If Only in My Dreams (36 page)

Jed throws his head back and laughs. “No, see, now I know you’re joking around. The Wilkens baby is going to be a girl called Daisy.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Maisie said so, and Maisie is never wrong. Anyway, what kind of a name is Denton?”

“Jed…” Clara swallows hard. “Please… if everything I’ve said comes true tomorrow, will you believe me then?”

“Believe that you can see the future? I guess I’ll have to… if everything you say comes true.”

She exhales in relief, ignoring the dubious look on his face. Once he has proof that she knows what she’s talking about, he’ll agree not to enlist. He has to.

She refuses to believe that she’s powerless to change his destiny.

Maybe she just couldn’t save Minnie because she left too much to chance. She probably should have come right out and told the old woman not to go out tonight, no matter what.

Yes, and would she have obeyed?

I could have made sure that she did. I could have come right out and told her that if she left the house, she was going to die
.

Well, with Jed, she’s already been straightforward.

Too straightforward, judging by the worried gaze he’s fixed on her.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

“Poor Minnie.”

“She’s going to pull through, Clara. You’ll see. That’s what the ambulance driver said to her.”

“He was just trying to keep her calm. You don’t really think he’d tell her she wasn’t going to make it, do you?”

“No,” he admits, “I don’t. But even if Minnie doesn’t pull through, Clara… she’s in her eighties. She’s lived a long life, and she’s been lonely without her husband. He was all she—”

He breaks off as somewhere beyond the cozy little room, a board creaks.

“Is that you, Doris?” Jed calls, looking toward the door.

No reply.

He stands and strides over, opening the door with a flourish. “Gotcha!”

Clara watches him stick his head out into the darkness of the garage.

“Huh. No Doris. Must have been the wind,” he says, and closes the door. He locks it, then turns to look at Clara.

“Tomorrow is a long ways away,” he comments.

Clara shrugs, knowing it’s going to come all too soon—and when it does, she won’t be the only one wishing the clock could be turned back.

“What are we going to do in the meantime?” Jed asks slyly, returning to the bed and draping his arms around her.

Clara’s heart quickens despite her somber mood. “I don’t know.…”

Jed kisses her, lightly. “Say,” he says against her mouth, “I’ve got an idea.…”

And for a little while longer, at least, there is nothing but the here and now.

CHAPTER 17

J
ed?”

Pounding footsteps up the stairs, an urgent knock at the door.

“Jed!”

“What is it?” he calls, hurrying over, legs weak with apprehension. “What’s wrong?”

He opens the door to find his kid sister standing on the top step, bundled in a black woolen coat, a thick yellow muffler, and an old velvet hat of Penny’s that ties with frayed ribbons beneath her chin.

“Come on, let’s go get the tree!”

He groans. “Hold your horses, Doris! I thought something terrible happened.”

Yes, thanks to Clara and her dire predictions for today.

“The only terrible thing that’s happened,” his impetuous sister informs him, “is that you’re not keeping your promise.”

“What promise is that?”

“The one where you said we’d go get the tree first thing.”

“And we will, just as soon as Clara is ready.”

“But that won’t be first thing. That’s more like
last
thing.”

He sighs.

Doris has been pestering him since six, when she descended on him as he slept on the sofa. Of course, she didn’t know that he had arrived in the house less than a half hour before, having spent the better part of the night in his own bed with Clara.

He didn’t want to leave her.

He never wants to leave her… but he especially didn’t last night. Not after the way she acted, the strange things she said.

Does she honestly think she can see into the future?

Can
she see into the future?

He would almost believe it, based on her actions just before Minnie’s accident.…

If it weren’t impossible.

Nothing is impossible, Jed. If anyone is proof of that, I am
.

What did she mean by that?

“Come on, Jed,” his sister pesters.

“Doris… be patient.”

“I am being patient. You said to give you fifteen minutes.”

“That was five minutes ago, toots. Why don’t you go read the Sunday funnies or something?”

“I already did. Twice. There’s a new one today—
John Carter of Mars
. Now come on!”

“It’s okay. Let’s go, Jed.” Clara has come up behind him.

Doris’s eyes widen. “What kind of coat is that?”

He turns to see that Clara is wearing her puffy red parka again, with the red knit hat and mittens. And the dungarees she had on that first day, plus her white rubber shoes.

“If we’re going out into the woods,” Clara says simply, “I want to make sure I’m warm.”

Jed notices uneasily that she isn’t looking at him.

Well, Doris is the one who asked the question.…

But it’s almost as though Clara is avoiding eye contact with him.

Or is he just paranoid today?

I am, thanks to her
.

Today is Sunday, December 7. The day Clara claims will live on in infamy… to quote the president’s mythical speech.

Well, it’s already midmorning, and there’s been no word of an attack yet. When Jed asked Clara what time she thought the Japs were going to start dropping bombs on Hawaii, she said she wasn’t sure.

So here he is, unable to shake the feeling that something is about to happen. Something awful.

But it has nothing to do with the war or Minnie Bouvier.…

No, it’s Clara. He’s going to lose Clara.

He still doesn’t know why, or when, exactly.…

But she’s going to go. She told him.

So? You’ll see each other again. And she can move up here, or eventually, after Gilbert comes back, you can move down there.
…

But what if she goes, and he never sees her again?

Oh, come on, what are you thinking, Jed? You aren’t going to just let her
… go.

But what if…

What if it isn’t up to him?

It won’t be
.

It wasn’t with Carol, and it won’t be with Clara, either. Somehow, he knows that.

Somehow, he’s certain that this time, when Clara leaves, she’ll have no intention of finding her way back to him. Ever.

And you know this based on what?
he asks himself angrily.
An irrational hunch? A groundless fear?

He isn’t sure what’s driving his pessimism.

But now, seeing Clara standing there wearing the same clothes she had on when she got here on Wednesday, his dismal state of mind isn’t exactly eased.

“Come
on
,” Doris prods again, though she’s still looking over Clara’s clothing with an inquisitive eye.

“Just let me get the keys and my coat, and then I have to go downstairs and look for Pop’s axe.”

“I already found it in the garage, Jed, see?” She swings it up to eye level.

“Jeepers creepers, Doris!” Jed grabs the handle to steady it in her hands. “Give that to me.”

“Why do you get to carry it?”

“Because I’m the grown-up.”

“Well, so am I.” Doris sticks out her tongue at him. “Oh, and by the way, Mother wants you to take her to the hospital later to visit Mrs. Bouvier.”

Jed looks at Clara, who refuses to look back.

“Has Mother heard anything about her this morning?” he anxiously asks his sister.

“No, that’s why she wants to go. She called the hospital, but they wouldn’t give out any information over the phone. Now she’s worried.”

A chill slips over Jed. “Maybe we should stop there ourselves, then, on the way to get the tree.”

“No!” his sister and Clara protest in unison.

He glances from one to the other in surprise.

Clara shakes her head slightly at him.
She doesn’t want to bring Doris to the hospital
, Jed realizes,
because she’s afraid something’s happened to Minnie
.

“Children aren’t allowed in the hospital,” Doris informs him.

“Oh? Well, I thought you were a grown-up.”

“I
am
a grown-up. Except sometimes, I’m a child.”

“Only when it suits you, though,” Clara says with a grin. “Right?”

“Right,” is Doris’s cheerful reply.

Jed rolls his eyes.

“Let’s go get the tree.
O, Christmas tree, o, Christmas tree
…”

“Must you sing that
again?”
Jed grumbles at his sister as they all head down the steep steps.

“It’s my favorite Christmas carol.”

“Then we’ll teach you a new one, and that can be your favorite instead. Listen:
I’ll
…
be home… for Christmas,”
Jed sings, then breaks off to coax with forced enthusiasm, “Come on, Clara, let’s make it a duet.”

“
You… can plan… on me.”

But he can tell her heart isn’t in it either, and her thoughts are a million miles from here.

You’re slipping away, Clara… and I have no idea how to bring you back
.

For a few hours, at least, Clara was almost able to forget the harsh reality of today.

Tromping through the hushed, alabaster-carpeted woods north of town, singing Christmas carols with Jed and his
sister, she temporarily relinquished the burden of knowing what’s coming, locally, globally—and being powerless to do anything about it.

Now, however, as Jed pulls the DeSoto into the driveway back on Chestnut Street, toxic trepidation is once again corroding her from within.

Even so, she clings to a shimmer of hope.

Maybe Jed was right about Minnie Bouvier pulling through after all. Maybe she didn’t die. Maybe—

“Look, there’s Mother,” Doris announces. “What is she doing out there? She must have been watching for us.”

Yes, Lois Landry is stepping out onto the back stoop wearing a thin housedress, heedless of the flurries in the air.

Clara doesn’t dare look over at Jed, beside her in the front seat. But she can feel the tension that suddenly clenches his body as profoundly as it does her own.

Something is wrong.

“Mother, look at the tree!” Doris bounds out of the car, gesturing at the evergreen lashed to the roof. “We got the biggest, best one ever!”

“Doris, go right inside,” her mother commands, anxiously twisting the dish towel in her hands. “It’s snowing.”

“But don’t you want to see—”

“
Now
, Doris.”

“All right… I’ll go up to the attic and find all the tree lights and decorations.” She disappears into the house before anyone can protest.

Jed is already out of the car and opening Clara’s door. His cold hand shakes as he takes hers to help her out, his gaze focused on his mother’s distressed face.

“What is it?” he asks her as he and Clara hurry toward her.

“Sarah Wenick was just here—she came right over from the hospital. Minnie Bouvier passed away this morning.”

Jed can’t breathe, much less speak.

He feels Clara’s hand tighten in his own.

“That poor old woman,” his mother goes on. “What a terrible way to die. All alone, and she had to be so frightened—”

“No…” Jed recovers his voice. “She saw an angel, Mother. When I was with her right after the accident. I’ll bet she wasn’t alone when she died.”

Hearing a sniffle, he looks at Clara and is stunned to see tears running down her cheeks. But… why?

She doesn’t even know the old woman.

Or does she?

Again, he realizes that Clara McCallum is purely an enigma, perhaps more so now than ever before.

Because she knew. Somehow, she knew Minnie wasn’t going to make it.

Still, Jed supposes, it could have been a lucky—or rather, unlucky—guess.

“Mother,” he asks, his eyes still focused on Clara’s impermeable expression, “has there been any news today? About the war?”

His mother shakes her head distractedly.

If she hasn’t heard anything, then nothing has happened. His grandparents will have had the radio on; they always listen to the string quartet on Sundays after church.

“Leave the tree for now. Come inside.” Mother holds the door open for them.

Stepping into the kitchen, they’re greeted by a scorched smell, and something bubbling over.

“Oh, no, my stew!” Lois cries out.

“Here, let me help you.” Clara takes off her mittens and tosses them onto the counter.

Something clatters to the linoleum.

“You dropped these.” Jed stoops to retrieve her key ring and hands it to her, along with the folded bills she’s been carrying for days, unable to spend them here.

“Thanks.” She hastily shoves the keys and money into her back pocket, then grabs a pair of crocheted pot holders.

“I’ll be right back.” Jed ignores the questioning look Clara shoots over her shoulder at him. “I’ve got to make a call.”