When Through Deep Waters Page 11

  “Where are we going?” Alicen whispered back.

  The girl glanced over her shoulder, and even in the dark, Alicen could see the twinkle of adventure in the corner of her eye. “You have to follow to find out.”

  Alicen felt herself smiling and pulled back the sheets from her bed, placed her feet on the floor, and grabbed her sweater before tiptoeing after the child. Again, a tiny warning signaled somewhere in the caverns of her brain, but Alicen ignored it. She followed the girl carefully down the stairs, through the hallway, and out onto the back porch. Once outside, Alicen slipped into her sweater. Wearing nothing else but a long sleep shirt that hung to her knees, she stepped off the deck and into the grass.

  She looked down, expecting the grass to be cold beneath her feet, but it wasn’t. In fact, the chilly fall Montana mountain air should have been nearly unbearable in the middle of the night, but Alicen hardly felt chilled. Strange, she thought.

  “Come on, Alicen,” the girl called, already halfway across the lawn.

  Alicen started after the girl, her quick walk turning into a run as the child raced to the edge of the lawn and then into the forest beyond. The stars and large full moon provided enough light to see by as they moved. Alicen never stopped to question where they might be going; she was just following. Again it felt odd but familiar as well.

  “Come on; come on,” the little girl cried. “We’re almost there.”

  “How can you be so much faster than me?” Alicen asked.

  The child laughed. “Magic.”

  She laughed again, and Alicen found this funny as well. She shook her head and pushed herself to try and keep up. They dodged the trees, maneuvered over the rocky ground, and moved like forest beasts. As if they had done this a hundred times before. It felt good to have the wind lapping at her face, to feel the freedom of running among the trees, the whispers of the night cooing inside her ears. Alicen smiled, warmth ballooning through her body.

  After a couple more strides, she saw the small girl slow, and she followed suit. Neither of them were huffing the way they should be after running at such a pace, but Alicen barely gave it a thought. The oddity of the moment was beginning to feel normal.

  “We’re here,” the girl said.

  Alicen looked around. All she could see was more forest, but she heard bubbling water close by and noticed the girl ducking off to the right. Alicen followed and stepped beyond a cluster of thick trees to find a stream. Maybe only ten feet across, it extended in both directions as far as she could see in the dark. The moon reflected off its surface. Stars dotted its glassy top. The water ran smoothly downstream and lapped the edges in peaceful rhythm. It almost sounded like a song.

  “It’s beautiful,” Alicen said.

  “It’s more than that,” the little girl said. “It can help you see the truth.”

  “How? It’s just a river,” Alicen said.

  “Maybe to some, like maybe to some you’re just a woman.”

  “I am just a woman.”

  The child smiled as a little puff of laughter escaped her lips. “Are you sure about that?”

  Alicen shook her head. “You’re a funny little girl.”

  The child smiled wide enough to engulf the bottom half of her face. “Hear that?” she called out. “She thinks I’m funny.”

  “You’re not funny,” came another small voice.

  Alicen gasped and turned to see a boy walking out from the trees. A little taller than the girl with pigtails, but they looked to be about the same age. His hair, even in the dim light, was a fiery red.

  “We think you’re funny,” said another young, new voice, as two more girls appeared from the dark. These two were smaller than the others, clasped hand in hand, one talking, the other quiet as a mouse. Twins. Both with short black hair and tiny round faces.

  Alicen gasped again, took a deep breath, and exhaled sharply. She stepped back, her eyes trying to understand what she was seeing. There were four of them. Four children standing in front of her, along the side of a river in the forest, in the middle of the night. All that had felt normal moments before was now being called into question. What was she doing out here? Had she really crawled out of bed willingly? Why wasn’t she afraid?

  Get a grip, Alicen. Act like an adult, Alicen. What would your mother say, Alicen?

  “Do you really think she’s funny?” the redheaded boy asked, turning his attention to Alicen. “And be honest.”

  All of them moved their gazes to Alicen, anticipation mingling among them, all four waiting for a response, but her mouth was stuck open in shock. She took a step back.

  The children exchanged glances, and the pigtailed girl shrugged. “I told you,” she said.

  “Alicen,” the talkative twin said, “do you see us?” Her voice seemed to echo through the trees and on the wind. As if it were only in Alicen’s head but also coming from the tiny human standing before her.

  “Of course she sees us,” the boy said. “She’s staring right at us.” He looked at Alicen with concern. “She just doesn’t know who we are.”

  “She’s been brainwashed,” Pigtails said.

  “Her brain was washed?” the twin exclaimed. She reached out and touched Alicen’s forehead, turning her gaze to her twin sister. “How do they even do that?”

  Get a grip, Alicen.

  “Her brain wasn’t actually washed, Roxie,” Redhead said. “That isn’t possible.”

  Act like an adult, Alicen.

  “You don’t know everything about everything,” the twin he called Roxie said.

  What would your mother say, Alicen?

  “I know this for sure,” Redhead replied.

  “Alicen?” Pigtails said, stepping forward with hesitation and causing the other children to become silent.

  “Who are you?” Alicen said, her voice barely audible and nearly lost to the wind. A chill swept down her spine, and she shivered.

  “It’s okay,” Pigtails said. “Don’t be afraid.”

  The sky around her buzzed with muffled laughter and whispers, but the children before her remained still. Were there others?

  “You can call me Evie,” Pigtails said.

  Evie. Alicen shook her head. “I’m dreaming; I must be dreaming.”

  “The dream isn’t in here,” Redhead said. “It’s out there, and it pretends to be real.”

  Alicen didn’t understand and opened her mouth to say so, but she couldn’t get the words out. Evie took a step closer. Her movement caused Alicen to take another step backward. She reached out and felt for a tree behind her.

  “You aren’t real. This isn’t real,” Alicen said.

  “Don’t we seem real?” the redheaded boy asked.

  Alicen swallowed and felt her lips quiver.

  “Beck,” Evie warned the boy over her shoulder. “That isn’t helpful.”

  Beck. The boy blew a fallen piece of red hair out of his eyes. Alicen turned back to Evie, her mind teetering on the edge of sanity.

  “You.” Alicen stared, pointing a finger at Evie. “You healed a bird. That’s impossible.”

  The speaking twin giggled behind Evie and smiled.

  Roxie.

  “Nothing is impossible,” she said. The other little girl, who’d been completely silent, stepped away from the trees, hand in hand with her sister. She leaned over and whispered something into her twin’s ear.

  Roxie listened, then nodded. She turned her eyes to Evie, an excited bouncing starting in her heels. “Tate wants to show her,” Roxie said.

  Tate.

  “I know,” Evie said. She turned to Alicen. “But she wouldn’t be able to see it yet. She isn’t ready.”

  Tate and Roxie. Alicen felt nauseous from the rate at which her mind was spinning. This was a dream, she kept telling herself. Just a dream. “See what?” Alicen asked.

  “Who you are,” Roxie whispered.

  More popping laughter and static whispers filled the air around them, and the children exchanged glances. “We have
to go now,” Evie said.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” Alicen cried.

  “You’re still asking the wrong questions,” Beck said.

  A dull pain pulsed at the nape of Alicen’s neck as Evie took one last step forward and grabbed Alicen’s eyes with her own golden stare. “You made a promise once. And then you forgot how to keep it.” Her expression took on a serious shade as she continued. “When you are ready to remember that promise, everything will change.”

  “What?” Alicen asked. “I don’t understand.”

  The wind howled through the trees, and the pain that had started pricking at Alicen’s skull grew with great force. The chilling laughter that the air carried rose in volume. It blocked out all the other sounds of the forest and pressed deeply into Alicen’s ear canals. The throbbing in her brain amplified enough to blur her vision. She grabbed the tree behind her to stabilize her trembling knees.

  Evie said something to her, but Alicen’s ears were filled with cotton, the pain now too intense to focus. She dropped to her knees, crying at the sky as the world beyond shifted and vanished.

  Alicen flew upward, gasping for breath, her heart pounding relentlessly inside her chest. Her eyes tore open, and it took her a moment to register that she was in her room. In bed. The first signs of morning light were sneaking through the window shades.

  Her heavy breathing filled the quiet space, and her stomach turned. She thought she might be sick and yanked the covers from her legs. She was drenched in sweat, the chilly morning air sweeping over her and causing goose pimples to spread out across her bare legs. She felt like she couldn’t breathe through the stuffy air around her head. Shakily, she stood, wobbled toward the window, pulled up the shade, and threw open the bottom glass panel.

  More cold air punched her in the face, and she took a deep breath. She stood there for a long moment, inhaling the freezing early air and letting her mind come back down from its spinning heights. She was in her room. She was safe. No children, no forest. It had been a dream. Just a dream.

  She laid her forehead on the windowsill and let the breeze cool the hot tears slipping past the corners of her eyes. Her shoulders started to shake as the emotions of everything that had happened suddenly overwhelmed her. She grasped the edge of the sill with her hands and slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. Soft cries escaped her lips, and she bit down to keep them from ringing out loudly across the still-sleeping house.

  It was just a dream. Get ahold of yourself, her mind ordered. She wanted this to end; she wanted everything to end.

  Alicen wasn’t sure how long she sat there, window open, cold air rushing in, tears dripping off her chin, but eventually her emotions calmed and her tears dried.

  She swallowed, laid her skull against the wall, and extended her legs out along the floor. With her eyes closed, she forced her breathing back into a normal rhythm. In and out. Calm. Collected. The rest of the house would be up soon. Her mother would be up soon.

  Alicen opened her eyes, the sun now fully lighting the room. She scanned the room as she worked up the mental strength it would require to push herself off the floor. Her eyes caught sight of her bare feet, and her heart stopped. In the chaos of raw emotional turmoil, she hadn’t even noticed.

  She forced a shaky breath out through her lips and tried to control the panic crawling up her legs. Her shoulders shook, her mind melting back into a place of uncertainty. She reached out her shivering fingers toward her toes, needing to touch what she saw to confirm her fear.

  Dirt. Dried in the curves of her toenails and between her toes. Dirt that had once been mud. As if she’d been outside. As if she’d been running through the forest.

  11

  Eventually Alicen dragged herself off the bedroom floor and into the shower. She let the hot, steaming water numb her skin as disbelief numbed her thoughts. Sleepwalking was new for her. She scraped her mind for another explanation, but logic kept bringing her back to what was obvious. “Alicen McCaffrey is talking to, seeing, and sleepwalking with imaginary children.”

  Even as she said the sentence out loud, shutting the shower off, she snorted in astonishment. Amid the insanity of it all, one thing was starting to become clear. She couldn’t control this anymore. It was more than just feeling afraid of losing her mind; Alicen was actually afraid of putting herself in danger. She needed help.

  She finished getting ready for the day in a fog. She heard movement through the house and knew the others were up. She didn’t know how long Betty was planning to stay around, but she had let them know she hadn’t yet booked a return flight, which meant Alicen, Louise, and Betty were going to be spending some quality time together. It meant Alicen was going to have to try and keep a grip on her sanity. She couldn’t lose her mind in front of her mother. That was the last thing she needed.

  Moving downstairs and into the kitchen, she was greeted by the other two women. They exchanged pleasantries, poured coffee into large travel mugs, and agreed to head to the bookstore to work. The thought of Betty getting her hands dirty caused Alicen and Louise to share a stolen bemused grin, but it was better to have her close so they could keep an eye on her than to leave her to meddle.

  The three were out of the house quickly and parked outside the bookstore minutes later. The morning passed easily enough. Louise’s soft jazz playlist drifted through the store, but other than a couple of necessary questions between them, they kept to themselves. Which suited Alicen fine. The less they mingled, the less likely she was to expose herself.

  Louise dropped a heavy cardboard box on the wooden floorboards with a thud. She had just taped it closed and marked it with a black Sharpie. Dust particles danced through the sun’s rays streaming in through the open shades, and Louise waved them out of her face. She coughed dramatically and then flashed Alicen a silly grin. Alicen chuckled and shook her head.

  “What’s so funny down there?” Betty asked, peering over the upstairs railing.

  “Nothing’s funny,” Alicen said.

  “Speak for yourself,” Louise said. “I’m hilarious.”

  Alicen rolled her eyes.

  “And starving,” Louise said.

  “What? You, hungry?” Alicen teased.

  A rolled chunk of packing tape came flying across the store, and Alicen barely evaded it. “Careful,” Alicen said, pointing at her friend. “My revenge is swift and deadly.” Louise let out one loud cackle, and Alicen shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. “You have been warned.”

  “Actually, if a break and some food are up for discussion, my vote is yes,” Betty called as she taped up the box she was working on.

  “This is a first,” Louise said, “but I’m with Betty on this.”

  Betty gave a mocking huff and shook her head. Alicen just laughed. And for a moment, the world felt normal.

  Louise stood and placed her hands on her hips. “I believe it’s my turn to grab lunch today,” she said. “Or we could all break and go?”

  “I’m actually not really hungry yet,” Alicen said. “Maybe just grab me something for later?”

  Louise nodded and looked up toward Betty. “Betty?”

  “Can you grab me something too? If Alicen is staying, I’ll keep her company.”

  Louise glanced at Alicen to make sure that was okay, and Alicen nodded. She could handle her mother alone for a little while.

  “Suit yourselves,” Louise said, grabbing her wallet. “Any requests on lunch?”

  “Something low-carb, dear,” Betty said. The woman turned back to her task, and Louise rolled her eyes.

  “Burgers and fries it is,” she teased, and Alicen couldn’t help but laugh.

  “I won’t eat that,” Betty said, clearly missing the sarcasm in Louise’s tone.

  “Get Betty a salad, Lou,” Alicen warned, but with a smile in her voice.

  Louise flashed Alicen a final smile and was out the door before Betty could say anything else.

  “That girl is very odd, Alicen. I ne
ver did understand you two,” Betty said.

  Alicen ignored her and went back to work.

  Silence engulfed the store again, and Alicen would have been happy to keep it that way. Wishful thinking. Betty clunked down the twisting steel staircase, a taped-up box in hand, and set it against the wall with the others.

  She let out a dramatic sigh. “I am getting too old for this kind of labor.”

  Alicen glanced up and with one look at Betty’s expression, knew the woman had no plans of returning back upstairs to work. Betty casually walked over to where Alicen was working through the history book collection, categorizing by year and country, and leaned against the waist-high bookshelf.

  There was a pause before Betty tried to fill the silence. “So, Louise mentioned that you’re taking part in a special program of sorts? At that retreat center.”

  “Uh-huh,” Alicen said.

  “What’s it like?”

  Alicen gave her mother a bothered look, and Betty sighed. “What? You can’t take a little break to have a conversation about your life with your mother?”

  Alicen took a patient inhale and capped the marker in her hand. “What do you want to know?”

  “How long is it for?”

  “As long as I need.”

  “So you’re still depressed, then?”

  Alicen shrugged. “It’s only been four months.”

  “I know, honey; don’t get defensive. I was just asking.” Betty took a beat and then reached out and tucked a loose hair behind Alicen’s ear. “We miss you in Santa Monica. Couldn’t you go back to seeing your doctor there?”

  “We?” Alicen said. Betty let her hand fall away from Alicen’s face, and Alicen felt a pocket of anger open up in her chest. “Who’s we, Betty?”

  Betty opened her mouth to rebuke Alicen for calling her by her first name, but before she could speak, her guilty eyes confirmed Alicen’s collecting fear.

  “You have got to be kidding me!”

  “He made a mistake, and he knows he did,” Betty said.

  “Allen didn’t make a mistake, Mom. Marrying him in the first place was the mistake. Getting divorced was the only good thing to come out of this mess.”