Cemetery Girl

Abby smiled down at me, with a forced smile I recognized. As Abby became increasingly involved with the church, I saw that smile more and more. The church believed in the power of positive thinking, and its members were encouraged to present a happy face to the world. I wasn’t sure if Pastor Chris actually taught his followers that they could change the world through smiling, but I wouldn’t have doubted it.

“And this dream made you feel better?” I asked.

“The dream and the way things worked out last night. Caitlin came back.”

“You know they told us the pregnancy test was negative? I don’t think I want a grandchild out of this deal.”

Abby’s facade melted. “Why would you say a thing like that, Tom?”

“I’m helping you interpret your dream.”

“Why do you always have to see the negative side of things?” She looked behind her again. “I was thinking of it metaphorically, that it was saying Caitlin could be happy again.”

“It just seems silly to place that much stock in a dream, doesn’t it?” I settled back against the pillows. “It’s wish fulfillment. Did you used to have dreams about Caitlin coming back?”

“Sometimes.”

“I did, too. And in those dreams, she would come home and she’d be happy to see us and we’d be happy to see her. And when she came in the door, we’d know where she’d been and how she’d been taken, and it always, always made sense, just like your dream made sense to you.”

Abby looked at the floor. I could tell she wasn’t showered yet, and I was reminded of the first nights we’d spent together, the mornings when Abby wouldn’t believe me that I thought she looked beautiful even then, just after waking up.

“We almost had another baby together,” I said.

“Oh, Tom.”

“Where was I when it happened? How did you hide it from me?”

She shook her head. “Tom. .”

“I want to know. I have a right to know.”

“You were at school. It was early in the day. The cramps were terrible, then bleeding. I knew what was happening.” She looked up. “I almost called you. I did.”

“But?”

“I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell you.”

The water shut off in the bathroom. Abby turned away and said, “Are you okay, honey? I’m right here.”

Caitlin said something I couldn’t make out. Abby started to leave, but I said her name, stopping her.

“You called Pastor Chris, right?” I said. “He took you to the doctor.”

Abby nodded slowly. “When you came home that day, I was in bed. I said I had a stomach thing. You slept in here so you wouldn’t catch it.”

Before Abby could go again, I spoke up. “I just wanted to ask you one other thing, about this dream of yours. Something about it doesn’t make sense.”

“What, Tom?”

“Why-if Caitlin is coming to this house in the dream and in the future-why are you the one who’s here and opening the door for her? I thought you wanted to go.”

“It’s a dream, Tom. .”

“So it doesn’t mean anything? Or does it?”

Abby turned away.

“I’m going to help her get ready,” she said.

We went to a bland brick and glass office building downtown where Dr. Rosenbaum kept an office for his private practice. He met us in the reception area, and I expected him to have something to say about the night before and Caitlin’s attempted escape. But he didn’t. Maybe it was because she was there, or maybe he was simply in a hurry, but he told us he wanted to talk to Caitlin alone first. We let him lead her behind a closed door into his office, while we sat in uncomfortable chairs filling out the insurance forms the receptionist gave us.

No other patients came or went. There was no TV, no piped-in Muzak, and few magazines. I wished I’d brought a book, anything to distract me. Abby picked up a women’s magazine, something with the promise of diet tips plastered across the front, and started paging through. She turned the pages quickly, snapping them from the right to the left. Things hung in the air between us, heavy as lead. Her dream. The miscarriage. Pastor Chris.

We didn’t talk about them.

My phone rang. Liann.

I took the call out in the hallway.

“I was going to call you last night, as soon as I heard the news,” Liann said. “I wanted to scream when I saw it and come right over. But I figured you were occupied. How does it feel? How is she? Tell me.”

“We’re at the shrink’s office right now.”

“What’s wrong? You sound awful.”

I told her about the night before, about Caitlin coming home and almost immediately running away again.

“Now don’t even worry about that. That’s just a bump in the road. And there are going to be bumps along the way, I promise. That girl’s been through a lot. She’s confused. Very confused. You just have to hang in there.”

“Right.”

“I just wish. .”

“What?” I waited for an important insight.

“Shit. I wish we could have followed her,” Liann said. “She would have led us right back to that snake who took her. It would have been so easy, like a trail of bread crumbs. The cops are so dumb. They just want to run right out and grab her and bring her back. They don’t even want to stop and think.”