Chapter Eight Dressed in only a silk nightgown, Margaret lay on her bed with the top sheet covering her slightly. She moved slowly in her sleep and smiled. She was dreaming. It wasn't the dreams that she usually sketched. It was a dream about the romantic evenings she spent with Bobby. He'd been the only one who gave her the time of day, the only one who helped her when her father died a year earlier. He swept her off her feet and she'd fallen madly in . . . . Love? Was it love or was it infatuation? She wasn't sure. She never felt the love of anyone other than her family -- and now they were gone. Whatever it was, it made her feel warm and tingly inside. It made her float on the air and feel good about herself. It made her -- happy. In her dream, Bobby just finished kissing her and was holding her close. He then pulled out a small black velvet box and opened it. It was beautiful -- one single cut diamond engagement ring. "Will you marry me?" "Oh, Bobby, it's beautiful." He placed the ring on her hand and admired it as it caught the light and became a prism. Something fell to the floor and she looked up at Bobby only to see blood gushing from an open neck wound. His head wasn't there. She became violently ill only to come up for air with a scream as he asked, "Until death do us part?" She looked down at her feet at the thing that had fallen -- it was his head. "Margaret?" She heard a far away voice calling her. Yet, the dream stayed. "Margaret?" A low haunting voice called out. She looked down to see Bobby's lips moving methodically calling out her name once more. "Margaret, I love you." The face that was once handsome and caring now held an anger that she had never seen before. It seemed evil as it looked up at her from the angle at which it was resting. It grinned wickedly. "Marry me." Margaret turned to run but his body held her steadfast. She struggled as the body leaned down to pick up its head. "Give us a kiss." The sentence that used to evoke a giggle, now evoked horror in her. "Give both of us a kiss." He reached into the bucket that was holding their champagne. She watched helplessly as he pulled a head out of the ice. The face was turning blue from being in the ice but she could easily tell who's it was. Sam's. "No!" Suddenly, she sat up in bed awake. Her eyes were still glazed over from the nightmare, and the feeling of awakening hadn't set in. "Margaret, it's me, Al." Her eyes were still glazed with fear as she looked at him. Slowly, she began to relax and began to blink her eyes. "That must have been one hell of a nightmare." Al remarked as Margaret rubbed her eyes and laid back against the headboard. "Yeah." One of the straps of her nightgown slid down her shoulder and she quickly placed it back. The image of Sam's head being held up made a chill run down her back. Was he going to die or was it just a nightmare as Al had said? "Yeah, a nightmare." She repeated hoping that it was. "Why aren't you at school?" Al asked as he eyed her carefully. She sighed heavily as she focused her attention to her hands in her lap. "Didn't Sam tell you?" One bushy eyebrow cocked warily. "Tell me what?" He wanted to be on her level and he used the handlink to sit him on the bed. "Well, he told me everything last night -- about me . . . ." Her sentence weaned off. "Anyway, I got really upset and he tried to calm me down. The only thing that calms me is a small amount of whiskey. I tried to drink way too much. I tried drinking three full tumblers but he poured . . . poured them down the sink." "Margaret." Al frowned knowing how she must feel, yet she didn't look up. "Margaret, look at me." Slowly, her head rose and she looked up at him. "I know your upset, but you don't need to drown your problems in whiskey, I should know. I'm a reformed alcoholic. Sam helped me to do that, you know." "He did?" Margaret sat amazed at Sam's ability to help others. "How?" "Well," Al settled back into his memory searching for the incident that brought Sam Beckett into his life. "I was working at a project called Star Bright. I came in to work still drunk from the night before and I was trying to get a cup of coffee to help me sober up. But the coffee machine ate my dime and I started beating the thing with a hammer." Al grinned. He remembered wondering why this kid kept bothering him and harassing him. He later found out that Sam thought that there was a decent human being underneath that hard shell. "That's when Sam helped me out. He helped me out when no one else cared." Margaret glanced away from him and frowned as she pulled her knees to her chest. Helped him when no one else cared. She looked back at Al. "Am I going to die, Al? Am I still going to kill myself?" "No, you don't kill yourself." "What?" She asked surprised. "Ziggy found data on the sketch. There's a good probability that someone murdered you." "I didn't kill myself?" She asked in awe as Al shook his head negatively. "I didn't kill myself." She repeated it but now it was more a statement of fact. A slow smile formed and she looked at him in a new light. "You've just lifted a weight off my shoulders. I stayed up until almost four o'clock last night trying to figure out why I would kill myself. I'm not stupid, you know." Al grinned and nodded his head. He pulled out the handlink to see if things had changed now that she knew. "Sorry Admiral, Margaret Dawson still gets murdered Friday April 5, 1996." He heard Ziggy respond to him instead of computing it through the handlink. "Al could you help me?" "Help you what? I'm just a hologram, I can't touch . . ." although I'd like to, he left out as he bit his tongue. He could make comments like that in front of Sam, but in front of a woman, he was always a gentleman. "Oh, I know, I know. There's been something that I've really wanted to do but I've never had the guts to do it. You think you could help me out with it?" She questioned vaguely. "I don't know. Depends on what it is." Al responded as he placed the handlink into his pocket again. "Well . . . " Sam spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing in class jotting down notes for Jason for his finals. Even though he seemed involved in the classes, his mind continually thought about Margaret. He just couldn't comprehend why anyone would want to hurt such a sweet, innocent young woman like Margaret. She hadn't done anything vicious to anyone. In fact, she had taken a lot of harassment after what happened to her family and being labeled by the teens at school. He couldn't understand it. By the time fifth period rolled around, his brain was beginning to hurt just thinking about it. Mrs. Stacey decided to work on different parts since 'Stephanie' wasn't here. So, Sam sat alone with his thoughts yet again. Slowly, his mind began filling with memories of Margaret over the past four years. She'd been a definite interest, a potential girlfriend, but I, no Jason, hadn't the guts to ask her on a date in the eighth grade. He had begun to have a friendly relationship near the end of eighth grade, but that's where it stopped. The bell rang to dismiss class and go to the last class of the day. As he made his way to class, his thoughts were steadfast on Margaret. In the middle of freshman year, he met Jessica, one of the cheerleaders from a neighboring school who moved to Swaldon. He liked her but not as much as Margaret. He wanted to have a girlfriend, so he stayed with Jess. Memories flowed of their romantic outings but their relationship didn't get sexual until this year. School pressure had a lot to do with whom you dated and how you rated at the school. It was stupid, but that was how it was. Four months ago, my, no, Jason's twin brother died, and he went to a group therapy session on how to cope with the loss of loved ones. She had been there because her boyfriend died. It was hard being there because of Ryan but seeing her cry made it even harder. At one meeting, they both cried and he held her and they comforted each other. In that brief moment, something began to grow in me, no, Jason, a feeling that he often wrote about at home in his journal. The memories suddenly stopped and Sam blinked incoherently. What was happening? Why am I remembering Jason's past? I'm not supposed to be able to do this. He stood on the risers thinking -- trying to remember what was going on in his brain. He remembered this happening before. What had Al called it? Mind something. He dug deep but all he could come up with was holes. He tried again. Mind . . . mind merging. Yeah, that's what it was. That's why he sometimes believed he was that person; he had some of their memories and their feelings. The last bell of the day rang releasing the students and he went to his locker. He wanted to talk to somebody about these feelings, but whom? Definitely not Jessica. He shuddered at the thought. Who? Who could be somewhat unbiased toward her? He thought a moment. When he was younger he would talk to Tom about things that bothered him. Who could Jason go to? He placed his books in his locker and shut it. He then went to his car and drove straight home. As he pulled into the driveway, he knew whom he could talk to. He opened the door to see Sarah Hughes with her feet propped on the coffee table watching the Oprah Winfrey show again. "Hi, mom." She glanced from the screen only to grin at him. "How was your day?" He groaned a reply and shut the door. Sarah frowned. She had known ever since first grade that Jason loved school and that Ryan hated it. She would have expected that response from Ryan, but from Jason? She grabbed the remote control from the arm of the couch and turned off the television then turned to him. "Why don't you tell me about it?" Sam grinned to himself. He knew that groan would get a response form Sarah. "Well, I heard some remarks about Margaret today that were really mean." He moved to the couch and sat, placing his back pack on the floor by his feet. "Rumors?" "In a way." Sam glanced down at his hands. "What was said and who said it?" She asked as she propped her head on her hand as it rested on the back of the couch. "The guys I sit with at lunch, you know, Billy, Brad and the others?" She nodded her head. "Well, they think that if I ask Margaret on a date -- like, prom, for example -- that I'll ruin my reputation." "Go on." She prompted understanding the dilemma from her high school days. "They said that if I asked her out that I should go ahead and start digging my own grave because she'll kill me too." Sam met Sarah's gaze. Even as he had said it, he knew that it sounded stupid. He should have handled it by himself or asked Al about it when he showed up. He bowed his head then shook it disturbed. Sarah shook her head and closed her eyes disapprovingly. She slowly opened her eyes again and eyed him cautiously. "How do you feel about Margaret?" "I . . . I like her a lot." He answered but when she cocked an eyebrow at him, he changed his mind. "Okay, all right, I love her." Sarah laughed merrily. "Oh, honey, I think that you already know what to do. Do what you think is best." She placed a hand on his arm. "You've always been a bright young man. You've always looked before you leaped." Sam smiled. "Have I?" He asked more to himself than to her but she answered anyway. "Yes, you have. You've always done the right thing and you've helped others in their lives." Sam wondered exactly whom she was talking to -- Samuel Beckett or Jason. "Anyway, explain again what happened last night." Sam gave his version of the incident. "I'm really worried about her." Sarah sat back on the couch and stared at the blank screen of the television set. She began to tap her leg as she thought what he had said. Slowly, she looked back at him warily. "Would you say you're a responsible young man?" "Mom." Sam moaned wondering why he had responded the way he had. He hated it when he blinked off and the person he had leapt into blinked on. This mind merging was the pits; but then again, it did get him out of some rough spots. "Well, are you?" "You know I am. I maintain a 3.5 average, and I do my fair share of housework around here, without being asked or told to. I even try to get along with Kathy, which is hard to do." "True." She responded nodding her head. "And you are reliable and trustworthy." "What are you getting at mom?" Sam eyed her carefully trying to figure out exactly what was going on in her mind. "Let me discuss something with your father then I'll tell you." She smiled at his confused state and ruffled his hair. "Don't worry about it okay." "Okay." Sam stood still confused and went to his room to read Jason's journal. After thinking about Margaret all afternoon, he felt he had to know more so that he could act as Jason would. He searched the dressers and came up empty-handed. He turned slowly to the computer on the desk. He strutted over to it and turned it on. "Too bad you're not like Ziggy." He remarked at he sat down. He searched through the desk as the computer booted up. He found the familiar disks and looked through them. The last five disks were labeled "Personal Journal" with the dates marked accordingly. Picking up the last one, he inserted the disk into the computer. A sub-screen came up with dates scattered across it. He highlighted a date -- July 25, 1995. After a moment, the document came up on the screen. It read: "Life is precious, and we take advantage of it. Too many people live life just for today instead of tomorrow. In the news, a man, a father, a damn-good police officer was killed today leaving behind a scared young lady -- Margaret. Society has taken yet another human life for its sake. I wish I could do something to ease her pain, to comfort her and ease her in this time of distress. However, I don't want to push her. I merely want her to know that I'm here for her." Sam sat back impressed. He wasn't expecting anything like this. He cocked an eyebrow and switched to another date. December 23, 1995: "Ryan has been acting depressed lately. Usually at Christmas time he is happy go lucky. Yet, now he just mopes around the house. I tried to get him to go to the mall with me today, but he said he didn't want to go. He had to meet his friends at Reed's house. Maybe I'm wrong, but Ryan has been acting odd. He never was really involved in school activities like I am and he really isn't a part of any group -- so to speak. I have noticed that he is hanging around a group of thugs. Reed Morgan is a drug addict and I just don't know what to say to Ryan. I don't want to bum him out and tell him that his friends are bad guys; but then again, I don't want Ryan to get involved with drugs either. Maybe I should talk to him about it. Sam was curious. Since he had leapt into Jason Hughes's life, no one had mentioned to him how his brother died or anything. Neither Al nor Margaret had discussed it with him. It was as if Ryan had just vanished from the face of the earth. Curious, he continued to search through the disks to find more information about Jason's brother. He pulled up the information for November 24, 1995. It read: It's almost Turkey Day!! I can't wait until tomorrow to see what baked goodies Mom is going to make. I ........... wait, the doorbell........................... The police were at the door. Ryan's dead. Dead? Damn him! Why did he have to hang out with those assholes! He wouldn't listen to me when I tried to talk to him yesterday. He just wouldn't and now look at what happened. The officer said that the group of teenagers that were with him, got him drunk. They were playing quarters or some shit like that, and then asked him if he wanted to take any of these pills to enhance the buzz. They gave him Black Beauties, Fars, and Dars. According to the paramedics, Ryan didn't have a chance. He had relaxed so much from the drugs and alcohol that his heart just stopped. WHY DIDN'T HE LISTEN TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHY??!!!!!!! Misty eyed, Sam glanced through the entries again. There weren't any entries from November 25, 1995 through January 8, 1996. Sam reasoned that the period from November through January was Jason's denial of Ryan's death and his mourning period. He could understand now why the subject hadn't been brought up. He looked at the next entry. January 9, 1996. It's been an interesting evening. After school today, I went to her house. I had to see her. At the present, she's the only one who understands how I feel. Since Ryan died, I haven't been the same. It's as if I lost a part of "me". She told me that as long as I tell her exactly how I feel, and be totally and completely honest with her that she would help me. Unfortunately, I haven't been completely honest. Yes, I tell her my feelings about Ryan dying but I haven't told her how I feel for her. I'm falling for her. We were sitting in her porch swing on a cool night. We talked, but I don't remember about what. What I recall was how the light sparkled in her eyes, and how her smile. She had such a beautiful smile. When the wind picked up, she laid her head on my shoulder and we cuddled. Every time we got close, I feel want to kiss her, but I haven't. I don't want her to lose trust in me. The other reason I haven't is Jessica. I do care for her but something is missing. I just don't know what do to. Honest: I do remember what we talked about -- Ryan's death; how he died and how much I want him back. I choked back tears at her house. I don't want her to see me blubber on like a kid. She must have noticed because she grabbed a hold of my hand and squeezed it. What are my feelings for Margaret? Honest: I love her. I love her more every time I see her. She's kind, trustworthy, and has a wonderful personality. So, what's my problem? Jessica. What do I do about Jessica? Now, he understood. He understood how Jason felt about Margaret and how Ryan's death had tied them together. What was difficult to see was why was he still with Jessica? He scanned through the next entries and read through entry date March 11, 1996. "While science may help explain how a virus multiplies, it leaves unanswered why a woman can be an infuriating person. Jessica can be an unattractive, unattentative, slobbering bore. She's an inflated, overbearing, self-centered broad who annoys the hell out of me! So, why am I still with her? I should have chosen Margaret when my gut told me to. Is it too late?" Sam chuckled as he glanced at the last date entered into the disk. It seemed that Jason had been writing everyday since January the ninth. He took a look at the last entry dated March 24, 1996. "I find myself studying Margaret's features and I wonder what it would be like to caress her, to respond to her touch. There is a poem we read in literature by Sydney King Russell. This is my version of his poem. I loved you for a little, Who could not love me long, You gave me wings of gladness And lent my spirit song. I loved you for an hour But only with my eyes; Your lips I could not capture By storm or by surprise. Your mouth I remember with rush of sudden pain, As one remembers starlight Or roses after rain. Out of a world of laughter Suddenly, I am sad . . . . Day and night haunts me, The kiss I never had." Sam read several other longer entries about Margaret and Jessica and sat back to mull between the two of them. He suddenly wondered what would happen if he typed something in Jason's journal. In a weird way, it would be a part of Jason. He quickly produced a new document and dated it March 25, 1996 -- one for yesterday. He thought for a long moment then his long fingers quickly typed in the following message. "Unless each day can be looked back upon by an individual as one is which he has had some fun, some joy, some real satisfaction, that day is a loss. I'm not sure if this day was a loss or not. Margaret was embarrassed and unsettled at the dare but I'm positive that our connection will be worth the fury." Once saved, he placed one more entry for today. He closed his eyes and thought of one person that meant everything to him -- his father. Then he began to type. "A child on a farm sees a plane fly overhead and dreams of a faraway place. A traveler on the plane sees the farmhouse . . . and dreams of home. You can dream, just don't let your dreams lead you away from the ones you love and care about. Don't lose touch with family. They are the only ones who love you without reason." "Come and get it!" Sarah called out from the kitchen. Sam saved the last entry. He flicked off the monitor then made his way to the dining room. After a blessing was said, the family began eating. The normal dinner conversation commenced and he was surprised when David cleared his throat and turned to him. "Jason, your mother and I have talked thoroughly about what has happened with Margaret. We understand that you are concerned about her and we trust you enough to . . . well, too . . ." "Honey, what your father is trying to say is that if Margaret needs to be supervised for the next couple of days then you may stay with her to watch over her. We think you are a responsible, caring young adult." "Hold up -- adult?" Kathy questioned in awe. "He's only eighteen and you're giving him permission to go over and stay at a girl's house?" "Katherine." Sarah warned without looking at her. "Mom, dad, are you sure you know what you're saying? You're letting loose a hormone on society." Sam glared at her but didn't say anything. He didn't want to blow this privilege. This permission from Jason's parents was going to let him watch her closely so that she couldn't do anything again. It was perfect. "Kathy!" Sarah looked at Kathy sternly. "Well, he is! All testosterone! Look at the posters in his room." Kathy argued trying to blow the whole deal. She couldn't believe it. How could her parents let him do this? It was unbelievable. "Zip it." David simply said. "But . . . " A glare from David made Kathy close her mouth and begin to eat once more. He looked back to Sam and his gaze softened. "That girl has always been sweet. Ever since her father passed away, all the officers at the station have sort of adopted her. She knows that if she needs anything to just call. She came by the station just the other day to say hi. I'd hate to see anything happen to her." "Me too, dad. Me too." Sam replied with a sigh.