Page 49 of Shadowed Witness

“Okay, okay? Or are you just being polite?” She continued on before Allye could answer. “Because if you’re just being polite, you can stuff it. I want the truth.”

Allye sighed. “The truth? I still feel lousy.”

“And you don’t know what’s causing it?”

Yes. No. Maybe. How was she supposed to answer that?

“Come on, Allye.”

Was she ready to share? Not really, but confiding in Eric had broken the ice. She’d said the words once—admitting what she feared didn’t seem quite as scary now. So she did. She blurted it all, unable to stop once she’d begun.

After she finished, there was a long pause on the line.

“I’m so, so sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Allye sniffed. “You’ve got your hands full with Jenna. I didn’t mean to burden you with my junk.”

“Listen here, Allye Jessup. We’re family—more than that, we’re friends. Did you consider me a burden when I called you, scared about Jenna’s diagnosis?”

“Of course not. But that isn’t—”

“It is exactly the same. And if you remember, I asked for the truth.” Her voice softened. “I’m here for you—whether that means providing a listening ear, or helping you get to appointments, or coming along for moral support when you decide to talk to your mom.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

After she ended the call, she dragged herself to her bedroom. Again she had no energy to change. She fell into bed as she was.

Silence enveloped her. She stared up at the ceiling. She kept telling people she was fine—or would be. She told Eric she’d be fine even if it turned out she had MS. Was she telling the truth?

“God, I’m scared.” Terrified, if she were being totally honest. Not of death really—whether at the hand of a criminal or potential complications of a disease. She knew where she was going no matter how short or long her life was. In that, she really would be fine. But fear still hovered over her.

Of what? Of what she might have to go through? Of not being able to fulfill her life’s purpose—whatever that was? Of being a burden on her family? Or of the very real possibility that she’d never have a family of her own, never find someone who would dare to love her despite her illness?

Yeah. Maybe a bit of all of that.

She rolled to her side and curled into a ball. Pain shot through her neck and down into her right arm.

Things weren’t supposed to be this way. There was so much she wanted to do, to accomplish. So much she felt responsible for. So many people she cared about.

She wasn’t ready to give up on any of those things. Dread pressed in on her—almost tangible, as if her attacker was squeezing the life out of her right now. Her lungs refused to fill. She grabbed a fistful of blanket and tried to ground herself.

The words from one of her favorite psalms popped into her mind.“When I am afraid, I put my trust in you.”She turned the words over in her mind, then forced them through her lips. Focused on a tiny blotch on the ceiling. Repeated the words. The pressure around her chest loosened slightly. She repeated the words once more, willing herself to mean them.

It helped. She drew in a deep, ragged breath. And another.

For a few moments, she lay still. Then a spasm started in her leg. She twisted in an attempt to ease it. That pain wasn’t going to go away by calming her anxiety. “I still trust you,” she mumbled.

Sleep. She seriously needed to rest her mind as well as her body. Last thing she needed was to be a vibrating bundle of nerves for the MRI in the morning.

23

Despite Zhan’s Pizzabeing located barely three miles from her house, Allye still managed to show up late nearly every time she and her mom met for a dinner date. She’d arrived ten minutes early today. And she’d only had to plan for an extra thirty minutes to do it. She’d needed to get out of the house and distract herself from worrying over the yet-to-be-revealed MRI results.

Her mom wasn’t here yet, so she snagged their favorite table and ordered tea for both of them, sweet for herself, unsweet for her mom. Allye had cut back on her sugar intake lately, but Zhan’s sweet tea was a treat she wasn’t quite ready to give up.

Despite the late hour, the restaurant still had a reasonable number of dine-in customers present. The tables close to theirs were empty, relegating the various conversations to an unintelligible hum punctuated by frequent laughter. It had been several days with no sightings, weird or otherwise, and Allye could almost convince herself things were normal.

She smiled. This place felt like home. She’d done a photo shoot here earlier in the year. Zhan’s had wanted new promo photos, and she’d wanted to use them as a setting for a “Spirit of Kincaid” series she had planned. The result had been a lovely collection of portraits and candids showing customers and restaurant stafflaughing, chatting, and enjoying each other’s company over the best carbs in town.

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