CHAPTER EIGHT
Jack walked in a couple of hours later, mildly buzzed. He saw Annie reading on the couch, no Claire in sight. He opened his mouth and Annie said "She's sleeping. Between the pain meds and the tea I gave her for relaxation, she was totally stoned."
Jack poured a drink and offered one to Annie, who declined. "How's she doing?"
Annie put her book aside. "She's worried about a lot of things, like how she can make love with you without freaking out, if her rapist has AIDS, and what to do if somehow her birth control failed."
"Wow." Jack sat down and rubbed his face. "Talk about heavy shit. Well, they sicced Dracula on the scumbag this morning, so we'll know in a few days if he has AIDS. She's on the Pill, so I don't know why she'd worry about pregnancy." He raised his eyebrows inquisitively.
"As I told her, shit does happen. Actually, I told her the universe tests us, makes us define who we really are, by challenging the things we claim to believe in most."
"And?"
"And she's one of those people who believe in the sanctity of life, i.e. the death penalty is absolutely wrong, while at the same time are pro-choice. So sometimes the universe forces one to make decisions that clarify what you truly believe."
"My mind boggles." Jack slugged back a healthy swallow of scotch. "You're into this New Age stuff, I know you truly believe in it and I'm not denigrating it out of respect for you, but do you really believe that?"
"I believe that one cannot hold two contradictory positions. How can one insist that the death penalty is wrong, and yet support abortion as an option?"
He thought about that. "I don't think the death penalty is wrong, and I'm pro-choice, at least in certain cases." He shook his head. "In cases of rape, abortion should absolutely be an option."
"Even if she doesn't know who fathered the fetus, you or her rapist?"
"Jesus, this is what you guys talked about?"
"Clarity brings healing."
"So what did she say?"
"That she'd want to bring your child into the world, but no way in hell would she want to carry her rapist's. And the question is, how would she know? And that narrows the concept of choice."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "I would insist she have an abortion, she's been traumatized enough without carrying a child of uncertain paternity." He finished his drink. "DNA isn't much use until the child's born."
"Do you think she's strong enough to go through with that? Personally, I think she's too fragile, too close to the breaking point right now."
"So why'd you bring it up?"
"I've known Claire for a long time, I know how her mind works, and she'd think of it all by herself before much longer. And if her start date came and went with no action, she'd really go into meltdown mode. She claims to be an agnostic, to be pro-choice, but she's also the product of Catholic schools, like you are." Annie's tone was gentle. "And she's really afraid of failing you in bed."
Jack blushed a little, and covered it by refilling his glass. "She has no worries there," he mumbled.
"What she meant was she's afraid she'll lose it, that rather than see you, feel you, it will be the man who violated her." Annie concentrated on sending calm understanding to Jack. She felt his resistance, and her increased efforts gave her a headache.
Jack swirled the scotch in his glass. "I won't go near her until she wants me."
"She trusts you," Annie said, the gentleness in her tone and attitude reaching Jack. "But you must be careful. It's good you want to wait for her. She's been betrayed before by someone who supposedly loved her, and it was devastating."
"Her mother?"
Annie nodded. "How much do you know about that relationship?"
"Not much."
"Then talk to her. It's not my place to tell her secrets."
Jack smiled. "How did two such different people become such good friends?"
Annie laughed. "Opposites attract, you know. And Smith was a wonderful place. Did you know Avery Bennett?"
He nodded.
"Avery personified wild child, she was born a decade or so too late. I can easily see Avery dancing naked in the mud at Woodstock." Annie's headache was getting worse. She turned off the lamp on the table next to her and asked Jack if there was anything for a headache.
"Migraine?" he asked, perceptively. He recognized the signs. When Annie nodded, he found Claire's pain medicine and offered one. She took it reluctantly, but the increasing pressure in her skull sealed the deal. Jack moved around, turning off most of the lamps, leaving the hood light in the kitchen burning. "Lie down," he suggested.
"I hate it that you're sitting in the dark in your own house. I can go lie down with Claire."
"I don't mind the dark, but if you'd be more comfortable in a bed, go ahead."
Annie was quiet, gently probing Jack's thoughts. It was one of her many skills, passed down through an unbroken line of women stretching back centuries. The farmhouse she owned in Vermont was part of her heritage, her family fled to the remote mountains of that state from Salem during the insanity known as the Witch Trials. One of the protective shields spread by the Goddess after that nightmare was the lack of belief in magic by the general population, it became a fantastical concept used in books, movies and TV shows. She sensed Jack's acceptance of her, his belief that she would help Claire, and she silently reassured him that she would. Then she sat up, struggling with the nausea that often accompanied her migraines. "I think I will lie down in bed," she said.
He nodded. "Can you find your way?"
"Yes, thank you." She moved slowly around shadowed obstacles to the open bedroom door. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the dark, she functioned in it quite well, and she eased down on the bed beside Claire. Sleep, have good dreams, my friend, she directed, claiming half of the blanket and turning on her side with her back to Claire. She quieted her inner voice, trying to pick up on Claire's overall state, probing the nudges the universe gave earlier. She felt the broken parts of her friend, the death of her innocence, the fragile trust she still had in a few people, but she did not sense life growing within her. Good, she thought, for that's one thing you don't need to deal with. The medicine kicked in and Annie, tired from her trip and pounded by the headache, surrendered to sleep.
Annie had the nightmares instead of Claire. She dreamed she found Claire, dead, in the bathroom, and in her pain and rage, unleashed the energy at her command. Windows shattered, faucets blew off and water shot into the air, the primal scream that issued from her brought others. The dream transitioned to Annie trying to live in a world without Claire, without knowing she was out there somewhere, always available. It was a world of shades of gray, and Annie moved through it like a zombie. Then she was in her altar room, casting the ancient spell from her family's Book of Shadows, calling her friend as huge pillar candles burned around her. And Claire appeared, with bloody wounds on her forehead, and Annie was confused, she'd been unmarked in the bathroom. This is the truth you don't want to know, Claire's spirit said before fading away.
Annie woke and sat up, sweating. For a moment she didn't know where she was, and then she felt movement beside her. She looked down and saw Claire. Blessed be, friend, she thought, and Claire opened her eyes. "I heard that," she said, groggy with sleep and a drug hangover. "What the hell did you give me yesterday?"
"Tea, that's all. It combined with your medicine, you were high as a kite." Annie looked around. "I meant to stay in a hotel."
Claire sat up, too, taking Annie's elbow in hand. "I don't want you to do that."
Annie smiled. "It's Jack's apartment, he can hardly be expected to sleep on the couch instead of his own bed."
Claire frowned, bit her bottom lip. "I haven't gone back to my apartment…"
Annie patted the hand holding her elbow. "Gotcha. I can cleanse it, bless it. Can you go to it with me?"
The thought frightened Claire, but she looked at the woman who had traveled so far to help. "If you want clean sheets," she said. "I smell coffee, Jack's up."
"I can't smell anything," Annie complained, good-naturedly, "unless it's strong."
"That's what you get for smoking." Claire got out of bed and carefully stretched. "You want the bathroom first?"
"No, go ahead. How do you think I won all those 'free beer til the first person pees' contests in college? World's most massive bladder." She got up, too, and watched as Claire quickly made the bed. She shook her head in amusement. "Girl, you never made your bed in college."
Claire stepped into her discarded jeans and buttoned them. "I didn't want to make Avery look bad," she said, and zipped. She walked out of the bedroom, and Annie heard a quiet "Morning, Jack," before she heard a squeaky hinge. Annie, still in yesterday's clothes, walked out to face the displaced man.
"Good morning," she said, finding him in the kitchen, pouring coffee. She took the mug he offered. "Thank you."
He filled another mug and set it aside, then refilled his mug. "She's actually talking," he said, as if good morning constituted a conversation.
"Yeah," Annie said. "I'm sorry I stole your bed, I meant to stay in a hotel. Claire wants me to stay in her apartment."
"She hasn't gone back there since it happened."
"So she said. But I can do some cleansing rituals, little things you probably find absurd but can bring comfort in times of stress."
He leaned against the stove and sipped his coffee. "If you wanted to dance naked on the courthouse steps, and it would comfort Claire, I'd say go for it."
The squeaky hinge signaled her approach. Jack picked up the prepared coffee and gave it to Claire when she joined them. "Thanks," she said.
"Tilt your head," he said, and when she did, he looked at the bandage for signs of seepage. "It's good," he said.
"Nurse Jack," Claire said, and a fond smile broke on her battered face. She rubbed her jaw, it was aching like hell this morning, and his sharp eyes noticed. He left them in the kitchen and came back with a dose of medicine, watching while she took it. Annie realized it was the one way he felt useful, that he was helping, in a situation where only Claire's inner resources would be of use. "Let's sit, like civilized people," she muttered.
Annie sat in the wing chair near the desk while they took the couch. Jack stacked his pillow and blanket at one end, but did not sit too close to Claire. Annie glanced at the grandfather clock, it was later than she thought, almost nine. She looked at the windows and realized it was raining, no wonder Claire's jaws ached.
"Maybe I should get settled at your place," Annie said, looking at Claire, waiting for her reaction.
She saw panic and fear, a stiffening of Claire's body, but her voice was steady as she said "I'll go with you, show you where everything is."
"Claire—"
"It's OK, Jack, I have to go back there sometime. And God knows, you need some time to yourself. I won't be gone long. We won't," she amended, looking at Annie.
Annie busied herself packing up her candles and other paraphernalia while they whispered. Jack wanted Claire to stay away from the apartment until she was stronger, and Claire told him she felt safe with Annie. He wouldn't believe it was because Claire had seen Annie hurl energy in the past, that she was powerful enough to protect Claire if protection was needed. He didn't need to believe it, Annie thought, it would only add to his guilt and sense of inadequacy.
While Claire showered, Jack sat across from Annie. "I hope you know what you're doing."
"She does have to face it sometime. I won't push it, if she's too uncomfortable, we'll leave." Hers was a quiet confidence, a certainty that the universe would arrange things properly and this was the right course of action. And she did need a place to stay while in New York.
Claire came out in jeans and an old Harvard sweatshirt, her hair still damp. Jack watched, uneasily, as they walked out of his apartment, a study in contrasts. Claire towered over Annie, was dark where Annie was fair, logical and serious whereas Annie lived in some New Age fantasy. He sighed. Whatever works, he thought.