Free Anna To The Infinite Power by Mildred Ames Page B

you mean a few minutes ago when you said you’d learned something at Michaela’s, but not about music?”
    “I’m not sure you’d want me to say.”
    “Go ahead -- say.”
    “I meant I’d found out something interesting.”
    “Like what?”
    “Like you gave her a jar of our marmalade.”
    Sarah Hart said, “Graham, you never told me that.”
    “Why should I tell anyone I gave away a jar of marmalade?”
    Anna said, “The least you could have done was ask me.”
    He looked bewildered. “What have you got to say about it?”
    “Nothing that anyone would listen to, I suppose. But I should have plenty to say about it. After all, if it wasn’t for me, we wouldn’t have things like marmalade.”
    “I don’t believe this,” he muttered.
    Sarah Hart said, “What’s going on between you and that woman, giving her our food when food is so scarce?”
    Graham Hart, mouth hanging open, pushed back his chair and got up. He swallowed and in a very controlled voice said, “I have had just about enough. I am now going into my bedroom, which is soundproof, where,” his voice rose to a shriek, “I will scream my head off, take the Lord’s name in vain, and a few other things!” So saying, with great dignity, he left the table.
     

10
     
    By the time Anna was ready for bed, she had completely convinced herself that the disturbing experience of the afternoon had been nothing more than a flight of fancy. If she had had the good sense to take her medication, she would never have behaved so ridiculously. Just imagine, fearing her own bedroom!
    She glanced around it now. Nothing but the same old solid, sensible furniture she knew so well, a single bed that doubled as a couch, a big oak desk that had once belonged to Graham Hart, a no-nonsense chest of drawers, a straight chair, an easy chair covered in the same plaid as the bedspread and draperies, and a television screen hung high on the wall so that you could lie in bed and watch the mindless shows that lulled you to sleep. Everything about the room was functional, which suited Anna just fine. You see, she chided herself, nothing strange here, nothing scary.
    She got into her pajamas, then made herself glance out the window to assure herself there was nothing there but the safe familiar world. Although the fog was not as dense now, it seemed to shift around the park, obscuring streetlamps, yet, now and then, allowing the more distant lights to break through, one here, one there, sending out rays that blurred in the mist. Was that a light from Michaela’s apartment? Anna wondered. No, it must come from one of the other buildings. Now it’s gone. But there’s a new light. Michaela’s? Too far to the left. The lights appeared and vanished, appeared and vanished, like some kind of eerie fireworks glimpsed through a heavy veil.
    When Anna felt the first stab of pain in her head, she instantly turned away from the sight and quickly drew the draperies. She should never have let herself watch, yet it had not occurred to her that lights playing strange tricks in the fog could trigger one of her headaches. She put a cool hand on her forehead, then rubbed the back of her neck with her other hand, moving her head around in circles to relax the muscles. Not too bad, she decided. Not a real four-star headache. Fortunately, she hadn’t watched the lights long enough for one of those.
    She stretched out on top of her bedspread, eyes closed. Perhaps she should turn on television. Later. When the ache eased. Although she hadn’t intended to go to sleep, after a time, she dozed fitfully. In a dream, she could feel something hard and icy brash against her hand. The chill of it crept through her and finally awakened her, shivering. The room was cold now, and she was still lying outside the covers. She glanced down to discover that what she had felt in her sleep was the little box. With all that had happened earlier, she had quite forgotten it.
    She sat up, ran her fingers over its