In the book they came in packets. Perhaps they were cigarettes or a candy of some kind. Maybe a cough drop. She imagined the sharp smell of tobacco and the clean, astringent scent of camphor. When she was at summer camp years ago, she had been terribly homesick. For some reason she couldn’t remember, the camp nurse had given her cotton balls soaked in camphor. Remembering the smell made her feel small and sad. Camphor and gray wool army blankets. She’d hated the rough blanket, so unlike the soft blue one on her bed at home. One night she’d kicked off the sheet and become entangled in the coarse gray wool. Somehow she hadn’t been able to free herself from the gray wool cocoon and she’d screamed and screamed until the counselor had finally come. The counselor was huge and fat and unfriendly and made her feel small and helpless. The counselor had laughed at her and Lucy had perversely held on to the wool blanket. In her dream she had wanted to be free of it; now she held on to it for protection. Now she smelled the sooty, chemical smell of an automobile’s exhaust. It was a comforting, familiar smell and she wanted to yield to it, to the great throbbing sensation of the automobile motor, but she knew she mustn’t. She must fight to stay awake. She felt warm fur on her face as if the cat had curled up to sleep there. The cat began purring softly and then louder and louder until it sounded like one of Bill’s power saws. Lucy’s heart began beating faster and faster; it was pounding within her chest and she couldn’t breathe. Her lungs were bursting and she finally fought her way free of the suffocating covers. Gasping and gulping for air, she realized she was sitting up in bed. Her nightgown was soaked with sweat and she was shaking with fright. She put her hand to her forehead to push her hair back and realized that her hair was soaking wet. It must have been a nightmare; there was nothing to be afraid of. Bill was lying there beside her, sound asleep. She took a deep breath and tried consciously to relax her arms and legs the way she had learned in Lamaze class. She really ought to get up and go to the bathroom if she wanted to be comfortable, but she was afraid to leave the safety of Bill’s side. The thought of walking alone through the dark, silent house terrified her. Instead she turned on her side and curled against him, spoon fashion, to try to go back to sleep.

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER SEVEN

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“Mommy, isn’t that wreath big?”