The Awakening Evil (5 page)

Sarah knew that wasn't what happened. She had been unable to move a single muscle. She couldn't even open her lips to scream.

“You could have been killed,” she said softly. “And I was powerless to help you.” Sarah shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes.

Sarah stared down at Thomas. Ointment coated his face. Linen bandages covered his entire body. He had been in terrible pain when Dr. Pierce put them on.

“Do not worry,” Dr. Pierce told her, closing up his medical kit. “These burns look bad, but they will heal. I promise you. Thomas will do just fine. He just needs to rest. Make sure he has few visitors.”

“I will make sure,” Sarah promised.

“Such bad luck,” Dr. Pierce said, shaking his head. “The one day that well turns hot.”

Bad luck? Sarah thought wildly. Something unnatural had happened at the mill. Something evil. How could the doctor dismiss it as bad luck?

Dr. Pierce must have noted the expression on her face, for he continued. “The well is driven by volcanic pressure. From time to time steaming water comes up through the well.” He shook his head again. “Such bad luck!”

Sarah felt herself flushing red with embarrassment. So there was a simple explanation for today's disaster, after all.

At least for the boiling water.

She knew if she told the doctor that she had been paralyzed, he would agree with Thomas. He would tell her that she was simply frightened.

But that couldn't possibly be true. Could it?

I was more frightened than I have ever been, Sarah thought.

“I will be back to check on our patient tomorrow,” Dr. Pierce said.

She thanked the doctor and saw him to the door. Then she hurried back up the stairs and returned to Thomas's bedside.

She vowed to herself that she would stay up all night, keeping watch over her sick husband.

The scene at the mill replayed in her mind again and again. The steam, the boiling water, Thomas screaming for help.

And whenever she closed her eyes, she could feel that awful sensation of being trapped inside her own skin. Unable to move a muscle.

A terrible wracking cough from Thomas pulled her out of her thoughts.

It was a horrible cough that sounded as if it came from deep in his lungs.

He turned, moaned softly, but kept sleeping.

She could see sweat wetting the bandages on his chest. And when she gently felt his forehead in the darkness, he felt as if he were on fire, as if she had reached her hand inside a furnace.

Thomas's coughing continued through the night.

The horrible coughs seemed to echo in Sarah's mind.

Taking her all the way back to her childhood.

When she was seven, her mother had passed on after a terrible bout of—

She stood, covering her mouth in horror as Thomas coughed yet again.

Sarah ran from the room, shouting for the maid.

She had one of the servants get word to Dr. Pierce to return at once.

He arrived an hour later. The sun was just beginning to rise.

It took him only a few minutes of examination before he confirmed her worst fears.

Pneumonia. Thomas had pneumonia.

He looked so pale, almost as white as the pillowcase beneath his head. His eyes had dark shadows beneath them.

“Now, don't look at me like that,” Dr. Pierce told Sarah. He gave a forced chuckle. “Pneumonia is not so terrible an illness for a strong, healthy young man like your husband. Obviously, it would be better if this had not happened. But my prediction hasn't changed. Your husband will be fine.”

He is lying, Sarah thought. Her heart felt heavy with dread.

Thomas began to shiver horribly.

“It is the fever,” Dr. Pierce explained, when Sarah turned to him with a pleading look.

“I am so cold,” Thomas murmured.

“You feel cold,” Dr. Pierce agreed, “but I'm afraid you are running a high fever, my good man.”

Sarah hurried to the closet. Yesterday, she couldn't help him when he needed her most. She would try to make up for it today, try to see to his every whim and need.

She found an old robe hanging in the closet, one which she could not remember him wearing in months. She pulled so hard on the robe that the wooden hanger snapped back against the wall with a loud crack.

As she hurried over to the bed with the robe, something fell to the floor at her feet.

She bent down. An envelope had fallen from Thomas's robe. An envelope addressed to Sarah Burns.

Sarah glanced at her husband. So frail and sickly and shrunken as he lay in the bed.

He must have slipped the envelope in his pocket and forgotten to tell her about it.

She returned to his bedside, studying the stamps. She was hoping the letter had come from Europe. From her best friend. But it was not the case.

Dr. Pierce and Thomas were both watching her. They looked as curious as she felt.

“It's a letter,” she explained. “I found it in your old robe, Thomas. You must have forgotten to give it to me.”

“I am so sorry,” he murmured in a faint voice. “I only barely remember it coming for you.”

She smiled. “It doesn't matter, Thomas. Please. We have enough to worry about.”

“Here,” Dr. Pierce said. He took a letter opener from Thomas's desk and handed it to Sarah.

“Thank you.” Sarah carefully slit open the envelope.

She began to read.

Then she began to scream.

D
r. Pierce rushed to her side.

Thomas struggled to sit up in his sickbed. He reached toward her.

Sobs welled up from deep inside Sarah. She couldn't control herself.

No! No!

Through her tears, she could see Thomas staring at her in alarm.

She stumbled to a chair and sat down. She rocked back and forth.

No, it couldn't be true!

And yet it was.

Thomas and Dr. Pierce waited for her to explain. She forced herself to sit up straight.

She clutched the letter to her chest, as if for comfort. She bit her trembling lip.

“I have often told you about my best friend … Jane Hardy,” she began. “Jane set sail for Europe at the same time I came to Shadyside.”

“The woman to whom you have been writing,” Thomas said.

“Yes. And from whom I have never had a response. Well, this letter is from her stepbrother,” Sarah said in a tiny voice she barely recognized as her own. “It seems that my friend, my dearest friend—”

She began to cry all over again. Thomas put his hand on hers.

Sarah knew she must be strong. For Thomas. Thomas was so sick. Thomas needed her.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand. Fresh tears wet her cheeks an instant later.

“Jane never got to London,” she told her husband. “The ship sank. Everyone—”

She felt her face crumple.

“Oh, Thomas. It is too horrible. Everyone drowned.”

“I'm so sorry,” Thomas said softly.

Sarah wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand again. “Thomas! It is too awful. And just think. This happened while you and I were on our nuptial journey to Niagara Falls. While we were being foolish and carefree.”

“You mustn't think that way,” Thomas said. Then he began to cough.

But Sarah couldn't help feeling a horrible stab of guilt. Niagara Falls. She had been so incredibly happy then. While her best friend—

There was a knock at the bedroom door.

Sarah looked at Thomas in surprise. Dr. Pierce had ordered Thomas not to see any visitors until he was stronger. The servants had been instructed to stay away unless she called for them. Who could this be?

The knock came again. Louder this time.

Sarah felt her body tense.

“Come in,” Dr. Pierce ordered.

The door swung open.

A man entered the room. Tall and stern-faced. With a black mustache that was waxed so stiffly it stuck out like a bird's wings on either side of his face.

Sarah's jaw dropped.

The letter fell from her hand.

“You!” she gasped.

T
he man stared at Sarah. His eyes widened.

“This—this is Jason Hardy,” Sarah stammered. “I hired him this morning. Uh, Phillip hasn't been feeling well, so I thought we should have another driver.”

Sarah glanced at Thomas. Could he tell she was lying?

No, she decided. He didn't appear to think there was anything odd about her hiring another servant without consulting him.

Jason continued to stare at Sarah. His eyes burning into hers.

I have to get away from Jason, Sarah thought. She didn't know what to say to him. She needed time to think.

She stood quickly and started toward the door. But she couldn't think of an excuse to leave the room. Couldn't think at all.

“I'm afraid that Mrs. Fear has just gotten some very shocking and terrible news,” Dr. Pierce explained. “About a close friend.”

“Excuse me, I must be alone for a moment—” she mumbled. Sarah hurried from the room.

She could feel Jason watching her. She could feel his eyes on her back.

She was halfway down the hall when another one of Thomas's horrible coughs ripped through the air. It felt like a bullet striking her.

She flew down the stairs.

Jason!

Jason Hardy here in Shadyside! Here in her house! Why did he follow her here? Now of all times! She couldn't bear it.

She banged out the back door. Clutching her skirts with both hands, she ran across the lawn. Up into the woods.

She had to get away. Away from everyone.

Sarah pushed her way through the trees. Branches slapped at her face. She paid no attention.

At last she found herself in the family cemetery.

She fell to the ground.

She leaned back against one of the headstones. Breathing long and slow and deep. Trying to collect herself.

A shadow fell across her face. She looked up.

Jason Hardy stared down at her.

He had followed her into the woods.

“Jane,” he said, his voice catching. “I thought … I thought you were dead.”

She couldn't speak. She shrugged helplessly.

“Oh, Jane,” Jason said. “You don't know what this means to me.”

He knelt beside her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. Suddenly, it didn't matter that his presence would only cause her problems. It only mattered that he was here when she needed him most.

They hugged each other hard. “Oh, Jason!” she cried. “Dearest Jason!”

All her fears disappeared. Relief and excitement took their place. Her darling stepbrother!

“But my head is spinning,” he said. “Jane, you have to tell me what is going on.”

“Stop calling me that,” she said, suddenly horrified. “I am not Jane. I am Sarah Burns. No, no, I am Sarah Fear.”

She shook her head. “I think I am losing my mind. If I have not lost it already.”

“Tell me what happened. You must tell me everything,” Jason demanded.

Jane took a deep breath. “We switched places,” she said.

She felt shocked herself, as she spoke the words out loud. It was really too incredible what she and Sarah had done.

“You did what?” Jason cried. He appeared stunned.

She nodded somberly. “Sarah and I, we switched places. We switched lives. Names. Identities. Everything. It is almost as if we switched souls. She became Jane. And I became Sarah.”

“Why would you—why would anyone do such a thing?” Jason asked.

“Well, you know Sarah,” Jane said. Her voice caught. She realized she was talking about Sarah as if she were still alive. But Sarah had drowned on a ship to London. Her best friend was dead.

Jason reached out and clutched her hand. After a moment, Jane was able to go on.

“Sarah was like me,” Jane continued. “She never liked to be told what to do.”

“That is certainly true,” Jason agreed.

Jason had once courted Sarah Burns. But they were both so stubborn that the match had not lasted a week. It had ended with a horrible screaming argument, and they had not spoken again since.