Free Glimpse by Stacey Wallace Benefiel Page A

home Zel, or we’re liable to get ourselves arrested for public indecency.”
    I got up, stumbling a little, and picked my nightshirt up off the ground, “I can’t believe I’m going to say this,” I said as I shook the dust from my shirt and put it on, “but it was just about to get a lot more indecent out here.” 
    Avery stood, putting his shirt on and pulling it down in front.  “Yeah, we gotta go home right now.”
     

    The next morning I lay in bed, getting my nerve up.  I heard Mom shuffle down the hallway and go into the kitchen.  Melody and Dad were still asleep.  Now was my chance.  I quietly got up and checked myself out in the mirror.  I didn’t see any signs of hickies or puffy lips. Crud! My nightshirt was on inside out.  That would not have been good.  I turned it right side out.  Okay.  I was ready.
    Mom was making coffee.  I went to the fridge and got out the orange juice.  “Morning,” I said.
    She yawned, covering her mouth with her hand.  “Morning, Zel.  How’d you sleep?”
    I poured a small glass of juice. “Pretty good. Although, y’know, I keep having this crazy dream about how Avery Adams is going to die.” Might as well get down to it. “Um, it takes place in the future…and I’m also pregnant in it.” I gulped down the juice and poured another glass.
    Mom put her hands out, bracing herself against the countertop.  She exhaled and then took a deep breath in.
    I concentrated on the Last Supper magnet holding the church newsletter to the fridge. “Don’t worry though,” I assured her, “I think we’re married. So, um, the baby…” I put the orange juice back in the fridge and turned to look at her. “Please say something.”
    Instead of saying anything, she went down the hall to her bedroom and came back into the kitchen holding some folded up pieces of green paper.  She handed them to me. “Everything I know about this is in that letter.  Quick, read it before your dad and Melody wake up.”
    I sat down at the kitchen table. Mom hovered over my shoulder, reading the letter with me. 
     
    Dear Gracie,
    I want to start by telling you that I’m sorry honey and I hope you can someday forgive me for what I have done.
    There are many things that you do not know about me. Things that have led me to make the decision to take my own life.
    Everything I’m about to tell you is true.  All that I ask is that you read this letter and keep it in the back of your mind.
    Growing up, I always knew that I was different.  I could sense things. Sometimes silly things, like knowing what all of my Christmas presents were even though they were wrapped. Sometimes horrible things like knowing the exact night that our neighbors, the Bucks, house would burn to the ground.
    I kept my feelings to myself. Many times I thought that maybe I was crazy.
    After the Bucks’ house burned (I was thirteen at the time) and the whole family perished in the fire, the guilt that I could have warned them overtook me.
    I vowed from that point on to trust my feelings and do whatever I could to stop any other tragedies from occurring.
    One afternoon I sat on the banks of the lake for several hours. I had an overwhelming feeling that a small child was going to drown.  Sure enough, around four o’clock as my eyes scanned the lake, I saw Alexander Bitman go under the water and not come back up.  I alerted the lifeguard on duty, who rescued Alexander.  I never doubted my abilities again.
    This next part of my story you have heard bits and pieces of over the years, but this is the whole truth.
    In July, the summer after I graduated from Rosedell High, I went to a party at my friend Edna’s house.  Edna’s boyfriend Ron brought your dad to the party.  He was a new face in town, a young lawyer from Portland that Ron had convinced to move to Rosedell and open up a law practice with him.
    I was immediately drawn to your father. He was such a smart handsome man. That night after spending just a