Miracle in the Mist (27 page)

***

She'd just left the art store after buying some extra paint to complete a picture she'd been working on for her sister, the first painting she'd done in years. Since it was Christmas Eve, she'd been lucky to catch them before they closed for the holiday. She stuffed her receipt into her pocket and hurried toward her car.

As she stepped to the snow-covered sidewalk, she noticed Dan's car across the street. He and Cathy were in the front seat. Even from where she stood, she could hear Dan's harsh voice berating her sister.

"How did you ever live this long? I sent you to buy a simple light bulb, and you can't even do that. Stupid bitch!" He swung his arm, and Carrie heard the distinct sound of his fist connecting with Cathy's face.

Before Carrie could react, he'd put the car in gear and sped off down the street. Fuming, Carrie jumped in her car, swung it in a wide U-turn, and followed them, determined that this time she'd get her sister to leave that bastard. She didn't have to guess where they were going. He was taking her home to their isolated farmhouse, where no one could see or interfere, and he could beat and batter her to his heart's content.

God, Carrie could scream when she thought of all the times she'd begged Cathy to leave him, and all her sister had been able to do was make excuses for the creep. Over and over she'd allowed Cathy to talk her out of calling the police because she was terrified of what he'd do to Cathy if the cops didn't cuff him and drag his sorry ass off to jail on the spot.

Carrie cursed and slammed her fist against the steering wheel. "Cathy, why didn't you let me stop him? Why?"

Thankful that the predicted blizzard had not yet moved in and that the smattering of snow that had fallen so far had not collected on the roads to slow her progress, Carrie floored the gas pedal. She pulled into the driveway of the farmhouse just as the front door was closing behind her sister and her husband. Wasting no time, she turned off the car and jumped out, not even taking the keys from the ignition.

She'd only run a few steps when she hit a patch of ice and went down, smacking her forehead on the cement walkway. For a moment she saw stars, then she blinked, and her vision cleared. She tried to push herself to her feet, but her head spun dizzily and her stomach heaved. She took a deep breath and gained some semblance of balance, then slowly struggled to her feet. Carrie could hear him shouting before she was fully erect.

"Don't stand there and lie to me. They must have had that bulb. You were just too lazy or too stupid to find it." The sound of flesh hitting flesh, followed by the crash of breaking furniture, exploded into the night. "Get up! Get the hell up, bitch!" Again the sound of flesh hitting flesh was followed by screams.

"Don't… Dan. Please don't… hit me any more." Her sister's pain-filled voice rang out.

"I'll do whatever I damned well please." Again the sound of Dan's fist connecting with what Carrie assumed was Cathy's face. "I… will… hit… you… and… hit… you all I want. Maybe then you'll… get… some… smarts." Each word was punctuated by the muffled crunch of bone on bone.

This time Cathy didn't protest. Carrie's blood ran cold. Was it because she thought better of it and wasn't saying anything to anger him further? Or was it because she couldn't speak?

Ignoring the light-headedness that held her in its grasp, Carrie dashed up the steps, her heartbeat sounding in her ears, not knowing what she'd do when she got inside and was finally confronting Dan. All she knew was that this time he wasn't going to get away with it.

Carrie turned the knob, but the door was locked. Fisting her hand, she pounded on the wood. "You son of a bitch, open this door and let me in!"

"Go to hell!" he yelled back. "For once in your life, mind your own fucking business."

"My sister
is
my business, you bastard!" She pounded harder. "Open it!"

But it remained locked. Inside, she could hear the sound of scurrying footsteps. Fearful that he would attack Cathy because Carrie was trying to interfere, she renewed her efforts to get in, but to no avail. She looked around and saw a stack of fresh-cut firewood in a wrought-iron rack. Grabbing one of the logs, she smashed a living-room window, pushed the curtain aside, and climbed through.

Log held high, she was prepared to smash it against Dan's skull if he came after her or her sister. Quickly, she scanned the room, but Dan was nowhere to be seen. The freaking coward had run. Then she looked down and froze. The log fell from her limp fingers and hit the floor with a hollow
thunk
.

"Oh my God, Cathy!"

On the floor, her blood seeping into the beige carpet, lay Cathy. Blood was everywhere. Cathy's white blouse was smeared with it, as were the chair beside her, the wall behind her, and the floor beneath her. Her face was bloodied almost beyond recognition.

Carrie's knees went weak. The bastard had killed her sister. Tears stung her eyes, and she didn't even try to hold them back. They rolled in silent misery down her cold cheeks. Her head spun, and her vision wavered between clear and fuzzy. Nausea threatened. She leaned against the window frame searching for the strength to go to her sister.

Why hadn't she called the police despite Cathy's pleas not to? Why? Why? My God, her sister was dead, and it was as much her fault as it was Dan's. Sobs tore from her chest in wrenching anguish. Forcing herself to get control, she took a deep breath and managed to bring her vision into focus again. The cut she'd sustained on the sidewalk dripped blood down her cheek and onto her blouse.

Then she heard it. Cathy moaned faintly. Carrie ran to her and dropped to her knees. She scooped her sister into her arms and cradled her battered face against her chest. Cathy was alive, but barely breathing. If she didn't get help and fast, Cathy would surely die.

"It's okay, kiddo. Hang on. I'll get help. Hang on."

Carefully, she laid her sister back on the floor, then dashed for the phone. She picked up the receiver. No dial tone. Looking down, she saw the raw end of the wire lying on the floor. The son of a bitch had ripped it from the wall to make sure she couldn't call the cops on him.

Carrie glanced back at her sister's crumpled body. She had to get help. The sound of a car engine coming to life in the driveway drew her attention. Fighting dizziness, she raced to the window in time to see Dan pull to a stop beside her Toyota, jump out, and open her car door. A few seconds later, he emerged from the front seat, looked up to where she stood in the window, waved her keys and her cell phone at her, grinned, and then hopped back in his vehicle and careened out of the driveway.

"Damn you!" she screamed impotently after him. She smacked her hand on the windowsill. Dan had marooned them out here in the wilderness without any way to get help. "Bastard!" she yelled after his fading taillights.

Berating Dan wasn't going to help Cathy. But what was she going to do? Her sister was bleeding to death, with God only knew what other injuries, and she had no way to contact anyone at all. Without a vehicle or a phone, she would have to walk to town for help.

After spreading the afghan from the couch over Cathy and placing a throw pillow beneath her head, she softly kissed the one small spot above her sister's left eyebrow that wasn't smeared with blood. "I have to go for help, Cathy. I'll be back as soon as I can. Hang on. Please, baby, hang on."

Reluctantly and with one last look at her sister, Carrie stepped into the cold, dark night and started walking. By now the storm had gained power, and snow was coming down in blowing sheets of opaque white. She had trouble staying on the road. Several times, she slipped off the side and into the ditch. Clawing her way back to the paved surface, she pushed herself on.

Fatigue and dizziness plagued her every step until she wasn't sure she could go on. The falls she had taken in the snow had soaked her clothing, and the freezing cold had seeped into her body, chilling every part of her. She shivered and pulled her coat tighter around her. Her steps dragged, slowing her progress. Dread filled her. She wasn't going to make it. Cathy would die on her own living-room floor, and Carrie would die out here on this frozen landscape. And that brutal bastard who had caused it all would go free.

"Please, someone, help me. Help me." Her sobbing plea was muffled by the falling snow. Even if someone had been around, they never would have heard her. Hopelessness overwhelmed her. Slowly, she sank to her knees in the snow.

Her head throbbed painfully, and her eyes wouldn't focus. Blackness began to gather around the outer fringes of her peripheral vision. Unwilling to give up, she pushed herself to her feet again and forced herself forward, stumbling blindly, falling time after time and dragging herself back to her feet. Her strength was quickly ebbing.

She stumbled and ended up face-first in the snow. Using the last bit of her strength, she pulled herself to her knees. Through her blurred vision, she thought she saw a man in a long, white robe coming toward her. Her muddled brain rationalized that she'd died, and this was the angel of death coming to claim her.

Chapter 23

Carrie's first thought, when she found herself back in Clara's cottage bedroom, was of her sister, Cathy. Was she still alive? If so, how could she save her? Carrie's second thought was that not only was she alive, but also she was now finally free to leave Renaissance, get Cathy help, and find Frank. She sprang from the bed and hurried down the ladder as fast as she could.

As Clara moved away from the loom, she turned to Carrie, a knowing smile curling her lips. "It's all come back, hasn't it?"

Carrie nodded. "But my sister… Is she… " She swallowed hard to rid her throat of the large lump of emotion suddenly lodged there. "It's been so long—"

"Time is relative, my child. Don't be too eager to break out your mourning garb."

Carrie felt a surge of hope. "Does that mean Cathy is still alive?" But Clara busied herself by folding the length of recently woven cloth, as if she hadn't heard Carrie at all. "Clara? Is Cathy still alive?" she asked, knowing in her gut that this was yet another of those questions that would go unanswered.

Before Clara could answer,
if
she had even been at all inclined to do so, a knock sounded on the door, and the Weaver hurried to open it. Outlined in the doorway by the sunlight pouring in behind him was Emanuel, flanked by Alvin and Ellie. Over his shoulder, Carrie could see a thin veil of mist gathering in the village.

At the sight of the Elder, hope rose anew. Emanuel would know about Cathy. He must. She immediately went to the village Elder. "My sister? Is she—"

Emanuel held up his hand. "All your remaining questions will be answered in good time, my dear. But you must be patient. It will happen as it is meant to." He smiled a greeting at Clara, and then took his customary seat at the table. Ellie and Alvin did likewise. "Join us, Carrie, please," he motioned to the empty chair beside Ellie.

Anxious and edgy, Carrie sat. She folded her shaking hands in her lap and gripped them tight to still their trembling. Impatiently, she glanced from one person to another, waiting for someone to speak.

"My child," Emanuel finally said, "it's time for you to leave us."

The mist
!

Carrie glanced toward the window and could see that what had been little more than a haze before had thickened appreciably in the brief time since Emanuel had entered the cottage. The Transition that Clara had told her would mark her departure from here was beginning. She was really leaving. Thoughts of what she'd find outside Renaissance made apprehension swell inside her.

Please be alive
, she begged Cathy silently.
Please don't die. I'm coming
.

Emanuel patted her hand. "You cannot alter destiny."

"What does that mean?" Carrie's body turned cold as ice. His elusive answer could mean only one thing. "Is Cathy already dead?" When he didn't reply, her anger rose to the surface. "Dammit, answer me. Is my sister alive?"

He smiled kindly. "Faith and trust, my child, faith and trust."

His calmness infuriated Carrie. "Why can't you people just answer a simple question? My sister may be dying or already dead. Can't one of you, for once, talk without riddles and tell me what's happened to her?"

Her strident tones filled the little room. She glared at Emanuel, and at that moment, came as close as any time in her life, aside from her encounters with Dan, to throttling someone. Carrie clenched her fists under the table and bit her tongue to hang on to her control. She just wanted to know how Cathy was. Was that so hard to understand?

The Elder's kindly smile never wavered. That he continued to show so little emotion should have brought her temper to a dangerous boiling point. Instead, when he laid his hand on hers, calmness invaded her. She leaned back in the chair.

"As soon as the Transition is complete, Alvin and Ellie will escort you out of the village and back to Tarrytown." He glanced in the direction of the rapidly gathering mist outside the window. "It should be very soon."

The five of them went outside. Clara handed Carrie her coat and kissed her cheek. "Be happy, child."

Carrie smiled weakly, nodded, and then hugged the Weaver. "Thank you… for everything."

After Carrie had said her good-byes, Clara stood beside Emanuel and watched as the trio crossed the footbridge and disappeared into the mist.

She turned to Emanuel. "All's well that ends well," she said with a sigh. But he didn't reply. His face was creased in a deep, worried frown. "What is it? Her memory has returned, and she's ready to go into the outside world and face what she left behind. What troubles you?"

"Not all of her memory has returned. She has one more to face that could be more devastating to her than what she just learned about her sister." Emanuel began to walk slowly back to Clara's cottage.

She hurried to catch up. "I don't understand. You let her recall all the memories you removed with the amnesia."