The German Wife(52)

“Good night,” I said weakly.

“Night, Henry,” Cal added.

“Hmm,” Henry said, frowning. We watched until he disappeared out the back door, back to his apartment above the garage.

“Do you think he heard?” Cal said.

“No,” I said, heart rate already settling. “He wouldn’t have been so calm if he had.”

“Henry can’t know what we just talked about, Lizzie. Not just because no one is supposed to know. In Henry’s case, it wouldn’t be good for him to know.”

“My first concern is always Henry’s welfare,” I snapped.

I woke that night to a thud and then a pained cry, and threw myself out of bed, rushing into the hallway. Calvin was there—standing in the doorway to his bedroom. We’d never shared a room, something that perplexed Henry the first time he stayed with us. I explained that Calvin snored terribly, and while my brother seemed unconvinced at first, the buzz saw–like sound that echoed down the hallway later that night when Cal went to bed seemed to reassure him.

Now I came to stand beside Calvin, and I rubbed my tired eyes as I mumbled, “Was that Henry?”

“I think so,” Cal said.

“Lizzie!” I heard Henry cry. The sound was coming from the kitchen. Calvin ran ahead of me down the hall and pushed open the kitchen door, just as Henry shouted, “You leave her alone!”

His voice was strained, and he was flailing wildly. I reached for the cord to turn the light on, but Calvin caught my hand.

“He’s sleepwalking,” he whispered. “Just leave the light off and we’ll gently reassure him first.” Then he raised his voice a little and said firmly, “Henry, you’re safe. No one is here.”

“Henry,” I called, keeping my tone soft. “Honey, wake up. You’re okay!” Henry was throwing himself around the room as if he were tangling with an invisible assailant, and as his arms flailed, he knocked the fruit bowl to the floor. Apples rolled over the floorboards, and I sighed impatiently as I pulled the light cord. Cal looked at me, incredulous.

“One of us was going to break an ankle if I didn’t,” I muttered. Then Henry launched himself while Calvin was distracted.

“It’s just me!” Cal groaned, as Henry knocked him violently into the refrigerator. Calvin’s glasses fell off and clattered to the floor.

“Henry,” I gasped, grabbing his upper arm and tugging at it. Henry shook me off and I stumbled backward into the door, releasing a cry of pain.

Just then, Henry backed away from Calvin, looking blankly around the room as if he had no idea where he was. He soon dropped to cower near the stove, panting as if he’d been sprinting, clutching his forehead in his hands. I pushed past Calvin to crouch beside my brother. Up close, I noted the sweat on his skin and the tears in his eyes.

“He was here,” Henry said, still dazed. He looked around the room, then shook his head. “Where did he go?”

“It was just a dream,” Cal said softly. “You were alone.”

Henry blinked away the last of his tears, then scowled at Calvin.

“I know the difference between a dream and reality! He was in this house.”

“This has happened before,” I reminded him. “Remember? When you first came home to us in El Paso?” Henry’s dreams were so vivid when he first returned from Europe and he often wandered around the house, sound asleep. After the night I found him standing at his car, keys in hand but deeply asleep, I began hiding his keys after he went to bed.

Those dreams seemed different from this episode, though. Back then, even when Henry acted out a dream, he was always fully alert as soon as I spoke to him—quickly aware he’d been dreaming. And he’d never hurt anyone before—but I shuddered to think what might have happened to Calvin if Henry hadn’t snapped out of it right when he did.

“Someone was here, Lizzie. It must have been Rhodes,” Henry insisted. Calvin bent, then felt around on the floor until he found his glasses. He sighed when he realized they were broken, and Henry looked at him, stricken. “What happened to your glasses, Cal? Did Rhodes do that?”

“You were in here alone,” Calvin repeated. Henry frowned, shaking his head.

“He must have left before you came in.” He paused, then nodded, as if he’d convinced himself. “That’s it. He must have—” His gaze drifted to the window, and he frowned again. It was closed, the latch locked. His eyes flew to the door. “He must have gone out that way. Down the hallway. Out the back door.”

“Why don’t you sleep in the guest room tonight?” I suggested.

“We need to call the police,” Henry said. He shot me a look of impatience—as if I were the irrational one.

“No one was here, Henry.”

“You’re not listening to me!” he exclaimed, raising his voice again. “I’m not crazy—I know what I saw.”

“Why don’t we call the police in the morning?” Calvin suggested. He caught my eye, and I gave a subtle nod.

“Good idea,” I said gently. “If someone was here, they’re obviously gone now. Let’s get some sleep and try to figure this out in the morning.”

Once I got Henry settled in the guest room, I went to Cal’s bedroom and closed the door behind me. Calvin was sitting on his bed, wearing his spare glasses. He was staring at the floorboards, his expression grave.