Page 62 of The Bride Wore White

He eased Clara into the rear compartment of the vehicle, closed the door, and went around the hood to get behind the wheel. Prudence got into the front seat, then turned and knelt to lean over the back so she could keep an eye on her patient. Jack put the car in gear and continued on to Cliff Road.

“Clara,” Prudence said gently. “Can you hear me?”

Clara stirred and opened her eyes. She stared at Prudence as if seeing a ghost.

“You were supposed to die in the fire,” she managed, her voice trembling in confusion and dismay. “Why are you alive?”

“Who told you I was going to die, Clara?”

“Gilbert. He came to me in a vision. He said you would die tonight.”

“Clara, that’s impossible. Gilbert is dead. You buried him.”

“His spirit visits me.”

“Keep the questions specific,” Jack said, not taking his eyes off the road. “Try to get her to deal with facts.”

Prudence leaned farther over the seat and touched Clara’s hand. She was startled by how cold the woman felt.

“When does Gilbert visit you?” she asked.

“At night.”

The sirens were very close now. Jack braked to a halt and flashed the headlights. The first truck stopped.

“I’ll be right back,” Jack said.

He climbed out of the seat and went forward into the headlights to explain the situation.

Prudence touched the crystal pendant at her throat and tightened her grip on Clara’s hand. She steadied her nerves for the jolt that was coming and cautiously heightened her senses.

She was braced for the disturbing storm of energy, but she was shocked by how chaotic it was.

“Tell me about your last vision of Gilbert, Clara,” she said.

“He spoke to me tonight,” Clara moaned.

“Were you in bed when he appeared?”

“Yes. He told me the time had come.”

The door opened. Jack got behind the wheel. He started to speak but stopped when he realized Clara was talking. Without a word he drove toward the lights of Burning Cove in the distance.

“How did you get to the fire?” Prudence asked.

“Good question,” Jack said very softly.

Clara struggled for a moment. “I can’t remember.” She suddenly became agitated. “Why can’t I remember?”

Prudence glanced at Clara’s slippered feet. The soles of the shoes were scuffed and dirty, but they did not appear to be badly damaged.

“Did you walk?” Prudence asked, battling the headwinds of Clara’s wild dream energy to hold the focus.

“No.” Clara sounded very certain.

“Did you drive to the scene of the fire?” Prudence asked.

“I haven’t driven in years.”

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