Sanctuary

the shadows.
    Sweat began to run down her back, icy panic sweat. She couldn’t draw enough air, no matter how fast and hard she tried to gulp it in. Part of her mind held firm, lecturing her: You know the signs, Jo Ellen, don’t let it win, don’t let go. If you break down, you’ll be back in the hospital again. Just get a grip. Get a grip.
    She pressed a hand to her mouth to hold back the screams, but they came through in whimpers. She could feel herself begin to crack, terror pushing viciously against will until she simply turned her face to the door, slapping it weakly with her palm.
    “Please, please, let me out. Don’t leave me in here alone.”
    She heard the sound of feet crunching on the path, opened her mouth to shout. Then the fear grew monstrous, shoved her stumbling back. Her eyes were wide and fixed on the door, her pulse pounding painfully against her skin. There was a scrape and an oath. Her vision spun, grayed, then went blind as the door swung open and brilliant sunlight poured in.
    She saw the silhouette of a man. As her knees buckled, she fumbled for the mop again, jabbing it out like a sword. “Don’t come near me.”
    “Jo Ellen? What the hell’s going on?”
    “Daddy?” The mop clattered to the floor. She nearly followed it, but his hands caught her arms, drew her up.
    “What happened here?”
    “I couldn’t get out. I couldn’t. He’s watching. I couldn’t get away.”
    At the moment all Sam knew was that she was pale as death and shaking so hard he could almost hear her bones rattle. Moving on instinct, he picked her up and carried her out into the sun. “It’s all right now. You’re all right, pudding.”
    It was an old endearment both of them had forgotten. Jo pressed her face to his shoulder, holding tight when he sat on a stone bench with her cradled on his lap.
    She was so small still, Sam thought with surprise. How could that be when she always looked so tall and competent? Whenever she’d had nightmares as a child, she’d curled up in his lap just this way, he remembered. She’d always wanted him when her dreams were bad.
    “Don’t be afraid. Nothing to be afraid of now.”
    “I couldn’t get out.”
    “I know. Somebody’d braced some wood against the door. Kids, that’s all. Playing pranks.”
    “Kids.” She shuddered it out, clung to it as she did to him. “Kids playing pranks. Yes. They turned the lights off, shut me in. I panicked.” She kept her eyes closed a moment longer, trained her breathing back to level. “I didn’t even have the sense to turn them back on. I just couldn’t think.”
    “You had a scare. Didn’t used to scare so easy.”
    “No.” She opened her eyes now. “I didn’t.”
    “Time was you’d have busted down that door and torn the hide off whoever was fooling with you.”
    It nearly made her smile, his memory image of her. “Would I?”
    “Always had a mean streak.” Because she’d stopped trembling, and she was a grown woman and no longer the child he’d once comforted, he patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Guess you softened up some.”
    “More than some.”
    “I don’t know. I thought you were going to run that mop handle clean through me for a minute. Who’d you mean was watching you?”
    “What?”
    “You said he was watching you. Who’d you mean?”
    The photographs, she thought. Her own face. Annabelle’s. Jo shook her head quickly and shifted away. Not now, was all she could think. Not yet. “I was just babbling. Scared stupid. I’m sorry.”
    “No need to be. Girl, you’re white as a sheet yet. We’ll get you home.”
    “I left all the stuff inside.”
    “I’ll tend to it. You just sit here until you get your legs back under you.”
    “I think I will.” But when he started to rise, she reached for his hand. “Daddy. Thanks for—chasing the monsters away.”
    He looked at their joined hands. Hers was slim and white—her mother’s hand, he thought with unbearable sadness. But he looked at her face, and saw his daughter. “I used to be pretty good at it, I guess.”
    “You were great at it. You still are.”
    Because his hand suddenly felt clumsy, he let hers go and stepped back. “I’ll put the things away, then we’ll head home. You probably just need some breakfast.”
    No, Jo thought as she watched him walk away. She needed her father. And until that moment, she hadn’t had a clue just how much.

TWELVE
    J O wasn’t in a picnic mood any longer. Even the thought of food