When Lightning Strikes

Somehow, it was real.

Her mind fumbled for something?some philosophy or point of reference to cling to?anything that would make this moment possible. Time travel, magic, and death all came to her as possible explanations, but she discarded them promptly. She'd dug through a fair amount of metaphysical research for a ghost book she'd once done. None of it had touched her, or made much sense. In the end, she'd decided most of it was a bunch of bunk. But even so, nothing she'd ever heard or read about made travel to a fictional world possible.

Despair pulled her into a dark pit from which she couldn't seem to emerge. She felt tired suddenly, inexpressibly tired. For the first time in years, she wanted to crawl in a hole somewhere, in the dark, and simply cease to exist. Maybe then she could finally wake up and all of this would have been a nightmare. She and Kelly would?

She gasped and threw her head up, looking around again. Her heart started pounding in her chest, so loud and thudding, she couldn't hear anything else. Panic sluiced through her body, left her shaking and icy cold.

Kelly.

Soon Kelly would come home, laughing, excited, filled with stories of camp. She'd knock on the door, or pick up the telephone ... something, anything to get hold of her mother. But there'd be no answer, no door flung open in greeting, no answering shriek of welcome, no "I missed you." The house would be cold and empty.

Lainie had seen that empt

y house before, had come home to it when she was eleven years old. At the memory, she felt sick.

She squeezed her eyes shut, battling the wave of horrifying images and memories that crept at the edges of her

118

mind, taunting her, reminding her. She remembered it all: the glare of fluorescent lighting, the clicking hum of a rattling old radiator in a state-run building, the smell of a hundred new beds with sheets that never belonged to her first. We don't know where your parents are, honey. You 'II have to come with us. .. . The Georges are such nice people. .. . The Yannicks are such nice people. ... The Hoi-dens will take you for a while, but no more acting up... . The Grays will take you, but . . . The Rivers . . . The Smiths ... The Kents . . .

Oh, yeah. Lainie knew what happened to children who came home to empty houses.

But it wouldn't happen to Kelly.

Lainie wouldn't let it.

She scrambled to her feet, ready to run, to scream, something. But what? For a breathless moment, she couldn't move, couldn't think about anything except her baby. Her precious, beautiful little girl.

A scream built in her throat. Reflexively she clamped a hand over her mouth to still it.

"Oh, God." The terrified, formless prayer slipped through her fingers.

Fortune Flats. The words came to her like a gift from God, giving her something to cling to, something to hang on to.

However she'd gotten here, it had been through Fortune Flats. That had to be the doorway. If there was a way home, it was through Fortune Flats.

She had to go back.

Chapter Ten

f

Lainie could barely breathe by the time she reached Killian's cabin. The stitch in her side was a great, stabbing pain that intensified with each inhalation. She skidded to a stop and grabbed for the latchstring.

But before she even touched it, doubt crashed in on her.

He won't help you. No one will help you.

A tiny, yelping sound of panic escaped her.

She took a deep breath and held it until she felt dizzy, then slowly she exhaled. "Calm down, Lainie," she said firmly. "Calm down."

Unexpectedly she remembered the ledge. Killian had been different then, not the hard-bitten outlaw with a gun, nor the ruthless villain she'd created. He'd talked her through her fear, and in his eyes she'd seen an understanding that surprised her. Maybe if she could find that in him again, draw it out of him, he'd help her.

It wasn't much hope, but it was something, and she'd worked with less.

She let out one final breath and shoved the door. It swung open with a whining creak and cracked against the wall. Dirt rained down from the open rafters. The chicory aroma of coffee hung in the small room, thick and tantalizing.