The mention of Grandma’s necklace triggered something sad. Yet Claire couldn’t remember why the sadness came. She couldn’t seem to remember . . .
Emily, being three years older than Claire, was the bride. But she also had the responsibilities of the mother of the bride. Their mother should be there but she wasn’t. The girls only had each other. It was Emily’s wedding, yet she encouraged Claire.
“Yeah, you wish. I just want you to know John secretly loves me! We wanted to tell you, but you know?” Claire smiled at her sister and her green eyes sparkled.
“Honey, he isn’t secretive about that. He loves you, you are his little sister.”
“Yeah, I know. I have to beat the men off with sticks. Okay, I will wear green. But for my wedding, I am finding you the gaudiest bubblegum pink dress you’ve ever seen.” The two sisters laughed. Emily helped Claire out of the dress and they continued their shopping. They had so many things to do before the wedding. Together they would do it all.
Just like the little girls with the juice, they were there for one another. After their parents died they only had each other. John understood. He never tried to come between them. Even when Claire moved in with them later as newlyweds they welcomed her.
Briefly Claire could see their home in Troy, New York. Not large, it could be described as crowded. Seeing it again from afar filled Claire with affection and warmth. John worked long hours, and Emily had her teaching responsibilities. But they still managed to make Claire feel welcome. She suddenly wondered if she’d ever thanked them. She couldn’t remember . . .
The scenes faded faster now. The warmth and strength evaporated. The blackness returned and pulled her in. Claire instinctively wanted to get away from the blackness. The serenity transformed into coldness. She opened her eyes and saw it, the cold blackness staring back at her. She gasped and closed her eyes, but then she could hear the voices again coming from different directions. “Claire, are you awake?”
“Ms. Claire, please come back to us.”
Tony spoke fast, “She opened her eyes. I saw it, just a second ago.” She could feel his hand on hers. “Can you hear me?” He continued speaking to Catherine, “Go get the doctor. He’s getting food in the kitchen. Let him know she is finally waking.” And with a different tone, one of desperation and affection, he said, “Claire, please open your eyes.”
Do you know what happens to scar tissue?
It’s the strongest part of the skin.
—Michael R. Mantell
Chapter 21
Claire inhaled, her chest felt tight, and there was a deep ache on her right side. She tried to remember. How did she get this way? She felt so weak. She tried to move her hand to touch Tony’s, even the attempt exhausted her.
There was an odd feeling on her left arm. She turned her head to see what was making her arm feel strange. Everything blurred out of focus. The light in the room was so intense that she couldn’t see. Tony noticed her eyes squint, immediately got up from the side of her bed, and closed the drapes. He returned and picked up her hand. “It was too bright in here. I closed the drapes for you. Is that better?”
Claire tried to respond; she couldn’t speak. Her mouth was too dry. She moved her head ever so slightly, indicating “Yes, it is better.” The movement of her head made her dizzy. The inability to speak frightened her. Her eyes moistened. She closed them, and a tear escaped down her cheek.
“It is okay, you don’t need to talk.” Tony’s tone was kind and loving. “Please open your eyes again. It was so good to see your beautiful emerald eyes.” He continued gently holding her hand. Claire opened her eyes and looked at the needle taped to the bend of her left arm. As if reading her mind, he explained, “That is how you have been eating for almost two weeks. And it has some pain medicine too, trying to make you more comfortable.”
Claire started to remember: she was in the woods, came home, and Tony . . . The memory made her eyes open wider. She looked at Tony. Her eyes filled with panic. She remembered.
Tony’s voice continued, gentle and comforting. “Can you remember what happened? You had an accident.” Claire tried to say, “No, you did this,” but she couldn’t. It may have been the dryness of her tongue or the horror of the images, but she just stared at him as he continued. “You had an accident in the woods. When we found you, your jeans and boots were all muddy, and you had multiple injuries. Did you fall? Did you slip? Did someone or something hurt you out there? We have had the woods searched. Nothing was found. Claire, we have been so worried about you.”
The stiffness in her neck made turning it painful, and the dizziness made focusing difficult. She could hear Catherine. Someone was with her. Was it the doctor? Whoever he was, he was right in front of her; an older man with a very pleasant encouraging deep voice.