Kathleen heaved for air again. “Maggs, you know this is for me, too. This is better than I could have ever hoped. I’m happy. Please let me be happy.”
How could she possibly make her sister understand when it was so hard to speak? When the dark stuff filled her lungs and choked her breath? Her own heart monitor started jumping, its beeps closer together. Likewise, the baby’s shush-shush increased, the digital number climbing.
Instantly, Maggie was on her feet. “Kathy, I’m so sorry. Honey, just breathe. In and out. In and out.” She exaggerated the action on her behalf.
Kathleen concentrated on the flow at her nostrils, willing the good air to feed her blood, move her heart, and keep her baby growing for just a little while longer. Twenty-five weeks was the golden number, but every day gave her baby girl a better chance to survive. Every day was another 3 percent, that’s what the doctor said.
Maggie visibly swallowed, her face reddening as she nodded and blinked back tears. “Okay. Don’t worry about it. The baby first, like we agreed.” She swiped at her cheek. “I swear I’ll be here. I won’t let them budge me from your side.”
“The baby’s side,” Kathleen corrected and managed a smile, her eyes fluttering closed. With Maggie’s promise, her hold on wakefulness weakened and sleep sucked her down.
“But I’m going to hope for you, too,” Maggs said, her voice following Kathleen into slumber, the firm grip on her hand never loosening.
Flying. Her favorite kind of dream.
Kathleen skimmed the topmost branches of the trees—higher!—then burst out over the eastward cliff of Sugar-loaf Mountain to careen into a turn above a storybook patchwork landscape. The air smelled sharp and summer sweet as she rushed headlong into the dazzling blue. She filled her eyes with the color until her heart could hardly bear more.
Dizzy, she cast her gaze downward, to the rocks she’d picnicked at with her family when she was little. The scene was recalled in wondrous detail from the murk of her memory. Lush trees, dark green. Screaming bugs. Grassy patches, with large, white boulders. Rocky, rooty trails leading off in a couple directions.
Mom was laying out their lunches, waving away interested bees, while Dad dumped excess water from their cooler. Her sister, Maggie, inched closer and closer to the steep drop, yelling toward the woods, “Kathleen! I can see our house!”
The dream suddenly morphed, and Kathleen was seven years old, headed on foot into the tall red and white oaks on the mountain. Old, dusty leaves crumbled underfoot. The fragrant, humid air cooled as she moved deeper into the forest. Her heart skittered in her chest and stars pricked into her vision, but she didn’t care. The trees were sparkling and sighing and swaying. Like magic.
“Stay away from the edge, Maggie,” Dad called from somewhere behind her.
Kathleen quickened her pace, picking her way over the jut and hump of tree roots. If Mom or Dad saw her, they’d make her go back. Sit down. Rest.
She was sick of rest. Of new treatments for her heart. Ever since she was born, something had been wrong with it, a condition named with big words she never wanted to learn. But she knew what they meant: She might never grow up.
It was much better to explore the woods than sit bored. She’d have all the time in the world to sit bored at home. Later. This was her chance. How deep could she go before they’d come after her?
Excitement made her breath short, her heart glub-glub before settling again. An adventure at last!
The air around her shimmered. The shadows shifted from patchy grays and blacks to purples and blues. The colors of a fairy tale. Beckoning. Drawing her into a story.
I’m a princess, lost in a magical forest.
She stumbled on a loop of root. Her heart glubbed again. Once, hard. She had to check her breath, but she wasn’t going back. Not yet.
Silvery, tinkling music, like from her jewelry box, filtered through the trunks. It was that Disney song she loved that her mom said was really Tchaikovsky.
Coming from . . . that way . . .
She veered off the trail onto the leafy, trippy ground. At the edge of her sight, strange forms darted among the trees. Breathing became easier, the air sweeter. Made her head buzz.
She lifted the skirt of her gold, bejeweled dress. Because that’s what she’d be wearing. Gold and jewels and a tiara with diamonds sparkling bright.
Deeper, deeper into the pretty purple. Her heart was strong here. This was where she’d meet her prince.
Within the darkening trees, the shadows unfolded like shiny black crows’wings, and there he stood. He had long, silky black hair. He was tall and had way more muscles than her dad. His eyes were black-black in a sharp and serious face, but he didn’t scare her. He could never scare her. He’d been there all her life, guarding her dreams.
Her Shadowman.
“Kathleen, love, go back,” he said, voice urgent.