The Dreamstalker (7 page)

Kerr poured himself a cup of coffee and slid in beside his mother. “You're strong, Karen. Much stronger than I am. If anything happened to you, I couldn't keep living. But you could live without me. You'll be able to handle this. I know you will.” He grasped her hand and squeezed it tight.

Karen appreciated Kerr's words, was touched by his concern, but it was going to take more than words to make her accept Jesse's death. She had nothing to say to either of them.

“Tell her, Mom. Tell Karen how strong she is. Tell us about how she was when we were little.”

Their mother loved to talk about them when they were babies and small children. She didn't need much encouragement.

“Karen did everything first. She was the first to walk. But she wouldn't leave you behind, Kerr. She made you walk. She kept reaching out to you, jabbering, waving her hand at you, until you took that first step. As soon as you saw you could do it, you did. Then you followed her everywhere.”

Kerr laughed in delight. He put his arm around his mother. “What else?”

“She talked a blue streak. You really didn't start talking until you were almost five, Kerr. But then, you didn't have to. Karen talked enough for both of you. If you wanted something, or she thought you needed it, she asked for it for you. She'd say, ‘Mama, Kerr wants a cookie. Kerr wants some juice. Kerr wants that shirt, that toy.' She picked out clothes for both of you since she was three.”

“Tell about when we went to school.” Kerr kept the stories coming.

“The school had a policy of separating twins. They wouldn't let them be in the same room. I knew it wouldn't work. But they wouldn't listen to me. It was school policy. You know how they are.”

“What did I do?”

“You caused so much trouble, your teacher probably wished she'd never heard of you. She was always having to send for Karen to help her out. Sometimes you'd just cry until Karen came into the room. Finally the two teachers asked to make an exception to the rule. They gave up on keeping the two of you apart.”

Kerr laughed again. “Tell about junior high.”

“Stop it, Kerr, stop it!” Karen had heard enough. “Why are you doing this? Why are you making Mother talk about us this morning?”

“You need to hear this, Karen. You need to remember how strong you were, how strong you are. It's me that's weak. You can do anything you want to do.”

Karen wanted to be alone. Leaving her breakfast untouched, she jumped up and ran upstairs. Locking her door, she dressed quickly in jeans and hiking boots. She found where she'd tossed her down parka and pulled it on. Where was her red stocking cap? She couldn't find it, so she tied a scarf around her head.

Hurrying down the stairs, ready to stop Kerr if he asked to go with her, she let herself out the front door, and trudged up the road, and into the woods near their house. The snow was so deep she could hardly wade through it. Maybe she should crumple into it and sleep. She could join Jesse, not have to face all of this.

She didn't know how long she struggled to walk, falling several times, but she kept on until she was exhausted. There was something in her that made her keep going, wouldn't let her give up. Maybe she could go home and sleep some more. If she could sleep, she could escape. Or could she? Would she dream of Jesse? Would she have to see him go down again?

Kerr sat waiting for her when she got back to the house. She felt weak and knew she had to eat something, even though she had little appetite. He waited at the kitchen table, as if he had been there since she'd fled the scene at what passed for breakfast.

“Your cheeks are red, Karen. You're so beautiful.”

Karen couldn't ignore him. “That's a rather conceited remark, since you look just like me.” She had a sharpness in her voice she couldn't contain. It was just that she didn't want Kerr trying to help her anymore. Why couldn't he understand that she needed to be alone?

“Well, not exactly. Dark curly hair, dark brown eyes, perfect skin, red cheeks—that all looks better on you.”

Karen closed the refrigerator door. “Kerr, I need to be alone. Can you do that for me? Stop helping me. Give me some time, some space.”

Kerr sat quietly, staring at his hands.

“Okay. If that's what you want.” He got up and left the room. Grabbing a coat from beside the back door, he ran to the driveway, jumped in his car, and pulled out of the drive. Karen wondered where he was going. But she couldn't care. She was relieved to have him go. He was going to have to do without her until—how long? She had to be strong for herself. She had to help herself now. Surely he could understand that.

Alysia came over in the afternoon. She didn't say much. What could anyone say? She hugged Karen and sat with her in front of some movie on TV that neither of them remembered later.

“Can I go home with you, Alysia?” Karen asked. “Kerr is working so hard to be nice to me, I can't take it. Mom seems to care, but she doesn't know what to do.”

“Sure, Karen. Let's pack for several days. You can hide out in my room as long as you want. Mom will understand.”

Karen stayed at Alysia's for a week. She didn't know why, she just felt more comfortable there. Mrs. Holland didn't mind. She made Karen welcome and even gave her a key in case she and Alysia didn't come home together. They went to Karen's for more clothes. Karen's mother didn't question Karen's being gone. Karen told her she was staying at Alysia's, and Mom said okay. Maybe she was relieved to have Karen gone. Then she didn't have to worry about what to do for her.

Kerr obviously took her absence personally. He wouldn't speak to her at school. He avoided her. Why was he acting like that? She wanted to scream at him, pound on him.

A grief counselor came to their classes. She talked a lot, but Karen heard little of what she said. Words didn't help. Maybe time would, but that was hard to believe now.

Kerr did take her and Alysia to Jesse's memorial service. A lot of the school was there. Evergreen was still a pretty small community, even with the Denver commuter families pushing up the population. Karen listened to the pieces that were read. She heard what the minister said. She heard what friends said to her afterward. She heard what Mr. Goddard said. He talked about trying to go on without Jesse. He talked about how Jesse loved football. How he died doing what he liked to do. How skilled he was, and how he'd have gotten a scholarship for sure. Mr. Goddard told Karen he planned to move to Denver. He said he couldn't stay in their house alone. It had been too large for a long time anyway. He was putting it up for sale.

Through all this, Karen had her dream, its strange coincidence, blocked out. But not the skating. She remembered that, thought about it. Thought it a strange thing for Kerr to have done. Yet in some ways she appreciated it. She understood that Kerr didn't know what to do. He had helped her in a way only he could have thought of.

One day, she had stayed out of school. She had walked in the woods that morning, finding deer trails through the deep drifts, stomping out paths where there were none. And that afternoon she had driven herself to the lake. She had skated alone. Being outside, moving, doing something—anything—seemed to be the only activity that healed a little. For a short time, she stood at the edge of the lake near the rope and the sign that said,
THIN ICE.
She watched as a Stellar's jay came to peck for water at the mushy stream which fed the lake. A flock of house finches took their turn. It was obvious that other animals came there in the night to paw out puddles and drink. They found a way to survive in the unusual cold of this winter. Karen knew she had to keep looking for a way to survive the frigid grief that knotted her stomach, that made her feel brittle and afraid.

It was during psychology class that everything came in on her. They were talking about dream symbols.

“There is one cardinal rule about dreaming. Everything in your dream is an aspect of you. Sometimes a dream is trying to tell you something. It's buried in your subconscious, and this is the only way it can get out.” Professor McArthur twiddled with a rubber band while he talked. “There is no such thing as a bad dream,” he continued. “A frightening dream is trying to get your attention.”

“How can you say that?” Karen screamed, jumping to her feet. “How can you say there are no bad dreams? There are! There are!” She started to shake and the pent-up tears roared to life, swelling, tumbling, turning her to a shivering mass.

Professor McArthur moved toward her, but Kerr reached her first. He put his arms around her.

“Go away, Kerr Leave me alone. Don't touch me! Don't anyone touch me!” She felt him react with shock. His fear, his pain came in on hers, doubling her hysteria.

“Kerr, all of you. Leave. Quickly. Class is dismissed for the day.” When the class was empty, Dr. McArthur took hold of Karen, held her so tightly she couldn't move, couldn't lash out. “I'm sorry, Karen, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry.” Over and over he repeated the words, quietly soothing her. “I didn't realize what I said was going to confuse you, that you'd react personally. I wasn't thinking about what you've been through.”

When she was able to speak, her dream about Jesse poured out. “I dreamed about Jesse, Dr. McArthur. The night he died. I fell asleep beside his bed. I was there, I was there when he died. I saw them kill him. One of them was dark, so dark. He hit Jesse. He killed him.”

“Jesse died of a football injury, Karen.”

She ignored the statement. “How can you say everything in the dream is a part of me? I didn't want Jesse dead. I didn't kill him. How could I do that? I didn't, did I, Dr. McArthur? Tell me I didn't kill Jesse!”

Chapter 9

“Karen, you didn't kill Jesse. I know you didn't. I promise you, you didn't. Let me hear you say it! ‘I didn't kill Jesse. He died of a football injury.' Dreams don't kill, Karen. Accidents do, people do. Jesse's death was an accident.”

“But why, why did I dream it?” She collapsed back into her seat.

“I don't know, Karen.” Dr. McArthur leaned on another desk top. “Perhaps you have suppressed your dreams for so long because they frightened you, and now that you are remembering, they're even more vivid. You are such a sensitive person, Karen. You take in everything around you, keep it inside. It comes out in your dreams, sometimes more intensely than if you let yourself feel it, experience it in everyday life. I suspect your fear caused you to dream about Jesse. You were afraid he was going to die.”

“How—how about Gordon? I didn't know he was going to die.”

“Not on a conscious level, perhaps. I don't know. A coincidence? You may have heard him say something, or been aware of his feelings without knowing about it. There are people, Karen, who are much more sensitive to receiving, who pick up on other people's thoughts, feelings much more than others. If that's so, you will have to learn to protect yourself.”

Feeling confused, but glad that she'd told someone about Jesse, Karen stood up. “I'm going home. I'm sorry I went to pieces in class.”

“Don't try to keep everything inside, Karen. If you'd like to stay after school and talk to me or call me anytime, please do so. I care about you.”

“Thank you, Dr. McArthur.”

Kerr had waited for Karen. He stepped in front of her as she came out. She looked up to see that most of the class had waited. She felt silly and felt her face heating up.

“Let's all go skating before dinner.” Kerr took hold of Karen's arm. “Bill, Easy, let's go skating.”

“I've got football practice, man,” Easy said. The team had won the game that Jesse left. Then, instead of giving up because they lost Jesse, they had adopted a win-for-Jesse attitude. They were determined to capture the state championship in their division.

Bill had taken over as quarterback. “Me, too, Kerr. Another time.” He smiled at Alysia, who stood beside Karen.

Alysia looked at Karen with a question in her eyes. “My skates are in the car. It might be good for you.”

“I can't, Kerr.” Karen was lying to Kerr, and he knew it. “Alysia and I have that project do for chemistry, and we'd better work on that. Tell Mom I'm staying the night at her place.”

“You've hardly been home lately, Karen.” Kerr stopped just short of begging. “It's lonely there without you.”

“Don't be silly. We're all busy, since this is our last school year.” Karen pushed Alysia ahead of her, and they headed for their lockers.

“You really are avoiding being at home, aren't you, Karen?” Alysia asked as they climbed into her old Suburu and drove to her place. “Is there anything you haven't told me?”

“Oh, not really. Kerr has been so sympathetic, I can't stand it. You know how it is when someone works too hard to help you handle a problem, is too understanding. It makes it worse. I don't want anyone treating me any different because Jesse died. Kerr acts as if he has to take care of me.”

“I don't know anyone more capable of taking care of herself.” Alysia shifted into low to climb the hill to her driveway.

“Sometimes I'm not so sure, Alysia. I feel so confused. That was so dumb for me to break down in class.”

“Not dumb, Karen. It was normal. You've been holding too much inside. No one can do that forever.”

Inside, Alysia built a fire in the fireplace. They did have a chemistry project to work on, but they were almost finished. Spreading it out on the nearby dining table, they fortified themselves with Cokes and chips, background music of U2, and went to work.

Mrs. Holland came home from work and flopped into a big chair, kicking off her high-heeled boots. “I need a vacation. Why don't we all fly down to Bermuda for the weekend?”

Alysia and Karen laughed. “We're game. It's supposed to snow again.”