The Accident (2 page)

“Well, if she’s planning on batting her eyelashes and telling him her book fell in the water and got ruined so she couldn’t study, she’d better get real. Ollie isn’t impressed by those sexy types.”

Megan’s eyes closed in pain. He thought Karen Tucker was sexy? What was it that Karen had that she, Megan, didn’t? As if I didn’t know, she thought. Karen has the art of flirting down to a science and a great figure. She
is
sexy.

A siren sounded in the distance. Then another. But they were too far away to be the Lake Patrol. So it wasn’t a boating accident. A fire in town? A car wreck?

That uneasy feeling she’d had all day kicked her in the stomach. Sirens meant something, somewhere, was very wrong.

“Megan? You still there?”

“Listen, Justin, I can’t sit here and talk to you all night.” She was still stinging from the “sexy type” remark. She didn’t care if he heard it in her voice. “You may have this quiz aced, but I don’t. I’ve got to go.”

“Oh. Okay.” Was that disappointment in his voice? Then why didn’t he say, “I’ll miss you when you hang up”?

Because Justin never said stuff like that to Megan Logan. He talked to her about books and music and metaphysics and the power of the universe, but he never said, “Megan Logan, you make the sun shine for me,” which happened to be exactly what she wanted to hear.

“See you at lunch tomorrow?”

“Sure,” she murmured, her voice lake-water cool. “I mean, I guess so. I always do. See you at lunch, I mean.” She groaned silently. Brilliant. Positively brilliant. She really should see an agent about some heavy-duty public speaking. She’d make a fortune.

There was a brief silence. Then Justin asked quietly, “You okay?”

She was being stupid and childish. Justin hadn’t done anything wrong. Karen Tucker
was
sexy. Everyone said so. But she still didn’t feel like asking him to her party, not right now. Maybe later. “Sure. I’m fine. Just hyper about the quiz, that’s all. I’d better go. See you tomorrow.”

The minute she hung up, she was angry with herself for not asking him about the party. It was only eleven days away, and the birthday girl still didn’t have a date.

Maybe I’ll go stag, she thought, switching on her radio. But Mom would have a fit. “Honestly, Megan,” she’d say in exasperation, “why didn’t you ask Justin? I suppose you put it off and put it off until it was too late. What am I going to do with you?”

Gram had always defended her. Whenever Megan’s parents threw up their hands in despair because their only daughter had “her head in the clouds,” Gram would say mildly, “Megan marches to a different drummer, that’s all. All creative people have their heads in the clouds. Maybe she’ll write a great novel one day. She’s fine. Leave her alone.”

But Gram was gone, five months now.

Megan still missed her.

She got up, smoothing out the turquoise skirt, just as the music on her radio was replaced by an announcer’s deep voice saying, “
This word just in. There has been a serious automobile accident at Sutter’s Bend just west of town. Three people have been taken by Emergency Medical Services to Lakeside Medical Center after their vehicle hit a utility pole. Residents are urged to avoid the area as live wires pose a safety threat. The names of the injured, whose families have been notified, are sisters Jennifer and Barbara Winn, ages sixteen and fifteen, and Catherine Cabot, sixteen
.”

Megan’s hand flew to her mouth. She stood stock-still in the center of the room, frozen in shock. Jenny? And Barb? And Cappie? Hurt?

She couldn’t move. The sirens had not wailed for some poor stranger, after all. They had been shrieking for three of her closest friends. And the announcer had clearly said, “A serious accident.”
How
serious?

The telephone shrilled again, startling her. Numbly, she reached down and picked up the receiver.

“Meg? Megan, is that you? It’s me, Hilary. Megan,
say
something!”

All the people out on the lake had gone home, leaving it peaceful and quiet. Downstairs, the television her parents and her ten-year-old brother, Thomas, were watching droned on. The whippoorwills were quiet. Everything, except the suffocating heat, was as it always was.

Except that something horrible had just happened.

“Hil,” she said slowly. “Jenny and Barb …”

“I know. I heard. That’s why I’m calling.”

“What happened? Jenny’s a really good driver.”

“My dad thinks a tire blew. He said that when the pavement’s hot as a barbecue grill for more than a few days, it’s hard on tires. He said a blowout on such a big car would make it really hard for someone as tiny as Jenny to control.”

“Oh, God, Hil, this is awful! Have you heard how bad they’re hurt?”

“No, not yet. But it
sounds
really bad. Dad said that when wires are down at an accident, it takes longer to get the … the victims out. Too dangerous for emergency personnel.”

“I just can’t believe it, Hil!”

“And Jenny was so excited this afternoon.” Hilary swallowed hard. “She’d asked Rob Lyle to your party. And he’d said yes. …”

Both girls fell silent, wondering if Jenny Winn would even be attending the party eleven short days away. How serious was “serious”?

“I can’t talk about this anymore,” Hilary said, breaking the silence. “Call me if you hear anything, okay?”

“I will. You, too.”

When the blue phone was back in its cradle, Megan sat on the bed, lost in shock and disbelief. Was it really true? Had her friends smashed into a utility pole? How scared they must have been! She couldn’t stand to think about them in pain, hurting, maybe scarred, maybe … dead? No, that couldn’t be. The announcer hadn’t mentioned a fatality. But “injured” was bad enough.

Shaking, she got up to remove the party dress. That made her wonder if Jenny had found “the perfect party dress” she’d been hunting for, and Megan burst into tears.

Suddenly Megan felt the temperature in her room plunge. The lights dimmed, sending the room into near-darkness, and the radio fell ominously silent.

Mouth and eyes wide open, Megan clutched at a bedpost. What was happening? An earthquake? A storm?

She was about to bolt for the door when a soft voice whispered, “Why are you crying, Megan Logan?”

Megan stopped in her tracks, unable to breathe.

The voice was faint and hollow, like the distant echo Megan’s own voice returned to her when she called out across the lake late at night.

“I said, why are you crying?”

M
EGAN LOOKED SLOWLY AROUND
the room. There was no one in it but her.

But when her eyes moved to the big oval mirror, she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. She backed rapidly away from the mirror until she bumped into the dresser, its fat white knobs poking her rudely in the back. And there she stood, transfixed. And completely, utterly terrified.

Instead of her own image, the glass was filled with a wispy, shadowy plume, faintly purple in color, weaving gently back and forth in the glass. Gradually, as Megan continued to stare with horror-stricken eyes, the plume began to take on a vaguely human shape. There were no facial features, only a bright golden glow where a person’s eyes, nose, and mouth would normally be. No arms or legs were apparent on the gauzy purple stream. It was like looking at a person from a great distance through a sheer, delicate veil.

I’ve fallen asleep, I’m having a nightmare, Megan told herself to silence her galloping heart.

“I asked why you were crying. You look very sad.”

Megan was freezing. The air coming in the window behind her was toaster-warm, yet within her room, it was as cold as an underground cavern. Every inch of her body was paralyzed with fear.

Megan struggled to find her voice. “What’s going on?” she whispered. “What’s happening?”

An eerie silvery glow began to surround the lavender plume, lighting it from behind. “I need to talk to you, Megan Logan. Don’t be scared. I won’t hurt you.”

“Who … what are you?” Megan croaked hoarsely. Her legs weren’t going to hold her up much longer. She felt that at any second she was going to collapse to the floor, completely helpless. Willing herself to remain upright, she repeated shakily, “What
are
you?”

The answer came softly, sweetly. “I am Juliet.”

Megan had spent countless hours sitting on the terrace roof shaded by the branches of the huge old oak tree. There she watched the clouds drifting in over the lake. She always found something interesting in each wad of cottony white, each slab of pale or dark gray, each sunset-pinked gossamer trail.

But now, staring in terror at the shapeless, wavy stream of lavender in her mirror, she saw nothing familiar, nothing ordinary, nothing to still her hammering heart. The only thing she could be sure of was that the voice coming from the wispy column was, like her own, feminine.

“Juliet? But … but …” Megan sank down on the bed, shivering. The room was so cold. Yet a stream of stultifying, breath-defying hot air continued to crawl in sluggishly through her open window.

This wasn’t happening. This
can’t
be happening, Megan thought.

The voice was soft as cobwebs. “You think I shouldn’t have a name?”

Without taking her eyes off the mirror, Megan slowly reached out and pulled the comforter from her bed, wrapping herself in it. The lighting in the room remained dim, while the silvery glow in the mirror seemed to deepen. “Go away,” Megan whispered. “Whoever — whatever you are, I don’t want you here. You don’t belong here.”

“I can’t. I’ve got to talk to you, Megan. And you’ve got to listen to me. It’s important.”

“No,” Megan said in a mere whisper. She wanted to cry out for her parents, or her brother, but she knew the shout would never escape her frozen throat. “I don’t want to.”

Sadness sounded in the voice, and bitter disappointment. “You won’t listen to me? No, oh, no, that can’t be! I was sure you would. I’ve waited so long. So very long …” The voice trailed off, the silvery glow began to dim.

“You’ve waited? For me?” Confusion added to Megan’s fear. “Where? Where did you wait? Where did you come from?”

“I come from another time, another place. I’m here now, that’s all that matters.”

“How did you get into that mirror?”

The voice gathered strength as Megan began to respond. The silvery light throbbed, brightening again. “The mirror isn’t important. It doesn’t mean anything. I’m only using it so you can see me.”

“But I don’t
want
to see you!” Megan cried. “I don’t want you here! Just go away!”

“Please, Megan, please, all I ask is that you listen. It would mean so much to me.”

Only the possibility that she had fallen asleep and was caught in a horrible nightmare kept Megan from fleeing the room. That, and the mesmerizing quality of the plume’s plaintive voice as it begged her to listen.

“You’re getting ready for your party?” the voice said. “Pretty dress.”

Megan said nothing.

“You’re wondering how I know about your birthday. I know because it’s my birthday, too. We share that. That’s one of the reasons I can talk with you. But we weren’t born in the same year.”

Megan was seized by a fresh chill. The thing in the mirror had had a birthday? It had once been born, had lived, had maybe been a young girl like Megan?

But … if that was what it had
been,
what was it
now?

Struggling, she managed to ask, “When? When
were
you born?”

“Nineteen thirty.”

“Nineteen thirty?” Sixty-one years ago. But the voice was not that of a sixty-one-year-old woman. It was as young as Megan’s.

“That dress really is pretty.”

Megan looked down in surprise, as if someone had slipped the dress on her when she wasn’t looking. The blue-green skirt peeked out from beneath the blue print comforter.

They had both been speaking in near-whispers, but now, the voice in the mirror gained strength. “I had a new dress for my sixteenth birthday party, too,” it added wistfully. “My dress was blue like yours, but a darker shade, like the night sky. It was taffeta. It crackled when I walked. I loved that sound. I was having an orchestra at my party, and colored lanterns strung above the lawn, and napkins with my initials on them.”

Megan was clenching her fists so tightly around the comforter, her knuckles looked bleached. The … thing in the mirror had had a birthday party?

Suddenly the plume became very agitated, jerking erratically from side to side. “But I never had my party,” the voice said mournfully. “It was canceled.”

A wave of skin-scorching heat blew in Megan’s Window, but she scarcely noticed. The agitation in the mirror terrified her. It … the plume … Juliet … was becoming very upset. I should leave, she thought numbly. I should run, right now, get out of this room. But fear had turned her body to stone.

An anguished sob filled the room. “There was an accident. A bad one.”

The light around the plume dimmed, and the room became lost in shadow. An owl in the oak tree beside the terrace hooted. Megan jumped, startled by the sound. She spoke automatically, as if in a trance. “An accident?”

“A boating accident. Out there on the lake, in that cove just around the bend. Do you know the place?”

Megan knew it well. Most lake people avoided it because of the rocks, some jutting up above the water, most hidden beneath it. At the bottom of the lake there was a treacherous tangle of undergrowth and weeds lying in wait to imprison whatever might come its way. The cove had a history of boat wrecks and drownings.

Was this … Juliet … saying she was a part of that tragic history?

Megan waited with growing dread. Something terrible had happened to the thing in the mirror. She knew it. She didn’t want to know what that something terrible was.

“Our boat hit a rock. I hadn’t had time to learn to swim, but it wouldn’t have helped. I was thrown overboard and knocked unconscious. My body became tangled in the undergrowth. By the time I was pulled from the water … it was too late …

“I never made it to my party,” the voice whispered sadly. “But … it was all a long time ago. Forty-six years ago. Such a long time …”