even at rest. Dark purple shadows under his eyes indicated little to no sleep. How long had he been able to see spirits? Why had he never said anything to any of them? Was this something else her mother had swept under the rug in her effort to not disturb their father’s peace of mind?
As if sensing her regard, James opened his eyes, took a deep breath, and rubbed his palms over his face. His gaze sought hers, and his worry showed just below the surface. Sammy tried to convey that she was fine with a quick twist of her lips. Siblings had a type of body language all their own. What they felt was easily established with micro expressions.
“Good to see you back in the land of the living, Lil’ Bit. You had me worried,” James’s voice was rough, packed full of emotion.
“Whe… when… did you…?” Sammy’s voice was rusty with disuse and lack of moisture. She swallowed and tried again. “When did you start seeing spirits?”
“Seven.”
“Seven months ago?”
“No. I was seven.”
“How did I never know this?” she whispered, hand to throat.
James jumped up to pour water into a cup. He handed it to her and perched on the side of her bed. He took his time forming the words, and Sammy didn’t push. While she waited, she guzzled her drink. The water was cool and refreshing. She could have downed a gallon, but a more pressing need was the bathroom. Not until she got answers first.
“You know we weren’t encouraged to talk about our gifts growing up. When I needed someone to speak with, well… then it was no longer a big deal. I learned to control it for the most part. There are still some disturbances, and I avoid places that contain multiple spirits if I can help it. Annie knows.”
Sammy snorted. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? That chick is like a one-way vault. Things go in and get locked up tight, never to see the light of day again.”
James laughed. “Yeah, that’s our sister.”
“Do you suppose Margie inherited something we don’t know about?”
She could see her question intrigued James.
“I honestly never thought about it. Wait, inherited? What makes you say inherited?”
“Seriously? You don’t know about Mom and Pop Pop?”
“Are you trying to tell me they both have gifts?” James was indignant.
“Not cool when family has secrets, is it?” Sammy taunted. “Anyway. Yes, Mom is like me. She gets premonitions by way of dreams. Though not as consistent or as strong as I get them. Pop was an empath, like Annie. Until now, I’ve never heard of anyone seeing spirits or ghosts. Though I suppose if anyone did, it would probably have been Pop’s brother. Do you remember Uncle Tommy? He always had a haunted look about him, didn’t he?”
“You’re right. I’ll have to ask Mom.”
“Ya know, it doesn’t make sense that Margie wouldn’t have anything if we all did.”
“Unless she got most of Dad’s DNA.”
“I suppose there is that. So seven, huh? That must’ve been frightening when it first happened.”
“You have no idea.”
* * *
James nodded, recalling the first time. The fright had caused him to wet his pants. “Terrifying. Since then, I’ve been able to see spirits. Any and all that happen to be hanging around,” he told her.
“So, it wasn’t just a dream? Me and Michael? We were there, in our house, these last weeks?”
Her expression was wrecked. Grief pulled at her mouth, and sadness clouded her eyes. He drew her tightly against him, remembering the paralyzing fear of initially seeing her wandering her home, and believing she’d died.
