Out of a Dream (Sandy Cove Series Book 1)

by Rosemary Hines

  Michelle was becoming accustomed to Steve leaving for work before she woke up in the morning, but she usually had some awareness that he was gone. This morning she was totally oblivious to everything.

  It took her a moment to realize she was not a young lady living at home with her parents and being courted by another man. Her mind was reeling with such a conglomeration of thoughts and feelings. Part of her was aware of the danger of this friendship with Trevor, but another part was flattered by all the attention and intrigued by his charm.

  “I’m totally in control of myself,” she said aloud as she got dressed. “I won’t do anything stupid.”

  Trevor stared absentmindedly at the phone while he pictured Michelle in her yellow bathrobe. In his imagination, he could feel her silky, black hair and see her bright, sparkling eyes. The olive complexion of her neck, with its flawless finish, would have the fragrance of jasmine. Undressing her with his thoughts, he pictured the naked curves of a goddess. He smiled, pleased with himself for thinking of the little symbolic gift he had purchased. It would bring them closer than ever.

  Pressing the phone to his ear, John listened as to it rang at the other end. He just wanted to hear Sheila’s voice for a minute and wasn’t even sure if he would say anything back or not. After four rings, the answering machine clicked on. Sheila’s recording told him that she had gone to her parents’ house. No matter. He hung up the phone and stared off into space. There was no way he would call her there. He didn’t need Phil or Joan questioning him.

  His head was throbbing. He hadn’t eaten in forty-eight hours. A tight knot kept twisting in his gut, robbing him of any appetite. Standing, he walked across the room, picked up a manila envelope, and left the hotel.

  Steve sat at his desk looking at the brochure about the cabin at the lake. Although he’d enjoyed his weekend of Bible study with Ben, he was yearning for some time alone with Michelle. She seemed so preoccupied with her father’s situation and all of her New Age studies. He knew there was nothing either of them could do at this point to bring John home any sooner, and Sheila seemed to be okay at her parents’ house for a while.

  Two days of enjoying nature and each other’s company would be the perfect opportunity to catch up on their relationship and possibly open the door to some important issues such as his new faith. He was eager to share something about it with Michelle. Although he wasn’t sure what to say, he needed to somehow begin to tell her about this wonderful new facet of his life.

  “You look like a man deep in thought,” his partner, Roger, said with a smile.

  “Just thinking about my wife,” he replied.

  “Now there’s something worth thinking about. I’ll bet you missed her last weekend.”

  “That would be a smart bet. Are you a gambler?”

  “No. But if I were, I’d be gambling on you asking for the day off on Friday to get a head start on your little getaway.”

  “Right again!” Steve feigned astonishment.

  “Go ahead and take it, pal. You’ve been working too hard this past month, and with that new land merger case starting up next week, you might be burning the midnight oil around here again soon.”

  Steve thanked Roger for understanding and promised he’d be ready to tackle the new case bright and early Monday morning.

  He started to call Michelle but then changed his mind. “I’ll tell her tonight,” he thought with a smile.

  “It’s not really a big deal,” Trevor said as he handed the gift box to her.

  Michelle looked into his eyes and could see a confidence that was very attractive. Why did he always seem so self-assured? She carefully unwrapped the box, which she could see was obviously wrapped by male hands, and lifted the cotton inside to reveal a key chain with a copper enameled butterfly on it. Patterns of sapphire blue, sun-kissed yellow, and glittering crimson were delicately detailed on the outstretched wings.

  “It’s beautiful!” Michelle said.

  “Just like you, Miss Butterfly!” Trevor smiled.

  In an instant, her mind recalled the moment of freedom and release when he had guided her out of the cocoon of her past. She surprised herself when a tear slipped down her cheek.

  “Now what is that for?” he asked as he wiped the tear away with his thumb.

  “I don’t know, Trevor. It’s just that I . . . well. . . I really appreciate all that you’ve done for me.”

  “Michelle, believe me, I’ve wanted to do all of it. Watching you grow like this has inspired and encouraged me as much as it’s helped you. And I thought this little butterfly would be a good reminder to you to always keep stretching and learning and never let the past hold you back.”

  “Thanks, Trevor. You’ve been good for me,” she acknowledged.

  “We’re good for each other. Your enthusiasm and freshness about all that you’re learning, encourages me to keep growing too,” he said reassuringly. He reached over and flipped her hair away from her face. “Besides, I like you.”

  “I like you too, Mr. Wind!” Michelle said with a smile, while she fought the voice inside that warned her to back away.

  Steve pushed his paperwork aside and left the office to go pick up some lunch. Before returning to work, he decided to swing by the house and pick up his Bible.

  Michelle’s car was parked in the garage, and he could hear the washing machine running in the adjacent laundry room. When he got to the door, he saw that her keys were still in the lock, and an unusual butterfly decoration was hanging from the key ring beside the familiar wooden carving of her name.

  “Michelle! You left your keys in the door!” Steve called to her as he came into the kitchen.

  “Hi, Steve! What are you doing home?” she asked with a surprised expression on her face.

  “I just came by to pick up something. Where did you go this morning?

  She looked a bit flustered and said, “I was just out for coffee at the Coffee Stop.”

  “What’s this butterfly thing? Is that new?” he asked as he handed her the keys that he had retrieved from the lock.

  Michelle blushed. “It’s just a little something my teacher gave me,” she stammered, beginning to twist her hair.

  “What teacher?” He could tell she was really nervous.

  “You know, the teacher of the class I take at the bookstore.”

  “Since when do teachers give gifts to students? I thought it was supposed to be the other way around,” he said, feeling confused.

  “I don’t know, Steve. I guess it just reminded him of something about me,” she replied defensively. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Okay, if you say so. But I don’t really like another guy giving my wife gifts,” he said.

  Michelle just looked at him, picked up the laundry basket, and headed up the stairs.

  He shrugged his shoulders, grabbed his Bible off the end table in the living room and a banana from the fruit bowl for his lunch, and then headed back to work without saying good-bye. This was obviously not the time to talk to Michelle about their weekend getaway.

  It was late in the day. Sheila walked out to the front porch of her parents’ home. The aging wood beneath her feet creaked with a familiar sound. Something about this place comforted her. Maybe it was the view of wide-open spaces so foreign to her life in Southern California.

  She leaned against the railing and looked out over the expansive front lawn, breathing in the sweet fragrances of gardenias planted at the base of the steps leading from the concrete walkway to the porch. The deep blue tones of the sky were beginning to fade as dusk approached.

  She could remember her childhood years and how she loved this porch. Flashbacks of sitting on the steps telling secrets with her best friend, swinging on the porch swing with her dog, Muffin, and those special times of cuddling on her father’s lap in the big wicker rocker, all spoke peace and safety into her soul.

  How she wished she could retreat to those simpler times. But at least she had a chance to relax here for a few days wh
ile she decided what to do about John.

  Phil strolled up the walkway from the mailbox. Seeing his daughter on the porch touched his heart. She looked so drawn and fragile. He wanted to somehow take the burden of worry off of her shoulders, but he knew deep inside that only God could do that.

  “How about some tea, honey?” he asked with a gentle smile. “We can sit here and sip while we watch the sun go down.”

  “That sounds good, Dad. I’ll go fix it,” Sheila replied.

  “You just sit down here on the swing and let your old pop pamper you for a change,” Phil insisted.

  “Okay, if you insist,” she said, sinking down into the soft cushion on the swing.

  As she rocked, Sheila could hear her father puttering around in the kitchen. He was making the tea by himself since Joan was at the library serving her volunteer time reading to the local children.

  She was glad for this little window of time alone with her father. He had always been such a beacon of wisdom for her, and she really needed his input now. But that was not the only reason. There was something about their relationship that eased her anxieties. He had a calmness, an inner peace that spilled over onto her.

  A few minutes later, he nudged the screen door open with his foot and carefully carried the tray with tea and cookies on the little wicker table beside her. Then he handed Sheila her cup. “Two sugars, right?” he said with a wink.

  “Two sugars,” she replied, smiling in return.

  Later that night, John walked the streets of another town, his shoulders sagging as if burdened by a heavy weight. Cradled in his dangling left hand was the large legal size envelope containing paperwork on his lawsuit. Why was he carrying this thing around? Logic and purpose evaded him. He had no particular destination and no awareness of how long or how far he had wandered. His mind was dead tired, and he felt numb all over.

  As if observing himself from afar, he continued to move mechanically through town without any sense of connection to his environment or his own body. Looking down at the sidewalk when anyone passed, he avoided even the most trivial encounter with another human being. One word kept repeating itself in his mind. Escape. Somehow he must escape.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Eventually the darkening skies and the cool dampness of evening began to settle on John’s shoulders. A fragrant aroma of Italian cuisine and the warm sounds of conversation and laughter drew him into a corner restaurant. The red carpet, dark wood tables with barrel chairs, and round candlelit tables gave the place a traditional Mediterranean look.

  Noticing that all the tables were occupied, John wandered over to the bar. He absentmindedly placed his envelope on the counter and slid onto a bar stool.

  “What can I do for you?” the bartender asked with a friendly voice.

  “Sort this mess out,” John muttered under his breath as he pushed the envelope off to the side.

  “Pardon me?”

  “Never mind. Just get me a vodka tonic,” he replied with a sigh.

  “Coming right up.”

  Glancing around the dining area, John noticed a woman who appeared to be in her late thirties looking his way. She smiled, and he made a feeble attempt to smile back then turned away.

  A moment later she was beside him at the bar asking the bartender for a glass of Perrier. “The food’s great here, but the waiters can be a little slow,” she said after making eye contact with John. “You look like you’re carrying the world on those shoulders,” she observed. “My name’s Sylvia.”

  John looked her over more carefully. Curly auburn hair and sparkling green eyes complemented her cameo complexion. “John,” he replied and extended his hand. Her handshake was firm and confident.

  “What’s got you so down, John?” she asked, settling herself on the bar stool next to him and sipping on her Perrier.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Well, I’ve got all evening,” she replied. “Maybe just talking about it will help.”

  He glanced over at her and saw what appeared to be genuine concern and compassion in her eyes. Part of him wanted to collapse and be comforted while the other part wanted to run.

  She reached over and touched the envelope. “This have something to do with your worries?” she asked intuitively.

  “You might say that,” he replied.

  “Mind if I take a look?”

  “Go ahead.” John could not believe his own words.

  She carefully slipped the stack of papers out of the envelope. Her eyebrows rose when she saw they were legal documents. “Looks like you’ve got yourself in quite a pickle here,” she said as she perused the paperwork.

  “You familiar with court documents?” he asked tentatively.

  “You might say that. I’m a paralegal. My brother’s an attorney. He got me interested in law, and now he works me to the bone at his office.”

  “I wonder what your brother would have to say about this mess,” John said, almost as if he was talking to himself.

  “It’s hard to say. Maybe I could set you up with an appointment,” she suggested, blushing as her stomach growled. “Sorry about that. I haven’t eaten anything all day. Are you going to have dinner?”

  “I hadn’t really thought about it, but now that you mention it, I am feeling a bit hungry.”

  “Tell you what. Let’s order some food. I’ll look through this more while we eat. Maybe I can get you in to talk to Jeff tomorrow.”

  John looked her in the eye. Was this some kind of pass? She looked back with a sisterly smile, and as if reading his mind said, “Look, John Whoever-You-Are, all I’m talking about here is a friendly dinner. I can see that wedding ring.”

  He looked down at his left hand and twisted the gold band. Glancing over to hers, he noticed that she did not wear any rings.

  “Widowed,” she said, and then added, “So what do you say? The manicotti here is out of this world.”

  “You know, I think I’ll take you up on that. I haven’t eaten for two days. Maybe a good meal will help me think more clearly,” he agreed.

  She patted his arm, slipped off the bar stool, and gestured for him to follow her back to her table.

  Phil studied his daughter’s face as she stared out toward the horizon. The sunset bathed the sky in hues of purple and pink. Sheila looked mesmerized and deep in thought.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” he said softly.

  She turned and looked him in the eye. “Oh, Dad. Remember when it used to be that simple? I had a jelly jar full of pennies from you asking me that after school every day!”

  He smiled and nodded. “I always looked forward to those moments in the rocker.”

  “Me, too. No matter how bad my day might have gone, I could always look forward to a penny and a stick of gum!”

  “I wish I could make everything okay for you now, honey. I know you’re worried about John. Your mother and I have been praying for him continuously.”

  “I know you have. Thanks, Dad, but it’s going to take more than prayer to fix this mess.”

  His heart broke as he looked at his daughter. She didn’t understand God’s power and she was unable to find his peace. If only there was some way to guarantee a transfer of faith from parent to child, but God had not encoded faith into DNA, and all he could do was pray and wait for her heart and mind to reopen. He knew from past conversations that it was no use trying to talk her into returning to her childhood faith.

  A few minutes later, Joan’s car pulled into the gravel driveway, and Sheila stood up. “Mom’s home. I’d better take this tray back to the kitchen and help her get dinner started. Thanks for caring, Dad. Keep praying. Who knows? Maybe it will help.”

  Sylvia’s smile was contagious. A great conversationalist and a down-home friendly countenance made her a pleasure to be with. In a very short time, she was able to put John at ease, which was a rare feat in his current mindset.

  In spite of his legal dilemma, he found himself relaxing and smiling as he listened to her tales a
bout the people in this small town. For the first time in over a month, he was actually hungry. It was as if the dark cloud hovering over him had evaporated.

  Maybe this gal and her brother are the answer I’ve been looking for. There must be some reason why he was feeling so much better.

  “Hey, Sylvia, I really appreciate you taking the time to do this,” he offered as she studied his paperwork over her salad.

  “No problem. I’m glad to help if I can,” she replied. “Besides, I hate to eat dinner by myself. I never could get used to it after my husband passed away.”

  John’s eyebrows rose. “I’m sorry,” he said awkwardly.

  “Don’t be sorry. He’s in a better place. Cancer consumed most of him long before he actually died. It was a relief to know he wouldn’t have to suffer any more,” she added. “God’s taken good care of me since then.” She gazed off into space for a few moments then looked back at him. “So tell me about yourself,” she asked.

  “Not too much to tell. I’ve got a wonderful wife named Sheila and two grown children—Michelle, who’s married and lives in Oregon, and Tim, my free-spirit son,” he said, looking away and shaking his head.

  “You live around here?”

  “No. We live in Seal Beach, down in Orange County.”

  “By Long Beach. I’ve been there. It’s a quaint little town. My husband and I stopped there overnight on a trip to San Diego.” She looked away and seemed lost in thought for a brief moment but rapidly rallied her attention back to John. “So what brings you up to this neck of the woods?”

  “I needed to get away. Be by myself and sort through this mess.”

  “Well, let’s hope that my brother can give you some helpful suggestions, and you can get back to your wife and son. They must be worried.”