Comes the Blind Fury

must have!”

“Cal, if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to start screaming!”

“Susan Peterson is dead!”

For a moment, June simply stared at him, as if the words had no meaning. When she finally spoke, her voice was a whisper.

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. Susan Peterson is dead, and Michelle saw it happen. She really didn’t tell you?” As best he could, Cal recounted exactly what had happened at the Bensons,’ and what Constance Benson had told him.

As June listened, she felt an edge of fear begin to grow in her, sharpening with each word. By the time Cal was finished, it was all June could do to keep from shaking. Susan Peterson couldn’t be dead, and Michelle couldn’t have seen anything. If she had, she would have said something. Of course she would have.

“And Michelle really didn’t say anything when she came home this afternoon?”

“Nothing,” June said. “Not a word. It’s — it’s unbelievable.”

“That’s what I keep telling myself.” Cal got to his feet. “I’d better go up and have a talk with her. She can’t just pretend nothing happened.”

He started out of the room. June rose to follow him.

“I’d better go with you. She must be horribly upset.”

They found Michelle lying on her bed, a book propped on her chest, her doll tucked in the crook of her left arm. As her parents appeared at the door, she looked up at them curiously.

Cal came directly to the point. “Michelle, I think you’d better tell us what happened this afternoon.”

Michelle frowned slightly, then shrugged. “This afternoon? Nothing happened. I just came home.”

“Didn’t you stop at the graveyard? Didn’t you talk to Susan Peterson?”

“Only for a minute,” Michelle said. Her expression told June that she clearly didn’t think it was worth talking about. When Cal began to demand the details of their conversation, June interrupted him.

“You didn’t tell me you’d seen Susan,” she said carefully, trying not to betray anything. For some reason, it seemed important to hear Michelle’s version of the story from Michelle’s point of view, rather than in response to Cal’s impatient questioning.

“I only saw her for a minute or two,” Michelle said. “She was messing around in the cemetery, and when I asked her what she was doing, she started teasing me. She — she called me a cripple, and said I ‘gimped.’ ”

“And what did you do?” June asked gently. She settled herself on the bed and took Michelle’s hand in her own, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Nothing. I started to go into the graveyard, but then Susan ran away.”

“She ran away? Where to?”

“I don’t know. She just disappeared into the fog.”

June’s eyes flicked to the window. The sun, as it had all day, was glistening on the sea. “Fog? But there hasn’t been any fog today.”

Michelle looked at her mother in puzzlement, then shifted her gaze to her father. He seemed to be angry with her. But what had she done? She couldn’t understand what they wanted of her. She shrugged helplessly. “All I know is that when I was in the cemetery, the fog suddenly came in. It was really thick, and I couldn’t see much of anything. And when Susan ran away, she just disappeared into the fog.”

“Did you hear anything?” June asked.

Michelle thought a moment, then nodded. “There was something — sort of a scream. I guess Susan must have tripped or something.”

My God, June thought. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t even know what happened.

“I see,” she said slowly. “And after you heard Susan scream, what did you do?”

“Do? I–I came home.”

“But, darling,” June said. “If the fog was so thick, how could you find your way home?”

Michelle smiled at her. “It was easy,” she said. “Mandy led me. The fog doesn’t bother Mandy at all.”

It was only by the sheer force of her will that June kept from screaming.

CHAPTER 18

Supper that evening was nearly intolerable for June. Michelle sat placidly, apparently unbothered by what had happened that afternoon. Cal’s silence, a silence that had begun as Michelle told them what had happened that afternoon, hung over the table like a shroud. Throughout the meal, June’s eyes flicked from her husband to her elder daughter, constantly wary, constantly vigilant, on the watch for something — anything — that would lend the atmosphere a hint of normality.

And that, she realized as she cleared the table when the meal was finally over, was the problem — the situation appeared too normal, and it seemed as though she was the only person aware that it was not. As she stacked the dishes in the sink, she found herself beginning to question her own sanity. Twice, she started to leave the kitchen, and stopped herself. Finally, the tension was too much to bear.

“I think we have to talk,” she said to Cal, coming into the living room. Michelle was nowhere to be seen: June assumed she was in her room. Cal was holding Jennifer in his lap, bouncing her gently and talking to her. As June spoke, he looked up from the baby and regarded his wife cautiously.

Talk about what?” Cal stared at her, and June could see a wall go up in front of his eyes, a wall that threatened to shut her out entirely. He frowned slightly, the skin around his eyes crinkling into deep lines. When he spoke, his voice was brittle. “I don’t know that there’s anything to talk about”

June’s mouth worked for a moment, then she found her voice. “Don’t know!” she exclaimed. Then she repeated the phrase, louder. “Don’t know? My God, Cal, we have to get help for her.” What was he doing? Was he shutting everything out? Ignoring everything that was happening? Of course he was. She could see it in his eyes.

“I don’t think anything’s so terribly wrong.”

And there it was. That was why he’d been so silent since Michelle had told them her version of the afternoon — he was simply blocking it all out. But she had to find a way to get through to him. “How can you say that?” she asked, struggling to keep her voice calm and reasonable. “Today Susan Peterson died, and Michelle was there — she saw it, or at least she should have seen it. If she really didn’t, then we’re in more trouble than I even thought. She hasn’t got any friends, except Mandy, who’s a doll, for God’s sake. And now there’s this thing with the fog. Cal, there wasn’t any fog today — I know, I was here all day, and the sun was out. Cal, she must be losing her vision! And you say you don’t think anything’s terribly wrong? Are you blind?” June stopped suddenly, realizing her voice had risen and become shrill. But it didn’t matter. Cal’s eyes were icy now, and she knew what he was going to say before he spoke.

“I won’t hear this, June. You want me to believe I’ve made Michelle crazy. I haven’t. She’s fine. She had a shock this afternoon, and blocked it. That’s a normal reaction. Do you understand? It’s normal!”

Stunned, June sank into a chair, and tried to gather her thoughts into some kind of coherency. Cal was right: there was nothing left to talk about — something had to be done.

“Now listen to me,” she heard Cal saying, his voice calm, his words maniacally reasonable. “You weren’t there this afternoon, and I was. I heard what Constance Benson had to say, and I heard what Michelle had to say, and it doesn’t make much difference whom you believe — Michelle had nothing to do with what happened to Susan. Even Mrs. Benson didn’t say Michelle did anything — all she said was that Michelle didn’t react to what happened. Well, how could she have? She must have been in a state of shock. So how could she react?”

Half of June’s mind was listening to what Cal was saying, but the other half was screaming in protest. He