bad dreams when you were little.”
Lindsay shook her head. “I better just go back to sleep. I’ve got a science test in the morning.”
“We’ll leave the hall light on,” her father said.
Lindsay nodded, and snuggled under her covers, which smelled just fine now. No strange aroma—just the scent of her own lotion.
Her parents kissed her, then turned out the light and left the room. The hall light went on, and her father came back to close her bedroom door. But he left it open a couple of inches, without her even asking. “Wrap yourself in the wings of your guardian angel, kitten,” he said. “She’ll hide you from the nightmares.”
“Thanks, Daddy.” He hadn’t said that to her in years—not since she was in third grade, at least. But tonight the words gave her the comfort she needed.
Her father’s shadow vanished from the crack in the doorway, and a few seconds later she heard the master bedroom door close.
She tried to relax, reminding herself that nobody was in her room. Yet she was sure she wouldn’t go back to sleep, even with her parents in the next room, because despite their reassurances, she knew that even though her room was empty now, it hadn’t been earlier in the day.
Someone had been in her room—someone evil—and he’d left something behind; something more than just the vestiges of his strange aroma.
And she knew that no matter what she did, she would never be able to rid her room of his presence.
Suddenly, in the darkness of the night, she wished the house would be sold tomorrow and they could move away. Far, far away, where the man who had been in her room could never find her.
She lay quietly, staring at the silhouette of the stuffed elephant on her windowsill—the stuffed elephant the man had moved.
Getting out of bed, she picked the elephant off the sill and put it in the hall outside her door. She felt better with it gone, just as she’d felt better after she tore the pillowcase off earlier. She got back into bed and again told herself that she was safe.
But she still couldn’t sleep.
“I knew it,” Kara said as she and Steve got back in bed. “I woke up about ten seconds before she screamed, and I knew something was wrong.” Steve put his arm around her and drew her close, so her head lay on his chest, and she fell gratefully into the luxurious feel of his warmth. “Remember when she fell off that horse at camp and broke her collarbone?”
She felt Steve’s chest move as he nodded.
“I knew then, too. Remember? We were at the Billingslys for dinner, and suddenly I knew I had to get home, even though we’d barely been gone an hour. And by the time we got home, there was a call on the machine. Remember?”
“I remember,” Steve said in a tone that told her she’d told the story a few times too often.
But it wasn’t just the story that Kara remembered. It was hearing the terrible words: Lindsay . . . accident . . . hospital . . . on the message machine. “A mother knows these things,” she said. “This move is even harder for her than I thought it would be.” She put her arm around Steve and clung to him. “I feel so guilty.”
“Hey, it was only a nightmare,” he said, pulling her closer. “It’ll all be over soon.”
“It wasn’t ‘only’ a nightmare,” Kara said. “She’s upset. She’s upset enough that she was absolutely terrified.”
“And this afternoon she’d convinced herself that someone moved things around in her room, too,” Steve said. “And went through her drawers and rubbed his face on her pillow, and even took her underwear.”
“You think any of it could have happened?” Kara asked, her voice sounding to her as young and as vulnerable as Lindsay's.
“Not a chance,” Steve replied. “There was no one in the house but a bunch of real estate people. I think she talked herself into that nightmare. You watch—she’ll be fine.”
“I guess,” Kara sighed. “At least she will be once we’re out of
Lindsay shook her head. “I better just go back to sleep. I’ve got a science test in the morning.”
“We’ll leave the hall light on,” her father said.
Lindsay nodded, and snuggled under her covers, which smelled just fine now. No strange aroma—just the scent of her own lotion.
Her parents kissed her, then turned out the light and left the room. The hall light went on, and her father came back to close her bedroom door. But he left it open a couple of inches, without her even asking. “Wrap yourself in the wings of your guardian angel, kitten,” he said. “She’ll hide you from the nightmares.”
“Thanks, Daddy.” He hadn’t said that to her in years—not since she was in third grade, at least. But tonight the words gave her the comfort she needed.
Her father’s shadow vanished from the crack in the doorway, and a few seconds later she heard the master bedroom door close.
She tried to relax, reminding herself that nobody was in her room. Yet she was sure she wouldn’t go back to sleep, even with her parents in the next room, because despite their reassurances, she knew that even though her room was empty now, it hadn’t been earlier in the day.
Someone had been in her room—someone evil—and he’d left something behind; something more than just the vestiges of his strange aroma.
And she knew that no matter what she did, she would never be able to rid her room of his presence.
Suddenly, in the darkness of the night, she wished the house would be sold tomorrow and they could move away. Far, far away, where the man who had been in her room could never find her.
She lay quietly, staring at the silhouette of the stuffed elephant on her windowsill—the stuffed elephant the man had moved.
Getting out of bed, she picked the elephant off the sill and put it in the hall outside her door. She felt better with it gone, just as she’d felt better after she tore the pillowcase off earlier. She got back into bed and again told herself that she was safe.
But she still couldn’t sleep.
“I knew it,” Kara said as she and Steve got back in bed. “I woke up about ten seconds before she screamed, and I knew something was wrong.” Steve put his arm around her and drew her close, so her head lay on his chest, and she fell gratefully into the luxurious feel of his warmth. “Remember when she fell off that horse at camp and broke her collarbone?”
She felt Steve’s chest move as he nodded.
“I knew then, too. Remember? We were at the Billingslys for dinner, and suddenly I knew I had to get home, even though we’d barely been gone an hour. And by the time we got home, there was a call on the machine. Remember?”
“I remember,” Steve said in a tone that told her she’d told the story a few times too often.
But it wasn’t just the story that Kara remembered. It was hearing the terrible words: Lindsay . . . accident . . . hospital . . . on the message machine. “A mother knows these things,” she said. “This move is even harder for her than I thought it would be.” She put her arm around Steve and clung to him. “I feel so guilty.”
“Hey, it was only a nightmare,” he said, pulling her closer. “It’ll all be over soon.”
“It wasn’t ‘only’ a nightmare,” Kara said. “She’s upset. She’s upset enough that she was absolutely terrified.”
“And this afternoon she’d convinced herself that someone moved things around in her room, too,” Steve said. “And went through her drawers and rubbed his face on her pillow, and even took her underwear.”
“You think any of it could have happened?” Kara asked, her voice sounding to her as young and as vulnerable as Lindsay's.
“Not a chance,” Steve replied. “There was no one in the house but a bunch of real estate people. I think she talked herself into that nightmare. You watch—she’ll be fine.”
“I guess,” Kara sighed. “At least she will be once we’re out of
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