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Kate’s Sunday morning specialty was scrambled tofu with herbs. “How can you be on a first name basis with alcohol and nicotine, yet be so concerned about the food you eat?”
    When Kate only smiled, Annie grew suspicious. If Kate didn’t take the bait on their old argument about lifestyles, she must want something.
    Kate carried her plate to the table. “Do you work today?”
    “No. I traded shifts and worked last night. Remember?” Annie set a cup of water in the microwave to heat for tea and dropped a sliced bagel into the toaster. She was glad Kate couldn’t see her face; it was impossible to keep from smiling when she thought of Tom. Last night’s experience wasn’t something she wanted to share with her sister. It was like a dream that made you feel wonderful but sounded silly when told to someone.
    “You acted kinda weird last night. Something happen?”
    “Not really.”
    “You’re still a little strange this morning. Are you sure you’re okay?”
    Annie turned to Kate. At the look of concern on her sister’s face, she relented—halfway. “I had a nightmare. I was with a man. We loved each other. He held my hand in his, and we were running through the woods. Something was chasing us. I was scared. Terrified. The man who ran with me—my husband, I guess—pushed me ahead telling me to run faster. And I did until I realized he hadn’t followed me. I looked back. He’d stopped to face whatever chased us, and I—Oh God, how could I leave him? My heart shook me with every beat. I’ve never felt so scared. I knew he was going to be killed, but I didn’t want him to leave me, so I rushed toward him, ready to die beside him.”
    For a few seconds, Annie closed her eyes and pressed her trembling fingers against her mouth. “I saw a gun pointed at him. I froze. I screamed. I screamed so loud I never even heard the shot, only the echo. He spun back toward me, and the look on his face— Oh, God . Maybe it was the force of the shot that turned him around . . . or maybe he tried to come to me. I don’t know. He fell . . . right at my feet . . . and I dropped to my knees beside him. He tried to say something to me, but the blood was . . . it was horrible. His eyes . . . I looked right into his eyes, and then he just . . . he was gone. I loved him, but he died, and all I could do was scream and scream and scream.”
    Annie blinked and pulled herself back to the present.
    Kate stared at her, lips parted, barely breathing. She swallowed hard. “But . . . that was only a dream. It wasn’t real.”
    “No. No, of course not . . . it was just a dream.”
    Annie’s recitation had invited something dark into the kitchen. Silence covered them like the blanket they’d pulled over their heads when they were little girls, afraid to see what might lurk in the dark. Kate stared at her plate, her hand lying immobile beside it. Annie stared at the floor. It was nearly a minute before the tink of metal against china signified Kate had resumed eating.
    Annie turned back to preparing her breakfast. She opened the microwave and tested the water to see if it was still hot before removing her cup and plunging the tea bag into it.
    “It’s supposed to be a beautiful day,” Kate said between bites. “Why don’t we go out to the lake?”
    This question confirmed Annie’s earlier suspicion. The scenario was a familiar one. Kate had met two guys last night. One of them—the Texan, no doubt—had invited her to the lake, but his friend needed a date, so Kate needed a friend. A sister would do.
    “Are you asking to use my car again,” Annie asked, “or do you have a fifth wheel you’re trying to pair me with?”
    Kate sighed. “I worry about you, Annie. It’s unnatural to be alone all the time like you are.”
    Gingerly, Annie fished the hot bagel halves from the toaster and spread them with cream cheese. “I really do appreciate your concern,” she said, carrying her plate and cup to join Kate at the