You Only Die Twice (26 page)

She’d
been here before.

I’m
dying.

The
thought was not calming or re
assuring―it was a jolt.
 
The idea repelled her.
 
How could this be happening again?
 

But it
was happening.
 
She knew this
feeling of weightlessness.
 
She
remembered this unwanted slight against her life.
 
She took a breath, but not her
last.
 
Not yet.
 
Not yet.

Not yet.

Before
she fully left her body, she opened her eyes, looked up at the rage on his
flashing blue-and-orange face, saw that triumph had returned to his eyes, and
with whatever part of her still had the strength to move, her hands reflexively
darted up, she turned her thumbs into spears, and she buried them deep into his
eyes until she could feel them collapse, squish and then mash under the sheer
pressure of her own rage.

EPILO
GUE

FOUR
MONTHS LATER

JANUARY

Patty
Jennings stood in her cramped kitchen among rows of boxes, all of which were
packed and piled high for her move to Portland, where she finally had decided
to live and start a new life for herself.
 

That
move started today, in about fifteen minutes, when the moving company was set
to show up and haul her out of here.
 

She was
finished with Bangor.
 
It was time
to put it and its people and their uninformed ideas about who she was or who
she wasn’t behind her.
  
She
was through with being the town joke.
 
In Portland, she knew no
one and no one knew her, with the exception of
her new employer, for whom she couldn’t wait to see again because it was James
Coleman’s brother.
 
Like James, he
also was a lawyer, he had a successful practice in Portland, and because of
James―and more than a little help from his wife, Barbara―she now
was William Coleman’s executive assistant.

Not bad
for the faux town tramp
, she thought.

It was
snowing outside, the house had the chill that came not from a lack of heat, but
from a lack of personal items to give it warmth, and Cheryl’s cat, Blanche, sat
on top of one of the boxes, looking as bored and as non-plussed as usual.
 
Nothing rattled her.
 
Not even this move.
 
Patty loved her for it.
 

Blanche
was a rock.

Patty
took her in four months ago, right after the incident that still haunted her,
and as fall waned into winter, she increasingly thought of Blanche as her own
cat.
 
Which was good since they now
were stuck with each other, for better or worse.

“Through
thick and thin, right, Blanche?”

The cat
closed its eyes as if in disinterest, but Patty could hear her purring four
feet away.

This was
only the third apartment she’d ever had and as she walked around it now with
her arms folded around her waist, she recalled the few good times she had here,
usually a movie and pizza spent with Cheryl on a Saturday night, and other
memories she’d rather forget.
 

Leaving one’s
home was akin to leaving a part of oneself behind.
 
There was an ache that came with
it―a finality that wasn’t unlike a death.
 
For the most part, with the exception of
her time with Cheryl, Patty Jennings’ life had been lonely.
 
Unhappiness
found
her early in life, decided it rather liked her and thought it was best to keep
her that way.
 
Obviously, she had
enjoyed a few good times in her life, but strolling from room to room now,
where she had lived for the better part of six years, it was remarkable to her
that nothing remarkable had ever happened to her here, with the exception of
the rape that changed everything.
 

Even she
was surprised that she’d stayed here as long as she had after the assault, but
given all that had happened, she wasn’t mentally prepared for a move.
 

Knowing
how difficult things were for her, four months ago Barbara Coleman ordered a
cleaning service to clean the apartment at once.
 
She took Patty to Macy’s at the mall and
together, they chose new bedding, new towels,
new curtains, new
clothes―and threw out the old.
 
Barbara said she and James were looking for a new living room and
bedroom set, and insisted on giving her theirs, even though Patty could tell
when they arrived that they were no more than a few months old.

Barbara’s
effort appeared to be twofold―change the apartment enough to make it look
newish to Patty, and also to try to get rid of any trace of him and what he did
to her here.
 
While on one level
Barbara managed to achieve her goals, what Patty would nev
er tell
her because she loved Barbara is that after what he had done to her and
especially to Cheryl, would forever make this place reek with the memory of
him.

Outside,
she heard the sound of a van pulling up alongside the curb in front of the
front door.
 
She had the downstairs
apartment, so at least the move would be easier given the amount of snow that
was falling.
 
Before the movers got
out of the truck, she went into the kitchen for her cell and called.

Cheryl
Dunning answered on the second ring.
 
“Are they there?”

“Just
got here.”

“You
ready for this?”

“Are you
joking?
 
Let’s get the hell out of
here,” Patty said.
 
“Let’s get to
Portland, move into our new apartment, go out to dinner tomorrow night to
celebrate, and start over.
 
I’m
excited.
 
You?”

“You
have no idea,” Cheryl said.
 
“Wish I
could help, but my leg is still crap.
 
Give Blanche a kiss for me.
 
Tell her I miss her terribly.
 
I’ll see you and the movers in a few.”

*
 
*
 
*

In her
apartment at the back end of the Colemans’ house, Cheryl Dunning leaned on her
walking stick as she and Barbara Coleman surveyed the apartment, with its piles
of packed boxes taking up most of the kitchen and much of the living room.
 
It seemed remote and chilly to Cheryl,
who had lived here for years and who had come to love it as much as she loved
the Colemans.

The
absence of Blanche, cared for by Patty since the two operations on Cheryl’s
leg, only amplified the chill.

“A few
days ago, I had a cleaning service come and give me an estimate on cleaning the
apartment for me,” Cheryl said.
 
“I
can’t do it myself.
 
I apologize for
that.
 
But since I knew you’d never
allow it, I paid them before they left.
 
They’ll be here at noon today.
 
I graduated with the woman who owns the company.
 
We were friends once.
 
She’ll do a great job for
you and
James―I’m sure of it.”

“You
know we planned to take care of that, Cheryl.
 
You need the extra money.
 
It’s not an issue for us.”

Cheryl
smiled at the older woman with the motherly face.
 
She had joined her father and her
grandfather in caring for her over the past four months.
 
She put her free hand on Barbara’s
shoulder, and the two hugged.
 
“I’ll
miss you so much,” Cheryl said.
 
“You’ve been so good to me.
 
Many haven’t.”

“Oh,
don’t make me cry.
 
You know I’m a
soft touch.”

They
parted and Barbara held a hand to Cheryl’s cheek, which she leaned into.
 
Their eyes were bright, likely because
this really was the end of a difficult four months, which began when she died
in the ambulance on the way to the hospital, only to be brought back to life by
the doctors there.
 

There
was a knock at the door.
 
Cheryl
raised her eyebrows at Barbara and went to answer it.
 
It was her father and grandfather, here
for their farewells.
 
Both were
tall, strapping men.
 
Her father was
fifty-four, brown hair, rugged face, eyes the color of th
e sky on a
foggy day.
 
Her grandfather almost
was his mirror image, with a few differences that came from age―his hair
was white and he didn’t stand quite as straight as he used to these days.
 
But he was strong as hell―she knew
that.

“You
sure you want to do this?” her grandfather asked.

“I’m
sure.”

“Because
you don’t need to,” her father said.
 

“Actually,
I do.
 
It will be a relief to put
this behind me and start fresh somewhere else.
 
And I’ll only be two hours south.
 
Don’t forget that.
 
I could have moved to Boston.
 
Patty and I considered it for a
moment.”
 
She nudged his arm.
 
“You know, if you still got it in you,
we could play ball between Bangor and Portland.”

But her
father wasn’t in a light mood.
 
He
looked grim and troubled, but nodded at Barbara Coleman nevertheless.
 
“Then I guess we owe Mrs. Coleman our
thanks for helping to get Patty a job in Maine.”

“All I
did was offer enthusiastic support,” Barbara said.

The men
thanked her.

“Where
are you off to?” Cheryl said.
 
“You’re all padded up.
 
Ice
fishing?”

“That
time of year,” her father said.
 
“But we wanted to come by first and give you a little something.”

“A hug
and a kiss?”

“Something
else, but those will come.
 
So long
as you ask nicely.”

“You’re
so full of it.”

“I found
something in the garage,” he said.
 
“Couldn’t believe it when I saw it.
 
I wanted to keep it myself, which means that you should have it.
 
It’s like I’ve always told you.
 
For the right person, the one who
understands, you always give what you want yourself.”

“Mom
also used to say that.”

“She
did.
 
She was a good woman.”

“The
best.”

“No
better.”

“So,
what is it?”

He
reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the baseball they used to toss
back and forth on their front lawn when she was a kid.
 
She recognized it immediately and
brought her fist to her mouth.
 
“I
haven’t seen that in years.”

He
handed it to her.
 
“We had a lot of
fun with it, didn’t we, kid?”

She
started to tear up.
 
“I’ll miss you
both so much,” she said, hugging them.
 
“Even if I will be calling you every night, I’ll miss you both.
 
You have no idea how much.
 
Thank you for teaching me everything I
know.
 
You saved my life in those
woods.”

“No,
Cheryl, honey,” her grandfather said.
 
“You saved your own life.
 
Don’t you forget that.
 
That
was you in those woods.
 
Alone.
 
That was you fighting him.
 
Alone.
 
You think about that and never forget
it.
 
It wasn’t your father or
me.
 
You survived because you stood
up against that son of a bitch and fought him.
 
You survived because that’s who you
are.
 
You’re a survivor.
 
You’ve made the whole family proud,
especially us.
 
Mostly us.”

He
looked at Barbara.
 
“Sorry for my
language, ma’am.”

“No need
to apologize.
 
He
was
a son
of a bitch,” Barbara said.
 
“And I
don’t mind saying that I’m glad that officer shot him dead after what he did to
Cheryl and all of the other young women they’ve linked him and his friend
to.
 
He deserved to die.
 
I hope he rots in hell.”