The girl pulled a tissue out of the Kleenex dispenser that was built into the side of the tall metal nightstand. She blew her nose, used another tissue to daub at her eyes. She had slumped down in the bed; now she sat up straight, lifted her chin, squared her slender shoulders, and readjusted her covers. When she looked up at Carol, she was smiling again. “Sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what got into me. Being a crybaby isn’t going to solve anything. Anyway, you’re right. My folks will probably show up tomorrow, and everything’ll work out for the best. Look, Dr. Tracy, if you come to see me tomorrow—”
“I will .”
“If you do, promise not to bring me any more candy or magazines or anything. Okay? There’s no reason for you to spend your money like that. You’ve already done too much for me. Besides, the best thing you could do is just come. I mean, it’s nice to know someone outside the hospital cares about me. It’s nice to know I haven’t been lost or forgotten in here. Oh, sure, the nurses and the doctors are swell. They really are, and I’m grateful. They care about me, but it’s sort of their job to care. You know? So that’s not exactly the same thing, is it?” She laughed nervously. “Am I making sense?”
“I know exactly what you’re feeling,” Carol assured her. She was achingly aware of the girl’s profound loneliness, for she had been lonely and frightened when she was the same age, before Grace Mitowski had taken custody of her and had given her large measures of guidance and love.
She stayed with Jane until visiting hours were over. Before she left, she planted a motherly kiss on the girl’s forehead, and it seemed like a perfectly natural thing to do. A bond had formed between them in a surprisingly short time.
Outside, in the hospital parking lot, the sodium-vapor lights leached the true colors from the cars and made them all look yellowish.
The night was chilly. No rain had fallen during the afternoon or evening, but the air was heavy, damp. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and a new storm appeared to be on the way.
She sat for a moment behind the wheel of the VW, staring up at the third-floor window of the girl’s room.
“What a terrific kid,” she said aloud.
She felt that someone quite special had come unexpectedly into her life.
* * *
Near midnight, a river-cold wind came out of the west and made the trees dance. The starless, moonless, utterly lightless night pressed close around the house and seemed to Grace to be a living thing; it snuffled at the doors and windows.
Rain began to fall.
She went to bed as the hall clock was striking twelve, and twenty minutes later she began to drift over the edge of sleep as if she were a leaf borne by cool currents toward a great waterfall. On the brink, with only darkness churning under her, she heard movement in the bedroom and instantly came awake again.
A series of stealthy sounds. A soft scrape. A rattle that died even as it began. A silken rustle.
She sat up, heart quickening, and opened the nightstand drawer. With one hand she felt blindly for the .22 pistol she kept in the drawer, and with the other hand she groped silently for the lamp switch. She touched the gun and lamp at the same moment.
With light, the source of the noise was clearly visible. Ari was crouched atop the highboy, staring down at her, as if he had been about to spring onto the bed.
“What are you doing in here? You know the rules.”
He blinked but didn’t move. His muscles were bunched and taut; his fur was standing up on the back of his neck.
For sanitary reasons, she would allow him to climb neither onto the kitchen counters nor into her bed; generally, she kept the master bedroom door firmly shut, day and night, rather than tempt him. Already, housecleaning required extra hours each week because of him, for she was determined that the air should not contain even the slightest trace of cat odor; likewise, she was not about to subject her visitors to furniture covered with loose animal hairs. She loved Ari, and she thought him fine company, and for the most part she gave him the run of the house in spite of the extra work he caused her. But she was not prepared to live with cat hairs in her food or in her sheets.