Lisey's Story(129)

Now Amanda looked at her with amazement and perplexity. "Kill - ?"

"Yes. Yes. I promise I'll explain everything, but not here. If we stay here long, I'll end up doing nothing but gawking at the Hollyhocks with you." Nor did she think this was a lie. She could feel the pull of the thing, how it wanted her to look. If she gave in, twenty years might pass like twenty minutes and at the end of them she and big sissa Manda-Bunny would still be sitting here, waiting to board a pirate ship that always beckoned but never sailed.

"Will I have to drink any of that shitty punch? Any of that..."

Amanda's brow furrowed as she struggled for memory. Then the lines smoothed out. "Any of that bug-juuuuuice?"

The childish way she drew the word out surprised Lisey into another laugh, and once more the woman wearing the caftan and holding the photograph looked around. Amanda gladdened Lisey's heart by giving the woman a haughty Who you lookin at, bitch? stare...and then flipping her the bird.

"Will I, little Lisey?"

"No more punch, no more bug-juice, I promise. For now, just think of my car. Do you know the color? Are you sure you remember?"

"Cream." Amanda's lips thinned a little and her face took on its Just A Little Home Truth Whether You Like It Or Not expression. Lisey was absolutely delighted to see it. "I told you when you bought it that no color shows the dirt quicker, but you wouldn't listen."

"Do you remember the bumper-sticker?"

"A joke about Jesus, I think. Sooner or later some pissed-off Christian is going to key it off. And probably put a few scratches in your finish for good luck."

From above them came a man's voice, heavily disapproving: "If you need to talk. You should go. Somewhere else."

Lisey didn't even bother turning around, let alone shooting him the bird. "The sticker says JESUS LOVES ME, THIS I KNOW, THAT IS WHY I DON'T DRIVE SLOW. I want you to close your eyes now, Amanda, and see my car. See it from the back, so the bumper-sticker's showing. See it in the shade of a tree. The shade's moving because it's breezy. Can you do that?"

"Ye-e-es...I think so..." Her eyes cut sideways, taking one final longing glance at the ship in the harbor. "I guess so, if it will keep someone from hurting you...although I don't see what it can have to do with Scott. He's been dead over two years now...although...I think he told me something about Good Ma's yellow afghan, and I think he wanted me to tell you. Of course I never did. I forgot so much about those times...on purpose, I suppose."

"What times? What times, Manda?"

Amanda looked at Lisey as though her baby sister were the stupidest thing going. "All the times I cut myself. After the last time - when I cut my belly-button - we were here." Amanda put a finger to her cheek, creating a temporary dimple. "It was something about a story. Your story, Lisey's story. And the afghan. Only he called it the african. Did he say it was a boop? A beep? A boon? Maybe I only dreamed it."

This, coming so unexpectedly out of left field, jolted Lisey but did not derail her. If she was going to get Amanda out of here - and herself - it had to be now. "Never mind all that, Manda, just close your eyes and see my car. Every damn detail you can manage. I'll do the rest."

I hope, she thought, and when she saw Amanda close her eyes, she did the same and gripped her sister's hands tightly. Now she knew why she'd needed to see her car so clearly: so they could return to the visitors' parking lot rather than to Amanda's room in what was your basic locked ward.

She saw her cream BMW (and Amanda was right, that color had been a disaster), then left that part to her sister. She concentrated on adding 5761RD to the license plate, and the pièce de resistance: that Nordic Wolf beer bottle, standing on the asphalt just a bit to the left of the JESUS LOVES ME, THIS I KNOW bumper-sticker. To Lisey it looked perfect, and yet there was no change in the uniquely perfumed air of this place, and she could still hear a faint rippling sound that she realized must be slack canvas in a slight breeze. There was still the feel of the cool stone bench beneath her, and she felt a touch of panic. What if this time I can't get back?

Then, from what seemed to be a great distance, she heard Amanda murmur in a tone of perfect exasperation: "Oh, booger. I forgot the f**king loon on the license plate."

A moment later, the rippling twack of canvas first merged with the blat of the power-mower, then disappeared. Only now the sound of the mower was distant, because -

Lisey opened her eyes. She and Amanda were standing in the parking lot behind her BMW. Amanda was holding Lisey's hands and her eyes were tightly closed, her brow furrowed in a frown of deep concentration. She was still wearing the mint-green pajamas with the Velcro closures, but now her feet were bare, and Lisey understood that when the duty-nurse next visited the patio where she had left Amanda Debusher and her sister Lisa Landon, she would find two empty chairs, two Dixie cups of bug-juice, one pair of slippers, and one pair of sneakers with the socks still in them.

Then - and then wouldn't be long - the nurse would raise the alarm.

In the distance, back toward Castle Rock and New Hampshire beyond, thunder rumbled. A summer storm was coming.

"Amanda!" Lisey said, and here was a new fear: what if Amanda opened her eyes and there was nothing in them but those same empty oceans?

But Amanda's eyes were perfectly aware, if slightly wild. She looked at the parking lot, the BMW, her sister, then down at herself. "Stop holding my hands so tight, Lisey," she said. "They hurt like hell. Also, I need some clothes. You can see right through these stupid pajamas, and I'm not wearing any underpants, let alone a bra."