Lord of Lightning (21 page)

He
was
gone, however, every trace of him. That couldn’t be denied. Sadness welled up inside her. One lonely tear shimmered, full of heartache as it caught on her lower lash. She felt as empty and abandoned as the room.

Moments later she stood at the window, staring out at the pristine morning. Sunlight filtered through the treetops, promising a warm and lazy summer day. There was no sign of yesterday’s violence, no sign of a raging magnetic storm. Life in Shady Tree went on, she thought. He had come and gone, leaving the place untouched. Only she had changed.

A sparrow hawk was perched on the porch railing, its head cocked oddly as it stared at her. There was something so personal about the bird’s scrutiny, Lise was reminded of Em’s claim that the spaceman had brought a dead bird to life. She’d dismissed it then as a figment of the child’s imagination. Now she didn’t know. Now anything seemed possible. Perhaps she and the curious little sparrow hawk had something in common. Perhaps they’d both been touched by lightning.

She was dressing to leave when she noticed what looked like a paper ID tag on the floor near the storeroom door. Thinking it might have been torn off Stephen’s equipment, she picked it up and read the scrawled numbers. They weren’t in any sequence or combination she recognized, but on the chance that it was something he’d lost or forgotten, she tucked the tag in her purse.

A short time later, as she drove off in her car, she glanced at her watch and saw that it had stopped. The hands were frozen at midnight. Sadness gripped her again, squeezing her heart. She had forgotten to ask him how he did that—stopped watches.
Stopped time.
Now she would never have the chance.

“T
HIRTY-SIX BOTTLES OF
root beer on the wall! Thirty-six bottles of root beer—”

The windows of the old school bus rattled with the deafening enthusiasm of Abraham Lincoln’s fifth-grade class. The students were headed for the L.A. Sports Arena that bright summer morning to compete in the Southern California Junior Science Fair. Julie was stationed at the front of the bus, leading the boisterous bunch in song, while Lise sat at the back, keeping a watchful eye on things.

She winked as Em Baxter glanced over at her from across the aisle. The little girl’s odd behavior recently had forced Lise to set aside her own heartaches. Em had been quiet and listless all week, withdrawing into herself. Lise suspected it had something to do with Stephen’s leaving, but when she’d tried to talk to the child, Em had simply stonewalled. “He’ll come back,” she’d said. “And when he does, I’m going to ask him to show me how to make birds fly.”

Lise’s smile saddened. Em had such unwavering faith in the “spaceman” that Lise could hardly bear the thought of seeing her disappointed. She still hadn’t found a way to tell Em he wasn’t coming back. At the time she’d simply drawn the child into her arms and hugged her.

“
Twenty-five bottles of root beer on the wall—”

Her students’ high spirits reclaimed Lise’s attention, and by the time the noisy contingent had arrived at the Sports Arena, everyone’s attention was riveted on setting up their “Train of the Future.” Perhaps because there was so much at stake, the spirit of teamwork prevailed. A common cause does wonders, Lise thought, as she bent over the three-part informational display that would sit behind the railroad pike.

She felt a tug on the back pocket of her jeans as she mounted a “before” picture of the maglev. “What is it, Em?” she said, not bothering to look behind her. She knew Em’s preferred modus operandi by now.

“Do you think we’ll win. Miss Anderson?”

“Yes,” Lise said almost immediately. “I’m sure we will.” She set down the glue and turned to the little girl. Em’s gray eyes were wide with surprise, and Lise realized she’d surprised even herself. Normally she wouldn’t have risked raising the child’s hopes for fear of disappointment, but perhaps it was Em’s own faith that had prompted her. Every so often a strong dose of hope was necessary, she realized. Maybe believing was the only antidote to grim reality.

She drew Em over to see the display. “This is why I think we should win,” she said, detailing the features that made their maglev project unique among model trains. “And what’s more,” she added moments later, winding up her spiel, “in the real world, a maglev train would require less energy, produce no smog
and
relieve traffic congestion on the freeways.”

Em blinked. “I guess we can’t lose, huh?”

Lise nodded and sent the little girl off to help one of the volunteer mothers who was distributing midmorning juice and snacks.
Please don’t let me be wrong,
she thought.

The rest of the morning proceeded in the same spirit of impending triumph. Once Lise’s class had the maglev project set up and operational, she took her students on a tour of the other displays. There were several projects on computers, one on optical illusions, and one called “Motion of the Ocean” that was so brilliantly conceived Lise began to worry she’d overestimated their chances.

Lunch was a festive affair with an all-you-can-eat pizza buffet, ice-cream cake for dessert, and an ex-NASA astronaut who spoke to the children about the future of space exploration. His talk made Lise think of Stephen, and she was trying to shake off her melancholy mood when Julie rushed up.

“Lise, it’s Em!”

Julie was so shaken that Lise sprang to her feet to steady the girl. “What about Em?” she demanded, pulling Julie out of earshot of the children’s table.

“She felt sick and asked me to take her to the rest room.” Julie let out a moan of near anguish. “She vomited, Lise—blood, I think. She’s in terrible pain!”

By the time Lise burst into the rest room, she had reached a state of nerves that transcended hysteria. Under other circumstances she might have fallen apart at the sight of Em Baxter’s body crumpled on the restroom floor, but some higher signal in her brain told her to kneel, to take the child’s pulse.

“Julie, call an ambulance—
quickly.”
Lise said, pressing her fingers to the carotid artery in Em’s neck. The child’s pulse was faint and thready. She was unconscious, Lise realized. And burning up with fever. Food poisoning? Blood poisoning? Other possibilities assaulted Lise, even more horrific.

She wouldn’t allow herself to think the thought that flashed into her head. Em would be all right. The child had a spirit as abiding as the Olympic flame. The light in her solemn gray eyes was inextinguishable. Lise had Em’s destiny all mapped out, she realized. She was going to live to be one hundred and two—and maybe even teach school at Abraham Lincoln. She
would
be all right.

Lise was oblivious to the siren’s shrieks as she sat next to Em in the ambulance. She held the child’s hand tightly, trying to transfuse her with lifeblood, or vital energy, or whatever intangible thing it was that kept people alive.

The paramedics hadn’t been able to diagnose the child’s condition except to say that it was critical, so Lise was fighting an invisible enemy. Whatever malaise had gained a foothold in Em’s frail body, it was powerful and insidious. Her pulse was wildly erratic now—racing one moment, barely detectable the next. Despite the ice the paramedics had packed her in, her temperature was soaring.

“Come on, Em,
fight,”
Lise whispered.

Lise had always found it difficult to believe in the intangibles others took for granted, but she did believe in the sanctity of life. Em Baxter was not going to die.
Not today. Not this way.
The child represented something Lise couldn’t put into words. What had Stephen said about her? She was a mirror to life’s hope, to its—Lise had forgotten the rest of his remark, but it didn’t matter. He’d obviously meant that Em was special in someway. That she was protected.

Lise squeezed the child’s hand and thought she felt an answering pressure. The eerie calmness that had enveloped Lise fled. Her heart started beating wildly. “Em? Emily?” she said, squeezing again. Had the child actually responded? Lise’s own thundering excitement was hampering her ability to discern the subtle feedback she was looking for. She had to calm down!

“Emily?” Leaning closer, Lise saw a twitch of movement in the child’s mouth. Her lips parted slightly as though she were trying to say something.

“Dah...”

“What is it, Em?” Lise searched her memory for a connection as the child murmured the sound again. “What, Em? Your
doll
? Is that what you want? I have it right here.”

Grateful she’d remembered to bring the doll with her, Lise tucked it into the curve of the five-year-old’s arm. “There you go, sweetheart.”

The child stirred slightly, her eyelids quivering.

“It’s okay, Em,” Lise said as the child’s eyes drooped open for a moment. “You’re going to be okay. Can you hear me? It’s Miss Anderson. I’m with you—”

A nerve twitched in Em’s cheek. She was struggling to stay conscious. “Is he ... here?” she asked.

“He?” Lise gripped the child’s hand tighter, realizing who she meant. “No, sweetheart, Stephen had to go away. He was called away, honey. Em?”

Em’s eyes had drifted shut again. “He’ll come back,” she whispered. “He’ll fix me ... like he fixed Elizabeth.”

Lise swallowed against something hot and acrid in her throat.

A moment later the ambulance came to a halt, the back doors swung open to a blinding explosion of neon light, and paramedics swarmed inside. Emily’s hand was torn from hers, and Lise was pushed forcefully aside as the team lifted the little girl’s body to a gurney.

“Wait! Will she be all right?” Lise cried as they rolled the gurney out of the van.
“Please!
Let me go with her!”

Someone thrust Em’s doll into Lise’s hands. “Take it easy, ma’am,” one of the paramedics said. “Are you her mother?”

“No—her teacher.”

He directed Lise through the same doors they’d just wheeled the gurney. “Right through there, ma’am. They’ll want some information from you.”

Lise had finished with the admittance people and was in the hospital’s waiting area when Julie arrived with Danny Baxter.

“Where’s Em?” Danny said, going pale with fear as he took in Lise’s appearance. “Where is she, Miss Anderson? Is she all right?”

Lise swept back damp hair from her forehead aware that she must look frightening. “She’ll be fine, Danny, just fine. They’re taking care of her right now. They’ll let us know as soon as they have something to report.”

Lise settled Danny in a chair and caught Julie’s eye, indicating with a nod of her head that she wanted to talk to her alone. Once they were in the hallway, Lise began a series of hushed, rapid-fire instructions.

“Call Em and Danny’s mother, Julie, and tell her what’s happened. Be careful not to frighten her—and let her know that I’m here with Em. Then you go back to the fair and round up the kids. You and the volunteer mothers will have to be in charge of getting them home safely. And take Danny with you. He’s frightened out of his mind, and he’s much too young to be stranded here in this hospital.”

She patted Julie’s arm and forced what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Are you okay, sport? Can you handle all that?”

“Hey—I’m fine, teach—but
you’ve
looked better.” Julie drilled her with a stare. “How is Em, really? And none of that ‘she’s fine’ stuff. Tell me the truth.”

Lise fought to keep her voice steady. “Her condition is critical. They don’t know what’s wrong yet.”

“Ms. Anderson?”

Both Lise and Julie turned as a young doctor rushed up. “Ms. Anderson, the little girl we just admitted to Emergency has a suppurating appendix. She’s going to require immediate surgery. They’re prepping her now. Are you a relative?”

“No, but I’ve given your admittance people her mother’s name. They’re trying to contact her now.”

The doctor wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow. “I’m going to need some background,” he said. “Do you know anything about the child’s medical history? Has she ever exhibited symptoms of nausea, vomiting, or abdominal pain before?”

Lise was about to say no when she remembered the day she’d gone to the Baxter house and found Em sick in bed with flu symptoms. Even the doctor she’d called had assured her Em would be fine with some bed rest. Everything
had
indicated the flu, Lise told herself. She had handled it responsibly. And yet the guilt that flashed through her was nearly immobilizing. If she’d taken Em in for a checkup that day or told her mother she needed one, if she’d paid closer attention to her since, maybe none of this would have happened!

Julie stepped forward. “Is Em going to be all right?” she asked.

The doctor addressed himself to Lise. “The child’s condition is critical, Ms. Anderson. There are symptoms of peritonitis. We’re doing everything we can.”

“Peritonitis?” The word splintered the shell of calm Lise had built around herself.
We’re doing everything we can.
She knew what that meant. It meant there was damn little they
could
do.

Somehow she managed to answer the rest of the doctor’s questions, and then she sank to a chair. Julie crouched next to her as the doctor left.

“Lise—now don’t
you
fall apart!” Julie said fiercely. “Em’s going to need you.”

“I’m all right.” She waved Julie away. “You go, take Danny.”

“No way. I’m staying until you snap out of this. If you’re blaming yourself, Lise, I want you to stop it right now. Stop this craziness, Lise! Do you hear me?”

Lise shook her head. Julie’s words were as garbled and meaningless as a foreign language. She couldn’t collect her thoughts. She couldn’t stop shaking inside. Seconds flew by before she could meet her teaching assistant’s troubled gaze. “She asked for him, Julie. She believes he can fix her the way he did her doll.”

“What do you mean? Em asked for someone? Who?”

“Stephen. The spaceman.”

“The spaceman?” Julie sprang to her feet. “For heaven’s sake, Lise—
call
him! Get him over here!”

Lise shook her head helplessly. “I don’t know where to reach him.”

Julie scanned the hall and pointed to a phone booth. “Come on!” she cried. “We’ve got to reach him! It doesn’t matter whether he can really fix Em or not. She
believes
he can.”