CHAPTER ONE

          Carol dreamed.

          For the first time in months, the dream wasn't a nightmare. 

          In the dream, she floated through a strange landscape. Everything was warm, the sun just starting to go down ... not threatening.  The setting felt southern to her.  Moss hung from twisted trees and the air had a wetness to it that clung to her skin.  She walked-floated across the boggy sod toward the dim lights of a manor house.

          There was someone in the distance, standing on the wide veranda that stretched the length of the house.  He was tall, wide-shouldered with long, dark hair that fell below his shoulders.

          Carol strained to make out the features of his face but the shadows of the veranda caressed him, not letting her see.  His hand raised, beckoned her to come to him.

          "It will be all right," a deep voice whispered against her ear.

          Carol jerked awake.

          The covers of the bed were damp and clingy.  She threw them back and was instantly chilled.  She sat up in bed and stared into the gloom of her bedroom.  The alarm clock flashed 2:20 A.M. in bold red numbers that branded themselves on her eyes.  Carol shook herself, wispy images of the dream still wrapped around her.

          That voice had been too real.

          It had been so real that it had awakened her out of a deep sleep.  She could still feel the ghost of warm breath on her ear.   Carol rubbed her eyes.  She was wide-awake now.  God, she had to get up in three hours to get ready for work.  She glanced at the other side of the bed.  It had been empty for seven months.  Seven months since Tom had left.  Her eyes started that familiar stinging.

          Disgusted with herself, she swung her legs over the side of the bed.  She felt along the bed until she came to the bedpost where her robe hung.  Carol wrapped the tattered robe around her and made her way through the darkness of the room out to the hall.  She ducked her head into the girls' room and listened.  Steady breathing.  They were sound asleep.  Carol hugged the robe around her and padded the rest of the way down the hall and into the kitchen.

          She flicked on the light over the sink.  The tile floor was chilly against her feet as she walked to the refrigerator and looked inside for something to eat even though she wasn't hungry.  Carol forced herself to shut the door.  She needed to break the habit of eating every time she woke up in the middle of the night.  It wasn't doing her thighs any good.

          Instead, she got a glass of water, drank it straight down, and then refilled the glass.   She wandered into the living room, plopped down on the couch and stared at the empty room.

          Everything about the house seemed empty in the middle of the night.

          Tom had left her, telling her that he needed more.

          'More,' she had said, 'More what?'

          He had shrugged his shoulders.  Even he didn't understand.

          They had been together since high school.  Tom was a part of her.  With him gone, it was like a piece of her had been surgically removed with no anesthetic.  God, it hurt.  The divorce had become final a little over three months ago and now Tom had a girlfriend.

          Carol had the girls, the house, and her going-nowhere job in the boring little town of River Bend, Ohio.

          She reached over and turned on the lamp that sat in the middle of the end table, -- the lamp that Tom had presented her with one Christmas.  She wondered vaguely if his new girlfriend got pieces of furniture as gifts.  Probably not.

          The novel she had been reading lay on the table.  Maybe an hour or so of reading would help her sleep.  Her best friend, Elaine, had laughed the first time she had seen Carol reading 'Justine's Promise'.  Laughed because Carol was reading romance instead of her usual pick --- horror.  But Carol liked this book.  It helped her escape her life for a few hours.  Carol adjusted the throw pillows behind her back and opened the novel to the place where she had left off.

          The story was set in the Deep South.  A lonely southern girl, Justine, was trying valiantly to save the manor and sugar cane plantation that had been in her family for years.  Her father had been killed in a carriage accident and there were no brothers to take over in his place.  It wasn't proper for a woman to take care of business deals and she was having one hell of a time.

          Especially with the new foreman that Justine had hired to oversee the running of the plantation.

          His name was Jacque Master and he was the most handsome man that the local belles had seen since they had all become of age.  Justine was visited by all of the eligible maidens in the surrounding area, but they only came to see Jacque.  Justine knew it, too.  She considered it an affront to her.  She knew that if it weren’t for Jacque, they would have nothing to do with a woman who ran a plantation.   She was a woman trying to make it in the world of men.  It just wasn't feminine.

          Justine's feelings toward Jacque thrummed inside her, a dizzying vibration, but she would not show him how much she actually wanted him.  After all, he was below her station.  But, Jacque wanted her.  He had told her one hot night as he was helping her go over the books.  Justine had pushed him away then, but now she regretted it.

          Carol chewed her lip while she read about the steamy romance of Jacque and Justine, secretly wishing that it could be her.  That she could be the object of a man like Jacque's adoration.  Carol was transported into the book, seeing the scenery with her mind's vision, feeling the frustration of Justine in her own aching heart and before long, she forgot about Tom.

          Bart Knight sat straight up in bed.

          The room was pitch black, as cold as ice.  He shook himself.  Bart hadn't been awakened in the middle of the night like this before.  He breathed deep, calming breaths.  The image that had invaded his sleeping mind was one of a dark, dank swamp.  It wasn't the swamp that had awakened him.

          It was the thing that was trying to break free of it that had caused his mind alarm.

          That, and a name, whispered in the night.

          Carol.

          There was only one Carol that Bart knew.  Carol Raper.  She ran machine number two in Bart's department at the factory.  He had been her foreman for quite a few years now.

          Bart reached for his pack of cigarettes that were on the nightstand beside the bed.   He lit one, taking the smoke deep into his lungs while watching the flickering flame of the match die back into the darkness.

          And he wondered what the dream had meant.

          Carol's eyes grew heavy.  She scooched down farther on the couch and adjusted the pillow behind her head.

          She ran her finger along the line of print on the page, trying to focus her eyes.   Carol was in the middle of a really good part and she wanted to finish it before she went back to bed.

          "Carol ...," a voice whispered against her ear.

          Carol froze.  Her eyes flew wide.

          She listened intently.  There was no sound except her breathing.  Slowly, she dog-eared the page of the book and closed it.  She reached over her head and laid the book on the end table.  Cautiously, she swung her legs to the floor and sat up.  Her eyes scanned the room.

          Nothing.

          Had she heard someone call her name?  She had felt that breath on her ear again.  The same as when she had awakened from the dream.  She was sure of it.  She sat completely still.

          Nothing happened.

          After a time, she relaxed.  It must have been her imagination.  She had been doing an awful lot of daydreaming lately.  Carol rubbed her eyes.  They felt like orbs of glass.  She propped her elbows on her knees and cradled her head in her hands.

          Her daydreaming really had gotten out of hand.  Just the other day, she had been running her sewing machine at the factory, trying to keep the seam of the canvas boat cover that she was working on straight, when the image of Jacque had come into her mind.  She had almost sewn the fingers of her left hand together.

          She shook her head.  Good Lord, she had a crush on a character in a novel.

          Carol rose from the couch.  Sleep was what she needed.  She'd never make it at work tomorrow if she didn't get some sleep.  Carol shut off the lamp, shut off the light above the kitchen sink and made her way to the bedroom.

          It was almost four in the morning and here she was, wandering around the house in the dark. 

          She slung her robe onto the bedpost and crawled under the covers.  They still felt a bit damp, but not too bad.  She punched her feather pillow, making a spot for her head.   Carol grabbed Tom's pillow, the one that he hadn't taken with him, and hugged it in her arms.  She could smell the faint scent of his cologne still clinging to it.  She closed her eyes.

          No more voices, she begged her mind.  That's all she needed.  Start hearing voices and pretty soon she'd be answering them.  That would mean that she had finally lost it.

          Sleep overtook her tired mind.  "I'll take care of you," a voice whispered in the dark.  Carol smiled in her sleep and drifted back into the dream.

          Buzzzzz.

          Carol bolted up in the bed.  "Ohhh," she moaned, rubbing her head.  Headache.  Pounding headache.  She threw the covers back and trudged to the shower.  She let the water blast her for a full fifteen minutes.

          After she dressed, she went into the girls' room and flicked on the light.  Two masses of blond hair covered two matching pillows on equally matching twin beds.  Carol watched Heather and Holly sleep for a moment.  It had been hard on them.  The separation.   Heather had become a quiet, still child.   Holly had started having nightmares.

          Carol's heart ached for them.

          At least Holly hadn't had a nightmare the past few nights.  Carol hoped that it was a sign that she was adjusting to Tom's absence.

          Carol sighed.  This was the worst time of the day, waking them up out of a deep sleep, but it had to be done.  Not long ago, Carol's job had contributed extra money to the pot.  Now, it was their lifeline.  "Come on, you guys.  Let's get moving." Carol clapped her hands together, and then started pulling their clothes for the day out of the closet.  After a lot of grumbling and griping, Heather and Holly were finally dressed, fed, and in the car.

          It was 6:30 A.M.

          Carol drove them to the sitter, said her good-byes for the day, and raced across town to the factory.

          She hit the time-clock just as it flashed 7:00 A.M.

          Barely made it, she thought as she made her way to her machine. 

          She dropped her purse on the floor beside her chair, flicked her hair back over her shoulder and turned on the machine.  It hummed eagerly.

          "I see you finally made it," Elaine called out.

          Elaine Rhodes was her best friend.  Had been forever.  She ran the machine across the aisle from Carol.  Carol looked over at her and stuck her tongue out.  Elaine laughed and leaned back over her work.

          Carol straightened up in her chair and pulled the material from the table beside her work station and started feeding it through the machine.  She concentrated on her work.  Her machine danced its dance, never missing a step.

          Someone placed a hand on her shoulder.

          Carol jumped.  Her foot floored the speed control, sending the material through the machine as if the machine was starving and this was its first meal of the day.  Carol pulled her foot off of the control and slammed her hands into her lap.  The seam was three inches off now.

          "Geez, are you jumpy.  It's break time," Elaine said from behind her.

          Carol felt like screaming at the top of her lungs, but took a deep breath instead.   She turned the machine off and snatched her purse from the floor.  On the way to the breakroom, Carol and Elaine passed by the office windows.  Carol glanced in.

          Bart Knight, their foreman, sat behind a gray metal desk going over some paperwork.

          He looks just as good now as the day I hired in, Carol thought.  As soon as the thought passed through her mind, Bart looked up from his paperwork and smiled, his eyes directly meeting hers.  Carol felt herself blush.  She lowered her eyes and kept on walking.

          The two women sat down at the break table across from each other, two cups of coffee in between them on the tabletop.  Music issued softly from a speaker that hung above the snack machine.  The rest of the women in their department settled at the two tables closest to the water fountain at the front of the room, leaving the back of the room to Carol and Elaine.  That was fine with them.  Carol and Elaine were the two youngest of the group and they weren't interested in joining the Gray-Haired-Ladies Club yet.

          "You look like hell," Elaine said, taking a test sip from her cup.

          "Thanks, Laney.  I really wanted to hear that," Carol said.  She dug in her purse for a cigarette.  She lit it, noticing that her hand shook a lot more than it should have.

          "So, aren't you sleeping well or were you up all night for some other reason?"  Elaine grinned slyly.

          Carol opened her mouth to slay Elaine with a snappy comeback but before she could get the first word out, someone said, "Bitch." in her ear.  It was the same deep voice from the night before.  Only now, it was vicious in its intent.  And, she was completely awake.

          Carol's mouth snapped shut.

          Elaine frowned.  "What's wrong?"

          Carol took a gulp of her coffee, searing her throat in the bargain.  "Nothing," Carol said, almost choking.  She puffed her cigarette, looking anywhere but at Elaine.

          "Sure looks like something to me.  Come on, 'fess up."

          Carol met Elaine's eyes.  "Have you ever ... heard voices?"

          "What do you mean 'voices'?" Elaine asked.

          "You know, like someone talking in your ear or something.  But no one is there."

          "You're hearing voices?  What do they say?   When did this start?"  Elaine's brow furrowed, enhancing the wrinkles that had begun to form there over the past year.

          Carol figured that Elaine probably was concerned.  It had been Elaine's shoulder that she had done all the blubbering and crying on when Tom had come up with the revelation that she wasn't enough for him anymore.  There had been many afternoons after work that Carol had cried, tears seeming like they would never stop, as she and Elaine sat at her kitchen table and drank beer.  Elaine had always listened.  Elaine always had time to listen.  She was a true friend.

          "It started last night.  At first I thought it was the left-overs from a dream, but I heard it again.  Just now."  Carol flicked her ash in the ashtray.

          "What did it say?  Just now," Elaine said.

          Carol grinned in spite of herself.  "He called you a bitch."  The expression on Laney's face was exquisite.  Carol laughed.   Elaine was puffed up, a banty hen with her feathers ruffled.

          "A bitch?  Well, I ---."

          "Shhh," Carol warned.  Three of the older women at one of the front tables had turned in their direction.

          Elaine leaned across the table.  "Well, I'll be a --"

          "Bitch," Carol finished for her.

          Elaine gave her an exasperated look.  "You know, hearing voices is a sign that you're losing it.  If you keep hearing them, maybe you should see somebody.   Don't get me wrong.  I mean, after what you've been through in the last year, well ...."

          Carol knew Elaine meant well, but the thought of 'seeing someone' made a chill run up her back.  Wouldn't Tom just love that?  He all ready made it as hard as he possibly could when it came to the girls.

          Carol crushed out her cigarette.  Maybe Elaine was right.  Maybe she should talk to someone.  Maybe everything had taken more of a toll on her than she had realized. 

          "You don't need anyone else to take care of you.  You have me."

          The voice was inside her head this time.  What is going on, she thought, digging the cigarette butt around in the ashes?   Her nerves were about ready to snap.

          "... sandbox?"

          Carol looked up.  "Did you say something?" she asked Elaine.

          "I said -- do you like playing in that sandbox?"  Elaine moved the ashtray farther down the table.  "So.  You're hearing voices, evidently that of a man's voice.  Did you ever think that maybe your mind is trying to tell you that it's time you started dating?  Get on with your life?"

          Carol leaned back in the plastic chair.  "Laney --"

          Elaine raised her hand, her palm facing Carol.  "Listen.  It is about time.   I noticed that you've started reading romance novels.  Believe me, they don't take the place of a flesh and blood body.  In fact, there has been someone that I know asking about you and ---"

          Carol shook her head.  "No, thank you.  I don't have time for the dating thing.  With work and the girls, I don't have time for anything else."

          Elaine opened her mouth to say something else, but she must have thought better of it.

          Carol lit another cigarette and watched the blue-gray smoke drift lazily to the ceiling while she wondered if she wasn't going a little bit crazy.

          Elaine leaned back in her own chair and watched Carol smoke her cigarette.

          She was worried about Carol.  Had been for some time.

          Elaine sipped her coffee, remembering the night that Carol had called her sobbing so hard into the phone Elaine thought that something had happened to one of the girls.   It had taken ten minutes of soothing talk before Elaine could figure out what Carol had been trying to say.

          Tom had left her.

          Elaine had seen it coming.

          She had seen Tom and Becky Sanderson around town, having coffee down at Lester's, talking at the gas station.  Once, she had even seen them walking down town and Tom had been holding Becky's hand.  Elaine hadn't had the heart to tell Carol that Tom had been seeing Becky much longer than Carol knew.  It had hurt Elaine herself to watch Carol's marriage fall apart.  Carol had taken it extremely badly, blaming herself for not being enough for Tom, for becoming boring, any reason that came into her head because Tom, the coward, couldn't tell Carol about Becky.  Carol had found out from one of the tellers at the bank that Tom was going around with someone.

          Elaine hadn't wanted to add to Carol's pain.  Maybe she should have been the one to tell her, but she had wimped out.

          If she would just get out, have a little fun, Elaine thought as she watched Carol stare off into space.  Bart had been asking Elaine about her, in a shy sort of way.  Elaine knew that there was some sort of attraction between the two of them even though Carol had never said anything about it.  If only Elaine could get the two of them together....

          Elaine lit another cigarette and searched Carol's face.  Carol definitely looked tired.  Maybe she should keep a closer eye on Carol.

          After all, hearing voices was not a good sign.

          After work, Carol drove to the sitter's, thinking that nothing would suit her better than a long, hot bath.  She'd worked an extra hour over and she felt it in every muscle.

          She turned the corner onto Vine Street and pulled into the driveway of Mrs. Davidson's cozy Cape Cod house.  She beeped the horn.

          The girls came bounding out of the front door and the thought crossed Carol's mind again that if there weren't three years difference in their ages, the girls could be twins.   Their long blond hair, so much like Tom's, flowed out behind them like silken curtains as they ran, Heather's longer than Holly's, but Heather was older and had a head start on growing her long mane.  They were smiling, their green eyes twinkling jewels in the afternoon sun. 

          They both reached the car door at the same time.

          Then, the fight began.

          "I get to sit in the front.  It's my turn," Holly said, her six-year-old face pulling itself into her most stern grimace.

          "I'm the oldest," Heather snapped.

          Nine years old, going on nineteen, Carol thought as she leaned across the console and rolled down the window of the passenger door.  "You both can sit in the back," she said through the window.

          Twin 'aww's came from the almost identical mouths.  Carol opened the door.  "Get in."  Carol waited until they were both buckled up, and then put the car in reverse.  The car crept backwards.  She looked in the rear-view mirror.

          Carol slammed on the brake, jolting the two girls in the back seat.

          "Mommm ..." Heather said.

          Carol closed her eyes tight and held them that way until she had counted to ten.   She opened them and looked directly into the mirror.  There was nothing there except what should be.  The street behind them was reflected in miniature in the glass.  She watched as a pale blue Chevrolet Camaro passed behind them and drove on down the street.  Carol frowned.

          The first time that she had looked in the mirror, a pair of piercing blue eyes below a set of heavy black eyebrows had been staring back at her, seeming to be on the other side of the glass, or in it.  She reached up and adjusted the mirror.

          "Is everything all right?  They didn't forget something, did they?" Mrs. Davidson called from the front step.

          Carol waved to her.  "Everything's fine, Mrs. Davidson.  I'll see you tomorrow."  She took a deep breath and checked the mirror again.  No eyes this time.  She checked the traffic and finding the road clear, she backed out onto Vine Street.

          "Mom, can we bake cookies tonight?" Holly asked.

          Carol swiped a lock of hair out of her face.  "We'll see," she said.  Concentrate on your driving, she repeated over and over as she turned onto Main Street and headed south.  She turned left on Blanchard Avenue and drove one block to their house.  She pulled the car into the driveway and shut off the engine.

          Carol closed her eyes for a moment and breathed deeply, trying to calm the uneasy feeling that had descended over her like a fear-sodden cloak.  It had been weaving itself around her since she had heard the voice last night and when she had seen the eyes staring at her from the mirror, it had knitted itself into completeness.

          "Let me out!"  Holly was desperately trying to climb over top of Heather, wanting to be the first one out of the car.

          The struggle in the back seat brought Carol back to the real world.

          "Girls, I don't want any fighting tonight, okay?  If you do, we aren't going to be baking cookies.  Got it?"  Carol looked over her shoulder.  She raised an eyebrow, waiting for an answer.

          Both girls looked at her innocently.  They nodded in unison.

          "Okay.  Go on in.  I'll be right there," Carol said.

          The girls exited the car with all of the grace that a six year old and a nine year old could manage and walked into the house, hand in hand.  Carol saw her long, hot bath fly right out the window.  She would be baking cookies this evening.

          They ate a supper of hamburgers and Holly's favorite, french fries.  Heather rinsed the supper dishes and put them in the dishwasher while Carol and Holly arranged all the ingredients they would need to make Gramma's famous chocolate chip cookies.

          The three of them baked four dozen cookies.  It took almost two hours to do it and by the time they were done and Carol cleaned up the dusting of flour that always seemed to cover the kitchen floor whenever the girls helped, it was time for the two girls to take their bath and hit the sack.

          When they were both tucked into bed and the lights were turned out, Carol heaved a huge sigh.  She headed into her own bedroom and got her robe and nightgown and went straight to the bathroom.  She turned on the water in the tub and poured bath oil into it.

          While she was waiting for the tub to fill, she made herself a cup of coffee, grabbed her cigarettes and 'Justine's Promise', and took them all into the bathroom with her.

          She turned and locked the door.

          Just fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes to soak in the tub was all that she wanted.   Just that little bit of time, undisturbed.

          She shrugged off her clothes and stepped gingerly into the steamy water.

          She laid her head on the back of the tub, wincing for a second when her back touched the cold edge.  The water swirled around her and she closed her eyes.  Oh, it felt sooo good.

          When the water reached the overflow, she scooted down far enough and turned off the tap with her toes.  She reached over the edge of the tub and lit a cigarette, settled her cup of coffee on the edge of the tub and opened the book to where she had left off.

          It wasn't long before her eyes wouldn't focus on the words anymore and the water had turned chilly.

          Carol moved the half-empty coffee cup out of her way and stood up, the cooler air of the bathroom raising goose bumps on her skin.  Steam rose from her naked body as she stepped from the water and pulled the drain plug to let the water out of the tub.

          She dried off as quickly as she could and pulled her nightgown over her head.  The mirror on the medicine cabinet was fogged over with steam.   Carol took the towel that she had used to dry off with and rubbed it across the mirror's surface.  As the glass cleared, a form started to take shape.  Carol leaned closer to the glass.

          There was a shadow of someone, standing behind her.

          Something tapped her shoulder.

          Carol yelped and whirled around.

          Nothing.

          "Jesus."  Her heart pounded.   Boy, was her imagination running wild these days.  She shook her head, amazed at herself.  This was getting ridiculous.

          "Get yourself together, girl."  She finished her nightly routine and brushed her teeth.  She saw no more shadows in the mirror.  After putting on her robe, she took her coffee cup to the kitchen and wandered through the house, shutting off lights and checking doors.

          Checking doors was not a usual nightly routine, but Carol wasn't having a usual day either.  In River Bend, hardly anyone locked his or her doors at night.  You didn't need to.

          Tonight, Carol locked hers for the first time.