When Through Deep Waters Page 9

  Her chest ballooned with sympathy as she got closer. A tiny bird, barely hopping away from her. It tried to move its wing, but only one opened; the other must have been broken. It chirped even louder as Alicen approached, and she slowed, not to scare it to death. Not that it had much chance at this point. The sight broke her heart. Death of something so innocent seemed cruel.

  She was surprised by how affected she felt and inhaled deeply as tears dotted her vision. Get a grip; birds die, she thought. That’s just what happens. She closed her eyes, the bird’s sad cries ringing faintly against the sky, and tried to wash away what had happened to her in the last hour. Enough thinking about Grandma Joe, enough thinking about the past. Enough.

  Alicen opened her eyes and her breath caught in her throat. A little girl stood at the end of the alleyway. A white dress hung just above her knees, a thin bow around her waist, her face bright, her eyes golden, with low pigtails tied at either side of her neck. She couldn’t be older than ten. She was staring at Alicen, and a deep knowing sank into Alicen’s mind. She had stared at Alicen before.

  Several thoughts collided at once. She should run; she should call for help; she should scream at this child; she should drag her back to Louise to prove she wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t crazy—here the girl stood, the shadow that had lingered in the house during the storm.

  Another thought dropped into the chaos: What if she was still just a lingering shadow? If someone else stepped into the alley, would they see the little girl too?

  No, Alicen thought, she had to be real. She was only a yard in front of her, her dress being blown by the wind, her hair being tugged by the breeze, her eyes blinking. She was real, and she had been in Alicen’s home.

  A small sliver of anger pushed through the madness, enough that Alicen raised her finger and found her voice. “You . . . you broke into my house.”

  “It isn’t your house,” the little girl said.

  Her voice carried to Alicen, and she felt her heart ram inside her chest. She spoke like she was real.

  “But I live there, and I saw you,” Alicen said.

  The girl tilted her chin slightly and pressed forward onto her toes and then back to her heels. “Do you like living there?”

  “What?”

  “It’s very pretty. I mean, I think so. Don’t you think so?”

  Alicen huffed in disbelief, and her anger grew. “Do your parents know you were out breaking into my house?”

  “It’s not your house.”

  Fury boiled up through Alicen’s face and she took a step forward. The stilled bird scurried to life, chirping hastily and trying to flee.

  “Stop,” the little girl said and moved down the alley toward the pitiful creature. Alicen took a couple steps back as the child approached and felt embarrassed at how much her pulse increased. It was just a child, for goodness’ sake. Then again, this particular child was clearly a delinquent. The girl slowed and approached the bird on tiptoes until she was standing over the tiny feathered beast.

  “What is your name? Where are your parents?” Alicen barked. Again the bird panicked.

  “Shh,” the little girl said. “You’re scaring him.”

  Alicen watched as the child dropped to a squat and reached out her hands toward the bird.

  “No,” Alicen said, stepping forward. “Don’t touch it; it might hurt you.”

  The girl giggled, a sound too familiar for Alicen to ignore, and her heart began racing again.

  “He won’t hurt me,” the child said. She scooped it into both hands and closed her palms around the small animal. “I’m going to fix him.” She stood and kept her eyes on her clasped hands.

  A chill ran the length of Alicen’s skin as unease filled her. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re asking me all the wrong questions,” the girl said, lifting her eyes to meet Alicen’s. Their golden color captured Alicen’s ability to speak and rooted her heels to the cement.

  “Who are you?” Alicen whispered.

  The girl shook her head. “Wrong again. Not who am I. The question is: who are you?”

  “What kind of question is that?” Alicen asked.

  “The only one there is.”

  Dozens of faint whispers filled the air around their heads, coming seemingly from nowhere and everywhere at once. The girl glanced over her shoulder, listened, and then looked back to Alicen.

  “I have to go,” she said.

  Alicen glanced to the place where the child had turned her eyes and saw nothing. So many questions whirled themselves at Alicen’s skull, she wondered if she would have permanent bruises from the onslaught. The little girl turned and started away from Alicen, back down the alley. The choir of whispers faded as she walked away, the little bird still cupped in her hands.

  The war raging inside Alicen’s brain roared. You should go after her, stop her, demand to see her parents, drag her to the corner market. This is a small town; someone will know her; you should admit this isn’t real, that she’s in your head. You’re seeing things; you’re losing your mind; this is your own private form of madness.

  “Alicen,” the little girl called and silenced all the rambling thoughts in Alicen’s head. She gazed at the girl, who was now at the opposite end of the alley.

  “Remember: when the eye is clear, the whole body is full of light,” the girl said as she dropped to her knees, unclenched her hands, and placed the little bird on the ground. Then she stood and stepped around the corner and out of sight.

  Alicen stood, watching after her, letting her words sink in. The bird hopped, drawing Alicen’s attention. It shook all its feathers and then sprang up and took to the sky. Its wing anything but broken.

  Dr. Wells’s office was larger than Alicen had expected. It had warm burnt-orange walls, dark hardwood floors, three large bay windows that overlooked the long rolling lawn of the Clover Mountain Retreat Center, and wood furniture with light-tan cushions, comfortable and clean.

  She’d been escorted in a couple of minutes ago, told by the sweet nurse that Dr. Wells was on his way from the other side of campus and would be here shortly. Alicen didn’t mind waiting; she had been early anyway.

  When she’d woken up this morning and realized it was Friday, a knot of dread had started forming in her gut. She’d battled it the only way she knew how, by letting herself succumb to numbness. She had been doing that often over the last thirty-six hours. Ever since a little girl had healed a dying bird in an alley.

  Impossible. Just like that same little girl appearing in her house was impossible, and hearing little voices was impossible. Alicen had experienced more impossibilities in the last few weeks than she had in her entire lifetime. So either she was turning into a wizard, which seemed unlikely, or she really was losing her mind.

  Alicen chuckled at her own joke just as Dr. Wells pushed open his office door.

  “Something funny?” he said, walking in and shutting the door behind him.

  Alicen jumped slightly at his sudden presence and moved her eyes to meet his. He was sporting a casual look similar to what he’d worn the first time they’d met: nice denim, light-blue button-down, no tie, simple black loafers. His dark gray hair was managed, his face clean-shaven. He looked approachable and easygoing. She wished his appearance would help her feel at ease, but the knot remained.

  “Oh, it’s nothing,” Alicen said.

  “Bummer,” Dr. Wells replied, heading for his desk across the office to place the stack of folders he was carrying inside the top drawer. “I could use a good joke this morning.”

  “That makes two of us,” Alicen said.

  Dr. Wells smiled, walked over to where Alicen was sitting, and sat in the plush chair opposite her. She avoided eye contact and acted like she was searching the room, which she had already done. She cleared her throat and pointed to a framed photo perched on one of the bookshelves’ panels. It was of a much younger Dr. Wells and two aged companions.

  “Are those your parents?” she asked.

/>   His eyes followed her finger and he nodded. “Yep.”

  “Are they from here?”

  “No, Boston,” he said. “My entire family has been there for generations.”

  “I’ve never been.”

  “It’s cold.”

  Alicen gave an awkward laugh, followed by a strained cough. Her heart had started beating against her rib cage, her pulse ramming under her skin. She would rather be any place on earth than here.

  “What brought you to Red Lodge?” Alicen asked. It was a stupid question, of course. She already knew the answer.

  “I worked in the Boston area after school for many years before I heard about Clover Mountain Retreat Center through an old graduate-school classmate and decided to give it a try. I was looking for a change of scenery, and I’ve always loved the mountains.”

  “Do you miss Boston?” Alicen couldn’t stop the questions from falling out of her mouth, and Dr. Wells continued to humor her.

  “I miss the pizza and the Red Sox; otherwise, small-town life seems to suit me. What about you? Do you miss Santa Monica?”

  And so the questions turned to her. Silence filled the room as Dr. Wells waited for Alicen to answer. What was she supposed to say? Yes, because she had given birth to Jane there. No, because she had killed her there too.

  “Let’s try something different,” Dr. Wells said. “How’s the transition back to Montana been going? Are you enjoying reconnecting with Louise?”

  Alicen swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, it’s been fine.”

  “You’re helping her with the bookstore in town, right? How’s that going?”

  “Fine.”

  “The summer home as well?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good; I’m sure having something to do is helpful.”

  Alicen nodded.

  “And how are you sleeping?” Dr. Wells asked.

  Alicen’s mind betrayed her as it replayed the last several restless nights on repeat. Every time she was about to fade to sleep, her imagination, combined with her memories, haunted her into a wakeful state. Along with insanity, exhaustion was also putting down permanent roots.

  “Where did your mind go just then?” Dr. Wells asked.

  Alicen considered telling him the truth but quickly thought better of it. “I liked it better when we were talking about you,” Alicen said.

  Dr. Wells nodded. “Okay; is there something else you want to know?”

  Alicen pondered his question before speaking. “Why this? Why pick this career?”

  Dr. Wells paused and thoughtfully considered her question. “Because I believe in change,” he said. “I believe in second chances, that peace is obtainable after tragedy.”

  Alicen could feel herself losing control of her emotions. “Have you ever faced tragedy, Dr. Wells?” Sorrow made her throat feel like it was closing, and she pushed a sharp breath past it.

  “Not like you,” he answered honestly. He let his words sit in the air for a moment before softening his tone and continuing. “The loss of a child is not a pain that I think can be erased. However, I do believe it can be survived. Maybe I can help you learn to survive.”

  He held Alicen’s gaze, and she was captured by the honest hope his eyes reflected. More hope than she’d seen in a long time, and she could feel her soul longing for some of it. She suddenly wanted to pour her heart out to him, beg him to help her, believe that help was possible. But something held her back.

  “You can’t,” Alicen said before she could stop herself. She knew his hope was wasted on her.

  “And why is that?” Dr. Wells asked.

  “I have nothing to survive for.” The truth stung to say out loud, but again Alicen couldn’t keep the words locked inside.

  “Don’t you believe you’re worth surviving for?” Dr. Wells asked.

  “You wouldn’t be asking me that if you knew what I had done.”

  Dr. Wells pondered this for a moment. “Why don’t you tell me, and then I’ll decide if that’s true or not.”

  The open floodgate of honesty slammed shut, the flow rushing to a halt. Alicen wanted to be done talking. She may be forced to endure these sessions, but she wasn’t required to share. And she’d said too much already. Her prickly defense rose up to intercept whatever she may have said next, and she coughed instead. She crossed her arms over her chest and dropped her eyes from the kind doctor’s face.

  Uncomfortable silence filled the office for several long moments, and Alicen refused to be the first to break it. She could feel Dr. Wells’s eyes but held fast to her conviction and continued to let her hard nature drive.

  “Okay,” Dr. Wells said. “We’ll just leave it there for now.”

  He reached for the folded sheet of paper that rested on the small side table to the left of his chair. Alicen hadn’t even noticed it until now. He unfolded it and glanced quickly across whatever he saw, then back to Alicen.

  “What if we talk about your family?” Dr. Wells asked.

  Another wave of ice filled Alicen’s throat. Why would he want to talk about that? “What does that have to do with anything?” Alicen snapped. Her words rushed out sharper than she would have liked. Sharper than was probably appropriate for an adult.

  “It’s a good place to start when getting to know someone,” he replied. “It’ll give me a better picture of where you’ve been.”

  “In hopes of helping me discover how I got here?” Alicen mocked. Again her internal maturity scolded her. Responding like a rebellious teenager was not helping.

  To her surprise, Dr. Wells let out a soft chuckle and nodded. “You’ve done this before. It’s good to know you’ll keep me on my toes, then.”

  Alicen dared to make eye contact with the doctor. He was watching her casually, waiting for her to make the next move, to open up, to get comfortable. He was going to be waiting for a while. Now that she’d let the cold demeanor seep in, she refused to budge.

  Dr. Wells gave a knowing nod, as if Alicen’s thought had been projected for him to see. “I think that’s enough for today.” He stood, and Alicen followed suit. Dr. Wells walked across the room to where the door was and opened it. A bit surprised he wasn’t going to insist she share her every thought, Alicen crossed the office to exit. She felt obligated to pause before leaving, and she and Dr. Wells shared another moment of eye contact.

  “Like I mentioned, we can take this as slow as you like,” he said and then smiled. “I’ll see you in a couple days.”

  Alicen wanted to argue, but she had nothing to say. She just nodded and left, listening to the click of the doctor’s door shutting behind her.

  9

  Alicen didn’t feel completely at ease until she was safely parked in front of the summer home. She had gotten away pretty much unscathed from her meeting with Dr. Wells. She’d managed to escape without crumbling into a pile of crazy. She’d kept her emotions in check. Yet she still felt irritatingly vulnerable. Up until she pulled into the driveway, she felt as though a piece of her was showing. A piece she had worked very hard to keep hidden.

  The setting sun was darkening the sky, and Alicen thought the fatigue swimming under her skin was strong enough that sleep might actually find her tonight.

  She got out, shut the car door, clicked the button on the key to lock it, and headed up the steps to the front porch. She was hungry and relieved that all she had to do until the sun rose tomorrow was worry about trying to sleep. Louise had given her a key, and she used it to let herself in.

  “Hello,” Alicen called, shutting the door behind her. She twisted the lock, listening to it secure with a click, and tossed Louise’s car keys into the small glass bowl on the front entry table. “Lou?”

  “In the kitchen,” Louise replied.

  “Please tell me you’re not cooking; I’m way too hungry for your cooking,” Alicen teased, walking through the sitting room and toward the brightly lit kitchen. Louise was standing inside the room, a glass of water in hand, her face bearing a strange expression.


  “I was just kidding,” Alicen said. “With enough salt I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She smiled at her own wit, but Louise didn’t respond in kind. Alicen stepped into the kitchen and opened her mouth to apologize, but someone else spoke first.

  “Alicen,” a voice called from the corner.

  Alicen froze. She knew that voice. It always managed to make her feel like she was being scolded even before she had done anything. She turned and saw her mother standing up from the chair where she’d been sitting at the kitchen table. She stole a glance back at Louise, where a mixture of anger and sympathy were working their way across her friend’s eyes.

  “Betty,” Alicen said.

  “Mom, Alicen; at a time like this a daughter should call her mother Mom,” Betty said.

  It hadn’t even taken ten seconds for the critiquing to begin. Alicen wanted to run away and smack the woman at the same time, a reaction she’d become accustomed to over the years. “What are you doing here?” Alicen asked.

  “I wanted to check on you. I was worried, dear.”

  “Worried?”

  “Don’t say that like you’re surprised. I’m still your mother.”

  “Don’t worry, Mom; I couldn’t forget that.” Alicen could feel her temper getting the best of her.

  Her mother raised her eyebrows as if to say, Watch your tone, and Alicen regretted her words immediately. As good as it might feel to rake the woman over hot coals, she knew from experience that making Betty angry was never a good idea. It was incredible the way her mother could give her the smallest look and suddenly Alicen was ten years old again, striving for her mom’s approval—approval that was impossible to obtain.

  “You shouldn’t worry,” Alicen said.

  “Of course I should worry. After everything you’ve been through the last four months.”

  “You could have just called; there was no reason to fly all the way here.”

  “I needed to see you for myself. Besides,” Betty said, casting a glance around the kitchen, “I haven’t been back here in decades. This place hasn’t changed at all.”