 
SHADOWED

By

J.R. Boydston

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 J.R. Boydston

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
CHAPTER ONE

LIFE

"Is that everything?" Douglas Green asked, pressing a hand to his lower back. It had been paining him more and more lately. With a mental shrug he thought, that's whacha get for gettin' old, Doug ol' boy.

"I think so." Osmond Green's voice was a hushed tenor. Doug didn't like the lifeless sound of it or the lost look in his grandson's eyes. His heart went out to the boy, but he knew that his sympathy would only make it worse for Oz.

"We better go see what Maw has cooked for breakfast. She wouldn't want to send you off on an empty stomach." Doug said as he gave his grandson's shoulder a hard squeeze.

"No, Paw, I don't have time, not if I'm gonna beat traffic. I'll just go in and give her a kiss good-bye." The thought of a long, teary-eyed meal brought some heat to Oz's voice. He knew it would be more than a little awkward and very painful. It's like ripping off a Band-Aid, better to make it quick. It'll hurt less for all of us. With a long breath, he turned away from his loaded truck and headed into the house.

"She'll not like that, but you're a man grown, fully able to make your own decisions." Doug followed him in, with only a weak hope that he could keep his wife from melting into a puddle of tears – at least until after Oz left.

Margaret Green stood, her shoulders hunched, facing the phone base. One of her small knobby hands twisted in the cord as she talked softly into the receiver. Doug could see the tension in her stance. Without thought, he put his hands on her shoulders to soothe the board stiff muscles. But instead of relaxing, she tightened up like a wound coil. Before he had a chance to ask her what was wrong she spoke softly into the receiver, "Sara, I don't understand, why did you do it?"

Sara! That explains it. I wonder what she wants now. A sneer twisted his lips.

Even though Margaret had spoken barely above a whisper, Oz also heard the name she had mentioned. Doug turned at the hissed breath that snaked from between his grandson's clenched teeth. Oz's eyes weren't lost now; they were sharp twin-edge daggers of anger and heartache. His voice just as lethal as his gaze, Oz spat, "Sara! What does she want?"

Margaret jerked, nearly slamming the phone back on the cradle. Doug was surprised, shocked beyond words. He'd never seen his wife hang up on anyone without at least one good-bye. If he'd done anything that rude, she would have lectured him up one side and down the other.

Pushing passed her gaping husband, Margaret clutched Oz's hand. Her eyes were brittle drops of honey brown but they remained dry as she spoke. "Ozzie, she wants to talk. She wants to explain why she didn't show up. She told me that she couldn't bare it if you went off and she never got the chance to explain." Her heart cracked. After her Catherine died, she had raised Oz as her own, giving him all the love she had. He was all that was left of her only child, and now it hurt her more to see his pain than his leaving did.

"What's there to explain, Maw? She already told me why! What's the point of hashing it out again?" Oz wasn't sure if he could see Sara again. He was afraid he'd break like one of the tiny glass swans Margaret had a weakness for. He felt just as fragile as one of those birds. And if he wasn't careful, his pieces would be even harder to put back together.

Margaret said nothing. She dragged Oz against her and squeezed tight. She knew there was nothing she could say to take away the heartache. With her face pressed against his shoulder, she cried the tears that she knew Oz wouldn't allow himself to shed.

After a few minutes, he pulled her to arms' length. Though it felt like an ill-fitting mask, he let his most potent smile play on his lips. "Maw, it's time I hit the road." With a quick peck on the cheek he continued, "I'll call as soon as I get settled. Love ya." He turned toward his grandfather before Margaret had a chance to catch him with her tears again.

Wrapping Oz in a tight hug, Doug said, "Knock 'em dead, boy-o." He patted his grandson's back and added, "I couldn't be prouder."

"Thanks, Paw, for everything." His words were heavy with emotion.

Snorting to cover the hitch in his voice, Doug said, "Well, you best be off." He left his arm laid across Oz's shoulders as they walked out to the waiting truck.

Inside the cab, Oz looked back at his family. They stood, arms wrapped around each other, on the small slab of concrete porch. Each raised a hand and waved. He may not have everything he wanted in life, part of him may be broken and lost, but he knew that he had more than enough to pick up the pieces, more than enough to survive.

With a wave of his own, he started the truck down the long gravel drive. Around the first bend, his grandparents disappeared behind the old barn. Memories of the times he had spent with Sara in the hayloft stabbed to the center of his heart. As he snapped his gaze back to the road, a gasp froze in his lungs. A blue sedan crowded the lane in front of him.

The truck's brakes squealed and gravel crunched under the half bald tires. His heart reared in his chest, kicking his pulse into a hard gallop. The only thing he could see was the car's hood growing larger and larger before his eyes until he thought he could count every chip in the faded blue paint. His truck stopped inches from the front of the sedan, but his racing heart barreled on. The pounding fear sparked instant anger, and it flowed in quick, white-hot spurts through his veins.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He hopped out of the cab clearing half the distance between him and the sedan in one leap. "You tryin' to get yourself kill..." The words dried up on his tongue as the driver climbed out of the sedan.

Sara Wilson had seen anger and its older brother, rage, more times than she could count. Her family was known for their quick, hot tempers, so she could easily spot fired emotion when she saw it, and she was looking at it burning brightly in Oz's eyes. She'd told herself to expect the anger, to even expect the swirl that was love and heartache swimming in those sharp green pools. But she wasn't ready, not nearly steady enough for the stab of pain, of the soul deep guilt that she felt at the sight of him.

They stood, staring at each other for a long moment before she could find her voice. "Oz, I want to explain why..."

Oz snapped, cutting her words short. "What's there to explain? You told me that you wouldn't marry me, that you couldn't! That's all I needed to know!" He had to turn away. He couldn't bare the pained look in her dark brown eyes. His heart tightened as if iron bands were wrapped around it. In stuttered jerks, he was behind his truck door, one leg sliding into the cab.

"Oz, please listen! You don't understand, you don't know why I can't marry you!"

It was anger and it was love that made him pause, that drew his eyes back to hers. They were brittle beads and Oz knew that if he gave her time to cry he would shatter, blast into pieces that no one would be able to put back together again.

"Then why? Why leave me standing at the altar?" he demanded, his voice was shaking, on the verge of tears.

"I'm afraid, all right? I'm scared to death!" Her voice wasn't any steadier than his.

"Why? What's there to be scared of?" He spat the words at her like bullets.

"You, me, everything! Marriage is major. I don't know if I can handle it. I'm terrified by the thought of it!" She threw her hands up and let them drop back down in hopeless frustration.

"So you don't love me enough to try. That's all I need to know." His words slipped out soft and gentle, and felt as if he had ripped his heart out. He couldn't bare it any longer. Dropping his eyes, he started to climb the rest of the way into his truck.

"Oz!"

He glanced back at her, his eyes hard and fragile with unshed tears. His voice cracked like an empty eggshell as he spoke. "You know, Sara, marriage scares me too, but I loved you enough to face it." He slid into the seat with a slam of the door. Jerking the truck off the drive he maneuvered it around Sara's borrowed sedan. He didn't look at her, he couldn't. His vision was already blurred; hot tears shimmered in his eyes threatening to fall.

With an angry twist, he turned the stereo up to cover his stuttered breathing, and the sound of his heart shattering in his chest.

CHAPTER TWO

DREAMS

A hush, the silence of a gathered mass to witness a solemn occasion filled the small chapel. It was heavier than normal, held as though baited breath waiting for the other shoe to drop. No one shuffled nervous feet, there were no muffled coughs, murmured whispers – there wasn't even the indignant wail of a child.

Osmond Green might have felt better if there had been some sound, any noise whatsoever coming from the congregation. In the back of his mind, he prayed for the burst of a shouted NO, NO, NO! But none of the toddlers obliged, almost as if they knew this was a serious time and there should be a respectful silence while they waited for the ceremony to begin.

Oz looked to the first pew. His grandparents sat beside each other. He locked eyes with is grandmother. She smiled and gave him a small wave. For a second the anxiety he felt faded and a sense of happiness filled his chest. But then he glanced left of his grandparents at the woman who sat next to them. Oz had only seen her in pictures, but he would have recognized his mother anywhere. With a shake of her head, she tossed her dark blonde tresses out of her face. Light brown eyes shining, she smiled at him. The warmth of it was almost strong enough to erase the sense of dread he felt at seeing his dead mother sitting there.

A hand fell on his shoulder. Icy cold tendrils seeped into his skin. That chill sent tremors of fear down his spine. Oz turned, slowly and hesitantly. Standing behind him was a man he'd never seen yet he knew his face. He knew it better than anyone's. It was a face he could see any time that he wanted by simply looking in a mirror. Trevor Howard, Oz's father, stared back at him and insanity burned brightly in his eyes, in eyes that he'd passed on to his son.

Trevor's lips cracked and split into a feral grin. His gaze darted around the room before it settled on Oz, searing with its intensity. A lump rose in Oz's throat and fear beat in slow, thick throbs through his veins.

Oz opened his mouth to speak, to ask what was going on when the music started. At first, he didn't recognize the heavy, slow rhythm pumped into the air. Like a bucket of ice thrown in his face, he was hit with the cold realization of what the tune was. "The Wedding March" was never a song he had felt fear for, but the way it was being played prickled his skin. It was twisted, a mournful sound as if the pianist had merged it with a funeral dirge.

Oz turned away from his father and faced the woman dressed from head to toe in blue-white lace. Through her thin veil, Oz could see Sara's black-brown eyes glistening with happy tears. The adorable dimple in her left cheek danced at one end of her smile. Oz didn't understand his growing fear, the tightening fist of dread that sat heavily on his stomach.

With each step Sara took, the feeling just piled higher and higher. When she was only a few feet away, Trevor spoke drawing Oz's attention away from the bride to be, "You still have work to do, son."

Something shifted in the air with his father's words. The fear and dread he'd been feeling swelled to near bursting. Though he didn't want to look, didn't want to see what had changed, Oz's eyes were pulled back to Sara. A scream lodged in his throat. Her face was a skeletal mask patched with dry leather skin, her beauty replaced with decay. The blue-white gown was covered in dust and clinging strings of cobwebs. It draped like a bed sheet over Sara' wasted frame.

Trevor spun Oz around and brought his now sagging, rotten bone face an inch from Oz's nose. The stench of decay choked him of breath. "There's still time, you can prevent this!" Trevor laughed, the smell of rot, mildew and old leaves gagging Oz further.

The echoing bark of Trevor's laughter filled Oz's head as the room began to spin. Corpses everywhere! They circled him, engulfing him in their twisted and decaying faces. "You still have work to do, boy!" crowed his father.

***

Oz shot up in bed, the scream that had been frozen in his lungs during the dream blasting out into the darkness. Panic knifed through his nerves tearing them into tattered shreds. His sheets clung to the sweat drenching his back.

Unable to handle the black void of his room any longer, he snapped on his bedside lamp. A small notebook and pencil stub lay on the stand beside the lamp pedestal. As if they were talismans against evil, he snatched them up, clutching them to his heaving chest.

During his last check-up his doctor told him to write down his dreams any time they woke him in the middle of the night. His breaths rushed out in fast pants as his hand flew across the page. Instead of showing him that there was nothing to fear from his nightmares, the closer he came to the end the harder his heart hammered in his chest.

With the last word scribbled down, he dropped his hands to his sides, let the notebook fall to the bed. He didn't feel relieved or soothed in any way. But the simple act of committing it to paper, of digging deep inside and hauling himself out, gave his fear boundaries. And that freed him enough to let him breathe, a little.

After several seconds, he reached for the notebook. A tremor shook through his hand. He willed it steady and picked up the pad. His eyes skimmed over the page but he had no need to read a single word. He knew the nightmare from beginning to end. In one form or another, it had been haunting him off and on for the last three years.

At first, the dream seemed harmless, bothering him one, maybe two, nights a month. But then it became once a week, twice a week, and now almost every other night. The possibility that he was losing his mind terrified him. It had been a fear of his all his life.

His father had been only a few years younger than Oz was now when he'd been committed. Growing up, Oz knew that out of respect for him and his grandparents the people of his old hometown didn't speak of it. But the sideways glances, looks of pity, and the occasional dropped voices when Oz was around had only frightened him more. He preferred the few times when a mean kid tried to bully him about his loony bin father, the straight forward assault was much easier to take than the adults avoidance.

As with anything that scared him, Oz faced it head on doing everything in his power to make sure that he stayed normal and sane.

These dreams frightened him more than anything, and what scared him the most about them was he didn't know how to face them down. There was no bully to shut up, no pitying look to glower away, just his own mind.

How do you beat something that's only in your head? He thought as he closed his eyes and stared at the back of his eyelids until his alarm went off.

***

Oz felt raw and worn out by the time he had finished his breakfast of slightly runny eggs and a tall glass of orange juice. He hadn't felt like eating but he never went to work without something in his stomach. And the weakness he was feeling told him he'd need more than a glass of OJ and a dry piece of toast, which was his usual breakfast of choice.

Traffic was light, only a few cars were out. It took him less than an hour to weed his way through it. He arrived at the construction site at fifteen till seven.

The sun was already smiling through the gray steel frame of the growing office building. Oz was pleased to see the progress; they were right on schedule. Toting the blueprints, he climbed out of his Dodge Ram and spotted his foreman, Nick Matthews, standing beside another man. The only thing Oz could see of the other man was his dark brown hair.

Something about the way the stranger stood struck a chord with Oz. He felt he should know the man, he was positive he should recognize him. Curiosity had him calling out, "Hey, Nick! What's up?"

Both men turned. The air froze in Oz's lungs and a scream lodged in his throat. Trevor Howard stood beside Nick, an odd half grin on his lips. Oz felt the blood drain from his face. Sweat beaded on his forehead and slicked down his back.

A fist of nausea hit his stomach, churning his meager breakfast. The blood rushed through his ears so loud that it took several seconds for him to hear Nick. "Oz, you all right, man? You're as pale as a sheet!"

He couldn't reply, he couldn't even move. His eyes were locked on his father. Oz watched Trevor begin to mouth words. He didn't have to read his father's lips; he could hear the silent words echoing in his head. "You still have work to do, boy-o!"

***

Nicholas Matthews had never seen his boss look so pale and weak. A knife of panic stabbed into his chest when Oz began to sway. He rushed over just in time to catch Oz before he hit the ground.

"Whoa, big guy, why doncha just come into the office and get off your feet for a second." Nick's voice rushed out so fast each word nearly tumbled over the one before it.

Oz looked up at his foreman and saw the shock and worry stamped on his face. Embarrassed, he pushed himself up and willed his jellied knees solid. "I'm all right, Nick, I'm fine!" He risked a quick glance back toward where his father had stood. Nothing! The spot was empty. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks.

"Boy, you gave me a fright, man. What happened?" Nick asked picking up the case with the blueprints Oz had dropped.

"Ah, just, um a dizzy spell."

"Really?" He cocked his head to the side. "For a second there you looked like you'd seen a ghost or something! You went pale as milk, thought you were gonna pass out."

An uneasy laugh bubbled out. "No, I'm fine, just, just a little dizzy is all." With another, weaker, laugh, he added, "Seen a ghost, that's a good one, Nick. Let's get started, I don't want a touch of vertigo to cut into our work."

***

With Nick and the rest of the crew around, Oz could believe that lack of sleep and continuous nightmares were the cause for his earlier episode, but by himself in his apartment, he knew that they weren't. And that only left him with two options, both of which scared the hell out of him.

I'm either crazy or my dead father is trying to tell me something. He shuddered at the thought. Since his father couldn't possibly be trying to contact him from beyond the grave, Oz decided that the next step to insure that his sanity stayed intact would be a double shot of whiskey and a dose of over the counter sleep aid. That should keep the dreams at bay. And hopefully prove to him that he wasn't crazy – just tired.

***

Dum, Dum, da Dum. A cold sweat slicked over Oz's body. The song played much slower, less like a tune of happy beginnings and more like one of sad endings. Sara smiled at him from behind her veil, her dimple a mockery of beauty in her death mask face.

This time Trevor didn't turn him, instead he held Oz where he stood forcing him to look at the staggering corpse bride. "You have a lot of work to do, boy! You're runnin' out of time!"

Oz couldn't find his voice. Fear locked the words in his chest. He cast about for help, his eyes jumping from skeletal face to skeletal face. His heart beat against his ribs as if desperate to escape the building nightmare.

Oz's eyes fell on his grandmother's sweet face, her whole and healthily shining face. Panic knifed through his body. He knew what it meant; he understood why she was the only living person there.

Trevor spoke, erasing even the smallest hope that Oz was wrong. "If you hurry, you might have a chance for one last good-bye!" Trevor's hyena laugh cracked in Oz's ears as he watched the only mother he'd ever known crumble to ash and dust. A wind of death blew through the small chapel carrying her substance away from Oz.

Trevor grabbed him before he could collapse to the floor. Dragged up until he was nose to rotting nose with his father, Oz looked into the empty eye sockets to the back of Trevor's yellowed skull. With a clack and rattle like bones in a witch doctor's cup Trevor worked his jaws to shout, "You better get started, boy-o, you have a lot of work ahead of you!"

CHAPTER THREE

DEATH

Oz woke to the shrill ringing of his cellphone. Tattered images of his nightmare swirled around him. Corpses danced at the fringes of his vision and his father's words echoed faintly in his ears. It seemed like it took hours for him to fight his way through them to answer the phone.

"H, hello," his voice cracked.

"Oz?" Tears flood the word.

Oz shot further out of bed, fear clutching his throat. "Paw? Paw what's wrong? What happened to Maw?" The lingering terror from his dream filled him with a clear understanding, his grandmother was dying. A cold fist squeezed his heart in his chest.

"Oz," Douglas Green snorted back some of his tears and continued, "Oz, there's been an accident. Maw's not doin' good, she's in the ICU. They don't think she'll last m, much longer." He couldn't hold it back any more as grief swamped him. His best friend, the only woman he'd ever loved, and his wife for forty-eight years was lying there with monitors, wires, and tubes strapped to her mangled frame. Again, he tried to suck it up for is grandson.

He needs me to be there for him, to be strong and solid, Doug thought.

"Paw, what hospital?" Oz asked, desperation thick in his voice.

"St. Mary's," He croaked.

"I'll be there as soon as I can." Oz dropped his cell not caring that it tumbled off the nightstand. He moved like a dervish, a human tornado dragging and hurling clothes around the room. In less than five minutes, he was dressed and dashing out to his truck.

Dread burned through his body as he forced every ounce of speed out of his Dodge. He prayed that everything would be all right, that his grandmother would pull through and be her spirited self again. But with each mile that flew by, fear ate away at his hope until there was only the tiniest sliver left.

***

Five hours later, Oz pulled up in front of St. Mary's Mercy, the sun a fat red ball just cresting the east peak of the hospital. It was the biggest in the county and the closest to his old hometown.

Fear and worry pumped through his veins. Thoughts that he would never see his grandmother again stabbed panic straight into his heart. As he made a mad dash into the hospital, a fingernail of guilt scratched at him from under the layer of churning emotion. He hadn't been out to see his grandparents since he left for college. It didn't matter that he called them once a week, or that they'd come up and stayed with him a couple times a year. He hadn't made the effort to visit them, to see them for more than one holiday a year.

Now I may never see her again! A cold seed of regret and self-loathing sprouted in his gut. He doubled his pace as if by getting to her faster would make everything all right. Speeding past the nurse's station, he caught the attention of one of the women on duty. She called out, "Sir, may I help you?"

Panting and frantic with worry Oz blurted a jumble of demands. "Grandma! Which room? How bad? Where?"

"Sir, calm down. Take a deep breath and then tell me what your grandmother's name is." She stepped out from behind the desk and stroked his shoulder.

Oz took a breath but barely waited for his lungs to fill before he asked, "Margaret Green, what room?"

The nurse looked back at one of her co-workers transferring the question with her eyes. After a quick check the second nurse said, "She's in room 110."

Before Oz could tear off again, the first nurse grabbed his arm. "The room is straight down this hall and to the right."

"Thank you," he said and ran off to follow her directions.

The door to his grandmother's room was open and Oz could see his grandfather standing at the foot of the bed. Doug looked so old. Oz stopped in his tracks and just stared. On any other day, he would have thought that his grandfather was just tired, but not then. He could see the exhaustion and lack of sleep in Doug's face, but it was more than that. Doug looked drawn, his body scarecrow thin instead of its usual leanness. His shoulders rounded with the weight of his sadness.

Oz's seed of regret and guilt took full root and began to bud. I have to be strong; Paw needs me to be strong. He squared his shoulders and took several steadying breaths before he walked the rest of the way to the room.

Doug glanced up. Through his veil of tears he could see the stiff expression on Oz's face. He knew what his grandson was trying to do, but he wasn't going to let him take the whole burden by himself. "Oz, you must've broken every traffic law in the book to get here so fast." He wrapped his arms around Oz crushing him to his chest. Speaking into his boy's ear he continued, "I'm glad you could be here, she would want you here."

"I know, Paw," His breath hitched in his lungs, he pulled back to keep from giving into his tears. With a loud snort he asked, "What happened, you said there'd been an accident?"

Doug turned back toward the hospital bed, back to the damaged shell that had once been the love of his life. He couldn't feel her in there anymore and that forced a lump to rise in his throat. Swallowing as much of his heartache as he could he answered his grandson's question. "She'd been staying out most nights at old Mrs. Tutters' place to help her along ever since Mrs. Tutters came home from having hip surgery a little over a week ago. Maw called 'round nine, ten, o'clock last night, said she had a few things left to do before she, she h, headed home." He squeezed his eyes shut trying to fight back the guilt he suddenly felt. He couldn't remember if he'd told her that he loved her, his good-bye on the phone had been casual and half-hearted. How was I supposed to know? Tears escaped to trickle down his cheeks.

"It's all right, Paw." Oz wrapped his arms around his grandfather again. In that moment, both men gave in and let the tears fall, and for the first time that day the bands around Oz's heart loosened.

***

"Paw, why don't you get some sleep? I can sit with Maw for a while," Oz asked watching his grandfather yawn for the fourth time.

"Don't think I can sleep, but I could use some fresh air. I'm gonna take a short walk, I won't be long." Doug patted Oz's shoulder as he walked out.

After the door closed, Oz was alone with the soft sound of the telemetry machine. For several seconds he stood beside his grandmother listening to the irregular beeps of the heart-monitor. He didn't need the complex machine's records and read-outs to know that Margaret's pulse wasn't getting stronger. The only mother he ever knew lay dying before him, her body torn and broken and all he could do was watch helplessly.

How could this have happened? The thought leapt into his mind and at any other time he would have laughed at such a ridiculous clichéd question, but not then. No, he embraced it and with it, built a hissing bubble of anger.

For a few minutes the anger felt good, it felt real good. It felt right and just until he began to look for someone to throw it at, someone to blame. He thought about blaming God, then himself, Mrs. Tutters, and for a terrible second he blamed his grandfather. But every time he tried to push it off on someone, he could hear Doug's voice in his head.

"The rescue crew said she lost control and went off the road at Crowley's Bend. They said they had to cut her out of the car. I got there when the paramedics pulled her out." In the movie theater of his mind, Oz could see his grandfather stop and wipe at his tears. A chill tingled up Oz's spine as his memory ran on. There was a haunted tone to Doug's words. "There was so much blood, it was everywhere. The rescue crew was coated in it, in my Maggie's blood! I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe there could be that much blood inside one person, I was numb, I couldn't think. I just stood at the side of the road trembling, the only thing going through my head was that I should have done something, I should've been with here then she wouldn't..." He broke down; crumpled against Oz's chest and poured out.

"Paw, there was nothing you could've done. You can't think that way, you hear me, you just can't!" Oz shook his head; the memory was too painful and too recent.

Looking down at his grandmother, he couldn't understand why he'd been angry. The only person he could blame was the one person in his heart that he could never lay it on. Suddenly his legs felt weak and empty. He dropped down into a chair beside the bed, tears burning on his cheeks.

With his head resting against the chair back, he closed his eyes. He didn't know how long he sat like that, but he knew he must've fallen asleep when a coughing moan startled him awake.

Margaret's eyes fluttered open. A light frantic confusion shimmered across them. Her left hand, the only part of her not strapped to some machine, twitched like a wounded bird at her side. Oz was out of the chair and gripping her hand in a blink. "Maw, it's all right... everything will be all right!" In the back of his mind, he could hear the heart-monitor beeping wildly. But nothing except the woman in front of him mattered at that moment. "Maw, your Ozzie's here, and Paw, I can get him if you want."

For several seconds her eyes continued to dart around the room then they locked onto Oz. Her hand tightened and she opened her mouth as if she were going to speak. Nothing but a rattling cough came out.

"It's all right, Maw. You don't have to say anything! Just rest!"

Her grip tightened more, giving Oz's heart a boost of hope. She opened her mouth again and rasped. "Ozzie..."

"Yes, Maw, it's me."

"Ozzie," she coughed again. "Ozzie, you...m, must live. Don't..." A long chain of rattling bursts cut off her words. She wouldn't let her coughs stop her; every time Oz tried to quiet her she squeezed his hand harder. "Don't let, let them... get, get you." Her breath wheezed out. She gasped and panted, the hope that had bloomed in Oz's chest withered and died as a cold finger of fear inched up his back. After several seconds, Margaret struggled on. "Ozzie...you, you have w, work left to do. Do y, you hear me? Find you, your d, daddies' secret. You must stop them!" Her hand tightened around Oz's so hard that he could feel his bones grind together. He didn't notice the pain. He was too captured by the horrible look of fear in his grandmother's eyes.

The heart-monitor let out a shrill cry and Margaret collapsed back onto the bed. Oz stared at her dead face, still able to see the fear in her eyes, the fear she'd had for him.

CHAPTER FOUR

HOMECOMING

Oz glanced across at his grandfather slumped in the passenger seat. They'd decided, Oz had decided, that Dough should ride with him. And with one look, Oz knew that his grandfather was in no condition to drive, not that he was in much better shape himself.

A white haze had filled Oz's head the moment that his grandmother died. He'd kneeled there on the floor, holding her limp hand. He knew that people were moving around him, that they were speaking to him but he couldn't see or hear any of it. At some point, they pulled him away from Margaret. Time seemed to suddenly leap forward in unrelated bites.

One second he was alone standing outside the room and – blink – his grandfather was beside him screaming at the orderly holding him back' "Maggie, no, MAGGIE!"

Blink. Doug sank to his knees, his hands fisted against his brows. Sobs racked his prone body. "Oh Maggie, my Maggie..." he moaned as he rocked with his heartache.

Blink. Oz had his arms around Doug and they both shed silent tears on the other's shoulder. Doug trembled against him, exhaustion and loss dragging him down.

Blink. A doctor appeared in front of Oz. "Mr. Green, I think it would be best if you took your grandfather home to get some rest. Everything that needs to be taken care of today has been seen to."

Blink. Oz had his arm over Doug's shoulder leading him out to his truck. After they climbed in everything shifted back to normal speed. For a long time they sat in silence. It dragged on until it felt almost like another person riding in the cab with them. Half way to Doug's house, he finally spoke. His voice was a haunted whisper, but Oz could hear every word down to the last soul-wrenching syllable. "I wasn't there for her when she went. How could I have left her alone like that?"

Oz felt his already heavy heart sink further in his chest. Without hesitation, or doubt, he lied, "Paw, she was gone long before you went for your walk. She never regained consciousness. She just slipped from sleep into heaven." He went on with the one truth he'd been sure of all his life. "And I know she knew you loved her and that you were there for her even if you weren't in the room." He reached over and squeezed his grandfather's hand. "Please don't beat yourself up like this. She wouldn't have wanted you to."

Once more, their passenger of silence joined them. They sat with it for several miles before Doug spoke again. "Maybe you're right, but it's too hard, everything is so hard now."

"I know, Paw, I know." Oz squeezed Doug's hand again.

***

Oz woke with the heavy throb of a headache forming behind his left eye. He could almost hear the tiny imps gathering up their hammers to really start building his headache. For several seconds he sat in bed trying to figure out just where on earth he was. "My old room," he muttered as the day before surfaced in his mind.

After getting his grandfather home, he had climbed the stairs and crashed into oblivion on his old bed. Awake and no longer exhausted from the emotional roller coaster he'd been riding all day yesterday, he noticed that the room hadn't changed. Not one bit, it was exactly how he had left it almost ten years ago.

"Wow, Maw, you kept it like this as if you knew I'd be back." The thought made him smile, but the smile faded a few seconds later. He couldn't believe how much he already missed her. All his life he'd thought she would live forever, even after he grew up enough to understand the circle of life, he'd never really considered her death a possibility.

The throb behind his eye doubled, the imps moving onto pick axes, the pain became the headache it had been threatening to be since he woke. He could feel those imps pound away at the inside of his skull as if they were trying to knock his eye right out of its socket. With a grunt, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and was surprised that he was wearing nothing but his boxers. He couldn't remember taking the time to undress before he went off to limbo.

He shrugged, then padded over to where his jeans lay. They were in a twisted heap like he'd peeled them off and tossed them blindly behind him sometime during the night. I must've been really out of it last night; he shook his head as he slipped into them.

The house was quiet. The only sound was his bare feet on the steps. Paw must still be sleeping, Oz reasoned. He tried to make as little noise as he possibly could. Tiptoeing down the back hall toward the kitchen, memories of the times he'd snuck out as a teen flashed in his mind. The thoughts brought on a heavy hand of nostalgia and made him wonder how he could have stayed away so long.

"Sara, that's how," he muttered, opening the kitchen door. For a long time he couldn't handle the idea of seeing her again. He wasn't sure if he would ever be able to. In the back of his mind the thought that she might show up for his grandmother's funeral worried him. And he didn't know what worried him more, that he might run into her or the fact that part of him wanted to.

Doesn't matter. All that matters at this moment is gettin' a cup of coffee and a couple aspirin down to kill off this damn headache. He mentally pushed the issue away.

While the coffee was brewing, he rooted around the kitchen for the bottle of aspirin that he remembered his grandfather kept in there. He took two of the pills with a glass of water then gathered what he'd need to make breakfast for him and Doug when he woke up. There'll only be two of us. The thought jumped into his mind and twisted his heart. Every time his grandparents had visited him, he and Margaret had made breakfast together. Oz stopped and put his back against the wall. He needed a moment to gather himself; the flare of heartache was too strong. Pull it together man! He commanded, pushing away from the wall and heading toward the refrigerator.

"Boy, there's not much in here." He leaned against the open door and studied the meager supplies in the fridge. He grabbed the carton of eggs. "I guess eggs n' toast will havta do."

He put on a pot of water to boil figuring he'd make his grandfather's favorite, poached eggs. "That man would eat poached eggs for breakfast, lunch and dinner!" Oz could hear his grandmother's voice in his head. His heart felt as if it had been put in a vise, absently he rubbed his chest where the ache throbbed.

Since it was going to take a few minutes for the water to come to a boil, he decided he'd take a cup of coffee and enjoy it out on the front porch. He always liked watching the world wake and start about its business early in the morning. And he hoped that it would help him concentrate less on his grandmother.

As he stepped out of the kitchen, he spotted Doug sitting in his chair by the front window. He was staring blankly out at the yard. Oz could tell that Doug hadn't gotten much sleep.

"Paw, I didn't know you were up. Do you want a cup of coffee? I just made a fresh pot."

Doug turned, slow and stiff, almost like a machine. His eyes were miles away. Fear leapt into Oz's chest. Please God, no! I can't lose him too. He prayed as he asked, "Paw, are you all right?"

For a terrible second, an eternity long second, Doug just looked through Oz. Then he blinked, his eyes drifting back to focus like a ship floating on calm waters. "No thanks, maybe in a little while I'll have a cup. Right now I'd just like to sit and watch the day."

Oz let out a quiet breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Doug's voice wasn't back to full strength but it was better, a thousand times better. "Well, would you mind some company?" Oz asked as he walked into the living room.

"Yeah, I think I would like that."

Oz sank into one of the other chairs in front of the window. They sat in silence, both taking as much comfort from the waking day as they could. With a sip of his coffee Oz thought, it's small moments of peace like this that I've missed in the city. My business doesn't let me take much time to stop and smell the roses.

"My work!' Oz exclaimed. He hadn't thought about it in over twenty-four hours. "I've gotta make some calls, Paw. They don't know where I've been."

"Well, you better hurry up and call 'em before they send out the hounds."

Jumping up Oz said, "After I make these calls, I'll start on breakfast. We're having your favorite."

"Poached eggs! I haven't had that in a dog's age." He shook his finger at Oz. "Then you best hurry up or I'll come after you and you won't have to worry about your work." Doug chuckled.

Oz laughed as he left the room. It felt good to laugh, and it felt even better to see his grandfather laugh. The pain they both felt was still there but being able to smile again was almost like having Margaret back, almost. Oz had been so afraid that he'd never see his grandfather smile again.

***

"Sure Oz, we can handle things here for a while. You just take as long as you need, we understand," said Nick Matthews.

"Thanks, I appreciate you taking care of things for me. Hey, do you still have that set of keys I gave you to my place?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Can you do me a favor? I was in such a hurry when I left, I didn't pack a thing. Could you send me some of my clothes, my cell phone?"

"No problem, I'll have them express mailed to you."

"Thanks again. Well, talk to you later."

"See you man, take care."

Oz walked into the kitchen and found Doug setting the table. They nodded at each other then continued about their tasks. When Oz was almost finished with the eggs, Doug moaned, "C'mon boy, are you gonna take all day to make those eggs or what?"

Oz glanced over his shoulder at the wide grin spread across his grandfather's face. There was still a distance to Doug's eyes, but Oz could tell he was trying to be strong, trying to be strong for Margaret.

With a smile of his own, Oz replied, "Oh, like you have room to talk. How long does it take to make toast?"

"That's a different story altogether. Toasting bread is a delicate art. It has to be done with extra special care." His lips twitched further up.

"And you were always the bullshit king."

Taking a mock bow Doug laughed. "Why thank you. I was beginning to wonder when you would recognize my skill."

"Oh, I knew right off when you told me that you invented the light bulb."

"Yeah, and I would have been rich if ol' Edison hadn't beaten me to the punch."

"Well, what can you do, he came up with it long before either one of us was born. So I suggest we forget about Thomas Edison and eat this wonderful breakfast." Oz set the plates on the table, amazed at how much just spending time with his grandfather could lift his heart.

CHAPTER FIVE

MEMORIES

Halfway through breakfast Doug looked up, his eyes suddenly large beads of fragile brown. "There'll be a lot of people from town stoppin' in later today."

Oz knew that in a small community like this, the people always came together when one of them was in need. The Irish had a term for it, comhair. But it was more than just helping each other, it was belonging. Another thing he'd missed in the city.

"I guess if we're gonna have company, we better head into town for some supplies," Oz said thinking about the empty fridge.

"This place needs a little straightening before they start dropping in on us, too. If you feel up to it, you can run to town while I clean."

"All right, I'll go hit the shower and then head off."

***

With his damp towel slung low around his hips, Oz rummaged through his old room, hoping that there was something clean he could wear. He found a pair of jeans with ripped knees in the bottom of his dresser and two T-shirts in the top drawer. The first T-shirt was a tattered Quiet Riot concert Tee. He had to laugh at how much his taste in music had changed since he was a teenager.

He opted to go with the second shirt, a plain white, cotton Tee. He slid into the faded jeans surprised that they fit perfectly after so many years. The T-shirt was a different story altogether. It pulled tight across his shoulders and chest. Tugging on it Oz muttered, "Guess it'll havta do, I'll need to pick up at least a couple outfits while I'm in town."

Dressed, he jogged downstairs to find Doug. As he reached the hall, a sudden stream of curses rolled out of the kitchen. Concern pumped into Oz's body. Rushing to the kitchen he called out, "Paw, are you all right?"

After he opened the door, Oz found Doug sucking on his thumb, a scowl of frustration stamped to his face. He pulled it out of his mouth and examined the seeping cut across the pad. While he ran it under the faucet he grumbled, "Yeah, I'm fine, just got careless with a knife. I guess I should have been paying more attention to what dish I was washing."

Oz let out a quiet breath, thankful that it was nothing serious. "Well, if you aren't going to need stitches then, I'm off to town."

"All right. Do you need any money?" Doug asked digging in his pocket.

Oz shook his head. "No, I've got it. I'll be back in a little while."

"Drive careful." Oz could see the glint of fear that was memory and worry dance in his grandfather's eyes.

"Will do. I'll be back soon." He felt bad leaving his grandfather by himself, but he had no idea what else he could do. He squeezed Doug's shoulder as he walked out.

Oz climbed into his truck hoping that the drive would take his mind off of things. He pulled onto the main road and realized he hadn't noticed the scenery the night before. Folds of pine and spruce – dotted here and there with maple and oak – lined both sides of the road. The noon sun was a gentle gold against the deep green of the foliage. On the left side of the road, the ground began to cascade up like steps reaching forty or fifty feet at their peak.

Oz had always loved the peaceful beauty of the country, but he could remember how much those towering trees seemed like bars of a cage, a cage that he'd been more than a little desperate to escape. He almost had to laugh at how much he'd wanted to come back ever since he had managed to bust free.

He cut off that chain of thought before it could stab him again with memories of Sara or his recent loss. The drive was supposed to take his mind off of things not assault him at every turn.

"Brigston 2 miles," Oz read the green and white highway sign. In a few minutes, he was going to see his old hometown for the first time in nearly ten years. I wonder how much everything's changed. Probably not much, he reasoned.

For a half mile, he managed to keep his memories at bay but then he spotted a broken fence gate a little ways back from the road. A few loose planks of wood marked where the old fence had once stood. That and the lopsided hanging gate were all that remained. There hadn't been much more than that the last time I'd seen it. Oz remembered, his mind jumping back to when he was just starting the winding road toward adulthood.

***

"C'mon Oz, you ain't afraid flying monkeys are gonna getcha, are ya?" Jake Collins goaded eager as any twelve-year-old to drag a friend into trouble along with him.

"I'm not the one with the hots for the wicked witch of the west," Oz spat, rushing through the browning underbrush after Jake. The June sun beat down on them with double fists of sweltering heat.

"The witch bitch? No way! Fuck that!" He shouted the cuss word as if to show that he had no fear to use it, though his parents would have grounded him for a week. Ignoring the niggle of worry, he jumped over a fallen rail from an overgrown fence and said, "Her face looks like week old road kill!"

"With how ugly your mug is, I thought she'd be perfect for you," Oz laughed.

"Eat shit!"

"No thanks," Oz caught up with Jake and asked, "Where are we goin'?"

"You'll see." He started down an ancient rock path. Several of the stones were chipped or cracked. Many were tumbled to the side and a handful sprouted the smiling faces of wild flowers.

A breath of ice brushed across Oz's cheek when he stepped onto the path. It whistled in his ears almost like a whispered voice. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. A tingle of fear ran through his heart. Seeing that Jake was still heading down the path, Oz called out, "Did you feel that?"

"Feel what?" He looked back over his shoulder, one gold eyebrow arched.

"A cold breeze, it just blew by."

"You're losing it man. It's like a million degrees out here." Jake shook his head and turned back to the path.

Oz followed, but he couldn't shrug off the feeling that something wasn't right. Though the summer sun glared down from its noontime perch, the woods seemed to grow darker. Shadows became oil-black holes in the surrounding greenery.

Oz kept as close to Jake as he could without letting him know that he was getting scared. The stones of the path began to taper off until there was only one or two left in the dirt track where they had lain. Another icy breeze stroked its fingers across Oz's cheek. Its cry was stronger, sounding more like a whispered voice than before. The fear that it pumped into his chest made him desperate to know where Jake was taking him.

"Where are we going? I've never been this far into the woods."

"It's a surprise. You'll see soon enough." There was more than a hint of excitement in his voice.

"I want to know now, you fuck wad," Oz demanded, smacking Jake across the shoulder.

"Ow! OK, okay, whine-ass. You heard of the old Bowman place?"

"Yeah, that's the place where like a hundred years ago that guy went crazy and killed off his whole family, right?" Oz replied. A cold chill ran down his spine like the icy finger of death warning him to go home right that second.

"Yep, that's it. He killed off his twin daughters with a hatchet. One solid whack to each girl's face before he chopped them to pieces. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!" He sliced his hand up and down imitating the brutal murder. In the same breath he continued, "He tied his oldest son up and hung him from the balcony."

He spun around on the path. His voice rose with the excitement of the gruesome tale as he went on. "Can you fucking believe that, hanging a foot off the ground and all you can do is choke to death? And old crazy Mr. Bowman just kept going. He drowned his youngest son in the bathtub. Then he dragged his wife to where each of the kids' dead bodies was before he blew her head off." A morbid grin spread across his face. "You know what he did then?"

Oz felt sick. He'd heard most of the story before, and like all the other kids in his class, he had found it fascinating. Now he would do almost anything not to hear what else happened that long ago night. He tried to tell Jake to stop, to just shut the hell up, but he couldn't find his voice.

Taking Oz's silence as interest, Jake brought the horrid story to an end. "He called the cops and when they should up he lit himself on fire. They say he just kept laughing as he burned to a crisp!"

A slippery ball of nausea churned in Oz's stomach. He couldn't understand the sudden fist of fear that gripped his heart. It was just a story, he'd heard similar or worse before. Finding his voice, he asked, "We aren't going there, are we?"

"Shit, yeah! It's just a little farther; my older brother told me where it is." Jake turned and trotted down the path. When he noticed Oz wasn't following he called out, "C'mon Oz, you ain't a chicken shit, are ya? Afraid of an old house?"

Oz was. He suddenly realized that he was terrified of the house. That's just stupid, he told himself. Oz swallowed the oily lump in his throat and sprinted after Jake, determined that an old house wasn't going to scare him off.

***

The house might have been beautiful if it hadn't sat for years completely unattended. There were holes in the roof, the shingles were torn and blackened with mildew. A few shards of jagged glass were all that remained of the windows, glinting like crooked teeth in the summer sunlight. What shutters that hadn't fallen off or had been ripped off by strong winds, hung at sharp angles form their rusted hinges. One of the support beams for the balcony had toppled back against the front of the house leaving the right corner of the balcony slanted toward the ground.

Jake stood beside Oz, a brilliant smile glowing on his face. To him the old house looked like ancient ruins just waiting to be explored and their riches plundered. Oz saw it differently. The gray-white paint that barely clung to the wood was the color of death. The dark empty windows – hollowed out eyes, the broken, sagging porch – a gap toothed skeletal grin. With those images in his mind the churning ball in his stomach told him that the house was nothing more than a dead thing that craved the death of others.

Jake started forward, his eyes still large with excitement. Oz clutched his arm and asked, "What're you doing?"

Shrugging Oz's hand off, he said, "What d'ya think? I'm goin' in!"

"Don't!" Oz flicked his gaze away from Jake's eyes and glanced over at the house.

"Why not? Are you really scared of the house? It's just a fucking house, it can't hurt you!"

Oz opened his mouth to protest, but Jake rolled right over him. "If you're that scared you can stay here, but I'm goin' in." He turned and ran to the broken porch steps.

Oz was frozen with indecision. He knew he couldn't let his best friend go in by himself, yet his fear held him in place. Jake climbed and fought his way over to the door before Oz summoned the courage to move.

The first two steps were broken, the top boards split in two leaving a clear view of the ground beneath. Oz raised his foot to step on the remaining framework of the first stair more than sure that it was the only place strong enough to support him. The cold wind slipped by him again. It spun and twirled around his ears whistling with its soft voice. As he started to lower his foot he heard it clearly. Don't go!

Oz jerked around, his eyes darted left and right, but there was nobody there and nothing except trees and greenery all around him. "Who, who said that?"

Silence. There wasn't even the sound of birds chirping in their nests. Oz's skin prickled with gooseflesh, the hairs on his neck stiffened. His voice trembled as he asked again, "W, who's th, there?"

And again silence. Oz glanced over his shoulder. Jake was gone, had disappeared into the house. Oz turned back toward the porch. The frame of the first step creaked under his weight. He brought his other foot down on the second step's frame.

DON'T GO! The icy breeze spoke, its voice no longer a whisper. It sounded familiar, like someone Oz had heard before, soft and full of affection.

"Maw?" He realized that it was a lot like his grandmother's voice. "Maw is that you?" He asked again.

No answer. In the back of his mind, he knew that it hadn't been his grandmother. But it sounded almost exactly like her.

Indecision had slipped back into his mind freezing him half up the porch stairs. Fear locked his muscles and his mind boiled with wild thoughts. Am I losing my mind? How can there be a voice in the wind? Why does it sound like Maw? Hundreds more ran through his head.

Time slowed, each second dragged on for what felt like hours. It meant nothing to Oz. Time could have stopped all together for how much he moved. Sweat trickled down his back. I've gotta do something! He thought but he was still locked in place.

"AHH!" A scream echoed out of the house.

Instinctively drawn to the panicked cry, Oz leapt over the third step up onto the deck of the porch. In that blind moment he barely realized he'd moved – that his muscles now released him from his mental paralysis. "I'm coming Jake, hold on!" He shouted as he fought for balance on the loose boards.

Several of them had rotted and fallen away, but others looked solid until Oz stepped on them. The crack of wood snapping under foot had him springing forward. He began to bounce across the planks not caring if it would splinter under him. All that pumped through his mind was that Jake needed help, needed him.

The door was still partially open but the gap was a little small for Oz, but just the right size for Jake. Oz pushed the door. It was heavy and he could feel it scrape against the floor. The hinges groaned in protest at the slightest touch. Oz didn't care. The muscles in his arms and back rippled as he shoved the door all the way open. Scrape, shriek, crack! The wood cried out from the sudden move.

Oz dove into the thick pool of darkness beyond the entrance. He didn't notice that the icy breeze had followed him every step of the way. He was too focused to care. "Jake, where are you? Jake?" He shouted into the surrounding black.

Ozzie, this way! The breeze whispered.

A small part of Oz's mind paused at the voice, trying to tug his fear back to the forefront of his thoughts, but he couldn't leave his best friend. He was moving before his fear could even churn once.

In the hall, thin wisps of light slipped into the house, glided the dust motes swirling in the air. They made pinpricks in the heavy blanket of darkness. Oz kept running. "Which way?" He breathed.

This way! Ozzie, please be careful!

Oz followed the voice, now strangely comforted by its presence. He started up the stairs moving as fast as his legs could carry him.

Jump, Ozzie, Jump! The breeze cried. Oz reacted without a thought. As he soared over three steps, he heard wood crack and tumble to the floor ten feet below.

On the top landing, he panted in huge gulps of dust filled air. "Which way?" He wheezed.

This way! Oz took off again. His feet thumped dully across the old faded brown carpet. The last door on the landing was wide open. The oily blackness beyond was deeper than anything he had ever seen. Stopping at the threshold, he felt the breeze gather around him. It seemed to tighten, almost like it was giving him a hug. Ozzie, be careful! What felt like fingers of air brushed across his cheek, then the breeze whipped away back down the stairs.

A strange sense of loneliness filled his chest. He stood staring in the direction the breeze had gone. It had frightened him at first, but now he missed it. He shook his head and called out, "Jake, are you in there?"

Oz could hear sounds of movement, but nothing else. He stepped into the darkened room and felt the temperature drop twenty degrees. There was something in the room. Oz couldn't see it, but he knew that it was near. He took another step. A faint voice like the breeze that had led him through the house spoke. While he couldn't make out the words, it sounded hard, angry. It held none of the kindness that the other voice had.

"Jake, where are you?" He shouted into the void surrounding him.

As he walked further into the room, a wind hissed by, circling him. He shivered in its chill.

The voice was louder this time and so angry. My house! Get out! They make such lovely music! My house! Mine, mine, mine!

The wind twirled around Oz one more time then, spun off to one of the far corners of the room. Oz swallowed the burning lump in his throat and continued to enter. The wind whistled against the walls, hissing out with each step Oz took. Halfway into the room, his foot bumped into something soft and large. "Jake!"

Before he had a chance to check on his friend, the wind slapped him full in the chest. It felt like a frozen fist slammed into him. The blow knocked him back two steps almost pushing him off his feet. Mine! Mine! Mine! Get out! My house! It whirled around Oz for several seconds screeching with its insanity. Want to hear his beautiful music! Like the first boy, he sang so wonderfully! But you hurt! Never hurt before! Why! How can boy hurt! Get out! Boy not boy! How!

Oz dropped to his knees and tried to wake Jake. No! Boy not boy can't take! Mine! Mine! Mine! Want to hear beautiful music! Can't take my music! The wind struck Oz again. It wasn't as strong as the first time. He ignored it and dragged Jake up into a sitting position.

NO! MY MUSIC! The wind echoed then blasted Oz. It knocked him flat. He was so numb with cold and fear that he barely heard the wail of pain that the wind cried out.

It took almost all his courage to pull himself back up. The wind was circling the far side of the room muttering its insanity. Oz grabbed Jake and lifted him off the floor. He was surprised that he didn't collapse from the weight. He managed to take two steps toward the door before the wind attacked a third time.

It howled past him. He had to fight with all he had to keep from hitting the floor face first. Dust and bits of debris swirled up into the wind, whipping around in front of the door to bar the path. Oz's arms were aching, a slow fire spreading through the muscles. He knew that he had to get out of there soon, like right now! Summoning up all his strength, Oz bunched his legs to jump. He sprang forward, a scream bursting from his throat.

For several seconds the wind held him, the debris hitting him in the face and arms. Then suddenly the icy breath was gone and Oz was swaying back and forth on the other side of the door. He glanced over his shoulder, the wind raged behind him. It was fighting against something. A strange glow sparked in the middle of the struggle. The light flashed so bright Oz was blinded for a couple seconds. When he looked again the wind was gone, no more debris swirled in the doorway.

Ozzie hurry! The voice that had led him to Jake whispered in his ear. Oz's mind was too numb to think. He followed the voice. The trip was a blur. A hazy fog covered his thoughts.

The next thing he knew, he was laying Jake down in the glorious summer sunlight. He looked up to where the breeze was circling. "Thank you," he mumbled.

The air shimmered like water. Smokey shadows danced along the glimmering waves. For a second, an aching heartbeat, a face formed among the swaying gray wisps. Oz would have sworn the face looked like the picture that Maw kept on the mantle of his mother.

"Mom?" He breathed.

My sweet Ozzie, the breeze wrapped around him, hugging him as best it could. I love you, boy-o, it whispered, then vanished like it had never been.

CHAPTER SIX

KATY COLLINS

Oz pulled his truck to the side of the road. He'd nearly forgotten about that day, all but blocked it from his thoughts. It had been too crazy to believe when it had happened. And reliving it now made him even more worried that he was losing his mind.

He leaned his head back against the seat. His eyes squeezed as tightly closed as he could get them. He tried to calm himself. "C'mon, pull it together man!" He ordered. "Childhood is full of strange memories. You know it wasn't real, so suck it up and go do your shoppin'." Despite his words, his voice lacked conviction. He tried again. "Paw's gonna need you when the company starts dropping by."

With a deep breath, he maneuvered the truck back onto the road. By the time he reached town, he'd managed to push the memories into the farthest chamber of his mind.

On Shoppe Street, Oz had to smile. "It's almost exactly the same." Wilson's, the grocery store, still stood at the corner of Oak Drive and Shoppe Street. I wonder if Sara's father is still running the show. The thought brought back more than a dozen scenes from his past. Each featured Sara shining bright like a star. Oz ground his teeth and forced his mind back to where it belonged, I'm not going to think about her!

Glancing up at the store again, Oz saw a young man in his late teens step out of Wilson's and start spritzing the windows. A smile returned to his lips winder than before. It was much easier on him to recall the hours he'd spent in the teen's shoes. "And ol' man Wilson rode my ass any time I missed a spot." In a serendipitous moment, Oz spotted a gray haired Mr. Wilson amble out of the grocery as he stopped at the intersection of Oak Drive and Shoppe. His large belly hung further over his belt than Oz remembered. Driving on, he laughed while Mr. Wilson shook his finger and oversized gut at the young window washer.

The laugh died on his lips as his mind flashed back to the first time he'd picked Sara up for a date. Oz could hear Mr. Wilson's voice drifting through the years. "Boy, you best have her back and safely tucked in her bed by eleven o'clock or I'll skin ya alive!" Coming from a man his size and temperament, Oz had no trouble believing him. But at the time, instead of worrying about the threat to his life, he was focused on the beauty entering the room. The girl of his dreams made flesh and blood. Oz shook his head to clear away the images. He'd tried to keep the thoughts of Sara and her father out of his mind. With them tumbling through him now, he changed his plans and decided he'd go by the grocery last. He pulled into Paul's Apparel across the street from Wilson's.

"I'll just pick up a couple outfits first. That way when I buy the groceries I can take them straight back to Paw's," He tried to convince himself and failed miserably. He knew that he just didn't want to deal with anyone from that family just yet.

***

"Are you passing through or spending a few days in our little town?" Paul Collins Jr.'s voice floated over Oz's shoulder. Without pause he bragged, "This is the best time of year to visit this little corner of the world."

Oz had no trouble recognizing Paul's smooth baritone. He turned away from the rack of shirts and gave the balding proprietor his biggest grin.

Paul's watery blue eyes widened with surprise. His lips curved into a toothy grin of his own as he cried, "Osmond Green! Boy, the city life seems to have done you some good! Just look at you, you look great!" He wrapped Oz in a fierce bear hug.

"Well, I can say mostly the same for you, except you decided to be like your father and go gracefully bald." He rubbed his hand roughly over what remained of Paul's blonde locks.

Still smiling, he ran one of his hands through his hair himself. "I guess I shouldn't have teased my old man so much about it." Patting Oz's shoulder he asked, "When did you get back?"

The joy faded from Oz's eyes. The smile felt brittle and fake on his face, but he held it in place. "Early yesterday morning."

It didn't take Paul any time to notice the change or to feel his own stab of grief for Oz's loss. "I'm sorry to hear about Maggie. She was a fine woman."

"She was one of the greatest," Oz said, pleased that Paul wouldn't dwell on it. It was too fresh and raw. Just the thought brought pain to his heart.

After a couple seconds of awkward silence, Paul did what he did best, filled the void. "So, what brings you to my humble shop?"

Oz glanced down at his wardrobe. With a laugh in his voice he said, "I needed some clothes that weren't nearly a decade out of style."

His usual toothy grin covering his face, Paul mocked, "And I thought you were trying to turn the teenage bum look into a new fad for adults everywhere."

"Yeah, you know me, always a trend-setter."

Paul tucked his thumbs into his front pockets and said, "Well, you take a look around, if you need any help just holler."

"Will do," Oz nodded.

It didn't take him long to find a few things. He chose a couple shirts, a pair of blue jeans, and a pair of khakis. He figured two days' worth of clothes would cover him until his stuff arrived. As he walked up to the checkout counter, a little blonde girl skipped into the store.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite niece!" Paul leaned over the counter toward the child.

"Uncle Paul, I'm your only niece!" The girl giggled, her hazel eyes twinkling with cheer.

"That doesn't change a thing. So what brings my little Katydid by?"

"Momma wants ta know if you and Aunt Rache are still comin' ta dinner?"

Paul pushed her small nose like it was a button. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Smiling down at the girl, Oz jerked his thumb at Paul and asked, "So, this nut is your uncle?"

She bobbed her head up and down with three quick pumps. "I'm not sapose ta talk to strangers, momma says so."

Paul leaned further over the counter. "Oh, how rude of me! Osmond Green meet Ms. Katy Collins."

Oz held out his hand and when Katy took it, he gave her a firm shake. It was strange, her hand was so tiny in his but it seemed to fit perfectly. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice ta meet you, too." She turned back to her uncle. "Momma told me ta hurry back, we're gonna get groceries."

"Well, you best be off then."

"Bye!" She ran out, her short little legs speeding her back to her mom in a blur of red coveralls and blonde hair.

As he paid for his items, Oz said, "Cute kid." Jake had a daughter, I never knew! A stab of grief and regret pained his heart. He hadn't made the time to come back for Jake's funeral. It had been sudden and unexpected. Oz had just started getting his life together as an architect and was swamped with his new business. But those are just excuses and you know it! He thought. It was Sara. It had always been her. He let his feelings for her keep him away, let him drift away from his friends and loved ones.

"Yeah, she's great," Paul said snapping Oz out of his thoughts.

Oz quickly paid for his items. The way his guilt was nagging at him he felt uncomfortable talking to Jake's older brother. "Well, I've got a lot to do still, so I'll be seeing you," he said heading for the door.

"Hey, we should get together sometime while you're in town. Rachel would love to see you."

"Sure, just call me over at Paw's and let me know when it's good for you." He inched closer to the exit, eager to escape.

"All righty, you take it easy now." Paul gave him a small nod.

"You too," Oz walked out into the glorious late-spring sunshine. He took several deep breaths to clear his head. It seemed like nothing he did that day could keep his mind off of Sara or death, and he didn't know which of the two bothered him more.

Climbing into his truck, he looked up at Wilson's. "Well, I guess I have to face one more reminder before I head back. Let's make it quick."

***

The automatic door opened in one slow move, the motor whining with age. The interior had been remodeled since the last time Oz had been in the store. There were three more check stands, making it a grand total of six, and a wall of specials and sale items had been built up to line the walkway to the right of the registers. Oz followed it, his pace double normal to insure that he spent as little time in the store as possible.

His cart had already gathered several items before he reached the end of the walkway. He rounded the corner and started down the first aisle. The little blonde girl, Katy Collins, appeared at the far end of the lane. When she spotted him, she waved and cheered, "Hi mister Oz!"

Oz stopped a few feet in front of her and squatted down to her level. "Hey Katy, how's it going?" He loved children. In the back of his mind, he always thought when things slowed down he would like to have a family of his own – someday.

"Momma said I could pick my cereal." She smiled. Combined with her blonde locks and hazel eyes the dimple that popped out on her left cheek made her look more angelic than a cherub.

"So what kind are you going to get?"

"Lucky Charms," She bobbed her head.

"I like those too." He grinned at her simple joy.

Smile going up another twenty watts, Katy said, "You do? I like all the shapes and the mash mallows. And the little guy is funny!"

"Katydid, where are you?" A familiar woman's voice called.

"I'm here, Momma!" She turned to look back the way she'd come. "I was talkin' to the man from Uncle Paul's store. He says he likes Lucky Charms too!"

Oz rose up, a mixture of trepidation and eagerness filled him at the prospect of meeting Katy's mom and Jake's widow. He froze when his eyes locked with the woman's.

Sara!

CHAPTER SEVEN

SARA COLLINS

Oz! Sara felt her heart do a twist and flutter before it began to beat double time against her ribs. His eyes! was all she could think. They were a glorious emerald green, the most beautiful green, Sara thought.

Emotions swirled through those dark depths. Love, surprise, anger, heartache, and several others danced across them in a span of seconds. A flame of desire sparked in Sara's stomach and an icicle of guilt stabbed into her chest.

They stood there in a frozen moment, the world dropping away around them. Nothing seemed to exist but them. Sara had no idea how long they stayed like that before Katy broke in. "Momma, what's wrong?"

A weak smile on her lips, Sara looked down at her little joy. "Nothing honey," Swallowing the lump in her throat, Sara risked making eye contact with Oz again. "How have you been?" She asked and immediately knew how lame she sounded.

"All right, you?" his voice was a deep tenor and Sara could hear the thickness of emotion in it.

"Things are good," she nearly whispered.

Oz dropped his eyes. He couldn't bear to look at her. Nearly ten years had turned her into a beautiful woman and the spike of longing for her tore a hole into his soul. His heart was pounding so hard in his ears; he was surprised that the people around them couldn't hear it.

Sara chewed her lip, her mind screaming, Idiot! Say something! What? What can I say? Anything just don't stand there! "I'm sorry..."

His head shot up, the hard look in his gaze froze the words on Sara's tongue. "It's in the past, water under the bridge. We made our choices and now it's too late to worry about them."

She nodded, her heart plummeting to the pit of her stomach. For all the world, she wished she could tell him how she felt, to just open up and say what was running through her mind. I was so young and stupid! I can't believe how much I hurt you! But the words stayed locked in her heart and mind. With a flash, she suddenly realized why he was back in town and berated herself for not remembering sooner. I should go. I don't want to add to his pain. He just lost one of the most important people in his life.

An iron fist clenched down on Oz's chest when Sara's lips trembled, her eyes moist. I've gotta get out of here! Now! He knew he wouldn't be able to stand the sight of Sara crying. His emotions couldn't take much more. Pulling from deep inside, he plastered his most charming smile on his face. It felt so fake and brittle, too tight to hold on to long but he clung fast to it as he said, "Well, it was nice seeing you again. Paw's expecting me back soon, so I've gotta run." He started toward the checkout moving as fast as he could without looking like he was running away. Isn't that what you are doing? The question spun out from the back of his mind. He didn't bother to answer. He just stepped up to a register and unpacked his cart. With the few items stacked in front of him he knew that he'd have to come back in a day or two. He decided he'd worry about that later. Much later!

***

From the moment she saw Oz with Katy, Sara felt bad, horrible. Regret and guilt bayed at her heels like two rabid bloodhounds hot on the trial of her heart. They closed in, growing larger and more persistent with each minute that passed. She watched Oz high tail it to the register, her mind still reeling from the shock of seeing him for the first time in over nine years.

"Momma, what's wrong?" Katy asked again, snapping Sara out of her thoughts.

She knelt down and brushed her little angel's hair back. "Nothing, Katydid, Momma's just thinking. Why don't we finish shopping? Uncle Paul and aunt Rache will be coming over soon."

Katy smiled and nodded her head. "Can I pick out desert?"

"Sure baby," Focusing on her child, she managed to keep busy enough to hold thoughts of Oz out of her mind for the rest of the shopping trip.

It wasn't so easy to keep him out once she got back home. While helping Katy finish up her school work and greeting Paul and Rachel when they arrived, Oz slipped into her thoughts several times.

"Paul if you'll watch Katydid, Rache and I'll get started on dinner." Sara said as she led them into the house.

"Sure, no problem, Katy and I've got lots to do, don't we?" Paul grinned at the little girl.

"Can you give me a horsy ride?" Katy asked sliding her hand into Paul's outstretched one.

"You want one of those?" he asked with mock surprise.

Katy bounced and shouted, "Yes, yes, yes!"

Sara and Rachel laughed while they walked off. They didn't say a word until after they'd reached the privacy of the kitchen.

"Paul said that Oz dropped by the store today," Rachel said, her voice way too casual.

"Really?" Sara could tell that her friend was hinting at something, but she wasn't sure she wanted to know what it was.

"Paul thinks that Oz didn't know that Katy was your daughter."

With those words, the hounds of guilt and regret treed Sara's heart. In Oz's eyes, she had betrayed him, she'd stood him up at the altar then almost three years later married his best friend. Until that moment, she'd never considered it that way, but maybe I did. Sara worried.

"What's wrong? You look like you'd just swallowed a bug?" Rachel asked pressing the back of her hand to Sara's forehead.

"Nothing...I'm fine." She felt her lips tremble and tried to force them into a tight line before Rachel noticed. Too late!

"Don't give me that! I know there was something between you and Oz. There were rumors about what happened the day he left town, but only you two know what really happened. So spill it!" Her dark gray eyes turning hard as cold steel, she locked her long fingers on Sara's shoulders. Though Sara was a good half foot taller than Rachel, the command in Rachel's gaze seemed to make her tower over Sara.

For several seconds Sara held her composure, keeping her defenses up. But the steady strength of her friend's eyes broke through and Sara crumbled. "Ah hell, Rache, I can't keep anything from you." She hadn't spoken of the day, not once in all the years that had passed. But she knew it all by heart, every detail burned forever into her memory. Tears welled in her black brown eyes with each word she relived.

The tears spilled over the rims of her eyes as she finished her tale. Rachel brushed her thumb across Sara's cheek, wiping away one of the flowing drops. "You love him."

It wasn't a question but Sara felt like she had to answer anyway. She nodded her head, more tears tumbling down her cheeks. "OH! Rachel, do you think I betrayed him? I love Katy with all my heart and I wouldn't take back the years I had with Jake but how can I stand here still in love with Oz?"

Rachel wrapped her arms around Sara, squeezing for all she was worth. "No, no, I wouldn't say you betrayed him. And loving Oz isn't a betrayal to Jake's memory either. I know that's what you are thinking."

Wiping her eyes, Sara sniffled. "Thanks for listening to me bawl."

With another hug, Rachel said, "That's what friends are for, babe." She blotted Sara's cheeks with her sleeve and asked, "So what're you going to do about Oz?"

Shocked, Sara blinked several times at her friend.

Rachel arched one of her thin eyebrows. "You're not going to let him slip through your fingers again are you? It was a pretty dumb thing to do the first time around, you just said so yourself."

Sara couldn't help the laughter that burst from her. Spreading her lips into a wide grin, "Yeah, it was," she agreed around her continued giggles.

***

"Thanks for having us over. Dinner was great!" Paul patted his pooched stomach.

"My pleasure," Sara said leaning forward to accept Paul's kiss on her cheek and his bracing squeeze. Then she repeated the move for Rachel. "Good-night and have a safe drive."

"Night," they called as they started down the porch.

Sara held the door a long time after they'd disappeared into the darkness. She couldn't help but think of Jake every time Paul and Rachel visited. It was nice to have them over, she truly enjoyed their company, but the lingering sense of loneliness weighed heavily on her heart.

With a deep sigh, she shut and locked the door. She headed up stairs, turning off the lights along the way. It was so quiet in the house she could almost imagine she was alone, which added to the weight of her heart. The bedside lamp was still on in Katy's room. Her golden hair fanned out over her pillow, a few strands straying across her smooth brow. Madeline, her doll, was crushed against her chest, her arms clinging to it like a lifeline.

Sara breathed another sigh. Her world, her little angel was one of her heart's only comforts since Jake's death. She moved over to the bed, gently adjusting the blanket around Katy. Emotion welled in her chest as she brushed the wayward strands of hair out of her little girl's face. She flicked the light off after kissing the soft pink bow of Katy's lips.

"Sleep tight, Angel," she whispered and headed to her own room.

A few minutes later, she sat in front of her vanity dressed in a long flannel nightgown. Brushing her auburn locks straight as rain, she spotted the reflection of Jake's picture on her nightstand.

"Jake would understand," Rachel's voice floated back into Sara's mind from earlier in the evening. Sara had to admit that she felt like she was betraying everyone. When Oz had first left, she'd been devastated. She spent over a week locked in her bedroom torn up inside with guilt. Jake had been her savior. He came and dragged her out of the house, forced her to have fun. And that's how it started. Jake spent more and more time with her until one day Sara realized he was not just being a good friend, he was being a good boyfriend.

Oz had been gone over two years when Jake proposed. At first, she didn't know what to say. She told him she needed time to think. The first thing that came to her mind was that she still loved Oz, but she knew she'd lost him. Lost what they had because she'd been too afraid to act. She accepted Jake's ring because she couldn't let another good man slip through her fingers. She'd been determined; fear wasn't going to ruin her life again!

"Jake, before I accept, you must understand while I love you, I've never stopped loving Oz." She remembered the night and how she needed to be honest with Jake.

In the movie reel of her memory, she could see Jake rub his hand through his blonde curls. "Sara, it took me a long time to ask you because Oz was my best friend. I feel like I'm worse than a toad for loving you, but I couldn't live with myself if I didn't let you know how much I care about you. I need you as my wife." With tears in her eyes, tears identical to the ones she'd had shimmering in her eyes on that long ago night, Sara knew that was all that he'd had to say, all he would have ever had to say. That he understood, that he loved her and despite feeling the same guilt, they should move on.

Turning around to look Jake's picture full on, she could almost hear his voice again. "We had our time; don't let the past hold you back. I love you too much to want you to live alone the rest of your life." The tears tumbled down her cheeks. "That's exactly something he'd say." She laughed to herself.

"But how can I fix things with Oz?" she asked, dabbing at her cheeks with the back of her hand.

CHAPTER EIGHT

CROWLEY'S BEND

Oz slowly pulled the dodge off the road. Bright yellow carnations waved in the breeze. Several other floral arrangements crowded the shoulder. But Oz couldn't take his eyes off the carnations.

The memorial spelled out the words; A DEAR FRIEND, YOU'LL BE MISSED.

"More than you'll ever know," Oz muttered to the flowers.

After several deep breaths, he climbed out of the truck. Gravel crunched under his boots. Such a normal sound yet it seemed so strange, almost surreal, here. Just like his life. Nothing had felt right for a very long time now.

He knelt beside his grandmother's memorial. Many of the flowers had wilted, their edges brown and limp in the late spring heat. The air was perfumed with the overly sweet scent of fading blooms. He brushed the soft wrinkled petals on a bouquet of roses.

A voice in the back of his mind told him he should get back to the farm. Paw's gonna need me there when everyone starts stopping by. But the questions haunting him made the thought of facing all those people unbearable.

"Maw, why didn't you tell me Jake had married Sara?" Finding that out after all these years twisted his already tortured emotions.

He buried his face in his hands. "Oh, Maw, I feel so lost. I wish you were here."

A cool breeze slipped through the trees to whisper against Oz's cheek like a gentle caress. It drew his gaze down the gorge. The signs of Margaret's accident marred the ground. Scattered bits of debris lined the path to where the rescue workers had cut his grandmother from the wreck. Oz scrunched his brows.

"How fast were you going, Maw?" The question seemed to hang on the quiet air.

He'd never known Margaret to be a speeder. She must've fallen asleep at the wheel. His mind reasoned, yet he didn't buy it. The question he'd asked in the hospital came back to him ten times worse now. "How could this have happened?"

He did it! The wind whistled in his ears. The words made Oz jump, nearly tumbling into the memorial.

Panting, he mumbled, "I didn't hear anything! Just my overactive imagination, that's all. No voice on the wind."

He darted glances all around, half hoping to find someone hiding in the nearby bushes. But no one was there.

Icy fingers crawled across his skin. Hands of dread pulled his gaze back down the gorge. A breeze stirred at the bottom. Tree limbs snapped forward like angry whips. Dirt and debris kicked up in little cyclones. The wind danced before Oz's eyes for several heartbeats then charged up the hill.

He froze; his muscles turned to stone. Fear held him in an iron grip. This can't be real, it can't be! His mind screamed.

Like an invisible fist the wind slammed into him. The world tilted and swayed as if he was standing on the deck of a ship in a roiling sea. The light dimmed. Darkness rushed in swallowing everything from sight. He fell into a black void.

***

Margaret yawned. She couldn't remember ever being so tired in her life. Walking out to her little car she smiled. Mrs. Tutters had been sweeter than a bowl full of sugar. Too many times to count she offered to pay Margaret for her help. Though Margaret could easily refuse money, she couldn't bring herself to turn down the woolen sweater that Mrs. Tutters had knitted herself.

"I may not be able to get around much or see across the room without my glasses, but my hands still work. And I won't take nothin' for free." Margaret laughed softly remembering the stubborn flare of pride the elder lady had shown.

"It is a beautiful frock," she patted the folded bundle as she set it in the passenger seat.

On the road her mind drifted to her Doug, her dear heart. She could already see him slumped in his favorite chair half asleep, a book forgotten in his lap. No matter what she said he always waited up for her. How can I sleep while you're not with me? He'd asked that question every time she'd argued with him about it. A large smile spread across her face. It seemed that her love for him grew with each passing day.

Cresting a rise in the road, she spotted Crowley's Bend up ahead. A shiver trembled through her body. She'd never understood her unease with the stretch of road. Probably because of all the accidents that happen here, she guessed.

Yet the feeling was worse this time. Closer to the bend, the deeper the chill sank into her bones. She shook her head but her unease remained. "It's just a curve, nothin' to be afraid of."

A strong gust rocked the car. Frost cracked along the edge of the windshield. Margaret slammed the brake to the floor. No response!

Her heart pounded out of her chest. Fear blazed through her veins like a wild bonfire. Sweat slicked her palms.

"Oh my God! What was that?" The words barely escaped her mouth before the wind hammered into the car again.

The steering wheel slipped in her hands. The tires squealed like fingernails on a blackboard. She couldn't control the car. It swerved into the guardrail. The screech of metal against metal slashed out into the night. Sparks danced over the windows like a fireworks show gone horribly wrong.

Terror consumed Margaret. She panicked and yanked hard on the door handle. A wave of relief flooded through her as she pushed it open.

No you don't! I won't let you get away that easily! A voice colder than ice slapped her in the face.

She had to gasp for breath. Her lungs felt raw, half frozen from the chill. "OH GOD! WHAT'S HAPPENING? OH GOD! OH GOD!" Her voice was cracked with fear.

Ah, what fun! I'll enjoy your death even more than your daughter's! The wind howled its heartless mirth over Margaret.

"YOU BASTARD!" Margaret shrieked. Anger surged through her body like a tidal wave. Snarling at her invisible attacker, she wrenched the door closed.

The wind's icy laughter echoed outside the car. Determined more than she had ever been before, Margaret fought the steering wheel. Slowly, the car straightened out, drawing away from the guardrail.

A large grin spread across her face. She had control again, and it had never felt so good. Stepping on the brake she laughed. "Thank God! It works!"

All was quiet, the wind apparently gone back to wherever it came from. Margaret started to pull over. Her hands were shaking, her heart thumping double time; she needed a moment before trying to drive the rest of the way home.

Glancing all around, she asked, "What on Earth was that? Definitely not the wind!"

No, not that. Much, much worse! A blast of air rammed into the back of the car like a Mack truck.

Margaret smacked her forehead on the steering wheel. Bright spots flashed before her eyes. Bells rang from everywhere. Pain sliced through her skull with vicious razor blades.

Before she could clear her head enough to think, to react, she was slung across the console. Her jaw bounced off the armrest. A whip crack of agony nearly emptied her stomach.

Now you die! Haahaahaa! The cold voice bellowed into her ears.

Pushing shakily up into a sitting position, she looked out the windshield. A horrible shriek stabbed the darkness as her car broke through the guardrail.

She couldn't hear her own screams over the shatter of glass and the crunch of metal. Thrown back and forth she felt like dice in a metal cup. Her head hit too many things to count. The lights began to fade in front of her eyes.

In the consuming black she heard the hateful wind howl with glee. Icy fingers seeped into her skin. They tightened around her chest. Cold flooded her body. You're gonna taste so sweet! The frozen hand inside her yanked as if to rip her heart out. A horrible pain beyond anything she had ever experienced slashed through her body. Without doubt, she knew it was after her soul.

"N, no! I w, won't give up!" Margaret summoned all her faith and strength. "Y, you w, won't have me, you bastard!" With her mind, her will, she tore free of those cold fingers.

A cry of pure rage echoed over the land. Margaret smiled. I beat him! I did it! The thought drifted through her mind as she slipped down to the bottomless darkness of unconsciousness.

***

Oz collapsed onto all fours. The small breakfast he'd enjoyed emptied all over the road. Dizzy and weak, he sat there. His head hung limp from his shoulders like a broken pendulum. He almost expected it to detach from his neck and tumble down the hill.

"Oh God! What is wrong with me?" He slumped back, half lying on the shoulder, half on the road. Thoughts swirled through his mind too fast to comprehend. Nothing made sense. He couldn't have seen what he knew he just had. It was impossible.

Trapping his temples between his palms, he moaned, "Not real! It couldn't have been real! It was just a hallucination from stress!" But he couldn't believe it.

He struggled to sit up. The world was still spinning. Squeezing his eyes shut, he willed himself to calm down. "C'mon man, it wasn't real, now pull it together! Paw needs you!" he ordered, glad that his voice already sounded stronger.

With a trembling effort, he climbed to his feet. He wobbled for a second, forced to clutch his thighs to keep from falling. Pins and needles prickled along his legs, up into his back. "How long have I been here?" He mumbled and glanced at his watch. On a hissed breath, he did a double take. "An hour! I couldn't have been her that long!"

The loss of time scared him almost as bad as the hallucination had. The words blackouts, mental breakdown, flashed across his mind in giant neon letters. He shook his head, yet fear and suspicion remained.

"God please!" he begged. A whisper of air brushed over his cheek. Like a comforting caress form his grandmother, it soothed some of his anxiety.

He gazed down at the gorge below. Still torn by doubt, he stared at the scene. He would never accept defeat. He would fight with every breath he had to stay sane. Already he'd held on longer than his father had. Gritting his teeth, he said, "I can do it, I have to!"

But what about the hallucinations, they feel so real! The question haunted him. Especially with the way the last episode seemed to try to explain his grandmother's death.

He clenched his fists and turned away from the gorge. "Her death was a terrible accident, nothing more. These hallucinations are due to stress and loss." His voice was steady, the strength completely returned to it. But as he slid back into his truck, the doubt still lingered.

Starting the engine, he looked at the memorial once more. The yellow carnations waved merrily in the breeze. For a long time he couldn't take his eyes off them. He gripped the steering wheel and mumbled, "I need to hurry back. Paw's gonna be worried."

CHAPTER NINE

UNANSWERED QUESTION

"Osmond Green is that you?" Frank Clark patted Oz's shoulder the moment Oz entered the room. "As I live and breathe, you've sure filled out. I can remember when you were all hands and feet."

With a weak half grin, Oz nodded. "Yeah, I finally grew into them."

The smile dropped off the other man's face. He ran one of his big hands through his smoke streaked copper hair. "I'm so sorry about your Maw. No finer woman ever lived." Before Oz could respond he was crushed in a powerful hug.

"Thanks, Mr. Clark." Oz tried to think of a way out of the embrace while his ribs were still intact.

"Let the boy go Frank," Helen Clark came to his rescue, swatting her husband on the arm.

"All right, Len, I'll let ya have a turn at him." Frank stepped to the side.

His wife looked tiny compared to her stocky husband. Yet her fierce hug was almost as powerful. "Margaret was my best friend. I know how much you must miss her." She leaned back and cupped his cheeks. "She was so proud of you."

"Thank you. It's so hard to believe she's gone sometimes." He shook his head.

Helen nodded. "Yes it is. I half expect her to walk in and start tellin' us about her next project."

Oz sighed. "She loved to help people."

"That she did, that she did indeed. I couldn't list the number of times she helped me." Tears in her eyes she stroked his shoulder and turned to her husband's open arms.

Slowly, Oz worked his way around the room. One by one old family friends greeted him. Somehow their heartfelt condolences soothed his anxiety. Though he couldn't forget about the hallucination he'd had out by the memorial, it didn't seem so troubling here and now. People experience grief in their own way. The thought helped him feel easy with his loss, and the fear for his sanity. He wasn't crazy and he wasn't going to quit fighting to stay that way.

***

After hours of tears, laughs, and old stories, the guests dwindled down to the last two. Frank gave Oz another bracing squeeze. "It's sure nice to have you back in town. You've been working too hard out in the big city. Why don't you take a few weeks off?"

Oz patted the other man's shoulder. "I think I just might."

"Good. Well, I guess we better head home."

Helen gave Doug and Oz a hug and kiss on the cheek. Moisture still shimmered in her eyes but she managed a bright smile. "We'd love to have the two of you over for dinner anytime."

"Sounds good to me. Maybe next week," Doug said opening the door for the Clarks.

"See y'all later." Frank waved and led his little wife out to their truck.

Joining his grandfather on the porch, Oz laid his arm over the older man's shoulders. They stood like that until the flash of the Clark's taillights faded from sight. As one, they turned and headed back into the house, to the kitchen.

"I guess it's a good thing I didn't know what all to get at the grocery store. We have enough casseroles and pies to feed an army." Oz said looking into the crammed refrigerator.

"I don't know." Doug scratched his chin as if in deep thought. "Considering the way you can pack it away, I'd say it wouldn't last that long." He chuckled.

Oz snorted. "Look who's talking. Didn't I see you go back for thirds?"

Doug clutched his chest feigning shock. Oozing mock offense, he said, "How could you say something like that about your own flesh 'n blood?"

"Easy, it's the truth," Oz quipped.

"Oh that hurts, that really hurts! My own grandson even!" he covered his face with both hands, his shoulders shaking overly hard.

Poking Doug in the ribs, Oz announced, "And the Oscar for the biggest ham of the year goes to Douglas Green!"

Laughing, Doug bowed. "Thank you, thank you! I owe it all to my fans!"

A heavy fist tightened around Oz's heart. He couldn't explain the sudden emotional twist. Loneliness and loss settled over him like a cloak of lead. He struggled to keep his smile on but it crumbled from his face like dust in the wind.

Turned away from his grandfather, he tried to hide his sadness. Strong arms spun him around. Before he could react, they wrapped him in a powerful embrace. "I know, I know. She's left a hole in both of our lives. Just let it out." Doug soothed, his hands patting Oz's back.

The love, the understanding, lightened the weight on his heart. Holding his grandfather tight, he whispered, "Thank you Paw."

***

Thin blades of light cut across the floor. Inch by inch they slipped along marking time the ancient way. Oz blinked as the rays swept over his face. For the last hour he'd been waiting for the sun to rise. Hands pressed to his face, he scrubbed at his weariness. But no matter how hard he rubbed he couldn't wipe off its bone deep hold on him. His need for rest almost made him roll over and go back to sleep.

Grunting, he threw his legs over the side of the bed. More sleep wouldn't have done him any good. The dreams, night terrors really, were growing worse. Though he did take some comfort in the fact that they were the same dreams he'd been suffering before Margaret's death.

"If only I could get them to go away completely," Oz grumbled around a yawn. Stretching, he staggered to the dresser. The new clothes he'd purchased at Paul's shop sat in the top drawer. They looked like travelers from a distant future in amongst the remains of his teenage wardrobe.

A few minutes later he was dressed and heading downstairs. Sounds from the kitchen told him Doug was up. A sniff of the air had Oz sighing, "Ah, coffee!"

Without pause he stepped into the kitchen and followed his nose straight to the black liquid of life. The rest of the world ceased to exist. There was only the glorious dark brew. A mug in hand, he poured in as much as he could. He let the steam waft over him, savoring the rich aroma.

"I was wondering' when you'd come down," Doug said.

Oz started, nearly sloshing hot coffee all down his front. He was so wrapped in the drink he'd forgotten his grandfather was there.

Doug grinned. "Didn't mean to startle you. I thought you saw me."

Oz shook his head. "Nah, I was too much in need of caffeine to notice."

"I know the feelin'. I'm not halfway human until I've had at least one cup." Doug took a sip from his own mug.

Thin streams of smoke drifted up from behind his head. Oz chuckled and nodded toward the stove. "So, what is it you're burning?"

"Damn!" He snapped around, his coffee cup coming down on the counter with a clink.

The sausage only singed, Doug turned off the burner. As if all part of an old routine he knew by heart, Oz flowed into the action. He set the table, topping off his grandfather's coffee. While Doug brought the food over, Oz finished making the last piece of toast. In unison, they settled before their plates.

After giving a quick grace, they dug in. Comfortable silence filled the room. Oz enjoyed the meal – even the slightly burnt spots on the sausage were alright. Buttering his last slice of toast, Oz glanced up at his grandfather. The fist of loneliness that had gripped him the night before squeezed his chest again.

Though he'd tried to keep her out of his mind, Sara suddenly filled his thoughts. She'd married his best friend, yet she couldn't marry him. She had a child, a child that could've been his. Should've been mine! The loneliness tightened. The question he'd asked his grandmother at her memorial slapped in the face.

Again he looked at his grandfather. They never told me. My own blood and they never told me. He had to know why.

"Paw, um, there's something I need to ask you." His voice didn't sound steady to his own ears.

"Sure, what's up, boy-o?" Doug said, so much more like his old self than he'd been the last time they'd sat at the breakfast table.

Oz didn't know how to approach the subject. He'd tried everything he could to keep Sara out of his thoughts all these years and now he was about to bring her up, focus on only her. But he had to know, just had to know. "Well, um, well, while I was in town yesterday, I ran into Paul, you know, Jake's older brother."

Doug nodded, his face suddenly blank of all expression.

Oz took a moment before he continued. Deciding to just dive in, he spoke fast. "I want to know why you and Maw never told me that Sara had gotten married, married to Jake for God's sake!"

Doug puffed his cheeks up then blew out a long breath. Fiddling with the ear of his mug, he said, "I knew I'd have to say something' about that sooner or later." He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. "I always felt like I was lying to you because we never told you. But when they first got together, Maggie and I felt you were still too raw over Sara to bring it up. We didn't see the use in hashing' it out if it was goin' to just make things harder on you. Later, the time never seemed right. Heck, Ozzie, you hadn't even asked about Jake or anybody else in town since you left."

For a long moment, a very long moment, they sat there staring into space. Finally, Oz said, "Thank you." Though he felt raw, he did appreciate his grandparent's attempt to save him more heartache. Looking back, he was sort of glad that he hadn't known about Jake and Sara sooner. The pain he was feeling about it now would have been ten times worse had he known when it had happened.
CHAPTER TEN

FUNERAL

The hollow echo of his footfalls ringing back to him was the only sounds Oz could hear. He had no idea how he'd found himself in the empty corridor. All that he knew for sure was that he was in some kind of hospital. Fear tingled along his spine with each step he took. His gut slowly twisted into knots.

The overhead fluorescents began to flicker and sputter, flashing light in front of one of the plain white doors spotted throughout the hall. At eye level was the room number, 248. Oz stopped and read the number twice with a desire to draw some kind of understanding from the ordinary black paint.

The door opened inward, its hinges giving off a slow and faint moan. Sweat sprang out on Oz's palms, gooseflesh ran across his arms.

"H...hello!" His voice blasted into the ethereal silence like dynamite. He gasped in a breath, and held it in afraid of what or whose attention he might have caught.

For several seconds he listened to the silence. There was something there, something almost below his range of hearing. He strained to hear the sound more clearly. As it grew stronger, Oz noticed that there was a strange cadence to it, almost like the swaying of a rocking chair. Creeak-ahh! Creeak-ahh!

Oz stepped into the room, his body moving on its own without his command. The creaking grew louder, a shadow swept back and forth across the floor in front of him. He took another step beyond the entrance and felt his breath freeze in his lungs

His father's glassy green eyes starred out of his bloodless face. Trevor Howard hung from a braided rope of torn sheets. The makeshift noose turned the skin of his throat a dark purple, a sign that his death happened hours ago.

Before Oz's mind could react, his father's head shifted, locking his dead eyes on his son. Trevor opened his mouth; his tongue wiggled across the ash gray lips like some half dry worm. "They're gonna come for you, boy-o!" His voice rasped out like the sound of wind through a dark grave. "He's gonna send them for you!" Crazed laughter echoed through the room.

Oz couldn't speak. His throat was swollen shut. Fear tightened around his spine like a cold fist.

"You have work to do still, son! Don't forget what the old woman said, find my secret, boy! You don't have much time!" He laughed again, drops of greenish-gray phlegm flying out of his mouth.

Oz summoned all his courage and asked, "Who is coming for me?"

Trevor cackled, "You'll see, hehehehe, you'll see! Hahahaha!"

A hand fell on Oz's shoulder biting into the muscle. Icy fear seeped into his skin as the hand spun him around. His throat let loose his terror, screaming with all his being at what stood before him.

***

"Wake up! Ozzie, wake up! It's just a bad dream!" Doug shook Oz, snapping him out of his horror filled sleep.

The nightmare faded, the hideous images slowly disappearing before Oz's eyes. In their place the shape of his grandfather's concerned face formed. Oz lunged forward, crushing Doug to his chest. "Paw!" He needed the strength, the solid feel of another person. He tried to ignore the part of his mind that said he needed someone softer, someone who's almost black eyes would comfort him with their smile. Don't think about her. Sara isn't here! He ordered his stray thoughts without any hope they would obey.

"Boy, it must have been one helluva dream! I heard you clear on the other side of the house," said Doug. He pulled back from his grandson and didn't like what he saw in Oz's sharp green eyes. Blood vessels streaked across the whites like heat cracks in fine China. Puffy dark bags hung under his eyes. This is the third night in a row I've heard him cry out in his sleep. Doug worried.

"Yeah, it was somethin'," said Oz. He began to feel uncomfortable under his grandfather's studying stare. Scooting back to lean against the headboard of the bed, he tried to think of a way to change the subject. He had no desire to talk about what was haunting his dreams. He rubbed his hand over the prickling hairs on the nape of his neck.

But after a long silence, he was still unable to think of anything to say to ease his grandfather's worries and send him on back to bed. He shrugged, deciding aversion was the best choice of diversion. "Um, I guess I'm gonna go back to sleep now, Paw."

"We both know perfectly well you are not going to try to sleep any more tonight. You think I haven't noticed the way you've been waking at night? Why don't you tell me what's bothering you?" It pained Doug to see the effects the nightmares had on Oz. Since Maggie died, neither had gotten much sleep, but Oz looked ten times worse than Doug did himself.

"It's nothin', Paw. Just some bad dreams, that's all." And the fear that I'm losing my mind! Oz mentally finished. But he never could say those words to Doug. His grandmother's death was already weighing heavily on the older man. Oz couldn't add to that burden with his fears. Thinking of his grandmother, his mind flashed back to what she had told him the day that she had died, what his father had just reminded him of in his dream. Find my father's secret. How?

Doug's voice interrupted Oz's thoughts. "Is it because the funeral is coming up in a few hours?"

There was sadness, a deep sense of loss in Doug's words. It squeezed Oz's heart. He wished there was something he could do, but all he seemed to manage was to make things worse for his grandfather. With a deep breath, he vowed he wouldn't allow his night terrors, and his fear, to cause Doug any more pain.

He pulled out a brilliant smile, the smile he reserved for meetings with his building clients. "Paw, don't worry. Maw wouldn't want you so upset at her funeral. She'd want us to live our lives to the fullest. So, why don't you go back to bed and try to get some sleep. That's what I'm planning on doing."

Doug breathed a heavy sigh. "I miss her."

Sudden tear stung the back of Oz's eyes. He blinked them away and crushed his grandfather to him again. "I miss her too." And that was all either of them had to say as they tried to hold on to the last member of their family.

***

Oz scribbled his name down on the funeral parlor's register; his was the third on the list. With a quick glance, he read his grandfather's name in the second spot and was a little surprised to see Ed Nelson's name taking precedence in the first space. Oz shook his head thinking. Of course, Ed owns the parlor. He would've had first crack at signing in. And anyway what does it matter?

The question made him realize how out of sorts he was. Since the night he arrived back in town, he hadn't managed to sleep more than a couple hours a stretch. And that was only after he'd completely exhausted himself.

He looked over at his grandfather. From across the room Oz could see the glimmer of tears on the older man's cheeks. Oz took a deep breath. His own eyes itched with emotion. He waited a few moments longer to give his grandfather some time before he went to the casket himself. The wood was polished to a high glass shine, reflecting light in large streaks. Under the polish, the casket itself was a deep, rich cobalt blue. Maw's favorite color.

The air hitched in his chest. He never knew how much losing the only mother he had ever known would hurt. His jaw flexed, lips thinned as he decided to take a page from his own book. It's about time I listen to my own advice. Maw wants to be remembered but she wouldn't want us to suffer.

He blinked several times to make sure his eyes were still dry. In the back of his mind, he could feel the growing press of Margaret's mourners behind him. With another steadying breath, he started forward.

A heavy silence fell over the room. Oz could almost feel the quiet like a tangible weight. The closer he came to the casket the harder it was to keep his back straight and his head held high. It became an effort not to just collapse on to one of the nearby pews and bury his face in his palms.

He put his hand on his grandfather's shoulder and had to suppress the urge to sigh with relief when the silence eased back. Doug patted Oz's hand then shuffled away to take his seat. Oz looked at his grandmother. Ed had done an amazing job. Margaret looked at peace, almost as if she were only taking a nap. If only she was just sleeping, Oz thought.

"I love you," he kissed his fingers and gently pressed them to his grandmother's cheek. Cold and loose, the skin held no signs of the life that it once contained.

A chill seeped into Oz's body. It drew his attention away from his grandmother's face. The air turned to lead in his chest. Standing on the opposite side of the casket from him was his father. He was dressed in a dark suit that matched Oz's right down to the charcoal gray tie. Trevor smiled, his eyes glazed and milky. Oz couldn't move, fear pumped through his veins in ice cold bursts.

"You're running out of time, son! They want you, he wants you, and you haven't even started. You have a lot of work to do! Don't forget her advice!" He waved a limp hand toward Margaret's body.

Oz dropped his gaze and had to snap his mouth shut to keep from screaming. His grandmother's eyes were open, the hazed over pupils swung back and forth. The muscles in her jaw began to work, forcing her sown lips apart. Torn, bloodless skin, they moved to shape words.

"Ozzie...you, you have w, work left to do. Do y, you hear me? Find you, your d, daddy's secret. You must stop them!" Her voice was exactly like it had been the day she died.

Oz had to get out of there! Terror churned in his stomach and his legs felt like Jell-O. He started to turn, to run as fast as he could out of that insanity, when his father said, "You better hurry. He has only a few more left before he'll send them after her!" Oz followed the ash gray finger Trevor pointed toward the parlor's entrance.

Sara! Oz couldn't handle any more. He sprinted away from the casket, knocking people out of his path. He brushed passed Sara without a glance at her worried expression.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

FRIENDS

When the sign of Nelson's Funeral Parlor came into view, Sara felt the first pull of doubt. She had no idea how Oz would react to her being there but she couldn't stay away. The need to pay her last respects to Margaret was too strong to ignore.

Rachel reached back over the front seat to give Sara's hand a reassuring squeeze. Though the nagging worry remained, Sara was glad that Paul and Rachel had insisted that they take Katy and herself to the funeral. They gave her strength, and she was afraid she'd need it.

As they pulled into a parking space, Sara took a deep breath. Katy slipped her small hand into her mother's, her hazel eyes bright with innocence. "Momma, is Mrs. Margaret goin' to heaven like daddy?"

Tears stung Sara's eyes. She pulled Katy into her arms. Faces pressed cheek-to-cheek Sara said, "Yes, honey, that's right." Her world, her life was in the wide smile of her little girl.

They started across the lot, a soft spring breeze ruffling their black clothes. The sky was an unrelenting blue, a complete contrast to the somber mood of the day. The sun was a cheery ball of light further claiming that the world doesn't stop for anyone.

Sara's eyes darted around the chapel. She couldn't have kept from looking for Oz if she'd wanted to. She spotted him beside his grandfather in front of his grandmother's casket. As Doug turned to move away, Margaret's pale face came into view. She almost looks like she's resting. Sara thought, and watched Oz pass a kiss across his fingers to his grandmother's cheek. A sigh hitched in Sara's chest. Suddenly, she wished she could go to him and soothe away his pain, to hold him in her arms until all his sorrow faded.

She shook herself from her reverie. About to turn toward the funeral register she paused, caught by the sight of Oz going stalk still. For several seconds he stood ridgid and stared into the flowers on the other side of the casket. He dropped his head down, a strange look of horror stamped across his face. For a second, Sara could have sworn he seemed to be listening to something that the lifeless body had to say, the look of terror tightening his expression further. A moment later, he began to turn away from his grandmother, his face twisted with emotion. He paused in mid-stride, took a moment then he looked straight at Sara. Her lungs froze. The terror in his wide green eyes kicked her heart into a crazed gallop.

Oz sprinted through the pews toward her, bumping into fellow mourners without apology. His face was whiter than his shirt when he brushed past her, all his being focused on the door leading outside.

Sara didn't take time to think. She looked at Rachel and said, "Rache, can you watch Katy for me? I'll just be a few seconds."

Rachel nodded, her hand already reaching for Katy's. "No problem, hon, you go to him, he really needs someone now."

"Thanks," she threw the reply over her shoulder as she rushed after Oz.

He'd kept running well after he'd cleared the exit. He didn't stop until he crossed the parking lot. Sara found him leaning against his truck, his head trapped between his hands. She stopped a few feet away from him, a sudden seed of reluctance sprouting in her stomach. What am I going to say?

Before she had a chance to think of something, Oz snapped his head up. A flutter of longing spun across her nerves, making a strange compliment to the concern coursing through her body. They stood only an arm's span apart with the silence settling between them like a canyon. She studied him in the widening quiet. There were so many small things about him that she had missed and never realized. The sharp green eyes, the hard angle of his jaw, the boyish tumble of his sandy hair all had her blood flowing like whitewater rapids. She noticed the added width to his shoulders and even under his black sports coat, she could see the tapering of his body into a narrow waist.

She shook herself to try to pull her thoughts back in order. Say something, do something, just don't stand here staring at him! Her mind demanded. But no words came to her. She opened her mouth and still nothing came out. Looking into his eyes she saw the swirl of emotion floating in those deep green pools. They were bright with need, tugging at Sara's heartstrings. The pull of those dark depths was too much for her to handle.

Before she realized what she was doing, she crossed the space between them and wrapped her arms around Oz. He didn't resist. No, he slid into the embrace, forming Sara to his body. The world vanished. All that remained was the heavy rhythm of their hearts beating. Oz held on so tight that for a second the years between them receded.

Sara had no idea how long they stayed like that when Oz finally pulled away. The look in his eyes spoke of warring emotions. He turned from her suddenly and squeezed the top rim of his truck bed. She could hear his breaths rasp out. He fought for control of something; something she was afraid might destroy the repairs they had only just begun to make between their hearts.

She stood completely still. She didn't dare try to breathe when Oz started to speak. "Sara... I.... My father..." His voice trailed off.

She still couldn't resist the pull of him, she had to comfort him. His pain called to her too strongly to ignore. She laid her hand on his shoulder. The muscles loosened under her touch. Her heartbeat doubled at the sign. "Oz, I'm here for you."

If she had been anyone else, he wouldn't have thought about telling her what was screaming inside of him. But the love and heartache he felt around her locked the words in his chest. But the need to say something wouldn't let him go; throwing his internal conflict into a full-fledged war he wasn't sure he could win.

"Oz, I'm sorry, I know you don't want to hear it, but I am. We were friends once; I'd like to be again." She wanted to be much more, so much more, but kept that to herself for now.

He turned his head toward her and knew he was too weak to resist the look in her black-brown eyes. So be it! He thought and gave in to her concerns. "I'm afraid I'm losing my mind."

***

The sun was a happy ball of yellow smiling down from an azure sky. The bright light tipped the foliage of Peaceful Acres Cemetery with a golden sheen. Oz looked back to his grandmother's casket and realized how Margaret would have been glad that the day was so beautiful.

The priest's words were a droning buzz in the back of his mind. All he could think about was the near breakdown he'd had during his grandmother's viewing. And the woman standing next to him. She was so close he could smell her perfume. Lilies in Spring, it had been her favorite scent over nine years ago and breathing it in now stabbed a sharp blade of longing into the same spot in Oz's stomach it had back then.

He took a deep breath to pull his mind back together. But his thoughts settled on Sara and the conversation they'd had outside the funeral parlor.

"I'm afraid I'm losing my mind." His voice was soft, on the brink of defeat.

Her eyes bright with concern, Sara wrapped her arms around him. "It's ok, everybody feels like that after they've lost someone close to them."

Oz shook his head against her shoulder. In her arms he let down his guard, it was time to free himself of his fears. "It's not just Maw. Without her I feel adrift, but I've been fighting for my sanity long before she died."

Sara stroked his hair, whispering nonsense words to soothe his nerves. After several seconds of Oz's silence, she looked up into his face and asked, "So, why don't you just tell me about it?"

"Oh Sara!" The words lodged in his throat.

"It's OK, just start at the beginning," she held him so tight he could feel the steady rhythm of her heart. It gave him strength.

"It started about three years ago." He breathed, the words breaking something loose in his chest. It was still difficult for him to talk about it. He looked down into her deep eyes. There was something there that seemed to free the words the rest of the way. "I began to have this same nightmare over and over again." He told her everything. The details of the dreams, the sightings of his father, the episode he'd suffered at his grandmother's memorial, and even what he'd just seen in the funeral parlor. It all came flooding out of him. With the last word he slumped against Sara completely spent.

Her hands moved over his back, a sense of calm settled into his body. As Sara continued to rub his tense muscles, a spark began to grow in Oz's abdomen. It built until it became a roaring bonfire of arousal.

He jerked away from her as if he'd been burned; with the heat glowing inside of him he wouldn't have been surprised if he had been singed a bit. Mistaking his sudden retreat for embarrassment of his confession, Sara said, "It's all right, Oz." She stroked his shoulder. "Sounds like you've been through a lot. While I can see why you'd think you were losin' it, it seems to me more like stress is playing tricks on you. Anyway, I've always heard that if you've doubts about your sanity then you're normal."

She took his hand between hers and squeezed. The contact caught Oz off guard, stabbed him with a double-edge blade of longing and heartache. He shook his head to deny the feelings boiling inside of him. Sara saw the movement and rushed to comfort his fears. "You know this all might just be because your father had a break down and had to be institutionalized before you were even born. It could just be because you don't know why it happened. Without that information you could be creating all these events as a result." She paused to give him a hopeful smile then asked, "Have you ever gone down to the mental institution to find out what was wrong with your father?"

"Have you been taking psychology classes?" He tried to joke, to avoid the bomb dropped in his lap.

"A couple," Sara chuckled. "But don't worry, this counseling will be on the house. Now are you going to answer my question?"

Before he had a chance, Sara's little girl came running out of the funeral parlor, Rachel and Paul trotting after. "Momma, Momma!" Katy cried, her cheeks already stained with tears.

Sara swooped her daughter up into her arms, worry and concern dancing in her eyes. "What's wrong, angel?"

"I'm not sure, I was watching her when Rache went up to pay her last respects and she just started crying. Before I knew it she was down the aisle heading for the door." Paul ran a hand through the thin wisps of his remaining hair, making it stick up every which way.

"It's okay, no harm done." Sara smiled to relieve her frazzled brother-in-law. "I guess we all should head back in now. What do you say Katydid, do we go back inside?" She asked bouncing Katy onto her hip. Her little girl nodded against her side.

A hand fell on Oz's shoulder bringing him out of his thoughts. Sara's dark eyes stared deep into him almost as if she was trying to give him strength through those black pools. He laid his hand over hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. After Paul and Rachel had come out of the funeral parlor, they didn't have a chance to continue their conversation. In a way, Oz was glad. The interruption gave him time to think about Sara's question.

Walking with her to their cars, he leaned close to her ear and whispered, "I'm gonna check out the hospital where my father was committed."

She smiled up at him. "That's great. I hope it'll be what you need."

He hesitated for a second. What he wanted to ask her tore at him. Though he'd tried to forget her all these years, he'd never found anyone who'd meant as much to him. Taking a long breath, he asked, "Would you come with me?"

She nodded, a light flared in her dark eyes. "Call me tomorrow. We can go in the morning while Katy's at school."

CHAPTER TWELVE

BOUND

She was confused. Her thoughts were as hard to pin down as the wind. She stood over a fresh grave, the plastic tarp fluttering over the loose soil. She didn't know why she was there or why the name on the tombstone called to her. She knelt down to get a closer look at the epitaph.

Here lies

MARGARET GREEN

Beloved wife, mother, and friend

The words struck a chord but she couldn't remember where she'd heard the name before. She reached out to use the headstone for support to get back to her feet. Her hand slipped through the cool stone. She gasped, fear dumping over her like a gallon of icy water.

"What the hell?" She jerked her hand back and froze at the sight of it. The moonlight floated down, washing her in its pale glow. Her hand was a tapering mist, nothing more than a smoky shape. Panic flooded her. Had the headstone turned her hand into a plume of cold air! She pulled her other one up. A scream bubbled out lashing into the darkness with her shrill cry.

She staggered to her feet and began to run. No thoughts worked their way into her mind, she just kept moving. Her wild flight led her toward the tree line, away from the gates and escape. For several minutes, she ran with the wind. It rushed beside her, always to her left. Sometimes it whistled almost against her ear and others it sped along a few feet away.

Slowly, she began to feel as if it was guiding her, leading her somewhere deeper into the dark woods. She followed it, too frightened to find a reason to resist its gentle hand. After an endless moment, she spotted a shadowy mound. The breeze wrapped around her, directing her toward the jumbled heap with a little more force than it had been exerting before. Her mind shouted at her, she didn't want to see what the form was – she didn't want to get any closer! But her unseen guide pushed her on, no longer gentle in its efforts. A swath of pale moonlight cut through the forest canopy bathing the shape in its ethereal glow. A body! A cascade of silky black hair splashed over the corpse's face. A ribbon of red flowed down the side of the body's neck glowing dark crimson in the moonlight.

The wind tightened around her. She couldn't fight it. She was like a leaf trapped in the breeze floating wherever it chose to take her. It held her over the corpse, forcing her to stare down at the unfortunate person. A sudden gust spun off from her captor, almost like an arm of the wind's body. It brushed the silky hair out of the person's face.

My face! Her mind swam with a storm of memories rushing back to her. The images were like a flood of the past that drowned her in fear. Before she could reach the surface of understanding, the wind jerked her away. A scream shot from her throat shattering the night's peace.

The world flew by so fast she couldn't tell where the breeze was taking her. A blur of shadows and shapes filled her vision. Time had no meaning, each moment the same as the next. After an eternity of horror an overgrown house appeared in front of her. It rose up like a monolith to fear and pain. The wind didn't pause as she was hauled up over the tumbled balcony, through a shattered window. In the darkness, the last thing she saw was the final moments of her life flashing through her mind.

***

Antonia Sullivan hadn't really known Margaret Green. Since she'd moved into town, she'd only seen Margaret on a few occasions. Listening to the priest's words, she wondered once again why she'd come to the woman's funeral. Just another of life's questions that she would never find the answer to.

She read the engraving on the tombstone and felt her heart wrench at the word 'beloved' cared in the epitaph. A heavy breath of sadness settled across her shoulders. Her eyes were misty with unshed tears. She mourned, but not for the virtual stranger in the beautiful casket. Her sorrow was for her empty heart. There had never been a person in her life that had loved her, who would miss her when she was gone.

Gathered all around her were people who loved Margaret, and they would miss her always. She had already started to doubt the priest's promise of "the glory of heaven." All her life she had heard tales of God's greatness, his mercy and love, yet she couldn't see it. She couldn't feel even a hint of his "never-ending love."

What do you expect? Why would he bother with you when he has billions of others – more important – to watch over? She thought as the priest drew to a close. Antonia looked up from the headstone and locked eyes with a man she hadn't seen in town before. His sharp green eyes were miles away lost to his own thoughts and emotions. From what Antonia had heard about Margaret's grandson, she knew that the man had to be Osmond Green. Though he was swimming in sorrow, Antonia had no trouble seeing that he was handsome. With her imagination, she traced her fingers along the strong slope of his jaw. She continued slowly down the smooth skin of his throat to the broad shoulders that were obvious under his sports jacket. She turned her face up, leaning toward him, her body stretched for a long kiss. There the fantasy crumbled to dust. The loneliness in her chest tightened. She knew that a man like him would never be interested in a plain Jane like herself. As if to prove her beliefs, he turned away from her and leaned over to the woman beside him. Sara Collins was more than beautiful – she was breath taking. Her auburn locks shimmered in the spring sunshine. Her ordinary black dress clung to her curves, hinting at the secrets within. The emotions shining in Oz's eyes as he spoke to Sara told Antonia she was a fool for thinking about him for even a second.

Instead of following the rest of the mourners to the rows of parked cars, she strolled deeper into the cemetery. She wandered from greave to grave, her depression growing with each marker she read. Before long, she began to envy the dead, jealous of their love in life and afterward.

"I wish I were dead," she mumbled to herself.

An icy breeze slipped around her. It sang in her ears sending a tingle of fear down her spine. Slowly, she turned around, her eyes darting from tombstone to tombstone. She no longer felt alone – or safe.

"Wh... who's there?"

The wind brushed against her cheek, a gentle caress. Antonia's heart hammered against her ribcage, her fear pumping on the verge of panic. She stepped back, her heel catching on something hard. Automatically she glanced down to see what she'd stumbled over. A black stone, smooth as glass, stared up at her. It looked like it had cracked off a nearby headstone. The edge was jagged and etched with fine fracture lines. Suddenly, her life felt as fragile as the broken stone, and in danger of being shattered far worse than it had been. How true! The cold wind blasted into her back.

A spike of pure terror slammed into her chest. With an instant reversal of emotion, Antonia forgot all about her wish for death and began praying. She wanted to live, the desire kicking her body into the most basic of instincts – fight or flight. Before she could give it a moment's consideration, she was sprinting away from the dark stone and the icy wind. She ran without direction, her thoughts lost to fright. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a small part of her knew she had to stop, had to try to think.

The wind howled around her cutting the small voice of reason off short. It wrapped around her like a glove of air. She twisted and spun but she couldn't break free of its grip. She panted, her breath coming out as white plumes. She began to shiver in the breeze's grasp.

Fear beat in icy waves through Antonia, chilling her to her very core, several degrees beyond the cold that surrounded her. The wind pushed her on. She tried to run using every ounce of strength she had. For a second it seemed like she'd break free, like she had a chance to escape. The wind hissed in her ear, a cold, cruel laugh. It tightened around her. She could hardly breathe with it buffeting her face. She began to feel lightheaded. A trickle of nausea seeped into her dizzy body.

The wind forced her into the woods. It was dark under the leafy canopy. The temperature around Antonia dropped further and further with the loss of the spring sunshine.

"P... please! Do... don't hurt m... me!" she begged. Her strength dipped with the last of her hope nearly gone.

The wind only howled, a sound full of hate. Antonia summoned the flickering dregs of her strength. The only thought in her mind was escape. Frantic, she coiled her legs, prepared to use whatever she had left for the jump. The muscles launched, her legs unwinding like a giant spring. Her body came completely away from the ground. For an amazing second she was free, rising in the air without the invisible grip. Then her heart plummeted down into her stomach. The wind squeezed forcing the last of the breath out of her lungs. It held her suspended. She just hung there limp as a rag doll.

"P, please!" she moaned.

No, I'm not finished yet! The voice was a harsh whistle of arctic air in her ear. Tears spilled over her cheeks. "Why?" she cried.

Death. Isn't that what you wanted! The voice laughed. Before Antonia could beg, to desperately take back the wish she'd made, the wind hurled her. It threw her with such force she didn't realize what was happening at first.

It was like free falling but instead of the earth rushing up to meet her it was an oak tree twice as wide as a man. Antonia tried to turn away, twisting and spinning to the right, but she wasn't fast enough. A low tree branch smashed into the side of her head. A brilliant blaze of white pain flooded her body. She collapsed to the warm ground. The last thing she knew before her life slipped away was the cruel bark of the breeze's laughter.

***

Oz shot up in bed, the scream frozen in his throat. He'd only been asleep for a little over an hour but the nightmares still attacked. He snapped on the bedside lamp. The darkness leapt back, settling down in crouched pools nearby.

Oz felt as if those shadows watched him, eager for the chance to devour him. He sat completely still, trying to will away the lingering fear. The dream had shaken him more than he could understand. He needed to talk to someone, but he knew that there was no one up at 3:30 in the morning.

He laid back, his eyes squeezed as tight as could be. Though he hoped to go back to sleep, he knew it was going to be a long night, a very long night.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE DINER

The gray light of pre-dawn melted into the bright pinks and reds of the waking day. Sara smiled out her kitchen window. The light crept slowly toward her house. First, its wispy fingers reached over the tall pines and thick oaks at the far edge of her yard. Then it inched its way toward her garden, the golden light glinting off of the pansy's purple faces. The tulips' soft petals seemed to be made of gilt as the sunshine caressed them as well.

Sunrise was one of Sara's favorite times of day. She loved how the world slowly opened its eyes, blinking at the bright colors of the sun-blazed clouds. Pure pleasure coursed through her as everything came to life and began about its morning duties.

"Oh! There's a momma rabbit taking her little one out and about!" As the rabbits hopped off out of sight, Sara thought, and speaking of little ones, it's 'bout time I got mine up. With one more, long look at the new day shining, she smiled and turned toward Katy's room.

Sara opened the door and her grin grew several inches. Katy's blonde locks were a tangled nest half covering her face. Her little arms were wrapped tightly around Madeline. Almost too old to be called a toy, the doll's patchwork face and yarn hair peeked out from under Katy's chin.

"Tra rha ta boom de ay! It's time to get up today!" Sara called out as she gently shook the sleeping girl's foot.

"Mmmm..." Katy moaned and settled deeper into her pillow.

"Rise and shine, Sugarpie!" Sara yanked the covers back.

Slowly, Katy crawled out of bed, her eyes heavy with sleep. Sara ran a hand over the tumbled mass of blonde hair tangled around Katy's shoulders. "What would you like to wear today, Angel?"

"My blue dress," she yawned hugely.

"The one with the flowers on it?" Sara stroked her daughter's back.

Katy nodded, rubbing a small fist at her drowsy eyes.

"Ok, my little Katydid, you go to the bathroom while I get it for you." With a pat to Katy's bottom, Sara sent her on her way.

A few minutes later, she helped Katy into the dress. Sitting on the edge of the small bed, Sara lifted her little girl up on to her lap. "How do you want your hair, a pony tail maybe?" she asked as she brought the brush through the golden tresses.

"Piggy tail!" she bounced with excitement.

"Oh, that's a great choice! Now sit still while I make it look nice."

The rest of the morning went quickly. Katy helped make her bed then she double-checked her homework as Sara asked her to do. Afterward, she chatted away at her mother while they made breakfast.

They were about to prepare Katy's bagged lunch when the phone rang. Katy leapt up from her chair and dashed to answer it. "Hello, Collins residence."

"Why this can't be the correct number, I thought that a little girl lived there?" Oz teased.

"I am a little girl!" She stomped her foot.

"Oh, my mistake. Who would have thought that such a small thing could sound so grown up?" He smiled to himself at the giggles his question caused. "Hey, kiddo can I speak to your momma?"

"Momma! It's a man for you!" She shouted, the receiver still near her mouth.

"Hello," Sara put the phone to her ear and at the sound of Oz's voice on the other end, immediately thought, a man for me, I hope he is.

"Sara, it's me, Oz. I didn't know what time you'd be up so I hope I didn't disturb you."

"No, I'm usually up and about long before now."

"That's good to hear."

Sara noticed the hesitation in his voice. "Is something wrong?"

"Well, do you think we could talk somewhere, face to face? I don't really want to... discuss this over the phone."

"Sure, I was planning on stopping by the diner before I called to see what time you wanted to leave."

"That's perfect. I'll meet you there. What's a good time?"

"Around eight, I have to drop Katy off at school first, so I can head over there after."

"All right, see you then."

"Bye," Dropping the receiver back on the cradle Sara felt her heart do a summersault. He wants to talk! She sighed at her foolishness and shook her head. "Ok, girl, pull yourself together. This doesn't mean anything," she muttered to herself. But even with those words of reason, a silly smile spread across her face.

***

Oz had always loved the feel of Shoppe Street Diner. It was a bright, friendly place, and if the food was anything like he remembered it, it would rival some of his grandmother's cooking. But after sliding into a corner booth, he couldn't appreciate any of it. He was wound tighter than a clock spring, his mind filled with images from his recent nightmare.

It wasn't like any of the ones he'd had before. At first, he'd floated weightless in a dark void. Then in a blinding flash he was yanked back into the cemetery. He shuddered at the memory of what had happened next. The poor woman tormented by an invisible assailant. For the first few seconds Oz couldn't see her attacker either, but slowly a man shaped haze appeared. Oz tried to stop it. He grabbed at its arms, swung blow after blow at the formless head. Yet, nothing seemed to affect it. The worst part was having to watch, unable to do anything, as the mist killed the woman.

"You feelin' all right, hon?" a voice asked at Oz's shoulder, shaking him from his thoughts.

He looked up at the waitress. She had her wheat blonde hair pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head. Her eyes were a sky blue, bright with concern, in a face that carried an extra pound or two. Oz tried to smile and felt his skin stretch with the effort. The waitress smiled back, her cheeks puffing high up on either side of her mouth. The honest good cheer in it went miles toward lifting Oz's spirits.

"Are you ready to order, dear?" she asked and as if by magic she made a notepad and pencil appear.

"I'll have a cup of coffee for now, I'm waiting on someone."

"Ok, be right back." She trotted off to the coffee pot. Oz watched her work, using her practiced movements to keep thoughts of his nightmare at bay.

She returned to his table at the same time the bell over the door chimed. They both looked up to see Sara stroll in. The waitress's already large smile grew another half inch at the sight of her. "Hey dearie, how's the little one?" the waitress asked.

"She's good. How's business been so far today, Barb?" Sara replied nearing Oz's table.

"We've been steady. Andrew said he needed to talk to you about the fryers or some such thing in the kitchen." She rolled her eyes and snorted.

Sara chuckled. "He's being a drama queen again, huh? Okay, I'll talk to him in a little bit. Can you make me a cup of coffee?"

"Sure thing, coming right up."

"Thanks Barb." She slid into the booth across from Oz. A smile spread over her lips at the surprise she saw in his eyes.

"You run the diner?" He asked.

"And own it, yes. Does that surprise you?"

"A little, but I don't know why. You always had an interest in this place." He shook his head, a small smile on his face.

"Well, it was actually Jake's idea..." The color drained from her face. She saw the quick white-hot flash in Oz's eyes at the mention of the man she'd married instead of him.

Before she could think of anything to say, Oz spoke. "It's all right. I couldn't and didn't expect you to stay single." Though I'd wished that you'd loved me enough to pine away for me, he thought.

Taking his hint to let the past lie, she moved on. "So, you said you wanted to talk."

A sudden wave of doubt crashed over him. He wasn't sure if he should tell her about his dream after all. She said she wants to be my friend, and I've already told her way more than anyone else about this stuff. He tried to convince himself, but couldn't fight off the doubt. Hesitating, he decided he needed a second to put himself back on an even keel. "Have you eaten? I'm starved. We can order breakfast if you want."

"I had a muffin before I took Katy to school. Oz, what's wrong? Something is bothering you." She leaned forward and laid her hands on top of his. "You can tell me. I'm here for you."

But for how long? Oz shrugged off the mental snide and took a deep breath. "I'm not sure if going to the hospital where my father was committed is a good idea."

"Ok, why?" She gave his hands a gentle squeeze. Oz's skin grew warm from the contact. Looking into the dark wells of her eyes caused a tendril of longing to snake up from his gut. His mind flashed with the memory of his nightmare, the terror in the woman's eyes, the horror of her death. An oily film coated the lining of his stomach, crushing the desire that had just started to bud.

"Oz, what is it? What's wrong?" Sara leaned closer, lifting one of her hands up to press against his cheek with her concern.

He gave into the need to tell someone, and to the need for her offer of friendship, despite the fact that he wasn't sure he could trust it. "I had a nightmare last night."

"Like the ones you were having before?"

He shook his head.

"I didn't think so. Why don't you tell me about it? It might help to get it off your chest."

The concern, the brilliant light of compassion in her gaze had Oz remembering the time when she was his world, his everything. That depth of love and that level of loss hurt. He thought that his heart had been broken as far as it could be, but looking at her now he felt another piece crack.

Sara saw it in his eyes. The green darkened and the shutters began to lower, began to block her off from him. Tears scratched the backs of her eyes. She squeezed his hand. It stiffened in her grip. Her heart wrenched nearly forcing the tears to spill. She cupped his cheek and whispered. "Don't, please."

Another shard cracked in Oz's chest. He knew what she was asking, but how could he handle the pain? He pulled back. It was too much; he didn't think his heart was strong enough.

"Oz," Sara slid out of the booth, not letting his hand go.

"I've gotta go." His voice was a dry croak to his own ears.

He moved to leave. "Oz, please!" She leaned closer, both her hands flying up to frame his face. Before either of them knew what was happening, her lips brushed against his. A spark snapped.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

OPENING

All heat! So much heat! Oz couldn't think. That soft touch, the sweet, dark taste of the kiss stabbed arousal straight into his belly. Lilies in Spring, her perfume, enveloped him. Her hands circled around his neck, closing him in. He was drowning in a sea of Sara and saw no reason to ever breathe again.

He didn't know whose tongue moved first, but he did know the slow, warm battle had begun. What am I doing? The question flew through his mind like a crippled bird, down before it could breach the air of desire.

His fingers slid to cup the nape of Sara's neck, kneading the smooth skin in gentle circles. She moaned, faint as a summer breeze. Oz drank it in like wine. The fire inside of him burned so high he knew that he would be nothing but a charred cinder before long. He didn't care.

With the last ounce of reason she had left, Sara forced herself to pull away. For several seconds they sat, eyes locked, panting for breath. Neither one was able to make the next move.

Oz was stunned. His mind whirled on an endless reel. Raw with unspent arousal, his nerves felt like exposed wires. While he drew himself back together, Sara sank back down into the booth.

"So, what was your nightmare about?" She wanted to keep him off balance. She knew if she left him guessing, she had a better chance of getting into his heart again.

He gaped at her. It was too perfect! She had to fight to hide the smile spreading across her face. "Wha, what just happened?" He stammered.

"I asked you about your nightmare." She swallowed the bubble of laughter that rose to the back of her throat.

"No, not that! Before!" The exasperation in his voice tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"Oh, I call that a kiss. You do remember what a kiss is, don't you?"

Oz couldn't help it, the look of complete innocence, the mocking humor in her voice made him laugh. Before he could recover, she asked again, "So, what was the nightmare about?"

He didn't think. His mouth opened and the words tumbled out. When he finished, Sara gave a heavy sigh as she squeezed his hand.

"So?" he asked, suddenly afraid of her reaction.

"I think you should go to the hospital where your father was committed. Take some time and think about it first, maybe call up there and try to talk to the doctor that treated him, if he's still around."

"Okay," he shrugged his shoulder. "Maybe it's worth a shot – nothing else is working so far."

"Then that's that." She nodded as if everything was settled to her liking. Then she folded her hands on the tabletop and asked, "Now, are you still hungry? I could go for one of Andrew's Southwestern omelets. He makes the best."

"Sure, an omelet sounds good to me." He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, more than a little shell-shocked.

"All right, I'll go place the order and see what problem he was having with the fryer. Be right back."

She was only gone for a few minutes. The time gave Oz a chance to enjoy the feel of the diner. The tiles were in a blue and white checkerboard. The counter and tables were imitation marble the same color as the floor. Dark navy swivel stools with low curved backs lined the front of the counter.

A handful of people had managed to work their way in without Oz noticing them. Most were mill workers grabbing a bite before heading to work. But one couple was a pair of older ladies. They kept glancing over at his table, the looks half veiled behind menus and folded hands. If memory served him well, the two were Elise Maddick and Gertrude Kiply. Elise was cousin to Sara's mom and Gerty was her best friend. The thought of the women made him cringe. Rumors would be flying through town before noon.

When Oz caught eyes with Elise, he gave her his most charming smile and a curt nod. It had her blushing and smiling back. That should keep her from staring at me for a whole two minutes, he mentally laughed.

Sara stepped out of the kitchen to be greeted by Oz's crooked grin. Her heart stopped in her chest. The light in his deep green eyes had butterflies fluttering in her stomach. As she neared the table, Oz turned his smile up a notch and filled Sara's throat with the butterflies wildly trying to escape.

In a blink the look of good cheer disappeared from his face. He leaned toward her and asked, "Is something wrong? You look flushed."

Swallowing fast, she fanned her face dramatically. "Oh, I'm fine. It just gets a little hot in the kitchen."

"Isn't there a saying about the heat in the kitchens?" Oz chuckled.

Sara laughed; more than relieved he changed the subject. "Yeah, I think I heard something about it once or twice."

Smiling wide again, Oz said, "So, did you figure out what to do about Andrew's problem?"

She nodded. "Yeah, he's going to have to make do with just the second fryer until the repair man can come fix the other."

From there, they slipped into easy conversation. They talked about the things that had happened in town since he'd been gone. Who was still alive, who was doing what and where, and who had stuck around instead of moving off.

When Oz finally left, he realized that Sara had managed to turn their meeting into something closer to a date. He wasn't sure how he felt about that yet. He decided he would make sure they stayed away from each other for a couple of days to give himself time to think about everything. And considering how much Doug still needed help out on the farm, and her business, he figured it wouldn't be that hard to keep his distance.

***

"So, what's this I hear about you and Oz having breakfast?" Rachel asked as soon as she cornered Sara in the Diner that afternoon.

"Oh, hello to you, too," Sara smiled.

"Don't give me that, tell me what happened!" She leaned over the counter, her eyes shining with interest, very hungry interest.

"What? Hasn't the rumor mill already gotten around?" Sara mocked and began to wipe down the countertop.

Rachel grabbed the taller woman's shoulders and shook her. In a growl, she demanded, "Details! Girl, tell me the details!"

Sara laughed. It bubbled up, filled with all the joy she felt. "I kissed him."

"Don't you dare stop! Spill it!" Rachel shook Sara again.

"It was amazing. I'd forgotten how great his lips are!" She leaned toward Rachel. Her voice dropped in a conspiratorial whisper, she continued. "You know what the best part is?" She paused to draw out her friend's suspense. "He was speechless after." Both women laughed. Sara tried to hide her giggles and felt like she'd slipped back into her schoolgirl days.

"So, what happened then?" Rachel asked when she'd finally brought her mirth under control.

"We had breakfast and talked for over an hour."

"That's great!"

Sara's smile sagged. "I don't know what to do now. I know he's reluctant to get back together with me, and I don't want to push him too far too fast. But I can't wait to see him again!"

Rachel wrapped her arms around her friend. "Then I've got great news for you. Paul managed to talk Oz into coming over to our place for dinner. Wouldn't it be nice if you and Katy just happened to be guests also?" A sly smile spread across her lips.

Sara's eyes grew large, sparkling with light. "An ambush? Rache, I love it! Thank you! Thank you!" She squeezed Rachel tight.

"My pleasure. I think you should come over around 6:30. Oz'll be there at 7:00."

"Oh, I'll be there."

***

"Paw, are you sure? There's still a lot to do today. I can tell Paul and Rachel that I need to reschedule." Oz asked as Doug politely but firmly ushered him out the front door.

"Nonsense! There's no reason for you to miss a chance to spend some time with an old friend. Anyway, I imagine you're as tired of my cooking as I am. So why not go have a nice meal with friends?"

"But what about you?" Oz turned back on the square slab porch to look his grandfather in the eye. There was a glint in them that Oz hadn't seen for days. That spark gave him hope. He'd been so worried that Doug would wallow in the loss of Margaret and stop trying to live.

"Don't you concern yourself 'bout me. Frank and Ed are taking me out. Said it was time that I started hanging around the card table again. I figure you and me both are gonna have a high ol' time tonight. Now, get! I've gotta get ready to skin the shirts off of a couple ol' boys!" His lips spread into an ear to ear grin.

Oz hugged his grandfather. "Ok, Paw, I'm going. Now don't beat the guys too bad, you hear?"

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of beatin' 'em too awful bad. I'll let 'em keep their shorts at least." They both laughed.

"See you later." Oz gave Doug's shoulder a squeeze.

"Later," He patted his grandson's back then pushed Oz toward his truck. "Now get on with you."

"Okay, okay, I'm going." Oz chuckled.

He was in good spirits through the entire drive. On the way, he stopped by the Liquor Mart to pick up a bottle of wine. Out of impulse, he also made a stop at the Flower Shoppe.

"Hey, if it ain't the Green boy. I was wondering if you'd be stoppin' by." Richard Crisp leaned over his counter. He had shaggy brown hair streaked with gray. His flannel shirt draped over his bony wire frame like a tarp.

"You didn't think I would come to town and not at least drop by once while I'm here, did you?"

"Who knows? You could've forgotten about dear old Mr. Crisp."

"Forgotten about you! Impossible!"

Chuckling, Mr. Crisp asked, "What can I do ya for?"

"I'd like a bouquet."

His smile deepened. "I've got just what you need." His knees creaked as he squatted down behind the counter. After a few seconds, he came up grunting. "Here ya go." He handed Oz a dozen gold tulips.

Paying, Oz said, "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Tell me how she likes 'em." He winked.

Oz held his smile and left. He knew what Mr. Crisp was thinking. Glancing down at the flowers in his passenger seat, he sighed. Apparently, Mr. Crisp had heard about Oz's breakfast date with Sara and assumed he'd be coming by to pick up flowers for her, just like he did when they'd been together. The florist had also gone as far as preparing the bouquet some time before Oz stopped by. I guess nothing has slowed down the rumor mill. Oz gave a mental shrug.

As he pulled into Paul's driveway, he noticed a green mini-van parked beside a pick-up that was more rust than truck. Knocking on the door, he continued to look back at the ancient vehicle. When the door opened, he spoke over his shoulder. "You still have that old thing. I would've thought it would be fallen to dust by now."

"I know what you mean. I've asked him about it a dozen times or better myself." Sara replied.

Oz's head snapped around at the sound of her voice, surprise flooding his brain.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

PROGRESS

Sara felt her heart stutter in her chest. She couldn't believe how stupid she had been to walk away from Oz. She loved him beyond reason. Fighting for balance, she said, "All Paul ever says is, 'She's a classic! How can you speak of her that way?'"

Oz laughed. Nervous, his mouth had gone dust dry. He swallowed and worked his tongue against his palate. "I'm surprised to see you here. Paul didn't mention that you'd be joining us." He was glad that his voice sounded almost normal.

"I guess he forgot." She shrugged her shoulders, the thin straps of her blouse pulling the material up. Oz watched as it cascaded back down over the swell of her breasts.

He jerked and brought the bouquet up in front of him at the sudden tightening of his gut. "Well, I guess these are for you then. I should've known they weren't for Rache, you were the one who always loved tulips."

"Oh, um, thank you." She took the flowers. Without a thought, she buried her face in them, breathing deep their airy aroma.

An awkward moment of silence fell between them. Oz drummed his fingers against the wine bottle, not sure what to do next. His nervousness reminded Sara of the first time they went out. The image of that boy fidgeting under her father's glaring stare brought a smile to her lips.

"Well, you might as well come in, there's no reason to just stand out here on the porch." She turned and swept her free hand toward the living room.

"Ok, yeah." He swallowed again. Sara had only moved far enough to the side for Oz to squeeze by. He could feel the heat off her body barely a breath away. An arrow of longing shot through him. His fingers tingled, wishing to caress, to stroke and hold her smooth skin.

"Hey Oz, I'm glad you could make it." Paul called out from the breezeway into the kitchen.

"Same here," Sara agreed as she closed the door behind them.

Trying to catch his breath, Oz lifted the bottle of wine up into view and gave Paul a mischievous grin. "Yeah, you would be glad to see anyone carrying this."

Paul laughed. "Boy, you know me better than I thought! Come on in here and pour us a glass. You can tell me what you think of this new recipe I'm trying out."

"Still experiment, huh? I guess it's a good thing I brought an extra-large bottle of Tums with me." He chuckled and tried to put a little more distance between Sara and himself.

"Hardy har har! Real funny, buddy! Just get your butt in here and start pouring that wine before I make you wear it!"

"You got it, boss." The easy way they had slipped back into old routines shook off some of Oz's anxiety. But he couldn't stop the tightening of his body every time he looked at Sara. His eyes either drifted to her rosebud lips, reminding him of the unbelievable kiss they had shared that morning, or down to the sleek blouse and skirt she was wearing. He had to fight to keep from imaging what she had on underneath the clingy material.

"The glasses are up in that cupboard to your right." Paul's voice snapped Oz out of his reverie.

He turned his back towards Sara and began to pour their drinks. "So, what is your experiment this time?"

"Nothing too wild for you, it's this modified Chinese recipe, Cashew Chicken, I think you'll love it." He took the glass Oz offered him and leaned back against the counter.

Handing Sara a glass of wine, Oz agreed. "Sounds good."

With a quick glance, he took in the room. There were pots, pans, and other utensils hanging above a freestanding counter in the middle of the room. A griddle was made into the surface of the counter next to a food preparation block. Two tan stools stood next to the counter, their plush green cushions inviting anyone to pull up and take a seat. The cabinets and drawers were all the same light brown as the stools. The counter tops were dark gray granite and the floor tiles were checkered a classic black and white.

Oz took a sip of his wine and said, "This is a nice house you have here."

"Thanks, not that I can take much credit the décor. Rache picked everything out. I'm not much on interior design."

"Speaking of Rachel, where is she?" Oz asked.

"She took Katy to go get desert. She claimed that Katy would know the best thing to get. Personally, I think she just wanted to steal her for a little while." Sara chuckled. Waving her hand, she went on, "They'll be back in a few minutes."

Oz nodded and took another sip of his wine. He tried not to look into her eyes. The glimmer that twinkled in those dark pools pulled at him too much. It was a struggle not to let their subtle undertow drag him down.

"So, what have you been doing out in the big city?" Paul asked.

Oz silently thanked him for the break from Sara's gaze. "Well, after college I worked for a year as the foreman for a big business architect. I couldn't stand the lack of style and the boss' disregard to safety. So, I started my own company and now almost three years later, Green Architectural Design is in high demand. I even have a handful of projects going across the nation and two international deals underway."

"Ah, impressive! Good on you!" Paul clapped him on the shoulder.

"Always knew you'd do good," Sara said and raised her glass in salute.

Oz felt his cheeks flush at the glow of pride on Sara's face. "Thank you." He took a large gulp of his drink, then directed the conversation back to them. "So, when did you finally trick Rachel into marrying you?"

"He didn't have to trick me, he had to bribe me," Rachel claimed as she strolled into the room.

Oz quickly poured her some wine. He gave her cheek a kiss and said, "I knew that he'd have to do something drastic to convince you to take him on."

"Well, what choice did I have? I made the mistake of falling in love with the big goof." She wrapped her free hand around Paul's waist.

Taking the lull in the conversation for her chance at attention, Katy lifted the bag she was carrying up and called, "Momma, Momma! Guess what I picked for desert!"

Bending down to her daughter, Sara said, "I don't know! What could it be?"

"Strawberry smallcake!"

Oz tried to hide his laugh in his drink. He could hear one in Sara's voice as she said, "Strawberry smallcake! That sounds perfect!"

Katy beamed from ear to ear. She handed her mom the bag and turned toward Oz. "Hello mister." She dipped a graceful curtsey.

"Well, hello mademoiselle." Oz bowed deep, his tone completely serious.

Katy giggled.

He winked at her. "So, when are we gonna eat so this little miss can have her desert?" Oz asked patting Katy's shoulder.

"Go take your seats and I'll bring it out in a second," Paul replied.

***

"Did you see him with Katy? He was great!" Sara said as she strapped her sleeping daughter into the mini-van.

Smiling at her friend's back, Rachel said, "Yeah, he'd make a good father."

Sara whirled around and sank to the floor of the van. "How could've I been so stupid! I'm amazed he doesn't hate my guts!"

"Honey, we all do stupid things when we're young. Shoot, as long as we're alive we'll continue to do stupid things. That's life. You just have to try to do your best and make from it what you can." Rachel slid in beside Sara and leaned her head against her best friend's temple.

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing? I feel bad because he's vulnerable right now."

"Babe, you have to take advantage of whatever life gives you. There's no tellin' if the chance will come along again." Bumping Sara with her elbow, she added. "Anyway, as the old sayin' goes 'all's fair in love and war.'"

Sara breathed a heavy sigh. Her arm wrapped around Rachel as she said, "I guess you're right. Well, I best get my little monkey home and in bed. Thanks for the shoulder."

"Hey, what're friends for? You take it easy, hon. Good-night."

"You too," She hugged Rachel, and then watched her walk back to the house.

Oz stepped outside the same time Rachel reached the porch. He kissed her cheek and spoke to her. Sara couldn't hear what he said, but figured it was something like, thanks for having me over.

Sara started to move towards the front of her van when Oz trotted over to her.

"Sara," There was something in his voice that pulled at her heart. Her blood began to hammer thickly through her veins.

"Yes?"

He stood a couple feet from her shifting his weight from side to side. He opened his mouth twice only to snap it shut again. With a nervous smile, he clenched his hands into tight fists and spoke. "Um, I had a nice evening."

"Me too,"

He scuffed the toe of his shoe into the dirt, kicking up small puffs of dust. Sara grinned. He was so adorable. "Oz, would you like to have breakfast tomorrow?"

The only sign that he was excited by the question was the slight widening of his eyes. "Sure, I'd like that."

"Well, I guess I'll see you then, good-night." Her body seemed to have a mind of its own. Her hand reached out, her fingers stroked his cheek. Her skin tingled from the faint scrape of beard stubble.

It was obvious that she wasn't the only one with a body running on its own. Oz stepped closer, his hands sliding around her waist. They locked behind her back. She didn't know whose lips brushed whose first. All she knew was the heat, the wonderful, dizzying heat. The world faded. The sounds of the night died under the thunderous pounding of her heart. It felt like an arc of lightning danced through her body.

When they finally pulled apart, Oz pressed his forehead to hers and stared into her eyes as he caught his breath. "I... should... go. You need... to put... your little one to bed. See you tomorrow."

Sara nodded. "Tomorrow,"

After another few seconds of looking into her eyes, he turned toward his truck. Sara touched her swollen lips, still able to feel the warmth of Oz's kiss. She climbed into the driver's seat floating two feet in the air.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

NIGHTMARES

Oz listened to the stampeding beat of his heart, the only sound in the small chapel. For some reason the silence terrified him more than the sight of his dead family members. He stood by the altar, his father beside him, a twisted reflection of himself.

He didn't try to speak to Trevor. He knew what the dead man would say and he wanted to keep the words at bay as long as he could. The music started, the heavy notes chilled Oz to his core. Slowly, moving like someone thirty years his senior, he turned toward the entrance.

He struggled to breathe as a fist of dread squeezed his lungs. There she was, her black brown eyes aglow with unshed tears. Sara walked toward him, her stride graceful even in the stuttered steps of the wedding march. Oz's heart lurched in his chest. Katy skipped along behind Sara, holding the train to her mother's blue white gown.

No! Please God! No! he screamed in his mind.

"You're taking too long, Boy! You've work to do!" Trevor spoke, his voice a hiss over Oz's shoulder.

Oz didn't turn. He wasn't going to let his father's words distract him. Through will alone he tried to keep Sara and Katy exactly like they were. For several seconds it seemed to work. They were still as beautiful and alive as when they first walked in.

A shadow passed over Sara's face. Her bright eyes dulled, her skin grayed in that sudden gloom. Oz watched in horror as the life faded from her leaving nothing but an animated corpse. Sara's beautiful skin was now a cracked, dry patch of leather. Her dress looked more like a death shroud instead of the symbol of new life it was supposed to be. Oz couldn't look at Katy. Fear of what had happened to her angel face wouldn't let him look.

"Boy-o, you haven't even started yet. You have a lot to do!" rattled Trevor, his voice like the cold call of the grave.

"Damn you, what am I supposed to do?" Oz demanded, clutching the mildewed lapels of his father's sports coat.

"I've told you already! If you're not going to listen to me maybe you will her!" An insane burst of laughter exploded in Oz's face. Trevor's rotted bone hand shot out after that dead cackle point toward Sara.

Oz locked eyes with the hollow black holes where her beautiful eyes once were. With a strange click and clack, like large stones tumbling together in a bag, Sara spoke. "Find your daddy's secret, his secret! Find, find his secret!"

***

Oz shot up in bed drenched in a fine layer of sweat. He was more awake than if he had drunk an entire pot of black coffee. The dream was different, more frightening than before. The thought of Sara dying filled him with dread, but the threat to little Katy more than tore him up inside. It left him empty except for a white-hot raging inferno of fear.

As with anytime fear rose inside him, Oz took action. It was all he could do to keep from succumbing to madness and despair.

He was out of bed in a leaping thrust. On silent feet, he trotted to the bathroom to shower. Minutes later, clean and shaved, he flipped open his lap top, Nick Matthews had sent it over with his cell phone and clothes. Quickly, he started going over his work emails.

The Wilmont and Beck account was ahead of schedule. The Blueridge resort had a flooding emergency that Nick had taken care of. Oz read about all of this, signed off on several expenses and checked the payroll all in little less than an hour.

His nervous energy hadn't abated. He decided he'd maybe take a jog around the field. Slipping down the stairs, he felt the quiet surround him. It gave him comfort. The peaceful silence lifted a small amount of the fear he was carrying.

Outside the air was cool and crisp. Oz could smell the dew settling on the grass. The sky was a soft purple-black blanket of stars. Each of those pinpricks of light began to wink out one by one as the gray haze of pre-dawn gave way to the bright colors of the waking sun. Oz smiled. It felt good to take in something so simple and so beautiful as sunrise. A fiery orange dome crested the distant tree line. Oz took it as his signal to start moving.

It didn't take long before he found his rhythm. His pace a ground eating trot; he reached the far end of the field in a matter of minutes. On a spontaneous whim, he decided he wanted to add a little more scenery to his workout and continued to jog into the woods. The early morning light had yet to brighten the forest. A green gray darkness, almost too thick to see through, engulfed Oz a few seconds after ducking into the trees.

At first, he wasn't worried. He could see enough of the ground to follow the path. Then slowly the forest floor disappeared beneath the growing darkness. Oz stopped dead in his tracks. He knew that if he kept moving he would not only risk injury, but also possibly get himself lost.

He put his right toe behind his left heel and preformed an about face. According to his reasoning, the path was pretty much straight, and it would only take him a few steps to return to the lighter part of the forest. Several branches brushed against him. Wet from the morning dew, their cold touch brought images from his nightmare crashing through his mind. The tree limbs were transformed, no longer innocent conveyors of light catching leaves, now the skeletal clutches of the undead.

Fear spiked like a spear into Oz's chest. He doubled his pace. The darkness wasn't lifting! It grew steadily thicker with each step he took. A branch settled on his shoulder tugging at his shirt. He reached up to pull it free. It felt strange in his hand, harder and larger than a branch should be. It writhed and tightened on his shirt. Oz turned slowly, afraid of what he'd see behind him.

A half melted face stared back at him. Its eyes deteriorated into yellow white pools oozing down the person's leathery cheeks like tears of gore. Oz screamed. Panic flooded his veins. He tore away from the skeletal grasp and ran as fast as he could.

Several minutes passed before his mind could regain control of his fear. He stopped and bent over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath. The darkness was heavy. It surrounded him with almost tangible weight.

"This isn't real, it's just a hallucination," he muttered, trying to will the nightmare away.

"Boy-o, you can't run! You can't escape your duty!" Trevor's gravely dead rasp startled Oz.

He spun around and looked at the decomposed remains of his father. The hammering spikes of fear that pounded through his veins sparked the dry kindling of his anger. Enraged by the fear, by the constant threat to his sanity, Oz grabbed the walking corpse. He shook it, as he demanded, "What the hell do you want from me!"

"You have work to do, Son." Trevor's tone was soft. A strange compassion filled his death rattle voice.

"What are you talking about?" Oz nearly screamed.

"I've already told you! Sara gave you the damn answer! Just find my secret, boy!" Oz's father faded, drifting away like a fine mist. "Find my secret!" And then the echo of his voice vanished.

Oz was back at the edge of the tree line, his grandfather's house in view. A cold shiver ran down his spine, leaving him chilled to the bone. He knew where his father's secret was. Sara had told him without him ever realizing it. He headed back to the house. He had to get cleaned up before he talked to Sara.

***

Oz's stomach was a riot of nerves as he listened to the phone ring. He didn't know what to say, he couldn't believe he was making the call in the first place. He shouldn't be involving Sara in his problems. She has a child and a life of her own. How can I drag her into my insanity?

Before he could talk himself into hanging up, Sara's voice floated across the line. "Hello?"

"Ah, hello, Sara. Um, it's Oz." He ground his teeth at how nervous he sounded.

Her voice took on a strange quality, close to contained excitement. "Oh, hey Oz! What's up?"

"Um, I, ah..." he stalled out. The words were lodged in his throat refusing to be voiced.

"We're still having breakfast, aren't we?" She almost sounded strained, worry seeming to mix with her words.

"Um, that's not why I called."

Oz almost could swear he heard her sigh as she said, "Oh, then what's bothering you?"

"I need to go to the hospital where my father was committed!" he blurted out.

"That's great! I think it would relieve your worries if you talked to his doctors."

"Well, um, I need help." His throat felt dust dry.

"With what?"

"I, ah, don't know if I can do it, not alone." His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Hey, that's okay. I'll go with you. Why don't we meet at the diner in about, oh say, twenty minutes? Then we can talk, all right?" She asked.

"Yeah, I'd like that." He breathed a sigh of thanks. He couldn't tell her all that was on his mind over the phone. He needed to see the spark of understanding in her eyes.

"Okay, see you then." Oz could hear the smile in her voice.

"Yeah, see you." He hung up and tried to take several deep breaths. Worry that he was about to make one of the biggest mistakes in his life haunted his thoughts.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

SECRETS

A small bubble of disappointment burst inside of Sara. Oz wasn't waiting for her in the diner like she'd expected. She figured he was just running a little late, but that rational explanation still didn't soothe her. Taking a seat at the counter, she asked Barbara, "How's business?"

"Same as every Thursday, steady, but a little on the slow side." She handed Sara a steaming cup of coffee.

Sara took a sip of the dark liquid caffeine and said, "Ah! I needed that! Katy was in a mood today. She whined and moaned all morning!"

"She not feelin' well?" Barbara wiped down several mugs in a steady rhythm.

"No, I think she had another of those nights. I was worried before when she first started having these nightmares about Jake, but they happen so rarely now that I think it was just her way of coping with his death."

"Oh, yes, dear. The poor girl was barely three when it happened," Barbara agreed and put away another cup.

Sipping her coffee, Sara nodded.

"Oh, would you look at this? Doc Maryland left his newspaper and glasses again," Barbara said as she came around the counter. Sara glanced to the table the waitress was heading toward.

"That man would forget his head if it wasn't attached," Sara said.

"I wouldn't be too surprised if he hadn't left that behind a time or two," The waitress scoffed. "Well, I better set 'em down over here or someone might take off with 'em." She sat the articles on the counter beside Sara.

WOMAN FOUND DEAD IN CEMETARY CREEK

The headline jumped out at Sara. A cold chill seeped into her body as she skimmed the story. She shook her head. It can't be, it just can't! Oz couldn't have dreamt of this! How is this possible? She asked herself.

The bell over the door rang, startling her. She spun around and locked eyes with Oz. Though he was smiling, there was something haunted in those green depths. The bright expression on his face crumbled into dust when he spotted the worry in Sara's gaze. Snatching the paper up, the doctor's glasses tumbling off of it with a clatter, she rushed over to him.

She grabbed his arm and dragged him towards her closet-like office in the rear of the diner. In the back of her mind, she knew how her actions looked to the few patrons who had seen her, but now she couldn't bring herself to care. If they wanted to spread rumors and idle gossip let 'em. It didn't matter what she did or didn't do anyway, they would spread whatever tales they wanted.

"Have you seen this?" She flipped the paper up, inches away from smacking Oz's nose with it.

"No, I've never been much of a..." He yanked the paper from Sara. His sharp green eyes narrowed, the color darkening. Sara's heart began to slam blow after blow of longing throughout her body. Fighting her reaction to the sexy tint of his gaze, she paced her office. One. Two. Three. Turn. One. Two. Three. She counted her steps using the simple pattern to soothe her nerves.

"The body of Antonia Sullivan was found early this morning in the local cemetery. According to Sheriff Neman, Miss Sullivan had been dead for a few days. He would not go into the details on the cause of her death other than stating that the victim had received a severe blow to the head..." Oz's voice faded. Images from his nightmare a couple of days ago blasted through his mind. His legs felt weak. He crumbled into one of the only chairs in Sara's office.

"Sara, I..."

The light was gone from his eyes. Despair drew the life from his face. Sara sank to her knees beside him. Her hands clutched his, as she said, "No, Oz! It's not your fault. I don't know what's going on, but I know without a doubt you had nothing to do with this poor woman's death!"

Oz just shook his head. He couldn't think, not after everything he'd already been through that day. It was too much.

An icy chill pumped through Sara. She didn't know what to do. The sight of the man she loved crushed by fear nearly broke her heart in two.

Desperate, she reached out and cupped his face between her palms. "Look at me!" she pleaded. Slowly his eyes drifted towards her. "That's better! Now, listen to me. It was just a dream, nothing more. It doesn't matter that it was about that woman's death."

"It doesn't?" His voice was flat, a nearly dead tone. "I had something happen to me today. I woke from another nightmare only to walk into one in the real world." His words gathered strength. The need he always had to face whatever frightened him forced him on. He took a deep breath and told Sara everything that he had seen that morning.

"That's why I think I have to go to the hospital where my father was committed. I understand if you don't want to go." If you think I'm completely nuts, he silently added.

For several seconds his words hung in the air, heavy with wary hope. Sara squeezed his hand. "If you need me, I'll go with you."

"Thank you," he drew her close and hugged her tight to his chest.

"You're welcome," she replied, holding onto him just as tight and – maybe – a little longer than needed. It felt so good to be in his arms that she never wanted to leave.

Fighting a similar reluctance, Oz let go and asked, "When can you be ready to go?"

She chuckled, saying, "Now's good."

***

The empty echo of their footfalls chilled Oz to the core. The hospital corridor was so familiar, but he knew he'd never been inside the building before in his life. His gut slowly twisted into knots of fear and dread.

The doctor stopped in front of one of the plain white doors lining the hall. He ran a hand through his thin gray hair. Oz tried to hide a shiver as he read the room number, 248. The overhead fluorescents flickered, sputtering light in an unnerving strobe pattern. Oz's mind flashed back several days to a nightmare he'd had at the time. The doctor disappeared and so did the comforting presence of Sara at his side. He was completely alone, staring at the door. Fear tightened inside him. The door opened inward, its hinges gave off a slow, faint moan.

A sound almost like the swaying of a rocking chair slipped out of the room. Oz closed his eyes. Creeeak-ahh! Creeeak-ahh! He knew what the noise was and he didn't want to face that sight again. My father hung himself here.

"Yes, Mr. Green, your father did hang himself in this room. I wasn't aware that you knew about it," the doctor said.

Oz's eyes shot open with the realization that he had spoken his thoughts out loud.

Sara squeezed his hand and stroked his arm. He looked down into her dark eyes. The warmth that glowed in them soothed his ragged nerves.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Mr. Green? All your father's possessions were kept in storage, and if they weren't sent to your family after his death, then I'm afraid they've been lost. It was nearly thirty years ago."

"I understand, but I'd still like to see where..." he trailed off with a nod at the room.

"All right," the doctor said waving an arm toward the open door.

Oz hesitated a moment. He was afraid that his father might be in the room, still dangling from a tattered sheet-braided rope. He took a deep breath and hoped that whatever he encountered beyond the door wouldn't cause him to give the doctor any reason to doubt his sanity.

Empty. There was nothing in the room but a bed and a wire-mesh window. Yet, Oz was no more comforted by the lack of apparition than he would have been if he'd had to confront his dead father. Something about the sterile white walls and metal covered window turned his spine into ice. The idea of it being his fate hovered in the back of his mind like a poison gas cloud of fear.

"Doctor Watts, how did my father manage to commit suicide? Aren't there precautions for such things?" He stepped to the center of the room, drawn near the spot his father had died.

"Yes, there are, but they're not perfect and this was three decades ago." He removed his glasses and began to clean them as he continued, "I was just an intern here when your father, um, passed. I spoke with him many times and I must tell you his suicide came as a complete shock. It's true that he was very sick, but on his more lucid days, he spoke of how he wanted to get better and leave the hospital so he could be with his son and wife. He seemed to have such a will to live. But with people in his condition, you never know what to expect." The older man sound deeply bothered by the memory.

"I, I think I understand." Oz took a second before he asked his next question. "Doctor, what exactly did my father suffer from?"

"Paranoid schizophrenia. In simple terms, he had extreme delusions. Claimed that the dead spoke to him, told him to do things." Oz's heart lurched in his chest. He was so stunned by the doctor's words that he almost didn't hear what the older man said next.

"His case was very strange. Unlike most paranoid schizophrenics, your father showed no signs of paranoia toward real people, just his delusions."

Terrified that he was listening to a prediction of his own fate, Oz was gripped with the need to learn more. "What did he tell you about his delusions?"

"Well, he rarely spoke to anyone about them after we'd managed to calm him and get him under control. He did say that he was writing a book a few times. Said it used to be his journal, but since it had been returned to him, he only referred to it as his book." He ran a chubby hand through his fringe of gray hair.

"Dr. Watts telephone line three, Dr. Watts telephone line three." The overhead speaker seemed to blare in the sudden silence that had fallen between them.

The doctor cleared his throat. "Um, I have to take this, ah, it shouldn't take long."

"No problem, doctor, we understand." Oz said, his voice more controlled than he would have thought possible.

"Be back in a minute." He abruptly turned on his heel and headed out of the room.

Oz stood by the window, his spirits sinking. The doctor had spelled it all out to him. I'm losing my mind, just like my father had.

When his despair nearly swallowed him whole, Sara slid her arms around his waist. Resting her cheek on his shoulder, she said, "I know it sounds bad, but I think there is something we're overlooking. Maybe when the doctor returns we can ask him some questions about what's been happening to you. I believe deep in my soul that you aren't sick like your father was."

The warmth of her body pressed against his, the confidence of her words, gave his heart a boost. He agreed with here, there was still hope and that's all anyone ever needs.

He looked down into her face. The love he felt swelling inside his chest, was both soothing and frightening. He opened his mouth to speak when the world shifted.

The shadows danced around him, people slipped out of them and vanished back into them like smoke on the wind. The light inside the room changed, brightening and darkening as if a sea of patchy clouds crossed in front of the sun.

Oz trapped his spinning head between his hands. His eyes closed, he took several deep breaths then slowly peaked out at the world.

Sara was gone. In her place sat a man looking out the window. Though dressed in a pajama like outfit and his dark blonde hair lank with sweat, Oz could tell that the man was his father. Oz didn't know what to do, what to say, or if there was anything to do or say. After several tense seconds of silence, Trevor took the matter out of Oz's hands. He turned toward his son, a strange grin on his face. "Well, it's about time you showed up. I've been waitin'."

"I don't understand." Oz shook his head trying to rid himself of the vision in front of him.

"What's there to understand? You were supposed to look for my secret a long time ago. I guess the old adage still holds true, better late than never." Trevor laughed, the sound more dead than the man himself.

"What secret?" Oz could hear the desperation in his own voice.

The little spark of sanity in Trevor's eyes disappeared altogether. "They said that Catherine is fine, that she gave birth to a healthy baby boy. They lied. My Cathy came to see me. The dead always come to see me. It was so nice to see her again." A tear slipped down his cheek. "I missed her. We were going to get married, you know? It's true!" he declared with a bark. In the next breath he said, "I didn't want to hurt her, but I couldn't let this happen to my son, my child. I guess it's a good thing that she managed to live long enough to give birth."

He trailed off. His tongue flickered out of his mouth and swiped across his dry lips, once, twice. With a sudden jerk, he stood up. A leather bound book was clutched in his sweaty grip. "I better put this up before I go. It has to be here so my son can find it."

Darting glazed looks around the room, Trevor leapt drunkenly up onto the chair. He swayed back and forth for a few seconds then lunged toward the bed. Barked laughter followed his childish tumble across the mattress. Oz couldn't take his eyes off his father despite the dead man's antics. In the back of his mind thoughts that he was suffering a terrible hallucination cried out, but he wasn't afraid for his sanity any longer. He didn't know where the calm came from and he didn't care. He just continued to watch his father.

Trevor bounced out of his roll and hitched himself up on the headboard of the bed. The sloppy smile faded from his face and a serious air descended over him. He tucked the book under the arm holding onto the headboard. With his free hand, he reached above his head and pushed one of the square insulated ceiling tiles out of his way. A narrow sliver of darkness lay beyond the opening. Trevor's hand disappeared into that deep blackness. It reappeared a moment later dragging out a short braided rope of torn sheets. He tossed the rope over his shoulder and then placed the leather bound book into the space it had just occupied.

"There! It'll be safe until he finds it." He flopped onto the bed taking the self-made rope into his hands. Quick and easy, his fingers turned one end of the material into a hangman's noose. A spark filled Trevor's eyes as he stared at the deadly loop. "This is the only way to keep him safe, to protect him from the dead." He slipped the noose down around his neck.

Oz shook his head. He didn't want to see anymore. He tried to speak, to shout, anything to stop the vision before he witnessed his father's death.

"Oz, what are you doing? What's wrong?" Sara's voice and gentle touch shattered the images. When he opened his eyes, Oz was standing on the bed. Sara tugged on his leg and asked, "How did you know that was up there?"

Oz looked at the book in his hands. His fingers trembled as he slowly opened it. Written in a clear and smooth print at the top of the title page were the words, Trevor Howard's Journal. The word 'journal' had been scratched out with several violent pen slashes. Oz felt his chest tighten as he read the one word scribbled in a jagged scrawl across the middle of the page. Secret! Trevor Howard's Secret!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THE WIND

Oz hopped off the bed only seconds before Dr. Watts returned from his phone call. At the sight of the older man, Oz hid the book behind his back. He had no idea why he didn't want the doctor to see the journal, but the thought of having Dr. Watts discover he book's existence stiffened the hairs on the back of Oz's neck.

"I'm sorry for taking so long." Dr. Watts rubbed his hand through his gray fringe for the third time.

"Oh, we understand, you're a very busy man," Oz replied, worried that his voice wasn't as natural as it should be. "In fact, we should probably get out of your way; let you get back to work."

"Well, if there is anything else you want to discuss, feel free to call."

Sara glanced from Oz to the doctor and back again. Oz ignored her questioning stare, saying, "Thank you doctor, I'll keep that in mind. We appreciate you taking the time out of your busy day to help."

"Certainly, not a problem," he stretched out his hand to Oz.

Oz hesitated for a second to switch the journal from his right to his left. "I guess we'll be going now. Thank you again."

After the doctor escorted them out and headed back into the hospital, Sara turned to Oz. "Why didn't you talk to him about the things that have been happening to you?"

"Because it would only cause problems," Holding up the book, he continued, "Look, Sara, I think I figured something out. It's going to sound farfetched, crazy even, but please listen."

"Okay," She slowly nodded.

"You wanted to know how I knew where this book was, right? I had a vision. My father lead me through the last minutes of his life and showed me where he'd put it."

Sara's dark eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I'm not having delusions. To steal a phrase from the movies, I see dead people." His eyes were bright green emeralds matching the excitement that filled his voice.

Sara slumped against the side of Oz's truck. It was too much and what made it that much worse for her, she found herself believing the impossible. She took a deep breath, held it, and then in a rush said, "All right, so what do we do now?"

The look of elation that had come over Oz faded. He glanced at his father's journal and sighed. "I'm not sure. But I know the first thing is to read this. My father and my grandmother both told me to find it. I hope it'll explain why all this started happening to me now."

"I hope so, too."

***

Douglas Green loved his little farm. It had provided for him and his family for several generations. Swiping a hand across his brow, he leaned over the steering wheel of his John Deere. He looked out across his field at the two story house. It had grown from a small cottage into a rambling home. Yet looking at it now, Doug couldn't feel its welcoming tug. Nothing was the same since Margaret passed on. Though he could take comfort from having Oz around and from sweating over his land, he still felt as if he was only half a person.

He hitched a sigh and started the tractor on its way again. "I miss you Maggie. I know you're watching over me, but sometimes it gets real heard to keep on without you around."

A gentle breeze stroked his cheek. Its soft caress eased a little of the grief off Doug's heart. The wind drifted around him and he heard a faint melody from his past. His lips curved in a warm smile as his mind went back to the first time he'd kissed Margaret. "You were the most beautiful girl at the Autumn Harvest Gala. It took me over an hour to work up the courage to ask you to dance."

The breeze seemed to whisper in reply to Doug's reminiscing. He could almost swear he heard Margaret's voice in its feathery touch. He listened to the wind for a few minutes happily reliving that cool night from half a century ago.

A hard kick from the tractor's engine jerked Doug out of his nostalgia. It coughed and sputtered alarmingly. Doug applied the brake but nothing happened. The wheel went loose in his hands and with a belching roar the tractor lurched forward.

"What the blazes!" he shouted, fighting for control of the John Deere.

He'd never seen anything like it in all his years. Nothing he did seemed to work and the tractor continued to build speed. It was already up over its max and still climbing higher by the second.

Doug's heart hammered against his ribcage as if it had decided it didn't want any part of what Doug had found himself in. He held the steering wheel in a death grip, trying to regain control of the insane vehicle. Under his palms, it tried to swing hard to the left. White-knuckled, he fought to keep the John Deere from flipping over.

The wind rushed around his ears. It circled his head twice, the sweet melody long gone. "Jump, Doug, jump!" it called as it made another pass around him.

"Margaret!" he gasped.

"Jump! Oh, please, God!"

The muscles in Doug's body tensed and when the steering wheel jerked from his grasp, he leapt. He flew away from the tractor in the opposite direction from its turn. His shoulder smashed into the dirt with jarring force. Momentum spun him skidding through the just turned soil of the field.

The sound of heavy metal crashing in a terrible roll had Doug on his feet in seconds. He hurt all over and had trouble catching his breath, but he knew that if he'd stayed on the tractor one second longer he would have died.

The breeze brushed his cheek. "Thank you, Maggie."

"I love you, always."

A shriek of total anger shot away from the downed tractor and sped across the wind in a complete fury. Doug shivered and knew that something was terribly wrong in his town.

***

The wind howled through the trees. A chill seeped into Paul Collins' bones. He didn't understand the sudden sense of foreboding that tingled along his spine. "Aren't you a bit old to be gettin' spooked by the wind?" he asked himself as he climbed into his truck.

He turned the key and pumped the gas pedal with three quick taps. The engine coughed, then roared to life, rattling with age. "That's my baby!" He patted the dashboard, proud that he'd managed to keep the old Ford running all these years. "And everyone thinks I'm crazy for having such an old truck."

The Ford rumbled out of the drive and onto the narrow highway into town. Paul enjoyed the quiet solitude of his morning commutes to work. It allowed him to charge up before opening the doors to one of the only clothing shops in the county. Some days if it weren't for this time of peace, Paul wouldn't be able to handle the burden of the business.

A smile rode high on his lips as he neared the clearing that marked Doug's lands. He glanced over across the fields. His blood ran like ice through his veins at the sight before him. Doug's old John Deere lay in a smoking heap on its side. Paul started to turn his truck toward Doug's driveway to see if his old friend was all right. He was so worried about Doug that it took him a second to realize the steering wheel refused to respond to his efforts.

The gas pedal sank to the floor out from under his foot. "What the hell!"

The engine roared as the clutch and stick shift worked their way up to high gear. Paul fought the wheel barely able to keep it on the road. He slammed the brake again and again, the pedal flopping loosely with no effect. The truck only seemed to go faster.

The trees, tipped gold by the rising sun, flew passed in a blur. Paul's heart beat in his chest like a primitive drum. He could hear it in his ears. Bum, dum, bum-dum, bumdumbumdum! The truck whipped around a bend half in the opposite lane. Less than a dozen feet in front of him was a gray sedan.

"Oh God!" He called out, the only words of prayer he could manage.

***

Edward Nelson had never had this much trouble with his car before. The steering was stiff and it kept gaining speed for no reason. Twice it had nearly sent him off the road. Now he was terrified. Paul's rusted over, bucket of bolts was barreling down on him and he couldn't get the car to respond at all.

The wind howled through his open window like an omen to the horrible seconds away. Ed felt a sharp twist of pain in his chest, felt the air burn in his lungs. Immediately, he knew it was the dreaded heart attack his family had worried about for years. A dry laugh wheezed from his throat. It was so ironic how his death had nothing to do with his weakening heart.

Darkness crept into his vision as the front of the sedan crumpled into the bumper of Paul's pickup. The jarring impact slung him back in his seat. The screech of metal against metal played like a death knell for Ed. The steering column smashed into him, the blaze of white-hot pain was the last thing he knew before the darkness swallowed him whole.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

DARKNESS

A long, slow creak moaned from the roof. The house felt its years more keenly than an old dog. Time wasn't the only thing to have robbed it of its youth. If the house could understand what it saw, what it held in its rotting embrace, it would know why the earth was devouring it.

Death and worse dwelled inside. Something dark, so dark there was no light left, had found its way in. Now the house no longer existed to shelter but to imprison.

A chunk of the sagging roof groaned. The loud bone like crunch of wood giving way echoed out. The section crumbled and collapsed with a savage crash. A rush of dust-laden wind battered at the new opening. It pressed upward inching further out of the house. Time trickled on and even with the house falling in on itself, the wind couldn't escape. It struggled for several minutes more, then slowly settled down. Whispers of anger and frustration could almost be heard with its last brush against the invisible barrier.

Darkness watched from under the shade of the towering trees. He gathered in the deep pools running all along the forest near the house. Using the house as a prison fed the darkness, gave him strength. With the man's discovery of the book, he would need all the strength he could muster.

A faint breeze flitted through the leaves of one of the high trees, causing a dance of light to flicker in the shade. The darkness hissed with rage. The three he couldn't capture! The strongest spirit had not died at his hand so he understood why she was always beyond his grasp. But he'd brought death to the third one, and had tortured the second until he took his own life. Yet, they eluded him, pricking holes in his work.

Now they help the man! The darkness snarled. Then a slow, twisted smile came to him. His attack that morning may not have worked as he'd planned, but he knew that it would terrify the man.

Trevor you should not have brought him here. Soon I will have the power to get past even your protections. His life will taste sweet. A hollow bark of laughter echoed through the woods like the cry of an injured beast.

***

A chill settled over Oz's skin. With a tiny shudder, he asked, "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Sara glanced around before looking back at him.

Oz tried to shrug it off. "I guess it was nothing. Hey look, we're almost to town." The skin tightened along the back of his neck. He felt a tug, a cold pull from the woods on the side of the road. There was no need for him to look, he knew that the ruined fence gate stood there and beyond lay the house he'd wished to forget for over half his life. He clenched his fists on the steering wheel, using the warm leather to keep him from staring at the green dark trees.

"What's wrong?" Sara asked and placed her hand on Oz's wrist.

He shook his head as if to clear it. His gaze was a soft bottle green, doubt deepening the color. "I don't know." The knot of his Adam's apple bobbled once. "I don't like it though."

Without thought or reason he dropped the Dodge's steady cruise to a sedate pace. The sun hung overhead like a golden disk of fire. Bright rays fanned down from the azure sky. Yet, a veil of blackness seemed to settle across Oz's vision. Shadows crept out of the woods. They glimmered like small lakes of dark water in the late spring heat.

Nearing the sharp bend in the road, Oz pulled his foot off the gas pedal and let it hover above the brake. The hairs on the back of his arm prickled. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. He felt that icy pull again, running down his spine. It drew his eyes way from the road. He looked back. He could see the old fence, but he knew that as he stared into the darkness where it stood he was also being watched.

"OZ! WATCH OUT!" Sara screamed, her eyes large double O's of black-brown fright.

Oz snapped around. His blood froze in his veins at the sight before him. The road looked like a scene from one of his nightmares. Twisted heaps of metal stretched across both lanes. Shattered glass glittered on the asphalt like diamonds in the suddenly cold light of the noon sun. Men in and out of uniform rushed all over the wrecks, but their hurried movements all seemed in a horrible slow motion to Oz.

He nearly drove the truck off the road when he pulled over to the shoulder. One of the highway patrolmen near the accident site broke away from the others and headed toward them. It took Oz several seconds to notice that Sara was squeezing his hand in hers as if it were the only thing holding her to the earth. A soft sound like the whisper of birds in flight drifted to him. He turned and looked at Sara. Her eyes were large shimmering beads. Tears welled in them, ready to tumble down her ashen cheeks. Her fist was pressed to her lips muffling the words she spoke.

Oz leaned closer, his hand tightening around hers for comfort. "Oh, God! Sweet Jesus it can't be! That's Paul's truck! Oh, God Paul!"

She curled against Oz's side, emotions overwhelming her as the officer from the accident site reached Oz's open window. "Ah, folks you're gonna have to back off a bit. We're not sure if there's a chance for fire."

Oz felt numb. He didn't know what to think. This all seemed unreal, like he'd fallen asleep and was living through one of his nightmares. The only thing needed to make it complete was his father's corpse cackling at him. He glanced up and asked, "What happened?"

The patrolman scrubbed his hands over his face. On any normal day, he would have looked young, only a short time out of high school. But on this day, he had the appearance of a man years older. The youthful illusions of immortality had been stripped from his mind. He swallowed twice before he answered. "Two guys took the turn too fast."

"Are thy all right?" Oz asked afraid to hear the answer.

Again the young man's throat worked. "No. I can't say much but one died on impact and the other is in a bad way. We're trying to get him out of the vehicle and into the ambulance right now. So, I'm gonna havta ask you to please clear the area."

"That truck belongs to a relative," Oz said.

The young officer's eyes darkened, sympathy glistening in the gray-blue orbs. "I'm sorry sir; we're doing the best we can right now. But you're still going to have to back off some. The crew's need room to work."

"Okay, sure thing." Oz put the Dodge into reverse.

The truck lurched back. Sara looked up. Her voice was a choked whisper. "My God! Oz, it's Paul!"

He looked back at the wreck and saw Paul's limp body lifted onto a gurney. Fear and rage boiled inside his stomach. A dark shape stood beside the ambulance, only a few feet away from the paramedics and other men. Oz had no doubt that he was the only one who could see the shadow. It raised a smoky dark limb and waved at him. This was no accident! This is a message! What the hell is going on? The question echoed hollowly through Oz's mind.

***

"Has anyone been able to get a hold of Rachel?" Doug asked.

"I called the courthouse a few minutes ago. She'll meet us at the hospital." Oz was glad that his grandfather had shown up shortly after the ambulance began to pull away. While Doug asked the rescue workers where they were taking Paul, Oz used his cell to contact Rachel. It was a conversation he wished never to repeat or remember, yet his mind continued to play it over and over again like the track of a broken record.

"What about Ed's family?" Sara asked, saving Oz from his thoughts.

"They told me that a deputy was being dispatched to speak with Maeve and the kids," Doug answered. Oz couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew there was something off about his grandfather's behavior. He was strangely calm and aloof. More than once he glanced at the journal on the dashboard, a knowing light in his faded brown eyes.

The stress and worry of the day forced the matter to the back of Oz's mind. There were more important things to think about, like praying that Paul would be all right.

Silence heavier than any Oz had felt before settled around them. It held them in its embrace for the entire trip to the hospital, hovering over them as they made their way into the emergency room waiting area. There was no reprieve. It pressed down on them until Oz was certain his back was bowed from its weight.

Slices of fear and tingles of dread worked their way through Oz's body. Without a way to face the emotions, he began to wear away at himself. He paced the room just for something to do, something to keep his mind busy.

The cloud of silence mocked him, matching him quick stride for stride. Thoughts churned in his mind. What is going on? Was this just an accident or a threat? God! Everything is just crazy around here!

"H, how is he?" Rachel's voice shattered the bubble of silence.

Sara and Oz moved at once, wrapping her in a fierce hug. "We haven't heard yet." Sara stroked a hand down Rachel's pageboy.

They stood that way for several minutes until a smooth cultured voice spoke from behind them. "Are you Mr. Collins' family?"

"Yes, yes! How is he?" Rachel asked. She rubbed the tears from her cheeks with the heel of her palm.

"He's stable. His injures weren't as extensive as we first thought. Dislocated shoulder, broken leg, several scrapes and bruises, and a mild concussion is all. We'll be keeping him overnight for observation. The fact that he lost consciousness for so long is a concern, but with the way he responded to my questions now, I feel that he should be well enough to leave tomorrow."

"Oh, God, thank you! Can we see him?" Rachel squeezed the doctor's hand, more tears tumbling down her pale cheeks.

"Yes, but we just gave him a sedative so he'll be sleeping soon."

"Thank you."

"Let me show you to his room." The doctor turned and left the waiting room.

CHAPTER TWENTY

THE VOW

Stepping into the hospital room was like reliving Margaret's death. Oz saw it like a superimposed image. One on top of the other, his grandmother and Paul were stretched out in the bed. Her blank dead eyes stared out of Paul's pale face.

Oz felt his stomach twist in a fist of dread. He couldn't handle having to go through it again. Too much had already happened that day. How much more before it's over? His mind begged. And at that moment he just couldn't deal with his memories of Margaret's death.

He leaned against the doorframe, digging his fingers into the smooth wood. Eyes clinched shut; he tried to pull himself together. After a long second, he looked at Paul again. The strange double image of his grandmother was fading. Oz blinked several times to remove it completely.

Now what lay before him worried him, but at least it wasn't disturbing. A square gauze bandage covered the right corner of Paul's forehead. A dark smudge marked his cheek, the bruise already an ugly purple. His arm hung limp in a sling across his chest.

Oz moved toward the bed, a brave smile on his face. He glanced at the fresh white wrapping of Paul's leg cast. It sparked an idea on how to lighten the tension in the room. "Don't you think this was a lot of trouble just to get our attention? Now I guess you'll want all of us to sign your cast."

Paul chuckled then winced at a sharp stitch in his side. "You know me, always over the top." His voice was strained. A hint of the medication wavered through his words, weaving a slight slur to his speech.

"Well, next time how about you stick to safer stunts?" Oz gave a weak chuckle.

"You got it." Paul closed his eyes for a moment. A heavy sigh slipped out as he asked, "What about Ed?"

All the air seemed to be sucked out of the room. Oz, Doug, and the two women just stared, their mouths partway open. What could they say? No matter how he looked at it, Paul would feel responsible. He would be twisted by the guilt of taking another person's life.

Rachel was the first to find her voice. "Honey, there..." She swallowed hard. "You must remember that it was an accident."

Paul took no time to understand. He lifted his good hand up to his face, covering his eyes. "But it wasn't." There was a frustrated edge to his words.

A spark blazed in Rachel's gray-blue gaze. Fear danced on her voice as she asked, "What are you saying?"

"I'm not sure." He yawned then continued. "All I know is that something caused it. Something took..." He fought futilely against another yawn. With an irritated growl, he clenched his jaws closed and spoke through his lips. "Something forced me into the wrong lane!"

"What do you mean? There was someone else, another car?" Rachel asked, her hand gripping Paul's good one tight.

"No. Something, not someone!" He sagged against his pillow. "I don't know how to explain it. It doesn't make sense, it's just too crazy!"

"Paul, why don't you just rest now and you can tell us about it tomorrow. It might make more sense in the morning." Doug cut in before anyone had a chance to ask anything more.

"Yes, honey, you just rest now. We can talk in the morning." Rachel leaned forward and kissed Paul's unmarked cheek.

"You're right. I'm really tired." He closed his eyes, relaxing completely into his pillows.

"C'mon, Rache, we better go so he can get some sleep." Sara took Rachel's hand and led her out of the room.

Doug leaned close to Paul's ear. Oz couldn't hear all of what his grandfather said, but what he did hear made him even more curious. He decided that as soon as he got a chance, he'd have to talk to Doug privately.

"Are you coming, Oz?" Doug asked as he put his hand on Oz's shoulder.

Patting his grandfather's hand he said, "Yeah, I just have something I need to say to Paul."

"Well, I'll see you outside then." He turned to join the two women.

Oz stepped over to the side of the bed. He wasn't sure what he was going to say. He looked down at his friend and thought about how the shadow figure had stood near the accident. "Paul, I'm not sure how to say this, hell, I'm not even completely sure it isn't just me losing my mind. But I think I know what happened to you today."

Paul looked up, a strange half grin on his face. "Boy, I must be hearing things. That's almost exactly what Doug said." His voice was heavy with medication.

Oz was at a loss. The fact that his grandfather claimed to know what happened threw Oz for a loop. He hadn't been there, couldn't have seen the accident. How could he know? He asked himself.

"Well, are ya gonna tell me or are ya gonna make me wait like Doug did?" Paul slurred, sleep only seconds from taking him under.

Oz pulled his thoughts back to the moment at hand. "It's complicated. Most of it will have to wait until you've rested. But what I can say is that what happened to you was a threat to me, or at least I think it was."

"Oh, that's nice." He slumped to his good side. After a few seconds of listening to his steady, even breathing, Oz knew he had fallen asleep.

"Sleep tight, buddy." He patted Paul's good arm then went to join the others.

***

"Do you want me to drive you home? We could pick up Katydid early from school," Sara offered, her hand continuing to brush the back of Rachel's head.

"Thank you. I'd like that." With a heavy breath she continued, "Even though it tears me up to see him like that, I thank God he's alive! Sara, I don't know what I would do if I lost him."

Sara hugged her tighter. "Don't think on it. Everything's all right now. In no time at all Paul will be back to his old self and this will just be a painful memory."

Oz listened to the women talk and wished he could take solace in their words. But after speaking to Paul, he realized that he'd brought this upon them. Part of him knew that he shouldn't blame himself, yet the seed of guilt took root and grew like a crazed weed.

Doug squeezed Oz's shoulder. The contact gave him strength; he had to stop this, whatever it is, from happening again. He looked from face to face of each of his companions. A soul deep vow to protect each one of them surfaced in his mind. Silently, he accepted his charge.

"Ladies, it's been a long, stressful day. We won't do Paul or ourselves any good worrying ourselves to death in the middle of the hospital. Let's all head home and try to keep our minds busy," Doug suggested.

"Yeah, let's go get my niece. I could use one of her smiles right now." Rachel agreed. She turned toward Oz and his grandfather. "Thanks for being here. It means a lot."

"Hey, don't think of it. We're too much like family. Now you just take care of yourself," Doug said patting her arm.

"You too. See you later." She gave a weak smile and rubbed the back of her hand across her tear stained cheek.

"Later," Oz and Doug said as one.

Oz watched them walk away, waiting until they were too far away to hear him before he asked, "Paw, what did you mean when you told Paul you knew what happened to him?"

Dark eyes shifted from side to side, Doug's voice was pitched almost too low for Oz to hear. "Not here."

"What?" Oz gaped at him.

"We'll talk in the truck. I don't want anyone to hear us."

Oz understood how his grandfather felt. He didn't think that the matter of seeing dead people was something he wanted the hospital staff to know about. But Doug's sudden apprehension didn't settle well with Oz. "Ok, then let's get going."

***

The silence inside the cab of Oz's truck mocked Doug. How am I going to tell him? How can I get him to understand, when I'm not sure I do? Doug worried. He didn't have the foggiest idea where to start.

Oz's presence tightened Doug's chest with the need to explain. His eyes darted to the road to his grandson then to the leather bond book on the dashboard. Something about the book drew his attention. Before he knew what he was doing, he had the warm leather in his hands. It was coated with dust, the pages yellowed and stiff with age. I'm surprised it's not full of silverfish! Doug opened it. The soft creak of its stiff spine bending caught Oz's attention.

Oz opened his mouth only to close it again. He wanted to see what his grandfather thought of Trevor's journal without input from him.

Unaware of his audience, Doug skimmed over several entries. On the third one, he stopped, laid his index finger on a line halfway down the page and read it more carefully.

After he looked it over a second time, he closed the book and stared off into space. Trevor's words spun around inside his head.

I thought that I wouldn't see any more ghosts. Until I moved here to be near Cathy's family, I hadn't seen one in years. My gram taught me how to tune them out, but something's wrong here. The dead are stronger here. One attacked me today. If I had been anyone else, it might have actually hurt me. I've never seen them use the wind like that before. I don't know if I can protect Cathy. God! I'm so scared!

Doug looked up at his grandson and caught Oz glancing back at him out of the corner of his eye. "You know, I never spoke of your father. I tried not to answer too many of your questions about him. My reasons for it were simple. I didn't want you to know how I thought of him." Doug paused. It was still hard to talk about his grandson's father.

"You didn't like him." Oz's words sounded more like a question than a statement.

Doug took a long moment before he replied. "When I first met him, I was so happy that my baby girl had found a good man. He was polite, respectful, and hard working. It was easy to see he loved Catherine and had every intention of marrying her." He chuckled as he continued. "It did give me a moment of concern when I found out she was already a month along with you, but since she was so happy, I easily got over it." He trailed off. His fingers worried over Trevor's journal. The hardest part of what he had to say still lay ahead of him. I've never seen them use the wind like that before. Trevor's words pushed Doug on.

"One day your father started to act strangely. He was suddenly nervous, jumping at every shadow, but he never would say what he was so scared of. He just seemed to get worse and worse. And then he attacked your mother. Luckily, I was nearby and managed to pull him off of her before he hurt her too badly." Doug closed his eyes. Like it had been only yesterday, he could see Trevor holding his baby girl down, the gleam of fear dancing in both their faces. "He was shouting and screaming. At the time, I didn't understand it. Until today, I'd always just thought he'd gone crazy."

"What do you mean?" Oz asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

In a rush, almost as if he couldn't get the words out unless he blurted them, Doug said, "He was shouting about ghosts, ghosts attacking him. Unlike him, I haven't seen any, but I was attacked by one this morning, same as Paul was."

***

Oz nearly drove the truck into the ditch. The bomb his grandfather just dropped in his lap left him almost too stunned to drive. Taking several seconds to get the Dodge back under control, Oz just focused on the road and not the new twist the world had taken.

Almost a mile passed before he felt steady enough to consider what Doug had said. Attacked by a ghost, this is all my fault. Another bud bloomed on his growing weed of guilt. He'd failed to protect Paul and now he wasn't there when his grandfather needed him the most. He didn't know how he could have prevented it, but he still felt responsible.

"Oz?" Doug started.

"Paw, what exactly happened this morning?" Oz didn't want to let the older man know how torn up he was, didn't want to make him worry.

"Well, it started when Maggie was cheering me up. In fact, if she hadn't been there I would've been in worse shape than Paul."

That brought Oz halfway around in his seat. His voice a quivering stream of shock, he asked, "Maw was there? You saw her?"

"Damn it boy, watch the road!" Doug barked back at him.

Oz swung back to the proper position in time to pull the truck back in to the right lane. "You saw Maw?" He repeated.

"No, I didn't see her. She was just a voice on the wind."

Oz shook his head. "I don't understand. If they can talk to just anybody, why have they been trying to drive me crazy?"

"So, they have been bothering you. I thought so. They're what's causing your nightmares, aren't they?" he asked, his tone the same one he would have used if he were talking about the weather.

Oz looked at his calm expression and smiled. "Nothing surprises you does it? Yes, they've been causing my nightmares, but I don't know why – not if they can talk to anyone they want to."

"I'm no authority on the subject, but I would say that they can't talk to just anybody. I figure there has to be a connection most of the time, and from what I gather from Maggie's visit today, it isn't easy for them to make contact."

Rubbing at the side of his head, Oz said, "I guess that makes sense. Ha!" He gave a hard, sarcastic bark of laughter. "Yeah, it makes sense for something that's totally insane! How can this be happening? Why are all these dead people trying to talk to me all of a sudden? ARH!" He slammed his fist down on the steering wheel.

"I don't really know, boy-o. You always heard things and saw things that no one else did. We shrugged it off thinking you were being a kid." Doug lifted one shoulder and smoothly dropped it back down, doing exactly as he said he'd done all those years ago.

Oz sighed feeling more lost than ever. "I wish I understood what's going on. I guess my only option is to read my father's journal and hope that the answer will come to me."

"Us. Don't forget that I'm here. I wouldn't let you take something like this on by yourself." Doug squeezed Oz's shoulder.

"Thanks. It feels good to know that I'm not crazy and that I do not have to face this alone." Despite his words, Oz felt more alone at that moment than any other time in his life. He wouldn't let his grandfather get hurt, he couldn't fail again. I won't!

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

NEED

Oz sat at his old desk, the work for his firm he'd done earlier that day pushed to the side and forgotten. The journal lay open in front of him, but he couldn't bring himself to read another passage. At first, the entries were regular and clear, then slowly, they began to come at sporadic moments. Sometimes there were three entries in one day and others there was one for an entire week.

After the fifteenth passage, his father started to descend into madness. His clear, concise writing turned into an almost rambling scrawl. Oz felt no closer to understanding what was happening in the town. He shoved his hands in his hair and leaned back in his seat.

With a frustrated snarl, he pushed away from the desk. His muscles bunched and coiled like a caged lion's as he paced a tight circle around the room. Guilt, that dark, twisting seed, pushed him, left him restless. And after reading what he had of his father's journal, it was that much more obvious that what happened to Paul and Ed, and what nearly happened to Paw, wasn't his fault. Yet the guilt remained, raking him over hot coals.

He stopped by his window. A storm was coming. It had slipped up on him. He hadn't been aware that the weather had changed. The sky was a dark purple bruise, the clouds a lighter shade. Deep in their depths, lightning flickered like dancing pools of fire.

Looking out at the storm, Oz felt empty. The guilt seemed to have hollowed him out, left him an aching shell. It hungered to be filled, begged to be sated. Need sparked and flared high, a need to do something, to take action.

On impulse, Oz snatched up his keys and headed downstairs. He didn't know where he was going, all he knew was he needed to go. With each second that ticked by the need grew stronger. The miles he passed only seemed to feed it, to fan it higher.

The emptiness inside him began to turn cold, a seeping chill that almost left Oz shivering. Lightning slashed the clouds like a jagged ice blade, doubling the cold inside of him.

Turning down a narrow drive he realized where he was going, where the need had been taking him all along. Sara's house! A few lights still burning bright against the night, it stood before him. Oz stared at it; the need and empty chill churning in his chest to match the threatening storm.

Another spike of blazing light struck out from the dark clouds. A cascade of white in a waterfall like tumble to the earth, the lightning threw the shadows back. It was a short flash of day in the black of night.

As the shadows leapt into place once again, Oz killed the engine. His hands trembled. He gripped the wheel to keep them steady. The storm broke overhead and inside him at the same time. Need and ice splashing through his entire body.

The three deep breaths he took to steady himself barely had any affect. He took three more, but the need tore them into hurried pants. He couldn't resist any longer. The rain sliced him like thousands of tiny needles before he had realized he'd climbed out of the truck. It added to the chill, feeding the need. Just more fuel to the cold fire raging inside of him.

In seconds, he was on the porch, water dripping from him in pools around his feet. Shivers ran throughout his body. He rang the bell. The cold emptiness was impatient. He pounded on the door, unwilling to wait and see if the first summons had worked.

The curtain in the window beside the door twitched. Oz could see one dark brown eye. Counting to ten, he tried to calm down. He took several more deep breaths, yet he only managed to pull himself halfway to rights.

Slowly, Sara opened the door. "Oz, what are you doing out in this weather?"

A flicker of heat, a spark of flame flashed in Oz's stomach fighting against the cold emptiness. "I wanted," he shook his head. "I needed to see you." His voice rumbled out more like an animal's growl than human speech.

Her eyes widened, her words thickened. "Needed to see me? Why? Is something wrong?"

"I don't know," he leaned forward, the need drawing him closer to her warmth. The heat grew with every inch he closed between them. His eyes were as wide as hers when their lips met. The cold vanished in a rage of desire. The need turned, spun, slipped along with the new tide and pushed Oz on.

***

If this was a dream, Sara didn't want to ever wake up. She could hardly believe it. He'd come to her! His sharp green eyes were a swirl of emotions and needs. They matched her own. Part of her heart wept. She wanted him to love her as well, but she would take what she could get for now and worry about the rest later.

His lips burned, the desire was ravenous. It fed off Sara, her sweet dark flavor. The scent of her, perfume and woman, tore at him. Water trickled down his face from his hair, indifferent to the two people. Oz was surprised that the heat inside him didn't steam it off.

Sara raised her arms. They felt heavier than they had only moments ago. Though the only part of him that touched her was his mouth, he tortured her, made her crave for more. She parted her lips in invitation. An arrow of pleasure shot straight to her belly when his tongue dipped, swirled, invading her mouth.

Hers mated with his, slipping and sliding in a warm, wet battle. Oz's hand trembled along her back. She didn't know or care what he was fighting against. She only wanted to challenge it, pushing at his resistance. Hungry for more of his touch, she crushed her breasts to his chest, holding him as tightly as she could.

The only thing that was clear in Oz's mind was the thought to be gentle. Desire tore at what little control he had left. With Sara pressed against him, she nearly clawed away that last little shred. She was everything he remembered, everything he wanted, and so much more!

Sara ran her hands over his back, into his thick hair. A thrill rippled through her on Oz's moan. The rolling echo of thunder reminded her that they were still standing in the doorway, a storm raging a few feet beyond. With great effort, she pulled back.

"The storm..." That's all she managed to say before Oz closed his mouth over hers again. His hands slid up her body, sparking wild fires along her skin, to cup her breasts. His thumbs brushed across her already stiff peaks. A whimper escaped her lips.

The last thread of his control unraveled and snapped. Like a starved beast, he dropped his head to her throat, feasting on the dark flavors of her silky skin. His fingers worked frantically at the tiny buttons on her blouse. It was amazing that he was steady enough to have only torn two of them off.

A sound somewhere between a growl and a sigh rumbled out of his throat at the sight of Sara's full breasts heaving under white lace. His breath quickened, longing and need pounded in thick, fast beasts through his veins. With a tenderness that shot straight to Sara's heart, he ran his hand along her bra.

Cupper her breasts, Oz sank into the soft velvet of her lips again. The kiss was slow, deepening degree by burning degree. Time and the storm behind him were lost in the raging inferno that blazed inside his body. He wanted to see more of her, to touch the soft curves, to taste all the sweet, dark flavors. To wallow in her sensual glory!

On a rapid fire line of kisses, he worked his way down Sara's jaw, her throat, down to her chest. Through the lace of her bra, he suckled as if dying of thirst. His tongue slipped under the delicate material, laved the bud of her nipple, sending a blade of pleasure straight to her center. A flick of the wrist and the front clasp of the bra was released. Her breasts filled his palms as if they were made for each other.

Sara was already wet. The arousal built with each passing second. She needed to see, to touch, Oz as much as he needed her. Half wild, she pulled at his shirt, ripping a seam as she tugged it over his head and arms. Her hands were everywhere, touching, feeling, exploring his damp chest, shoulders, back.

Kissing and tasting her breasts again, he worked at her slacks. They drifted down her legs to pool around her ankles with a soft whisper. His fingers trailed a line down her stomach, over her panties. He cupped her, stiffening even more with the quiver of her thighs. Quick merciless strokes, his fingers drover her to the brink, left her lingering at the peak for a long vicious moment before tumbling her over the other side.

It was a honeyed blade, pleasure and pain too close together to separate. Sara just gasped as Oz tortured her, spike after spike the orgasm rippled through her. He didn't give her time to recover. Seconds after his fingers had sent her flying, his mouth was there doing glorious, wicked things to her.

Her moan bordered on a scream. She gripped at his shoulders, digging tiny furrows into his back.

"Oh God! Now!" she cried.

Oz shook his head and brought her to climax again. He was too far gone, stripped of all that was left of his reason. He was a rabid beast devouring her sweet juices.

"Please! God!" Sara gasped, begging for what she wasn't sure.

Finally, Oz gave in. A growl rumbled out of his chest as he tore his pants off. He was hard enough to shatter. He needed release! Before either of them could react, he was inside her. She gripped him with her warmth, demanding more and more of him.

The storm to his back made a counterpoint to his wild thrusts. Thunder crashed and lightning blazed urging the two on. As Sara cried out once more, Oz shivered, then for a long second went completely rigid. They both collapsed on the floor limp and washed out.

***

Oz didn't know how long they lay there, tangled up in each other's limbs. Slowly, his mind cleared and a horrible thought came to him. He snapped his head up to look at Sara's face. A satisfied smile sat on her lips. Oz was almost too reluctant to disturb her.

"Sara, do you think, um, that well, you know, we scared Katy?" he stammered.

It was sweet, so sweet of him to worry about her little angel. She turned, her smile brighter than it was seconds ago. "She's a heavy sleeper. She'd sleep through a bomb going off down here."

Oz breathed a sigh. He rolled over drawing Sara with him, cradled to his chest. The floor was cold and damp. The storm had worked its way up the porch and a short way into the house.

"You know we should close the door," he said.

"In a second," she rested her head under his chin.

Holding her like that Oz felt his heart tighten. Though he knew better, he'd tried to convince himself that he didn't love her any more, that it was all in the past. Now he knew that he couldn't let her go. She may not want him to be her husband, but he wasn't going to let her get away this time. She was his life.

Gently, Sara touched his cheek, brushed a finger across his lips. "Come to bed with me, Oz. Make love with me again." The quiet plea squeezed his heart.

Slowly and carefully, he rose, drawing her to her feet. Without a word, he lifted her off the floor, closed the door with a kick, and carried her upstairs.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

MORNING GLORY

A faint sliver of sunrise slipped through the blinds. It lay in a strip across the bed, a thin line of light over Oz's face. Sara studied the play of yellow white on her lover's sleeping form. It was the first time since he'd come back to town that she'd seen him without all the concern and worry weighing him down. His soft, even breathing felt right, felt so good beside her that she wanted to listen to it for hours.

"But there's a little angel that needs to get ready for school," she whispered to herself.

Careful not to disturb Oz, she slipped out of bed, throwing on her nightgown that had been neglected during the night. A small moan slid past Oz's lips. The lines of worry that had been missing from his face a moment ago creased his brow. With a heavy grunt, he snuggled into Sara's vacant pillow. He breathed deep and sighed, his brow smoothed flat. Sara waited several seconds until she heard his even breathing again.

Smiling, satisfied and more than a little smug, she watched Oz sleep. His obvious need for her filled her heart to bursting. Unable to resist any longer, she brushed his dark blonde hair off his forehead. Part of her still couldn't believe he'd come for her last night.

With a sigh of her own, she headed to her daughter's room. Before she reached the open door, she heard the soft whisper of a hushed voice. She glanced around the door. Katy had her ragged doll Madeline by its re-stitched arms and was dancing it about the bed.

"Whacha doin', Katydid?" Sara smiled at her little girl.

"Singing. Maddy likes to dance to my singing." She looked up, a tumble of golden locks fell over one side of her face.

Sara stepped into the room. Running her hands across Katy's silken hair she said, "You're up early, did you have another nightmare?"

One shoulder rose then dropped back down. "I don't know, I just woke up."

Sara hugged Katy to her stomach. "Well, since you're up we better get ready for school, don't you think." She didn't wait for an answer. "Go brush your teeth and then we can get dressed."

"I wanna wear my Pooh shirt." She hopped off the bed.

"Ok, we'll put it on after you brush your teeth." With a pat to her little girl's bottom, Sara sent her on her way.

***

Shifting further into the pillow, Oz inhaled Sara's scent, Lilies in Spring. That fragrance had haunted him all the years since he'd left town. It had called to him, gently demanding him to come back. After last night, he was amazed that he'd managed to stay away for so long.

It had been so perfect, better than ever before. More than just sex, way more. It was the first time in a long time that he felt complete, whole. He shifted again and realized it was only a pillow he was snuggled up with. He was alone in the bed. A sudden chill seeped into his bones. Emptiness seemed to well inside of him like a tidal wave of ice. He needed her near. He couldn't sleep without her.

He leapt onto the floor. Taking a moment to slip into his clothes, he listened for noises in the house. Voices fluttered a ways off, too faint for him to understand. "She's probably getting Katy ready for school," he muttered. At the door, he hesitated. Should he walk out of the girl's mother's room? Would it look bad to a six-year-old? He didn't know, but he couldn't see any way around it. Letting out a deep breath, he decided to swallow the bullet and hoped that it wouldn't be too bad.

The voices had gone silent. The only sound he could hear was a soft shuffling in the room a little ways down the hall. On bare feet, he drifted to the open door. Sara was bent over, rummaging in a drawer. Her flannel nightgown had ridden up to reveal the back of her firm thighs. A grin spread across his lips. It didn't matter how inappropriate it was to think about the glorious shape of her backside while her daughter was in the house. He just couldn't help himself.

When she straightened up he asked, "Do you think I should leave before Katy sees me?"

She spun around, her mouth a large circle. Patting her chest, she said, "You startled me!" Instead of answering his question, she asked, "Do you want breakfast? Katy will, and I know that I would enjoy the company."

The smile that spread across his face reflected in Sara's eyes. He came to her, their lips finding each other as if they'd been drawn together by a magnetic force. There was heat, a slow, consuming burn, but none of the desperation of earlier. Oz had to find the strength to pull away. He didn't think the desires beating in his chest would be a good thing to act on with a six-year-old running around. Even if Sara seemed as eager to continue as he was.

"So, I take that as a yes," Sara breathed, her face flushed from the kiss.

"If you think it's all right." He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.

"I do." She laid her hand on his shoulder. A slow smile pulled at her lips, exposing her dimple. With two fingers, she tugged on the torn seam of Oz's shirt. "I'm sorry about this. I guess I was a little impatient last night."

"If you hadn't done it, I probably would have. I was just as impatient." He began to lean forward, unable to resist the need to touch her.

"Ozzie!" A solid weight slammed into the back of his legs. He had to grab Sara's shoulders and turn his lustful movement into an attempt at balance. It was too little too late. A short scream escaped Sara's mouth as they all tumbled onto the bed. Tangled on the small mattress their laughter filled the house.

"Well, it looks like you're raising a full-back instead of a little girl," Oz said around his continued mirth.

"I guess I wasn't the only one happy to see you." Sara giggled, unwinding Katy and herself from the pile.

"Horsy-ride!" The miniature football player demanded.

Before Oz could halfway reclaim his feet, Katy was up on his back. "OK! Hang on tight!" He bounced and spun, dipped and raced around the room, neighing like a horse the entire time. Katy clung to him with a knuckle white grip even though he had his hand under her bottom for support.

After a couple minutes watching their antics Sara said, "I think it's time a certain little girl got out of her PJ's and into her Pooh outfit."

Oz did a quick spin and then with a careful twist tossed Katy onto her bed. She giggled as if she was made of nothing but the sound. Immediately, she was back on her feet and demanding another ride. "Again! Again! Please! Again!"

"Maybe later, it's time to get you ready for school! You wouldn't want to be late." He pressed her small button nose.

"Ah, please, just once!" She turned a sad-eyed stare up at him.

Glancing at Sara, Oz joked, "It looks like I made a big mistake the other day when I started this."

"Well, I did warn you," Sara laughed.

"Please, Ozzie! Just one more time," Katy persisted, not willing to let Oz get distracted.

Oz snatched her off the bed and asked, "How about I just flip you upside down and tickle you?"

Katy squealed as he turned her over. "No! No!" Echoes of laughter flew around the room.

After several seconds, he sat her back onto the bed. "Okay, okay," he pretended to be out of breath. "That's it! I can't take any more! Get dressed and I'll meet you down stairs. We can make breakfast together."

Her hazel green eyes widened, pleasure glowing from her whole face. She hopped onto the floor and ran to her mother's waiting arms. Oz left them to see if he could get breakfast started.

***

A dance of lavender and gray, the rippled bellies of the clouds glimmered in the blaze of the rising sun. Oz watched the light devour the dark, leaving only thin wisps of the night in tattered shadows along the landscape. Beauty glowed in everything before him and around him. His heart swelled with it as he headed into the kitchen ready to get breakfast going.

A wide smile spread over his face. He hadn't expected it to feel so good to just be with Sara and Katy. For a short time, the hole inside of him was filled. But what about Trevor's journal? The thought leapt out of the depth of his mind like a mugger out of a dark alley. It robbed him of his smile and the light mood he'd been enjoying.

He had to protect Sara and Katy from whatever was loose in Brigston. That meant he was going to have to figure out what was so important in his father's journal.

He gathered what he needed for breakfast, his heart heavy with worry. Thoughts churned in his brain like a fetid whirlpool. Ideas bubbled up to the surface only to be swept down again in the dark waters of his mind, just the shattered remains of wrecked ships. Nothing seemed clear. Part of him wished that he was crazy and none of this was actually happening.

"Whacha making?" Katy's sweet voice shattered his black reverie.

"Flapjacks," he smiled as he helped her scoot a chair over to the counter he was working at.

"What're those?" She tossed her golden tresses back in imitation of her mother.

Grinning, Oz said, "It's what Lumberjacks call pancakes. Now, are you ready to be my assistant?"

With a serious glint in her eyes, Katy nodded.

"Excellent! Okay, first we need a large bowl."

"I'll get it!" She hopped down and had the cupboard open before Oz could take his next breath. Seconds later she came up with a metal mixing bowl held high above her head. "Will this work?"

"Oh, that's perfect!" Oz forgot about his worries, lost in the brilliance of Katy's smile.

In no time, they were so into the task that they didn't notice Sara walk in. She couldn't help but watch and feel her chest tighten with emotion. It was more than she could ask for; Katy and Oz were so good together. Looking at them now just made her want to hold onto the moment forever.

But she wanted to be a part of it more. "What kind of a mess are you two making?" She walked up between them, placing a hand on each of their shoulders.

"We're makin' flipjacks!" Katy beamed.

"Flipjacks, oh, that sounds great." She brushed a hand down her daughter's golden curls.

"Katy's a natural. She can pour batter like nobody's business!" Oz bragged.

"Really? That's wonderful." She rubbed Katy's back.

Taking Oz's cue Katy tipped the mix over letting out only a thin stream. Other than the puddle being narrower on one end it was a perfect pool of batter.

"Wow, that's the best flipjack I've ever seen!" Sara praised.

Katy's little face was aglow with pride and joy. Sara ran her hand over her angel's hair again and said, "I'll set the table and leave the two of you to your cooking."

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

THE GAZEBO

"Katydid, what do you say to Oz for helping you cook breakfast?" Sara asked as she started loading the dishwasher.

Katy launched into his middle, squeezing him with all her might. "Thank you, Ozzie." She grinned up at him.

"You're very welcome," Oz rubbed his hand over her hair.

"Now, it's time for you to go grab your backpack. We have to leave soon." Sara patted Katy's back, scooting her along.

Without realizing it, Oz slid his arm around Sara's waist. She leaned into him, feeling more than complete in his embrace. They watched Katy skip out of the room. For several seconds the rest of the world ceased to exist. The whirring of the dishwasher behind them vanished, the ticking of the wall clock evaporated, even the walls around them blurred out in the simple comfort of the moment. So ordinary, yet so wonderful!

Oz took a breath, then said, "She's a great kid." There were layers upon layers to his words. Sara knew without a doubt that her little angel had done it again. She'd stolen another person's heart. Now, if only I could do the same. She thought about how much closer she was to that goal now that Oz stood with her, now that he had come to her.

"You want to go by Rachel's after we drop Katy off? Then we could all head over to the hospital and see how Paul's doin'." Oz asked as Sara's chest tightened. He wasn't trying to run, to put some space between them. She hadn't admitted it to herself, but she had been afraid that he would want to forget his need, that he would feel awkward in the same room with her after giving in to desire last night.

Hope that he was starting to need her in more ways than just physically pounded through her veins. "Yeah, that sounds good to me."

"Great! Well, I better get my shoes on then." He trotted out of the room.

A few minutes later, they were all piled into Sara's minivan. Out of nowhere, Oz began to sing "The Wheels on the Bus." His deep tenor wavered into the first verse, drawing Katy and then Sara into the song. It died in a gale of laughter when he began to act out each section, honking invisible horns and hushing imaginary babies.

Before they knew it, they were in front of the school. Sara kissed her little girl and said, "You have a good day."

"Ok, bye Momma, bye Ozzie!" She darted off, her blonde locks whipping out behind her.

Oz shook his head after he watched Katy disappear into the old brick building. "Nothing's changed around here. It's exactly as I remember!"

"Not completely. The playground has been expanded and fenced in to prevent..."

Oz chuckled. "To prevent exactly what we did our last year here, sneak back in the woods and make-out."

"If you could call the goofy kissing we did making-out." Sara added with a laugh.

Faking a wince, Oz said, "Hey, I thought I'd been a very talented pre-teen lip-lock artist!"

A loud snort escaped Sara. "Yeah, that's why I had a bruise on my cheek for a week when you leaned forward too fast and smacked me with your forehead."

"Ouch, I'd hoped you would have forgotten about that by now." He gave her a broad grin.

Without either of them knowing it, their hands had slid together, fingers interlocked. Oz watched out the window, just letting the peace wash over him.

Dressed in the deep purple and grass green of Brigston's school colors, a young girl walked toward the crowd of students ambling in front of the old buildings. She practiced her cheerleading moves as she went, bouncing and throwing her arms into different positions. Bobbing along behind her was a little girl a few years younger than the cheerleader. She threw her arms in mocking imitation of the older girl's cheers. Her mouth worked in silent mimicry of her sister. A grin tugged at Oz's lips. It reminded him of how when they were kids, Sara's sister, Amanda Wilson, did everything in her power to make Sara's life miserable.

In the movie reel of his memory, Oz could see her thinking of dozens of ways to ruin Sara's and his dates. It had been more than difficult to keep from laughing at her wild antics and the angry red glare in Sara's dark eyes. Shouts had echoed down the block. Everyone knew when Oz had come calling.

A wave of ice washed over him, shattering his memories into frozen shards. The world tilted, the van seemed to up-end and slide backwards. He turned towards Sara; fear a desperate fist squeezing his heart. As he brought his head around, the Town Square Gazebo jumped in front of his line of sight. Everything shifted once again, tumbling Oz into a deep dark abyss.

***

Rain sliced down like tiny, vicious little blades. It slapped Amanda Wilson full in the face. Her red hair darkened to a dull auburn in seconds. Flinging it over her shoulder like it was a whip, she turned her head up to the needles of water. She let the spray sting her face, absorbing every droplet as if it would be the last.

"Jeez, Mandy, I think I'm gonna catch pneumonia out here and you're just standin' there like it was the greatest shower you'd ever had!" Derrick Ray snapped.

"Well, it was your dumb-ass idea to come down here." Natalie McCullough rushed in to defend her best friend. Taking on a nasal tone, she mimicked Derrick, "Hey guys, let's go hang out behind the school and down some beers!"

"It was better than sittin' on our asses. I didn't see you come up with anything!" He snarled.

"It doesn't matter, we're here now." Patrick Bell stepped between his girlfriend and his sometimes friend before their hate for each other reached its boiling point.

Tired of the heated glares and near constant bickering, Mandy said, "Pat's right. Let's just get out of this rain and think of something else to do." She brushed her rain soaked hair out of her face and looked for some kind of shelter. A short distance away rose the humped shape of the old gazebo. It stood like a phantom pillar of white through the sheets of falling water. "There, we can go into the gazebo." She suggested with a flick of her wrist.

"Yeah, at least it'll be dry." Natalie agreed, rushing off toward the domed structure.

Pat and Mandy hurried after her, leaving a sullen Derrick to bring up the rear. Puddles splashed under their feet as they climbed the steps. A cool darkness filled the gazebo. The twin white benches seemed to float in a deep black sea of shadows.

A finger of dread crawled down Mandy's spine. For a second she could have sworn she saw the darkness shift, almost as if it had taken a breath. Her hair prickled, fear tingled along her skin. She wanted nothing more than to dash back out into the rain and run far away from there as fast as she could.

"Man! It's colder here than it was out in that shit!" Derrick moaned.

"What do you expect, Einstein? You're wet!" Natalie plopped down on one of the benches. She wrung out her hair and clothes, ignoring Derrick's sneer and up raised middle finger.

Turning toward Mandy, he asked, "Now, what?"

A small shiver swept over her. "I think we should just go home. There's nothing to do here, anyway."

"Hell no! I'm not gonna sit around and listen to my parents bitch at me all night!" He threw his hands out, frustration steaming off him like mist.

"Well, Derrick, what do you want to do?" Pat asked. He paced the shadow behind Natalie. Under his dripping clothes, his muscles bunched and coiled as he stalked the length of the bench like a caged lion. Mandy knew he felt the same unease she did.

Derrick spun around and leaned against the railing with an angry thrust. "I don't know, just anything but go home!"

An icy quiet settled around them. The darkness seemed to grow, to swallow all of the light with its silent hunger. Mandy couldn't help the trembles that cascaded through her body. The rain pouring down outside the gazebo was so inviting compared to that ravenous void.

Mandy shook herself. What's wrong with me? There isn't anything to be scared of here. "It's just the dark." She mumbled the rest of her thought.

Is it? The words slid across her cheek like the cold touch of the dead.

A small scream escaped her throat. Before she knew what was going on, she leapt halfway over to Pat and Natalie.

"What? What is it?" Pat asked.

"What the hell is your problem?" Derrick barked.

Mandy pressed her hand to her chest; her heart pounded a primitive beat. "Didn't you hear it?" she panted.

"Hear what?" Natalie pulled Mandy into her arms.

"A voice. It wasn't like anything I've heard before!" Her left hand slipped up to her cheek. The skin was dry and beyond cold. A sharp pain lashed out from the gentle brush of her fingers. "Some... something touched my face."

"Oh girl! You freaked out because a damn bug bumped you!" Derrick laughed.

"It wasn't a bug!" His indifference to her fear sparked instant anger.

"Yeah, and what was it then? The invisible bogeyman?" He wiggled his fingers at her.

No, much worse! The icy voice surrounded them, as if it came from several speakers at once.

Natalie screeched. Derrick gave a shout and jumped back. Mandy was surprised. Other than a sudden gasp of breath Pat didn't react at all.

"Who the fuck said that!" Derrick's question quivered.

Fear! The father of all nightmares!

"This ain't funny! You want me to kick your ass, just come out and show yourself!" he demanded, the words tumbling out of his mouth without any strength.

Gladly. The air froze in Mandy's lungs as the shadows by Derrick condensed. They seemed to grow blacker than the surrounding darkness. In the blink of an eye, they stood in the shape of a tall man.

Are you up for it, little man? A shadow hand beckoned.

"Oh God!" Derrick cried.

He won't save you. The cold voice laughed.

For a long moment, Derrick just trembled in front of the shadow then in a flail of his arms, he sprinted out into the storm.

Yes! A chase! As suddenly as it had appeared, the dark form vanished.

Compelled past reason, Mandy tore away from Natalie and rushed to the head of the stairs. She could barely see Derrick through the pouring rain. He slipped in the wet grass and mud. His screams were a horrible counterpoint to the raging weather.

A tendril of wind slid over her cheek, like the caress of a corpse. Don't worry Mandy, I won't forget you. The voice whispered in her ear.

"Oh God!" she gasped, stumbling back a few steps.

Another scream brought her attention back to Derrick. He'd staggered back to his feet. Lurching on the slippery ground, he rushed away from Town Square. He only managed another ten feet before something struck him from the left. It lifted him over a yard in the air then slammed him to the earth. Mandy heard the sharp whoosh of the breath being knocked out of his lungs.

A shimmer of light, almost like a rainbow glimpsed from the corner of her eye, swept across Derrick's prone body. It wrapped around him, raising his limp form several feet into the air. The strange light started to swing Derrick back and forth, gaining speed with each second. In a blurred toss, it threw him back toward the gazebo.

Mandy closed her eyes. She couldn't bear to watch any longer. But no matter what she did, she couldn't block out the sound. She heard the thing slam Derrick against every object it could find, each bone crushing impact echoing in her head. A sudden thud that she felt as well as heard, forced her eyes to pop open.

Lying at her feet, slumped over the stairs, was Derrick. Blood trickled from his slack lips. A dull emptiness seemed to fill his eyes. A shuddered gasp was the last sound he made.

Natalie screamed! Pat pulled her into his arms and stared wide eyed at Derrick's prone body. Mandy could only stand there, her mouth slack, her mind consumed by fear.

Now for you Mandy!

"God no!" she screamed as a wind colder than the breath of an iceberg rushed over her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

MANDY WILSON

Sara struggled to keep the van from going into the ditch as she pulled over to the side of the road. Panic bubbled up the back of her throat, shortening her breath. She had never been so frightened in her life. Though she had seen Oz like this before, watching him go through it again set icy bands of fear cinching around her heart.

The blood had drained from his face. His lips were a pale rose color, only a shade darker than white. Air rushed in and out of his mouth in ragged pants. Sara was worried that he would start to hyperventilate or pass out at any second. For several minutes she watched him, not daring to take her eyes off him for a second. First she saw his fingers relax, releasing their iron grip from the dashboard. Then his hands fell into his lap as he slumped back into his seat.

For an impossibly long moment, he just sat there, his breaths gradually evening out. Degree by slow degree his body went slack. He was like a human bag, a limp pile of bones and flesh.

"Ah!" He shot forward, his shout echoing in the silence.

"Oz, are you all right? What is it?" Sara put her hand on his shoulder.

He gasped for breath as if he'd just escaped from drowning. His hands flew up to trap his head between his palms.

"Sara, Mandy!" The words were a faint rasp. His whole body shook, fighting to pull himself back into this world.

"It's over now, Oz, just breathe." She drew him to her, hugging him to her chest. He shuddered like a frightened child in her arms.

"Sara," The whisper had her squeezing him closer. "It was your sister. We have to go check on her!"

"Mandy? What happened?" Her voice broke.

Oz's wasn't much smoother as he told her what he had seen. At least with each word he spoke he grew steadier until he almost seemed like himself again. Sara glanced over at the old gazebo and noticed that it had been cordoned off by yellow police tape. Fear sped through her chest. Before Oz could finish the story, she slammed the van into gear. The tires spun out in the loose gravel along the side of the road, leaving a storm of pebbles and dust in their wake.

"Oh, my God! Oz, is she all right?" her voice cracked again. Everything he'd just said left her quaking inside. Her baby sister hurt or worse!

No! Don't think about that! She's fine – she has to be! Sara's mind raced and despite her efforts to think positively, images of her sister battered and beaten, danced through her brain with wild abandon.

"I don't know. I don't think she was hurt seriously, your folks would have called you if she had been." At first Oz's words seemed to drift to Sara from a great distance. But then her mind latched onto call. She had her cell phone on her, she'd just call Mandy and everything would be fine. One handed she dug into her purse and pulled out her phone. It only took two button pushes for her to speed dial her sister. But instead of ringing the line went straight to voicemail.

"Voicemail!" Sara moaned. "She always answers her phone!" She shot Oz a terrified look.

"It's okay, we still don't know anything yet. She may just have turned it off. Hell, I could just be losing my mind and none of that really happened!"

Yeah, this is insane! Do you really believe that he has visions? Seriously, visions, for God's sake, are for science fiction! For a long second, Sara wanted desperately to agree with the small, ugly voice. Wanted it all to be simply a terrible hallucination of an unwell mind, but deep in her heart she knew they weren't. She believed in Oz.

Before she realized it, they were in front of her parents' house. Three cars already filled the large driveway. Oh, it has to be bad if Daddy stayed home from work! She swallowed and sent up a silent prayer.

Oz took her hand in his. The warmth of his touch gave her strength. "Sweetheart, take a deep breath. Remember if Mandy had been hurt badly, you know your folks would have called you last night."

It took a moment for that to really sink in. When he'd said it before, she'd focused so much on calling Mandy, on hearing her voice that she couldn't take it in. Now, it helped. Following Oz's instructions, she took a breath, letting it out in a loud whoosh. A weak smile spread across her lips. "I'm sorry for freaking." She leaned forward and kissed him hard. "Thank you."

"Sweetheart, it was my pleasure." He squeezed her hand.

Sweetheart, he hasn't called me that since he left town. In the middle of all the stress, the thought still made it through, shooting straight to her heart. As they climbed out of the van, she tried to tell herself that it didn't mean anything. Her heart didn't listen.

***

Mandy stared at the ceiling, unwilling to look to see who had just opened her door. She would have closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep if it weren't for the things she saw behind her eyelids. In that dark world, she could see Derrick's broken body. The blood trailed down lifeless lips, the dead eyes continued to stare back at her every time she tried to blink, so she just kept her eyes open. But there wasn't even that tentative escape from the sound of Derrick's shuddered last breath.

"Mandy?" She hadn't expected to hear Sara's voice. She still wanted to be alone, but it was nice to know that her mom had called Sara.

"How are you feeling?" Her voice was closer, almost beside the bed.

"Fine," she didn't feel like talking any more than she felt like closing her eyes.

The bed shifted with Sara's weight, forcing Mandy to look at her older sister. She was surprised. Sara wasn't alone. The one man she'd never expected to see again stood a couple steps behind Sara. She had heard that Oz was back in town. She'd also heard several rumors that he had been seen kissing Sara, but she had never believed them.

Before she could think, she asked, "Oz, what're you doing here?"

He dug his hands in his front pockets, his head dropped to look at his feet. Kicking one of them, he said, "It's complicated." On a long sigh he added, "Very complicated.

"I like complications." She sat up, Oz's presence had chased away some of her dark thoughts.

"We're not here to explain that right now," Sara intoned, sounding every bit the mother she was. "We have to know if you're all right first. How bad were you hurt?"

"It's nothing." Mandy squirmed. She had always hated it when people would fuss over her injuries, especially her big sister. "If you're not going to tell me why he's here, then leave. I don't feel like having company!" She folded her arms under her breasts, her bottom lip working its way into a good pout.

"Mandy, we are just concerned and we need to get some information before we tell you anything." Sara used her most persuasive voice, squeezing Mandy's should to seal the deal.

But the younger woman just turned her head. Mandy had to fight to keep a smile off her face. She'd won many arguments and had gotten her way with this act hundreds of times. She wondered how Sara had never caught on.

"Mandy, this may sound like an odd question, but did your attacker look like a large shadow?" Oz asked, ruining her charade and throwing her back into the gazebo in a flash.

She shivered. Her voice was a faint whisper, frail and weak to her own ears. "Yes."

Oz massaged the back of his neck, his reluctance to go on more than obvious. "Did he seem to disappear when he went after Derrick?"

A hot lump rose to the back of her throat. That's not possible, she tried to reason with him and herself but the words didn't leave her mouth. She swallowed hard, forcing the lump back down. "Y, yes. How..."

"How did I know? That's what's complicated. I'm not sure you'd believe me if I told you. But it is why I need to know what happened to you after Derrick was... was beaten."

Mandy shook her head. "I can't. Don't ask me! I just can't!" She collapsed into Sara's arms. Tears she hadn't been able to shed suddenly tumbled down her cheeks.

"It's all right, honey. Don't think about it." Sara rubbed her hands up and down Mandy's back.

"I'm sorry, Mandy. I didn't mean to upset you." Oz blew out a heavy breath. "I truly am sorry. I wouldn't even have thought to bring it up so soon afterwards if I didn't think it was important. I'll just leave you two alone for a little while, maybe go see what your mom's up to." He turned toward the door.

"Wait." She still held onto Sara though she wiped at her eyes with the heels of her palm. "Please, tell me how you knew."

The sadness in her dark eyes tore at Oz's heart. "Ok, but I don't think you'll believe it." He told her everything starting with the nightmares he had the day before his grandmother's death all the way up to the vision he'd just had less than an hour ago.

"So you see why I need to know what happened after it had, um, beat Derrick. I need to know if it gave any clues to what it is." He finished and was growing more nervous by the second. She continued to stare at him as if he was some bizarre creature dropped in front of her. With a soft cough, he said, "I told you, you wouldn't bele..."

She shook her head. "Oh, I believe you. How could I not? You knew every detail of the attack as if you'd been standing beside me. It's just, that's a lot to take in!"

A smile spread across his lips. "You're telling me! I thought I was losing my mind at first."

"I can see how you'd get that." She laughed. Slowly, her smile faded. "I'm not sure that what I can tell you would be of any help. I can't think about a lot of it, it's just too painful."

"I understand. It's hard, I know." He slumped back against the door, tapping his head on the smooth wood. After a long second, he stood up straight again and said, "All right. Let's just focus on what it said. Do you think you can do that?"

Eyebrows crunched low over her eyes; she shifted on the bed and shrugged. "I guess so. You know most of what it said already. After it attacked me it didn't say much." She shook her head. "There was something," she paused, her eyes focusing inward. "It said something like 'when I'm done with you I'm going to hurt someone close to that man'." She looked up at Oz. "I'm guess he meant you. And when Pete jumped between me and it, it threatened to use us all to give it strength. Then it disappeared in a weird flash, like a light-bulb burning out the second you flick the switch."

"Is that all?" He prowled the room, his shoulders working up and down as if he was a steam engine. His eyes kept sliding over to look at Sara with each pass.

He's worried about Sara. Mandy thought and then noticed him pause for a few seconds when he locked eyes with her big sister. And there's definitely something to those rumors floating around town. "Yes, that's all. As I said, I didn't think I'd be able to help."

"You helped more than you could know. I was sure that the answer wouldn't be found here; I just hoped I would get lucky. And I wanted to make sure you were all right."

"What're you going to do now? I don't think it's gonna come after me again, at least not anytime soon. But I don't want it to hurt anyone else." She darted a glance at Sara, positive Oz would read her signal. She didn't know if she was right but she was willing to bet that the man the thing had spoken of was Oz and that the next to be attacked would be her sister. She didn't like that at all.

Oz gave her a short nod and said, "I'm going to have to read my father's journal until I find the answer."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

SECOND WIND

The wind howled. The old house groaned, buffeted by rain and the angry breeze. The wind slipped into the fallen building, dust and pieces of wood scattered before it like heralds of a long dead king. It attacked an ancient table, lifting it high into the air. The vicious wind hurled the table at the closest wall. It shattered, tumbling to the floor in a heap of kindling.

But the destruction wasn't enough. The wind's rage couldn't be sated with one article of furniture. It swirled into a corner where the shadows were the deepest. For several seconds, it twisted and spun in the corner, gathering strength with each rotation. When it reached forces equal to that of the storm outside it stopped dead still. The dust was flung to the far side of the room. The wind vanished, dragging the shadows in on themselves. The darkness gathered and rose to his full height.

Damn! How can they continue to interfere? They stopped me from killing the girl! I couldn't even hurt that stupid boy when he got in the way! Knocking him back took too much energy! If it weren't for those three always interfering, killing him wouldn't have slowed me down! ARH! A shadow fist slammed into the wall. Plaster crumbled, the house moaned as if it were in pain.

The darkness let loose his anger. Destruction waged through the old house, walls cracked, doors ripped down, and the last pieces of the old forgotten furniture turned into splinters. The darkness raged for hours until all that was left of his strength was devoted to holding himself together.

Slumped on the floor, a formless mass, the darkness fumed. I have to stop him! He can't read the rest of the book! If he learns to do what his father did... He shaped a fist to bash the ground, losing more of his mass with the attack.

For a long time, he lay in silence, his mind bent to the task. The winds of the house, the prisoners that the darkness kept there, swished past him. Whispers of overpowering him in his current state floated around the room. The need to enforce his control over the house sparked a thought, a dark realization. The three are getting weaker! They didn't get in the way until after I killed the girl's fool boyfriend! A bark of cold laughter cracked out. The winds died down, the whispers dropped at the sound of the hate in the cruel noise.

I know what to do! With that, the darkness shot away from the wall, vanishing into a dance of arctic wind. A strange howl crashed through the house. It was a sound of pain and anguish. It reached levels that had all the living creatures within a mile of the house hunkered down in fear.

Like a twisted concert from the bowels of hell, shrieks reached up one by one. The old building was filled with them. The opus of agony slashed into the night. A dull rainbow light shimmered in sync with the twisted cries. Each blast shone through the broken windows of the house, adding to the storm's violence.

The wind stopped, the lights and screams disappeared with it. He dropped to the floor, black shadows swirling into his form. He stood, his cloak of darkness draped over him with all its power. If he had lips, they would have been spread wide in a vicious smile. MMM! That was delicious! Now, that I've fed, it's time to get to work! He flicked out a shadow wrist. Like a chilled breath a wind almost as cold as his own, wrapped around him. It rubbed against his form, an anxious pet more than eager for its master's affections.

My first, so tasty! The way you murdered your family was so beautiful! The music of their cries was a masterpiece! The wind seemed to purr at his praise. Now, I have something for you to do! Some unfinished business I need you to take care of!

***

"Sara, I, um, I..." Oz shifted his weight in the seat.

"What is it?" She glanced at him out of the corner of her black-brown eye. With only that small sliver of her eye, Oz could see the amount of trust she had in him. Why couldn't she have trusted me that much when we were engaged? The thought distracted him from what he was going to say.

"Oz, what is it? What's wrong?" A heavy thread of concern wove through her voice.

He snapped out of his painful reminisces. "I don't know exactly. I have a strange feeling that we need to get to Paul right now."

She turned in her seat to face him. Mouth open and her eyes wide circles, her expression hid none of her fear. "You had another vision?"

"No, it's just a feeling. Something isn't right." He heaved a long breath. "Remember what I said about seeing my father at Maw's funeral? Well, he said that they only had a few more before they would get sent after you, Sara. Except they haven't killed the people they've gone after."

"But what about Ed and Derrick, they were killed." She had to fight to keep her eyes on the road. She wanted to see Oz's face. Since they had left her parents' house, he had been quiet, brooding.

"Yes, they were killed, but don't you see? They weren't the ones being attacked; they were just on the side like some twisted version of a consolation prize." Nervous and anxious, he drummed his fingers against the door's windowsill.

"And you think what Mandy said about them hurting someone else means they're going after Paul?" Sara asked.

"I guess. I honestly don't know." He rubbed his hands over his face. "This all seems crazy to me!" He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "I have this feeling in my gut that says Paul's in danger."

"Ok, then let's go over there. I figure by now Rachel will already be headed that way." She pulled into a driveway and quickly reversed back onto the street going the opposite direction.

Silence stretched between them like a canyon. Oz could feel it settling in, pushing them apart. It tightened his chest with emotion. He opened his mouth but it stole all the words from his tongue. Every second seemed to widen the gulf between them. I have just found her again; I can't let this madness take her away! He commanded himself.

His hands slipped across the seats and wrapped around hers. Sara looked up at him, the light deepening in her dark eyes. He smiled and turned his head back toward the road. The silence weakened, the space between them disappeared, leaving them in a comfortable quiet.

The trip to the hospital seemed to take less time. Before they knew it, they were parked and working their way up to Paul's room.

"Sara, Oz! Over here!" Rachel called out.

"How's Paul? Have you seen him yet?" Sara asked as she rushed over to her friend. She somehow suppressed her worry and gave Rachel a comforting squeeze. But despite her brave face, fear flowed through her veins like a drug, kicking her pulse up another notch with every second that passed. The thoughts that Oz put into her mind, haunted her, rattling their chains of dark tidings.

"I haven't been in yet." Rachel replied, snapping Sara back to the moment at hand.

"Well, we better not leave him waiting any longer." Sara smiled and hoped it didn't look as strained as it felt.

Arms entwined, Sara and Rachel led the way into Paul's room. Oz walked behind them, his eyes dancing everywhere like a bored child's. Or someone expecting an attack, Sara thought as she let Rachel be the first to reach Paul's bed.

A robust nurse was clearing away Paul's breakfast tray. Her eyes sparkled with good cheer. "I spoke to Doctor Stevens a moment ago. He said that you'll get to take Mr. Collins home today."

"That's great!" Rachel said, pulling Paul's good hand to her cheek.

"The doctor will be in shortly to give the discharge." The nurse said as she swept out.

"So, how you feeling?" Oz asked. Sara noticed that except for his nervous scan of the room, he looked at ease.

"Other than the team of gremlins banging around in my head, I feel fine." The tight smile that he forced onto his face spoke volumes to the contrary. Sara knew he was trying to keep Rachel from worrying more than she already was.

"I bet you're as anxious to escape this place as we are to get you home where you belong." Oz chuckled. It didn't sound quite right, just a little weak. Sara hoped she was the only one to notice.

"Yeah, you can't imagine what kind of torture they put you through her. Waking you up every couple of hours to ask you the same ridiculous questions over and over then tell you to go back to sleep you need your rest! And to top it all off they shove some of the foulest food in your face! If it wasn't for the Jell-O cup I would have passed out from hunger!" he laughed.

Though Paul's joke was only mildly humorous, they all laughed with him, glad that he was feeling good enough to be his jocular self.

"It's always nice to see such happy face when I enter a room." Doctor Stevens grinned. Flipping pages on a chart, he stepped over to the side of the bed. "So, Paul, you ready to check out?"

"You better believe it, doc!" Paul rose up further on the bed, gritting his teeth to keep from wincing in pain.

"Have you experienced any dizziness? Nausea?" Pulling a small light from his breast pocket, the doctor shone it in each of Paul's eyes.

"No," Paul replied.

"Good, good. All right, how many fingers am I holding up?" He waved three fingers in front of Paul.

"Three."

"Good." A breeze fluttered through the blinds. Oz felt the hairs prickle along the back of his neck, a chill danced across his skin. He lost all interest in the doctor as his stomach clenched with unease. Something was coming, what, he couldn't tell. I've got to protect Paul and the girls. I can't let whatever is happening hurt anyone again!

"Hello, I'm Max. I hear you're going home." A voice cut into Oz's thoughts. It took him a second to realize that doctor Stevens had already left and had been replaced by a young tawny haired orderly.

"I bet you're more than ready to be outta here." The man was all smiles. His small mouth stretched to impossible lengths, pushing his cheeks up into his eyes to use his entire face. The way his hand brushed through his hair spoke of old habit as he quickly went about assisting Paul into a wheelchair.

"You got that right." Paul managed with a tight smile of his own, pain nearly hidden behind that controlled expression.

"Well, let's get you on your way then." Max said guiding Paul out of the room and down the hall.

Though everything went smoothly and no hint of danger could be seen, Oz felt a hot ball of fear churn in his stomach. On the ride down the elevator, he couldn't give the conversation around him more than a fraction of his attention. His mind kept jumping back to the breeze that had rattled through the blinds. It pulled at him, some little thing about it worried him but he didn't know what.

They stepped outside into the humid spring day. A thin vale of clouds blanketed the sky. Oz could smell another rain on the air, could feel its moist heat press down on him.

The breeze was cold, winter cold! The thought slammed into his gut like a fist. He couldn't breathe. The wind should have been heavy and dull with humidity, not sharp and light as a scalpel. It meant trouble. Trouble Oz wasn't sure he could stop.

"I'll go bring the car around," Rachel said. She hesitated, reluctant to let go of her husband's hand.

Despite understanding what she was feeling, Oz wanted to shout at her to hurry up. The sooner they got Paul away from there the sooner Oz could breathe easy. When he thought he couldn't wait another second, Paul squeezed Rachel's hand and gave her a bright smile. She kissed his cheek once more before hurrying away.

Watching her trot off, Oz noticed the trees lining the far side of the parking lot whip back and forth. He could almost hear the wind rattling the leaves. It seemed to dance there as if it were gathering strength. A trickle of white-hot fear pumped through Oz's heart.

Like a wild animal, the wind leapt from the trees scattering torn leaves and broken branches before it. The debris grew to swirling mini-cyclones in a mad rush toward the hospital. A car was rocked on its suspension by the winds passing. The vehicle blared horns and flashed lights in angry protest. The alarm only seemed to entice the breeze. It began to howl, drowning out the car.

"Oh my God!" Max's eyes were wide circles, his small mouth a near comical O.

Oz couldn't be distracted though. He turned back to the parking lot. What am I going to do? He frantically thought. The closer the wind came the more vicious its howl grew. It was a savage roar, a sound of bloodthirsty hunger.

Oz thought he saw it bound up onto the sidewalk like a pouncing lion. He didn't have any more time to think, just act. He dashed in between the rushing wind and his friends. He gulped a breath of air a second before it hit.

A blow like a speeding truck slammed into him. All the air was blasted from his lungs as he crashed to the pavement. A fiery bolt of pain blazed outward from the back of his head. A dance of light swirled before his eyes. He heard a ringing bounce around inside his skull. Nausea rolled through him as he struggled for breath.

Slowly each gasp he took worked air back into his starved lungs. With the return of oxygen, the bells in his head quieted down to a dull murmur. The first thing he could hear was the howl of the wind. It was no longer a savage cry but a wail of pain.

Hands grabbed Oz's shoulders, helping him back up into a sitting position. Sara sat on his left, Max on his right, their eyes riveted on the wind. It circled them twice, a high-pitched moan marking its progress. In a puff, they were buffeted by the debris it had carried. Then a thin stream of wind slipped passed Oz's ear.

Hurt! Only boy not boy hurt before! My music, beautiful music! I hate boy not boy!

The voice was low but Oz could recognize its crazed wail anywhere. He just couldn't figure out what that spirit had to do with everything going on now.

"What the hell was that?" Max asked his voice more than a little shaky.

"I'm not sure and you wouldn't believe me if I told you." Oz mumbled, touching his hand to the back of his head.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

DOUGLAS GREEN

"I wish you'd had someone at the hospital look at that." Sara said handing Oz a bag of ice.

"I'm fine, it's only a little bump on the head. Anyway, I'm sure Paul didn't want to wait there another minute." Pressing the bag to his head, he suppressed the urge to hiss against the pain.

"Man, if you're really hurt I wouldn't care if we spent all day at the hospital." Paul stated. He slouched on the sofa, his leg propped up with several pillows. Rachel hovered beside him. Ever since they'd walked in the door, she couldn't seem to stop fussing over her husband. Though Paul wasn't one to be pampered, he kept quiet and smiled.

"It's no big deal, really. At the moment, we have bigger problems." He waved off their concerns.

"Like what the hell attacked you today. And I'm sure whatever it was it wasn't 'just a really strong ass gust of wind' like you told the orderly it was." Paul leaned forward. "Shoot, even ol' Max didn't believe you. He just didn't want to deal with any part of it."

"Yeah, I heard him say it was way too weird for him and that he'd just as soon forget it ever happened." Sara slid her hip up on the arm of Oz's chair. No one remarked on how close they were or how intimate they'd been acting toward each other. But Oz saw the way Rachel's eyebrows arched when he took Sara's hand.

"I wish it could be that easy for me," Oz mumbled to himself. Raising his voice for the rest of the room, he continued, "Well, it's best he does forget. I don't want any more people involved in this. There are already too many lives at risk."

"I'm with you on that. I still feel messed up about Ed." Paul closed his eyes. The tight line of his mouth spoke of the effort it took to put the wreck out of his mind. He swallowed hard, the gulp loud with emotion. "Okay, Oz, you said you'd tell me what is going on, so spill it!" His voice was steady but Oz could hear a hint of the pain he was still holding in.

Oz shifted, his hand rubbed the back of his neck with unease. Where to begin? How do I explain something so insane? He looked out the window hoping the view would give him the words. It didn't seem to get any easier every time the told the story. No matter how many people believed him, he still felt like it was all some kind of twisted nightmare. Fear that he was delusional ran through his mind. If only one person told him he was crazy, the world might collapse around him leaving him strapped to a bed in a mental hospital. The hollow clang of metal doors locking behind him echoed in his ears.

Sara squeezed his shoulder. The gentle touch filled his chest with warmth. She believed in him, she more than believed in him. She trusted him. Suddenly the words were tumbling off his tongue like the water over Niagara Falls. Paul leaned further forward as Oz talked, his eyes wide and interested.

Unlike the silence Oz had expected, Paul said, "Well, I'd say that is a very big problem. What're we gonna do about it?"

Oz shot up in his seat, nearly knocking Sara off the arm of his chair. "You believe me?"

"Of course. I know I didn't lose control of my truck, and that something sure as hell tried to attack us today."

"But why us, Oz?" Rachel asked, her hand resting on Paul's shoulder. Oz watched her fingers grip and release over and over, kneading her husband's arm.

Oz shook his head. "I just don't know. I think it has something to do with me. All I know for sure is that my father's journal may have some answers."

"Well, then let's get it and find out what we need to know. Where is it?" Paul asked.

"At Paw's, I left it..." Cold washed over him as if he'd been dunked in a bucket of ice water. The room shook, the lights dimmed and blazed in his eyes. His stomach flipped back and forth like a beached fish. Then suddenly, he tumbled back into darkness.

***

Doug looked at the mess his tractor laid in, and sighed. It was hopeless, and if it wasn't a total wreck, he probably couldn't have forced himself back on it anyway. The sight that truly dropped his spirits was the torn earth in the wake of the ruined machine. When he'd been fighting against whatever had taken control of the tractor he hadn't noticed the zigzag path that they had taken. The neat and orderly rows were now a wild mass of turned soil. It looked almost like someone had used his field as the paper in an EKG scan. The brain it would have belonged to would have to be the largest in the world! Doug mused.

He gave another sigh and spoke to the empty air. "Well, it won't get done if I don't get started."

He knew he was going to have to call his friend Frank Clark to come over to help him. I also need to get with him about Ed's death. I know he's probably takin' it pretty hard. Heading back to the house, he wondered what he would tell Frank and his son when they arrived with their wrecker. He dialed the number for his friend and figured playing it by ear was his best option.

"'Ello," Frank coughed.

"Hey Frank, it's Doug. Would you be able to bring your wrecker over and help me out with my tractor?"

"Sure, no problem. I'll be right over."

"Great, thank you. See you then."

"See ya." When he heard Frank click off, Doug breathed a sigh of relief. He still didn't know what to tell his friend, but at least he didn't have to come up with something over the phone.

A short time later, Doug watched the wrecker bounce up his drive. He walked out to meet the two men. Frank hopped down from the cab, his movements still spry despite his age and the hint of arthritis in his walk. His son, Frank Junior, was a younger version of his father, from his copper colored hair down to his size thirteen feet.

FJ dusted his New York baseball cap off on his leg and smiled. "How you doin' Doug?"

"I'm holdin' up. Would you two like a cup of coffee? I just made a fresh pot." He shook the younger man's hand.

"I wouldn't mind one," Frank Sr. said and squeezed Doug's shoulder. Doug had no trouble reading the tight line of his friend's mouth. It told him that Frank was hurting, but that he knew Ed was in a better place and that life goes on.

"Have you spoken to Maeve? How are she and the kids doin'?" Doug asked.

"Me and the missus stopped over there last night. They're hanging in, but I'm sure glad that Mike came home from college. I know Maeve and the two younger boys really need him right now." Frank replied, kicking the dirt drive with the toe of his boot.

"I know whacha mean. If Oz hadn't been here, I don't know what I would've done." Doug agreed.

Frank bobbed his head. "My point exactly."

Doug scratched his chin then looked up at the house. "Well, didn't I say something about coffee? Why don't we head in and take a cup."

"Sounds good to me. I sure could use one." Frank patted Doug on the back.

As he led them in, Doug let up a grin and added, "Hey, I think Oz bought some muffins the other day. We can have a bite while we drink our coffee."

"I never turn down free food," FJ chuckled.

With a plate of muffins in front of them and a cup in hand, they sat at the kitchen table. They ate in silence for a few minutes. Doug worried over what he would tell them. Every thought he came up with just didn't make sense. Frank set down his empty cup and brought the moment Doug had been dreading to light. "So, Doug, we've been friends for a long time but in all those years this is the first time you've needed my wrecker. What kind of damage could you have done to a tractor to need one now?"

Rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, he frantically hunted for an idea. "Well, see, um..." He took a long moment, the silence turning awkward. For a second his mind was terribly blank. He was scared he'd be stuck like that, his mouth half open and his brain empty of thought. Then like a kick to the teeth inspiration came to him. "Well, you'd havta see it to believe it. C'mon, I'll show you."

Without a word more, he led them out to the field. Doug held his breath. The tractor and land looked like a larger mess than it had at dawn. The only sound he could hear was the heavy thump-thump of his heart. The silence stretched, then crouched over them as if it was a savage beast readying for a kill. Doug almost prayed that it would be a swift death.

"Holy cow! What the hell happened?" Frank's voice was like a cannon blast in the empty field.

"Man, what kinda person could vandalize your property like this?" FJ shook his head. His words lifted Doug's spirits, vandals! Why didn't I think of that?

Forcing a frown onto his face, he shook his head and said, "I don't know. I just don't know."

"The world's just goin' to hell in a hand-basket! I'm so sorry this happened to you." Frank patted Doug's back and continued. "Does Sheriff Neman have any ideas on who could have done this?"

Doug's tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth. Panic gripped his throat, why is it so hard to make something up? Damn it, it's because you're not inclined to lie! Breathe, it's a simple question, it shouldn't be hard to answer! After another frantic rattling of his brain, he decided to take the middle ground and give a half-truth. "Well, actually I didn't report it. I figured what clues there might have been got washed away by last night's rain. And I'd just be wasting Todd's and my time."

"I see your point, but damn man, I can't believe someone would do this to you." Frank shook his head again.

"Neither can I, man, neither can I." Doug tucked his hands into his front pockets and shrugged.

"Well, all that's left for it is to try to get this as cleaned up as we can. C'mon Dad, let's get started." FJ turned away from the downed tractor, his air suddenly all business.

Like his son, Frank went to work with calm determination. In almost no time at all they had the tractor to rights and pulled into the barn, out of the way for Doug to get it up and running again later.

"Thank guys, you don't know how much I appreciate this." He shook both men's hands.

"What're friends for?" Frank patted him on the back. As he climbed into the wrecker, he asked, "Are you still comin' over tomorrow to play cards?"

"I'll be there. Wouldn't want to miss a chance to skin you guys again." He nodded.

"Ha, that's big talk, we'll see if you can deliver." Leaning out the window, he said, "You could bring along that grandson of yours. The missus and I have only seen him once since he got back into town."

"I'll see what I can do. Thanks again."

"No sweat. See you later."

"Later." He waved after them for a few seconds then headed out to the field.

It didn't look as bad as it had when the tractor had lain turned over in it. A couple hours work and it would look like nothing had ever happened there. Well, I best see if I can get the small tractor hooked up to the plow. Instead of walking off, he stood there, waiting, for what he didn't know.

The bowl of the sky was outlined in crystalline blue, the center a thin strip of gray clouds. Nothing seemed out of order. Doug still waited. A cold breeze rippled across the loose earth making it dance. Doug watched it for a long moment. Ever since the wind had attacked him, he was jumpy whenever a gust passed by. He didn't trust this small breeze especially. Something more than his skittish nerves held him in place.

Mine! For a second Doug thought he had imagined the harsh voice. His heart kicked up; the smooth thump-thump now was a pounding thudthud-thudthud.

He didn't know what he was going to do. The last time he'd faced this, he'd had his Maggie's help. This time he couldn't feel her nearby, this time hope lay very low in his chest.

The wind scooped up a pile of soil, and before Doug could turn away, the earth came hurtling through the air. It slapped him in the face like an angry, damp, grit covered fist. It filled his nose and fell into his mouth. The dirt scraped his tongue, tore at his lips as the wind pushed more into his mouth. He couldn't breathe. The only sound he could hear was the tight jackhammer of his heartbeat.

His fingers dug frantically at the soil gag. He tried to force it out of his mouth, spitting with all his might. But the earth kept finding its way back in. He couldn't close his mouth, couldn't clamp his lips shut against the assault. He tried to swallow it down, desperate for the glorious taste of oxygen. Nothing worked. There was just another blob of dirt in the last one's place. His lungs burned. It felt like he'd been sucking on a lighter for the last half hour. As he collapsed to his knees, a faint music filled his head. Soft and sweet, it reminded him of his dear, sweet Maggie. I'll be with you soon, my love!

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

RESCUE AND INSTINCTS

"NO!" Unlike before, the vision didn't linger. Oz shot up like a rocket, his feet already rushing for the door.

The world flashed by, a blur of green and gray. He was at the driver's side of Sara's van before the others had a second to react. The door wouldn't open. He yanked with all his strength again and again, but it refused to respond. A gentle touch grazed his shoulder. He whirled around, his eyes wide with a kaleidoscope of emotions. Fear and guilt the most dominate.

Sara held up her keys, pressing the electronic lock release. With only a nod, Oz took the keys and climbed into the van. Sara slid into the seat beside him as he started the engine. He opened his mouth then closed it again. Though he was reluctant to endanger her, he didn't have time to argue. And part of him was glad that he didn't have to face it alone.

He drove the winding road from Paul's at a speed that the van wasn't meant for. At the first sharp turn, he felt the wheels on the right side lose traction. The van groaned, tilting toward Oz's side of the road.

For a dangerously long moment, they hung like that. Sara's hands were locked in a death grip on the door handle, her knuckles white with the strain. Oz just knew that he was going to lose control; they were going to flip! Then with a loud screech and a jarring bounce they were level again.

A startled laugh burst from Sara. But her hands didn't loosen their strangle hold on the door handle. In the back of Oz's mind a little voice screamed, you'll do nobody any good if you have an accident! The worry beating in his chest just wouldn't let him listen. He had to get to his grandfather before it was too late – before he lost another loved one.

When he pulled into his grandfather's driveway, sweat beaded off his forehead. His hands were slick with it, making the steering wheel almost as hard to hold onto as an eel. Every bump and low spot in the dive had him fighting to keep the van on the road. At the barn, he turned into the yard instead of heading to the house. The tires jerked hard with the change in terrain. Oz hissed a curse and doubled his battle for control of the vehicle. With gritted teeth, he forced the van on.

Before the field was in view, Oz could already see dust swirling in the air. Please God! He prayed, his mind too frantic to put all the words into the plea.

His heart leapt into his throat. Doug lay on his side, a mound of dirt piled on his head and upper chest. Oz slammed his foot to the floor squeezing out every ounce of speed he could get. Yet, it was as if they had been thrown out of time. The field inched toward them, drawing out each second, stretching time like a giant elastic band. Though he desperately wanted to reach his grandfather, Oz was afraid of what might happen when that band broke.

At the edge of the field, he threw the van into park and leapt out. Focused, he ran like a man possessed, putting all that he had into reaching Doug. A shriek echoed from the field as he neared his grandfather's side. Clots of earth struck him like tiny fists. He dove for his grandfather, ignoring the assault.

"Please, oh my God! Please!" Wild with fear, he tore at the dirt piled on top of Doug. "Oh God! He's not moving! C'mon Paw, don't give up! I'm here!" The rain of fresh earth he hurled behind him overpowered the clots the wind threw.

Mine! Boy not boy can't take! Icy wind blasted into Oz's back. The blow was like being the ball in a grand-slam homerun. The air whooshed out of his lungs as it flattened him onto his grandfather. The world seemed far away, the sound of his desperate gasps came to him as if through a padded wall. A dull keening bounced around inside his head. It grew sharper with every second, tearing away the padding muffling his brain.

Slowly, the noise tore all the way through, stabbing Oz with its blade like shrillness. Gritting his teeth against the piercing cries of the wind, Oz renewed his efforts to free his grandfather.

You! Boy not boy has stolen my music too many times! Can't have my music anymore! Oz tensed. The wind howled like a savage beast. He hoped he could stay up this time.

***

Ozzie's here, sweetheart, hold on! It's not your time yet, just hold on! The gentle melody of Maggie's voice cut through the thick fog filling Doug's oxygen starved mind. A soft touch caressed his cheek, giving him strength he didn't know he had. He started thrashing against the heavy dirt pinning him down. There was someone digging at it from above. Feeling the movements, the hope that had nearly died in his chest flared to life brighter than the noonday sun. I won't let it win! The bastard isn't goin' to take another life!

Something shifted over his left hand. Doug threw all his effort into pushing against the soil there. For several seconds nothing happened. The fire in his burning lungs seemed to spread throughout his body, draining his strength. His arm began to feel like Jell-O, almost too weak to push at the dark walls of his prison. Then suddenly the earth gave and a large weight tumbled away.

His hand broke through! As if he could breathe with the appendage, he flexed his fingers in the warm air. Someone grabbed his hand and pulled up on it. The mud still was too heavy. Summoning every ounce of strength he had left, he worked his right arm over to his free hand. Maddeningly slow, it inched upward, toward the sky and the person clawing at the piled soil.

A waft of air rushed down, smacking Doug full in the face. It was stale with the taste of earth but he gulped it in as if it was the purest in the world. The fire in his lungs cooled one slow aching degree after another. At first, he was so overwhelmed with the delicious oxygen; he didn't notice that he was being hauled out of the mud.

Though a veil of gray clouds blocked the sun, Doug's eyes squinted against the faint light. Colors swam in front of him, taking shape grudgingly. He heard his grandson's voice before he could make out his face.

"Paw, oh thank God! Paw!" He was crushed against Oz's chest. "Are you all right?"

He could only cough. His throat felt scorched by the fire that had blazed in his lungs. After his coughing subsided, he managed to croak out, "I'm all right now."

Before Oz had a chance to ask anything else, an ear-wrenching shriek sliced out over the field. Doug snapped his head toward the noise. Eyes wide as saucers, he watched the wind tear up his field. Great mounds of earth flew through the air. They hurtled toward them like whistling missiles. Then less than five feet from Oz's back, the mounds smashed against something, flattening them like they had struck a huge wall. Doug knew that it was his Maggie stopping them. For a moment, he could almost swear that he saw her standing in front of him again.

You! The master hates you! You protect boy not boy! Steal my music! MY MUSIC! The voice screamed, sounding more insane than just a second ago. The heaps of mud fell back to the earth. The wind howled over the ruined land, scattering dirt in its wake. It slammed into the invisible barrier. Doug felt the impact all the way to his bones. But the wind wasn't stopped! It barreled on, slamming Oz in the chest.

Sara screamed. Doug lurched to his feet, ignoring her even as he noticed she was there. All that mattered was his grandson. Oz lay on his back, his face twisted with anger as he fought against the wind. Though Doug couldn't see it, he could tell that the unnatural attacker was trying to strangle his grandson.

He was frozen in place. His heart pounded in his ears, flooding him with fear. What could he do, how could he fight something that wasn't there? The question twisted his gut into knots.

"Help him! Damn it, do something!" Sara's demands pushed him into action. He threw his arms at the thing attacking Oz. His hands passed through it. It was as insubstantial as he'd feared.

Oz, you are a key. Just listen to your instincts. A voice Doug wasn't sure he recognized spoke beside him.

An odd light flashed in Oz's panicked eyes. They shifted to a calm see green and seemed to glow with understanding. He stopped thrashing against the wind. Slowly, he opened his arms wide to except it, as if to draw it in. Tendrils of air lashed out to all sides of Oz.

No! My beautiful music! The crazed voice bellowed, more wind snapped back and forth.

"Not anymore!" Oz hissed and squeezed his arms closer to his chest. A howl of agony shot out like a cannon blast of pain. It faded off as if it had fallen a long way into oblivion.

The world quieted. The storm like rage vanished. The silence that spread over the field was almost as unnatural as the wind had been. Oz trembled on the ground for a few seconds after everything calmed. Sara dropped to his side and hugged his head to her chest. Rocking back and forth, she whispered, "Thank God! Oh Oz, I couldn't bare it if I lost you again!"

"If you let me breathe, you won't have to worry about it," He laughed, holding her just as tight.

The nerves that had tightened all of Doug's muscles into knots crumbled into laughter. Before long, they were all laughing in relief and thanks. Helping Oz back to his feet, they tried to dry their eyes. A few soft chuckles continued to roll out. Doug began to think they would never stop laughing. Then a soft voice cut through their mirth. We don't have much time, sweetheart.

"Maw!" Oz stared at the smoke like image of Margaret that had appeared beside them.

Standing to her left and right were two forms; one tall and foggy, the other a smoky haze like Margaret. Doug's vision blurred, tears misted his eyes. His dear heart, the love of his life, stood before him. And the daughter he'd lost returned to him after all these years. The tears flowed down his cheeks, when he realized they couldn't stay, that they would be gone again from his life.

A sad smile touched Maggie's lips. Don't worry love. We will be together again.

But now we don't have time to talk. Doug realized who the third spirit was. The voice he had half recognized earlier, Oz's father, stepped to the forefront.

"Why?" Oz demanded.

Son, we've been on borrowed time. We've only been able to stay as long as we have because of this town. You have to save them.

"How? I don't know what to do." Oz strained against the desire to shake his father.

You have the answer; just follow your instincts! He raised his hand. Waving good-by, his form scattered on the breeze.

I'm so sorry we couldn't be here for you, Ozzie! Remember I've always loved you! I'm so proud! Catherine brushed her hand over Oz's cheek, fading away like his father had. A single tear spilled from his moist eyes.

Be strong, I love you all. Margaret's form disappeared, leaving the three of them alone in the ruined field.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

THE JOURNAL

July 19

They said I was screaming and thrashing around again last night. Like always, the doctor came to see me about it this morning. I told him that I couldn't remember the nightmare, same as before. But I lied. This time was different. This time I did remember the dream. If I close my eyes, I can still see it. It's hard, but I'm trying not to blink. I know that if my earlier nightmares were as bad as this one, I'm glad I can't remember them.

It started on Mr. Green's farm. Catherine was there. Beautiful, a rose budding in mid-winter, not meant long for this world. The sun was a blaze of yellow glinting like gold in her honey blonde hair. So perfect I couldn't believe she was mine.

She turned to me, doing that hair flip thing she does that I love. She smiled and rubbed her hand over her swollen belly. I never knew how beautiful she'd look carrying my child, my son! "He's going to be just like his father!" She said. I could feel as well as see the love and pride in her eyes.

Before I could reply, a cold shadow stretched out over us. Blood, I can still see the blood! First one drop trickled from Catherine's left eye like a spilled tear. Then a stream of crimson flowed down the side of her face.

It was horrible. I couldn't stand to look yet I wasn't able to turn away or move to her. I was frozen, stuck in place as if a giant hand had reached down from heaven to hold me there.

"She's mine now! You couldn't save her just like you can't save your son! I'll enjoy his spirit even more than hers!" The wind hissed in my ears.

I knew the voice. It has haunted me since I first came to Brigston. My Gran never warned me, never told me about it before. I was unarmed when it came for me. I had to protect Catherine and my son. How could I have been so wrong? I never meant to hurt them. I hope they are safe now that I'm in this place. I hope that at least something good came from my mistake.

Oz rubbed his eyes. Most of Trevor's entries in the journal weren't like this one, not as clear and rational. No most were just a series of rambling monologues that went nowhere, a perfect example of his insanity. The only thing Oz had managed to learn so far was a little more about his father and mother. There was only one entry out of all of them that was of any real help. Trevor had dedicated an entire page to describing the lesson his Gran had taught him on blocking spirits or wanderers as she had called them.

Not what I was looking for, Oz sighed. His eyes burned, grit scratched them under his lids. Alone in his bedroom, he tugged his shirt off and stretched. He'd been reading for hours and felt more like he had worked on one of his sites instead of sat in a chair the whole time.

Pacing from the window to the desk to the bed, he tried to think – to understand – the clues his father gave him. There's the reference to they, he said that they were the trapped spirits. But more than once, he hints at something darker, something worse! But what is he talking about?

He shoved his hands into his hair. Confusion rattled around inside his head. It mocked him, teasing him with crazy riddles and half-formed hints. The answers he'd hoped for were as far away now as they had been that morning. Further!

He continued to pace. Bed, window, desk, bed, window, desk; he made the circuit three more times lost in his worries. Just follow your instincts. His father's voice floated into his mind. He stopped in front of the desk and said, "My instincts? My instincts, they're telling me to keep reading."

Plopping back down in his chair, he picked up Trevor's journal. With a deep breath, he flipped to the next entry and dove in.

I didn't take the pills again. I think they make me forget, forget too much. I can't block the spirits any more. Is it something I forgot? Or are they stronger now?

I dreamt of the house again last night. Dark, so dark! All I can see is the mist, the trapped spirits. How can the house hold them all? So many, the shadow has stolen so many!

I can hear their cries. I can always hear them. The shadow is near. I can't see it but I know he's close. He wants me. He tells me lies to trick me. To add me to his collection! He calls to me, lies dripping from his tongue. "Come, come join us. Come be with Catherine. All you have to do is come to us and you'll be reunited!"

I feel a pull, like something has a hook in me and is tugging on it. I know at that moment that I'm just another spirit, another fish to reel in for the shadow. I almost give in, almost accept his call. It would be easier, easier than living the life I've found myself in. But then I hear her voice. So sweet, like a nightingale's song. Catherine cries to me, "Don't listen! Don't let him win!"

Though I could never tire of hearing her, her voice now worries me. Scares me to the bottom of my soul. For her to talk to me here she would have to be dead. I can't believe that. She's too bright, too full of life to be dead.

I fight against the shadow's pull. I have to go back to prove to myself that she's still alive! As I run from the house, I hear the darkness call after me. "You can't escape! My power grows every day. I'll have you too!"

When I woke, I shouted into the blackness of my room. I vowed to keep my spirit free! At the time, the promise was idle. How could I protect myself when the darkness has already captured so many spirits? When he has his hooks in every town member I've seen, just waiting for the day they die?

Some days I don't know anything; my mind is far away, too far for me to think. But even then, I know I won't live forever. This morning the thought of my mortality frightened me more than everything else. Having the shadow steal my spirit isn't something I'd ever want to suffer.

But when the nurse came in with my pills, I realized that the shadow was afraid of me! My gift's a mystery to him. All he knows is that it could destroy him.

If only I could pull it together, right now I'm too tired. This places makes it so hard, so very hard to think. At least I know how to protect my spirit now. And how to protect my son!

Oz shoved the journal away with a growl. There were only a few more entries in it and so far not one answer. Just riddles and more questions! What could he do that would make the shadow afraid of him? Is it real or another of his twisted ramblings? Oz shook his head. His body screamed for sleep but the journal consumed his mind.

If we didn't' ramble would we ever truly say anything? The question popped into Oz's mind almost as if someone had put it there. Trevor had written it into his journal several entries after he'd been committed. When Oz had first read it, he'd thought it was just another of his father's lapses into incoherent babbling. But what if he was trying to tell me something while keeping it hidden from the hospital staff? Oz reached for the journal and mumbled to the empty room. "And maybe some part of him knew that he wasn't stable enough to put it down clearly."

Listening to his instincts again, he flipped through several entries, looking for something. He didn't know what exactly; just that he had to look. He only read the first few lines of each passage before he moved on to the next one. Halfway through, he found it.

The entries that started with statements about Trevor's life in the ward always went on to describe a nightmare. Ones that opened with a riddle always focused on his past and his grandmother. There was very little Oz could learn from those, but the ones that began with questions were the worst. Except maybe not, Oz wondered, looking closer at his father's writings.

The entries rambled exactly like the rest, yet there was something about them, something different. Oz snapped his fingers! "The punctuation and capitalization is off!" Before, he hadn't paid it any attention, had assumed that it was just another part of his father's condition. "But the only entries where his punctuation is wrong are the ones that start with questions! Why didn't I notice that earlier?"

Excitement gripped him. Carelessly, he whipped the pages back to the first entry with incorrect punctuation and capitalization. He slowly read the first paragraph.

If we didn't ramble would we ever truly say anything? I looked out the window and Saw. a tree. it was tall with two thick branches reaching up toward my window. The way it swayed back and forth made me think of a person waving for help. would The Sheriff. come to its aide? That's a very funny thought. His. helping a tree would probably make my Family laugh.

Oz stopped and began to put down the words his father had capitalized and punctuated incorrectly. After a few seconds, he had the hidden message in front of him. Reading it out loud, he put it all together. "I saw the sheriff, his family has been in the law for generations. He's connected, more than most of the other town members, to the shadow. It wants him, hates him!"

With a sigh, Oz tossed his notepad onto the desk. "What were you trying to tell me father? What does the sheriff have to do with anything?" Rubbing his eyes, he turned toward his bed. "I'm too tired to think, I need some sleep!"

Not bothering to undress the rest of the way, he dropped down onto the bed. Before he could count to ten sheep, he was asleep and dreaming.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

THE VISION

Drifting light on the air like a fallen leaf, Oz floated in a blanket of gray. Time was frozen. The world only consisted of that warm gray mist. Despite these efforts of comfort, his mind churned. Thoughts boiled up through the haze, burning it black with their passing. They bubbled up so fast that his blanket against the world dissolved into an angry sea. The waves of thought crashed over him, washing him away.

Images swirled around him, all calling to him to come in. He fought, swam against the dark water but they followed him, surrounded him no matter how hard he tried to escape. One image spun close by catching his eye. It was the vision he'd had of Sara's sister Amanda. He turned away before it could pull him in and drag him down. Another image shot passed. One of his nightmares played out in its small wavering window. His father's face rotted into a twisted death mask while he watched. As Oz fled from the image, he could hear Trevor's voice echoing after him. "You still have work to do, son!"

Suddenly, the images, the visions, changed, shifted into the pages of Trevor's journal. The words glimmered like strips of silver in the mid-day sun. The glimmer brightened and began to glow until the writing blurred. Passage after passage seared into Oz's mind. He squeezed his eyes tight against the burning words.

"Accept it, follow the vision!" His father's voice rumbled inside his head.

Fear climbed the ladder of Oz's spine. In this strange place would his visions be real? Would he suffer along with whomever the vision showed? Despite these questions, Oz opened his eyes, determined to face whatever may come.

The pages of Trevor's journal had expanded into the size of bed sheets. The words were more than a hand's span tall. Their glow was gone yet they seemed to be lighted as if they were made of phosphorus. Oz felt drawn to them, a pull deep in his middle tugged at him to come closer. It took him only a couple of seconds to read the first few lines of the page.

It was the passaged he'd just decoded before going to sleep. Either because of the size of it or the fact that he'd already broken the encryption, Oz could see the concealed message as if it was written plainly. As he scanned it, the word sheriff held him. The pull he'd felt earlier tightened, became a desire. It became something that he had – no needed – to do.

Almost of its own accord, his hand reached out. The page was cool against the brush of his fingers. Soft to the touch, softer than anything he'd felt before, feathery like the new down of a baby chick. Oz ran his palm across the words. Swallowing a gasp, he watched as his hand sank through the paper. It rippled around his wrists, the writing dancing with each tiny wave.

He yanked his arm back. Ink dripped from his fingers onto the page. While the ripples subside, the words pooled back together like lilies on the surface of a pond.

"Follow your instincts!" The whisper seemed to echo out of Oz's mind to fill the emptiness surrounding him.

He took a deep breath and plunged into the page. Cold! Icy cold crashed over him like a tidal wave of arctic water. Wind rushed by his ears, no other sound could reach him. Not even the scream he knew must have been roaring from his throat. Fear was the last thing he knew before everything went blinding white.

***

Dirt! The taste of it, the grit of it coating the inside of his mouth was the first hint that he was still alive. Slowly, he opened his eyes and immediately saw the source of the dirt. He stood on an old country road. It was wide and nearly board level despite the fact that it looked years away from every being paved.

Something about the road struck a chord with Oz. It seemed familiar to him like he'd been here before, in another time maybe.

A sound to his left jerked him out of his thoughts. He wasn't alone. Five men ranged out beside him, crossing the width of the road. The look on their faces told Oz that this gathering wasn't just a pleasant outing among friends.

The closest man to him turned and asked, "Did ya see which way he went?"

Oz tried to ask the man who he was talking about, what was going on, but when he opened his mouth, someone else spoke through him. "I think he went into the woods over there." Without any control of his movements, his arm rose to point the way. The shotgun in his hand shocked him to the bone. Fear tied his stomach into knots. He was a prisoner in his own body! The only thing he seemed able to move was his eyes. They danced from each man, looking for answers, for some clue to what was going on.

Each man was armed with rifles or shotguns. One of them had a revolver tucked into his belt. His eyes were red rimmed and angry. Oz knew that if ever anyone had looked like they were "out for blood" it was this man.

Glaring back at Oz, he spoke. "Well Deputy Neman, are we going after the son of a bitch!" It was more of a command than a question.

Oz didn't speak. The pilot of his body nodded, then dove into the trees. Darkness opened its wide arms and took them in. The setting sun only managed to cut a few thin lines of light through the black. As they ran through the forest, Oz tried to make sense of what was happening. He called me Deputy Neman. That's the sheriff's last name! The words on the page of his father's journal flashed before him. I saw the sheriff, his family has been in the law for generations. He's connected, more than most of the other town members, to the shadow. It wants him, hates him! Like a blow to the stomach, realization slammed into Oz.

I'm at the beginning! This is where it all started! The answers he'd been looking for were only moments away. He almost couldn't believe it! Finally, he would see what was causing it all!

The pilot of his body was tireless. He darted through brambles and cut through thick copses of trees without pause. The men followed doggedly in his wake, just as determined as he was. But for Oz it was still too slow, frustratingly slow. He tried to will them to run faster. To reach their prey sooner, to reach him right now!

Time trickled like a clogged drain, eking out each second as if they were minutes. Oz lost all track. The woods became an endless loop to him, piling on more frustration. He knew that if he was actually running along with these men instead of riding coach, he wouldn't be as agitated, but the knowledge didn't bring him any peace.

"There he is! Stop right there!" One of the men behind Oz's pilot shouted.

Not giving their prey time to respond, three of the men fired into the trees. The echoes of their weapons tore the calm silence of the forest. Oz barely heard the cry of pain that came from the brush.

"Hold your fire! I want him a live!" The man closest to Oz's pilot ordered. In a rush of branches and vines, they charged the dark shape writhing on the ground.

***

"Robert Jacobs, for the crimes you have committed against the fair people of this town, I sentence you to death by hanging!" Oz's pilot announced into the night. The kerosene lantern he held high flickered, the flame dancing wildly in the wind. The light seemed to only cast more shadows on the man they had captured.

The bound man flashed a grin, his teeth glinting like a half moon in the dark. "Al, I'm surprised. When I made you deputy I never thought you'd actually have the guts to stand up to me!" Laughter, ice cold laughter, bubbled out of his throat. Oz could feel the chills that snaked over his pilot's spine.

"You bastard!" The man who had demanded they take Robert alive lunged for him. The other members of the party had to hold him back. Hissing with rage, he spat curses at their prisoner. "You monster! I'll tear you a part for what you did to my little girl!"

In a voice coated with frost, a voice Oz had heard the shadow use, Robert spoke. "Why Nathan, you old fool, that would be a sight! You know, despite how little your daughter did while I had her, taking her first time was so sweet. It's more than worth whatever you will do to me!" He laughed. "Oh, how she cried for you, Daddy! Daddy help me!" His cruel laughter echoed through the woods.

Nathan's face turned red, easily visible even in the dark. The men holding him had to double their efforts to keep him from leaping for Robert's throat.

They barely could restrain him. He was close to breaking free from them until Allen, Oz's pilot, stepped forward. His words stilled their struggles. "For these crimes and all the others you have gotten away with, as Sheriff of Brigston, I'll be more than glad to watch you hang! String him up boys!"

They wrestled a noose around his neck. He spat at them and tried to bite their hands. With a quick jerk of his head, he slammed into one of the man's nose. Blood sprayed in a crimson arc as he fell back. Oz's pilot slipped in. Like a flash of lightning, his fist crashed into Robert's jaw. Oz felt the satisfying crunch of teeth breaking from the punch.

Dazed, Robert stopped resisting. After tightening the rope until it dug into Robert's neck, Allen turned back to Nathan. "You want to do the honors?"

Before he could answer, Robert rasped, "I'll get you for this! You'll all pay!"

Allen struck him across the face again. "We've already paid more than plenty for your perversions, you bastard!"

Nathan rested a hand on Allen's shoulder, moving passed him to get closer to the monster that had destroyed his daughter. "I hope you rot in hell!" He hissed between his teeth and kicked the makeshift stand out from under Robert's feet.

Thunder echoed out of the clear night sky. Robert flailed his feet back and forth, a terrible wet, choking sound coming from his open mouth. His eyes bulged with blood and rage. Despite the nausea rising to the back of Oz's pilot's throat, he couldn't look away from the dying man's last moments. Thunder cracked overhead. Oz could almost swear he heard Robert's threat echoed in that angry blast. You'll all pay!

CHAPTER THIRTY

FEAR

Darkness spread wide his wings of night. The trapped spirits fled his passing. They could feel his rage, one of the only things they could feel anymore. The strange tinge of fear that floated off the shadow frightened the spirits so much more than his anger. They had never seen him visibly afraid of anything. Many of them would suffer tonight.

With nothing but kindling left of the furniture, the darkness vented his wrath on the walls and stairs. Loose boards snapped away from their bases. Nails, old and red with rust, whistled through the air like missiles. It wasn't enough!

In a swirl of arctic air, the darkness vanished. Like many times before the tortured cries of the trapped spirits echoed out. The nightmare sounds grew, climbing the scales of a twisted symphony. An opera of black pain! Blasts of light flashed through the entire spectrum like a fireworks display on the Fourth of July.

It seemed like hours before the cries faded, the light dulled. The hush that followed held the forest in breathless expectation. When nothing happened for several minutes, the world slowly came back to life.

The darkness rose up, drawing his cloak of shadow about himself. The prisoners of the house trembled. They knew even though some of his rage had been slacked, he was still a thunderhead poised to crash over them. The darkness strolled from the house, slid across the feral grounds, through the fallen gardens. Hints of their former beauty remained like the tattered scraps of a tapestry. The golden face of a tulip, a bright spray of pansies and the deep, deep red of roses in full bloom worked their way into the open. They were all nothing more than the sad remnants of the pattern that once held sway over the grounds.

The shadow ignored these signs of life. He preferred the almost black leaves of the ropy vines strangling the trees, consuming parts of the house. That was a plant more to his liking.

He came to a stop in a particularly thick growth of those vines. He'd encouraged them to grow here. A perfect way to conceal the place where he was once trapped. His grave.

For the most part, he thought little of the bones that lay rotting there, buried deep below. But they were a reminder of the past, of his hate. He'd told them they would pay for his death, and oh, how they would pay!

At first he had been a prisoner there, trapped in the ground, forced to listen to the insects devour his decaying flesh. But as his hate darkened, as his spirit grew as black as the night, he began to reach beyond his grave. That's when he found the house – found a sleeping man who'd had the seed of darkness already taking root inside him. He'd only needed a little push! The shadow laughed at the memory. At the cries and pleas that the man's family had wailed when he'd done the darkness's bidding.

It had been so sweet, so, so sweet! He purred. The power he'd gained from that act gave him the key to escape his prison.

From there he'd built, drawn more and more of the blacker spirits to him. With them, he'd reached beyond just the dark ones, continued to reach until he had a powerful web. A web that had the entire town ensnared! A growl like distant thunder rumbled from the shadow.

Except those three! Damn them! He shouted into the trees. Several sparrows flitted into the air at the sound of his cold voice. And now they're trying to cut the town loose with that boy! Trying to take it all away from me again!

He raged into the night, against the woods and creatures of them. For a long moment, he thrashed the land, tore at the growing green around him. His anger boiled his thoughts. He'd had a plan, a beautiful, simple plan. Hurt the ones closest to the boy until he went over like his father had. But the three warned him, helped him! The darkness slammed his shadow fist into a tree. Frost burst over the bark, shattered it clean off the bole of the tree.

The darkness reared back to hammer it again only to stop in place. The girl! His rage slithered and coalesced into a black purpose once more. The girl is his weakness! She'll be so delicious! His laughter echoed like a peal of thunder.

***

Sara shot up in bed, gasping for breath. The sound that woke her faded with her nightmare. The house was quiet; the type of quiet that made her want to fill it with some noise, any noise. Unnerved by her dream and waking to the knowledge that Oz wasn't with her, she watched the shadows blanketing her room.

She listened for several heartbeats. Nothing. Just silence – nothing more. But she couldn't shake off the uneasy feeling knotting her stomach. Part of her wanted to yank her covers over her head like she'd done when she'd been a little girl. Yet, the part of her that was a mother had to think beyond her own fears. Overcoming her reluctance, she slowly climbed out of bed. She crept across the carpet, now compelled not to break the quiet.

The hall was a dark cave where anything could be lurking. She'd seen too much. After witnessing the attack on Doug's farm, she'd been unable to stop seeing danger around every corner. Images of towering beasts with dripping fangs flashed through her mind. She knew that she was trying to create something tangible, something solid because the most frightening werewolf, vampire, or sludge monster was less terrifying than the thing at the farm. Than that unknown beast!

Finally making it to Katy's room, Sara peeked in. The moon was nearly full, casting a pale glow over her little angel. She stood there soaking in the innocent peace of her sleeping daughter. Emotion flooded her heart.

As she watched Katy's chest rise and fall, scenes from that morning danced through her mind. Oz had been so wonderful. Bouncing Katy on his back, listening to her without the usual adult half interest. Katy adored him already, and from the way he smiled at her, Sara knew he felt the same way. But does he feel that way about me? Part of her was surprised that she hadn't been frightened away from Oz. All the insane things that were happening terrified her straight to her core. And she could easily see why Oz had thought he was losing his mind, but none of it had affected the love she felt for him.

She thought about the fear she'd had when he'd proposed all those years ago. It had grown every day that the wedding neared until it was a towering tidal wave ready to crash down on her. The day of the wedding, it had done just that.

She had hidden; she had run as far away from the church as possible and hid from the world. There was no reason for it. She loved Oz with all her heart, knew he would be a kind and caring husband. Her fear had just been too much to overcome.

"You know Sara, marriage scares me too, but I loved you enough to face it." Oz's words had haunted her. They'd broken her heart as much as they had broken his.

"I love him more than enough. It's time I made it up to him." She whispered.

A strong gust of wind blasted against the windows. The glass rattled from the force. Sara's heart thudded dully in her chest. After the way the wind had acted on Doug's farm, she didn't trust it now, wasn't sure she'd ever trust it again.

I don't blame you! The cold voice slithered across Sara's skin.

She swallowed a scream, spinning around to face the hall window. At first, she couldn't see anything but darkness. Then it moved. She had to fight to keep from screaming. A figure, a shadow man, stood outside the window – the second story window! She knew it couldn't be any real man, not unless he could float. The figure shifted closer to the window as easily as someone would have on the ground level. He threw a shadowed fist at the glass.

Sara gasped at the spider web cracks spreading out from the blow.

Now, why do you keep those lovely screams inside? I hadn't realized what beautiful music they were until my pet showed me! The cruel laugh twisted Sara's stomach with fear.

"Wha – what do you want?" She tried to sound demanding but her voice trembled.

Oh, I think you know! You're going to taste so sweet! His laughter pushed her back against the wall. He struck at the window again, and again. The crack grew with each blow. Twice the size, three times, four times! Half the glass covered with hair fine cracks, a thin layer of frost coating it all.

"GO AWAY!" Sara screamed. "GET AWAY FROM MY HOUSE!"

The shadow fist stopped, hovering over the window. Now, now, is that any way to talk to a guest! I guess if you feel that way I should leave! His bark of laughter chilled Sara to the marrow. After I get what I came for! The fist crashed down like a lightning strike. The window shattered.

Sara ran, the wind chime tinkle of glass falling to the ground followed her. She had to get Katy out of there. Nothing would hurt her child while she still drew breath. She yanked the blankets out of the way and snatched Katy up in her arms.

"Ah, Momma!" Katy moaned sleepily.

"Shush baby, we have to hurry over to Uncle Paul's and Aunt Rachel's."

You won't escape me that easy whore! The darkness called from the hall. He stood black against black, filling the entire doorway.

Sara cast about for something, any damn thing to fend the shadow off with.

"I'm scared, Momma!" Katy whined.

"I know, baby, I know," Sara murmured hugging her daughter closer.

Your fear is delicious! Intoxicating! I love it! He stepped beyond the threshold. I think I'll savor you for a while! His laughter squeezed tears from Katy's eyes.

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, YOU BASTARD!" Sara screamed. She grabbed the book that she'd read to Katy before bed. Hurling it like a throwing star, she flung it with all her might.

It stabbed into the shadow's chest and slowed. But it only passed through him as if it was moving through water.

A book! That's your idea of a weapon? He mocked. That wouldn't' have slowed me down when I was alive!

A thin fog formed between the darkness and them. No, it might not have but this will! Sara recognized the voice – it was Oz's father.

You? You're pathetic! You can't even hold yourself together any longer!

I don't need to! Trevor's fog shape lunged at the shadow. A scream of complete agony slashed through the house.

Fog and darkness swirled, both crying out with their pain. The fog pushed the darkness back, but with every inch gained more of it faded away. At the broken window, the shadow shouted. You may have gotten away this time, but I'll have what I want soon! Then he tumbled into the night, swallowed in the sea of shadows.

The fog, now nothing more than a wisp, lay on the floor. Sara rushed over and dropped to her knees beside it.

I can see why he loves you so much. Don't let him go. Trevor whispered. Tell him that the key's in him. It always has been. If I'd been stronger I could have ended all this years ago. The fog pulsed as if he had taken a breath. Tell Oz, he just needs to have faith and remember what I told him. The fog vanished, no sign it had ever really been there.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

LOVE

Mist rolled around Oz like the hills of a meadow. As far as he could see, gray hung in the air. He had no idea how long he'd been in this blank landscape. The dream world had shifted and gone black, then slowly this mist had drifted in.

"Hello, is anybody there?" he shouted into the quiet. The gray swallowed his words. The silence loomed higher like a storm ready to strike.

Time had no meaning here. Oz could have been standing there for twenty seconds or twenty minutes. The gentle roll of the mists could have been going on for hours or days. He was beginning to feel the need to do something to fill the void. The desire to yell and scream at the top of his lungs had him drawing in a deep breath.

The air whooshed out of his chest as Trevor spoke from behind him. "Don't worry, you don't have to do anything."

Oz snapped around. His father was only a fraction more tangible than the mist. It almost seemed to drift through him as well as around him.

"What is this place?" Oz asked.

"An in between place, in between your dreams and the waking world. It was the only way I could reach you and hope for the time to speak to you.

"I thought you left for the other side when we last spoke." Oz's voice was barely above a whisper now.

"I've something left to do. I don't have much left and my time is running out. Even here my time is already slipping away." Oz saw what he meant; with every word he spoke, his edges grew fainter. Tiny tendrils curled away from his body joining the mist around them.

"Then talk, tell me what you have to already!" Oz stepped closer, eager for any answers he might get.

"You've done a good job with my journal. There's only one thing left for you to learn. The key's..." A cry sliced through the mist sharper than any blade. It weakened Trevor's form. He began to drift with the rolling fog.

"I'm sorry, my times up. Read my journal!" His voice was faint, floating away the same as the rest of him.

"What's the key?" Oz shouted, but it was too late the gray sharpened. The world shook with sound. Something grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into the light.

***

Oz shot forward. The sheets of his bed tangled his limbs, nearly dragging him back down. Light blazed, the room was a white glow too bright for Oz to make out anything. For several rapid fire heartbeats, he was blinded and struggling to get free from the bed.

"Ozzie, it's me!" Doug held him still.

"Paw?" The world came into focus second by groggy second. The look on his grandfather's face hit him like a strong cup of coffee. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Doug's eyes trailed down to where Oz's hands had clutched his shirt. Slow and gentle, Oz let go, surprised to find his hands there in the first place. He hadn't realized he'd moved them. Before he could apologize, Doug said, "Sara's on the phone, um, there's, ah, been an incident." He rushed on placing his palms on Oz's chest. "Everything's all right. She just wants to talk to you."

Oz leapt out of bed, the sheets falling to the floor in his wake. In a blur, he sailed over to his desk. The phone was to his ear before he had a chance to catch his breath. "Sara!" He huffed into the receiver.

"Oz, is that you?" Her voice was steady, but Oz could hear a hint of strain.

"Yeah, what happened?" Fear tightened his throat.

There was a long moment of silence. Oz began to worry that he'd lost the connection. "Oz, they came for me, he came for me."

His heart fell to the bottom of his stomach. Thoughts spun through his mind too fast for him to hold onto. He stammered into the phone. "Sar – Sara, oh G – God! Are you...is Katy all..."

"We're fine, just a little shaken up." She paused for a second then asked, "Could you come over?"

"I'll be there in a few minutes." He dropped the phone on the cradle without another word.

Turning to dash down stairs, he came face to face with Doug. There was an understanding smile on his lips. "You might want these." He held out some of Oz's clothes and his tennis shoes.

"Thank you." Oz folded them into the crook of his arm and asked, "Paw will you be all right here by yourself?"

"I don't know, but I'm not going to let fear rule me. And I'm definitely not going to let some spook scare me out of my own home! Now, you be careful, I'm going back to bed. I'll hit the light in your room on my way."

"Thanks." He rushed down stairs, pulling his clothes on as he went. He worried about leaving his grandfather alone but was too reluctant to let Sara wait until morning.

***

The faint gray light of pre-dawn filled the eastern sky when Oz pulled up in front of Sara's house. It wouldn't be much longer before the real thing began. Sunrise would burn away the night, banish the shadows to their borrows once more, but it wouldn't help Oz. He considered this for a long moment, his eyes locked on the deep dark of the tree line.

Neither will sitting in my truck staring at nothing, he thought and climbed out.

Sara met him at the door, as he was about to knock. The worry in her black-brown eyes tore at him. They were brittle with dancing emotions, all barely held in place. Oz opened his arms. Sara collapsed against his chest on a long breath.

"Oh Oz!" She buried her face into the hollow of his shoulder.

Oz tightened his hold, his hands gently kneading her back. He'd failed her, how could have he let anything happen to her?

Sara felt him go tense, distance himself inside the circle of her arms. Leaning back, she looked up into his face. His eyes rarely hid anything he was feeling, especially now. The guilt that gleamed in his emerald gaze tore at her. She framed his face between her palms. "Ozzie, don't blame yourself. It's not your fault."

For a second he said nothing, surprised she was able to read him so well. He shook his head to deny her words. "It is my fault! Sara, he wouldn't have come for you if it weren't for me."

"No Oz, that's not true. You told me that your father said they were coming for me..."

"Because of me." He interrupted and started to step back.

Sara slid her hands into his hair, pulling him closer. Her auburn tresses danced across her shoulders as she shook her head. "No, he would have come for me sooner or later. So, even if your being here hadn't changed his plans, he would still have come here."

It was logical, very reasonable, but Oz couldn't accept it. "It was my fault, I should've been here."

"Oh Oz! You can't be everywhere." She caressed his cheek.

"No, but I could've been here." He stepped back.

Sara gripped him tighter. "You couldn't have focused on your father's journal here."

He opened his mouth to protest, Sara cut him off before he could utter a word. "Oh, shut-up and kiss me!" She dragged his head down until their lips met.

Fire! The raging heat of the kiss sparked vicious hunger. A primal hunger! Oz changed the angle, deepening it. The dark, sweet flavors of her mouth enraged his cravings. He dipped his tongue passed her lips, eager for her taste, for more of her.

A moan rippled from her throat. Oz drank it in like a fine wine, its effervescence shot straight to his brain in an intoxicating wave. He couldn't get enough! He plundered her mouth, his hands worked under her robe. They slid up her stomach, cupping her breasts. They were already full, heavy in his palms. He ran his thumbs over the stiff peaks. A shiver of pleasure trembled through her body, echoed in his.

The need to press flesh against flesh blazed inside him. His hands were at the buttons of her nightdress. Sara tore at his clothes, the need and desire burned as bright in her. She had his shirt up over his head, breaking the kiss for an eternally long second. Her hands roved across his broad chest. His skin felt fevered, the fire inside him threatening to consume him, to consume them both!

With unsteady limbs, he lifted her and started toward the stairs. Sara pulled back enough to shake her head. "No, the bed's too far. The sofa!" He changed course as he dipped his mouth back to hers.

***

Oz found he loved Sara's bed. He'd never slept better in his life. Hugging her closer, he knew it had nothing to do with the bed and everything to do with the woman in his arms. Light shone on her sleeping face, gilding her smooth skin gold. From the angle of the beam, Oz figured it was late morning, only a few hours since they'd lain down to sleep. It was amazing how refreshed he felt. When he had awoke from his vision dreams, he'd been worn and tired, but now he was totally renewed.

"Momma?" Katy's questioning whisper brought Oz to full alert and snapped Sara out of sleep in a blink.

She turned to her little girl, thankful that she'd remembered to put on another nightdress before they had gone to bed. "Yes honey?"

"I had a bad dream." Oz's heart tripped in his chest at the tremble in her bottom lip.

Opening her arms, Sara said, "Oh baby, come here."

Katy rushed into her mother's embrace. Oz felt the love between them wash over him. It filled his chest with emotion. So much emotion that he knew he had to make them his family, his life.

After a long, comfortable silence, Katy looked over at Oz. Her smile was a bright ray of sunshine as she asked, "Ozzie, whacha doin' in Momma's bed? Are you havin' a slumper party?"

Oz tried to swallow the laugh. Her innocence was touching. He gave a slight shrug and said, "Sort of."

Taking his reply as a yes, she bounced. "Are we gonna make flipjacks again?"

"Sure thing. Why don't you go ahead downstairs and I'll meet you in the kitchen in a little bit."

Dashing off, she cried a cheer all the way down the hall. Oz laughed and squeezed Sara tight. "I love you and I love that beautiful child of yours." There was no thought or preamble to his statement, which gave it more impact than the most flowing poem.

Sara's heart soared, words bubbled to her mind too fast for her to say any of them. Before she had a chance to recover, Oz sighed. "I better hurry down or she'll start without me." He kissed her temple and got out of bed to put his pants on.

When he reached the door, Sara finally found her voice. "Oz!" she called louder than she'd meant it to be.

The crooked smile he gave her nearly stole her voice again. She fought to get the words out passed her emotions. "Oz, I love you too."

Moisture glimmered in his emerald eyes. His smile trembled. Sara had so much she wanted to tell him. She wanted to apologize, to explain that she loved him more than enough, to beg him to hold her forever, and so much more. The only words she could manage were, "I love you so much!"

He stepped over to her. She didn't wait for him to cross the room, she ran to him. They held each other so tight; neither wanted to ever let go again.

"I love you enough." She whispered.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

THE KEY

"Oz, I'm worried," Sara whispered to him as she tucked her sleeping child into bed.

"I know, so am I." He squeezed her shoulder.

"When that shadow broke in it was horrible." She shivered, her hands clutching her elbows across her middle. Cold seemed to close around her like a blanket of ice.

Oz side stepped the bed to take her into his arms. "I'm sorry I wasn't here for you."

She gave him a weak smile and mock slapped his arm. "Now, don't start that again!"

"But I truly am sorry." He laid his forehead against hers.

"I know," She stroked his hand. "The worst part of it all was there wasn't a thing I could do to stop him. Not one damn thing I could do to protect Katy." The fear and anger from the memory rolled through her body. She'd never felt so helpless in her life, and it tore her up inside.

Oz said nothing, he just held her closer, wrapping her with all his love. They stood like that for a long time, absorbing the peace while they could. In a low voice, Sara began to tell him what had happened the night before, how if Trevor hadn't appeared she had no idea what she would have done. Oz let her tell the story, giving her as much of his strength as he could.

She looked up into his face and smiled a watery smile. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," He ran a soothing hand down her hair.

"Oz," She opened her mouth as if to ask a question. For several heartbeats, she said nothing. Then she took Oz's face in her hands and spoke. "When your father beat the shadow, he gave me a message for you." The faint image of Trevor's face formed before her eyes. Her lips moved along with the memory of his words. I can see why he loves you so much, don't let him go. She tightened her grip on Oz, promising in her heart to do just that.

Oz stroked her cheek and asked, "What did he tell you?"

With a slight shake of her head, she focused her thoughts. "He said something about a key..."

"A key!" Oz exclaimed, his hands clutched her shoulders in excitement. "Did he say what the key was?"

She chuckled. "If you let me finish!"

"Sorry," He put effort into calming back down.

"He said the key is in you, that it's always been there."

"What? The key is in me? Damn it! How's that supposed to help me?" Without taking a breath he asked, "Did he say anything else?"

Nodding, she continued, "He said you just need to remember what he told you and to have faith."

"Have faith! Damn him! Why couldn't he just come out and tell me what I need to know?" he growled as he stepped back from Sara.

"I'm sorry Oz, that's all he told me." She laid her head against his chest.

Stroking her hair, he sighed. "That's all right. That's more than he told me." Oz's hands stopped their gentle caressing. He mumbled, "More than he told me?" In a snap, he jerked away from Sara and slapped his forehead. "That's it!"

"What's it?" She arched an eyebrow at his sudden behavior.

"What he told me! There's still something I'm supposed to learn from his journal! He tried to tell me what the key was to find it, but we'd been interrupted. I need to go get his journal." He started for the door then stopped with his hand on the knob. Turning back to Sara, he said, "It'll have to wait 'til morning. I'm not going to leave you and Katy here by yourselves."

"You could get it and come back here." Sara suggested, understanding how eager he was to end this.

"Who knows what would happen the moment I left. That shadow could be waiting right outside for any opening he can get." A dark look crossed his face; anger at what the shadow could do tightening his gut.

Sara huffed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. Now that he'd put the idea into her head, she was just as worried as she was. "Okay, then what about Doug? You could call him and have him bring it over."

Oz smiled and grabbed her up. "That's a great idea! Though he told me that he was fine when I talked to him earlier, I've been worried about him being by himself all day."

"Well, then why don't we call him over? Maybe if we put our heads together we can help you find some answers."

***

"Well, I think it's a bust." Paul flopped back against Sara's couch, or the closest thing to a flop he could manage with his leg in a cast and his arm in a sling. Rachel handed him a cup of coffee.

When they'd called Doug, Oz had figured the more people working on the journal the better. And the better he'd feel knowing that the people he cared about were safe. But after an hour of it, the theory five heads were better than one hadn't proved true, and Oz wanted to take a handful of aspirin and sleep for a week. They'd read the journal from front to back, and even in reverse just in case. Nothing worked! Oz was beginning to think it was a complete waste of time. He already knew who, what, and where the shadow had come from. And he had a pretty good guess for the why and how of it. Yet understanding the shadow didn't give them the answers to how to stop him.

"Maybe if we read it out loud," Doug suggested, picking up the journal. With a cough to clear his throat he read, "It stalks the nights, slinks through the days, always hungry. Drifts on silent wings or strikes with ringing screams. It feasts at war or peace, its ravenous belly never full."

"Well, that's not the friendliest riddle I've ever heard," Paul laughed weakly.

"What's it about?" Rachel asked.

"I'm not sure, maybe the shadow," Sara suggested.

"I think it's about death, but with the bad way Trevor was in when he wrote it, it could have been about Little Red Riding Hood for all I know." Doug dropped the journal back to the coffee table.

Oz sat staring at the book. The moment Doug had begun to read the room shifted, light and shadow danced. While they'd discussed his father's riddle, Oz spun on a slow axis, the world a twisted merry-go-round. Something hovered at the edges of his vision. Something that he knew would be an insight to the journal's last secret.

"Read the rest," he whispered, cutting their conversation off.

"What?" Sara asked, her hand stroking his shoulder. The touch felt like it was a mile away.

"Read the rest," His voice echoed inside his head. It took colossal effort to raise his hand to point to the journal.

"Oh, okay," Doug's tone was heavy with concern. His grandson was so pale his face looked washed out. He reluctantly picked up the leather bound book again. "Gran used to tell me about the black eyed codger, as she used to call death. She always said that he was a natural part of life; the cycle wouldn't be complete without him. Then she would complain that his hunger couldn't be quenched with just the old though. He takes from all walks and stages of life. This makes some souls kick up a ruckus even..."

His words trailed on. Oz could only hear a growing hum, a buzzing in his ears that vibrated through his whole skull. The slow rotation that the world had been spinning around him doubled. The room dipped almost tilting on end. Oz slipped back into a well of blinding light.

***

"Dizzy? That'll pass." The voice drifted to Oz like fog through a valley – slow and softly. With it, light began to sharpen before his eyes. Inch by inch, shapes took form. He was standing in the middle of a garden. Bright sprigs of daises and charming flutes of tulips swayed at his feet.

"Your father had the same problem. Lord, it took him a long time to get his bearings." The voice laughed behind him. It was rich and full with age.

Oz turned taking in the rest of his surroundings. A wide cottage stretched out beside the garden. Trees grew in a half circle around it.

"Boy, you're the spitin' image of your daddy." The speaker was an elderly woman, leaning against the porch rail. Her steel gray hair hung in loose waves down passed her shoulders. It tumbled like a sleek waterfall, silver in the morning sun. Twin dimples popped out when she smiled.

"Come're boy! I wanna get a closer look at ya." She waved to Oz.

"What is this place? Where am I?" he asked, taking care not to trample the rows of blooms at his feet.

She shrugged. "That's a bit hard to explain. I guess you could say it's an in between place."

"In between? I'm not asleep, or at least, I wasn't – I don't think I was." He climbed the steps to stand next to the woman he figured must be his great-grandmother.

She laughed. "There are lots of in between places, boy. You could say that this is an in between the world of the living and the world of the dead, though that's not quite right either. See, I'm only partly here, I'm mostly on the other side."

"I don't understand." Oz shook his head.

She brushed his hair with her hand. "Child, I never could explain it truly. I had something the good Lord gave me to do, so part of me is here." She smiled and continued, "Let's sit a spell and I'll answer the rest of your questions as best I can. Though, remember time is pressing, it doesn't wait for no man."

Oz helped her get comfortable before he joined her on the steps. "I'm not sure what to ask. I guess I need to know how to put a stop to the shadow."

"Ah, not one to beat around the bush, I see. I should've known you'd be impetuous. Your father was too. I'm sorry, child, but I can't tell you that." She held up her hand to keep Oz quiet. "Now, before you get in a huff, I can't tell you because it has to either be shown or come from within. If you're anything like your father was, and from what I can tell you are, you'll be a natural at it. It was a shame he couldn't teach you himself. Too bad, he decide to be like his mother and turn away from his gift. She had the most powerful talent I'd ever seen! But by the time she was old enough to marry, she turned her back on me and my teaching. Your father came to me when the spirits started to bother him for the first time. Oh, it was a wonder teaching him! He was so full of energy and curiosity! He just wanted to know everything I knew! Then one day while he was in town he ran into your mother." She smiled, her eyes sad and happy at once. Though Oz felt each second tick by like a bet of a drum, he wanted to hear what she had to say – to listen to every word she uttered. He hardly knew anything about his parents. Listening to her reminisce was like getting to meet them for the first time.

"Your mother was so beautiful and one of the sweetest girls I've ever saw. They dated for a long time and when Trevor proposed it was right here on these steps." She laughed. "Well, not these steps, this is an in between place after all." She looked up at the sun and smiled, but it was a sad expression not her usual dimple flashing grin. Her voice was serious when she continued, "I'm sorry to have rambled on like that. I've wasted too much of your time. Did you have anything else you wanted to ask me?"

"You said that I'm like my father, so how can I stop the shadow when he couldn't?" Oz frowned at her.

"The shadow, as you call him, isn't a common thing. Not many nasty spirits can hang around after death, and even fewer that can get so strong to actually hurt the living." She shook her head. "I never got the chance to show your father how to deal with them."

"Then show me!" Oz started to bounce to his feet. She gripped his thigh to hold him in place.

"I'm not really here, remember. I can't show you anything." She pursed her lips. "It's something you'll have to figure out on your own. But your father told you all that any teacher could tell you. Follow your instincts, listen to your heart." She pulled herself up to her feet. "I better be seeing you on your way."

"On my way? My father told me that there was one more thing to learn from his journal; told me I was the key to finding it. I thought you were that last thing."

"I am. Though what your father thought I could teach you is beyond my abilities here. And you're a key in more ways than you know. Now, you best get movin'."

Oz stood then turned back to his great-grandmother. "How?"

"Not to worry, you've already started on your way." She waved, her body fading like smoke on the wind. "One last thing, have faith. Faith in yourself and in love." Her voice hovered in his ears long after the rest of the world had faded out.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

ABDUCTION

Cries echoed through the woods. A blade of agony, they sliced the night into silence. Though none of the woodland animals would come near the crumbling house, the dark screams frightened them from their dens. The lightning like flashes of color fed their fear, pushing them further from the house.

A final piercing shriek ended the twisted opera. The thick quiet that settled in its place was so heavy it seemed to weigh down even the trees. The darkness absorbed it, drank it in just as he had consumed the spirits' cries. He was more powerful than he'd ever been. The battle with Trevor had weakened him so much that it had taken an entire day to recover enough to drain his prisoners. A chuckle hissed from his throat. He'd nearly used up several of them in his hunger and rage. After I get rid of the son, I'll have more than enough spirits to feed off of. I just need the girl! The shadow threw himself out of the house, vanishing in a stream of arctic wind.

Grass swayed, several blades collecting a fine layer of frost in his wake. Bark was stripped from the low hanging branches he hurtled passed. A small chipmunk scurried into his path. Laughter as cold as the wind shot out. The rodent's tiny ears flattened back, its black bead eyes darted from side to side. Sensing danger, it began to scramble away. The wind struck it before it could disappear into the brush. Frozen on impact, it never felt the pain of crashing into a nearby oak. The wind savored every second of the small death as it rushed on. He would have reveled in more destruction, but there was something more important than pleasure on his mind.

The wind didn't slow down until the woman's house rose before him. He stopped so suddenly that the ice of his passing shattered the sap inside a young pine. The tree exploded open, the sound like a cannon blast in the quiet. The wind snarled and drew on his cloak of shadow. He huddled in the depth of his darkness, waiting and watching. No movement came from the house. Taking only a few seconds more, the shadow slipped up to the front of the building.

Light filled several windows, people moved around inside. The darkness growled. He didn't like it. The more people there were the more energy he'd have to use to get the girl. Slinking across the ground, he made his way closer to the house. The blinds were drawn at one of the windows. The yellow glow from inside washed over him, making his form stand out clearly against the night. Careful of the risk, he spied over the windowsill.

A growl of complete rage rumbled from his throat. The man was with her and he'd brought company. Damn him! With a cold blast of rage, the wind howled against the glass.

Oz dashed to the window. Nothing visible moved but he could feel something, something dark and full of hate lurking outside. A ripple of fear tingled madly down his spine. It continued long after the wind and the dark presence had faded.

***

Katy shot forward, her breath trapped in her lungs. Tears tumbled down her cheeks. The nightmare had come back. She couldn't remember what it had been about. All that stayed with her was the fear.

After catching her breath, she squeezed Madeline tight and began singing softly. It always made her feel better after a bad dream. The song she sang didn't matter; more often than not she just made up her own. It was the singing that helped, and holding Maddy tight.

As the fear began to fade, she curled up on her side still sleepy and exhausted from her nightmare. Lying there listening to the quiet of her bedroom she heard someone talking. She hoped it was Ozzie and her momma. She liked Ozzie. He was nice and fun, and he always made her laugh.

Curiosity drew her out of bed. At the door, she paused. The hall was dim. Light seeped out of the bathroom, a pool of yellow that barely stretched to Katy's room. Though she could hear her Momma's voice from downstairs, the thin tendrils the shadows snaked into the light bothered her. They looked like hungry fingers eager for a taste of little girl flesh. The longer she watched them, the closer they seemed to reach for her. It took her several deep breaths to force her fear filled legs to carry her out of her bedroom.

Madeline was crushed to her chest, her patchwork face peeking out from under Katy's chin. Shielded behind the rag doll, Katy inched her way down the hall. Her head swiveling back and forth, she tried to keep the shadows in sight. Afraid they might suddenly leap for her, she began to hurry. She clattered down the stairs in her rush.

"Katydid?" her momma called as Katy neared the bottom.

"Yes Momma," she replied, shuffling into the front room.

Squatting to be on eye level with her daughter, Sara asked, "What're you doing up? Did you have a bad dream?"

Katy nodded, her braids dancing across her shoulders. Sara stroked her cheek and took Katy into her arms. "It's all right now, Momma's here." Rocking gently on her heels, she held her little girl tight. They sat like that for several minutes, mother and daughter a haven from the world. Oz couldn't resist the urge that welled inside him. He crouched down next to them and wrapped his arms around his family.

Damn him! The words were faint like someone cursing under their breath in the next room. Oz tried to tell himself that he was mistaken but the hairs bristled on the back of his neck said otherwise. Seconds behind the words, an icy howl of wind rattled the windows. The glass shook so hard that Oz was surprised that the panes didn't shatter into dust.

Katy's eyes were wide circles as she watched Ozzie dash to the window. Fear slipped into her body. The only thing she could see outside was the night sky, a black blanket of cold stars. Fear grew despite no visible cause.

Oz turned back from the window, the corners of his mouth twisted in a frown. Instantly, he saw the terror in Katy's hazel eyes. With effort, he forced a smile onto his lips. "Some wind huh?"

She bobbed her head, her eyes still large double O's in her small angel face. Oz rubbed her shoulder and said, "How 'bout we go back up stairs and I'll read you a bed time story?"

The fear vanished from her eyes as they glinted with excitement. Her smile swelled his heart near to bursting. "Really? You could read Green Eggs and Ham? It's my favorite!"

"Then that's what it'll be, Sam I am." He grabbed her up and swung her onto his hip.

On the stairs, she asked, "Are you goin' to church with us in the morning?"

"Sure," She snuggled closer to him.

***

"Hurry now, boys and girls, don't dawdle," Mrs. Quinn, the Sunday school teacher for Brigston's Assembly of God, clapped her hands.

Katy stood at the back of the group, ignoring the cherub-cheeked woman. Unlike the rest of the class, she wasn't driven to distraction by the outdoor lesson. Normally, she loved to learn about Jesus and heaven. And to hear about the glorious kingdom where her daddy was watching over her. But the moment they had stepped outside, she felt the same way she had before Ozzie picked her up to tuck her into bed.

While Mrs. Quinn had explained creation and all the things on Earth that the Father had given everyone, she stared at the breeze flitting through the leaves of the trees a few yards away. It was a constant dance; something that might have been fun to watch if it hadn't been for the way it made her heart hammer in her chest.

Now with the rest of the class tromping inside, Katy couldn't pull her eyes off the wild wind. "Ow! You pushed me!" Someone behind her shouted.

"Did not!"

"Did too!" Katy could almost see the two boys shoving each other though she didn't risk turning to look. She couldn't have moved now anyway; the wind was no longer in the trees. It was rushing through the grass, heading toward her. If she'd been a little older, she would have tried to tell herself that being afraid of a breeze was silly. Yet she knew nothing was silly about it or the fear that tightened her chest.

When its icy finger touched her cheek, she tried to scream. She only made a small squeak before a thick cushion of air covered her mouth. The wind wrapped around her like a frozen blanket, pinning her arms to her sides. Faster than it had sprung on her, it lifted her up and jerked her out of sight before anyone spotted them.

Cold! So cold, she could hear her teeth chattering through the wind gag. The chill seeped into her bones, making it impossible for her to struggle. Tears frosted on her face seconds after she shed them.

The wind hurled her on faster and faster; the air stinging her eyes like sharp needles. She was too frightened to close them. All she could do was watch as trees flashed passed and pray, pray that someone would rescue her from whatever had taken her.

Shadows clung to the ground the further the wind dragged her. It was even colder away from the light. Images of icicles hanging from her body danced in her mind. They weren't the friendly Christmas fantasies that she might have had while building a snowman. The only warmth she had was the fire hot terror coursing through her body.

Suddenly, the wind was gone. Katy crashed to the forest floor, tumbling along the underbrush like a loose stone. She was too cold and scared to notice the scrapes on her arms and legs. She gasped for breath, sucking in lungful after lungful of the warm spring air, not bothering to sit up.

Stand! Something almost as cold as the wind, grabbed her hair. With the flare of pain shooting through her scalp, came the itching sting of her scrapped skin.

"P, please don't h, hurt me!" she begged, blinking the still half frozen tears from her eyes.

A laugh that made her nearly pee herself was the only reply. When her vision finally cleared, she did release her bladder. The shadow man from her nightmare was holding her. He laughed again and turned towards the death house. Welcome to your new home! You won't be leaving here ever again!

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

THE HOUSE

"What? My Katy! How could you let this happen?" Sara screamed. Oz had to squeeze her to his chest to keep her from striking at the frazzled Sunday school teacher.

"I'm so sorry. I'm sure she just wandered off. She'll be all right." Desperation filled her voice. Oz could tell from the look in her eyes that she wanted her words to be true worse than she'd ever wanted anything.

"Mrs. Quinn, why don't you notify the Sheriff's office so we can get professional help searching for her?" Oz asked, positive that the police wouldn't be able to find her. And if they possibly could, they wouldn't be able to confront her abductor.

"Yes, Paula, get a hold of Todd. He'll wanna have his deputies out her as soon as possible." Pastor Andrews added patting the older woman's shoulder. As she left the pastor continued, "Katy's probably just off somewhere playing. You know how children are. When they're having fun the rest of the world ceases to exist." His warm smile had no effect on Sara, or Oz. They both knew what had happened. Oz couldn't believe he'd failed her, failed everyone. Sara slipped her hand into his and squeezed. The look she gave him told him not to blame himself. What she'd said the night the shadow had broken into her house came back to him. "You can't be everywhere."

He nodded. It was true, no person could be everywhere, but he could make up for not being there. He had to find Katy. How? The question tightened his heart. The shadow took her, he knew that. Yet he had no idea where.

He was still chewing over that when two deputies arrived. They moved with a brisk step that seemed terribly slow to Oz. The first to reach them was a tall dark haired man, the second was a woman about as tall as her lanky partner. The woman nodded once and said, "Ma'am, I'm Deputy Roderick and this is Deputy Wilson. The Sheriff wanted us to inform you that we've asked for volunteers. They are gathering outside under his direction as we speak. Now, what we would like for you to do is go home and wait for word." She opened her mouth to continue.

Sara cut in, her voice raised like a sword ready to strike. "You want me to what? To just go home and wait! To sit on my thumbs while my little girl is lost!"

The deputy raised her hands palms out. "Ma'am, calm down. It is very likely that your daughter will try to contact you at your home. So, it would be best if you were there to take the call." She paused for a moment then went on, "We're going to do all we can to find her."

Oz held Sara closer. "We understand, thank you."

Nodding again, she said, "Ma'am, we'll find your daughter." Though she didn't say it was a promise, Oz knew that was what it was. She turned and left, her partner following on her heels.

***

"They won't find her!" Sara moaned. Tears streamed down her cheeks, trailing what little remained of her mascara.

"Don't say that, she's going to be just fine. They'll be calling you any second to tell you they've got her." Rachel soothed rubbing her hand across Sara's back.

"No, they won't! You don't understand. The shadow took her, I just know it!" She crushed the tissue in her hand.

"C'mon Sara, you can't think that. You said yourself that it never attacked in the day time."

"That doesn't mean he can't. Doug and Oz were attacked in the middle of the day."

"But that wasn't this shadow thing," Rachel glanced at Oz. "Was it?"

Oz shook his head. "No, but it was related to him somehow." His voice was distant even to his own ears. The shadow was worse than the wind that had attacked them at the farm, a whole helluva lot worse. You protect boy not boy! Steal my music! MY MUSIC! The wind's words haunted Oz's mind. They were a clue, a clue to where to find Katy. But he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Oz, what're we gonna do! That thing has my little girl!" Sara cried.

"I don't know." He wasn't sure if he spoke out loud. He was too focused. Staring out the window, he watched the sun begin its westward decent. My music? The spirit that attacked Jake and me when we were boys had said that. The one at the farm was the same spirit! The thought struck him in the head like a bolt of lightning.

"The house!" Oz exclaimed.

"What?" both women asked in unison.

"I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner. The abandoned house out in the woods. You know, the one where all the kids say that guy killed his whole family!"

"Okay, but I still don't understand." Rachel arched one slender brow.

"When Jake and I were kids we went out to the house. We never told anyone. It was the first time I encountered spirits."

"But what does that have to do with anything?" Rachel asked.

Sara shot up. "You think Katy's there!"

"Yes," He bobbed his head.

Rachel grabbed Sara's hand before she could run out the door. "How do you get that?"

"My father spoke of a house in his journal. He said the house was a prison the shadow used to hold his captured spirits in. I don't know why I hadn't connected them earlier."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go get my little girl!" Sara jerked out of Rachel's grip.

Before she could make it halfway across the room, Oz held her in place. "No Sara, I have to go alone. I'm the only one who can stop him."

"But it's Katy! It's my little girl!" Her dark eyes shimmered with more tears.

The bands around Oz's heart squeezed harder. "I know, that's why I have to go alone. I wouldn't be able to focus if I'm worried about you too. I'm sorry, but it's too dangerous. I can't protect Katy and you both. Hell, I don't have the slightest clue what I'm going to do when I find her." He hugged Sara tight. "Please stay here, be safe."

She nodded against his shoulder. They kissed and held each other for a long second. "I'll bring her home." He swore with all his heart.

***

The Dodge's tires crunched in the gravel along the side of the road. It was still a few hours before dusk, yet the gloom under the trees seemed blacker than night. Oz knew it was a trick of the eye, that it wouldn't be that dark in the woods. But he stared at the forest unable to pull his gaze away from the thick shadows lurking there. In that midnight world, Katy was being held, possibly suffering and completely alone with the shadow.

Oz took a deep breath and climbed out of the truck. The air was warm and balmy with a hint of rain to come. That seemed fitting to Oz, something that many horror movies had. Yet, he didn't feel like a hero, or anything as close as a hero's sidekick. He felt like someone in up over his head.

Katy needs me! He ordered himself on. The first step into the forest the temperature dropped several degrees. Oz couldn't tell if it was just because of the gloom or something else. He pushed the thought from his mind. It didn't matter; he had a little girl to bring home.

Oz stepped over the fallen side of the broken fence gate, the marker leading to the house. "C'mon Oz, you ain't afraid flying monkeys are gonna getcha?" Jake's voice floated out of the past.

"I'm not the one with the hots for the wicked witch of the west." Oz whispered to the memory. Thinking about that first encounter didn't comfort him. He'd needed help to save Jake back then and it had only been one spirit. Not a phantom or whatever the shadow was that he faced now.

Though no cold breeze brushed his face when he stepped onto the ancient rock path, the temperature did drop a few more degrees. The chill settled across Oz's shoulders like a heavy blanket.

Fear trembled through his chest. He tried to shake it off, but it was no use. Taking a deep breath, he pushed on. He wasn't going to let it stop him. He was going to bring Katy back safely no matter what. At least that's what he told himself.

The path seemed longer now despite the fact he was almost twice as tall as he'd been at twelve. The trees still loomed overhead, their branches dripping shadows onto the forest floor like blood. The cold grew deeper and the darkness blacker before the last of the stones gave way to the dirt track where they'd been planted.

It was less of a path than when Jake had dragged Oz over it all those years ago. Weeds and wild flowers obscured most of it from sight. Yet, Oz's feet seemed to know the way, never straying from the path. It was almost as if he was being led. He hoped that it was a good sign; he could easily remember the dream his father mentioned in his journal. The idea of the shadow reeling him in like a big fish didn't appeal to him.

Too soon for Oz's comfort, the house reared up in front of him. No hint of the beauty remained, all signs of its former splendor crushed beneath layers of decay and abandonment. The holes that had pockmarked the roof were larger now, twice as wide as a man's height. The thick skin of mildew on the shingles was oil black. Only one of the shutters survived, hanging on by a single bolt. It creaked and swayed in the gentle breeze, threatening to fall at any moment. The balcony had finally given up the fight. Oz could easily imagine the thunder like explosion that it had made when it had crashed down on the porch.

The house still frightened him. Over fifteen years since he'd last seen it and it scared him now just as bad as it had then. He shoved the fist of fear to the bottom of his stomach and started toward the ruined structure.

It was more of a struggle to climb over what was left of the porch. Boards stuck straight up in several places like strange wooden sentries guarding the entrance. Rot weakened the ones that were still in place. Oz had to test his footing before he could dedicate his full weight. It made the trek ten times longer, a painstaking process that ate up time. Time that Katy might not have! He gritted his teeth pouring on as much speed as he could.

The door was no longer attached to the frame. It lay buried under pieces of the collapsed balcony. But debris half blocked the doorway, the darkness beyond was cold, deep, grave cold. Oz squeezed through the entrance tumbling into that thick, night blackness. The air was musty with age. It seemed to hang stiff as if time had separated it from the rest of the world.

Very little light seeped into the house. It gave only a weak haze to the rooms. Oz tripped, dust scattering into a cloud before his face. Coughing, he sputtered. "There goes, chuff, any chance, chuff, chuff, I had at the element of surprise."

When the dust settled enough for him to breathe more easily, he glared at the splintered table leg that had tripped him. Scattered nearby were pieces of wood like the debris of a shipwreck. As far as Oz could tell, it was the rest of the offending table. The violence needed to reduce it to kindling small enough to fit in an old wood burning stove shook Oz to his core. And it made him more determined than ever to get Katy out of there.

No longer concerned with stealth, he kicked and crunched his way to the stairs. He could feel the cold presence of eyes watching him. They followed his every move, staying exactly the same distance away as they had been when he first noticed them. He didn't care. As long as they didn't try to stop him, he didn't give a damn what they did.

At the foot of the stairs, he raised his voice. "Katy! Katy, can you hear me? I'm coming for you! Don't worry, Ozzie's here!"

"Ozzie!" He barely made out her cry. The fear in her voice spurred him beyond caution. Taking the steps two at a time, he charged on. Halfway up the first flight, a bone like snap cracked out from under his foot. The stair gave way to his weight. Sinking into the steps, he grabbed at the railing. It broke away from him, crashing to the floor below.

Clawing at the faded brown carpet lining the floor of the landing, Oz hauled himself onto more solid ground. Pain sliced through his leg. It radiated outward from the gash in his thigh. Blood oozed out, staining his pants dark red. Since it was only a thin trickle, he ignored it. Swallowing hard, he forced himself back to his feet.

Despite the danger of repeating the accident on the first flight of stairs, he rushed up the second. He stayed to the sides of the steps, hoping they were sturdier than the rest. The pain in his thigh grew, a firebrand searing the muscle. Before he reached the top of the stairs, he'd begun to limp heavily on his left leg. Sweat drenched his brow, trickled into his eyes. With an angry swipe, he wiped it away. He wasn't going to let it or anything else stop him.

He stumbled to his knees on the last landing. He wheezed dust laden air, panting to catch his breath. It took him several seconds to notice the cold eyes that had been watching him were closer now. Oz waited for another long moment sure they would descend on him like sharks on the scent of blood. They didn't move. He couldn't understand why they didn't attack, but he had no energy to waste on them.

He grunted and shoved himself back up on his feet. The growing fire of pain in his leg kept him from running down the hall as he wanted. His steps thudded and scrapped announcing his approach better than if he'd shouted, ready or not, here I come! Yet, the house was quiet. He couldn't hear Katy crying, and he knew this close he should have.

The hairs bristled along the back of his neck. The silence was becoming unbearable. He had to end it! "Katy? Katy, where are you?" The desperation was thick in his voice.

You sound worried! And to think I haven't even had a chance to taste the girl yet! The shadow laughed. His dark form stood in front of the entrance to the room where Oz had saved Jake a lifetime ago.

Nothing to say? Well, I must admit, I expected more from you! Your father kept me locked down even after he died. You, more cold laughter echoed out. You have barely put a hitch in my step! The temperature seemed to drop with every word he said.

Oz couldn't move. He still had no idea what to do. The shadow reached into the room behind him. Are you just going to stand there? You did come for this? He dragged Katy out into the hall. Didn't you? He mocked, shaking her like a bundle of rags.

"Let her go!" Oz shouted, staggering toward Katy.

Ha! Your father thought you would stop me! His laughter shot at Oz like icy bullets. He sacrificed a lot to keep me away from you and for what? 'Let her go!' He mimicked Oz exactly.

"Fuck you!" he shouted, rage and fear boiling up inside of him.

Oh, that hurt! Tossing Katy back into the room, the darkness waved his shadow hand at Oz. Get him!

The watchers that had been following Oz spun around to circle him. They were faint wisps that Oz could barely see. The air grew frigid as they closed in. The pain in his leg became numb with the chill. He swung at one of the passing spirits, his hand connected with nothing. The spirit struck back. Oz fell to the floor with a thud.

A scream of agony echoed from the spirit. For some reason touching him, hurt them, but he didn't know why, it didn't work the other way around. Oz sat up, his mind racing for a way to fight the ghosts off.

You're a key in more ways than you know. His great-grandmother's words tumbled into his thoughts. He didn't know what that meant. What was he a key to? The answer eluded him.

Follow my instincts, they both told me that! He considered. But his instincts weren't speaking to him now. The spirits were hovering inches away, unwilling to touch him again.

Slow and easy he pushed himself up onto his right knee. Frantically, he searched his mind for some way to get Katy out of there. The wind at the farm! His instincts whispered finally, reminding him of how he had defeated the spirit then. Releasing them from their earthly ties might be the answer. But on the farm that had been one spirit, would it work on this many? Hell, I don't even know how I did it! Despite these worries, he struggled the rest of the way to his feet.

Have faith. His great-grandmother's advice filled his head. He took a deep breath and opened his arms wide. A silence settled through the house. Faint light washed the hallway. It took Oz a heartbeat to realize the light came from him.

What are you doing? The shadow's voice shook.

"I'm a key to free these stolen spirits." Oz almost laughed. The fear that oozed off the shadow was nearly palatable. Before he could relish the moment, one of the spirits flung itself at him.

Cold, the heart of winter itself, enveloped him, wrapped him tight in frost. He struggled to breathe, to stay his ground. Yet as he fought the spirit, he accepted it, drew it in. Unlike with the one on the farm, there was no wail, no sounds of pain at all. It was just gone, a whispered thank you drifting in Oz's ears.

Oz staggered forward to steady himself. The light that shimmering off of him flashed brighter. The glow pushed the darkness back a step.

Suddenly there were too many spirits spinning around Oz. They were a haze of white, a complete ring around him, clouding his view of the hall. The shadow laughed. You thought releasing one of my prisoners would defeat me? Now, they'll tear you to pieces!

All of the spirits circling him slammed into his chest. He flew back, crashing to the floor, his body too numb to notice. Have faith in yourself. His great-grandmother's voice echoed through his mind like a command from on high. Shivering with the cold, he accepted the spirits. It felt like they were ripping him apart as the shadow had said, but he held on, drawing every single one of them in that he could.

Thank you! The whisper floated around him for several seconds after the spirits vanished. Oz wasn't sure he could move. He wasn't sure he was even alive still.

WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? The darkness bellowed.

"I've released them," Oz groaned and opened his eyes. Light flooded the hall. It took him several seconds to get his eyes to adjust to the glow pouring off of him. He didn't understand, not completely, what had happened, but he wasn't going to let his ignorance stop him. With slow care, he sat up. The shadow kneeled at the end of the hall. His form had faded, his edges blurred. "Now, I'm going to send you on." Oz climbed to his knees, not recovered enough to make it all the way to his feet yet.

The darkness snapped his head up. Oz could almost see a face in the black shroud. You didn't release them all! He threw out his arms.

Stretched tapers of gray swirled around the darkness. The spirits were tainted, dirty from the shadow's touch. You aren't the only one who can take in spirits! A howl of agony stabbed into Oz's ears. A rainbow of dark light danced before his eyes. The shadow grew, its blackness thickening back into oily pools again.

The shadow ate the spirits! Fear trickled into Oz's heart. The white glow surrounding him had dimmed. The shadow's aura was almost as strong as his.

I think I'll keep you alive long enough to watch me taste the girl! The darkness laughed.

Pure rage surged through Oz like a tidal wave of righteous anger. "You bastard! I'll see you in hell before I let you touch her!" He lunged to his feet. The limp was gone from his left leg as he slammed into the shadow.

Cries rang through the house. Oz couldn't tell if they were his own or the shadow's; he didn't care. With everything he had in him, he accepted the foul spirit. The cold burned, seeping into his bones.

No! You can't do this! The shadow screamed.

"Robert Jacobs, for the crimes you have committed against this town and the world, I sentence you to the void!" Oz shouted, using the name that he'd heard in his vision of the shadow's capture and execution.

A scream of agony beyond imagination flooded the house. With an explosion like force, Oz was thrown to the floor. Echoes of the shadow's last cry bounced around the hall. Oz lay there gasping for air. The cold was slowly leaving his body, and leaving behind all the pain and aches he'd received in the fight.

"Ozzie!" Katy squealed, collapsing on top of him.

"Katy!" He crushed her to his chest and thanked God. "Let's get you home!"

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

THE WEDDING

A hush, the silence of a gathered mass to witness a solemn occasion, filled the small chapel. It was heavy, a weight Oz could feel in his chest. But the soft murmuring and shuffling of the people seated before him kept it from dragging him down.

"NO! NO! NO!" A child wailed before someone could quiet him down. Oz smiled. That sign of life gave him hope, though, the butterflies in his stomach continued to bang around like they were driving bumper cars. He didn't understand why he was so nervous; he'd been waiting for this day for a long, long time.

In the first pew on the left sat his soon to be in-laws. Mandy grinned and gave him the thumbs-up sign. Across from them was his own family. Doug's smile was a beam of pride from ear to ear. Katy sat in his lap, waving at Oz. She'd had an easier time forgetting about what had happened than Oz had expected. His smile grew. It was remarkable how well she could cope.

The music sounded, the organist played his heart out. Oz let out a small sigh, thankful that The Wedding March sounded exactly like it was supposed to. He looked down the aisle. Somehow, he wasn't surprised to see his parents standing at the back of the crowd. In fact, he'd been hoping that they'd make an appearance. His grandmother stood beside them, wiping at the crystalline tears that tumbled down her phantom cheeks. All thoughts of the astral members of his family left his mind when Sara stepped into view. The blue-white lace couldn't hide her smile. Oz's heart pounded in his ears. The heavy drumbeat doubled with every step Sara took.

He couldn't hear the music stop or the pastor begin the ceremony. And all he could see was the woman in front of him. Her dark eyes shining with unshed tears, the dimple flashing in her cheek, and the wild waterfall of auburn curls framing her face were his world. Somewhere far off, his body continued through the vows, repeating what the pastor spoke. Then Sara's turn came; again, the voices were too far away for him to hear anything over the jackhammer in his chest.

"Now I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride." Those words came through loud and clear.

An explosion of cheers shot up when their lips met. Oz was too enraptured to notice. His life was exactly what he'd always dreamed it to be. Sara was his wife, Katy was now his daughter, and his family was going to grow.

Looking up where his parents stood, he watched them fade like a sunset. And if any more spirits bother me, I'll have all the support I could ever need to take care of it. He kissed Sara again and then caught Katy up in his arms as she dashed to them, his world finally complete.

