She replaced the receiver on the cradle and shoved her hands into her pockets.
Poor Brad. Always the peacemaker—first between that man and Mom, now between that man and her. But how could he think she could ever...
Carrie’s right hand pressed against the two little Zip-loc bags in her pocket. The powdered nail clippings and the ground-up hair...
The stuff of miracles.
She decided to make a pilgrimage to the hospital.
‡
Carrie stood outside the door to CCU and trembled like one of her homeless guests in the throes of withdrawal.
How bad could this be?
She didn’t know. And that was what terrified her. Fourteen years since she’d last seen that man. Half her life. Sixteen years since he’d started sneaking into her bedroom at night...
And Brad...how much had her older brother known?
He’d never said. They’d never discussed it, never laid it out on the table between them and stared at it. He always referred to it as “the trouble” between her and that man. Brad could have been discussing wrecking the family car or getting sick drunk. “The trouble”...
Some trouble.
At first, as a pre-teen, Carrie had been afraid Brad would hate her if he found out, hate her as much as she hated herself. And then she’d thought, he has to know. How can he not know?
And if he knew, why didn’t he say something? Why didn’t he help her? Why didn’t he do something to stop that man?
Carrie was pretty sure Brad had spent the years since she ran away asking himself those same questions. She wondered what answers he came up with. She wondered if he’d ever really faced what that man he called Dad had done to his little sister. Probably hadn’t. Probably had it hidden in some dark corner of his mind, buried under a pile of other childhood and teenage memories where he couldn’t see it.
But he could smell it. Carrie knew the stink of those two hideous years had affected the rest of Brad’s life. Incessant work...a life so filled with deadlines and meetings and shuttling between coasts that that it left no room for old memories to surface...a life alone, without a wife or even a steady live-in, because a lasting relationship might lead to children and God knows what he might do if he ever fathered a little girl...
Carrie half turned away from the CCU door, ready to leave, then turned back as Brad’s final words echoed through her brain.
You’re better than he is, Carrie! Act like it!
She set her jaw, numbed her feelings, and forced herself to push through into the CCU.
White...white walls, white curtains between the white-sheeted beds, white-clad nurses gliding from bed to bed, bright white sunlight streaming through the southern windows...flashing monitors, hissing respirators, murmuring voices...
Carrie turned to flee. She couldn’t do this.
“Can I help you, Sister?” said a young nurse with a clipboard.
Carrie mechanically handed her the visitor pass. “W—Walter Ferris?”
A smile. “Bed Two.” She pointed to the far end of the unit. “He’s stable now, but please limit your visit to no more than ten minutes.”
Ten minutes? Might as well say ten eternities.
The air become gelatinous and Carrie had to force her way through it toward Bed Two. She couldn’t breathe, her knees wobbled, her hands shook, her intestines knotted, she had to go to the bathroom, but she kept pushing forward. Finally she was standing at the foot of the bed. She compelled her eyes to look down at it occupant.
The room spun about her as she stared at a pale, grizzled, wizened old man with thin white hair and sunken features. His hospital gown seemed to lay flat against the mattress. Wires and tubes ran under that gown, a clear tube ran into his right nostril, a ribbed plastic hose protruded from his mouth and was connected to a respirator that pumped and hissed as it filled and emptied his lungs. His eyes were closed.
He looked dead.
She moved to the side of the bed, opposite of where a nurse was swabbing the inside of his mouth with some sort of giant Q-tip.
“What are you doing?” Carrie asked.
The nurse looked up, another young one, blonde. They all seemed young in here.
“Just running a lemon swab over his oral membranes. Keeps them moist. Makes him more comfortable. You must be his daughter. Your brother’s mentioned you a lot but he said you couldn’t come.”
Carrie could only nod.
The nurse dropped the swab into a cup of water on the bedside table. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
Carrie fought the urge to grab her and hold her here.
No! Please don’t leave me alone with him!
But the nurse hurried off. Carrie thanked God he was asleep. She’d do what she came here to do and then leave.
“I forgive you,” she said softly.
Who knew what torment he’d been going through during Mom’s illness? Perhaps something had snapped within him...temporary insanity. There was a good chance he’d never done anything like that before or since. One sick period in an entire life...true, that period had scarred both his children for the rest of their lives, but now, at the end of his days, it was time for forgiveness. These were words Carrie had thought she’d never say, but her time with the Virgin had brought a change within her, a softening.
Humans are frail, and there is no sin that cannot be forgiven.
“I forgive you,” she repeated.
And his eyes opened. Watery blue, struggling to focus, they narrowed, then widened. He saw her, he knew her. A trembling hand lifted, grasped her fingers where they clung to the side rail.
Touch...he was touching her again!
It took everything Carrie had not to snatch her hand away and run screaming from the CCU. She hung on, quelling the urge to vomit as he squeezed her fingers in his arthritic grasp.
And then he loosened his grip and his fingers began to caress the back of her hand. She felt her intestines writhe with revulsion but she kept her hand where it was.
He’s half out of his mind, she told herself. Disoriented... doesn’t know what he’s doing.
But then she saw the smile twisting his lips, and the look in his eyes. No repentance there, no guilt...more like fond memories.
Carrie pulled her hand away. She wanted to run but she stood firm. Maybe she was projecting. Wasn’t that what they called it when you saw what you expected to see? Maybe he was just glad to see her and she was misinterpreting his responses. After all, she hadn’t laid eyes on him in fourteen years...
She couldn’t run now. Not after she’d made it this far. Besides, she’d come here on a mission.
To give him a chance.
She glanced around. All the nurses were busy. She pulled out the Zip-loc baggie filled with the filed nails from the Virgin and dipped a finger into the powder. Originally she’d planned to mix it with a few drops of water and let him drink it, but with all these tubes running in and out of him, she didn’t see how that would be possible. But that citrus swab looked perfect.
She pulled it from the plastic cup, transferred the powder from her finger to the swab, and then leaned over the bed.
He was still looking at her with that...that expression in his eyes. She shuddered and concentrated on his mouth, slipping the swab through his open lips and running it across his dry tongue and up and down the insides of his cheeks.
His smile broadened. His hand reached up to grab her wrist but she pulled back in time to avoid him.
“There,” she said softly. “I’ve done my part. The rest is between you and God.”
He continued to stare at her, grinning lasciviously. She couldn’t stand it anymore. She’d done her duty. No use in torturing herself any longer.
“I’m going to go now. I never—”
Suddenly his smile vanished and he began to writhe in the bed. Carrie heard the beeps of his cardiac monitor increase their tempo. She glanced up and saw the blips chasing each other across the screen. She smelled something burning, and when she looked down, black, oily smoke was seeping out around the edges of his hospital gown. The skin of his arms began to darken and smoke.