Leap - chapter four

                                            4

        She sat alone in the dark room, her rapid pulse and ragged breathing the only sounds.  The vividness of the dream left a residue of fear that clung to her mind, leaving her disoriented.  “It’s okay Grace” she spoke aloud, “it was just a dream.”  With effort, she worked her breathing back into a normal rhythm.

          The digital clock on the nightstand read 2:20.  The deep, slow rumble of thunder echoed somewhere in the distance.  She lay back on the pillow and closed her eyes, trying to will herself back to sleep, but after 15 minutes of tossing, she figured that sleep had escaped for the night.  What was she supposed to do with herself now?

          Since the night of the accident she had been running on autopilot, moving from task to task, staying busy so she did not have to think or feel. She woke each morning and attacked the day with a fierce determination until she fell exhausted into bed each night.  But now that all the details had been seen to and she was free of responsibility, the grief that she had run from was a menace on the horizon, waiting for a quiet moment to pounce and devour her from the inside.  She was not ready to face that. 
She remembered the mess in the dining room and threw her feet over the edge of the bed with purpose. 

          When the kitchen and dining room were spotless, down to the freshly mopped floor, she turned to the television for distraction.  Maybe she would find something to occupy her mind and she could hide a little longer.  She turned to the channel guide, (the picture in picture was tuned to the Shopping Network), and scrolled through the channels while the woman on the television tried to sell her “an exquisite string of pearls”.  The storm she had heard earlier broke overhead, the drops coming hard and fast on the tin roof, sounding like the rapid fire of an automatic rifle. Grace turned up the television to hear over the rain, and was urged to call fast, only 68 of these “lovely strands of fresh-water gems” left.

          A brilliant flash of lightning lit up the room for several seconds, followed by a crash of thunder that shook the windows.  Having experienced numerous fall storms at the Family House, Grace knew it was only a matter of time until the power went out.  She went to the kitchen and took several candles and a small flashlight from the pantry.  The lodge supplied them for nights like this.  She lit the candles and placed two of them on the bar between the kitchen and dining room.  She placed two more on the coffee table.  There was another flash of lightning and the house went dark except for the dim, dancing glow of tiny flames.

          “So much for watching TV,” she muttered.  She grabbed a patchwork quilt from the back of the couch, wrapped it around her shoulders and strolled outside. 

          One of her favorite features of this house had always been the deep covered front porch that ran its full length.  At one end there was a wooden swing suspended by chains, and along the house, four straight-backed wooden chairs.  Grace chose the swing.  She sat down on the cold seat and drew her legs up beside her.  Wrapping up in the quilt she settled in to watch the light show. 

          If Anna were here tonight, she would be snuggled under the quilt with Grace.  Their dad would be sitting on the porch rail commenting on how ‘you never get to see lightning like this in the city’.  Mom would be flitting in and out of the house, wanting to be outside with them but afraid of the storm.  She could wheel and deal with celebrities and play hardball with the shrewdest of men, but she jumped every time thunder exploded in the air.  Grace chuckled with the memory.

          She missed her sister’s warmth beside her.  She missed the sound of her father’s voice.  She missed teasing her mother. 
Grace closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath. She turned her will to holding back the tears, afraid if the dam broke, the flood would never end.  If she could hold it back and just stay numb, she might get through this without losing herself.

          The rain was coming down hard and fast.  She opened her eyes on a wall of falling water obscuring her view of the yard.  She put her feet down and gave the swing a gentle push. Lightning flashed in a quick procession like an ominous strobe light.  Then the rain abruptly stopped and white-hot electricity shot across the sky, multiplying and sending out forks in several directions, illuminating the world like a bright summer day.  For an instant, she could clearly see the front yard and the surrounding landscape.

        The Family House sat on a half-acre plot surrounded by a dog-wire fence.  One large elm tree grew in the front right corner of the property, and on the other side of the fence a clump of oak and elm huddled together.  Beyond the trees the lot sloped down into a small valley.  A gravel lane ran from the lodge entrance, along the right side of the yard, across the valley and another hill on the other side.  Three hundred yards to the west was a small stream-fed pond.  She couldn't see it now, but remembered coming out here early in the morning to watch a thick mist rise off the pond and shroud the little valley in a sleepy cloud.
 
          Another explosion of light masked the night and Grace thought she saw someone standing out there, by the cluster of trees just the other side of the fence.  She jumped to her feet pulling the quilt tight around her shoulders.  It had to be a trick of the light, there could not be a person out there on a night like this.  Another burst like daylight and this time she clearly saw a person standing there in the stormy night.  She gripped the rail with one hand, holding the quilt with the other, and leaned forward to get a better view.

          Why would anyone be outside in weather like this?  Maybe something was wrong.  Maybe she should go inside and get the flashlight. 

        The next burst of light and the girl, (she was clearly a girl, a teen-ager, with shoulder length hair of an indiscernible color), was standing half way between the fence and the porch, and she was smiling. 

        How did she . . .  Before Grace had a chance to react, the girl suddenly stood four feet in front of her, looking her straight in the eye.  Grace screamed and ran for the front door, bolting it behind her.  She squatted down against the sturdy door, so she couldn’t be seen through the window set in its surface. 
How did that girl get across the yard in the blink of an eye?  What was she doing out there in the middle of the night with a storm raging all around her?  Who was she?  Grace’s curiosity overcame her fear - and her good sense.  She grabbed the flashlight and peeked through the window set in the front door.
         
        She didn't see anything, so she slowly opened the door, afraid the girl would suddenly materialize right in her face and give her a heart attack.  She leaned out and looked left and then right.  When she still did not see the girl, she turned the flashlight on and scanned the yard.  Still no sign of her.  Grace rushed to first one end of the porch and then the other to check both side yards.  Nothing.  She even ran through the house, a whirlwind of questions swirling through her head, and checked the back yard, but to no avail.

          Where had she gone?  Better yet, where had she come from?