My Soul to Keep Part 39

She could not give Kira this blood. The blood was a temporary respite with an everlasting curse: exile from wherever all children's souls go. Hold tight to Kira for me. Could G.o.d be so cruel? Holding on to Kira only meant letting go.

Jessica heard wounded sobs, and of course they were her own.

David's voice was faint as he lay crumpled against the wall, seeing nothing, breathing the last breath of a corpse. "... The blood flows ... without end ... as a river ... through the Valley ..."

Of Death, Jessica thought, half insane, already mourning. When she tried to speak, this time her mouth refused.

Of Death.

The men-police officers, Jessica realized now, sitting up in the bed with a blanket wrapped around her because she was shaking uncontrollably and one of the officers had decided she must be cold-fussed and worked over Kira on the dingy carpeting for what seemed like hours. They were afraid to try to put her in the waiting ambulance until her heart started beating again. And for some reason, it would not.

While Jessica waited, the things she noticed puzzled her.

For instance, she'd see glimpses of how Kira's hair was standing on end, and she wished it was neater so they could see what a beautiful child she was. And she noticed how Teacake, every few minutes, stuck his head out from beneath the bed to see what the commotion was about, then darted back into hiding. And how, even though David hadn't moved in the longest time, his mouth was open slightly, trying to finish his sentence even now.

Her mind would not let go of the details. Maybe it was so that while she watched everything around her, she wouldn't really see it for what it was. This was her family.

These strangers were trying to comfort her, and yet they didn't know Kira had thought they were going to Disney World on this trip, and that she had asthma, and that she had asked Jessica once if there was such a thing as a good monster; or that David, for all the terrible truths she'd told the police, was the most loving and perfect husband and father anyone could imagine. Wasn't that strange? They just didn't know.

The first gurney was for David. She watched two ambulance technicians, dressed in white, lift her husband's limp body, making his wrists swing back and forth. One of the men pushed David's eyes closed first, then they covered him with a sheet. Like he was gone for good. Why had they done that?

Oh, yes, Jessica remembered. They didn't know.

"He's not dead," Jessica called out to them as they rolled the gurney past her. One of the officers, a sister, squeezed Jessica's shoulder beneath the blanket and gave her a pitying look. Her haircut reminded Jessica of Alex.

"He's not dead," Jessica said again, looking at her earnestly.

Funny. Jessica didn't think the police were supposed to get emotionally involved, and yet this sister had tears in her eyes. The officer took Jessica's hand and rubbed it.

"Mrs. Wolde? I want you to try to walk outside with me," she said softly, as though they were the only people in the room.

Jessica didn't stand. Instead, she looked at the doorway and saw a second gurney waiting. Kira's. She looked again at the floor, where three paramedics were huddled over her daughter, pus.h.i.+ng on her chest, doing something to her throat, nearly blocking her from Jessica's view. All she could see was Kira's tiny orange sneakers on her feet, twitching occasionally when the men jolted her body.

One of Kira's laces was untied. Someone had to tie Kira's shoe, Jessica thought, or else she might trip.

Then, as if it had been waiting, grief washed over Jessica; a waterfall, unrelenting. The officer was trying to help her stand, but now Jessica was on her knees. She was making a sound from her chest she herself didn't recognize.

"It's all right, Mrs. Wolde," the officer was telling her, trying to lift her and lead her to the open doorway. Jessica lurched again, and a man grabbed Jessica with his st.u.r.dy arm. "She'll be all right, Mrs. Wolde. We need you to wait outside."

Yes, Kira would be all right.

Maybe David had finished the Ritual before he died.

Maybe she could have her back.

"She's dead now, but you check on her," Jessica was saying as the police led her into the darkness, where a small crowd of more strangers parted to clear her a path. She saw the men in white close the doors to the first ambulance, locking David inside.

"In the morning, you check on her. See if she's healed. Don't forget to check on my baby. You hear what I'm saying? The blood heals," Jessica told the sister, clinging to her sleeve.

No one was saying a word. Jessica had never heard such a silence. All she heard was the sound of her own heartbeat, thumping stronger in her ears, and she drew in a breath as if she'd never before tasted the night.

60.

Kira didn't know how she'd gotten there, but she realized suddenly that she was back at home. She was in the cave. And it was still night, so dark she could barely see.

But she wasn't alone. It was too dark to make out Grandpa's face, but she could see his outline from his glow, like moonlight. She laughed, calling his name. For the first time since she'd seen Mommy crying when they were driving in the van and Daddy wasn't there, she wasn't the least bit scared. When Mommy and Daddy had been fighting over the pills, she'd been the most scared of all, maybe the most scared ever. Now, she felt like laughing.

Hey, Pumpkin. Didn't I say you'd be back soon? He was talking to her without moving his mouth.

"Grandpa, guess what happened! A man came-"

"Oh, I know all about that," Grandpa said, breathing out a sigh as though the man with the gun and the shot and the fighting was all nothing. "That stuff ain't important. Is it?"

Kira, smiling, shook her head.

Now, she could see him. It was like the sun came out, s.h.i.+ning only on Grandpa, and she could see him better than she ever had. She could see light glowing on every hair on his moustache, every line on his dark, dark face. She'd never seen anything so wonderful. So magical.

"Kira, do you remember the story of Lin?"

"And the red dragon. And they were best friends. And they flew into the sky."

"That's right," Grandpa said, smiling. "Well ... Grandpa told a little fib. That isn't really a story about a boy named Lin all the way in China. I made that up. It's a story about you."

"Me?" Kira asked, delighted. She felt Grandpa's light glowing on her face too. The cave was warm the way her covers felt when she curled underneath them if her window was open on a cold night. "But you said Lin's parents were wizards."

"Right again, you smart girl. Lin's parents are wizards. And your parents are wizards too. What did I tell you about wizards?"

Kira remembered every word. It was her favorite story. "Wizards have a lot of work to do. And they have powers. And they can't live in the sky."

Grandpa was proud of her. She could see it in his face. He looked happy and sad all at once, and he wanted to hug her.

"Turn around, Kira," Grandpa said. "Look outside."

When Kira turned around, she saw something amazing. It was a long red snout, scaly all over, sniffing at the mouth of the cave. Bright red, like a lobster Daddy cooked in the big pot. Even more red than that. A black tongue longer than her arm darted out, nearly touching her.

A real dragon! Kira was scared. "Grandpa!" she cried, about to run to him.

"No, Kira," Grandpa said. "Look again."

Oh, Kira realized, she was just being silly. It wasn't a dragon at all. The animal's fur was really black, and she heard a loud, deep bark. It was only Princess. Where in the world had Princess been so long? Mommy and Daddy had been looking for her.

Princess lowered herself on her haunches, looking like she was smiling, her big pink tongue hanging from her mouth. She crawled into the cave, her big tail wagging back and forth. Princess looked real and not real, almost like a cartoon.

Kira had tears in her eyes, but it was from being happy. She leaped to Princess and hugged her big neck. Princess smelled the same, just like before.

"Are you happy to see Princess, Kira?"

"Yes!" Kira cried.

"Well, see if you can climb on her back. I think she wants to take you for a pony ride. Remember how she did that?"

The entire cave was glowing now. The sun must have come out for real. Kira could barely see Princess for all the light.

"Like the dragon?"

"Could be," Grandpa said.

Kira started to scoot one leg over Princess's back. Then she stopped and tried to see Grandpa again. "Grandpa ..."

"Yes, Pumpkin?"

"Can I ever come back?"

His face was the light, Kira saw. That must be why everything was so warm and felt so good, because it was all from Grandpa. She couldn't see him anymore, but she could hear his voice around her.

"For visits? Of course you can. Anytime you want. Just like Lin. And you'll see, Mommy and Daddy will be just fine."

So, Kira clasped Princess's neck and wrapped her legs over her dog's back. Princess stood up, very gently, so she wouldn't knock Kira off. When Princess began to run, Kira felt a cool wind brus.h.i.+ng her face. She felt a b.u.mp-b.u.mp, b.u.mp-b.u.mp as Princess's paws. .h.i.t the ground with every leap. Princess was giving her the fastest pony ride of all!

Kira closed her eyes, smiling. Soon, there were no b.u.mps at all, just the wind and the light, and Kira held on, held on, with all the strength she could find.

61.

For a day and a half, the entire time Jessica Jacobs-Wolde had been admitted to Southeastern General Hospital in New Orleans, she had uttered only the same two words, and she said them with regularity when anyone on the hospital staff visited her.

No blood.

Today, she'd already said it six times. Finally, Bea had to protest, chiding the slim Creole woman who'd been encouraging her to do what the doctor wanted: "The child said she doesn't want any blood tests. Can you please just let her be?"

Reporters were also calling, some of whom she knew. Even Sy called once-it didn't surprise her that he got through to the room-but Bea answered the phone and told him, please, not to give them any more pain just now.

Jessica wished she could do her own talking. Her mother had been through so much already that she hated to be another burden. The problem was, she just couldn't think of any other words. Every time she tried, her mind wrapped itself up tight. The only thing she really knew was that she was alive because David must have given her his blood. And if the doctors did any tests on her, they would find the same thing Alex had found. And Jessica didn't want that to happen. Not now. Not yet.

Jessica had known instantly because of the way her body felt once the headache was gone: fresh, untried. But to be sure, she scratched her wrist until it bled the first night, and the injury was gone by the time she woke up six hours later. Only a slight tickle was left to mark the spot. So now, she was sure.

Bea had learned that Jessica was at a hospital in New Orleans as soon as Alex got out of surgery in Miami; Jessica didn't think her mother had slept at all in at least two days, and looked it. But Bea's behavior hadn't changed. She talked on, never letting go of Jessica's hand. She was telling her stories about so-and-so down her street, whomever the young a.s.sistant pastor was supposed to be sleeping with, something funny she'd heard on a television talk show at Jackson. And how Randall Gaines had stolen a kiss from her outside Alex's room, talking about getting married. "Man must be going stir-crazy," Bea said. He'd insisted on flying with her to Louisiana, then turned right back around to go to Miami so Alex wouldn't be alone.

Listening to Bea's voice, Jessica imagined her mother was smiling. But whenever she looked at her mother's face, she only saw hurting, the parts Bea couldn't bury. And when Bea came back from her long trips to the bathroom, her face looked swollen and her eyes were watery and red. But then she'd start her stories again.

"I think you're going home today, baby," Bea was saying. "Alex will be so glad to see you. She had some hairy moments, but she made it through surgery like a fighter. She'll have to go to rehab, and the doctors say she should be able to walk. It may not seem that way now, but this family is blessed. It really is. You just have to keep sight of that, Jessica."

Another doctor came into the room, the same one she'd seen in the beginning. He was very young-almost too young, Jessica thought-and red-haired. He had freckles up and down his arms. The doctor smiled briefly, but he didn't try to look happy for her, since he knew she had nothing to be happy about. He sat at the foot of her aluminum bed, pulling her chart from its slot.

"Mrs. Wolde, you sure we can't convince you to let us do blood work? You had dangerously high levels of a drug called flurazepam hydrochloride in your urine sample yesterday, and some other irregularities we'd like to study."

"No blood," Jessica said, for the seventh time.

"Jesus help, we've told you people-" Bea began.

The doctor half smiled, holding up his freckled hand to signal his surrender. "We're not trying to hara.s.s you, I promise. We only want her to leave us in the best condition possible. And there is one thing worth rejoicing about, Mrs. Wolde. Despite your ordeal, the baby seems fine."

Jessica was sure the doctor had just been speaking to her, but she couldn't seem to recall what he'd just said. Even Bea was silent this time, letting go of Jessica's hand slightly.

Had he really said something about her baby?

"Kira," Jessica said, half sitting, unexpectedly thinking of something to say. She'd wondered why it was taking so long for someone to tell her that Kira was all right. She'd only been afraid to ask, hiding from an answer she didn't want to know.

The doctor blushed bright red, seeing their faces. "No," he said. "You mean your daughter? I'm sorry. I really am. I'm sure someone must have told you what happened, Mrs. Wolde. Rescue was never able to revive her. Her windpipe was broken. The autopsy-"

"What baby is fine?" Bea asked in a tight, strained voice, cutting him off, not wanting to hear anything else about Kira.

"Mrs. Wolde, you're six weeks pregnant. Did you know that?"

Bea gasped. Her eyes, wide open, swept to Jessica's. Jessica was still confused about what the doctor was saying.

"We learned that from the urine tests. That's one of the reasons we wanted to examine you more thoroughly. A drug like that isn't healthy for a fetus."

At first, Jessica thought the sound was coming from her, but it wasn't. It was coming from her mother: a bruised and exhilarated sob. Bea leaned over to hug her. She was close to hysterics, and Jessica wondered how she'd kept it in so long.

As much as Jessica wanted to cry with Bea, she could not. She was beginning to understand things now. About Kira being gone. Gone. And about an unborn child she didn't know anything about, who must have been conceived ... when? That night with David at the cabin. When she didn't have her pills.

A baby inside her. A baby being nourished with her new blood.

Jessica couldn't be happy. And she couldn't yet bear to be sad. She was a statue in her mother's arms.

"So, like I said, at least there's a little good news."

"A miracle," Bea was sobbing. "Jessica, do you hear? You're going to have a baby. Another baby. Oh, Lord Jesus, thank you. It's like the Bible says, *you giveth and you taketh away.' It won't be Kira, Lord, but we know you had your reasons for taking her. We don't understand, but please help us. Help us. And thank you, Jesus, for this baby. Thank you."

In Jessica's overwhelmed mind, only one thought could fight its way to her lips: "David's gone. Where is he?"

She felt her mother turn rigid. The doctor shared an uncomfortable glance with Bea, clearing his throat before speaking. "Jessica, how did you hear about that ... ?" Bea whispered.