"He doesn't really talk to me about it anymore. After the doctor reassured us that his palpitations were nothing serious, he just started ignoring them. But I do wonder about the toll of this recent lawsuit he's involved in. Hopefully Steve can give me some insight from a lawyer's perspective."
Michelle glanced over at her mom. "I'm sure he'd be happy to. Good thing you weren’t here last week. He got some nasty flu bug and was pretty sick for a few days. But he’s fine now. Just busy as usual. He been putting in really long days on a case he’s working on right now.”
"Well, maybe he'll be able to come home early tonight, honey. I'm eager to see him again," her mother countered cheerfully.
“Here’s hoping,” she replied.
Soon they were pulling into the driveway of the quaint, country style home on Wayburn Way. Michelle noticed her mother's pleased expression as her eyes surveyed their home.
The rainy climate provided a lush yard with beautiful, tall pine trees, a thick carpet of grass, and an English garden of wildflowers. Bordered by a white picket fence, the property had a storybook appearance.
Michelle parked the car in the garage and helped her mother gather her bags. As they walked into the house with their arms full, Max excitedly bolted toward the door to greet them. Sheila almost lost her footing under the anxious romping of the playful kitten.
"Who is this lively fellow?" she asked.
"Oh, I forgot! You two haven't met," Michelle replied, helping her mother put her luggage down. "Mother, this is Max. Max, this is Grandma Sheila," she said with a smile.
"I don't know about this 'Grandma Sheila' bit, but I'm very happy to meet you, Max," Michelle's mother replied, seeming to enjoy the parody on social amenities.
Seemingly satisfied that his duty was done, Max trotted off to the kitchen, and Michelle showed her mother to the guest bedroom. Painted a soft blue with white trim, the waist-high white bead board gave a cottage feel to the room and yellow sunflowers smiled cheerfully from atop the dresser.
“This room is gorgeous, Michelle!” her mother exclaimed. “You did a wonderful job decorating it. Maybe you should switch from teaching to interior design,” she teased.
“I’m glad you like it,” Michelle replied, beaming. “It’s slowly coming together. The living room is my next project.”
“With that cozy family room of yours, you really don’t need to spend much time in there, but it would be nice to dress it up for company,” her mom suggested.
“That’s what I’m hoping to do. I’ve been checking online for furniture sales, but nothing’s clicked with me yet.”
“It will, dear. Maybe we can go out looking while I’m here. A large, colorful throw rug and a new coffee table would really help to pull the room together,” Sheila suggested, adding, “It’s handy that you have this semester off to get yourself settled before taking on your student teaching.”
“That’s the plan!” she replied, hoping she sounded enthusiastic.
Sheila smiled. She reached over and stroked her daughter’s hair. “Well, honey, I think I’ll get out of this suit and put on something warm and comfortable.”
Michelle nodded. “I’ll go get the lunch on.”
“If you wait just a few minutes, I’ll be happy to help you,” her mom offered.
“That’s okay, Mom. It’s pretty simple. You just relax and get settled while I get it going.”
While her mother unpacked and changed outfits, Michelle worked in the kitchen. Earlier that day, she’d run over to their favorite bakery to buy a freshly baked vegetable quiche. Retrieving it from the refrigerator, she popped it into the oven to reheat.
Gathering place mats, napkins, and silverware, she went into the dining room and began to set the table. It felt almost like she was playing house and getting ready for a tea party with her mom. Wanting everything to be perfect, she decoratively arranged the place settings around the centerpiece—a floral bouquet from her garden in colors that matched the woven pastel place mats. Next, she went over to the hutch and carefully removed some china luncheon plates, cups, and saucers.
Her mother came out of the guest room wearing jeans and a soft, peach-colored sweatshirt with pale blue and green seashells printed across the front. She looked much more comfortable and at home. Michelle smiled and gestured toward the dining room table. Sheila’s expression showed her approval and appreciation of Michelle’s efforts to create a cozy atmosphere for their lunch.
“I’m beginning to feel like royalty,” her mom said with a smile.
“Make yourself comfortable. Lunch will be ready in just a few minutes,” she promised, excusing herself to check on the quiche.
While Michelle was in the kitchen, Sheila relaxed at the table. Meanwhile, Max took advantage of the moment alone with her. He pranced up and proudly dropped a small gray mouse at her feet. She cried out and quickly lifted both feet off the ground. This reaction startled him, and he ran behind the buffet. A second look revealed the synthetic nature of the rodent, and Sheila laughed to herself as she picked up the little toy to examine it more closely.
Calling Max out from behind the buffet, she wiggled the mouse on the floor, causing its tail to flutter furiously. Max was poised to pounce when Michelle walked back into the room carrying a pitcher of iced tea and a glass bowl filled with freshly cut fruit. As if on cue, Max retrieved the mouse and possessively carried it out of the dining room.
Michelle shook her head. “He can be a bit theatrical at times,” she explained.
Sheila laughed again and nodded.
“I’ll be right back,” Michelle said, making her final trek to the kitchen. A moment later she returned with a bubbling hot quiche on a tray. She carefully placed it on the table and sat down.
Sheila reached over and took her daughter’s hand, smiling warmly as she looked into her eyes. “I’m so glad to be here, Mimi. It’s still hard to picture you married and living in your own home like this. Your dad would be so proud to see all that you have done to make this house a home.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Michelle responded, giving her hand a squeeze. “I know what you mean about being married and all. Sometimes I can hardly believe it myself.”
They spent the rest of their lunch together reminiscing about Michelle’s childhood and adolescence. They laughed about the puppet shows Michelle and her younger brother, Tim, used to perform on rainy days.
“That puppet theater would never get put away around here!” Michelle observed, nodding to the rain now falling outside the bay window.
Then she asked, “Remember the fashion shows Kristin and I would have?”
“Do I ever! You would raid my closet and then parade around in all sorts of interesting combinations.” Sheila smiled and sighed. “It seems like just yesterday…” her voice trailed off as she stared out the window.
They were quiet for a few moments. The sound of the rain had a hypnotic effect, and they both sat gazing out toward the street. Sometimes just being together was enough. Words weren’t necessary. Sheila soaked in the moment.
Glancing over at her daughter, she saw that Michelle’s mind was somewhere else. “Penny for your thoughts,” she said.
Michelle smiled. “You sound like Grandpa.”
Sheila flashed to an image of Michelle as a small child sitting with her grandfather on their porch swing, as he would say those same words to her. “I guess I do,” she acknowledged, returning her daughter’s smile.
“I was just thinking about Dad again,” Michelle continued. “Does Tim spend any time with him?”
“Not much, dear. Tim wants his independence now. He looks at life much differently than your father. Usually when they get together they just end up butting heads.” She sighed, replaying in her mind a memory of the two of them fighting.
“Well, maybe when Tim gets settled into a real job, it’ll get better between them,” Michelle suggested hopefully.
“Maybe,” Sheila replied, trying to cover her own concerns about her son. Everyone in t
heir family was surprised when Tim turned his back on college in his eagerness to be independent. It seemed such a shame to throw away a career in architecture to work at a surf shop.
After a pause, she changed the subject. “This lunch was delicious, Mimi.”
“Thanks! I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Michelle said with a smile.
As they arose and began clearing the lunch plates, Michelle’s cell phone rang.
“My mom just flew in from California this morning,” she began to explain to the caller. “I was thinking I’d just skip yoga today, but I hate for you to have to miss it. Tony’s car is still in the shop?”
“Yeah, for two more days.”
Sheila interrupted their conversation. “You go ahead, sweetheart. I could use a little nap, and I’m sure Max will be happy to keep me company until you get back.”
Her daughter turned from the phone, placing her hand over the mouthpiece. “Are you sure, Mom? I really hadn’t planned on going today.”
“I’m positive, Michelle. I got up so early this morning to get to the airport on time, and I really would like to have a little rest before dinner. Max and I will be just fine. Right, kitty?”
Max glanced her way but did not reply.
“Okay, Monica," Michelle said, resuming their conversation. “I’ll be there in about an hour.”
“Sorry about that, Mom. If my friend didn’t need a ride, I’d just skip yoga today.”
“It’s not a problem at all. You go have fun at your class. I’ll just rinse off these dishes and relax.”
Michelle went upstairs to get ready to go, and Sheila rinsed off their lunch dishes, and then took her coffee over and sat down on the couch. A few minutes later, Michelle came bounding down the stairs. She started a fire in the fireplace, then she plopped down on a chair and put on her tennis shoes.
“I’ll be home around four-thirty,” she reassured Sheila. “We’re having that chicken casserole you love tonight.”
“Sounds great, dear. Have fun at your class.”
“Okay, Mom. If you need anything, Max will help you,” Michelle said with a wink.
Grabbing her purse and jacket, she was about to leave when she stopped, turned around, and came back for a flyer that was on the coffee table. “See you in a while, Mom,” she said.
As she heard Michelle drive away, Sheila noticed a dark, green book on the end table. “Dreams: A Window into the Spirit . . . hmmm, that’s interesting,” she thought aloud. Picking it up, she flipped through the pages. Intrigue, mixed with wariness, nudged her to begin reading. As the author’s mystical perspective on dreams began to unfold, she felt the slightest twinge of anxiety. Her feelings of concern about Michelle resurfaced.
Something was not right.
CHAPTER FOUR
Michelle could see Monica waiting by the front door when she drove up. She waved, and climbed into the passenger seat. “Thanks for picking me up! I really didn’t want to miss yoga today. My body feels like it’s tied in a million knots,” she explained, smiling at Michelle while she massaged her own neck. “Do you think your mom would want to meet Beth? I feel like I’m babysitting her these days and she seems awfully lonely.”
“That’s a great idea. She’ll only be here for a week or so, but I’m sure we could arrange something.” Michelle replied. “Hey, I’ve got stuff to tell you!” she added.
“What?” Monica looked interested.
“I went to see Bev’s friend at The New World Bookstore,” she began.
“And. . .”
“And she told me lots of stuff about what she thinks my dreams mean, but she also helped me find a great book about it,” she said. “It was really weird, Monica, but the guy who wrote the book looks just like someone from one of my dreams.”
“Maybe you’ve seen him on television before, on one of those daytime talk shows or something,” Monica suggested.
“Don’t think so. He’s been dead for over twenty years.” Michelle watched her friend’s face for a reaction.
“Wow. What do you think it means?”
“I don’t know, but the book is really interesting. I’ll show it to you next time you come over,” she replied.
“Yeah, I’d like to see it. Maybe I can look up some of my dreams, too. Like those ones about the handsome lifeguard asking me if I’d like to join him up in the lifeguard stand…”
“Funny, Monica.” Michelle smiled tolerantly. “Oh, I almost forgot! Check this out,” she added, handing the flyer to Monica. “The class starts in two weeks.”
“Who’s this hunk?” Monica asked, pointing at the photo of Trevor Wind.
“He’s the instructor.”
“What’s the class?” Her friend was obviously focusing on Trevor’s face instead of the course description.
“Read this,” Michelle replied as she pointed to the course description. After a moment she asked, “What do you think?”
Monica was still reading the credits under Trevor’s photo. “It sounds interesting. Let’s go to the first class and check it out,” she suggested with a smile.
Driving down the tree-lined street, Michelle sensed a feeling of kinship deepening between the friends. It was the bond that accompanies those who partner to pioneer forbidden territories. She recalled having this same heady feeling the day she and her brother, Tim, had secretly smoked one of their dad’s cigarettes in the backyard tree house. She brushed aside any connection between then and now, reassuring herself that what she and Monica were contemplating was growth-oriented, not rebellious or dangerous.
As they walked into the yoga class, they saw Bev collecting a stack of large, colorful cards and slipping them into a velvet pouch. It was apparent that she and another class participant had been doing something together with the cards.
Seeing Michelle’s curiosity, Bev explained, “Tarot cards, Michelle. They can help you make decisions or gain insights into your circumstances. I’ll show you sometime, if you’d like.”
Michelle nodded innocently in response to the invitation and settled on the mat in front of her. She had never heard of tarot cards before, but the concept of gaining insight appealed to her. Monica joined her on the floor, taking the mat to her right.
Class was about to begin. They smiled at each other, then closed their eyes and assumed their relaxation positions. With legs crossed and hands resting on their knees, they turned their palms upward and joined their middle fingers and thumbs to close the circle of energy flowing through their bodies.
How comfortable I’ve become with this, Michelle thought to herself, taking a long cleansing breath. She noticed it was getting easier to slip into a state of deep relaxation. Remembering Starla’s encouragement about her dreams signaling spiritual transition, Michelle felt a sense of calm mixed with anticipation. “I must be on the right path,” she thought.
Sheila was snuggled on the couch by the fire, engrossed in Marty Gessler’s book. Multiple references to personal evolution and reincarnation made the author’s affiliation with Eastern thought clear. Sheila had always thought that dreams were a reflection of daily issues, concerns, and decisions being played out by the subconscious mind. Gessler was explaining dreams as a part of the spiritual journey each person takes in the process of evolving to harmony and oneness with the universe. He believed that process required multiple lives via reincarnation, and he divided his interpretations into levels of spiritual attainment, encouraging his readers to journal their dreams as a record of their progress from one plane of consciousness to another.
The further she read, the more Sheila battled her concerns about this book. Michelle was an adult now, and Sheila had always prided herself on her detachment from Michelle and Tim’s spiritual choices. Along with her husband, she subscribed to the philosophy that each individual must make their own decisions regarding religious beliefs.
Although she fondly remembered the years of Christian teaching and nurturing her parents had provided, her marriage to John had introduced a broader perspective on
questions of faith. The Ackerman family was a breed of independent thinkers, and John challenged her faith with his hard-driving questions and atheistic beliefs. Together they’d agreed to expose their children to a wide variety of religious philosophies in order to allow them to make their own choices.
Placing the book back where she had found it, she breathed a silent, generic prayer of protection over her daughter. Though raised under a constant umbrella of prayer, its application eluded Sheila in most of her daily life. However, in times of deep inner turmoil or fear, she could hear her father’s gentle voice in the quiet places of her mind.
“Have you prayed about this?” he had frequently asked whenever she’d brought her childhood concerns to him. With his strong hand covering hers, he would calmly and confidently commit the crisis of the moment into the hands of his Lord. Sheila felt such safety and peace after those prayers.
Was I wrong not to instill this in Michelle and Tim? Sheila thought about the many vacations her children had spent with their grandparents and hoped that they had absorbed some of this powerful faith.
After class, Michelle asked Bev about the tarot cards. She was interested in looking at them but Bev said she’d rather explain them while doing a reading for Michelle. Not wanting to leave her mother at home alone for very long, Michelle was hesitant to take the time. Bev reassured her that a few minutes would suffice for a brief reading of the cards.
“What question would you like answered today?” she asked Michelle.
Michelle’s mind flashed back to her mother’s concern over her dad. “How will my dad’s lawsuit be resolved?” she inquired hesitantly.
“Shuffle the cards three times and then cut the deck once to the left and once to the right,” Bev instructed as she handed the oversized cards to Michelle.
After complying with those directions, Michelle gave the deck back to Bev. She watched as her teacher carefully placed seven of the cards facedown in a row, starting from the center and working her way out on each side. Bev’s wavy gray hair framed her face like a halo and her green eyes sparkled as she smiled at Michelle.
Out of a Dream (Sandy Cove Series Book 1) Page 4