. . .” John got up on one elbow. “All things being equal, you would have gone right from the hospital, like Lucy wanted. Because you care almost as much about Abra as they do. You think she’s safe, but you could be wrong.”
“I’m not.” Hoping that was the truth. He had to hope so, because the simple fact was that he couldn’t go, not now. If it had only been to New York, maybe. But it wasn’t, and he had to sleep. His whole body cried for it.
“What’s wrong with you, Dan? Because you look terrible.”
“Nothing. Just tired.”
Then he was gone, first into darkness and then into a confused nightmare of running down endless halls while some Shape followed him, swinging a mallet from side to side, splitting wallpaper and driving up puffs of plaster dust. Come out, you little shit! the Shape yelled. Come out, you worthless pup, and take your medicine!
Then Abra was with him. They were sitting on the bench in front of the Anniston Public Library, in the late-summer sun. She was holding his hand. It’s all right, Uncle Dan. It’s all right. Before he died, your father turned that Shape out. You don’t have to—
The library door banged open and a woman stepped into the sunlight. Great clouds of dark hair billowed around her head, yet her jauntily cocked tophat stayed on. It stayed on like magic.
“Oh, look,” she said. “It’s Dan Torrance, the man who stole a woman’s money while she was sleeping one off and then left her kid to be beaten to death.”
She smiled at Abra, revealing a single tooth. It looked as long and sharp as a bayonet.
“What will he do to you, little sweetie? What will he do to you?”
10
Lucy woke him promptly at three thirty, but shook her head when Dan moved to wake John. “Let him sleep a bit longer. And my husband is snoring on the couch.” She actually smiled. “It makes me think of the Garden of Gethsemane, you know. Jesus reproaching Peter, saying, ‘So you could not watch with me even one hour?’ Or something like that. But I have no reason to reproach David, I guess—he saw it, too. Come on. I’ve made scrambled eggs. You look like you could use some. You’re skinny as a rail.” She paused and added: “Brother.”
Dan wasn’t particularly hungry, but he followed her into the kitchen. “Saw what, too?”
“I was going through Momo’s papers—anything to keep my hands busy and pass the time—and I heard a clunk from the kitchen.”
She took his hand and led him to the counter between the stove and the fridge. There was a row of old-fashioned apothecary jars here, and the one containing sugar had been overturned. A message had been written in the spill.
I’m OK
Going back to sleep
Love U
In spite of how he felt, Dan thought of his blackboard and had to smile. It was so perfectly Abra.
“She must have woken up just enough to do that,” Lucy said.
“Don’t think so,” Dan said.
She looked at him from the stove, where she was dishing up scrambled eggs.
“You woke her up. She heard your worry.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Yes.”
“Sit down.” She paused. “Sit down, Dan. I guess I better get used to calling you that. Sit down and eat.”
Dan wasn’t hungry, but he needed the fuel. He did as she said.
11
She sat across from him, sipping a glass of juice from the last carafe Concetta Reynolds would ever have delivered from Dean & DeLuca. “Older man with booze issues, starstruck younger woman. That’s the picture I’m getting.”
“It’s the one I got, too.” Dan shoveled the eggs in steadily and methodically, not tasting them.
“Coffee, Mr. . . . Dan?”
“Please.”
She went past the spilled sugar to the Bunn. “He’s married, but his job takes him to a lot of faculty parties where there are a lot of pretty young gals. Not to mention a fair amount of blooming libido when the hour gets late and the music gets loud.”
“Sounds about right,” Dan said. “Maybe my mom used to go along to those parties, but then there was a kid to take care of at home and no money for babysitters.” She passed him a cup of coffee. He sipped it black before she could ask what he took in it. “Thanks. Anyway, they had a thing. Probably at one of the local motels. It sure wasn’t in the back of his car—we had a VW Bug. Even a couple of horny acrobats couldn’t have managed