The Girl Who Survived(7)

She felt a shifting and saw, to her horror, the ice fissuring beneath her feet. First a single jagged line, then cracking like a giant spider web beneath her.

He froze. “Shit!”

The web splintered.

“Oh, God,” he said. “Stop!”

In the back of her mind, she thought about the fact that she could barely swim. She didn’t move.

But it was too late.

Another loud, ominous crack, almost a moan, reached her ears.

Then, in an instant, the ice beneath her feet shattered.

Screaming, Kara fell through, plunging deep into the frigid depths that swallowed her whole.

She sank like a stone into the darkness, into the lake’s frigid grasp.

Flailing wildly, fighting panic, she tried to swim through the air bubbles and chunks of ice to the surface, where she spied the moon through the layer of ice above. Lake water swirled around her and filled her throat.

Still, if she could reach the surface and— More of the thin ice splintered, the water around her roiled and she was tossed about as the man fell through, his huge body, so close to hers, creating waves that pushed her away from the dark space free of ice, away from the air she so desperately needed.

No, no, no!

She tried to bob up, kicking to get back to the ice-free surface, while he, too, was struggling to get to air, his heavy clothes and boots like dead weight on him. But he saw her and reached out.

He reached for her and she slipped out of his grasp, trying to swim, flailing frantically, panicked as she searched desperately for the surface, for the moon riding high in the night sky. Instead, she found darkness. Water all around her. Her lungs on fire.

Swim, Kara-Bear. Swim!

She heard Marlie’s voice in her head.

But it was no use.

What little air she had in her lungs escaped in a rush of towering bubbles, and her lungs ached and burned.

This dizzying black world of the lake was spinning around her.

She coughed only to lose air and gain water.

She kicked and flailed, but it was no good. She couldn’t find the hole in the ice, didn’t know what was up and what was down.

Don’t give up, Kara, don’t!

Marlie’s voice. Distant and faint.

Kara’s lungs were near bursting when she let go. Her panic subsided as she spun in lazy circles and was only vaguely aware of arms surrounding her in the gathering darkness. The world turned eerily black and surreally quiet and then . . . then, as if from a faraway place, she heard the slow, sure strains of the music again.

“Sleep in heavenly peace.”





CHAPTER 3


Twenty Years Later

Whimstick, Oregon



“You know what they say, Kara,” Dr. Zhou suggested, her thin eyebrows raising a bit as she sat in an overstuffed chair in her office in the second floor of a historic house set in northwest Portland.

“No, but ‘they’ve’ always got something profound on their minds. I’m guessing that hasn’t changed,” Kara responded, then asked, “Ever wonder who ‘they’ are?”

“Oh, I know who they are. The sages. The wise ones through the ages.” Dr. Zhou’s dark eyes sparkled a bit, catching the afternoon light slanting in from the window. She was a small woman. Petite. Jet-black hair, intelligent eyes and a lean body from running marathons.

“Well, they’ve got an advantage, don’t they? You know, the benefit of hindsight and all that.” Kara’s gaze slid to the window. Though it was winter, the December sun was peeking through high, rolling clouds that promised more snow, sunlight gleaming on icicles hanging from the eaves. Like crystal daggers. She’d heard on her Jeep’s radio that more snow was predicted, a foot on Christmas Eve. Kara shuddered at the thought. There was no dreaming of a white Christmas for her. More like a nightmare.

“You’re right.”

“So, what great insight are they offering today? Enlighten me.”

“That guilt is a jealous lover.”

“Oh, save me.” Kara didn’t want to hear it.

“She doesn’t leave room for any other emotions, chases them away, guards her position in a person’s heart feverishly.”

“And guilt is a woman? Of course.” Kara let out a bitter laugh. “So now, you’re not just my psychologist. Now you’ve graduated to philosopher?” She couldn’t keep the edge from her voice.

“Just a gentle reminder.”

As if Kara could ever fight the survivor’s guilt that was her constant companion and had been for two decades.

Twenty years of therapy, of becoming an adult, of facing the trauma that had left her scarred for life, and she wasn’t anywhere near to being “okay.” She knew there was no cure, but she had been told there was a life out there for her, a “normal” life, as she’d been told by a child psychologist, a teen counselor and now Dr. Zhou, the third professional she’d seen as an adult.

Kara wasn’t sure that “normal” was in the cards for her.

“You said you aren’t seeing any more ghosts,” Dr. Zhou said. “Right?”

“I should never have told you,” Kara said. “It was just a silly dream.”

“A silly recurring dream.”

“Yeah, but nothing for a while now,” Kara lied. “Not for two, maybe three months.”