The Sister(170)

‘Did you ever see her again?’

‘No, I never did.’

‘You didn’t tell Ryan about any of this, did you?’

Miller stared at her with surprise. ‘How would you know that?’

She grinned mischievously. ‘It wasn’t in your notes.’

A grin touched his lips. ‘He’d have loved that story, but it happened in the intervening years. I wish I'd remembered it the other day. Besides, I never told him everything.’

‘Why not?’

‘I didn’t want him to think I was a basket case.’

Confusion creased her brow. ‘But he was a psychiatrist! Do you think if you had known more about your “radar” when your friends died, you'd have been able to save them?’

‘Possibly. It still hurts to think I might have been able to...but then, things happen for a reason don’t they? How did this come up, we were supposed to be talking about you. Talking about this doesn’t make me feel better. It never will. That’s why I keep it inside, out of sight.’

‘Out of mind,’ Stella finished for him.

‘Stella, I have to go.’ He wasn’t sure if the drink he’d had would put him over the limit, but he knew if he stayed there could be a repeat of Christmas three years ago.

‘Okay,’ she said.





Miller sat bolt upright in bed, the pull of the sheets restrained him at the waist. Heart racing, eyes bulging; it was only a dream, but the worst yet. He traced the sequence back in his mind. It was a dream that had no beginning.

His sudden move had woken Stella. ‘Miller, you scared me. What the hell is going on?’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘Do you trust me?’

‘Of course I do.’

‘You do? That’s good. Would you remove your silver for me?’

‘What?’ he asked suspiciously. Where she was concerned, there was always an angle.

‘Take your silver off for me!’ Her face darkened; her voice deepened. ‘Take it off!’ she commanded. She locked eyes with him and, smiling demonically, began to writhe seductively on the bed. ‘Will you take it off?’ she said, cajoling.

He slid one arm underneath her and pulled her on top of him. He was aroused.

She kept him at bay. ‘Answer me!’ she whispered harshly.

What kind of game is this? ‘Of course I would.’

‘Then do it, show me. Prove it to me.’

He removed all of it, with the exception of his crucifix and torc bracelet.

‘The bracelet and the cross!’ She spat the last word.

Surprised at her role-playing abilities, he said, ‘No, never. When they were given to me, I was made to promise I would never remove them. I never have. He rolled himself on top of her. ‘If you continue to ask me to remove them, I will have to say, “Who is this that asks me to break a promise,”’ he said the last few words in a deep, guttural, demonic growl. He scared her.

She put a finger over his lips. ‘Shush silly, you always get carried away.’ She laughed, her eyes crinkled to match her smile. ‘Wow, you’ve never taken it off since you put it on?’

‘That’s right,’ he said.

‘Can I see it?’

He held his arm out to her. She turned his wrist. The torc glowed in the moonlight, polished and smoothed by years of wear. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said finally, and then manoeuvred herself under his arm. With her back turned, spooning into him, she drew it down against her breast and held it there. He felt the warmth of her breath as she dreamily said something he couldn’t quite make out so he leaned in to hear her better.

You’re not in bed, a voice whispered. He rose into consciousness. His head was on the cushion of the sofa. He turned. Stella was staring at him with curiosity. A dream within a dream. What the hell?

‘Stella? I thought I'd gone home.’

Her lips pursed. ‘Mm-m, you don’t remember? What’s wrong with you, Miller, are you for real?’

Miller looked up. In the grey light of early morning, shadows played across the ceiling as the headlights of a car passed by.

He couldn’t remember.





He nursed a glass of water. ‘This is why I tend not to drink,’ he said apologetically.

‘It’s okay,’ she said. ‘I’m used to it.’

‘Well, I’m sorry, I said I'd listen and I fell asleep. You were saying you didn’t believe in the existence of an afterlife.’

‘It doesn’t matter now. I’m tired and a little bit wasted. I’ve come this far.’ She turned away, tears rolling down her cheeks.

What’s wrong with me? I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t get through. I shouldn’t have had that drink.

‘So, suppose I told you about a girl I once knew.’

‘Miller, come on, what is that going to prove? Some second-hand story isn’t going to convert me. I need proof, actual proof.’

‘Just listen, then you can make up your own mind.’

‘Fire away,’ she said, sounding as if she’d already made up her mind that it was bullshit.

‘After you'd left, I tried to get someone else to replace you, but it wasn’t easy. I'd almost given up, and then one Friday afternoon I took a call from someone asking if the job was still open. I said it was and, within the hour, I had this girl in. She couldn’t get a babysitter, so she brought her son with her. She was a little flaky. I wasn’t sure she’d be right for the job, but I...when I saw her boy, I knew I had to give her a chance. He was a little blonde, angel-faced boy. He had a penny whistle and he thrust it into my face. I tried to take it, but he snatched it back out of reach, hiding it behind his back, which made his mother laugh. ‘You can look, but you can’t touch,’ she told me.’