Her grandmother’s shoulders made a funny little up-and-down movement. "I imagine your mother’s upset about that.”
"Big time,” Karen assured her. "Luckily Thom was there. He’s a calming influence?”
Beverly’s pencil-thin eyebrows arched expressively. "A calming influence?”
"Yes. He drove her to the airport. You know what, Grandma? I hope Thom Nichols sweeps my mom right off her feet. That’s what she really needs, a man who loves her. Not someone like my dad, who only knows how to love for a little while. Thom’s the kind of man who loves for a long time.”
"How wise you sound, child,” her grandmother said softly.
Karen sat up in bed and arranged the covers around her hips. "Paula and I’ve got it all figured out,” she said, speaking fast because she was excited and happy. "Paula’s mom died and my dad left us, and she likes my mom and I think her dad’s really cool. So we decided the four of us would make a really, really great family.”
"You think that, do you?”
"Yup. Now all we need to do is convince everyone else involved. Did Mom tell you about the romantic dinner Paula and I cooked for her and Thom?” Karen was proud of that.
"I can’t say that she did.”
"She didn’t tell you?” Karen was appalled, and after all the work she’d gone to, too. "The spaghetti sauce was a little too thick, and the noodles overcooked, but only a little. Mom and Thom did a good job of making it sound like everything was perfect, though. They were great about it.”
"So how’d everything go?”
Karen covered her mouth and giggled. "They kissed, and they weren’t even standing under the mistletoe.” She lowered her voice so her grandpa wouldn’t overhear her. "It wasn’t the first time I saw them kissing, either.”
Karen noticed how her grandmother’s interest piqued when she started talking about the two of them kissing.
"I see,” Beverly Shields said. "Well, that does sound promising.”
"We think so.”
"We?” Beverly questioned.
"Paula and me. You know, Grandma, when we first moved to this neighborhood I didn’t think I’d ever make friends again. Then I met Paula, and it was like God wanted the two of us to be together. Already we’ve decided to be friends for life.”
"That’s wonderful, sweetheart.”
"I just wish…” She lowered her lashes, because it did hurt to think about her mom and her dad and the way they continued to hate each other.
"What do you wish?”
"Nothing.” She didn’t want to talk about it, not even with family.
Beverly stood. "You’ll call me if you need anything.”
"I’m not a kid anymore.”
"Sometime I forget that, Karen,” Beverly said softly. "You’ll need to forgive me.”
"That’s okay.” She rolled onto one side and pulled the covers over her shoulder.
"Sleep well.”
Her grandmother stood in the doorway, her hand on the doorknob. She hesitated, and Karen liked to think that maybe her grandma was saying a prayer over her the way she had that one night. She hoped that she was.
"I’ll sleep good,” Karen promised, but she wasn’t so sure about that. It never felt right when she wasn’t in her own bed with her own pillow that she could beat up and bend just the way she liked.
The room went dark when the door closed, and Karen kept her eyes wide open for a couple of minutes until they adjusted to the lack of light. She’d rather she was home. Not that she was afraid.
It was the dream that worried her. The last time she’d spent the night at her grandparents’ house, the nightmare had come. She didn’t want it to return.
It was a long time before Karen felt herself relax enough to fall asleep.
It happened then the way it always did. She was in a bedroom in a home she didn’t recognize when she heard her mom and her dad arguing. She was younger than she was now, probably only five, because she was sitting on the floor, playing with baby dolls. Doll clothes were scattered all over the carpet, and she was afraid her parents were angry because she’d made such a big mess.
The fighting grew louder and louder, and Karen covered her ears. But even that didn’t help. The words were cruel and ugly and seemed so sharp that they cut at her skin even though they weren’t directed at her.
Karen moved into the kitchen, where her mother and father were shouting, only now they were speaking in a foreign language. She couldn’t understand what they were saying any longer. But the words were just as ugly and spiked, so that each one hurt the other. Not just Karen, but each other. Her father’s face was bloody from all the words. Her mother’s, too.
Desperately Karen tried to get Maureen’s attention, thinking she could distract her mother easier than she could her father. But when she walked over and tugged at Maureen’s blouse, her mother ignored her and gestured for her to move away. Her hands, Karen noticed, had blood on them from all the ugly words.
Frantic now, Karen went to her father next and pleaded with him to stop and listen to her. But he was embroiled in the intense argument and ignored her.
Distraught by this point, Karen stood on a chair and screamed for them to notice her. But it did no good. She held out her arms to them, but they were always just out of reach.
Then there was a knife, a big one that looked like the kind hunters used. It appeared as if by magic. It was polished and gleamed in the light. Sometimes her mother was the one holding the knife, and at other times it was her father.
This time it was her father.
He raised his arm and pulled the knife back, all the while talking to her mother in the language Karen couldn’t understand.
Maureen’s eyes were round and terrified as she backed away. The knife grew bigger and sharper. Her mother’s voice pleaded with him. Karen still couldn’t understand the words, but she knew that her mother was afraid. Karen was afraid for her. Maureen ran and hid in the bathroom and locked the door.