I felt my flesh crawling, felt bile rise in my throat, felt the fear begin to wash through me, and yet I felt nothing at all. I was apart from her now and she couldn’t hurt me. She was coming closer, and she was saying my name over and over. Why did I still feel the fear so strongly?
I wanted to scream that I would kill her, but I couldn’t. Why in God’s name was she here with me? How could she still have the power to terrify me? It shouldn’t be happening. She should have been long gone by now, nothing more than a stupid memory. She was reaching out her hand to touch me as she spoke to Ford. I couldn’t stand it.
“Her eyes are open. Look at that. Her eyes are open!”
“They usually are,” Ford said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
I felt her fingers touch my shoulder. Her fingers were cold as death.
I screamed.
I whirled around so fast I nearly landed on my butt. My heart was pounding out of my chest. I was at Jilly’s side in an instant, shouting over my shoulder, “Laura, get the nurses, quick. And the doctors too. My God, hurry! Move it!”
I gathered Jilly up in my arms and pressed her tightly to me, trying to hold her steady. She was heaving against me, flailing her head from side to side, and she was screaming-screams that came out like low harsh bleating sounds. It sounded like someone was torturing her. She ran out of strength fast and slumped against me. I was relieved because I was afraid she would hurt herself. Very gently, I laid her back against the pillow. “Jilly,” I said as I leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. “No, don’t close your eyes. Keep looking at me. Stay awake. Don’t fall back asleep. You might not wake up again. Jilly, you’ve got to stay awake. Do you understand?”
“Yes, I can hear you, Ford,” she said to me. Her voice was wispy, thin as a piece of paper, almost too faint for me to hear.
I patted her cheek, stroking my fingers through her hair. She felt alive, solid, back with me. I felt ready to burst with relief. “Good.” I leaned closer. “Listen to me, Jilly. You were in a coma for four days. You’ve come out of it. You’ll be just fine now. Jilly, keep your eyes open. Blink at me. Yes, that’s good. Can you see me clearly?”
“Yes, Ford. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Her brain was all right, I was sure of it. Jilly was back with me, all of her. There was awareness in her eyes and she was staring hard at me, willing herself to be here, and she was. “You’re the only one who still calls me Ford,” I said, and kissed her cheek.
“You’ve never been Mac to me. I’m so thirsty.” I quickly poured water from the carafe into the small glass on the table beside her bed and held her up while she sipped. I wiped the water off her chin when she finished drinking. She cleared her throat, swallowed a couple of times, and said, “When you first walked through that door I couldn’t believe it. You were real, unlike all the others. To have you here was wonderful. I felt so alone.”
I wasn’t really surprised that she’d seen me, that she’d heard every word I’d said, seen the expressions on my face. Actually she could have told me what I’d eaten for breakfast, that she’d tasted it right along with me, and I wouldn’t have doubted her for a moment. I said only, “I was real? Unlike the others? What do you mean exactly?”
“Oh, yes,” she said, and managed a small smile. “You were very real. The others weren’t. Everyone else who came in here was a white shadowy thing, but not you, Ford, not you. You were all here. You touched my hand and I felt warmth. Thank you.”
I wasn’t surprised, but I did wonder if I hadn’t gone off the deep end after the car bomb in Tunisia. Psychic communication with my sister? I wondered what the FBI profilers would say about that.