The Waiting: A Supernatural Thriller (3 page)

Evan laughed and sipped at his beer. Jason, always with the plan, always looking out for him. He recalled the day of Elle’s funeral. The sunshine beating against his black suit in mock joy as the long
, honey-colored box dropped away into the darkness of the earth. He would’ve fallen to his knees right then if Jason hadn’t had his arm tight around his shoulders.

“What do you say?” Jason asked
, finishing his beer.

“I say
, your intentions are good and I love you, but no. Our home is here, Shaun’s treatments are here, even our problems are here, and that’s something I have to deal with. I’ll have to readjust, that’s all. I’ll find work again, I’m a little shell-shocked right now. I mean, I hit a guy today, broke his nose.”

“L
ittle bastard deserved more than that.”

“Yeah, he did, but that’s not like me. I need to decompress and things will seem better in the morning.”

Jason sighed and nodded. “Okay, okay. Just know the offer is out there. I won’t start looking for a new guy for another two weeks.”

“Thank you
.”

“No, than
k you for getting these beers.”

“Yeah, leave the unempl
oyed guy with the check, nice.”

Jason grinned and dropped a fifty on the table before standing.
His eyes sobered. “Are you going to be okay?”

“We’ll be fine.”

Evan stood and gave Jason a rough hug. As he watched his friend move out the door and into the afternoon drizzle, he wondered if Jason believed his last words any more than he did.

3

Evan shut the minivan off and watched the falling rain bead on the windshield and run in silver rivulets.

His house glowed. Each window looked like a rectangle cut from the sun. Shaun’s PCA, Farah, always turned on every light she could find.
During the first months of her employment, her habit drove him nuts. He would come home from work and spend ten minutes pacing through the house, flipping switches and turning knobs. But after a time, the sight of the lights burning in the windows wasn’t irritating anymore; it became a welcoming that he looked forward to each time he pulled into the driveway.

Thoughts of what he would say to Farah when he went inside barraged him, making him feel like he’d
consumed more beer than he had.

Lightning threaded across the sky, flickering in pulses that lit up the
neighbors’ yards. Rain hammered against the roof of the car, and he decided to make a run for it before the storm intensified further. The icy drops were like cold needles as he jogged to the front door and slid inside, the warmth and dryness of the house embracing him. Evan peeled his soaking jacket off and threw it in the dryer, listening to the sounds of dishes being stacked in cabinets. When he entered the kitchen, he saw Farah straining to put away the heavy crockpot on a high shelf, her round body shaking with effort.

“Jeez, Farah, let me help you,” Evan said
, hurrying across the kitchen and taking the crockpot from her hands.

“Oh, I would’ve got it, I’m just short
, that’s all. Put it up there every other time, you know.”

Evan closed the cabinet door and turned to his son’s PCA. The retired nurse looked like the embodiment of Mrs. Claus
, with her curled white hair and miniature features. The red color in her cheeks from the effort of lifting the crockpot only furthered the likeness.

“I know, and I’ve told you, you don’t have to put away the dishes.”

Farah waved a hand at him and grasped a gallon of milk from the counter. She stowed it in the refrigerator. “Shauny’s resting, so I thought I’d do something useful until you got home. Nice that it’s Friday, huh? Glad to be done with work?”

Evan opened his mouth, an insane giggle wanting to burst out
. “Yes, definitely,” he said, sitting at the kitchen table. He pulled off his damp socks.

Farah paused
. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah
, perfect,” he said, without raising his head. “How was he today?”

“Very good.
He did magnificent at physical therapy, took a dozen steps using only the rolling walker.”

“That’s great
. Did we get anything in the mail from the doctor?”

Farah
walked to the counter and sifted through a short stack of envelopes. Evan eyed the pile with distaste; no doubt, it contained mostly bills and past-due letters.

“Ah, yep, here you go,” Farah said
, handing him a thick envelope.

He
took the letter and set it on the table. “I asked for more information on the seizures he had two weeks ago. I wanted to know if that’s something we can look forward to from now on.”

Sickness soured his stomach
as the memory of Shaun shaking and jittering on the floor washed over him. The overwhelming helplessness of that morning hadn’t diminished in the least.

“I asked Lindsey today if seizures were common with TBI, and she said that
they were.”

“I knew they were
, but he’d never had one before, so ...”

Farah nodded. “W
e also did some flash cards this afternoon, he remembered ‘hammer’ and ‘window’ this time, so that was good. He had a bath, and he ate great at supper. He wanted to watch one of his little shows, so I put one in, and the poor thing didn’t even make it through the credits before he fell asleep on the couch.” Farah’s face crinkled with a smile, her eyes glimmering warmth.

It wasn’t the first time, or the hundredth, Evan felt
a swelling of appreciation at having such a wonderful caretaker for Shaun. But the stabbing knowledge that he might have to let her go became too much, and he stood, moving through the archway to the living room.

Shaun sat propped against two overstuffed pillows on the couch. The dancing light from the TV illuminated his son’s delicate face with myriad
colors. Evan knelt beside the couch and took one of Shaun’s soft hands in his own. Shaun’s light hair fell in a sweep across his forehead, and Evan brushed it away. It was longer than normal, another reminder of Elle’s absence. She used to always cut Shaun’s hair, in his medical chair under the bright lights of the kitchen. Evan remembered the sound of Shaun’s laughter as his hair fell beneath the clips of Elle’s scissors, his small legs kicking with glee.

Shaun’s eyes opened into slits
, and Evan blinked back a layer of tears, determined not to cry in front of his son again.

“Hi
, buddy.”

Shaun smiled, gr
ipping his hand tighter. “Da.”

“How was your day?”

Shaun’s mouth worked, and he licked his lips. After a few moments of struggling, his forehead wrinkled. “Yesh,” he said, and frowned.

“Farah said you did great today. She said you walked a mile.”

Shaun giggled and wiped at his eyes, tried to sit up but only managed to slide down farther into the pillows.

“Here, buddy,” Evan said
, hoisting him into a better sitting position. “You can go back to sleep again if you want.”

Shaun shook his
head and pointed at the TV. “Tains.”

Evan glanced at the television
, where Thomas the Train raced along beside another tank engine.

“Okay, you watch your trains,” Evan said
, and tousled his son’s hair, feeling the rough scar tissue on the left side of his scalp.

When he turned
, he saw Farah watching them from the kitchen. She moved aside to let him pass, but her eyes remained on the little boy.

“He’s doing so g
ood,” Farah said, finally turning away.

“Yes
, he is. I think we’ll try tracing again tonight, if he’s up to it.”

“
Sounds like a plan. Well, I should get home to Steve, he’ll be worried, what with the storm. But I whipped up some hot dish, it’s in the fridge.”

“Thank you,” Evan said
.

He followed
her to the foyer, where she donned a plain set of slip-on boots as well as a light jacket.

“I’ll see you both Monday morning then, bright and early,” Farah said
, gripping the door handle. She glanced at Evan and must have seen something flit across his face, because she stopped, her eyes penetrating. “Are you okay?”

He swallowed. “Yeah, long day.”

Farah smiled sadly and grasped his arm in her short fingers. “You’re doing splendid, you know?”

“Am I?”

“Yes. When I met you, you were in a terrible place, with challenges most people never even think of, but you and Shaun are strong. You’ve both got stout spirits, as my father used to say.” She squeezed his arm. “You’re doing great.”

He
smiled and put his hand over hers. “We wouldn’t have made it without you.”

Farah released her hold and made a batting motion with her hand. “Pah, I just make sure you both don’t starve.” She turned
, and pulled the door open to the storm. “I’ll see you Monday,” she said, and was gone in a whirl of wind that spit rain onto the floor before she shut the door.

“Monday,” Evan said, not liking the dead sound of his voice in the empty hall
, as thunder rolled in a renewed wave outside.

~

They spent the rest of the evening playing. Evan helped Shaun to the table, holding his son’s hands in his own while Shaun walked in an awkward limp to his chair. After strapping him in, Evan dealt out a game of brightly colored, numbered cards designed to stimulate eye focus and cognitive function. They played for an hour, Shaun’s laughter echoing through the warmth of the house while the rain poured down outside and thunder shook the roof from time to time.

When Evan finally glanced at the clock
, he saw that it was eight thirty, a half hour past Shaun’s bedtime. They proceeded through their evening ritual. He helped Shaun go to the bathroom, steadying him on the toilet so he wouldn’t fall off. He brushed his son’s teeth and combed his hair, then carried him into his room, Shaun’s eyes already beginning to close.

“Moon?” Shaun asked
, as Evan tucked him beneath his blankets.

“Moon?” Evan smiled. “
Goodnight Moon
?”

“Moon
,” Shaun said. His small face brightened as Evan pulled the ever-present book from the bedside table and began to read.

Before the third page
, Shaun’s breathing became deep, his eyelids closed, and an occasional snore drifted out of his open mouth.

“Night
, buddy,” Evan said, folding the book closed before returning it to its place. He leaned down and kissed Shaun’s forehead, the boy’s skin soft and cool, always smelling of soap. “We’re going to be okay, son, Daddy’s going to make sure.”

Evan hesitated, his eyes becoming watery again. Without needing to look, he reached to the table and snapped the baby monitor on and stood. The storm had quieted
, and now only a light drizzle fell in slithering streams against the windows. He watched Shaun for a moment longer, then moved to the door, swinging it partially shut but not closed.

~

He walks down the hallway, the doors to either side of him bustling and beeping with life and activity, his eyes searching for her room number. He feels flattened inside, ironed by the foreknowledge that something is terribly wrong. There it is—436. He angles inside and sees the doctor with white hair sitting on a stool, one hand on the desk, the other perched on Elle’s knee. Tears on her face, not good ones, the sad kind. She looks up and he knows.

He knows
.

~

He came awake, opening his eyes to the darkness of the room, his breath still calm in his chest, his heart not beating too fast. He licked his lips and rolled to the side, Elle’s side—
so empty—
and checked Shaun’s monitor. The low hiss of white noise and soft breathing came from its speaker. Evan lay back, closing his eyes again, but couldn’t help himself and glanced at the clock:
5:33
.

He walked to the kitchen, gazed out of the windows
, and watched the horizon change from shadow upon shadow to tinged gray to a mushroom of golden light growing with each minute in the east. His eyes never left the glow, and when the first edge of sun cut the new day into dawn, he picked up his cell phone, hitting a single button to dial the number.

“My God,
it’s called sleep, you should try it sometime,” Jason said, his voice thick.

Evan smile
d a little. “When can I start?”

4

Long Lake appeared on the right when Evan least expected it.