Mother (59 page)

The door opened and light from the hall spilled into the room.
 

Babs Vandercooth ran into the Pleasanton hospital while Carl parked the car. They’d made it in record time, thanks to Carl’s skill behind the wheel and a lack of fog.
 

 
“I’m here to see my sister, Dorothy Meyers. She was admitted earlier tonight.”

The nurse turned to her computer and looked up as Carl arrived at Babs’ side. “I don’t have any record of a Dorothy Meyers.”

“Dorothy Winchester Meyers. Or Dorothy Winchester?” Dorothy’d been divorced for a decade so maybe she’d dropped the Meyers.
 

“No, ma’am. Nothing matches.”

Carl put his arm around Babs’ shoulders. “Was a woman in her late forties brought in last night after a traffic accident?”

“I don’t think so, let me check.” The nurse went back to the computer.

“Maybe she didn’t have ID on her, Babs,” Carl said, his voice low and gentle.
 

Babs leaned against him, unable to speak.

“Babs!”

They turned to see Blanche, her older sister, come through the door. She trotted up and hugged them both. “Well?”

“We’re waiting. They can’t find her.”

“I’m sorry,” the nurse said. “There were no accident victims brought in last night.”

“Are you sure?” Babs asked.

“I was here. It was a very quiet night. I’m sorry.”

“We were both called to come here,” Blanche said. “Someone called.”

The nurse looked from one sister to the other. “I’m sorry, but I think they told you the wrong hospital. Maybe you should try phoning your sister. If she doesn’t answer, I’ll give you a list of other local hospitals to call.” She turned back to her work.

The three of them left the nurse’s station and huddled in a corner of the silent lobby. Babs pulled out her phone and hit Dorothy’s number.

On the sixth ring, Dorothy answered, her voice full of sleep. “Babs, what’s wrong?”

“Are you okay? Where are you?”

“Its 3:30 in the morning. I’m in my bed. Where are you?”

“We - Carl, Blanche and me - are at John Muir Hospital.”

“Why?”

“Someone called and said you were hurt in an auto accident. We just got here.”

Silence on the other end of the line. “I’m fine. I stayed in last night watching an
NCIS
marathon. Sounds like somebody was pulling your leg. Listen, I’d love to see you all. You remember how to get here?”

Babs glanced at Carl. “Of course we want to see you. I’m so glad you’re okay! We all are.”

“Well, drive on over and I’ll make breakfast.”

“We’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Babs told her, “but Carl and I can’t stay long. Don’t worry about breakfast.”
 

“You need to eat. It’ll be ready when you get here,” Dorothy said.
 

“We’ll see you soon,” Babs said, then looked at Carl and Blanche. “She’s fine. We’re invited for breakfast.”

“But the phone calls,” said Blanche. “Who would have done such a thing?”

“Someone with a terrible sense of humor,” Babs said.
 

Blanche, always the optimist, laughed. “Well, at least we get breakfast out of this wild goose chase!”

They walked to their cars. “I’ll follow you two. I haven’t been here since Dot moved.”

A moment later, Carl and Babs were pulling back onto the highway. “I hope your sister doesn’t mind if I get a few hours of sleep before we head back,” Carl said.

“I’ll drive,” said Babs. “We need to be back by eight a.m. You can nap in the car.”

“You didn’t sleep either. What’s the hurry? Don’t you want to see your sisters?”

“Yes, but I’m worried about Claire. And there’s the potluck.”

Carl nodded. “I understand. We’ll do what you think is best.”

Claire thought Dr. Hopper looked like a little pink bullfrog as he listened to her heart and lungs. He smelled like toothpaste. “There’s nothing wrong with me,” she told him. She was glad to see him because the first thing he did after turning on the light was untie her.

“Your mother says you’ve been having hallucinations.” Hopper looked concerned as he rubbed her wrists, smoothing away the rope marks, easing out the pins and needles.

Mother-monster stepped up and loomed over the bed, her red fangs dripping yellow venom in thick mucoid drops. “Be quiet, Carlene. You need to rest.”

“I will
not
be quiet, Mother-monster. I’m fine. Please leave the room.”

Mother shape-shifted into a humongous Pez dispenser, her mouth a giant maw that flapped and clicked as she spoke. “I’m your nurse, Carlene, I must stay and assist the doctor.”

“If your daughter is more comfortable-” began the froggy little physician.

“Get out, Pez-head,” Claire ordered. “Now. You’re scaring the frog.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, dear,” Pez-head intoned in the same syrup-slow voice the Mother-monster had used. “A nurse never leaves a doctor alone to examine a female patient, isn’t that right, Doctor?”

The frog-doctor’s cheeks blew up red and his tongue came out and snatched a few ants off the ceiling.
 

“That’s a really long tongue you have there,” Claire said.

Pez-head’s broad smile broke her face in two.

“Excuse me?” the doctor said between
ribbits
.
 

“Tong,” Claire said, suddenly clear. “Tong - my husband called stethoscopes tongs when he was a little boy.”
 

“He never told me that, Carlene.” Mother’s head flipped back up and the Pez body turned into a hula girl, hips swaying above Mother’s face. It looked normal now, except that her pale skin gleamed and shimmered like a snake’s. Something rattled under the hula skirt.

“Why would he?” asked Dr. Hopper, looking normal again.

Maybe the hallucinations are going away!

“Why wouldn’t he?” Mother huffed before looking down at Claire. “We’ve had some very nice long talks, you know.” Her tongue flicked out, forking over Claire’s body. It felt like electric sparks.

Claire watched in fascination, remembering that serpents used their tongues to taste things.
Mother’s tasting me. I wonder what I taste like.
 

Dr. Hopper stared at Mother and let out a big
ribbit
. Mother hissed at him. There were words, too. Claire could see the letters tumbling toward the ceiling, but she couldn’t make them out. She stared at the doctor, wanting to know what was wrong with her, but she didn’t trust him, even if he did seem annoyed with Mother.
 

She watched the ants on the ceiling. They were in formation now, like a band on a football field. They were spelling out words. “I’m not dead. I’m not dead and I’m coming back.”

“What’s that?” asked the doctor. His head reformed into that of an ant and he had shiny blue mandibles. He kept them nice and clean, too.

“I’m not dead,” Claire repeated. “I’m not dead, and I’m coming back.”

“Of course you’re not dead,” said Mother, looking upset. Her amber eyes had turned deep yellow, and her pupils were long and thin, as reptilian as her skin.
 

“You’re such a snake,” Claire told her, then turned to Hopper. “I’m not dead and I’m coming back. That’s what I keep hearing.”
 

“Psychotic break is a definite possibility,” Mother said. “Don’t you agree, Doctor?”

Dr. Hopper had turned into a lizard and his neck fringe shot out around his face. “Please don’t try to make a diagnosis.” He looked to Claire. “Your pupils are dilated. Have you taken anything?”

“What do you mean?”

He glanced at Priscilla. “Has your mother given you any drugs today?”

“Of course I haven’t given her any drugs. My God, she’s pregnant, Gerald. What do you think I am?”

“Mother-monster,” said Claire as a googly-green eye sprouted on Mother’s forehead.
 

The doctor studied Claire. “Well, your blood pressure is up a little, but not enough to worry about. Just stay quiet and rest. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes.”
 

“Dr. Hopper.” Mother looked like her pissed-off old self again, except for the bloodshot third eye. “She’s been violent and she’s obviously having hallucinations that are
not
drug-induced. What are you going to do about it?”

Hopper looked at Claire. “Are you having hallucinations?”

“No.” She tried to set Mother on fire with her glare. The third eye blinked.

“Your brother talks to you?” he asked Claire.

“I was dreaming,” she lied.
 

“Well?” Mother asked Hopper.

“I don’t see anything wrong here, Priscilla. If you want, I can arrange to have her taken to the hospital for psychiatric evaluation.”

“Yes, I want to go,” Claire said.
 

“No!” Mother spoke over her. “Carlene will stay at home under my care. Just please give her something to help her sleep. I can’t risk her attacking me again.”

“What?” Claire said. “You’re lying!”

“Why would I lie about my own daughter attacking me? It’s humiliating enough to admit it, I certainly wouldn’t lie about it, you selfish girl.”

Hopper raised an eyebrow but said nothing to Mother. Instead, he looked at Claire. “You do look like you haven’t had much rest.” He started digging around in his medical bag.

“What are you doing?” Claire asked.

He sat back up. “It’s just something to help you sleep a little while. Won’t hurt the baby.”

“No-” but he injected her before she could say more.
 

“Now, Doctor, about that psychotic break,” Mother said.

“She needs to see a psychiatrist, not a GP. He looked out at the growing gray dawn. “As I said, I can make arrangements-”

“No.” Mother’s voice sounded harsh. “I won’t have my pregnant daughter institutionalized when I am perfectly capable of caring for her.”

Claire stared at her mother, then snickered. “I see what you did there.”

Mother gave her a look so venomous she recoiled. Then the third eye disappeared as Mother’s face flattened into that of a serpent’s again.
 

“Don’t bite me,” Claire said. “Don’t bite me and don’t shed your skin in my room!”

Hopper was staring at her, but Mother hustled him out, her angry rattles so loud that Claire heard them all the way down the stairs. Then she heard Mother and Dr. Hopper arguing but they were too far from the vent, so she couldn’t make out the words. By the time the front door slammed and Hopper drove off,
Teddy Bear’s Picnic
had started up once again. She yawned.
 

“Sunrise over the mesa,” Paul said. “You know, I thought you were nuts when you said we had to get up at 5:30, but this was definitely worth getting out of bed for.”
 

“Thought you’d like it.” Steffie refilled their coffees from the Thermos, then turned to gaze out at the colorful sunrise. They sat in her Range Rover on Cemetery Hill, where they could see the entire town and the desert and the dark mountains that hid Sedona from view.
 

“I do. I love being here.”

She smiled. “I thought we could go back to my place for breakfast, grab the luggage, then head for the airport.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Paul looked out over Brimstone. “I feel like I’m in the Old West.”

“That’s because you are.” She laughed. “Have you heard from Jason yet?”

“No, he’s probably in the air by now. I hope - I was having so much fun last night, I forgot to check the Denver weather. Hopefully, the storm didn’t interfere with their flight.”

“I hope not. I’m looking forward to meeting Jason and seeing Claire again.”

Paul smiled at her and she felt an unexpected flutter in her belly. She smiled back.

Approaching Dawn
 

The storm had begun to ease and Jason had finally located a flight, a private commuter jet going straight to Snapdragon. It was scheduled to take off at 10 a.m., weather permitting. Jake would wait until the skies were clearer before flying his plane home.
 

Jason tried Claire once more, but there was no answer. It was only four in California - she was probably fast asleep. Too tired to think, Jason set his alarm for seven-thirty and flopped down on the bed. He was asleep in minutes.

In Claire’s dream, she stood barefoot amid at least a hundred thousand puzzle pieces, all scattered in various directions spanning as far as she could see. She was in a white room with no doors or windows, and she wore no clothes. Staring, she tried to make out any evidence of walls, floor, or ceiling, but wasn’t able to. It was just white … for miles … in all directions.

She looked down at the puzzle pieces that littered the floor. “Help me,” she whispered. “I don’t know where to start.”

Only her own echo answered her.

“Please. Tell me what’s happening.”

A sudden
bang!
Her world, a sheet of blank paper, was ripped in two.

Bang!

A biting chemical scent and
Opium
perfume filled her nostrils, bled into her lungs, and set her head spinning.

Bang!
 

The puzzle pieces jumped, and the invisible floor opened.

Claire lost her footing and fell through empty air, clawing at emptiness, heart in her throat.

And then she was awake.

Bang!
 

That hadn’t been a dream. It was real. Claire sat up, listening.
Bang!
The scents were real, too.
Or are they?
She couldn’t tell anymore.

Bang!
She turned in the direction of the sound, and the world became a smear of colors, dragging as her eyes shifted.

Bang!
 

“Stop. Please, just stop.” She sank into her sheets - her warm, safe sheets. “I’m okay. I’m in my room, in bed, and everything’s fine.” The lie tasted like burnt toast on her tongue. Everything around her was still a blur of colors and shapes that moved and swayed, and even sometimes talked to her. “Please stop,” she cried, but the room only giggled. The lamp on the nightstand became a goose with an impossibly long and rubbery neck. Its black eyes gleamed as its head swayed toward her, its long, sharp beak aiming for her eyes. She screamed and pulled the pillow over her face.