“I’ll have to pay to have that thing repaired, and I bet it costs a bundle. Good thing I’ve got some savings.”
Billy snorted. “Who’s gonna chase you for damages? There’s nothing left of those True Knot folks but their clothes. I looked.”
“Unfortunately,” Dan said, “Roof O’ the World belongs to the great State of Colorado.”
“Ouch,” Billy said. “Hardly seems fair, since you just did Colorado and the rest of the world a favor. Where’s Abra?”
“Back home.”
“Good. And it’s over? Really over?”
Dan nodded.
Billy was staring at the ashes of Rose’s tophat. “Went up damn fast. Almost like a special effect in a movie.”
“I imagine it was very old.” And full of magic, he didn’t add. The black variety.
Dan went to the pickup and sat behind the wheel so he could examine his face in the rearview mirror.
“See anything that shouldn’t be there?” Billy asked. “That’s what my mom always used to say when she caught me moonin over my own reflection.”
“Not a thing,” Dan said. A smile began to break on his face. It was tired but genuine. “Not a thing in the world.”
“Then let’s call the police and tell em about our accident,” Billy said. “Ordinarily I got no use for the Five-O, but right about now I wouldn’t mind some company. Place gives me the willies.” He gave Dan a shrewd look. “Full of ghosts, ain’t it? That’s why they picked it.”
That was why, no doubt about it. But you didn’t need to be Ebenezer Scrooge to know there were good ghostie people as well as bad ones. As they walked down toward the Overlook Lodge, Dan paused to look back at Roof O’ the World. He was not entirely surprised to see a man standing on the platform by the broken rail. He raised one hand, the summit of Pawnee Mountain visible through it, and sketched a flying kiss that Dan remembered from his childhood. He remembered it well. It had been their special end-of-the-day thing.
Bedtime, doc. Sleep tight. Dream up a dragon and tell me about it in the morning.
Dan knew he was going to cry, but not now. This wasn’t the time. He lifted his own hand to his mouth and returned the kiss.
He looked for a moment longer at what remained of his father. Then he headed down to the parking lot with Billy. When they got there, he looked back once more.
Roof O’ the World was empty.
UNTIL YOU SLEEP
FEAR stands for face everything and recover.
—Old AA saying
ANNIVERSARY
1
The Saturday noon AA meeting in Frazier was one of the oldest in New Hampshire, dating back to 1946, and had been founded by Fat Bob D., who had known the Program’s founder, Bill Wilson, personally. Fat Bob was long in his grave, a victim of lung cancer—in the early days most recovering alkies had smoked like chimneys and newbies were routinely told to keep their mouths shut and the ashtrays empty—but the meeting was still well attended. Today it was SRO, because when it was over there would be pizza and a sheet cake. This was the case at most anniversary meetings, and today one of their number was celebrating fifteen years of sobriety. In the early years he had been known as Dan or Dan T., but word of his work at the local hospice had gotten around (the AA magazine was not known as The Grapevine for nothing), and now he was most commonly called Doc. Since his parents had called him that, Dan found the nickname ironic . . . but in a good way. Life was a wheel, its only job was to turn, and it always came back to where it had started.
A real doctor, this one named John, chaired at Dan’s request, and the meeting followed its usual course. There was laughter when Randy M. told how he had thrown up all over the cop who arrested him on his last DUI, and more when he went on to say he had discovered a year later that the cop himself was in the Program. Maggie M. cried when she told (“shared,” in AA parlance) how she had again been denied joint custody of her two children. The usual clichés were offered—time takes time, it works if you work it, don’t quit until the miracle happens—and Maggie eventually quieted to sniffles. There was the usual cry of Higher Power says turn it off! when a guy’s cell phone rang. A gal with shaky hands spilled a cup of coffee; a meeting without