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  “The Blethen House.”

  Sam pulled down the muddy driveway. “Hmm, this is a little worse than I thought.” He tapped the steering wheel then pulled onto the road. “So, how long have you known Karen?”

  “A little over a year and a half,” MJ said, staring out the window.

  “You met in England?”

  “Yep. At the campus library.”

  “Library,” Sam repeated.

  MJ looked over at him. “How about you and Elle? How did you meet?”

  Sam was quiet. “You don’t know the story?”

  “Oh. Oh yeah, sorry, man.”

  “It wasn’t the best way to meet, but I’m glad we did, of course.”

  “Of course,” MJ said gruffly. He cleared his throat. “The whole thing is so uncanny. Merrick had a twin brother. Really weird.”

  Sam gave him a quick glance and then turned his attention back to the road. Most people saw it as Malcolm having a twin—Merrick was the surprise. “So, your flight is tomorrow morning?”

  “Yes. Bangor International Airport—10 a.m.”

  “You came all this way to see Karen. That’s a pretty long trip.”

  MJ nodded. “Yep.”

  Sam cricked his neck. “Elle told me that you helped Karen through her breakup with Todd.”

  “Exactly.” MJ glanced sideways at him. “Yes, that’s exactly what I did.” He leaned forward, like he was looking for something in the rain.

  It seemed odd for MJ to be searching so intently for anything in that rain. Almost into town, Sam slowed down for a sharp corner. Difficult to maneuver on a good night, the heavy rain made it nearly impossible to see. Something thumped his side, and then suddenly, MJ’s hand shot to the wheel, and he pulled it hard to the right.

  “Look out,” MJ yelled. The jeep careened off the road and rolled over several times, before it came to a sudden stop, upside down, against a tree.

  Three

  The Accident

  Elle fell asleep on the couch waiting for Sam to return. A loud rap sounded at the door. She glanced at the clock. Clutching her blanket to her chest, she stumbled across the floor, barely aware of her grandmother’s bedroom door opening. “Did you forget your key, Sam?”

  Even though Sam didn’t live there, he did have a key. When he hadn’t returned from taking MJ to the hotel, she figured he must’ve decided to stay at his cabin, instead of making the long drive around the lake to Grammie Gwen’s. But now, the loud knocking meant something more than she could fathom. “Sam?” she asked through the door.

  “It’s me, John.”

  She opened the door. “What are you doing here at this hour?” John was dressed in his police uniform. This was an official visit. She couldn’t move—couldn’t breathe. Grandpa Joe came up next to her and put his arm around her shoulder. He led her to the table and helped her sit down.

  Elle clung to his arm. Her voice shook. “Why’s he here, Grandpa?”

  Grammie Gwen came out of her room. She wrapped a robe around her nightgown. Her worried eyes fell on the sheriff. “What is it?”

  John shook his head. “Sam . . . his jeep . . .” He couldn’t go on.

  Elle’s heart beat fast. She trembled vehemently. “No. No. No!”

  John hurried to her side. “I wish I had better news. He’s not dead, Elle, but he’s not responsive either.”

  “Not responsive?” Elle looked from one face to the next, all reflecting her feelings of shock and despair. “What happened?”

  Karen came down the steps. Her eyebrows furrowed when she caught sight of the sheriff. “What’s wrong?”

  John pulled out a chair beside Elle. “Sam went off the road and flipped the jeep several times.” Elle sobbed, and he placed his hand on her shoulder.

  “Oh, Elle.” Karen wrapped her arms around her friend.

  “He’s lucky he was in a jeep—that roll bar probably saved his life.”

  Karen shook her head. “What about MJ?”

  John gave her an odd look. “MJ? There wasn’t anybody in the jeep, but Sam.”

  “He must have been on the way back then,” Karen said. “He took MJ to the Blethen House.”

  “In that storm?”

  She nodded then went to the phone, in a few minutes she was back. “He’s at the hotel.”

  “I’m glad he wasn’t . . .” Elle couldn’t finish the sentence.

  Gwen looked at the rain beating against the windowpane. “At least that’s some good news,” she mumbled.

  “They’re taking Sam to EMMC,” John said. “I can take you there if you’d like.”

  “No, I think we’ll all be going,” Joe said.

  “Yes, of course, then, I’ll meet you there.” John opened the door to leave. “What I don’t get is why Sam wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, especially in a storm like that.”

  “No, that would never happen, John,” Elle said. “He never goes without a seatbelt, not even on these backroads at the lake.”

  “Well, either he was too flustered to snap one on, or it came undone when the jeep rolled, but he was clearly not wearing a seatbelt.”

  Elle pulled herself up from the table. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got to be with him.” She wavered and held on to the table. “But, what will we do about Sally? She can’t see . . . can’t see him . . .” She broke down in tears.

  “Go,” Karen said, taking her shaking hands. “I’ll stay here with Sally. Take all the time you need.”

  Gwen and Joe rushed back into the room. “Are you ready?”

  Elle glanced down at her clothes. She had fallen asleep fully clothed. “Yes, I’m ready, but I can’t . . . I can’t drive.”

  “I wasn’t expecting you to,” Joe said. “Come on.”

  Normally, she didn’t like to go places when Papa Joe drove, always finding excuses to drive herself. He tended to have a lead foot, but right now, she was counting on it. John waited for them, and as soon as they got in their car, the lights flashed on his police car.

  Papa Joe followed him close all the way to Bangor. At the hospital, Grammie Gwen looped her arm through Elle’s, and they rushed into the hospital.

  John hurried in beside them. “I called ahead.”

  A nurse met them at the entrance and guided them through the hospital. “Sam’s in surgery,” she said, taking them to a waiting room.

  Elle grabbed her arm. “Can you tell us anything?”

  The nurse studied her eyes. “He received a severe blow to his head. There’s bleeding in and around his brain.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

  Elle fell into the couch. She looked up at the nurse. “What does that mean?”

  “The doctors are trying to relieve the pressure on his brain. It’s swollen, as would be expected in a traumatic brain injury.”

  “Will he recover?”

  The nurse laid her hand on Elle’s arm. “I’ve seen it go either way.”

  “How long will the surgery last?”

  “That depends, but at least four hours. I’ll be back when there’s any news, and of course, the doctor will come to see you when the surgery is over.” She gave Elle a sad look, and then she left.

  Papa sat down beside Elle and pulled her near. “I’m sorry, Sweet Pea,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

  The cabin was dark. He flicked his cigarette butt to the ground and studied the windows—no movement came from within. Quietly ascending the steps, he made his way to the front door. The screen door creaked as he opened it. He placed his hand on the door knob and turned. It was unlocked. Inside, he made his way through the cabin until he found the little girl, sleeping in her bed. Standing over her, he studied her tiny features. A cool breeze blew across the room, billowing the curtains out, and Sally squirmed. She pulled the blanket tighter to her chin.

  A door opened from down the hallway and footsteps approached. The man searched the room and then slipped inside the closet. Leaving the door ajar, he watched with morbid pleasure.

  “Sally,” the woman said, sitti
ng on the edge of the bed. She wiped tears from her eyes then caressed the little girl’s forehead. Sally’s eyes fluttered open.

  She yawned. “Hi, Aunt Karen.” Pulling herself up on her elbows, she made a face. “Why are you in my bedroom?” And then as if her tiny brain figured it out, she said, “Oh, I know why. You must have bad dreams like my Mommy.” She patted the bed beside her. “You can sleep with me.”

  Karen lifted up the blanket and slipped in beside her. “What’s this?” Pulling a thin magazine out from under the covers, she smiled. “Richie Rich. I love this comic book.”

  Sally gave another yawn. “Me too. Richie is so rich.” She stretched her arms out. “He buys lots of stuff to get out of all the trouble that his mean cousin makes.”

  Karen nodded. “Mmm.”

  Sally snuggled next to her and turned the page. “Where’s my Mommy?” She looked up at Karen.

  “Oh, she went for a drive, but she’ll be back soon.” She kissed her on the forehead. “She’ll be back soon,” she whispered.

  It didn’t take long for the little girl to drift back to sleep. Karen laid there for a few minutes before closing her eyes. The closet door opened wider.

  Karen turned away from Sally and faced the opposite direction, but the man didn’t care if she saw him or not. In fact, he hoped she did. It would make her death all the sweeter.

  Suddenly, a car pulled down the driveway. Its lights shone briefly across the ceiling.

  Anger swelled within him—he was so close, so close. He clenched and unclenched his fists. It’s too late—for now. The car came to a stop, the whir of its engine fading to nothing. The man moved with stealth to the opened widow, pushed the screen out, and crawled through it.

  Startled by the sound of the screen hitting against the side of the house, Sally bolted upright in bed. “Mommy!”

  Four

  Unresponsive

  Elle clung to her grandfather. The doctor approached. He wasn’t smiling. Grammie moved to her other side. “How is he, doctor?”

  “I’m afraid, my news is not good.” He sat down in a chair opposite them. “Sam’s brain is swollen. We’ve done all that we can do, and now, we have to wait.” His lips pursed. “He’s in a prolonged state of unconsciousness—a coma. We’re not sure if he’ll come out of it.”

  Elle grabbed Grammie Gwen’s arm. “No.”

  Gwen straightened. “What are his chances?”

  He shrugged. “It’s hard telling, ma’am. He could return to his normal self, or be permanently disabled, or never regain consciousness at all.”

  Elle blinked back the tears. She locked onto the ‘could return to his normal self,’ the rest was too painful to consider. “Can I see him?”

  “In about an hour, but he won’t be able to hear you, or respond in any way.” The doctor glanced at Joe. “Perhaps you should all go home and get some rest.”

  Elle shook her head. “I won’t leave him.”

  The doctor stared at her. “I’ll have the nurse come get you when Sam is in his room. They’ll be transporting him to ICU as soon as he is out of the recovery room.”

  Almost an hour to the minute passed before an orderly came into the waiting room. “He’s ready, Miss Heard.” He gestured for them to follow and then led them to Sam’s private room. “Only two in at a time, please.”

  “You two go on,” Papa Joe said. He put his hand in the small of Gwen’s back and nudged her forward alongside Elle. “I’ll go in when you’re done.”

  Inside the room, the lights were dim. Sam was hooked up to an IV, a heart monitor, and oxygen. Wrapped in wide bandages, his head looked oversized and unnatural. His face was bruised and had lacerations running across both cheeks. Crusty with a thin rim of blood, his eyes were shut, as if sleeping.

  Elle ran to his side. She took his hand in hers and brought it to her lips, wetting it with her tears. Gwen stayed by the door, allowing her granddaughter the long moment she needed. After several seconds, she came to the other side of the bed. She leaned over and kissed Sam on the cheek, patted Elle’s hand on top of Sam’s, and then left the room.

  Papa came in. He spoke quietly. “Sam’s parents are on their way. Apparently, they were out at Sam’s cabin, when John found them.” He squeezed her shoulder.

  “Oh, Papa. What am I going to do?”

  He kissed her on the forehead. “We’re not going to give up, Sweetheart.”

  She looked up at her grandfather, the years showing in the worn creases on his face. He looked terribly tired. “Papa, it’s been a long night. Why don’t you guys go home for a bit? Get some sleep and come back later.”

  “We can’t leave you, dear.”

  She sighed. “You can’t get sick either, Papa.”

  Worry etched in his eyes, but Elle could tell it was for her, and not for himself. Finally, he sighed. “No, I guess not,” he said. He scratched his nose. “We won’t be long, Sweetheart.”

  Elle was alone. So very alone. Sam lay in the hospital bed in front of her, and yet, she knew it wasn’t him. If he didn’t recover, there would be no reason to go on. Her heart felt like it had died, and heavy despair settled over her.

  Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, a little girl cried out, “Mommy.” It jarred her senses and brought her back to reality. Squeezing her eyes shut, she thought of little Sally. She opened them and stared at Sam’s heart monitor. She’d have to get through this, for Sally’s sake. She lay her forehead against the cold, side rails of Sam’s bed and cried. Regaining her composure, she stepped out into the waiting room.

  A nurse sat at the nurse’s station. Elle approached her. “Excuse me. Do you have a newspaper?”

  “Would yesterday’s paper be okay?” The nurse handed her a copy.

  Back inside Sam’s room, Elle started on page one and read the news articles, just as if he was awake and listening. The doctor had said he couldn’t hear, but she wasn’t convinced the doctor knew everything. Maybe the sound of her voice could help pull Sam out of his coma.

  It was better than sitting there, wallowing in self-pity and worry. She had felt deep depression in her life—the crippling-want-to-die kind of despair—and she wasn’t going to let herself go there again. Sally needed her and so did Sam.

  Sam’s parents arrived. Louise was a wreck and barely able to talk. She rushed to her son and fell against the side rails. “Sammy. Oh, Sam!”

  Sam Sr. was quick at his wife’s side, his face resonating the shock of a parent seeing their child’s head wrapped in bandages and his face scraped and scarred.

  In tears, Louise hugged Elle and sobbed. “They said he flipped over in the rain and wasn’t wearing a seatbelt. That’s just, hogwash.” She shook her head, sobbing, in short sputters. “He always wears a seatbelt.”

  Sam Sr. wrapped his arm around his wife. He turned to Elle. “I’ll call Nancy and make arrangements to send Sally back, just until things are better.”

  “Yes,” Elle said.

  The room was quiet. No one said anything for several moments, and then Sam Sr. spoke. “He looks bad . . .” It came out soft, like a spoken thought he hadn’t meant to say. He glanced apologetically at Elle.

  She blinked back the tears. “Yes, he does look bad, but . . .” she paused, as she gathered the strength to continue, “he’s going to make it through this.”

  Karen sat up on her elbows. “What is it Sally?” She pulled her down beside her.

  “I heard something,” Sally said. Footsteps sounded on the stairs. “Oh, maybe it’s my Mommy.”

  Karen doubted that—hoped that it wasn’t. There was only one reason that Elle would come home from the hospital. She swung her legs off the bed. “I’ll go see.” She stepped out into the hallway.

  Grammie Gwen held on to the handrail and ascended the steps like each step pained her.

  “Oh my,” Karen said, sucking in a breath. Sticking her head back into Sally’s room, she whispered, “It’s your grandparents. Go back to sleep.” She closed the door and met them in t
he hallway.

  Glancing at Sally’s door, Gwen gave her a warning look. “Let’s talk in your room.” She gestured toward the bedroom Karen was staying in.

  After telling Karen all they knew, and with mounting tears, Papa Joe wrapped his arms around his wife. “It’s almost morning. We’ve got to get some sleep.” He led Gwen downstairs to their bedroom.

  Karen was grief-stricken. She stumbled forward as she moved down the hallway. She stood beside Sally’s bedroom door, wondering how the little girl would take the devastating news when Elle told her. Stop it Karen. He’s going to be okay. She leaned her head against the door. Not wanting to disturb Sally, she decided to go back to her own room.

  The early morning sun seeped through her curtains. MJ must be ready to leave for the airport, Karen thought. She’d let him know about the accident after he got to LA. Oh, wait, he’ll have to call me. She only had his number at the university in England.

  It was still too early to bother Elle at the hospital, she’d call her later. Glancing out the window, she saw Elle’s grandparent’s car and knew they hadn’t left for the hospital yet. As late as they’d come home the night before, she was sure they wouldn’t be up for a while.

  She took her time in the shower, towel dried, and then dressed. “And now to check on Sally.” Her heart broke when she thought about how Sally would feel when she heard about her daddy. Well, she thought sadly, I won’t be the one to tell her. Running a brush through her tangled hair, she opened Sally’s bedroom door.

  The bed was empty. “Sally, where are you?” She checked the bathroom and then called out to her again. Going down the steps, Karen called out in a sing-songy voice, “Sally, oh Sally.” But, Sally didn’t answer.

  Knowing that the child spent most of her time outside, Karen opened the screen door and glanced at the porch. Sally’s homemade fairy house and two of the three fairies Karen had given her, were untouched. “Huh.”