produced/written by G. Matthew Smith



EPISODE #84 (Monday, 1/28/02) click here for a printable version of this episode
A Week Later
January, 1936 - Late Evening


THE DAVIS HOME - GRACE'S BEDROOM

23 Green St.Grace DavisGrace Davis laid in bed and tossed and turned, trapped in a fitful, troubled sleep.  In her unconscious state, she thrashed her head wildly as she continued to be locked inside her dreams.

"Grace, you still have feelings for me, don't you?" she could hear Dane say.

"Grace, I love you with all of my heart," came Trevor's voice.

She continued to fidget and squirm in her uncomfortable slumber.  The voices continued to come at her inside her head.  However, inside the dream a new voice appeared.

"Grace, I need you."

It was the voice of her mother.


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THE CALLISON HOME - LIVING ROOM

2210 Elmwood Lane"Reginald," Jillian Stokes awkwardly spoke up as she sat on the sofa, wrapped in his arms, "maybe...we should postpone the wedding until this mess is over."

"Nonsense!" Reginald Callison exclaimed.  "Annabelle Lake has caused enough problems for this family.  I will not let her ruin our wedding, too."

"But, Reginald..."

"No!"  He pulled her tighter and inhaled deeply.  "Our wedding will happen just the way we planned it.  We're not going to let anything stand in our way."

She rested her head comfortably on his shoulder and enjoyed the reassurance that his arms brought.  However, there were still questions inside her head.  There were things that had been eating at her that she needed to know the answers to.

Jillian Stokes"Darling," she muttered softly as she pulled away from him and looked at him with deep concern, "darling, why are you being so evasive when your father and Douglas ask you questions about the night Annabelle was killed?"

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," he grumbled with a nonchalant laugh.  "I've told both of them and the police everything I know."

"But...but..."  Jillian bit her lip nervously and furrowed her brow.  "When they ask you what happened, you don't say anything!"

"That's because there's nothing to say.  There's nothing to tell."  Reginald kept his eyes stoically straight ahead.  "Look, let's just drop this, honey.  I don't want to think about Annabelle Lake or her death anymore.  I want to think about us and our future."

"Reginald, we have to talk about this!"

Reginald Callison"We don't have to talk about anything!"  He stubbornly folded his arms across his chest and glared.  "Why are you so obsessed with this?  Why does what happened to Annabelle even matter?"

"But, darling, whenever they ask you what happened with Annabelle...when they ask you how you found her and how you wound up with the knife in your hand...you refuse to answer!"

"Leave it alone!"

"But...but..."  Her hand flew up to her mouth and she felt her eyes fill with tears.  "Darling, it's almost as if you want everyone to believe that you really did kill her!  You and I both know that's impossible.  There's...no way you could have been responsible for Annabelle's death!"

As Jillian eyed him with worry and confusion, Reginald merely looked straight ahead and sat in silence.


THE DAVIS HOME - GRACE'S BEDROOM

23 Green St.Still trapped inside the confines of her dream, Grace tossed and turned as the voices continued to echo inside her head.

"Grace!" came the voice of her mother.  "Oh, my baby, I need you!"

"M-momma?" Grace murmured, still asleep.  "Momma?"

"Grace, I need you!"

"Momma!"  Grace quickly sat up, dragged into consciousness.  Her breathing was heavy and labored and she felt the beads of perspiration on her forehead.  "Momma?" she questioned in confusion as she turned to look around the darkened, empty room.  Glancing down at her hands, she saw that they were shaking fiercely and she clinched them into fists in an attempt to hold them still.

Feeling awkward and slightly off kilter, she climbed from her bed and stumbled over to the window and peered out.  It was still snowing like crazy, just like it had been for hours.  She'd heard that they'd forecast a major snow storm and, apparently, they hadn't been wrong.  Supposedly, there could even be at least a foot of accumulation.

Walking back to her bed, she sat down and turned on the small lamp that sat on the nightstand by the bed.  It cast an odd glow across the room.  Grace sat very still as she listened to the silence that was only interrupted by the faint sound of conversation that drifted in from Douglas and Lorraine's bedroom down the hall.

"Grace, I need you!"

"W-what?"  She looked up with a start and glanced around the room.  She'd been certain that she'd heard her mother's voice.  As her heart began to beat faster, she realized that that was a foolish idea.  How could she possibly have heard her mother?  Certainly it was all in her head.  As she sat very still, she listened closely in an attempt to hear the sound again.  When the frigid winter wind whipped around the corner of the house and passed her window, Grace heard the faint howl.  With a heavy sigh, she nodded in relief.  The wind.  That's all it had been.

"Grace."

However, the feelings of worry and anxiety that it had caused refused to leave her.  Taking a deep breath, she reached for the locket she always wore around her neck and carefully opened it so that she could look inside at the picture of her and her mother.

"Oh, Momma," Grace muttered, becoming even more anxious than before.  "It...it was only the wind."

Grace DavisTrue, it had only been the wind, but it had sparked a gnawing feeling inside of her that something was terribly wrong.  Although she turned off the light and snuggled herself back under her covers, she couldn't push the feelings of worry out of her head.  She knew she was probably being silly, but she couldn't escape the uncomfortable feeling that her mother needed her.

Taking a deep breath, she again slid out of bed and rushed to her closet.  With a sense of urgency that she couldn't explain, she pulled on a long woolen skirt and thick sweater and grabbed her heaviest winter coat and gloves.  Her mother needed her.  She couldn't accurately explain how she knew, but she knew.

Bundled up and ready to face the icy winter night, she hesitated as she reached for the door of her room and listened carefully.  Douglas and Lorraine's voices were very clear, though faint, and she knew that they were still awake.  Pulling open the door just a tad, she poked her head out into the hallway and saw the soft glow of light creeping underneath the door of their room down the hall.

Grace let out a sigh when she realized that Douglas would never let her out in such horrible weather.  Of course....

She furrowed her brow as she carefully stepped out into the hallway and quietly shut the door behind her.  Tiptoeing to the top of the stairs, she made every attempt not make the slightest sound.  She just knew they wouldn't understand.  There was no way she would be able to explain to them why she just had to see their mother and why it couldn't wait.  Heck, she couldn't even explain it to herself.  It was only a feeling---a horrible feeling.

Grace moved carefully down the stairs in the dark and walked quickly through the living room and into the kitchen where she grabbed the keys to Douglas' car that hung on a peg by the backdoor.  As she reached for the door that led out to the garage, she took a deep breath and prepared to meet the cold winter night.