The Prediction, page 1
THE PREDICTION
Jean Rezab
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
CHAPTER 1 | 1991
CHAPTER 2 | 2019
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
Acknowledgments
Copyright
Also By Jean Rezab
About the Author
To all the medical professionals who have saved countless lives through their dedication.
CHAPTER 1
1991
“But, Daddy,” Thea protested, “I know Fluffy died.”
“She did not die, Thea,” Dr. Ted Whitaker told his four-year-old daughter, pointing to the cat on the floor next to them. “She’s right here.”
Fluffy seemed to understand they were talking about her, because she purred and settled on the window seat beside Thea. Thea touched her tentatively, as if she expected the cat to disappear in front of their eyes. Then she scooped her up and buried her face in the cat’s neck.
“I told you, Thea, I do not want to hear you talking that way again.” He rubbed his forehead. Why did she have to keep telling these stories? How many times was he going to have to correct her until she stopped? He went down on one knee in front of his daughter and put his large hand on her own small, pink-clad knee. “Thea, look at me.”
She slowly turned from the shelter of the cat. Her wide, brown eyes studied him with a look he didn’t want to decipher but knew intimately. He’d seen that look so many times when he glanced in the mirror.
“I need you to stop telling these stories. Do you understand me?”
She stuck out her bottom lip and shook her head. “No.”
He almost smiled at her stubbornness, but this was serious. “Some day you’ll know what I mean. Trust me. Now, promise me.”
She hesitated for a long moment. “I promise.”
He smiled at her and gave her a hug. “This is for your own good.”
He ignored the bewilderment in her eyes. This was for her own good, and some day she would understand.
A few hours later, he watched the cat slip out of the house when Thea went outside to pick up her toys. He heard the screech of tires and rushed outside to see what had happened. A young woman got out of a white Chevy Citation parked in the middle of the road and walked around the front bumper to stare down at Fluffy. The cat lay unmoving. Dead.
The woman’s hand flew to her mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
Ted gazed at his daughter standing on the front step. She was staring at him with accusing eyes and tears running down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry.” He echoed the young woman.
CHAPTER 2
2019
Thea Whitaker studied Braxton while he stared at his fingernails, which he’d bitten down until they bled. He sat in a chair pulled up to a small table which was the perfect height for him. Braxton was her first patient of the day. As the only child psychologist at the hospital, her patient load kept her busy.
For some reason Braxton reminded Thea of herself when she was four years old, even though he was six years old, and a few inches taller and heavier than she was at that age. His dark hair color matched her shiny black hair. His jitters threw stimuli at her, and a responding tremor shivered in her brain. Not big enough to be a seizure but a definite jolt of dizziness.
Not now. She didn’t have time for visions right now. Or ever. If this feeling persisted, she’d have to get someone to stay with Braxton here in her office while she waited for the scenes in her head to go away.
The dullness invaded her head, and her vision blurred. Trying to stop the vision did no good. The scene came in the usual whirl. One minute she was staring at Braxton’s fingernails, the next she stood outside of her parents’ house, looking into a window, staring at her father.
The images came fast and indistinct. The blur of a white shirt, a curtain twitching, a cornflower blue, silk bedspread. And then her father fell. A crimson stain spread across his chest as she watched from a distance, unable to reach him, unable to stop the bleeding, and unable to keep her mother from screaming. The keening lament brought her out of her trance, and she stood still, waiting for her breathing to slow. She finally became aware of Braxton watching her.
He considered her from his chair by the little table, curiosity in his gaze.
“What’s wrong?” Braxton asked loudly, as shouting seemed to be the only way he would be heard at home.
Thea tried to smile at him. “Nothing. I need to take care of something. I’d like you to draw two pictures for me. One of when you’re happy, and one of what makes you sad.”
She placed a container with paper, pens, and crayons on the table. “Sherry will stay with you for a minute.”
His nose wrinkled. “Is she the one with the nose ring?” he asked, sidetracked from Thea’s strange behavior.
“Yes, she’s the one.” She hurried to the door and opened it into the hallway, needing a few minutes to collect her thoughts and decide what to do.
“I don’t like her,” Braxton said.
She ignored him, which she wouldn’t ordinarily do. Two short steps down the hall from her door, she stepped into the reception area. “Sherry, could you sit with Braxton for a minute? I’m not feeling well.”
Sherry, her nose ring glinting, gathered a few papers and stood up from her desk. “Sure.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Thea headed for the restroom without waiting for a reply, knowing Sherry would take care of him.
Thea locked the bathroom door and put down the lid of the toilet to sit down. Her father...why did it have to be her father she needed to save? Their conversations were awkward at best, and he had made her promise not to talk about her visions.
She couldn’t help feeling defensive whenever they talked. She was surprised he’d even allowed her to be hired at the hospital. As the psychiatrist who directed the Psychiatry Division, he had plenty of pull to prevent that from happening. Of course, that would have looked strange to the outside world if he had prevented her employment at the hospital where he had such power.
Thea pictured her father as she’d seen him in the vision. Falling, with the bullet hole in his chest. The red stain on his white shirt...she had to do something. Call her mother. Her mother’s screams echoed in her head. She didn’t have her cell phone with her, and she needed to take care of Braxton. Maybe she could catch her mom at her dermatology clinic. Her mother, Anna Whitaker was also a doctor. It ran in the family.
She glanced at her watch and jumped up. Ten minutes had gone by. She should get back to Braxton and his pictures before his mother came. When she stood up, her legs shook. She took some cleansing breaths and looked in the mirror. She didn’t appear all that different. Her dark eyes would only draw Sherry’s notice, and she could avoid her comments for a while.
Maybe she should talk to Clarissa and see what she thought of the vision. As a fellow psychologist on staff at the hospital, she might have some ideas. Thea also wanted to talk to Clarissa’s husband, Hugh. As a deacon in the church, Hugh’s perspective on how to approach her father about this vision would be helpful. If anyone could get her father’s attention, it would be someone from the church.
She returned to Braxton and looked at his pictures.
“Did you throw up?” he asked.
An embarrassed laugh escaped Thea’s lips. “No. Tell me about your pictures.”
Braxton pointed to a black blob with heavy arms and skinny fingers beside a blue blob with similar appendages. “This one makes me sad.”
“What is your picture about?” she asked.
He rolled his eyes at her. “Sherry knew.”
Of course, she did. Suddenly Braxton and Sherry were best friends. Sherry had that way about her, with adults and children.
Braxton pointed to the black blob. “That’s my dad.”
He pointed to the blue blob. “Dad likes to swim in the lake.”
She tried to concentrate on Braxton’s problems, while pushing her fear for her own father aside. “And why does that make you sad?”
“He doesn’t let me swim in the lake. He goes with his girlfriend.”
“Oh. That must be hard.”
Braxton nodded, his solemn eyes seeking hers. “It makes my mother mad. She yells at him.”
“I see. And what do you do?”
“I hide in my room.”
“I would too,” Thea told him. She re
“That’s Sherry and me having an ice-cream cone.”
Thea studied Braxton’s face, the guileless smile earning one in return. “I thought you didn’t like Sherry.”
He shrugged. “She’s not too bad. Her nose ring is pretty cool.”
Thea hoped Sherry hadn’t taken the ring out to show him. “That’s nice. I believe your mother will be here soon. Can I keep these pictures?”
He nodded. “I can make more at home.”
When he’d finally left with his mother, Thea stared at her case notes in the computer, not seeing any of the words. Instead, she saw her father fall to the floor in a pool of blood.
When someone knocked on her office door, she jumped. “Come in.”
Sherry poked her head into the room. “I’m going to lunch. Do you want anything before I go?”
Thea made up her mind on the spot. “Do you have a minute to come in?”
Sherry stepped into the office. “Sure.”
Thea tried not to wince at the low-cut top that Sherry wore. Every day her blouses appeared to get lower and her various rings more numerous. “What time is Luke’s party tonight?”
Sherry’s face lit up. “You’re going? That’s terrific. Are you feeling better?”
“I am.”
“Come any time after nine. That’s when most people arrive.”
Was she going to commit to going? Luke interested her, and she needed something to take her mind off her dilemma with her father. She’d have from now until nine to contact her mother and father and tell them about her vision. Until then she needed something to distract her. “Have you been to Luke’s house?”
“Sure. He’s given a few other parties. I’ve known Luke for years. He and Monroe, the new pediatrician, are friends too. A group of us get together every New Year’s Eve.”
Thea already regretted her impulsive decision to go. Parties and she didn’t suit. Neither did she and Monroe the few times she’d talked to him. On the other hand, there was Luke, whom she liked. They’d met when she first started working at the hospital back in February. She smiled in spite of the uneasy churning of her stomach. “Should be fun. I’ll be there.”
“One more thing,” Thea said before Sherry could leave. She’d almost forgotten to pass on their boss’s cheerful message. “It’s New Year’s Eve. Dr. Hanson said everybody can leave at three today and get their full eight hours paid.”
Sherry’s smile gleamed. “Great. I’ll tell them. See you later tonight.” She closed the door on her way out.
Perhaps Clarissa would be at Luke’s party, and Thea could talk with her. Clarissa said her husband Hugh enjoyed playing the midnight game, sounding mysterious when she said it and refusing to tell Thea what the game entailed. Thea knew a lure when she saw one.
Their host would be the perfect distraction. Luke had made it plain he wanted something with her. How much of a relationship, Thea didn’t know. He would keep her mind off her father’s situation.
She left messages on her parents’ home and cell phones and waited anxiously for them to call her back.
#
Thea didn’t hear from either of her parents before she arrived at Luke’s house for the party. If something bad had happened, they would have called her. Maybe she hadn’t made herself clear enough in her phone message that she expected a call back right away. Now she stood alone in the kitchen with Luke.
The familiar gleam in Luke’s eyes told Thea he wanted to kiss her. The clunk, clunk of Sherry’s wedge shoes sounding on the oak floor interrupted the moment.
“One minute until midnight. Five minutes until the game,” Sherry yelled into the kitchen before retreating.
“What game?” Thea asked, hoping for more details. She opened the fridge and took out a Pepsi. She twisted off the cap and took a sip before setting the bottle on the counter. She loved the warmth of Luke’s kitchen. The light oak floor matched oak cabinets and an oak table that could fit ten people. Moroccan red tile interspersed with tan tile above the sink and cupboards gave the room color.
“The game is one of Sherry’s hobbies.” Luke reached over and took Thea’s hand and pulled her closer. He nodded toward the drooping mistletoe above their heads. “How about a smooch to bring in the New Year?”
“How romantic. I think we need to get to know each other better first,” she said. In the past she’d avoided these parties, for just this reason. Luke’s feelings for her were obvious, and she hadn’t wanted to hurt him.
Luke’s sable hair curled at his neck above the red T-shirt that Sherry had decorated with a bow from some present. He was attractive, and Thea was tempted to give in to him. She heard the clunking of Sherry’s heels again and took a step back, but Luke continued to hold her hand.
Sherry peeked into the room grinning. “Hey, you two, it’s ten minutes past midnight. Enough. Let’s play the game.”
Some of Thea’s haziness cleared as they walked into Luke’s living room. Luke’s furniture always made her think of a fancy magazine layout for a successful surgeon’s waiting room. A large waiting room. She remembered the first time she’d seen the house and Luke’s words about needing space, lots of space.
Two black leather couches and four matching wingback chairs surrounded two oak coffee tables with scroll designs on the tops and legs. Luke had carved the tables and covered them with glass for protection. Black charcoal drawings of bridges covered the walls, along with pictures of Luke and his parents.
Ivies and ferns filled the spaces between furniture. Red poinsettias sat on matching end tables. The green and red of the plants were the only colorful things in the room. Thea found all the black a bit depressing. Maybe she could buy Luke a colorful picture of an orange sunset.
Her mind came back to Sherry’s words. She must mean the mysterious game Clarissa and Hugh played. “What game?”
Luke’s hold tightened on her hand. “We try to predict what will happen this upcoming year.”
Predictions. Her breath stopped, and her mind went numb. “I don’t think I’ll play.”
“Everybody who stays after midnight plays the game,” Sherry insisted, her plain gold eyebrow ring glinting in the light from one of the three wall-mounted lights. Her hair appeared more spiked than usual.
Thea pulled her hand from Luke’s and tucked her smooth black hair behind her ear. She cautioned herself against playing. Maybe if she went along with the game, she’d find out her gift was gone. She’d suppressed the sights and sounds for twenty years. They should be dead from lack of oxygen. Right, and she’d just had a vision today. One that she pushed to the back of her mind yet again, wondering why neither of her parents had called her back. “How come nobody talks about the game?”
“We don’t play the game or talk about predictions except on New Year’s Eve. Then we forget them for the rest of the year.” Luke said.
“I keep track,” Sherry said. “No one has ever been right, so they conveniently forget.”
Thea settled on one of the black leather couches with Luke.
“She reminds us,” he said.
Melissa and Keith sat on the other couch across from them, Keith’s ever-present six-pack of Diet Coke by his feet. They called themselves the old married couple of the group. Sixteen years, they proudly claimed whenever anyone asked, and even when no one asked. Keith worked road construction for the city, and Melissa worked at Kmart as a checkout clerk. They had twin teenage girls. Keith briefly went to college with Luke before dropping out of school.
Clarissa and Hugh sat in armchairs making up the circle around Sherry, who sat cross-legged on the floor in the space she had made by pushing one of the coffee tables off to the side. The only other person at the party was Monroe, a high school friend of Luke’s and another pediatrician at the hospital. Thea had only seen him a few times before tonight. He sat in one of the wingback chairs across from Clarissa.
His clear gaze made her nervous. She should be more nervous of Hugh, who she couldn’t begin to think of as a deacon in this unusual atmosphere. She wondered about the religious perspective of visions when they didn’t involve religious views. Didn’t Hugh find this game a little presumptuous, considering his profession?
