Waiting for the Moon

As she'd lain in her bed all those weeks, nestled in the bowels of some unimaginable darkness, her head pounding, her throat on fire, she'd known that Ian was there. She heard his voice, felt his touch. He'd coaxed her back from the pain-riddled void. It was for him that she'd finally opened her eyes.

Outside, the night beckoned in a thousand twisting, moving shadows. She wanted to be out there where Ian was, wanted it so badly she felt desperate.

She needed to experience life beyond the glass, to

85

smell the unknown scent of the rain and feel the forgotten kiss of the wind. To be a part of something.

The glass was so deceptively thin. So easily broken. So easily .. .

Break the glass ... touch the world . .. The outside beckoned in a sly, seductive voice.

She drew her hand back and made a fist.

No. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that it was dangerous to break glass. She would be hurt.

What she needed was to open the window.

She smiled, remembering suddenly how to do it. She twisted the little metal paddle and pushed the lower half of the window up. It creaked loudly, scraping as if it hadn't been moved in ages. An icy blast of wind hurled through the opening and slapped her cheeks.

She laughed in triumph. The world smelled so wonderful, so fresh and clean. Rain splattered her face in big droplets. She closed her eyes and let herself experience the moment?the taste, the smells, the sensations: sweet, sweet rain, cool, inviting wind that smelled like salt and wet earth. The trees whistled, waves smacked against hulking, black rocks.

She planted her hands on the wooden sill and stuck her head outside, breathing deeply. The secret, sensual world embraced her, filled her with a heady sense of possibility. It was all out there. Everything she'd ever wanted, ever would want.

Waiting for her .. .

She climbed onto the sill. Her white lawn nightdress stretched taut from her collar to her knees. The wind picked up, whipped through her tangled hair and stung her cheeks. The tight fabric of her gown fluttered in a quiet, thumping beat. For the first time since waking up, she felt alive. She licked the cold raindrops from her lower lip and shook her head.

Behind her, the bedroom lock clicked, the door squeaked open. "Sweet Mary!" someone cried out.

86

Footsteps thundered toward Selena. Light split the darkness. "Don't jump?you'll kill yourself."

Kill yourself. Selena felt a sharp, sudden chill at the words. She looked down. The lawn was a small, black patch two floors below. She knew suddenly that she could fall, could be hurt, but she hadn't thought of that before.

A hand curled around her wrist, steadied her. "You're okay, Selena." The man's voice was squeaky and weak. As if she wasn't okay at all.

Slowly, afraid now to fall, she turned around, and found herself staring into a concerned pair of pale gray eyes.

"I'm Andrew," he said quietly. "Do you remember me?"

She didn't remember him. Not him, and not any of the shadowy people clustered just beyond the door, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the warm, solid feel of his fingers around her wrist. What mattered was that someone had finally come for her, had touched her and seemed to care if she was okay or not.

She tried to answer him, but nothing came. It was as if some part of her brain had simply gone to sleep. Frustrated, she leaned toward him. Help me, she thought, please . .. help me. . . . The silent plea filled her heart. Her chest ached with the need to speak, and still the words were beyond her.

The boy, Andrew, touched her damp cheek and gave her a sad, understanding smile. "It can be very lonely here."

He curled an arm around her shoulders and drew her off the l

edge. Closing the window with one hand, he helped her back to the bed. When he'd retrieved the lamp and placed it on the bedside table, he turned to the open doorway and said, "Come on in, everyone. She's fine."

Gray-clad people moved into the room in a slow, shuffling procession. Selena recognized the red-haired

87

woman?Maeve?and the thumb-sucking girl. Behind them was a fat, wrinkly-faced woman who wore a tarnished crown on her graying hair. The three women formed a semicircle at the foot of the bed.