Page 22 of Our Lips Are Sealed
A stream of lightning struck the inlet, sending water splashing into the air. The thunder that followed rattled the earth beneath her feet, and Laura Jean had experienced enough of these visions to know it was time to go.
Something was coming.
Rebecca and the woman screeched a piercing cry that had Laura Jean covering her ears as they raised their elongated arms in sync, fingers pointing at a commotion on the edge of the lawn by the forest.
It was a man and two—no, three—women fleeing into the woods. Before the group vanished beyond the trees, the last woman looked back towards the house, directly at where Laura Jean stood.
It was her Evie.
And she was terrified.
Laura Jean bolted off the porch, running at them. She broke through the trees in time to see the group turn towards the graveyard and tried to follow, but an invisible barrier blocked the way.
Beating upon the wall holding her back, she yelled her daughter’s name, but it was no use. She could go no further.
That was when the screaming started.
A rush of footsteps approached from behind, and a man barreled past Laura Jean, turning the corner in the right direction.
Rebecca and the young woman came through next, holding hands, their toes scraping the ground as they drifted down the path.
“It’s almost time, Laura Jean. Don’t be late.”
The voice raked like knives through her, and Laura Jean cried out in pain, falling to her knees in the dirt. She screamed for Ben until she was sobbing. These nightmares were becoming worse lately, but he was always there to make them stop.
“Ben, please wake me up.”
And then he was there.
Exploding onto the path, Ben halted under the canopy, his eyes searching the wood.
“The graveyard,” she yelled, stumbling to her feet. “They’re headed to the graveyard.”
But as she reached him, Laura Jean skidded to a stop. It wasn’t Ben. The familiar dark eyes and sharp features had fooled her.
“Samuel?”
He was so grown and looked so very like his father.
“Samuel!”
He continued to ignore her, scanning the area frantically.
“Look at me,” she shouted in his face, but nothing.
Blowing a deep breath, she laid a hand on his chest, and the pain radiating from him had Laura Jean gasping. His heart. It was breaking.
And it was breaking for her Evie.
Drawing on the past, she closed her eyes, remembering the things her grand-mère had taught her. “Graveyard,” she whispered into him the way she dared not ever do in dreams. “He took Evie to the graveyard.”
The veil thinned with a rush of wind, and Samuel’s eyes met hers.
“Graveyard,” she repeated, her voice echoing. “Evie is in the graveyard.”
And then the world fell away.
Laura Jean tumbled helplessly through the nothing, head over feet, until landing in a hospital bed with a baby Jamison cradled in her arms.
