The Waiting (8 page)

Come back to me. Please.
 

What Alice said next made his blood freeze. “Just before she went into the hospital, I saw her guardian angel. He was standing right here, watching over her. I know he made the machine go off to get my attention so I would call you. The doctor even said with port infections, every minute is critical.” She stared down at her daughter, beaming.
 

Brian’s mouth turned to sand. He managed to sputter, “What…exactly did you see?”

Louisa had stopped putting her things away and couldn’t break her gaze from Alice. Brian saw the look of mild concern on the nurse’s face.
 

Alice sighed. “He was an absolute angel. Such a beautiful boy. I even told Father McKenzie about him and he agreed that God has sent someone to watch over Cassie. I can’t tell you how much better I’ve felt about everything.”

She looked at Brian and Louisa but seemed to take no note of their stunned expressions. Instead, she said, “I’ll make coffee so you two can face your days properly.”

Alice sauntered into the kitchen, humming.
 

Brian had to grip the bedrail for support.
 

It isn’t just me!

His fingertips were numb and his heart felt like it was trying to gallop its way out of his chest. Louisa came to him.
 

“Brian, are you all right?”

He didn’t know what to say. He could only nod.
 

“Your mother-in-law needed hope, and her mind gave it to her. That’s a good thing. She already seems like a different woman. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Brian was about to tell her it
was
something to worry about when her phone went off. She excused herself and took the call in the living room.
 

She came back a minute later and slipped her bag over her shoulder. “I have an emergency with a patient in Yonkers. I’ll be back tomorrow night. Call me if you need anything.”

It took a herculean effort to smile and give a small wave. Alice continued to hum away in the kitchen and chirped a cheerful goodbye.
 

The boy was real! He wasn’t crazy after all.
 

But what the fuck was he? Was he a guardian angel, like Alice and her agree-to-anything-to-comfort-a-paying-parishioner priest said? If he was, why was Brian so afraid? Shouldn’t a guardian angel exude some sense of comfort?

All the boy did was confuse and scare the living hell out of him.
 

I can’t tell Alice that I’ve seen him. If I do, she’ll want to talk about it, and I can’t hide the fact that I disagree with her. Listen to her. For the first time in weeks, she’s happy, upbeat. You can’t lay waste to her hope.
 

So the secret was out, but it was still very much a secret for him and him alone.
 

A chill raced up his back.
 

Is he here now, watching me, watching Alice?

He looked around the room, at Cassandra lying peacefully, wondering if they were ever truly alone.

Chapter Sixteen

The whispering started three days later.
 

Brian was shaving. The little radio he’d put on the shelf by the medicine cabinet was tuned to sports talk radio.
 

His blade was mid-stroke, rising up through the foam from the base of his neck to his jawline when he heard a full but unintelligible sentence in a hushed voice. It came from his right, behind the closed shower curtain. The razor nicked his skin when he pivoted to see where the voice had come from.
 

“Ah, shit,” he winced, dropping the razor into the full sink.
 

Holding his finger to the cut on his neck, he grabbed the edge of the vinyl curtain and yanked it to the side.
 

Empty.
 

He found the volume knob on the radio and twisted until the sound was off.
 

He waited for the urgent murmuring to resume. Feeling too naked, exposed, he grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist.
 

The bathroom was silent, save for his labored breath.
 

Maybe it was something on the radio,
he thought.
You just picked up someone talking in the background and thought it was next to you.
 

First the phantom boy, who didn’t look like any ghost he’d ever heard of, and now this.
 

After five tense, noiseless minutes, he shook his head and fished around for his razor. He had only ten minutes to get his ass in the car, and zero time to freak himself out.
 

“Fucking house,” he said, wiping the remnants of shaving cream from his face.
 

Alice was proud of herself. When she’d asked Louisa the other day to go through every little detail on working the infusion pump and the drain, the information really stuck. She even did it all by herself, under Louisa’s supervision, without a hitch.
 

“You
can
teach an old dog new tricks,” she’d said to an approving Louisa.
 

Which was why she didn’t feel the urgent need to call Brian and the nurse when she heard Cassie’s alarms cry out. Alice was dusting the living room, thinking what to get at the supermarket later, when the first metallic wail went off.
 

She saw right away that the infusion rate on the pump was off kilter. It had been increased for some reason.
 

“Damn computers,” she said as she pressed the alarm button off and readjusted the setting.
 

She was startled when she heard the sheets rustling behind her. Cassandra tossed in her sleep, opened her eyes for a moment, then closed them slowly. Her lips parted and a tiny whimper came out.
 

“I’m here, honey, I’m here,” Alice said, taking her hand.
 

She stayed with Cassandra for the next hour, casting curious glances at the pump’s readout.
 

Guess I’ll have to wait until Brian gets home to get a few things from the store. Don’t want that pump changing its settings while I’m out.
 

At one point Cassandra drew in a sharp breath, and her hand lifted off the bed and wavered to her mouth. Her head turned to the side and her forehead creased with concern.
 

Alice smoothed her daughter’s hair and waited for Brian to return.
 

The Devils season opener gave Brian something light to focus on and forget things for a couple of hours. The TV was still in his bedroom and he settled in the chair next to Cassandra to watch the game.
 

Despite the changing of the port and the clearing of her infection, she didn’t seem to be getting any better. She’d been awake a few hours earlier and he’d tried to talk to her, but her eyes were like frozen, muddy puddles and there was no recognition of her husband.
 

When she was in the hospital, even Dr. Stepka had said he was surprised she wasn’t more awake, more lucid.
 

The sole positive Brian could see at this point was that the mysterious boy hadn’t made an appearance since Cassandra’s return from the hospital. It bothered him that he couldn’t stop from fixating on their child visitor, not when Cassandra’s life was in the balance. Maybe it was the
ghost’s
, for lack of a better word, own fixation with his wife that kept the wheels churning in his brain.
 

“Pad save and a beaut!” the Devil’s play-by-play man exclaimed. It shook Brian from his troubled thoughts.
 

“You should have seen that one, Cass. What a save,” he said.
 

They were both Devils fans, a pair of nonconformists living in Ranger territory. He tried every season to get to at least five or more games. Cassandra loved hockey, and even more so at the arena.
 

The score popped up on the screen. Devils 2—Flyers 1. Brian hit the mute button before the commercial started. If he couldn’t skip through them, he damn well didn’t need to hear them.
 

He picked up the empty popcorn bowl on the floor by his feet and got up to put it in the sink. Alice was upstairs reading, so the bottom floor was bathed in darkness. He padded across the floor and banged his knee on the edge of the kitchen table.
 

The voice came from directly behind him.
 

Brian whirled around and almost smacked his nose into the refrigerator.
 

Again, he couldn’t tell what had been said. It sounded like the voice of a woman, whispering a few short words.

Or a child.
 

Creeping dread prickled the base of Brian’s skull.
 

Was the boy here? All he had to do was peer around the edge of the kitchen doorway to see.
 

The thought of walking back to his bedroom made him lightheaded. He knew he’d have to get past the boy.
 

The floor creaked above and his shoulders hitched.
 

Has to be Alice moving in bed.

He took a hesitant step, pausing to listen for more barely audible mumbling. The hush of the house was overwhelming. It was like surfing; that moment when you lost your balance and tipped into the cold, wild spray. Until you broke the surface, you were smothered by the merciless ocean, helpless in its grip.

Brian sucked in a ragged breath.
 

I’ll just poke my head into the hallway and see if he’s there. If he is, I’ll deal with it.
 

His body wasn’t as gung-ho with the idea as his mind. It was an effort to take another step, to place a steadying hand on the kitchen counter, to move his back and neck those precious inches so he could see into the hallway.
 

A dark yet empty hall stretched out before him. The flickering blue light of the TV bled across its walls. There was no boy, no expectant specter or guardian angel.
 

“Jesus Christ,” Brian said, exhaling the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “This is getting ridiculous.”

A low, stressed moan came from the bedroom. It was Cassandra.
 

Brian forgot his fear and walked down the hallway to check on his wife.
 

Halfway through, something came close to his ear and whispered,
“Briiiiaaaaannnnn
.
”

His joints locked and the hairs on the back of his neck went rigid.
 

It was a boy’s voice, high, soft, almost playful.
 

He was either right by his side or behind him. This time, Brian couldn’t make himself look.
 

The sudden blaring of the TV made him jump back, breaking his paralysis. He ran the rest of the way into the bedroom and hit the mute button again. The remote control was where he’d left it, on his chair and out of Cassandra’s reach.
 

Brian’s insides burned hot with terror but his skin was cold and clammy. Fumbling with the remote, he turned and again saw nothing but an empty hallway. His breath came in short, pained gasps.
 

“Uhhhhh.”

Cassandra’s eyes were open, glazed and bloodshot, the once vibrant color faded, washed away by the sickness eating away at her and the drugs used to keep her comfortable and alive. Brian crouched over her and cupped the side of her face in his hand.
 

Her lips twitched into something resembling a smile.
 

“Hey you,” he said, his voice shaking. “Did you wake up to watch the Devils game with me?” He smiled and knew how terribly false it must look.
 

Cassandra turned her head, each inch seeming to take an eternity. Brian stroked her cheek, wiping a small tear that had leaked from the corner of her eye. When her gaze fell upon the open doorway, she sucked in a great lungful of air, closed her eyes, and fell back into limbo.
 

Still keeping his hand on her to let her know he was with her, Brian reached out with his foot and pulled the door closed, shutting out the hallway.
 

Chapter Seventeen

When Tony got the call from Mrs. Torre to take Brian out, he was only too happy to oblige. She answered the door and pulled him by the arm, closing the door quickly behind him.
 

“Brian’s in the back room with Cassie. Here’s fifty dollars,” she pressed the bills into his hand. “Take him to a bar and have some drinks. He needs to blow off some steam.”

Tony handed the money back to her. “You don’t have to pay me to take him to a bar. I’m just glad he’s finally ready to go out for a little bit, you know. He’s gotta take care of himself, too.”

Alice Torre bit her lower lip and scrunched her eyes. “The thing is, he doesn’t know I called you over. I want you to go in there and convince him to get out of the house for a bit.”