The Fall of Never(151)

“Very good,” Kildare said, sliding the signed copy in front of him.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said. “What the hell do I do with all that land?”

“That isn’t my problem.” Kildare rose, buttoned his coat, and adjusted the collar of his shirt. “That envelope contains all the information and documentation you will need. I don’t foresee any reason for you to contact me in the future.”

Still in shock, she shook her head, dazed. “No.”

“Very well.”

He turned and strode through the crowded coffee shop. A small overhead bell chimed as he hit the door, signaling his permanent departure from Kelly’s life. She watched him cross the street and disappear into the crowd, her right hand fisted around the pen. And before she could think about it again, she felt the pen vanish within her closed fingers.

She sat at the table for a long time, staring at the envelope.



Cracking the door open the slightest bit, Kelly poked her head into Becky’s room. The girl was sound asleep. That bothered Kelly. It was the forgetting—she didn’t like the idea of Becky’s brain erasing the entire incident as she herself had done. No nightmares. And now that the bruises and scrapes had almost completely healed, what was left to remind her? There were no simple solutions to life. To cheat the evil only meant it would eventually return to cheat you back. The past doesn’t forget, she thought. Sometimes it is more dangerous to forget.

Back in the living room, Josh was seated on the sofa watching the videotape of Nellie Worthridge with the sound off.

Kelly crept up behind him. “Couldn’t find the volume switch?”

Josh rolled his shoulders. “Don’t need it. I can still hear her voice in my head. I think I’ll hear it forever. Loud as thunder.”

She slipped around the side of the couch and sat beside him. Close. Suddenly very tired, she watched Nellie’s image flicker on the screen.

“You remember it all?” she asked him.

“Yes. Do you?”

“I do. Now.”

“And Becky?”

She shook her head. “I’m worried about her.”

“She’s all right.”

“You don’t know.”

“I know you worry.”

“Sometimes there are certain things to worry about,” she told him. “Your doctor friend…?”

“Carlos?” Josh sighed. “He’s all right. His wife’s doing better. She was depressed for a while.”

“I can imagine. It would’ve been their first child?”

“Yes,” he said. “Carlos said his mother recently passed away too.”

“Jesus. One thing after another.”

“He’s okay about it. Said she was in a lot of pain anyway. He’s a smart man. You should meet him someday.”

She rested her head on his shoulder. It pained her own wounded shoulder to do it, but she didn’t care. She could live with the pain. “What do you say to someone who helped save your life?” she said, and slipped her hand into one of Josh’s. His palms were rough with scar-tissue where he’d been burned.

“You seem to do all right around me.” He eased his head back against the sofa. Kelly stiffened against him and he looked up, nervous. “What?”

“It’s Becky.” She stood and went around the side of the couch, moved urgently down the hall. She pushed open Becky’s bedroom door and flicked on the light. The girl was still asleep, her eyes fluttering beneath her lids, her breathing soft and deep.

Kelly crouched beside the bed, pushed her face close to the girl’s. Watched her sleep. And after a few moments, Becky’s eyes opened.

“Hey,” Kelly said.

“What are you doing here?”

“Watching you. You were having a bad dream. Can you remember it?”

“Some of it.”

“They say you remember your dreams better if you’re woken up while you’re having them.”

“You wanted me to wake up and remember it?”

Kelly smiled, smoothed back the girl’s hair. “I just want you to talk about it.”

Becky nodded. Then whispered: “Sometimes I get scared.”

“You want to talk about it now?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Becky nodded. “I want to tell you what I remember,” she said.

“Okay.”

“But first…”

“Yes? What is it?”

Becky shifted beneath the blankets. She brought a hand up to her forehead to ward off the light. “How did you know I was having a nightmare?”

Kelly smiled. “Just something I felt,” she said.





About the Author

Ronald Malfi is the award-winning author of eleven novels, including Snow, The Narrows, Cradle Lake, and the novella Borealis. His ghost story/mystery novel, Floating Staircase, won a gold IPPY award and was nominated for the Bram Stoker Award for best novel of 2011 by the Horror Writers Association. His crime drama Shamrock Alley won a silver IPPY Award in 2009 and was optioned for film. Most recognized for his haunting, literary style and memorable characters, Malfi’s dark fiction has gained acceptance among readers of all genres. He currently lives along the Chesapeake Bay with his wife and daughter. He can be reached via his website, www.ronmalfi.com, and on Facebook and Twitter.