Enchantment (26 page)

If she was, then why had she flown down here? Had the folks insisted?

It wasn't going to be a fun weekend.

~

Holly dreamed of Ohlan that night.

She hadn't remembered any dreams until now, except for the vague floating before she'd awakened in the hospital. Maybe they were backing off the drugs.

She was drifting in the dark again, except that this time there were no pretty globes, and Ohlan wasn't holding her. He seemed subdued, barely glowing. She couldn't see him clearly, but she could hear his voice.

“I'm glad you're all right.”

She couldn't come up with an answer. Saying she wasn't glad he was dead was all she could think of, and it seemed rude.

“I hope you can forgive me for failing you,” Ohlan added.

“You didn't fail. I'm the one who failed.”

“It was my duty to protect you, and I didn't.”

“Well, you didn't know I was going to be an idiot.”

His voice softened, as if he was fading away. “You're not an idiot, Holly.”

“I miss you.”

Stupid thing to say to a—what was he? Did spirits have ghosts, or was that redundant?

“I miss you, too.”

Her heart clenched with pain. Eyes ached, but no tears came.

“Don't do this again, OK?” she whispered. “It hurts too much.”

His last words were barely audible, a sigh.

“I would never hurt you, my love.”

Then her tears poured.

~

Morning came. No release. Holly fretted silently while her mother fretted aloud and harassed the hospital staff.

The weekend nurses didn't know what the doctors had planned, there were no orders, blah blah blah. A doctor Holly had never seen before came in and looked her over, asked a couple of questions, then left. Dad gave up and sat reading a paper in Holly's guest chair while Mom came and went, giving them updates on her battle for Holly's freedom.

It was raining. The mountains were shrouded in mist. Holly stared out at them, quietly aching.

A nurse came in with a covered plate on a tray. “Well, we don't know yet about your release, so I brought you some lunch,” she said cheerily, pulling the bedside table over Holly's lap.

Was it that late? For the hundredth time, Holly looked around for a clock.

“What time is it?”

“Almost eleven-thirty,” said the nurse. “Don't worry, your paperwork should be done soon.”

She smiled, then hustled out. Pushing the lunch away, Holly opened the drawer of her nightstand and poked around in it.

“What do you need, sweetie?” Dad asked.

“My cell phone. Is it here?”

“It was damaged, honey. The water got to it.”

Water in the spring. White light explosion.

“Oh.”

“We got you a new one. It's at home. I'm afraid they couldn't get your phone list off the old one.”

“That's OK.”

Maybe she didn't need a phone any more. She didn't really want to talk to anyone. She'd just wanted it for the clock. A wristwatch would be cheaper.

She leaned back and closed her eyes. After a minute she heard the newspaper crinkle.

“I went up to the spring,” Dad said softly. “Well, to where it was.”

Holly opened her eyes. He was leaning toward her in his chair, looking worried.

“I tried to find your friend, but he wasn't anywhere around. I searched for half an hour.”

She pressed her lips together, fighting for calm. “Thanks for trying.”

“I looked for an address, but I guess he doesn't have one.”

“No. I think he's gone.”

Dad's frown deepened. “Holly, did he hurt you?”

“No.”

She shook her head, then sniffed. Dad looked doubtful.

“He wasn't there,” she said. “Ask those construction guys.”

“I did, actually.” He took her hand. “Pretty rotten of him to make up to you and then disappear.”

“I don't think he had a choice.”

“You're not telling me everything, are you?”

She sighed and closed her eyes. “You wouldn't believe me if I did.”

“Success!”

Mom's voice. Holly looked up and saw her mother in the doorway, clutching a piece of paper.

“We did it! You're being released. They'll have a wheelchair here in ten minutes, they said.”

Holly frowned. “Wheelchair?”

“Just a precaution, honey. So you don't stumble on the way out. Is that your lunch? You should eat it while you can.”

“Not hungry.”

Mom came to the bedside and lifted the lid from the lunch plate. The smell of macaroni and cheese escaped.

“Looks good. Humor me, OK? Just a couple of bites.”

Holly's stomach protested, but she took a bite. A bright green tree trunk of broccoli lay beside the pasta on the plate. She glowered at it.

Mom chattered about her adventures in hospital bureaucracy while she gathered up Holly's things into a plastic bag. Dad asked her questions, letting Holly off the hook. She was grateful for that. She knew he was trying to take care of her. They both were.

Like Ohlan.

“Do you want to take all your flowers, honey? If you leave any they'll give them to charity cases.”

“I want the ones from you guys and the gang, and Jen's plant. And the ones from Mr. Drover.”

“He's a nice man. He brought those himself while you were still unconscious. He was very concerned, and apologized for your getting hurt.”

“Not his fault.”

“No, of course not. But he was very gracious.”

Mom pulled the cards off the flowers from the school and the grandparents, and stuck them in the bag. She sent Dad off to fetch the car with the flowers from the folks and from Mad's roommates. Holly had meant to leave those behind, but Mom had apparently assumed “you guys” meant the whole family.

Mom helped Holly change into her clothes. She used the bathroom and got a look at herself in the mirror—pretty hagged. Her eyes had dark circles underneath, her hair was dirty, and the big bandage on her forehead looked dorky.

The wheelchair arrived, and Holly was tenderly helped into it by two nurses while Mom hovered and clucked. With Jen's plant and Mr. Drover's flowers on her lap, she rode down to the front entrance, where Dad was waiting with the car.

“Wait,” said one of the nurses as they came to the doorway. “I'll get an umbrella.”

“Thanks, but I won't melt.”

Holly smiled to show her appreciation, but she didn't want any more delays. She was ready to be gone.

Mom insisted that Holly ride in the front seat. The back was full of flowers, and Mom squeezed in with them, holding Mr. Drover's carnations on her lap.

Holly paused to look up at the rain. She loved rain, loved its smell and the feel of it on her face. Loved the memory of it falling all around while Ohlan kept her dry.

Dad leaned toward her from the driver's seat. “You OK, honey?”

“Yeah.”

She got in, waved at the nurse who had retreated to the entrance with the wheelchair, and closed the door. Dad gently stepped on the gas, gliding away from the curb. He drove home so sedately she was tempted to snark about it, but she kept her mouth shut.

Madison came out to help bring in the flowers, greeting Holly with a grin. “Hey, kiddo! Welcome home!”

Holly smiled back unenthusiastically and carried Jen's plant to her room. She put it on the windowsill while her family loaded her desk with the flower arrangements.

“Smells like a florist's in here,” Mad said, looking around the room.

“Shall I fix you some lunch?” Mom offered.

Holly shook her head and sat on her bed. “No thanks. Think I'll nap a bit. Hard to sleep in the hospital.”

“Sure, honey.”

Mom stood there wearing a worried smile. Dad carried in the bag of Holly's miscellany and her backpack, setting both on the floor by the desk. He opened the drawer and took out Holly's scissors.

“Here. You don't need that any more.” Reaching for her wrist, he snipped off the hospital bracelet. “Welcome home.”

“Thanks.” They were all staring at her again. “Thanks for everything, guys.”

They took the hint and shuffled out. Mom hung back, looking like she wanted to ask something, but in the end she just smiled and left, gently pulling the door closed.

Holly sighed with relief. Alone at last.

She lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling. In the daylight she could just make out the little star stickers, slightly yellow-green against the white. She'd always loved her night sky, but it seemed kind of silly and childish now.

She closed her eyes. Nothing appealed to her now. She had no enthusiasm for anything. She wished she could go to sleep and never wake up. She might even have taken steps to arrange that, except that Ohlan had asked her not to.

Why? What good was the world if he was gone?

He wanted her to try other kinds of love, but she knew nothing else could compete. He was gone, but she still loved him more than anything. And it hurt.

~

The rest of the weekend they all pretended everything was normal. Watched movies on TV after dinner Saturday night, had French toast for Sunday breakfast. Holly retreated to her room afterward, and even that was normal. She thought about doing her chores, but she didn't want to. Instead, she slept.

Midway through the morning Madison knocked on her door. Holly knew her sister's sharp, impatient rap. She didn't answer, hoping Mad would assume she was asleep and go away.

Didn't work. More rapping ensued.

Holly sat up and her forehead gave a throb that made her wince. Cross, she shuffled to the door and opened it.

“What?”

“I brought you some thank-you notes.” Madison held out a small box of cards.

Holly frowned. “What for?”

“So you can send them to the people who sent you flowers.”

Holly sighed. Whatever.

“Thanks.” She took the box and moved to close the door, but Mad blocked it.

“I'll help. I can do the envelopes.”

“I don't want to do it right now.”

“I know. You still should, though. If you do it now they'll go out in tomorrow's mail, and you won't have to worry about it any more.”

“I'm not worried about it.”

Mad grinned. “Yeah, I got that impression. Come on, kiddo. It'll be good for you.”

A knot of anger tightened in Holly's chest. “What do you care?”

“Huh?”

“What do you care what's good for me? Why do you keep butting into my life? Why don't you just concentrate on managing your own?”

She was aware that her voice was rising. This wasn't good; it would bring the folks down on her, but she didn't seem able to stop.

Mad looked angry too, but did a better job of controlling her voice. “Of course I care. I'm your sister.”

“Bullshit. You couldn't wait to go to school and get away from me. You couldn't stand the thought that I might follow you to CU.”

“Holly—“

“So just quit pretending that you care when all you really want is to push me around!”

“I'm not pushing you around. I'm just trying to keep you out of trouble. God knows you make it hard enough, with your magic fantasy lovers and your homeless boyfriends!”

Holly threw the box of cards on the floor. “They were the same person!”

That shut Mad up, but not in a good way. She shook her head, and the look on her face said she was thinking Holly had lost it.

Worse, Mom was standing in the hall behind Mad. Holly hadn't noticed her arrive. She looked ready to cry.

The cards had spilled out of the box. Holly gave them a kick, scattering them into the hall. That startled Mad, who stepped back, and Holly slammed her bedroom door shut and turned her back to it.

For a moment she just stood there fuming, then in two steps she dove onto her bed and clutched her pillow, sobbing silently into it. She cried until she was wrung out, and fell asleep on her damp pillow.

When she woke, house was silent. She sat up, rubbing crusty eyes, then went out to the kitchen for something to drink. Three cans of ginger ale left; she poured one over ice in a tall blue glass, and walked out to the back patio.

Mom was digging in the flower beds. Holly almost went back in the house, then decided that would be chickening out. She sat on the hanging swing. Mom looked up when it creaked, then went back to gardening.

Holly watched her mother clear out dead leaves from among the flowers that were still blooming. Chrysanthemums were going; white, yellow, and purple. Bees buzzed lazily around the roses and the honeysuckle vine that crawled up a trellis.

When she reached the end of the flower bed Mom got up and carried her tools over to the patio table. She pulled off her gloves and hat and left them there, then came over to the swing.

“May I join you?”

Holly shrugged. “Sure.”

Mom sat beside her and brushed a wisp of hair out of her face. She looked tired. She smelled like earth and green growing things.

Holly offered her glass. “Want some?”

“No, thanks, honey. I'll go in and get something in a minute.”

Holly sipped some more. The silence stretched. She felt bad about losing her temper, but she didn't want to bring it up.

“Feeling better?” Mom asked finally.

“Yeah. Sorry I yelled.”

“It's Madison you should apologize to.”

“I know. She still here?”

“No, Dad's taking her to the airport. She has classes tomorrow.”

Holly was silent. She had classes, too. Maybe she'd get away with staying home for another week.

Eventually they'd expect her to go back to school, though. She'd have to, or they'd be all over her case. She'd skim through, she decided. Easier than fighting about it.

And then what? College? Job? Sleep under a bridge? She couldn't bring herself to care.