Firebird (The Flint Hills Novels) (24 page)

"Yes, Grandpa."

"Now!"

"Yes, Grandpa."

He waited to make sure she was obeying, then he turned and went back to his room.

She picked up all the tins and placed them on the countertop. She couldn't find a broom so she pulled a dish towel from its hook and cleaned up the jam the best she could. She didn't know how to fix the shelf so she turned off the kitchen light and very quietly sneaked back to her mother's bedroom and locked the door.

Their suitcases lay open on the bed, neatly packed as her mother had left them, and Eliana pulled out her jeans and cowboy boots and slipped them on. She put on her white cowboy hat and her coat and stuffed an extra T-shirt and underwear in the pockets, then she picked up her mother's violin and turned out the light. When she opened the door, she heard the television and knew her grandfather was in the living room, so she closed the door and sat back down on her bed with her heart pounding. Finally, she got up and tried the window. It opened easily. She gathered her belongings, crawled outside, and within minutes she was racing down the dark street without the slightest idea of where she was heading, but she knew she'd never go home again.

* * *

Traveler lay on the porch of Ethan's new home waiting for his master to return. From time to time his ears pricked up and turned like radar as they detected a truck in the road, but it was late now and no vehicles had been by for a long time.

His instincts told him something was amiss, and he was alert, searching for clues in the cool night air. He sensed a motion fainter than wind, human but with no human odor, and he let out a low growl. But when he saw the woman appear in the yard, he recognized her. He sat up and watched her, and when she moved he rose and followed her down the long drive to the main road.

* * *

Eliana walked until her legs would carry her no longer. At first she'd been full of courage; she was a mother mountain lion herself, ready to defend and protect her baby, and she marched along practicing her growls. But as she trod on, with no dwelling or light in sight, she began to think she might die of fright. She pleaded with her guardian angel and recited every prayer she'd ever learned at least a hundred times; but when she fell silent and listened, her heart swelled with terror. She was growing very tired, and the violin and Cosette weighed like rocks in her hands. Only one truck had passed her; the driver had pulled to a stop down the road and a man had gotten out, and so she hid in the ditch until he drove away. Clouds full of ash blocked the stars and the moon, and the darkness was filled with strange and frightening sounds. Several times she broke into a run to get away from the wild things, but now she was too tired.

Finally, she sat down at the side of the road and clutched the stuffed lion to her chest and wailed. The wind howled with her, and when it had calmed, there was a swishing of grasses at her back. In the darkness she could make out the outline of a creature moving toward her across the field. She let out a cry of fear and scrambled to her feet, but she tripped over the violin case, and when she looked up she saw it was Traveler. He came loping toward her, panting and bright-eyed with smiles. She threw her arms around his neck and clutched him tightly. Traveler, who was more accustomed to cattle than children, didn't particularly care for this kind of fondling, but he tolerated it. His instincts told him this human needed protection, needed to be herded back home. When he had licked the tears from her face, he set off and lead the little girl safely into the night.

Chapter 24

Normally Jer didn't notice pictures hanging on walls, but this one caught his attention. It was a scene all too familiar to him: a rustic farmhouse bedroom, an open window, a dog curled up asleep on the bed with his head on the pillow. The room was simple and unadorned: only a small oval braided rug on the floor and a freshly washed chenille bedspread like the kind he'd had on his bed as a kid. He wanted to crawl in there with the dog and hide.

Nice sort of picture for a hospital, he thought as he opened the door to the cafeteria and looked around for Ethan.

He found him at a table at the back. He had a cup of coffee in front of him and a piece of apple pie that he hadn't touched.

Jer pulled out the chair opposite him.

"How's she doin'?" he asked.

"Hangin' in there."

"How about Tom and Betty Sue?"

"They've checked into a hotel across the street. The doctor gave Betty Sue something to calm her down and it knocked her out. I told Tom I'd call him if there was any change."

An awkward silence stretched between them. Jer reached for a discarded sports section of the morning paper that lay folded at the edge of the table and glanced at the front-page story.

"Cardinals look good this year," he said.

"I don't follow them much."

"Yeah, I know." Jer laid down the paper.

"Get yourself a cup of coffee," said Ethan. "They're still open."

"Naw, thanks. I can't stay long. We're still moppin' up. Gonna be a long night."

"How's it going?"

"We got it licked. Finally."

"Anybody else get hurt?"

Jer took a deep breath. "Yeah," he replied. "One of the volunteers from Strong City. Smoke inhalation."

"Bad?"

Jer shook his head. "No. They released him."

"How about property?"

"Your house is safe." Jer tried to swallow and it felt as if his throat were paralyzed. "But the old Reilly house..."

"Did it go?"

Jer said that it had. He didn't know how he could say anything more.

"Just as well," muttered Ethan. There was a long silence. Ethan stood up. "I'm gonna get a hot refill. Sure you don't want something?"

"No, thanks." Jer caught him by the sleeve. "Ethan?"

"Yeah?"

He couldn't look his friend in the eye.

"What?"

"Annette was in the house."

Ethan didn't feel the cup slip from his hand, but it did, and it hit the floor and broke, spraying his boots with cold coffee.

"What do you mean, she was in the house?"

"She was in the house when it burned."

"You didn't say that, pal. Tell me you didn't say that."

"She must have gone back for something. Charlie Ferguson said she went off early that morning when everyone was still asleep. Said she left a note saying she'd be back before they woke up."

"Where did they take her?"

Jer looked at him. "They took her to the morgue."

Jer's voice broke and a strange sound like a high whine burst from his chest. It was the first time Ethan had ever heard him cry.

* * *

Ethan walked quickly through the hospital corridors looking for a way out.
Damn sonovabitch,
he screamed to himself. He kept his head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone. If they saw into his eyes it would shatter him. If he could just hold it in until he got outside.
Where's the damned entrance?
He found himself in radiology and had to turn around. He came to an elevator and pushed the button but he was too impatient to wait. He moved on, around the corner, and stopped a nurse to ask her the way out; but he felt it beginning to rise in his chest and he hurried away without waiting for her reply. She called after him, that he was going the wrong way, but he ignored her. He couldn't keep back the tears anymore. Furtively, he wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand and hoped she hadn't seen.

He took an emergency exit and found himself in an empty stairwell. He sat down on the top step with his head in his hands and wept.

Afterward he couldn't say how she had gotten there or how she was dressed, but he knew what he'd seen, and nobody could make him think otherwise. He didn't hear a sound. But he knew she was there even before he looked up and saw her at the bottom of the stairs.

It wasn't that she appeared radiant or anything like you'd imagine spirits should look, it was the way she felt to him. Beautiful and very sad. As if the body and mind he'd loved and cherished had only been a barrier to deep understanding. And in this moment he felt something more powerful than anything they'd ever expressed through the most passionate lovemaking, or the most tender words of love.

She was telling him that for all the beauty of heaven, she couldn't leave this earth.

For what seemed like a long while, she stayed with him. He could feel her anguish and he knew with his heart what she wanted.

"I'll take care of her. I'll take care of Eliana. Don't you worry. I know I haven't been good with promises to you, but I swear, with my last breath, I swear I'll take care of her. I promise."

He couldn't remember if he spoke the words aloud or not, but he thought she must have understood him, because after that her sadness lifted.

He stayed there in the dim stairwell looking at the wall until he couldn't feel her presence anymore.

* * *

He took the elevator down and finally found the main lobby and went outside. For the first time in years he wanted a cigarette. He wandered around the parking lot for a while, looking up at the fat white moon and hoping he'd find her again in the moonlight. He didn't think anyone would ever believe him. But he knew what he'd seen.

"I just made a promise to a ghost," he muttered, trying to laugh at himself.

His cell phone rang, and he half expected it to be Annette.

"Ethan, are you still in the hospital?"

It was Jer.

"I'm out in the parking lot. What's up?"

"It's Katie Anne. Her heart's stopped."

"God, no."

"Get up here."

"I'm on my way."

* * *

Now she was guided by a power she couldn't name, except that it left her with an overwhelming feeling of comfort; the only word she might have found for it would have been love, but love was inadequate, because no human love came close to what she felt while this presence was with her. They passed through a landscape of feeling, a submersion in dense darkness and then a fluid rush of vibrant colors. She knew that she was being summoned away from the living.

Suddenly, with a jolt, she finds herself in a hospital room. There is a patient surrounded by a solemn-faced team of doctors and nurses in that limbo state of helplessness when the interventions have failed, when the resuscitation efforts, the atropine injected twice, three times aren't enough to bring the woman back to life. Abruptly, their work ceases, and the heavy seconds slog by until the doctor pronounces the final verdict: "Time of death three-oh-three a.m."

Reverently, they remove the needles and tubes from her hand and nose; the monitors are disconnected. Her mother and father watch in disbelief. And Ethan is there.

As she gazed upon the lifeless shell, the once desirable body that would never again inspire desire, the once pretty face that would draw only pitiful stares, the anguish of choice overwhelmed her again. She had a glimpse of her life far into the future, what her struggles and sorrows and losses would be. And the possibilities, the hope. She also knew in that timeless moment that all this understanding would be taken away from her, that she'd be thrown into darkness and ignorance. She felt the reassurance of her companion, and she understood, with Christ-like compassion, the frailty and limitations of man. One brief glimpse into eternity, and then it was all washed away.

Her eyes opened.

"She's conscious!"

"Get her back on the ventilator!"

Her father's voice saying, "Honey, can you hear us? Katie Anne, can you hear us?"

"She's alive! Praise the Lord, she's alive!"

"Ethan..."

"I'm here, Katie Anne. I'm here."

"My baby..."

She was only vaguely aware of shouting, and hands on her, attaching things to her.

"Ethan, what's she saying?"

Then they covered her face with an oxygen mask.

Chapter 25