When Dreams Come True

by Margaret Daley

  Dane scanned the soccer fields, crowded with parents and their children. The sun beamed down, warming the early morning chill. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky. A perfect day. Yeah, right! His life was in a shambles. He didn’t have any idea what he was going to do beyond today. There were gaps in his memory that ate at him, terrorizing his sleep. His son hated him, didn’t want him around. His guilt still plagued him. And his wife was a different person. He was a different person.

  Wilbur Thompson walked past Dane, tossing a narrowed look at him. “He thinks he’s some hotshot DEA agent. My son could outshoot him,” he mumbled to the old man next to him.

  That was his problem, Dane thought. He didn’t know who he was anymore and he certainly didn’t feel like a DEA agent. And that was part of the problem, since his job had always defined him in the past. With a shake of his head he started for the van. As he drew closer to the vehicle, he noticed his son was in the backseat, the same as when he had ridden with him to the game. Like a chauffeur. That underscored their relationship more than anything else.

  As Dane backed out of the parking space and pulled onto the road, he said, “I thought we could grab some hamburgers before we head for church.”

  Not a word from the backseat. The chill in the van had nothing to do with the outside temperature, which was a pleasant sixty-five.

  When Dane stopped to order at the drive-through, Blake finally said, not to Dane but to the invisible person behind the speaker mounted on the sign, “I’ll have large fries and a double cheeseburger with a chocolate milkshake.”

  Patience, Dane. He gritted his teeth and drove to the window to pay for their order. After getting the sack with their food, he handed it to Blake, who hurriedly withdrew his food then dropped the bag onto the front seat. Dane’s hamburger rolled out onto the floor.

  Dane calmly pulled to the curb and threw the van into Park, then swiveled around to spear his son with his regard. “It’s clear things aren’t working out between us.”

  “You think?” Blake muttered, his gaze glued on the window to his side.

  “Yes, I think,” Dane said in a surprisingly level voice when his impulse was to shake some sense into his son. “You’re angry with me so why don’t you tell me what’s wrong so maybe we can move beyond it? Keeping it inside isn’t good.” He should know. He was an expert at keeping his feelings inside.

  Blake continued to stare out the window with his arms crossed over his chest and his mouth set in a stubborn line.

  “Son, I’m here for you. Talk to me.”

  Nothing.

  With a deep sigh, Dane twisted back around and threw the van into Drive. “I’m not going anywhere so you and I need to learn to live peacefully together.”

  Still nothing.

  In the rearview mirror Dane saw his son remain frozen in that defiant position for several blocks before he decided to unwrap his hamburger and take a bite. In the mirror their gazes connected and Blake quickly averted his.

  “I wasn’t gone because I chose to be gone for two-and-a-half years.” The deafening silence spoke volumes to Dane. He didn’t know what to do to tear down his son’s barriers. “My plane crashed in the jungle and I was injured badly, all out of my control. For a long time I didn’t know who I was. I—”

  “Why did you volunteer to be the assistant coach? I don’t want you to help the team.”

  The heated force behind his son’s words could have melted the polar ice caps. Dane gripped the steering wheel, turning into the parking lot at the church. “Mr. Stone needed someone and I am available.”

  “Until you leave again,” Blake muttered, then snatched up his uneaten lunch and exited the van the second Dane had come to a stop.

  His son raced toward the garden at the side of the building where people were gathered. Dane retrieved his hamburger from the floor, grabbed the almost-empty sack and stuffed his food down into it. At a much slower pace Dane made his way toward the group. Seeing a trash can, he tossed his bag, with his untouched meal, into it, his appetite gone like his son.

  “Hello. You must be Dane Witherspoon, Zoey’s husband. I’m Samuel Morgan. It’s good to see you here.” The tall man offered him his hand.

  After greeting the minister, Dane said, “Can I help? I don’t have any plans for the afternoon.”

  “Sure. We can always use an extra pair of hands.”

  “Where do you want me?”

  “You can help Blake with the flower beds.”

  Dane thought back to the past fifteen minutes in the van and decided his son needed some cooling-off time. He needed some cooling-off time. Forcing himself on Blake probably wasn’t the wisest option at the moment. “He’s not too happy with me right now.”

  “Zoey said something to me about talking with Blake.”

  “She did? She didn’t say anything to me.” A defensive tone entered his voice that he couldn’t conceal.

  “Blake’s spending the night at our house tonight, and she thought it might be a good time to pull him to the side and see if he would talk about what’s bothering him.”

  There was a part of Dane that wanted to reject Samuel Morgan’s help; there was a part that needed his assistance because he certainly wasn’t succeeding.

  “Where do you need me?” Dane asked again, not wanting to go into his relationship, or lack thereof, with his son.

  “I could use some help raking the last of the dead leaves up.”

  “Fine,” Dane replied, leery of Samuel. He’d put his trust in the Lord to help his little brother and Jacob had ended up dead. He couldn’t afford to make that kind of mistake again, especially when it involved his son.

  After handing Dane a rake, Samuel moved to the area of the garden where all the fallen leaves had gathered, trapped by the stone wall that encircled the Garden of Serenity. Positioning the large trash can between them, Samuel began to rake.

  For a few minutes silence punctuated the air, then Samuel broke the quiet with, “Our wives grew up together.”

  Dane closed his eyes, realizing he wouldn’t escape. “They did?”

  “Yeah. Beth, my wife, Zoey, Tanya, Darcy and Jesse have this little group that meets most Saturday afternoons at Alice’s Cafe.”

  “What do they meet about?” Dane asked, aware that Zoey had missed last Saturday because of him.

  Samuel paused, leaning on his rake. “You know, that’s a good question. Beth doesn’t tell me much about these meetings. But I do know they are very close. I think Beth looks at the other four as her sisters even though she has several siblings. Maybe that’s it. They have some secret sisterhood.”

  Zoey hadn’t said a word to him concerning the others. Again he realized how much he didn’t know about his wife. He couldn’t have said that three years ago. The gulf between him and Zoey widened even more.

  “We should start our own,” Samuel said, resuming his work.

  “Sisterhood?”

  Samuel laughed. “That would get the tongues wagging.”

  Out of the corner of his eye Dane saw a police car pulling up to the curb by the garden. A large man in a blue uniform climbed out of the vehicle and strode toward a young teenager near his son. Samuel stopped, tossed down his rake and headed for the pair. Dane followed.

  “Eddy, I need you to come with me.”

  “What the problem, Zach?” Samuel stepped in between the two.

  “Reverend.” The police chief nodded toward him. “There was another robbery last night and someone saw Eddy running from the scene.”

  The minister pivoted toward the teenager, one brow arched in question. “Do you know anything about this?”

  Eddy threw down his spade, the blade end sticking in the soft ground. “The person must have been mistaken.”

  “Whether he is or not, we’ll have to sort this out down at the station. I’ve got a call into your dad. He’ll meet us down there.”

  The teenager stomped past the police chief. “Yeah, I bet he will.”

  “Sorry, Samuel, about
this interruption.” Zach Thompson hurried after Eddy.

  Dane came to stand next to the minister. “Trouble in paradise?”

  “You could say that. We’ve had a rash of robberies lately, and as much as I wish I didn’t feel this way, I wouldn’t be surprised if Eddy O’Neal knew something about it.”

  “A troubled teen?”

  “Most definitely. I’ve tried to include him as much as he’ll let me in some church activities, but he blames his father for his mother leaving last year. Their relationship isn’t what it should be and that’s putting it mildly.”

  Like his and Blake’s. The irony of the situation struck Dane and the similarities between his younger brother’s and his situation. Was it true that if a person didn’t understand history he was doomed to repeat it?

  “Have you talked to him, Reverend?” Dane was mildly surprised that he was asking that question, but maybe Zoey was right and Blake—like Eddy—could be helped by an outside source.

  “I’ve tried but the person has to want to listen before it’s effective. Eddy isn’t ready yet.”

  “I’m not sure that Blake is ready.”

  Samuel studied him. “Do you care if I try?”

  Suddenly Dane felt exposed for all the world to see, his emotions laid bare. His throat closed. The pressure in his chest built until he wasn’t sure he could draw in a decent breath. “Not if it’ll help my son.”

  “I hope I can.”

  As Samuel returned to his raking, flashes of Dane’s past—his desperate battle to save his brother from drugs, his failure to succeed in that goal, the plane as it plunged toward the green canopy, then nothing but a blank slate—tumbled through his mind as though he were rolling down a hill, gaining momentum the farther he went until he crashed at the bottom, as battered and bruised as his emotions felt at the moment. Inhaling then exhaling deep breaths finally alleviated the tightness about his chest.

  He scooped up his rake and attacked the pile of leaves, determined to work until exhaustion claimed him. Maybe then the nightmare wouldn’t come.

  An hour later a three-car caravan came into the parking lot with horns blaring. Everyone stared at the occupants as they piled out of the vehicles with a couple of ice coolers in hand.

  “Ah, I see my wife has finally arrived with the goodies,” Samuel said beside Dane.

  The last person to climb from one of the cars was Zoey. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. Her large, soulful eyes pierced his armor as she sashayed toward him with a saucy look. Her long blond ponytail bounced behind her and a mischievous grin dimpled her cheeks.

  “So what do we owe this honor to?”

  “We’ve come to rescue y’all,” Zoey said in an exaggerated Southern drawl. She waved her hand toward the group of women that accompanied her. “We’ve brought gifts for the hard workers.”

  “Gifts?” He peered at the two ice chests sitting on the stone path in the garden.

  “Pop and candy.”

  “My kind of diet.”

  “I remember your sweet tooth.”

  “That hasn’t changed, I’m quickly realizing. Do you know in a week’s time I’ve gained three pounds?”

  “Good.” She playfully pinched his side. “You need to. I have a few I could give you.”

  He started for the cooler. “Do you want anything?”

  “Something diet.”

  “You brought diet for the kids?”

  “No, for us.” Zoey indicated the other four ladies. “We certainly weren’t going to watch you all drink.”

  Dane snagged two sodas and a chocolate bar, then walked back to Zoey. He noticed Blake wolfing down his drink and candy while standing with several boys about his age. He didn’t know the names of a lot of the people and decided in that moment he’d better starting learning who everyone was. He could no longer keep himself separated if he wanted his marriage to work. He’d never gotten involved in a community—never had the time—but maybe that needed to change.

  Glancing at Zoey, he saw the animated expression on her face as she said something to one of her women friends. She was involved to the point he didn’t know if he could talk her into leaving Sweetwater when he finally made a decision about his future.

  “Here.” He handed her a diet soda.

  “Dane, this is Beth, Samuel’s wife, and a good friend.”

  “Nice to meet you.” He shook Beth’s hand, liking the warm smile that lit her face. “I understand you work at the high school, too.”

  “Trying to instill English into ninth and tenth graders.”

  “Are you succeeding?” Dane took a swig of his drink.

  “Some days are better than others. Excuse me. I see Craig going for his third candy bar.” Beth made a beeline for a young boy who had been with Blake.

  “That’s her stepson and one of Blake’s friends,” Zoey said with a chuckle as she watched Beth firmly remove the chocolate bar from Craig’s hand.

  “He’s not on the soccer team.”

  “No. But I think they want to start a band together.”

  “A band! My son?” Again he was reminded of what little he knew of Blake. Once he’d thought he’d known everything about his son. “Why haven’t I heard him playing anything?”

  “Because Samuel gave them some space in his detached garage to practice.”

  “What’s he play?”

  “Keyboard. They haven’t really been playing long. Sean sings. Craig and Nate play the guitars.”

  “What else is going on that I need to know about?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The regret Zoey heard in Dane’s question drew her full attention. If they hadn’t been standing out in the middle of the garden next to the church, she would have smoothed the lines of his brow, cradled his face and kissed him. Kissed him!? One wistful expression and she turned to mush, forgetting all those nights—even before his disappearance—spent alone, her arms aching for her husband.

  “Blake loves to play soccer and the keyboard. He’s active in the youth group and has a nice core group of friends. He hates to clean his room, and if I let him, he would watch TV for hours. His grades are so-so. That about sums him up.”

  “He doesn’t like school? He used to.”

  “Not for several years.”

  “Since I disappeared?”

  “Yep. In fact, I hired a tutor for one semester right after you…disappeared, because he and I couldn’t work together. He wouldn’t listen to me.”

  Pain clouded his eyes. Dane stepped closer, grasping her arm. “I’m so sorry.”

  This time she did cup his face, compelling him to look deep into her eyes. “You didn’t do it on purpose. I know that, and I think one day Blake will, too.”

  “Do you really feel that way?”

  “Yes, I feel that way. I won’t kid you. I didn’t like all the times you were away, but I do know you were doing a job that needed to be done. I know how important the battle against drugs is for you. And I certainly know you didn’t plan to stay away for so long.”

  His eyes closed for a few seconds before his gaze locked with hers, such sorrow in his expression. “I’ve seen firsthand the destructiveness of drugs.”

  Before his life had been so involved, she remembered that first year of their marriage Dane had volunteered at a halfway house in Dallas for people who had been on drugs. But for some reason he couldn’t deal with that for long and quit, throwing his total energy into being the best DEA agent there was. With his background in counseling, she’d never quite understood why he’d left the halfway house, but he wouldn’t talk about it with her.

  The pain emanating from him cracked her heart. So much stood between them, but in that moment, for just a split second, nothing did. Then it was gone, Dane severing visual contact, his mask of invincibility in place.

  “Thanks for bringing the treats. I didn’t eat lunch so this is it till dinner.” Dane held up the candy bar, then began unwrapping it.

  “Why didn’t you?” She put some
space between them, achingly conscious of his barriers that had descended. It was so second nature to him to erect those walls around his innermost self that she didn’t think she could ever get through, even with her counseling skills.

  “It ended up on the floor of the van.” Dane finished the last bite of his candy bar, then washed it down with some pop.

  “How?”

  “Blake.”

  “Oh, Dane, I’m sorry. Maybe you should have gone with Mandy today.”

  “No way! Story hour with Felicia Winters? I don’t think so.”

  The lightness that crept into his voice touched a responsive chord in her. “Avoiding her won’t stop her from hounding you to do a program on the Amazon.”

  “I’ve been trained in evasive tactics. She’s no match for me.” He tossed his empty can into the trash bag nearby. “Besides, I would have missed the opportunity to volunteer to be the assistant coach for Blake’s soccer team.”

  “Did Alex explain to you why the last one backed out?”

  Dane shook his head, wariness creeping into his expression.

  “There are several adamant parents on the team who can be quite…persistent. Actually they put Felicia to shame on their hounding abilities.”

  “How does Alex handle it?”

  “He’s become quite good at evasive tactics, too. Also, he’s learned to tune out those particular parents and their relatives.”

  “Is one of them Wilbur Thompson?”

  “Yes! Has he said something to you already?”

  “Not about the coaching. The police chief seems young to have an eleven-or twelve-year-old.”

  “It’s Zach’s older brother’s son. But Zach is older than he looks. I have to admit his youth has thrown a few people off.”

  “This town just gets more interesting by the second.”

  * * *

  “So what do you all think?” Dane asked, cleaning off Tara’s face before lifting her out of her high chair, his daughter wiggling the whole time to get down.

  The second Tara’s feet hit the wooden floor she ran toward the door as fast as her little legs could take her. Both Alex and Samuel chuckled, watching Tara escape the kitchen, heading toward the den to join Mandy. After the scare with her ear infection four weeks ago, it was good to see her so active.