Chapter Fourteen #3
“Album,” Daniel said carefully, correcting her, but the word came out all wrong.
His mouth was numb. How long had he been asleep?
He straightened, looking at the pattern of sunlight coming through the trees onto the drive.
Damn, he was supposed to be watching Lily, not sleeping on the job.
What if she’d climbed off the swing and wandered into the woods?
“Album,” he said again with difficulty.
“Album,” she repeated.
Who was he kidding? His niece was babysitting him.
He didn’t know what had gotten into Grace, leaving the youngster with him while she and Nick went to her sonogram appointment.
Some last-ditch effort to drag him out of his self-imposed exile at the cabin, force him to come and visit, if only to chase his redhaired niece around their house for a while—which only reminded him of what he’d given up.
“Can we make the cookies now, Uncle Danny?” Lily asked, clambering down off the swing.
“Sure, sweetie,” he said, but his words slurred. When he tried to lever himself up off the rocking swing, he realized his right leg must’ve gone to sleep.
Reaching for the swing to steady himself and shake out the numbness, he found that his arm wasn’t cooperating either. He clung to the swing with his left hand but fell anyway, his head bouncing off the rag rug on the porch.
“Uncle Danny!” Lily shrieked as she ran over. “You fell down.”
He knew what it was. Grace had warned him this might happen. Even with all the repairs she’d made, she’d said he might someday have a stroke. But she could repair that as well, if she were here.
“Lily.” He tried to say her name, but the word came out garbled. Pain was building behind his eyes, blotting out everything. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. He couldn’t see anything out of his left eye—only a murky red haze.
But he could still see Lily’s face. She leaned over him and reached out her hand to pat his cheek. No. She was using it to tilt his head so he could see her clearly.
“Uncle Danny,” Lily said, her little girl’s voice shaking. “I need you…”
Her words were muffled. He could feel his heartbeat against the boards of the porch and behind his eyes, every stroke a painful spasm. He closed his eyes, trying to think. His cell phone…
Lily knelt beside him. “I need you to listen to me.”
He wanted to reassure her, but nothing was cooperating. Damn, not wanting to live with his foresight was one thing, but dying was something else altogether. Not in front of Lily. Not in front of Lily, please.
I don’t want to see this.
“Listen to me. You had to see this, but this is not…” Her voice sounded different. Steadier. Grown-up. “This is not the way it is supposed to be.”
He forced his eyes open again. Most of his face felt numb. Those silvery-green eyes were looking right into his, aware and far older than they should be.
“You have to stop fighting,” she said. Her voice was calm and firm. “You have to accept it.”
Accept what? Death? Was that what she was saying? What did a four-year-old know about death?
As if in answer, she said, “The things you see. The beginnings. The endings. There are many paths to follow. Nothing is fixed.” He had the strangest sense of being embraced in a warm hug as her little hand rested on his face—flooded with love and reassurance.
“There is always loss if you love. But without love, there is nothing.”
Lily held up her hands, cupping them in front of her to hold…fireflies, dancing and flashing. “A single firefly cannot subdue the darkness, but thousands can kindle magic,” Lily said in a strange ancient voice.
Then the toddler’s voice returned. “Remember, we have to save the fireflies. Follow Mommy now. Into the cave.”
Shut it OFF!
He heard Nick’s voice somewhere above his head. “He’s coming to.”
“Can you come here and take over for me?” That was Grace.
Daniel’s eyes opened to pain. He closed them again quickly. Pooka whined somewhere and he felt Grace’s hair tickle his face.
“Daniel?” She was holding his wrist firmly. “Danny?”
The excruciating pain eased a bit. Frowning, he wiggled his fingers, then for good measure moved his feet. “I’m fine,” he said, noting that his mouth was working as well.
“You’re not fine,” she whispered in his ear.
“Not now.”
She gave a disapproving tch sound, and he felt a warm tingle behind his eyes, but the pain didn’t ease up much. He heard retching noises nearby, but they weren’t coming from Nick.
“Whoa,” Grace protested as he sat up suddenly.
“Mel?”
“I think it’s just her stomach,” Nick said from somewhere near the porch steps. Had Mel tagged along on his vision like Nick had? If she had, that was bad…very bad.
“I’ll get a couple of washcloths,” Grace said. “You stay right there. Pooka, watch him.”
Ignoring her, Daniel clambered to his hands and knees and was rewarded with a wet nose in his face and a hot, furry body pressing against him.
“Just take it easy, Mel,” Nick said.
“Is she all right?” Daniel asked, but nobody answered.
The dark blur changed to a brighter blur. Grace had turned the porch lights on.
“He…” Daniel heard Mel say.
He crawled to where Nick was kneeling and could make out Mel’s bright mop of hair there with him.
“He’s… He’s dying.” She was hyperventilating. “I felt—”
Daniel tried to move forward. “What’s wrong?”
“Dammit, Daniel James Woodruff,” Grace muttered as she knelt and handed a washcloth to Mel. “You are the worst patient—”
Mel gasped. “You… You…” she stuttered.
“Me?” Daniel said. He didn’t want her to remember what she’d seen or felt. Or at least not to believe it. “What did I do?”
He saw her hand grope at her chest and realized she was looking for that pendant of hers.
“Grace, she’s looking for her necklace. Under her shirt.”
Grace reached up to Mel’s neck and carefully tugged out the necklace. Mel grasped at the stone and took a deep breath.
“Maybe Nick’s gnocchi disagreed with you,” Daniel said.
“Hey!” Nick protested.
“I’ll make some tea and toast,” Grace said. “Could you get her into the keeping room, Nick?”
Nick helped Mel off the steps. Daniel got up and wobbled a bit as he walked to the door.
“You think you can hold the screen door open for me?” Nick said.
Daniel nodded, using the door for support.
“Just take it easy. You cracked your head hard when you fell.”
“I’m fine.” Daniel tried to focus on Mel’s face as they went by. She seemed to have her eyes shut.
Nick guided Mel to the keeping room, helping her lay down on the plump couch. Daniel followed, navigating the steps into the sitting area.
“Hey, Mel.” Daniel knelt by the couch as Nick tucked a throw over her legs. “Grace’ll fix you up quick. Trust me.”
She opened her eyes. He saw the fear in them.
“You died,” she said.
“Really?” He managed a glib tone. “Here I thought you were the one who needed a doctor.”
“What I need,” she croaked, “is a big glass of prosecco. Nice and bubbly and…I need it.” She reached out to him, as if to reassure herself that he was really there, but he pulled back just far enough to avoid the touch. “Actually, screw the glass. Bring the bottle.”
Daniel tugged the much-abused washcloth out of her fingers and handed it to Nick, who handed him a fresh one. Daniel folded it up, and after much arm waving and head turning on Mel’s part, finally got it across her eyes.
“Prosecco,” she mumbled.
“Lie still for a bit. We’ll consult with the doc here about the prosecco,” Daniel said. He pulled the throw to her shoulders and got up to head for the kitchen. Grace was doing what all good herbalists did when confronted with stomach upset, making ginger tea.
“Are you all right?” Grace asked. “Can you see yet?”
“Bit blurry, but I’m good.”
“Not according to Mel,” Nick said.
“What happened?” Grace asked quietly. “Was it Lily again?”
“A much older Lily, I think,” Daniel was still trying to process what she had tried to tell him.
Nick looked over at Mel. He lowered his voice. “Seriously?”
“I think my niece was trying to show me that I am going end up dying of a stroke.” Daniel rubbed at his temple.
“What? You didn’t see yourself—?” Nick began.
“How old was she?” Grace interrupted.
“Four or so,” Daniel answered. “But then she sounded…a lot older.”
A look of relief crossed Grace’s face. “Four?” She turned to Nick, who raised an eyebrow.
“Hey, I only want reassurance that the rest of us live through her childhood,” Nick said with a touch of sarcasm.
Daniel wondered if he should tell them about Logan. “At least until four, anyway.”
Grace grasped his arm. “What did you see?”
“I had—have a stroke, I think. It felt… It was bad. Lily was there.”
“Oh, Danny.” Grace hugged him.
“It was confusing. I mean… I was dying. So I’m not sure how much was…” He shook his head. “Anyway, right now, I’m more worried about Mel. She was there.”
“If she went along, that explains… But why would Lily take Mel?” Nick said.
“I don’t know. I… I’m not sure about anything I’m seeing anymore,” Daniel said. I know I don’t want a future without Mel in it. “I’m not even sure it was really my future. It was more like a…message.”
“But, Daniel, if she… Maybe we should tell her,” Grace said.
“No. It’s too risky. For you. For Lily.” He glanced at her stomach. For Mel. “For all of us. She’s still a reporter, and she needs to forget this. She needs to think this was a bad dream or… I don’t know, something.” He pulled away from Grace. “Do you have anything you can give her?”
“Are you sure?” The look she gave him asked so much more.
“I’m sure Mel is much better off away from here.” And away from me. Far away.
Grace sighed in defeat. “What do you want to do?”
“What if she thought it was a nightmare?” Daniel asked. “Something brought on by the food, maybe?”
“Now look here. Do not disrespect the gnocchi,” Nick protested.
Daniel ignored him. “Do you have something that will make her sleep?”