A Stir of Echoes Read Online Free PDF Page A

"That is, this morning. It must have been about two."
      "I didn't hear you get up," she said.
      "You were asleep," I told her. Even as I spoke, a rush of crude hope filled me that it really had been a dream.
      "This was-after you told me you couldn't sleep?" she asked. I could tell she didn't believe me; rather, didn't believe that I'd seen what I said I'd seen.
      I said yes. I looked at both of them and shrugged with a helpless, palms-up gesture. "That's it," I said. "I saw a ghost. I saw it."
      "What did it look like?" Phil asked. He didn't even try to conceal his fascination. This was meat for him.
      I drew in a ragged breath, then shrugged again as if I felt slightly ashamed of what I was saying. As a matter of fact I think I was; a little.
      "It was a woman," I said. "She was-in her thirties, I'd say. Had dark hair and-was about, oh, five-foot-six. She was wearing an odd dress-black with a strange design on it. And there was a string of pearls around her neck."
      There was a moment's suspension, then Anne said, "You saw this?"
      "I saw it," I said. "I was in the living room, sitting on the green chair. I looked up and-she was standing there." I swallowed. "Looking at me."
      "Honey…" I couldn't tell what I heard more of in her voice-sympathy or revulsion.
      "You really saw it then," said Phil, "I mean with your eyes?"
      "Phil, I told you," I said, "I saw it. It wasn't a dream. Let's toss that out right now. It happened. I got up, I went into the bathroom. I heard you sleeping. I checked Richard to see if he was all right, I looked out the back window at the yard. I sat down on the green chair-and I saw her. Like that. I was awake. It wasn't any dream."
      I noticed how Anne was looking at me. It was a complex look, compounded of many things-curiosity, withdrawal, concern, love, fear; all of them in the one look.
      "Before this happened," Phil said, "what was your mental state? I mean, why couldn't you sleep?"
      I looked at him curiously. "Why?" I asked.
      "Because I think you were in a state of mental turmoil. Before you-let's say-saw what you did."
      "Phil, I did see it," I said, a little impatiently now. "Come on. I just won't go along with this dream idea. Don't, for God's sake, humour me. I'm not a mental case."
      "Of course you're not," Phil said quickly. "I didn't mean that for a second. What you saw was as real to you as I am, sitting here across from you."
      I didn't know exactly what he was driving at but I said, "Okay, then. That's settled."
     
      "You were in an aroused mental state, though," Phil said. It wasn't a question this time.
      I looked at him a moment, warily. I didn't want to be led to any pat conclusion about this. But of course I had to say yes to his statement.
      "All right," he said, "and I imagine you even have a headache now. Do you?"
      "A little one." I felt myself start. "How do you know all this?" I asked.
      "Because it follows a pattern, brother man," he said. "You had a hallucination as a result of-"
      "Phil…" I started.
      "Listen to me."
      "Phil, it wasn't a hallucination! You were right before, not now. What I saw was as real to me as you are, sitting there."
      "Of course it was. Do you think that makes it actual?"
      That stopped me cold. It's the sort of question that can topple anything; make even the most objective reality spin away into tenuous nothingness. I sat there staring at him blankly, feeling that light pulse of pain in my head.
      "What do you mean?" I finally asked.
      "Simply this," he said, "people have had hallucinations before-in broad daylight, much less dead of night. They've shaken hands with their hallucinations, talked with them."
      "What you're trying to say," I said, unable to keep from smiling a little, "is that your old brother-in-law is ready for the hatch."
      "Oh, hell, no," Phil said. "That woman exists. I don't know where-or when. But she's real. I mean she