Miracle in the Mist (25 page)

Then, if not Frank, who could be following her into the woods? The first name to pop into her head was Alvin, but Alvin had gone with Ellie. Perhaps it was Emanuel.

She stepped behind the large trunk of an old maple tree and peered around it. Pressing her cheek against the rough bark, she scanned the trees. Sunshine bled through the upper branches in long, ghostly fingers. Dark shadows crawled across the ground with each breeze that shifted the limbs.

A squirrel skittered down a limb near her head, causing her to catch her breath then straighten and spin around. The squirrel stopped and peered at her for a second or two through large, black, curious eyes. Then it scurried off into another tree. Could it have been just another squirrel she heard?

At that precise moment, the footsteps became audible again. They were heavy, decisive, and seemed to be getting closer. Definitely not a squirrel. Those footsteps undoubtedly belonged to a person. Quaking with inexplicable fear, she scanned the trees for any sign of a human being. But she saw nothing except trees and grass and wildflowers.

Had it been her imagination? Why had she been foolish enough to venture so far from the village alone? The thought almost made her laugh out loud. She was being stupid. No one in the village would harm her. Still…

Just as she was about to turn back, a long shadow fell across the ground a few yards from her. It had not been her imagination. Someone was following her. Despite the icy fear trickling down her spine, sweat beaded her forehead. She grabbed at the solid tree trunk for support. Her mind flashed back to her dream when she was hiding in the bushes from a pursuer.

No, this can't be the same. That was a dream
.

Carrie knew she was awake, but the shadow still remained on the ground, as if the person throwing that shadow was waiting… waiting. But for what? Her?

A twig snapped, and her gaze flew back to the shadow. It had gained definition. It was a man—a very large man. Another twig snapped, this time just on the other side of the tree trunk to which she was clinging.

Then the oddest thing happened. Not far from where she was standing, a woman emerged from the trees. But not just any woman. This woman was… her. How could that be? Was she indeed dreaming again? Mouth agape, she stared fixedly at the woman as she moved toward the place where the person casting the shadow would be standing.

No time to decipher the hows and whys. Something inside Carrie told her that if the woman kept walking, she would be in danger. Still, her mirror image strolled closer, seemingly unaware of any danger.

"Don't come any closer," Carrie whispered very softly. "He's waiting for you." She had no idea how she knew that. She just did.

She'd stopped breathing. Her nerves drew tight. Her fingers dug into the tree's bark.Knowing the woman was walking into some terrible danger, she forgot about the risk to herself and stepped from behind the tree, screaming, "Run! He's waiting for you!"

Oddly, the woman acted as if she hadn't heard her. But Carrie knew she must have. She was just barely feet from her. How could she not? Yet she made no sign of hearing the warning and continued to walk in
his
direction.

Desperation and intense fear forced Carrie to try again. "Can't you hear me? Run!"

Still the woman was oblivious to the threat awaiting her. Carrie spun toward the man to see if he was still there. Not only was he there, he had stepped out of his hiding place, and she recognized him as the faceless man of her dreams. The difference was that this time, because she had given him a face, she could plainly see the cruelty in the set of his features and the almost animalistic anger that twisted his mouth.

Chapter 21

Carrie couldn't understand why the woman wasn't listening to her. She was walking into certain danger, and Carrie didn't seem to be able to warn her away. If this woman who looked so much like her
was
her, then why couldn't she at least sense that there was a problem? Why wouldn't she listen?

Frustrated, Carrie ran up to her and looked her in the eye. "He's going to kill you one of these days!" she shouted into her face. The woman looked through her as if she weren't there.

Then what Carrie had said to the woman hit her. She hadn't said, he's
going to kill you
. She'd said, he's going to kill you
one of these days
. How had she known that? In her heart, Carrie was certain that this was not the first time she'd warned this woman. Nor was it the first time the woman had ignored that warning.

Carrie knew she wasn't imagining the threat. After all, one had only to look at his face to see the evil and the anger that lurked there. She glanced back at him, as though reaffirming her thoughts.

To her surprise, his face had altered. He was now quite handsome, with a loving glint in his chocolate brown eyes. He held his hand out to the woman, and she took it. He smiled down at her, and she smiled back.

At that moment, the truth of what was happening hit her. Carrie was no more than a helpless, ignored onlooker whom neither of them saw or heard.
Why
?

Carrie grabbed the sides of her head. Pain unlike any she'd ever felt before sliced through her temples. She didn't understand any of this. Could more of her memory be returning in this scenario? If helping her remember was truly the reason for this, it wasn't working. Confusion and frustration filled her throbbing head.

Through the mist of pain, she watched the couple walk hand in hand, just as Alvin and Ellie had, into the trees.

"No! Don't go with him! He's going to—"

As they disappeared, the pain in her temples grew excruciatingly intense. Carrie sank to her knees, still holding her head as the pain finally subsided to a faint ache, and then disappeared completely. A sense of inevitability replaced it.

Then a woman's high-pitched scream rent the silence of the forest. The sound shivered over Carrie like the hand of death. Small animals scurried for cover. Birds squawked in protest and deserted their perches among the branches overhead.

Without thinking about her own safety, Carrie sprang to her feet and then ran toward the sound. As she rounded a large outcropping of rocks, she saw the woman on the ground, blood streaming from her mouth. The man was standing over her with fists clenched.

"Get up, bitch," he growled.

The woman whimpered, shook her head, and cowered against the dried leaves coating the forest floor, her hands shielding her face.

"I'm not telling you again." He grabbed a handful of her auburn hair, hair the same color as Carrie's, and dragged her up. "I said, stand up."

With little recourse, the woman scrambled to her feet, but her hands remained in front of her face. "Please," she begged, tears choking her voice, "don't hit me again."

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do." He hauled back his arm and hit her solidly against the side of her head with his fist.

Carrie thought she heard bone crack. She grimaced and hoped it was his hand. But the wail of pain from the woman told Carrie the cracking bone had been hers. The woman's body slumped and hung like a rag doll from his hand. He released her hair, and she fell to the ground in a heap, blood pouring from the corner of her mouth and from the new cut at her temple, most likely inflicted by the gold ring on his hand.

"Bastard!" Carrie screamed and rushed to the woman's side.

Frantic to help her, Carrie scooped her bloody body into her arms and cradled her against her chest. The woman didn't move. Carrie rocked her back and forth, praying that she was wrong, that the woman wasn't dead.

Looking down at her, Carrie wiped the blood away as her own tears fell on the woman's face. "You can't die!" she cried, keeping the rocking motion going. "Why didn't you leave him? Why?" She caressed the woman's face as she hugged it closer to her, oblivious of the blood seeping into her own clothes. "Please don't die.
Don't die
!"

But it seemed useless, and Carrie covered her face with her hands and sobbed. When she finally regained her composure a few minutes later, she dropped her hands. To her shock and surprise, the man had vanished, as had the woman whose head had rested in Carrie's lap. The blood from the woman's battered face that had stained Carrie's clothes was gone, as well.

High above her, birds twittered merrily from the treetops. All was as it had been before the man had appeared in the woods. Carrie shivered. What was happening to her? Was she going crazy? Why was she now seeing herself outside her body? What was any of this accomplishing except making her doubt her sanity?

***

Clara had just started supper when the door burst open. Carrie stood there looking bedraggled and shell-shocked. Her face lacked color, and she was chewing nervously on her bottom lip. Before the girl said a word, Clara knew her memory had started to return. Poor child. This was going to be an emotional time for her.

She went to Carrie and guided her to one of the chairs at the table, and then poured hot tea into a porcelain cup and set it in front of her.

"Drink this. It'll make you feel less shaky, and then we'll talk about what happened."

Carrie sipped gingerly at the tea and then nodded. "I think my memory is coming back." She looked at Clara, her eyes hollow and haunted. "But now I'm not sure I want to remember. It all seems too horrible to be true. How could anyone do that to someone they supposedly love? How could I love him?"

Brow furrowed, she sipped at her tea.

Clara shook her head. If she knew the answer to that, it would have saved a great many women years of undeserved agony. "No one can control or understand how love works, my dear. What happens to these women is like a homing pigeon that soars above the air currents, free and independent."

Carrie's frown deepened. "I don't understand."

"Well," Clara explained, "the pigeon gets caught on a violent upward draft, and for a time, it's nice to just soar there, free and relying only on the current to carry it from place to place. After all, to break free could mean its demise. Only when the bird realizes that although it may be easier to ride the violent current, it is not safer, and despite its loving the feeling, the current is battering it, throwing it around, harming it. If it wishes to ensure its survival, it must break free of the current. But in the end, the bird must make the decision to extract itself."

She refilled Carrie's cup and poured one for herself.

"You mean, I have to break free of him if I want to live."

Clara sighed. She shook her head. "I can't answer that, child." She wished Emanuel were there to help. This was one of the most difficult Assignments she'd ever handled.

The hand holding Carrie’s cup paused midway to her mouth. "Why?"

Before Clara could answer, there was a knock at the door. She patted Carrie's hand and went to answer it. When she swung the door open, she was not surprised to find Emanuel on the other side. There had never been a time when she needed him that he didn't come. Most times she was grateful for his assistance, but this time his appearance brought humiliation with it. She'd never asked Emanuel for help with her Assignments before, and she should have been able to do this on her own, but…

Unable to meet his gaze, she dipped her head.

"I'm sorry. I—"

The Elder raised her chin so that his gaze fell upon her face. He smiled. "No need to apologize, my dear. This time your Assignment is not an easy one, and to not ask for help would have been foolish."

"I thought by now she would have realized… But she hasn't," Clara said, trying not to let her frustration show in her tone of voice.

He nodded, and then he swept past her into the room. She closed the door and followed him to the table where Carrie waited, her eyes wide and her face pale as snowfall.

This was the first time Carrie and the village Elder had come face to face. Clara had spoken of him, as had Frank, but even with their descriptions, Carrie still wasn't prepared for a man of such presence. In many ways, he reminded her of her grandfather. The same playful twinkle lit the soft gray eyes brimming with wisdom. His lips curved slightly in a perpetual gentle smile. Pink colored his ruddy cheeks, and lines crisscrossed his brow and fanned out from the corners of his eyes.

But that's where the similarities ended. The robe, the long white hair and beard, the way he seemed to be bathed in a light from an unseen source gave him the appearance of a man who should have been carved in stone and standing in a niche in a church.

Oddly, Carrie felt a surge of trust. She knew instinctively that this man would not lie to her or mislead her. For once, she just may be face to face with someone who could and would answer all the questions swimming through her brain.

"Who am I?" she asked Emanuel bluntly.

"Carrie Henderson."

"Where do I come from?"

"Tarrytown."

"Am I married?"

Emanuel didn't have an answer readily available as he'd had before. Instead he glanced at Clara. Clara shook her head, but wouldn't meet Carrie's gaze.

"She doesn't remember," she muttered.

"Carrie," he said, laying his large, warm hand on hers, "the woman you saw in the forest today—"

Carrie's head snapped up. "How did you know I saw a woman in the forest?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "That's of no importance right now."

She wanted to argue that everything he knew about her was of importance, but she had more pressing questions for him than how he could have known what happened someplace he hadn't been.

"Am I married?" she asked again.

Emanuel shook his head. "No, my dear, you are not married."

Carrie's first reaction was a flood of relief that she was not tied to a monster by wedding vows. Her second reaction was one of near elation. She was free to be with Frank. Her hand went automatically to her stomach.

Then confusion set in and moved all other emotions aside. If she wasn't married, then who was that man, and why was she seeing such horrible scenarios?