As the Crow Flies, page 37
* * *
Gwen spent the next three hours on the porch with her laptop, searching documents, looking up contacts. Pete Russo, an anesthesiologist she’d once interviewed, was particularly interested in NDEs, near-death experiences. He wholeheartedly believed in them and was well respected by people in the field of paranormal research. Maybe he’d be able to recommend someone. She found contact numbers for a few others whose brains she had picked while writing her own papers.
If all else failed, she’d speak with the minister at the United Church of Christ. It was the family’s church and she knew him. Not that anyone there would believe any of this. Or maybe Rosa could sneak home holy water from the Catholic church—a gallon or so might do the trick. It was worth a try. Who knew. Maybe dousing Sam would dislodge Alley’s spirit. If it did, Alley might still be here, earthbound, but she’d return to the parameters of the pond. And Sam, having learned a hard lesson, would know better than to ever attempt physical contact.
Whatever she had to do, she would make things right. It was her dog, her dog’s ghost that was haunting Sam. She’d find a way to fix this. And when it was over, she’d make things right between the two of them, unless Sam herself was having second thoughts. After pushing her away, she couldn’t very well blame Sam for not wanting to come around anymore. She’d probably send Liz to collect her crow and belongings and become nothing more than a memory—the memory of the most wonderful affair with the most wonderful woman she’d ever known.
Gwen picked up Sam’s cards on the table, read the poems again, and smoothed her fingertips over Sam’s handwriting. The first card had arrived yesterday, and when she received the second one in today’s post, she’d broken down. Yes, whispers would serve her much better. Hearing those whispers, feeling the brush of Sam’s lips against her ear, was all she wanted right now.
Everyone else on the property was happy today, and the joyous sounds of that happiness were beginning to grate on her nerves. Rosa was in the kitchen, making salsa and talking to Eugene on speakerphone. Every few minutes the two of them laughed their heads off over something apparently funny and spoken in Spanish, and Loosey was happily barking in the distance. Gwen guessed she was in the cottage where Isabel and Liz were working. They had music playing, and every once in a while, laughter erupted from there as well. Happy sounds. Normally she would have been elated to hear the happiness, but right now it was aggravating her no end. She wanted to think and suffer in silence. And when she couldn’t take the joyous noises anymore, she looked down at Blue sitting beneath the table. The Scottie looked as solemn as she felt. “You and me, kiddo. How about getting out of here and taking a walk?” she asked.
Blue’s ears perked up. She stood and shook herself in the affirmative.
“I thought so. Let’s go.” Gwen went into the house, came out with a leash, and they were off for a long trek down the road. Walking always calmed and helped her think clearly.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Around five in the afternoon, Samantha passed the apple orchards and had just turned onto Gwen’s road when she noticed a curling wisp of smoke circle her head. She glanced up and around, then looked in the rearview mirror and shrieked at the ghostly dog staring at her. In one seamless move, she threw the car into park, unbuckled her seat belt, and jumped out. “JESUS CHRIST!” she screamed and flung open the back door. “GET OUT. GO! LEAVE ME ALONE!”
She should have been used to the ghost popping up without warning. They’d shared a bed last night, and who knew how many nights before that, so why should seeing her in the car be any more shocking? But it was. It reminded her of those horror movies where the poor guy makes it to the car and locks the doors, thinking he’s safe from the monster, only to glance in his rearview mirror and see it sitting there in the back seat.
Samantha bent over, rested trembling hands on her thighs, and stayed that way until she caught her breath. The soothing sound of running water came from a nearby creek. She’d spent the last three days on tour, in one city after the next, and the quiet peacefulness here seemed magnified. Then it struck her. She straightened and looked all around in a daze. One side of the road was wooded, trees tall and looming, and across from them was an open field, an orange sun hanging low in the western sky.
What the heck was she even doing here? Gwen wasn’t expecting her, and she hadn’t intended to come. The plan had been to head straight home, and she couldn’t remember exactly when or why she’d decided to detour. Leaving the ghost in the car and walking the quarter mile came to mind, but she knew it would only follow. Besides, she was too exhausted to walk, so tired that she felt like stretching out in that sun-warmed field and sleeping for a while.
Samantha looked again at Alley, shouted at her, but the ghost-dog seemed impervious to her ranting. She wouldn’t even glance at Samantha. She was standing on all fours, perfectly materialized in Technicolor, fixated on the road ahead and panting a smile like a lost dog who’d finally found its way home.
“Jesus, help me…” Samantha got back in, put the car in drive, and looked in the rearview mirror. Alley was destabilizing now, coming undone, turning white and losing clarity. As the image dissipated, its energy filled Samantha with an immediate and intense joy—no, not filled her, it swathed her. It enveloped the whole car. Slowly, she continued.
A figure appeared in the distance, too far away to know if it was a man or a woman. A little farther, and Samantha saw something moving low to the ground beside the figure. A dog, she decided. A person walking a dog. Another hundred yards and both figures gained distinction. The person was a woman. She could see the blond hair in the afternoon sunlight, the stocky black dog. Gwen and Blue? It must have been, because a deafening shriek issued from inside the car, an ear-piercing cry of thrilled anticipation. It intensified to such a high pitch that she feared her eardrums might rupture. Alley was home. And she’d spotted Gwen.
Cringing, Samantha stepped on the brake, took her hands off the wheel to cover her ears. The screeching stopped and everything was quiet, still for a moment, until the ghost’s heavy presence began to creep forward, pushing itself between the front seats, forcing its way into her lap with the undulating rhythm of a serpent.
“Get off me!” she yelled, jabbing wildly at it with an elbow.
Stronger than she was now, it kept coming, wedging itself between her chest and the steering wheel. She tried to push it away, but its energy seemed only to expand, putting enormous pressure on her chest and a paralyzing weight on her legs as it worked its way down to the floor. She kept her foot on the brake, struggling to free herself, to throw the car into park and jump the hell out. But before she could she heard a deep rumble, a guttural and threatening growl of warning that shook both the car and Samantha intensely. She felt the lash of invisible teeth against her face and scalp, felt her foot being lifted off the brake, placed on the gas pedal.
The SUV took off then, the jolt of sudden acceleration causing Samantha’s head to fall back against the seat. The speedometer needle climbed to forty within seconds. Up ahead, she saw Gwen rush to the shoulder of the road with her dog, as though wondering what maniac was speeding out of control along this quiet back road. Samantha tried to lift her foot from the pedal, but it felt heavy as lead. She held tight to the steering wheel, trying to keep the car straight, but it was being pulled to the right, aimed directly for Gwen.
Gwen’s eyes widened as the distance quickly closed and she seemed to realize it was Samantha coming at her. The two of them exchanged looks of horror. Gwen froze in place, but Blue bolted into the woods, yanking Gwen’s arm so hard when she reached the end of her leash that Gwen lost her balance.
Samantha wrestled with the wheel, using every muscle in her body to turn it to the left. She’d rather run off the road, hit a tree, lose her own life, than let Alley kill Gwen. “I won’t let you have her!” she screamed at the force that had both her and the wheel in its grip.
With every bit of energy, with every ounce of strength she had, Samantha pushed against the entity in her lap, hugged the wheel, and with all her might she managed to swerve just before the car plowed into Gwen. The car turned sharply, the sideview mirror whacking Gwen just as Blue’s forceful yank made her topple back into the safety of the brush. Time seemed to slow as the SUV flipped and slid down the road on its roof. The last thing Samantha saw from the window was the upside-down tree just before she crashed into it. She heard the sickening thud, heard the airbags deploy. Bang, bang, bang! They fired off like gunshots, salting the air with a fine white powder that obscured her vision. Metal crunched. Glass shattered.
A sudden darkness took Samantha. She felt herself passing out, but a moment later she was conscious again. Everything stopped and a quiet stillness engulfed her. She waited for the excruciating pain, preferring it to the numbing paralysis of a severed spine, perhaps. And the pain did come as she struggled to untwist and orient herself. Confused, caught in the tangle of airbags, she struggled to right herself, not sure which direction was up. But her leg was trapped. She reached blindly for it, grabbing it with both hands and pulling, but quickly let go when she felt a searing pain. Her hands came back dripping blood. Her pants were soaked. Everything was wet with blood. She lay back, feeling it pumping from her leg.
Suddenly Gwen was there at eye level, on her knees in the road, pounding on the window and shouting at her. Then Gwen was up, trying to open the mangled upside-down door. Gwen screamed something to her then and ran away, but Samantha couldn’t hear any of it. Sounds were fading, her vision blurring. Gwen was alive, though…Gwen would be okay. And then that thought faded along with all the other thoughts in her head, and she slipped back into darkness.
* * *
Music wafted from the cottage. Isabel and Liz had been in there working since breakfast, and since having sex up against the wall. Now they were trying out paint samples on it. The flooring Liz had ordered a week ago would be delivered tomorrow, and they needed to decide on paint colors. They both held brushes, but when Camila Cabello’s “Havana” came on the radio, Isabel stopped painting and danced up behind Liz. Her hips gyrated, slow and smoothly, as only Isabel’s hips could move. Liz felt the rhythm against her back, felt those hips softly grinding her ass. Over the past several days it appeared Isabel had embarked on a long-overdue quest of sexual discovery. She’d become extremely curious, unexpectedly assertive, and Liz was loving every minute of it.
“Ms. Laraway…my, my, my…” Liz turned around, the paintbrush in her hand, and narrowed her eyes seductively. “What have I unleashed?”
Isabel played coy, as if surprised by her own behavior. She smiled that demure and tantalizing smile of hers, then hid her face in Liz’s neck, as though suddenly shy. “Am I too much? Are you complaining?”
“No! Never! Absolutely not!” Liz laughed, luxuriating in the feel of Isabel’s hot lips as she kissed and nibbled and trailed her tongue down Liz’s throat. Liz held her head back, giving Isabel full access. “Baby, you can take me anytime, anyplace, anywhere, anyhow.”
Isabel pulled back and gazed into her eyes with wonderment, as if thoroughly amazed by how wonderful it was to let go—to love, to desire someone so much. Liz covered Isabel’s mouth with her own then, and the two of them melted into a deep kiss until a raucous sound louder than the music came through the open cottage door.
They pulled back from each other and listened. “What’s going on out there?” Liz said, but before either of them could look, Bertha flew in. Cawing frantically, she landed, looked at them, ran out the door, and took off again. They stared at each other, dropped their paintbrushes, and dashed after the crow.
“Where’s Loosey?” Isabel asked as she took the lead, racing from the back of the property.
“I don’t know. Rosa must have let her in.” Liz ran behind her along the side of the house. When they reached the front, they stopped and gazed around. Bertha stood in the driveway, waiting for them. She squawked again and then was back in flight, headed down the driveway. Isabel started to run again, scanning the property as she did, but suddenly she stopped, and Liz almost bumped into her.
Isabel pointed to the pond. “I didn’t know Sam was here…and who’s that…that dog?” The moment the words came out, she covered her mouth and gasped at the sight of the obviously familiar canine who’d died seven years ago. “My God…it can’t be. That looks like…like…oh, Alley…”
“I thought you couldn’t see her ghost.” Liz didn’t see any of what Isabel saw, but she felt that presence. And it didn’t feel good today. It exuded something ominous and oppressive. And Sam? She couldn’t see Sam either. “Come on, let’s go,” she said and started running again. But here came Gwen, running up the driveway. She was frantic, breathless.
“Call 911! Call 911!” she screamed. “Hurry! Sam’s had an accident. Tell them she’s trapped inside and losing blood. Someone get me a towel and a hammer—now!”
Isabel looked at her with an open mouth, obviously bewildered, and she pointed to the pond. “But…but Sam’s fine. She’s right there…walking with…with…”
Gwen followed Isabel’s finger and began to sway dizzily. “NO!” she cried out. “Oh no…no, no, no, Sam. Please don’t leave me!” And when Sam smiled and waved at her, she staggered back and forth and then collapsed.
Clearly confused, Isabel dropped to her knees beside Gwen. “What’s going on here? Aunt Gwen?” She slapped her cheek. “Aunt Gwen!”
Liz didn’t waste a moment. She spun around and raced to the phone in house. It was closer than the cottage. A minute later she was back, zooming past Isabel with towels under her arm. And running right behind her was Rosa, holding a hammer and something rope-like.
“Is Gwen breathing?” Rosa asked Isabel without stopping.
“Yes.”
“Then leave her. Vamos, let’s go,” she ordered.
Liz was in the lead, dreading what she would find when she reached the road. If Sam died she didn’t know what she would do. She didn’t think she’d be able to live through it.
Bertha’s frantic call cut through the sweet summer air, and in the near distance she heard the approaching sound of several sirens.
* * *
Samantha didn’t feel half bad. The pain had subsided, and she wasn’t bleeding anymore. How she’d gotten out of her car she didn’t know. She remembered Gwen pounding on the window, then going for help, and the next thing Alley was licking her face—probably in apology for attacking her, wrecking her Range Rover, and nearly killing Gwen. Walking up the driveway would have made more sense, but she was following Alley through the woods. She called out to Gwen then, but for some reason couldn’t hear herself. Her voice was strangely muted. She hollered again, louder this time. Nothing. The whole world seemed eerily silent.
Without much effort Samantha moved through the thicket, strolling through the woods and up around the pond without really moving her feet. She felt different, weightless. Even the water, the trees, the sky looked different. Something about the entire landscape had changed. It was almost colorless. She saw the white house ahead, felt herself passing by, and as she did she saw Gwen, Isabel, and Liz. They were standing together looking at her from the far distance. She waved to them, wanted to go to them, but she didn’t know how to stop this force that had set her in motion. It felt like the hose of a giant vacuum was stuck to her chest, and although the suction wasn’t too strong, it kept her moving forward. She couldn’t stop it.
Two crows landed in a tree in front of her. One watched while the other appeared to be calling to her. Bertha. It had been almost a week since she’d seen her. Her beak opened and closed, and Samantha thought she could almost hear her, but the sounds were weak and muffled, as though Samantha were hearing them from underwater. From one tree to the next they flew, following her, keeping up with her, until suddenly that suction on her chest strengthened, and she began moving faster than the crows could fly. She heard a humming all around her then, a sound she remembered hearing once while standing in the field of a power station—the hum of electrical energy. When she looked back, both the crows and the white house seemed miles away. The present faded into the past, far away and long ago. The humming grew louder, like a plane on takeoff, and she began to vibrate. Everything around her shimmered and vibrated. She felt the weight of something piggyback her, and with a sudden jolt she was sucked into that vacuum at the speed of light.
So many images and memories, colors and sounds passed her in rapid succession. It was a disorienting ordeal, though not entirely unpleasant, and she didn’t feel scared. She was moving too fast to feel anything as she traveled, pulled through this cosmic thread in time, until everything stopped and she stood alone someplace in a heavy mist. It was thick as fog, but golden rays of sunlight burned through in places.
She felt something lift from her then. That energy that had swathed her like a heavy coat in the car suddenly slipped away, fell from her, and Alley was by her side. The dog shook herself and looked up at Samantha. She patted the dog’s head. She would have been justified in hating Alley, but she was alone now and oddly grateful for the company. She ran her fingers through the dog’s warm, thick fur. It caught the rays of light, and Samantha was struck by its rich beauty.
Something caught the dog’s attention just then, and she lowered her head, staring straight ahead. Samantha squinted, struggled to focus as a pair of gray eyes peered out at them. They seemed to float in the mist, low to the ground, as smoky as the fog. Alley’s ears perked up, tail wagging, and she stepped forward. The eyes moved forward, too, and Samantha watched as the silvery body of a Weimaraner emerged.
