Chapter Two

 

"I can't believe how lucky I got today in finding everything I wanted," Vicki crowed as they drove home late that afternoon. "Thank goodness that dress was on sale. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been able to get those shoes to go with it."

"True, you couldn't have lived without the shoes," Libby murmured. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror attached to the sun visor. To her the deep coral lipstick, smoky green eye shadow and matching liner, and tawny blush looked garish to her. It had been some time since she had bothered with makeup. She never felt as if she had the energy or inclination for the time it took to add color to her cheeks and lips.

Except for that brief moment in front of the children's clothing store, she hadn't thought of her baby once all afternoon. Pain sliced through her body. She could feel the moisture gathering at the comers of her eyes and a tight sensation low in her belly. How could she forget so easily?

"Don't!" There was a sharpness in Vicki's voice that hadn't been there before. "We had a fun day out and I'm not going to let you ruin it."

Libby ordinarily would have snapped back at her, but her gaze was fixed on the fifth house from the comer of the street Vicki had turned down on. Her house. A blue Explorer and black pickup truck were parked in the driveway. The back door of the Explorer was open, revealing several boxes. More boxes were piled in the back of the pickup, along with pieces of furniture.

"Let me out," she ordered, grabbing hold of the door handle.

Vicki grasped her arm as she slowed the car. Libby whipped her head around and stared at her sister with a look so fierce the younger woman recoiled from her.

'We only wanted to help," she whispered.

"If you want to help, stay out of my life."

Libby pushed open the door and climbed out so fast she stumbled and almost fell on the road. She quickly regained her balance and ran down the sidewalk to her house. She pushed the front door open and ran in, deliberately ignoring her sister's frantic pleas as she started toward the back of the house, where she could hear voices.

The room was now empty of furniture, with the exception of a few half-filled boxes placed near the door. Libby's mother was in the midst of carefully wrapping the bear night-light in paper and placing it in a box. Tyler, bent over sealing a box with packing tape, had his back to Libby.

"I guess this is it," he said.

Marie Bennett looked up and saw Libby standing in the doorway. "Tyler," she murmured in warning.

He turned and stared at his wife.

"What do you think you're doing?" Libby demanded in a low voice, advancing on them.

"It had to be done, sweetheart," he said, reaching out to restrain her. "We knew how difficult it would be for you, so Marie came over to help me."

Libby shook off his hand as if it was something disgusting. "You had no right!"

"Elizabeth, you can no longer live in the past. You need to go forward," her mother said firmly. "Don't wall yourself off from life, from having more children. You and Tyler deserve a large family. That's what the two of you have always wanted."

"Why? So we can go through this pain again?" Libby asked, her voice rising in pitch. "So I have two graves to visit instead of one? Three? Four?”

"Stop it, Libby!" Tyler spoke in a low, firm voice. "We all hurt from this and all you've done is allow the pain to fester. I love you and I can't allow you to keep on this way."

Libby shook her head as she slowly backed away from him.

"Why are you doing this, Tyler?" she asked in a little-girl voice filled with pain. "You know how important she was to me. How I loved her."

His face was also filled with pain and sorrow, but something else was there that tore at Libby.

Pity. For her.

"Don't look at me like that!" she snapped. "You all act as if I've lost my wits. Well, I haven't. There is no set mourning period in the rule books. In some cultures, you can mourn forever. I will not forget my child!"

"Then why won't you say her name?" He stepped closer to her. "All you ever say is 'my baby,' when you should at least say our baby, but you never say her name."

Horror crossed her face as his words sunk in.

"How can you be so cruel?" she whispered. "Her name is engraved in my heart."

"Honey, it may feel cruel now, but the time will come when you'll understand." Marie moved forward, her arms outstretched to embrace her daughter.

Libby backed up even more. "Why can't you just let me handle this myself?" She kept backing up until she stood in the doorway.

"Because you aren't handling it," Tyler replied in a pleading tone.

She shook her head. "I am handling it. It's the rest of you who aren't." She spun around and ran out of the house.

"Libby!" He started after her, but Marie grabbed hold of his arm.

"Let her go, Tyler," she said softly. "She needs to be alone and think all this through. Once she's had a chance to consider everything she'll realize we did this for her. That we only wanted to spare her any more pain." She patted his arm and moved away to seal the last box. "Vicki, would you take this out to the truck for me, please?" She handed it to her other daughter, then stood up on her toes and pressed a kiss against Tyler's cheek. "We'll see you Saturday night, dear."

After they had gone, he stood in the now empty room, listening to the sound of the front door closing. He remembered the pain etched on Libby's face as she'd realized he and her mother had cleared out the nursery.

"She's my first and last love," he said out loud. "From that first time I saw Libby dressed in a pink snowsuit, her hair pulled back in braids, and a red nose I knew I was going to marry her when we grew up. As far as I was concerned, there was never anyone else. She was the first girl I ever kissed, my first lover. I don't want to lose her."

He glanced at the clock to check the time. No matter what his mother-in-law had said about leaving Libby alone, he was only going to give her another half hour before going out to look for her. Knowing Libby as well as he did, he figured she was at the park a few blocks away.

He had an idea tonight they were going to have the fight they'd never had. But maybe it was for the best if he wanted to get his old Libby back.

 

LIBBY WAS INDEED at the park, with her coat buttoned all the way up to her chin to ward off the cold, although she was so angry she really didn't feel the chill. She sat in a swing, using her foot to push it back and forth.

"Why can't they leave me alone?" she muttered. Why did everyone have to tell her how she was supposed to lead her life?

It might have something to do with their loving you so much.

Her head whipped one way, then the other to find the source of the voice-the same one she had heard that morning.

"I refuse to believe there's a voice talking to me inside my head."

I am not exactly talking to you inside your head. Oh; my, you women are difficult.

Libby stilled. "All right, what's the joke?"

A heavy sigh preceded the next statement, There is no joke. I have been sent here to help you. From what I have seen so far, my dear, you need a great deal of assistance.

She looked around, but could see nothing in the twilight. Not a shadow of a person standing nearby. She was alone in the park. There weren't even any bushes nearby that could hide someone who might want to play a cruel trick on her.

"Fine, my imagination has decided to take a vacation and fly to la la land," she said. "Now I'm talking to an invisible man."

What I am is a higher being, an entity sent to help you.

"Which is probably another word for a doctor sent by my parents or my husband," she muttered, pumping her legs back and forth to get the swing going.

I am here strictly for you. The deep sigh was heard again. Women are so difficult to deal with. The last woman I assisted was positive I was from outer space. I blame the media for all these fantasies.

"Oh, I get it. You're my guardian angel. How comforting that thought is. It's a good thing I'm out here alone so no one can see me talking to myself." She laughed, not really finding it humorous.

No, angels are another department entirely. I am someone who only comes to help when it appears there is no other recourse for that mortal. And you, my dear Libby, definitely fit in that category. And here I thought Allie/Brianna was a problem.

“Then why don’t you just show yourself, wave your wand or whatever and leave me to do with my life as I wish?” At that moment, she felt a hand planted against her back pushing her forward. The swing swept upward. “All right! All right!” She put her feet down to stop the swing, skidding slightly in the dirt. “If you’re not a figment of my imagination, you’ll show yourself to me.”

Materializing is not a part of my job description. That sounded pretty smug.

Libby smiled in triumph. "Then you're not real. And I would say in about ten minutes Tyler will come over here, tell me he's sorry for what he's done and that he wants me to come back to the house with him."

And what do you want?

Libby took a deep breath. Perhaps talking to herself wasn't so bad, after all. She could say what she wanted out loud and there was no one to censor her thoughts. She might even feel better after she'd gotten it out of her system.

"I want them to leave me alone. I want them to stop pretending Sara doesn't exist any longer. I want to live my own life without them telling me what's good for me," she stated.

That sounds like something an adolescent would say in order to have his or her own way. Will you stamp your foot and threaten to hold your breath until you turn blue if you don’t get your way?

She shook her head. "No, it's just that they don't realize how important Sara was to me, and I can't give her up just because they tell me to."

What about Tyler? Is he not also important to you?

Libby felt a pang in the vicinity of her heart.

"He's very important to me," she said softly. "But Sara was a wonderful part of both of us. She had my eyes and Tyler's grin. And we had such plans for her."

And now you're angry at the world because she was taken away from you.

Libby straightened up at that statement. "Yes. I am," she admitted. "It wasn't fair that she died."

And you'd be happier if they all left you alone so you could grieve for your child in peace.

Libby took a deep breath. "Yes."

The moment she spoke, a cold wind sliced through her and she could see flurries of white drift around her.

"There wasn't anything in the weather reports about snow tonight." she murmured, tucking her hands in her coat pockets.

Perhaps it would be a good time for you to return home.

Libby pushed herself out of the swing and stood up. As she walked out of the park, she noticed the snow flurries were getting heavier, as if they were trying to wrap themselves around her. She was grateful for her heavy coat as she reached the sidewalk.

"You'd think Tyler would see the snow falling and drive down to pick me up," she grumbled, ducking her head. "He had to have known I'd be here."

Considering the way you've been behaving lately, you should be grateful he is even willing to speak to you.

"There's nothing worse than a smart-ass voice," she practically snarled.

Amazing. My last subject called me a voice with an attitude. Pride filled his words.

"I can see why." She reached the end of her block and started up it. The streetlights had just come on to battle the early evening darkness. "I can't believe how quickly this began. If it keeps up, the snowplows will have to come out to clear the streets."

Perhaps. Perhaps not.

"Riddles. Now he gives me riddles." Libby slowed her steps as she approached the house she thought was hers. It was hers, wasn't it? Yes, the right numbers were painted on the exterior by the front door, but even in the dim light she could see the color wasn't the same pale green with a dark green trim she and Tyler had painted it a year ago.

Something was wrong. Why was her house now dark blue with gray trim? Whose motorcycle was in the driveway? And why all that loud music? She punched the doorbell once, then several times more. The moment the door opened, she wished she hadn't been so eager to get inside. The man standing before her wore tight jeans that couldn't contain the belly hanging over it. His leather vest, worn with no shirt underneath, displayed the variety of tattoos dappling his forearms.

"Hey there, gorgeous, you here for the party?"

He leered at her as he held up a beer can in a hand the size of a small ham. Alcoholic wafts from his open mouth nearly knocked her over.

Libby couldn't stop staring back. Behind him, she could see a small crowd of men and women all drinking and dancing. She didn't recognize any of them. She shook her head and backed away.

"Well, hell, come on in!" he boomed, waving his beer can around. "The more the merrier."

"No," she whispered, still backing away.

Come along, Libby.

"What's wrong?" she whispered, once she reached the street.

Put your hand in your right pocket.

Libby did as she was told. Her fingers closed around cold metal, its sharp edges digging into her skin. She pulled it out and saw it was a key with a plastic tag hanging from it.

"This is from the Willow Hills Motel," she murmured.

I suggest you pick up your pace, so you can return to your room before it gets much colder and you turn into an icicle.

"My room? Why do I have a motel key in my pocket? Where's Tyler? Why are all those strangers in my house? Why is it a different color? Where are all my flowers covered to protect them from the snow?" she asked in a lostlittle-girl voice.

Go to the motel, Libby. I will explain it all when we arrive there. I promise.

Libby felt as if she were walking through cotton wool as she left the house she had thought her own and headed in the direction of the main part of town. Strangely, she didn't feel cold any longer as she walked the many blocks toward the motel. She just put one foot in front of the other and kept on walking.

Your room is at the rear of the motel.

Libby inserted the key in the lock. The door opened to reveal a small room with a neatly made king-size bed. Three suitcases sat on the floor and the bathroom light was on. She slowly stepped inside and closed the door behind her. After her chilly walk, the hot air blasting at her felt welcome. She peeled off her coat and laid it across the chair.

"What is going on?" It wasn't until then that she happened to look down at her left hand. It was bare of any jewelry. She cried out in shock and rubbed her third finger. There wasn't even an indentation in the skin to indicate she had ever worn a ring there.

"Where is my ring?" She looked around wildly, as if it would gleam in the darkness to help her find it. "It couldn't have just slipped off!"

Why don't you sit down while I explain this to you.

She sat, but couldn't stop rubbing her bare ring finger.

"Fine, I'm sitting down. Now, if you're not a figment of my imagination, you‘Il make yourself visible and tell me why my house doesn't look the same and why there were strangers there. And why I'm not wearing my wedding ring." Hysteria rose up inside her.

I am not in the habit of making myself visible just because someone insists upon it.

"I'm this far-" she held her thumb and forefinger up a scant inch apart, " from screaming bloody murder. Let's make it easier for both of us, shall we?"

Libby's first warning that she truly wasn't alone was a wisp of smoke that appeared by the chair. It swirled in odd patterns, then slowly formed into the figure of a man.

He didn't appear very tall, about five foot ten inches or so. Brown hair rimmed his head, although the top was shiny bald. Dark eyes peered at her with the wisdom of the ages. She wasn't sure what she expected an ‘entity’ to wear, but black pants and a black turtleneck wasn't it. His arms were crossed in front of his chest and he looked not happy at all.

"Well?" he asked.

For a moment she couldn't speak.

"It's happened. I've gone and lost my mind," she murmured. "You're not real. None of this is real. It's all an ugly dream."

"Oh, I'm real, all right." He picked up her coat, shook it out, then hung it in the closet. He returned to the chair and sat down, carefully adjusting the knife-sharp crease in his pants. "My name is Matthias."

"Matthias," Libby repeated numbly. She couldn't take her eyes off him. "What are you?"

He heaved a deep sigh. "I already explained to you, I am an entity. I am here to help you deal with your sorrow so you can go on with your life."

"Then why the changes with my house?" she demanded. "Where's Tyler? Why am I not wearing my wedding ring?"

Matthias sat back in the chair with his fingers pressed together in steeple fashion.

"Your ring no longer exists. Tyler as your husband doesn't exist, and since the two of you were never married your house is no longer yours. Tyler is living on Grover Avenue in the house his parents left him."

"What do you mean he's living in the house his parents left him? They still live there! And how can you say Tyler isn't my husband?"

He shook his head. "They moved to Arizona after his father retired."

"That can't be," she protested, sounding a bit uncertain. "His father retired and they stayed because they wanted to be here for the baby."

"Things have changed, Libby," Matthias explained in a patient voice.

She looked around the small room. "Such as my being in this motel room for some reason and not in my own house? Tyler's gone, my ring is gone. My life is gone. Now you're here to tell me what's going on. But you're not my guardian angel."

He nodded. "That is correct. I merely guide you when you need guidance."

"Fine. Then tell me why am I here and why my husband is somewhere else?"

"Because in your husband's and your parents' eyes you no longer exist."

Libby froze. "Excuse me?"

Matthias smiled and settled back in the chair, looking proud of his accomplishment.

"It's very simple. You said you did not want them in your life any longer and now they are not. You did not appreciate their interference, so now you are on your own."

Libby was positive the world had started spinning crazily on its axis. She thought about saying something, but nothing came to mind at the moment.

She opted for the only action that seemed reasonable at the moment.

She fell backward unconscious on the bed.