Chapter 19

At ten-fifteen Monday morning, Meredith eased the car into gear and backed from the narrow parking slot at the Mabton-Grisby Airport. The sky was overcast, but the layer of fog that had settled around Mabton during the night had cleared sufficiently to let Richard’s flight leave on schedule. She had stood on the concourse waving at his small face in the cell-like window of the plane. He would return late Wednesday; Thursday, actually, since it would be after midnight when Meredith drove out to meet him.

She accelerated to a leisurely speed on the highway leading back to Mabton, pleased at the possibilities of completely free days. A week ago she might have planned to pick up a newspaper, comb the classified pages, and search for office space. All that had changed now. Her body felt sensuous and satisfied after last night’s lovemaking, and a hint of self-satisfaction colored her mood when she thought about her seduction of her husband. She had sat naked under the covers, giving what she thought must be the world’s greatest “come hither” smile. “No half shell,” she told him. Richard had started to undress. He was half out of his pants, and she thought he was going to kill himself. The pants caught on one foot. Although he was stumbling, he looked like he was dancing. She smiled extra wickedly.

“Honest,” she said. “Check in the drawer if you want.” She giggled. “Or check in me.”

Richard finally managed to get rid of most of his clothes. He moved quickly to her, peeled back the covers, then leaned down and picked her up. “Come on,” he said, and stood with her in his arms.

“Wait a minute. It’s cold out here,” she protested, but Richard paid no attention as he carried her toward the hallway. He would not let her go until they reached the door on the far side. A moment later they stood laughing and shivering in the baby’s room, careless of what the neighbors might see through the uncurtained windows. They clung to each other, giggling and deciding a dozen minor details: the baby’s birthweight and color of eyes, which college it would attend.

Meredith still felt warm with the laughter of that celebration. She watched the road signs pass and signaled her exit at the one for Mabton State College. No doubt Gus would be too busy to see her; a shame, because she would have liked to reassure him with her good spirits today. The papers lying on the dash had to be returned. She could probably leave them with the secretary.

As she followed the winding road past the campus gate, she noted that the students passing on the gravel walkways no longer looked quite as carefree as they had a week ago. Bundled in warm coats, they hunched over arm loads of books, looking like studious gnomes scurrying between the immense buildings. Midterms, Meredith thought, and pulled into a parking space outside the psychology building. She could practically predict the date of major exams by the traces of worry in these faces. She took the thick bundle from the dash, locked the car, and stepped across the lot.

The door to Halburton’s office was closed, but inside, his sharp-faced secretary listened on the phone, scribbling numbers on a notepad. Meredith wrote out a brief thank-you note on a scrap of paper and lay the package on the desk. She had almost reached the door, somewhat relieved not to have to discuss the reports with Gus, when a commanding voice stopped her.

“One moment, miss,” the secretary snapped, her palm covering the receiver. “You will wait, please.”

Meredith paused while the woman put her caller on hold. “You are Miss Morgan, returning Doctor’s papers?”

“I’m Mrs. Morgan,” she said. Then she tried to suppress her hostility. I’m Mrs. Morgan, she thought sweetly toward the secretary, and I’m probably pregnant, which is more than you’ll ever have going, honey.

“I’ll buzz Doctor.”

“There’s no appointment,” Meredith protested, but the woman had already punched a button.

“Yes,” she said into the receiver. “Yes, I caught her. Let me look.” The secretary ran a red fingernail down the page of a calendar on her desk. “Well, if you insist, but that meeting . . . All right.” She paused, placing her hand over the receiver. “Doctor would like to know if you can see him at eleven forty-five.”

“I guess so.”

The woman returned to the phone, crossing a line from the calendar to insert Meredith’s name. “You may wait here if you like,” she said when she set the receiver down. She directed Meredith’s attention toward the wide maroon sofa.

Eleven forty-five was nearly an hour away, and Meredith doubted she could endure this woman’s company for more than another minute. Nevertheless, curiosity got the best of her. “I didn’t plan an appointment. Are you sure there’s not some mistake?”

“Doctor wishes to see you. He left instructions.” The finality in her voice and the harsh set of her jaw made it clear that Meredith could expect nothing more. She turned without a word and pushed out the office door.

Emerging outside, she wondered what to do with a free hour on campus. Across the grassy quadrangle, where no one sat relaxing today, the broad oak doors of the library swung open and closed as students hurried through them. It was odd for Gus to insist that she come back, and probably for nothing more than to thank her for the dinner, but she supposed she could spend the time reading up on childbirth. That was the only topic that interested her today, and she felt slightly amused as she crossed the open lawn. Babies, nothing but babies, Sally Fielding had said. Well, now she knew how that young wife felt—in some ways, at least. She pulled the heavy library door open, recalling the last time she had been here; a day when she cared about nothing but psychology.

Fifty minutes later, when she recrossed the quadrangle, she felt slightly more knowledgeable about pregnancy. Earlier that morning, studying her face in the mirror, she had frowned in annoyance. It seemed that an act as important as conception should somehow alter a woman’s looks, performing a chemical magic to automatically change her physically. Now she acknowledged that the fertilized seed, if in fact they had been lucky, was already making deep, though invisible changes. Her blood chemistry was being subtly altered and a tiny nugget of cells multiplied in her womb. Just in case, she would pick up a package of vitamins with extra calcium and iron. Just in case, she thought. So much depended on whether they had gotten lucky.

The door to Gus’s office stood open when she entered the waiting room and his secretary waved toward her. “You may go in, miss.”

“Gus?” Meredith said tentatively. He sat with his back turned, studying the overcast sky beyond the window and thoughtfully smoking his pipe. “You wanted to see me.”

“Meredith, of course. Sit down.” He spoke without turning. “But you’ll probably want to close the door to the lion’s den.”

Meredith smiled. Gus’s voice sounded serious, but he had not lost his sense of humor. She eased the door to the outer office shut, and by the time she settled into a deep leather chair, he had swung around to face her.

“How are you, Meredith?” His features looked worried. “Forgive an old man for being rude—butting in, perhaps—but I’ve been concerned about you.”

Meredith stared at her lap. She recalled their last conversation here and realized what must be on his mind. “There’s nothing to forgive,” she said, smiling. “But I think the whole thing has worked out—if you mean about the dreams.”

Gus nodded. “That. And your vision. I’ve been more rude than you think. After I saw you Thursday night, I made a telephone call. A transatlantic call, in fact.” He paused to study her reaction. “To England.”

Meredith wanted to laugh. At the same time she felt the depth of his concern. “I did look worried last Thursday, but it seems there’s no longer anything to worry about.” She recalled the bizarre compulsions that tried to lead her to Arthur Watson last Friday. The episode was finished. She really didn’t want to think about it. “Don’t I look better today?”

She hoped Gus would go for the bait so she could tell him about wanting a baby, but he seemed to miss the comment entirely.

“No dreams?” he asked, his gaze penetrating. “Perhaps I was wrong, then. You do realize that, in a sense, I betrayed our confidence.”

Gus had called the British researcher. He explained that he had spoken about the uncanny resemblance of her situation to some things he had heard at the conference. “I dropped those papers by to make sure you would come see me today,” he said guilelessly. “I assume you’ve told none of this to Richard.”

“I haven’t. I thought I could handle it myself, and I think that’s happened.”

“Perhaps.” Gus remained unconvinced. “In any event, you’ll want to know what my colleague in England said.”

To refuse would only make him doubt the completeness of her recovery. Meredith nodded.

Gus leaned back and studied the bowl of his pipe. “You read the reports.” He cast a critical glance from beneath bushy eyebrows.

“To tell the truth, I found them depressing.”

“So did I.” He nodded, faintly distracted. “Especially in light of what Dr. Pearlman said at the conference. He did not put all his findings in the papers. He did not mention some bizarre happenings that might be coincidence. He also did not include one family that he met but had no opportunity to study. Not scientifically.” Halburton paused, waiting to see if Meredith would prompt him.

“And?”

“This family of four lives in Londonderry.” Gus began matter-of-factly laying out the case. “After the mother’s death in a car accident the family was thrown into chaos. The mother had been alcoholic and given to blind rages toward the children. She spent a lot of money on her friends at the pubs. Shortly after the funeral, the father and three daughters moved to a cheaper house.

“But the mother followed,” Gus said, his usually rich voice reduced to a near whisper. “She first appeared in the father’s dreams, much as you have described. She approached him gradually like a lover, recalling pleasant scenes from their life together. She seemed to desire him sexually.

“The man sought psychiatric care, and that brought him to Professor Pearlman. Instead of improving with therapy, the situation got worse.”

Meredith wanted to interrupt, to make him stop saying these things, but Halburton’s words ran ahead of her.

“The man had three daughters,” Gus went on. “He had always wanted a son. In his dreams his wife kept promising a child, the son they never had. The dreams frightened him. Then, before long, he had waking visions like your own. He saw the new house as the old one, his wife present going about her usual chores. You see my point, Meredith. He, too, had three-dimensional hallucinations.”

“That could be grief, Gus,” she argued. “A man’s wife dies, he feels guilty for not helping her with the drinking, he imagines she’s haunting him—”

“Except,” Gus cut her off sharply, “except for what followed.

“One day, about two years afterward, the man returned to his old house, innocently enough, to pick up some things he had stored there. The new tenant was a young, unmarried woman. In a remarkably short time, he fell in love with her. They married, and the new wife had the long-wanted son. Only after the child was born did she confess to what had attracted her so instantly to her new husband. In dreams, Meredith”—Gus paused, emphasizing the words—”in dreams and visions several weeks before they met, she had seen this same man and fallen in love. “

“Gus!” Meredith caught herself, startled at the near shriek in her voice. “I don’t want to hear this.”

“You must.” Halburton leaned forward. “You have to hear, and I only wish I had more records on the family. That might convince us both. They refused to be tested on the equipment, Meredith. They claimed they already knew what had happened and no scientist was going to violate the privacy of their . . . of their . . . how did they put it? Of their miracle.”

Meredith felt as if the walls of a trap were closing. She knew what Halburton’s next question would be, and she would have to answer it honestly. She stared across the broad desk at the man who had been a friend for so many years. She could not lie to him.

Gus understood. She watched intensity fade from his eyes. His old gentleness returned. When he spoke again his voice was kind.

“I’ve been abrupt, Meredith, but you can understand why. I had to. In your hallucination, you and the man from your dream talked of having a child. That tallied too well with this Londonderry case. I have to doublecheck.”

Meredith nodded. She was ashamed of her earlier outburst, but she wished she had an excuse to leave. There was a barbed question that would be coming soon.

Gus went on calmly. “Our relationship is a fine one. We are friends and colleagues, and like all good friends we are counselors to one another. You have always known you could tell me anything or choose not to tell me. That is the choice you must make now, when I ask whether or not the man from your dreams has appeared in your life.” As if embarrassed, Gus lowered his gaze and stood to walk slowly toward the far end of the office. He seemed to be staring from the window, but Meredith saw that he was really looking at a small, gold-framed portrait of his wife.

Meredith sat in stunned silence. She wondered if the desperate prayer that filled her mind now could be heard. It asked that none of this be true, that the unearthly bond mysteriously tying her to Arthur Watson be dissolved.

At last Gus’s deep voice broke the tension. “That telephone will buzz any minute.” He smiled ruefully. “My secretary expects me to attend a twelve-thirty luncheon, and she’ll be a terror if I’m late.”

“The man has tried to enter my life,” Meredith said, “but he’s had no luck.” Then a really hopeful thought came to her. “He won’t have any, either. I’m having a baby, and Richard is the father.”

Gus continued to look at the portrait of his wife. “That is very good news,” he said. “If we did not have this problem it would be even better news. How has the man entered your life?”

“Actually, it seemed like an accident.” Meredith began telling him about the phone call, when Arthur Watson asked to leave items at the yard sale. It was going to be a long story, and the phone was buzzing. Gus answered.

“Two minutes,” he said into the phone. He listened and winked at Meredith as the phone seemed to erupt with sound. “Four minutes,” he said, and hung up.

“She’ll get over it,” he said about the secretary. “Still, we have to finish quickly.”

“If something, something crazy or supernatural is driving me toward Arthur Watson, it should get discouraged if I’m already pregnant by my husband.”

“We can count on nothing,” Gus said. “I think for a while you should have someone with you while Richard is at work. I also think that I’d better do some more investigating. Can you find someone? You can always hire one of our students.”

“I have friends,” Meredith said. “I met some people last Saturday.”

“We’ll talk very soon,” Gus said, lifting his suit jacket from the back of a chair. Meredith was glad that she had not gotten far enough along in her story to tell him about compulsively sitting in a car waiting for Arthur Watson to come home. If Gus knew that he would cancel his lunch. He would cancel his whole afternoon schedule. Somehow the knowledge of that made her feel safer.

“You said there were other bizarre happenings.”

“In two cases,” Gus said, “there was absolutely insane violence. Dr. Pearlman speculated some force of revenge, but he did so with every caution. He seems to feel that there might be other forces operating.” Gus tapped his pipe, then placed it in his jacket pocket. “Undocumented. Even Pearlman was dubious.” Gus seemed harassed. He wanted to stay, and had to go.

“I’ll take care of myself,” she told him. “At least we know what can happen. It’s not knowing that causes trouble.”

*

The overcast sky looked darker by the time Meredith stepped from the doorway of the psychology building. Gus had hugged her good-bye. Halburton could not know that his story hung over her as a heavier cloud than she had acknowledged. His tale seemed a dark portent that made all of the crazy events of the last few weeks form a pattern. It was not a rational pattern, but a pattern nonetheless. The pattern said that dead people could return to beg for children, or that strangers’ lives could be bound to one another by powers stronger than the bonds of this world.

Dazed, pausing on the steps of the building, she shook her head only to realize that several students were staring at her. They would think she was a patient. She hurried toward her car.

From the distance it appeared that she had gotten a parking ticket. A white rectangle gleamed against the windshield. As she approached, Meredith saw that the rectangle lay not on the windshield, but beneath it. She fumbled in her purse for keys and quickly unlocked the door, puzzled even as her hand closed on the crisp envelope.

Mr. Arthur Watson, the address said in her own handwriting. Dimont Avenue. She let the envelope flutter to the seat, then collapsed beside it. The envelope had been hidden beneath those reports she took to Gus. Richard had not mailed it, had not even seen it. Meredith pulled the car door shut and managed to cover her face with her hands before burning tears broke over her cheeks. The world seemed filled with threat.