Today, Eloise had thrown up blood and had seemed weaker and less responsive than ever before, yet she had some cogent moments. Eloise had no fear of her impending death, and if she was suffering, she never made it known. She had made her peace with God and she knew what her future held.
Now, trying to get comfortable on the couch, Kay wished for a light. She was so tired of the darkness. Kerosene was precious, so they conserved it. But she wouldn’t have minded having a night-light tonight. They had started allowing Sarah to keep a pillar candle burning in Deni’s bedroom so that if she woke during the night, she would remember where she was and wouldn’t panic. Hopefully, it would chase away the ghosts that plagued her each night. Perhaps Kay needed to bring one over here for herself at night.
As if in answer to her mind’s wanderings, a knock sounded on the front door. She jerked up and peered through the darkness. The knock was hard, determined, and she got up and pulled her robe on, held it at her throat and went to the front door to peer out the peephole. She couldn’t see more than the shadow of a man — a big one — a stark silhouette against the moonlight.
She backed away from the door, careful not to make a sound. What would any man want, banging on this door at night? It wasn’t Doug. He would have called through the door to keep from frightening her. No one else had any reason to be here.
Quickly, she ran up the stairs to get Jeff and tripped over the last step. Righting herself, she felt her way down the dark hallway.
“Jeff,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Jeff, get up!”
She heard the bedcovers rustling. “What is it, Mom?”
“Someone’s here,” she said. “Get your gun.”
She heard a few things drop in the darkness, but he turned on a flashlight then, chasing away the shadows. She breathed a sigh of relief at the light.
“Be quiet,” she said. “He’s knocking on the door. Should we answer it?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, Mom. What do you think?”
She took a few steps down the stairs. The man was still knocking. He wasn’t going away.
“I don’t know,” she said.
Jeff was wearing nothing but a T-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts, but he stepped down the stairs in his sock feet, holding that shotgun to the floor. Just before they reached the bottom, she heard something rattling in the door. Whoever it was, was trying to pick the lock!
Fear constricted her throat.
“He’s trying to break in,” she whispered. “Jeff, stay back.” She thought of taking the gun from him, aiming it at the door, and shooting before the person could make his way in, but suddenly the door flew open. Jeff raised his flashlight and his gun and Kay screamed.
“Don’t shoot!” The man’s hands flew to the air and he looked as startled to see them as they did him. “I’m Eloise’s son, Clark.”
It took a moment for the words to register … then slowly Kay wilted, her hand on her chest.
“Oh, Clark! We almost shot you!”
“Tell me about it,” he said. “I came as soon as I got that letter from one of the neighbors.”
“It was from me,” she cut in, extending her trembling hand. “I’m Kay Branning.”
He had the build of a linebacker. Hard to believe that small woman could have given birth to such a man.
“How’s my mother?”
Still breathing hard, she sat down and tried to catch her breath. “She’s very ill, but still alive.”
His voice cracked. “I’m sorry to come so late. I caught the last train into Crockett and I had to walk here. Since I’d never been here before, it took me a while to find the neighborhood. I’d have been here a lot earlier but I got lost.”
“It’s okay.” She closed the door behind him and locked it. “I’m glad you’re here. She’ll be so happy to see you.”
He wiped his eyes, and she saw that he was trembling. This wasn’t the response she had expected from the cold son of Eloise. Was this the same man who had bought his mother a house then never come to visit her in it?
“Can I get you anything? Some water?”
“In a minute.” There was a tremor in his voice. “First, I just need to see Mama.”
“Of course. She’s in here.” She took the flashlight from Jeff, conscious that he was following her with that shotgun pointed down, just in case the man turned on her.
They stepped into Eloise’s bedroom and shone the flashlight on her bed. Kay lit the candles on her bed table. Clark saw his small mother lying sick and scrawny on the bed, her eyes sunken in her sleep, her breathing hoarse and raspy. Tears flooded his eyes. He fell to his knees beside her bed and reached for her hand.
“Mama?”
Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up, trying to focus on him. Suddenly she realized who he was. “Clark?” she asked, as if she doubted her eyes.
“Yes, Mama, it’s me.”
“Oh, Clark.” She rose up with more energy than she’d had in days, and he pulled her into his arms.
Eloise started to cry. Kay hoped she wouldn’t get sick again and start throwing up. Mercifully, she didn’t.
As Eloise and Clark held each other, talking softly, Kay and Jeff retreated to the kitchen. She lit a lamp and busied herself finding something for Clark to eat. Jeff sat at the bar, his hair messed up, the shotgun on the table in front of him.
“It’s good that he came, isn’t it, Mom?”
She blinked back the mist in her eyes. “Yes, it is. It was probably Eloise’s dying wish to see her son.”
“But won’t it be sad for him to see her now when she’s about to die?”
“I think it’ll be healing,” she said, “to know that they were reconciled before she died. It would be really sad if she died and he’d never made an effort to see her. No one should have to live with that kind of guilt.”
“That’s bad.” He looked into the blackness just outside the kitchen. “Losing your mom, I mean.”
She nodded. “Makes me miss mine a lot. My dad too. I hope they’re doing okay.”
He got up, came around the bar, and hugged her. “I’m glad I’ve got you.”
She burst into tears then and pulled him into a tight hug. “I’m glad I’ve got you too, son. Thank you for being over here and protecting me and not complaining about it.”
“Sure, no problem.”
She found the loaf of bread someone had made for Eloise, and sawed off a piece. “So how are things with you and Mandy?”
“We broke up. She got mad at me for spending so much time rehearsing to play at the party. I figure if she doesn’t understand my music, who needs her?”
Kay tried to suppress her smile. “I’m sorry about that. Can you work it out?”
“Maybe, when things settle down.”
She breathed a laugh. “You think they ever will?”
“Probably not,” he said, “but it’s important, all the stuff we’re doing.”
“Yes, it is,” she said.
As Kay moved around the kitchen, she felt a sweet sense of peace. Jeff was growing up. And she liked what he was becoming.
T
HE MONSTERS WERE OUT IN FULL FORCE TONIGHT.
T
HEY
floated just above Sarah’s head, inhabiting the clothes that hung around her. Mama’s closet was black-dark and smelled of shoes, cigarette smoke, and sweat. She banged on the door, begging to be let out.
Where was Aaron? What if Mama forgot she’d locked her up? She’d have to stay in here with these monsters until she came back and freed her. She screamed for her mother and kicked the door.
Finally, it flew open and someone bent toward her. She scrambled to her feet, reaching for mercy. But it was only another monster, clawing her with long dirty fingernails …, and it had her mother’s eyes.
S
ARAH
’
S SCREAMING WOKE
D
ENI UP
. T
HE CANDLE THEY USED
as a night-light had flickered out, so she sat up and felt through the darkness for the little girl who had burrowed under the covers to the foot of the bed and was fighting to find her way out.
Beth sat up. “Where is she?”
“Under here.” Deni jerked the covers off the bed and grabbed the child. Sarah wrestled her at first, but Deni held her tight, whispering into her ear. “It’s okay, sweetie. Deni’s here. You’re with me, remember?”
The child stopped screaming, but she shivered against her. Deni sat down on the mattress and pulled Sarah into her lap. “That was a bad one, wasn’t it?”
Sarah sucked in a sob and nodded. Her thumb went to her mouth and she laid her head against Deni’s chest.
“She okay?”
She saw the shadow of Aaron standing in her doorway. “Yeah, I think she’s fine. Just another bad dream.”
“I can take her if you want me to.”
Deni snuggled her closer. “No, she’s fine. Just let her stay with me, okay?”
Aaron came closer to the bed and touched Sarah’s back. He watched her for a moment as the child’s eyes drifted shut. “I guess it’s okay. Wanna stay with Deni, Sarah?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Okay, good night.”
Deni watched the boy retreat to his room. She smiled at the step of faith he’d just taken. Trust was growing. He was realizing he could share the burden of his siblings’ well-being. She hoped he would sleep well with his distraught sister in Deni’s care. It was about time.
Maybe before too long, Aaron would have the opportunity to become a kid again.
She sat on the edge of the bed and rocked Sarah with her body, the way she’d seen Aaron doing. She started to sing “I Can Only Imagine” softly against her curls, and she felt Sarah relaxing against her. She pulled the girl into bed with her, curled up in her arms.
“Don’t leave me,” Sarah whispered.
“How could I ever leave my sleeping bunny?” Deni kissed her forehead and held her as she fell asleep.
T
HE INVESTIGATION INTO
J
ESSIE
’
S DEATH CONTINUED AS THEY
waited for word back from the Gatlin grandparents. Glad for a diversion, the family tried to help Beth with the props and set for her play. It turned into a family effort, with all four of the Gatlin kids fully involved.
Jeff was writing the songs, and he and his band of amateur musicians began rehearsing for the performance. Every kid in the neighborhood had joined in the production, and Beth made sure everyone had a part.
Deni was proud of her little sister.
It was three months into the outage, and soon the teachers in the neighborhood who had agreed to hold school for Oak Hollow would be convening. The children would have to spend three hours a day in school (their classrooms would be their teachers’ living rooms) after they had done the work they needed to do in their own homes and yards. Those teachers had offered Beth their full support in the production, in hope the children would bond before they were forced to sit in close quarters each day to learn. The play also served as a nice distraction for them, reminding them that they were kids and not just laborers in their parents’ “fields.”
Mark Green had built a stage for them to perform on out of an old flatbed trailer. Parents across the neighborhood got involved as well, making costumes and helping the children learn the songs.
When the day came for the big production, Doug, Jeff, and Mark rolled the stage and all the props down to the lake. Toy boxes and attics had been combed until everything they needed had magically materialized, with a little help and a little creativity.
When the big night came, the whole neighborhood turned out, just as they had hoped. Deni brought an extra lawn chair for Mark in case he had time to sit down after he got the stage and the backdrop into place. He had even fashioned a canopy on the stage and a curtain the kids could open and close. She had a feeling it would be used many more times before the outage was over.
This was one of the bright sides of the Pulses. Before the outage, Deni had only known her neighbors as faces behind windshields. Now they were becoming like family, and she enjoyed these gatherings. It helped with her loneliness.
Deni’s mind drifted to Craig, and that old misery surfaced again. She hadn’t heard a thing back from him since she’d mailed the breakup letter. There had been ample time for him to return something. It didn’t matter, she supposed. Maybe he hadn’t even had time to read her letter. Maybe it was sitting on his desk somewhere under a stack of congressional memos. Or maybe he’d read it right away, then forgotten what it said.
But her melancholy vanished when she caught sight of Mark. Since that kiss the other night, she hadn’t seen him much. Now she watched him, waiting for a reaction when he found her. Their eyes met, and his smile lit up his face. Her heart felt suddenly lighter.
He signaled to her, asking her if the chair next to her was free, and she nodded and crooked her finger for him to come. He wove his way through the crowd and sat next to her.
“I think we got everything together in time,” he said. “Man, I’m so glad it’s a great turnout. Your sister really deserves this. She’s worked so hard.”
“I know,” she said. “Who would have ever dreamed that Beth would be a playwright?”
“Not just a playwright,” he said, laughing. “A director and producer and casting director and costume maker and songwriter and ticket salesperson and promoter and publicist.”
“Funny thing about this outage,” she said. “It’s helped us each discover what we’re good at. I never knew Beth was destined for Broadway.”
“She didn’t even cast herself for any of the parts,” he said. “She’s perfectly happy to be behind the scenes. That says a lot about her maturity.”
“Yeah, she’s grown up a lot. Haven’t we all? The outage has taken a lot out of us, but some of us are better for it.”
Mark’s eyes grew introspective as he stared across the crowd. She wondered if he — with his father’s death — felt a net loss or net gain.
He leaned back in his chair and she noticed, once again, what amazing eyes he had. They’d always been a bright blue. Even in high school, he’d been known for his beautiful blue eyes. Now that he’d become a man and his face was as dark as tanned leather, they looked even paler, like deep ocean water. There was peace in them, in spite of the things he’d been through.
A ten-year-old kid came out from between the curtains and began playing a guitar that was almost too big for him. When he finished, the crowd erupted in cheers of adulation, and grinning from ear to ear, he pulled the curtain open and the play began.