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  “Is anyone out there?” she called out suddenly, surprising herself by the strength of her voice.

  A faint echo rebounded from the woods, but other than the birdsong, that was all.

  Shifting forward in her chair, she got ready to stand up, even though she wasn’t confident that she had the strength. Her body was completely wrung out, like she had just finished a four-mile run. She was scared, and the feeling that somewhere close by someone unseen was watching her was getting steadily stronger. Pressure filled her head, and she found it almost impossible to swallow or breathe.

  “I’m going out for a bit.”

  Trista’s voice, coming suddenly from inside the house, startled Kiera, making her jump and knock over her glass of soda. The glass hit the deck and shattered. Dark soda bubbled as it washed across the deck and splattered between the planks to the ground below.

  Kiera sighed and turned quickly to her daughter, who was standing in the doorway. The screen obscured her like a wall of smoke that made her look insubstantial. Forcing herself to use a milder voice, she asked, “Where you going?”

  “Just out,” Trista said, and without another word, she turned and left, disappearing like a ghost that had never really been there.

  “Who are you going with?” Kiera shouted. “When will you be back? We’re having supper as soon as your father gets home.”

  But Trista was already gone, slamming the door shut behind her.

  “All right, then,” Kiera whispered to herself. “See yah later.”

  Warm tears filled her eyes and ran down her face as she knelt down to pick up the shards of broken glass from the deck.

  3

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this.”

  Nate’s face was twisted with anger as he paced back and forth at the foot of the bed. It was another warm night, a little past eleven. Kiera was lying outside the covers, wearing only a thin nightgown. The fan was rattling in the window, making the curtains billow.

  “I already told you why. I didn’t want you to worry.”

  “Yeah . . . Sure . . . Okay . . . So it’s okay for me to worry now? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Don’t you think you’re overreacting just a tad?” Kiera spoke with a calmness she didn’t really feel. She was just as frightened—if not more so—about what was happening to her. After all, this was her life that was in jeopardy.

  Nate stopped pacing, turned, and looked at her. His dark eyes glistened in the dim bedroom light. His face looked paler than it should this time of year, but he didn’t get out and exercise much. The lines in his face, especially around his mouth, stood out in sharp relief.

  “Dr. Schwartz says it’s nothing to worry about. He said there’s a ninety-nine percent chance it’s nothing.”

  “There’s always that one percent,” Nate said, raising his forefinger and pointing at her.

  “Thanks. You know, I really don’t want to talk about this right now.” It took effort for Kiera to keep her voice steady. “The truth is, I’m a lot more worried about what’s going on with Trista than with what’s happening to me.”

  She glanced at the alarm clock on her bedside table and saw how late it was.

  “She left the house around four o’clock with him, and she hasn’t called.”

  “You call her?”

  “I tried. I’m just worried. Robbie drove away so fast he laid a patch of rubber on the road in front of the house.”

  Nate sniffed. “Trista’s fine. I see teenagers all day at school. She’s not half as bad as she could be.”

  “Well they aren’t my daughter,” Kiera said as a sharp pain lanced the left side of her head. She winced, waiting for the pain to intensify, but it quickly faded. “I swear to God,” she muttered, “sometimes I wish we’d never had her.”

  She hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but it was out of her mouth before she could stop it. She looked at Nate, who was staring at her, his face pale.

  “At least you finally admitted the truth,” he said softly. “But why not go the whole distance? Why not say you wish we had never gotten married, too? If that’s how you feel . . .”

  “No,” Kiera said, but her voice choked off before she could say more. Her face flushed, and her body tensed, as she waited for another migraine to kick in behind her left eye. “I never said that.”

  “Come on. You don’t have to,” Nate said. “You make it so frigging obvious every day, especially lately, that you’d just as soon not be with me.”

  “I do not,” Kiera said, but she cringed because she couldn’t add anything like, because I love you. “Did it ever occur to you that I might be a little bit frightened about what’s going on?”

  “What, with Trista or with me?”

  “With my head!” She pressed the flat of her hand against her forehead and winced. “These headaches! You have no idea . . .” Tears welled in her eyes, but she wiped them away before they could fall. “You have no clue how much they hurt and how . . . how scared I am.”

  Nate seemed to deflate in an instant. His shoulders slumped, and his eyes were downcast as he walked over and sat down on her side of the bed near her. He took hold of her hand and squeezed it, but Kiera noticed how cold and clammy his touch was.

  Is he really that afraid our relationship is going down the tubes, or is this just an act?

  She blinked as she stared up at the ceiling, then shifted to look at her husband’s face. The bedside light under-lit his features with a harsh glow. She wished she could see some trace of genuine tenderness and warmth in his face, but his face was a mask.

  What am I really afraid of?

  “Don’t you get it?” Nate said. “That’s why I was so upset when you didn’t tell me about it. I wanted to—I want to be there for you, but I can’t if you don’t let me.”

  “I know . . . I know,” Kiera said, looking down to avoid his steady gaze. “It’s just that . . . this is really scary.”

  “I know. So what’s next?”

  He took a breath and leaned away from her, and all Kiera could think was, Isn’t this when you should hold me? She slipped her hand away from his and wiped her eyes.

  “I have to have a CAT scan in two weeks.”

  “And what if the headaches get worse between now and then?”

  “Then I’ll deal with them.”

  She shuddered when she realized she was trying to convince herself as much as her husband that everything was going to be all right. Still, she had never felt so alone, so abandoned before. When she looked at Nate, even with him sitting so close, she felt there was a chasm between them, and she couldn’t help but wonder how—and if—they could ever bridge it.

  Something had been lost, or maybe it had never been there in the first place. Maybe Nate was right, and she did regret that they had ever gotten married. And now, she wasn’t even sure if she had the energy or the desire to find out what it was, much less try to get it back.

  “Look, I really need to get some sleep,” she said, “but there’s no way I can until—”

  Before she could finish, a door downstairs opened and shut. The sound carried through the quiet house. Seconds later, footsteps, moving stealthily, came up the stairs.

  “Trista? That you?” Nate called out.

  After a moment’s hesitation, a reply came.

  “Uhh . . . yeah.”

  “We’re awake,” Kiera said, noticing the edge in her voice.

  Trista didn’t answer.

  From the sound of her voice, Kiera knew Trista was standing outside her bedroom door, no doubt anxious to get into her room and shut the door.

  Something else has been lost here, too, Kiera thought as a heavy sourness settled in her stomach.

  “So where were you?” Kiera called out.

  Again, Trista didn’t answer. The only sound was that of her bedroom door opening and shutting.

  Kiera looked at Nate. It was his turn, now, to have trouble maintaining eye contact.

  “Are you going
to talk to her, ask her where she’s been?” Kiera asked.

  Nate just sat there on the edge of the bed, looking back and forth between Kiera and the door.

  “She’s fine,” he finally said. “I think the best thing for us would be to get off her case all the time.” He paused, and neither of them spoke as they glared at each other. “Okay, so you don’t like Robbie. Did it ever occur to you that giving her so much crap all the time might only be driving her to him?”

  Kiera had no idea what to say about that, but she practically leaped off the bed and strode down the hall to Trista’s room. She clenched her fist and pounded on the door.

  “Open up,” she said, her voice hard with command.

  After several seconds, she heard footsteps approach the door. The lock clicked, and the door opened a crack. Trista peered out at her.

  “You want to tell me where you’ve been?”

  “Not really,” Trista said. “It’s none of your business.”

  “Oh yes it is, young lady.” Kiera put her hand on the door and pushed it open, making Trista back up. She stood there looking at her mother, her hands clasped against her chest.

  “I want to know where you were and who you were with.”

  In a flash, Trista’s expression changed from timid to furious. Her eyes widened, and her face flushed.

  “As if you don’t already know!” she yelled, so loudly, Kiera was taken aback.

  “What—? What are you talking about?”

  “You don’t think we saw you?”

  Totally confused, all Kiera could do was stand there and shake her head and say, “Saw me? Where?”

  “In your fucking car!” Trista shouted, her voice shrill to the point of breaking. “You were following us.”

  “I . . . I was not. I was right here all evening.”

  Trista wrinkled her nose and snorted. “Like hell. You think I wouldn’t recognize you? Jesus, how fucking stupid are you?”

  “You watch your language, young lady.”

  Trista’s face contorted with rage as tears filled her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

  “Just leave me alone! Let me live my life the way I want to! I don’t need you following me around and spying on me!”

  “But I wasn’t . . .” Kiera was conflicted. She felt impelled to go to her daughter and talk to her, try to figure out what she was talking about and calm her down, but at the same time she was frighteningly aware of just how distant they were.

  “I never left the house tonight,” she said, but Trista snorted again.

  “I don’t want to talk,” she said, pointing out the door. “Just get out and leave me alone.”

  Convinced there was nothing she could do or say—at least not now—Kiera stood there for a few seconds longer; then she turned and left, closing the door softly behind her so Trista wouldn’t slam it shut.

  As she walked down the hall to her bedroom, she could hear loud banging sounds from Trista’s room as she threw things around. Consumed with a sense of overwhelming defeat, she slipped into bed without a word, turned out the light, and just lay there with her back to Nate as she stared into the darkness.

  “You wanna talk about it?” Nate asked after a minute or two.

  “I need to sleep right now,” Kiera said tightly. She squeezed her eyes so tightly shut tears ran from them as she waited . . . waited for the first throb of pain to begin. Hopefully, she’d be sound asleep before another migraine came.

  CHAPTER 4

  Reflections

  1

  The next two weeks passed without incident. Although Kiera never got another full-blown migraine in that time, it seemed as though one was always looming like a thunderstorm on the horizon, ready to strike without warning.

  Nothing had changed between her and Nate, and things were even worse between her and Trista. There was still an icy distance between her and both her husband and daughter, and she couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was real and how much was just her. More times than she cared to admit to herself, especially late at night as she tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep, she found herself wondering how different her life would have been if she had never married Nate and had never had Trista. She spent much of her days feeling nostalgic about the years that had passed, and she couldn’t help but wonder if this was because she was feeling her own mortality or if most, maybe all, of what she was feeling was real.

  The morning of her CAT scan was tougher than she thought it would be. Because they were going to be examining her head, the doctor had told her she probably wouldn’t have to drink a contrast solution, which was used for digestive and circulation scans to help get a clearer picture of the internal organs. As a safety precaution, though, a nurse from the hospital called the night before and instructed her not to eat or drink anything after midnight.

  Nate insisted that he go to the hospital with her. Kiera wasn’t sure she even wanted him to be there. She still wanted to deal with it on her own. Alone. She actually enjoyed the feeling of independence, but she realized there was no way she would convince him not to come.

  It was just as well, she finally decided, because she knew she’d be in no condition to drive after the exam . . . especially if they found anything.

  And that’s what was bothering her most. These other problems could wait until she was through with the tests.

  Through the last two weeks, researching on the Internet, she had become even more convinced a tumor was growing in her head. Dr. Schwartz told her there were no nerves in the brain, so she wouldn’t have been able to feel anything, but she was aware of a cold pressure building up inside her head and centered behind her left eye. Schwartz assured her that, after the exam, the doctor would give her a quick analysis, and she was mentally preparing herself for the worst-case scenario . . . inoperable cancer.

  “You ’bout ready?” Nate called from the foot of the stairs.

  Kiera had just finished applying her makeup and was ready to go, but Nate’s impatience irritated her.

  Why is he hurrying me like this?

  How come he can eat and drink anything he wants to, and I can’t? . . . Not even a cup of coffee?

  “Just a sec,” she shouted back.

  Trista was still asleep, but Kiera didn’t care if they woke her up with their yelling. It’d be nice if she bothered to get up and at least wish her mother good luck today, but like everyone else these days, Kiera hadn’t talked to her about what was going on.

  Staring into the mirror, she gave her thick, red hair another few quick strokes with the brush, then turned to leave. As she did, though, she saw something that made her catch her breath and freeze. Just as she was turning away from the mirror, in the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of her reflection. The odd thing was, it didn’t turn when she turned. For an instant, her reflection appeared to be frozen in the glass, unmoving as it stared back at her.

  A wave of chills slid up Kiera’s back when she turned to look at the mirror. She held her breath and stared at her reflection, moving her head from side to side. The reflection appeared perfectly normal now, and she wanted to believe it had just been a trick of the eye. She raised her hand and brushed her hair away from her face. Her reflection did exactly what she did—as it should—but even now, as she moved, a smear of gauzy purple light followed her movements.

  “What the . . . ?” she whispered. She brought her face close to the mirror. Her breath made two small fog rings on the glass when she exhaled.

  Blinking her eyes a few times, she tried to re-create the visual effect, but once again, everything appeared normal. She turned away and then looked back quickly at the mirror, expecting to see another strange visual effect, but nothing happened.

  “All right,” she whispered. “Just calm down.”

  Her face and neck were slick with sweat, and her pulse was racing. When she wet a washcloth with cool water and blotted the back of her neck, a shiver ran through her. Again, when she wasn’t thinking about it, when she glanced down at
the sink, she had the impression her reflection in the mirror didn’t move in time with her. Looking quickly back at her face, she stared into her eyes, which were wide with fear.

  “Don’t mess with me, okay?” she whispered as she raised her hand to her left eyebrow and rubbed it gently.

  “Kiera?”

  Kiera jumped, startled. Nate was standing in the doorway, but she’d been so involved looking into the mirror, she hadn’t heard him come upstairs. The light from the bedroom lit him from behind, making his features indistinct.

  “You okay?” he asked as he took a step forward.

  Suddenly embarrassed and feeling foolish, Kiera nodded and somehow managed to say, “Yeah . . . I’m fine.”

  Nate stretched his left arm out and tapped his wristwatch. “If you’re supposed to be there by seven o’clock, we’d better get going.”

  The morning had a slight chill, a presage that autumn was on its way, so Kiera grabbed a sweater before going downstairs. Nate was a few steps behind her and went out into the garage first to open the car door for her.

  “Thanks,” she said as she sat down and snapped on her seat belt. Nate didn’t reply as he walked around the car and got in on the driver’s side. He gave her a tight smile but still said nothing. He pressed the garage door controller, and as the garage door rumbled up, he started the car and backed out into the driveway.

  They barely spoke during the drive from Stratford to Maine Medical Center in Portland. Kiera couldn’t stop thinking about how nervous and worried she was, but she didn’t feel comfortable talking about it to Nate. She stared blankly at the road ahead or out the side window, watching the familiar landscape flash by, but not really noticing anything.

  “All right,” Nate muttered as he pulled up to the ticket booth in the hospital parking lot. He took the ticket, tucked it under the visor, and drove around the lot looking for an empty slot.

  “Didn’t think there’d be so many people here this early,” he said, glancing at her, but Kiera still had the impression he was talking to himself, not her.

  They found an empty place and parked. Kiera opened the door for herself and stepped out while Nate got out and shut his door. When he activated the automatic door lock, the sudden chirp startled her and made her jump.