When Dreams Come True

by Margaret Daley

  “Let’s pray.” Zoey took Beth’s hand on one side and Tanya’s on the other, then bowed her head. “Dear Heavenly Father, watch over these friends and their families. Help us and guide us through our everyday decisions and problems that arise. Through You we draw the strength we need. Through You we receive the love and forgiveness we ask for. In Jesus Christ’s name. Amen.”

  “I heard the exciting news about the youth center,” Jesse said. “Nick has already decided to fund the start of the program.”

  Darcy and Tanya looked at each other with Tanya asking, “A youth center? This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

  “Samuel, Alex and Dane met yesterday about the center. Dane proposed it to them. Samuel has also called Wilbur about the building next door to the church. It looks like he’ll give it to the program.” Beth bit into a chocolate chip cookie.

  “Wilbur!” Zoey and Darcy exclaimed together. “For free?”

  “I know. I was surprised when Samuel told me right before I came over here. I think the robbery last night threw him off-kilter.”

  “The building needs a lot of work. I doubt he would have been able to do much with it.” Darcy picked up a toy that Rebecca had tossed across the living room. “At least this way it won’t completely fall into disrepair.”

  “Did you see Wilbur at the soccer game this morning? He didn’t say two words. Most unusual. To think, he only lives a few houses down and he was robbed last night. I was here when it probably happened and didn’t notice or hear a thing.” Zoey shivered, remembering the two police cars out in front of Wilbur’s, their red lights flashing as though warning the whole neighborhood of danger lurking.

  “Yeah, I can remember when we grew up here in Sweetwater and our parents didn’t bother to lock their doors.” Jesse sipped her lemonade.

  Tanya shook her head. “Not anymore. I double-check my doors before I leave the house.”

  “Well, for whatever reason we got the building and the funding, I’m glad we’re going to have a youth center.” Zoey thought of all the teenagers she counseled at school who could use a place to go. “Beth, did Samuel give you a timeline on the center?”

  “I think he’s looking at getting it up and running by the start of school next year, if not sooner. We’ll have to find someone to run the center. Get the place fixed up and recruit volunteers.”

  “That’s a tall order in four months,” Jesse said. “Who could we get to do it? Samuel would be great.”

  “Samuel will help with it, but it would be too much for him to run the center and the church.”

  “Beth’s right. The church is a full-time job.” Darcy retrieved another toy that had flown across the room.

  “How about Dane? It was his suggestion. Didn’t he study to be a counselor in college? That way he wouldn’t have to go back to the DEA.”

  Darcy, Tanya and Beth nodded their agreement to Jesse’s suggestion, all four of them peering at Zoey.

  “I don’t see him giving up his job with the DEA. That was his life before his disappearance,” Zoey said, dreading the time her husband would go back to his old job. She couldn’t see how it was going to work well with the family living in Sweetwater, even if Dane were assigned to the office in Louisville or Lexington.

  “Maybe things are different and—”

  The sound of the doorbell interrupted Beth. Zoey rose and went to answer it. Samuel stood on her front porch with a sad look on his face.

  “Is Tanya here?” he asked.

  Zoey knew something awful had happened by the solemn tone of his voice. “Yes. Is something wrong with Crystal?”

  “No, it’s her ex-husband. Tom died in a prison fight.”

  Zoey closed her eyes for a few seconds and sent a quick prayer to God for help for Tanya and Crystal. They had already gone through so much. Even though Tom had divorced Tanya because he was in prison, she hadn’t wanted him to but could do nothing to stop him from doing it, especially when Tom refused to see her.

  “I’ll go get her, Samuel.” Zoey slowly walked into the living room, remembering her own time when she had been told by Dane’s boss that he had disappeared. Then later Carl had come back to inform her that the government thought Dane had died. Each visit had sent a maelstrom of emotions raging through her.

  “Who was that? I thought I heard Samuel,” Beth said, looking toward the entrance.

  “You did.” Beth started to rise, and Zoey waved her down. “He needs to see Tanya.”

  All the color drained from Tanya’s face. She opened her mouth, but no words would come out. Instead she forced herself to her feet and trudged toward the entryway.

  Jesse arched her brow in question. Zoey mouthed the word Tom and hurriedly followed Tanya.

  Samuel came to Tanya, took both her hands and said, “The prison called me about Tom. He was killed in a fight this morning.”

  Frozen, her eyes wide, Tanya stared through Samuel as if she hadn’t heard what he’d said.

  Zoey laid her hand on Tanya’s shoulder and squeezed gently, wishing she could take her friend’s pain away. No one could except the Lord. But she would be here for Tanya when she needed someone to talk to.

  “I’ll make the arrangements to have Tom’s body shipped back here to be buried. You don’t need to worry about that right now,” Samuel said.

  Finally Tanya blinked. “Thanks, Samuel. I—how am I going to tell Crystal?”

  “I can come with you if you want,” Zoey said before their minister could say anything. She remembered having to tell Blake and knew what Tanya was going through. Even though Crystal was older than Blake, the task would be difficult and heart-wrenching because Crystal loved her father.

  Samuel caught Zoey’s gaze. “Go with Zoey. I’ll start working on the funeral arrangements.”

  “Okay,” Tanya responded but didn’t move.

  “I’ll go get your purse and drive you home. Dane can come pick me up later.”

  * * *

  Now that Jesse was at Tanya’s to sit with her, Zoey needed to go home and especially make sure that Blake would be all right with the news of Tom’s death. Even though her son hadn’t known Tom, Blake didn’t handle death well.

  Zoey felt as though she had been pulled and pushed in so many different directions. Tanya and Crystal’s sorrow cut deep into her. Their sobs had ripped open a wound healed over time. Although Dane was alive, the emotions she had experienced inundated her all over again.

  When the doorbell at Tanya’s rang, Zoey rushed to answer it. Dane stood in the entrance, stiff, his brow creased.

  “Is there anything I can do?” her husband asked, opening the screen door.

  Zoey shook her head, going into Dane’s embrace for a few seconds before stepping back. “We’re all taking turns staying with Tanya. We don’t want her and Crystal to be alone. As expected, they are taking it very hard.”

  Dane glanced beyond Zoey into the living room. Tanya sat on the couch, a vacant expression on her face, her eyes swollen from crying. Crystal, with her shoulders hunched, stared at her hands that she twisted over and over in her lap. “You went through this,” he whispered, pivoting away from the scene of sorrow. “I’m sorry, Zoey, that you had to.”

  She quietly closed the front door and stopped Dane from descending the steps. “You didn’t do it on purpose.”

  He speared her with a mirthless look. “Do you really believe that?”

  “Sure. Why would you ask that?”

  “Because there are times I feel you blame me for being gone even though you’ve said you don’t.”

  She started to protest his words, then realized he was right. In her mind she knew he’d had no control over what had happened to him in the Amazon, but in her heart she had blamed—still blamed—him. “I have. I’m the one who is sorry. I was wrong.”

  “But sometimes it’s hard to change how you feel even when you know it’s not right.”

  Tears close to the surface clogged her throat. “I’m trying.”

  He move
d closer and cradled her face. “And I’m not making it easier for you.”

  “I could say the same to you.” She leaned into his touch, needing the comfort he offered. Being with Tanya had brought back such painful memories of when she’d dealt with Dane’s “death.”

  Standing on Tanya’s porch, Dane bent forward, brushing his mouth over Zoey’s, once, twice. Suddenly he drew her into his tight embrace and deepened the kiss, reaching into her heart and melting some of her defenses.

  * * *

  The hour was late, with one lone lamp on in the den next to Dane’s sleeper sofa. The silence of the house should be a balm, but Dane strained to hear any sound that indicated others were near. All that greeted his ears was the patter of rain against the windowpane. A gentle washing of the earth.

  Lying open in his lap was the journal he’d been keeping since he had returned to civilization that the psychologist in Dallas had suggested he do. He couldn’t seem to get past noting Tom’s death on the page, and yet something hopeful had happened today.

  Blake had helped with the playhouse finally because his sister had begged him. He realized his son hadn’t assisted because he’d asked him to, but he would take anything he could get. He’d actually seen Blake crack a smile earlier this afternoon at Mandy’s feeble attempt to paint. The poor grass next to the playhouse was blue now instead of green.

  More importantly, Blake had said a few civil sentences to him while they had worked. Dane rested his head back on the cushion, staring at the ceiling. Okay, so they were all concerned about the soccer game they’d played today, but it was a start.

  And then Zoey and he had shared a moment on Tanya’s porch. For the first time he felt he was making progress with his wife. If only it could continue. If only he could share more than a moment with her. What was he afraid of? Losing her if he admitted his failures?

  Shutting the journal, he placed it in the table’s drawer next to the couch. He’d write extra tomorrow night. Exhausted, his muscles protesting the painting he’d done, he slid down under the covers and closed his eyes. Sleep whisked him away in minutes….

  Heat scorched his skin. Lifting his head a few inches off the ground, he saw that he was trapped. A part of the plane crushed his legs. The red of the flames and the green of the jungle surrounded him as though they would be his coffin. He tugged. Pain shot through his body. Sagging back, he stared up at the trees above. The pressure on his legs pinned him down, sweat pebbling on his face as he drew in smoke-saturated air.

  “Help!” His voice barely sounded over the noise of the fire. From deep inside he pushed forth another cry. “Help!”

  Struggling, twisting from side to side, he fought the confines of the prison that held him snared. “Help.”

  From the distance a faint voice penetrated his desperation. “Daddy! Daddy, wake up.”

  The pressure on his legs moved to his chest, pressing him down. Mandy?

  “Daddy, c’mon.”

  Small hands shook him. A finger poked his cheek. His eyes bolted open. His daughter sat draped over his chest, her gaze wide with fear, only inches from his face.

  Her bottom lip quivered. “Ya scared me.” Tears spilled from her eyes and rolled down her face.

  One tear splashed onto him. He blinked, trying to rid his mind of the last vestiges of sleep that clung to him like road tar to a new car. “Honey, don’t cry. I’m okay.”

  “Ya were yellin’ for help.”

  “Just a bad dream. Nothing for you to worry about.”

  She sniffled. “I get bad dreams sometimes. Mommy helps me when I do. She’ll make ya feel better. Do ya want me to go get her?”

  No! his mind screamed. He didn’t want to drag Zoey into the nightmares he couldn’t seem to shake. It was bad enough what she’d heard that one night; now his daughter had experienced one, too. He had to figure out what he wasn’t remembering, what was eating at him. He didn’t want to scare his daughter again.

  “Honey, I’m fine.” Dane glanced toward the window. He’d forgotten to pull the drapes, and outside dawn crept across the sky. “You’re up early.”

  Mandy hauled Mrs. Giggles around and plopped her on his chest. “I wanna play in the playhouse.”

  Dane shoved himself up onto his elbows and managed to smile at his daughter. “It should be all dry by now.”

  Clutching her doll, she jumped from the bed. “Great! C’mon.”

  Laughing, he threw off the tangle of covers and rose. Mandy had a way of pushing his fears to the background. “Can I get dressed and have some coffee first?”

  Mandy danced about. “Hurry. Hurry!”

  “Tell you what. Why don’t you go out and see if the paint is completely dry?”

  “Sure.” She flew out of the den, her shoeless feet silent on the floor.

  At a slower, more sedate pace Dane tossed on a T-shirt and sweatpants, then ambled into the kitchen to start the coffee. The back door crashed open, Pepper racing into the house ahead of his daughter.

  “It’s dry! C’mon.” Mandy hopped from one foot to the other.

  Quickly, he plugged in the coffeepot while his daughter tugged on his pants. “I’m coming.”

  When he stepped out onto the deck, he realized he was as barefooted as his daughter. The early morning chill sent a jolt of alertness through him. He turned to go back in for his tennis shoes, but Mandy kept pulling him toward the playhouse.

  At the window Mandy peered inside. A frown knitted her brow. “Daddy, there’s someone sleepin’ in my house.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “What!” Alarm zipped through Dane, thoughts of the recent break-ins alerting him to danger. Pulling Mandy away, he pressed close to the window, staring into the playhouse. Lying on the floor, his head cushioned by his arm, was Eddy O’Neal, his eyes closed in sleep. “What’s he doing here?”

  Mandy tugged on his T-shirt. “Who is he, Daddy?”

  Twisting around, Dane placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Mandy, will you go in and check to see if my coffee has finished perking? I’ll be inside in a minute. You wait in the kitchen. We’ll have some breakfast together.”

  “But, Daddy—”

  He spun Mandy toward the back door and said, “Mandy, go inside while I talk with Eddy.”

  She turned toward Dane and tilted her head. “Is he in trouble?”

  Good question. “I don’t know, hon. Now go.”

  Reluctantly Mandy trudged toward the deck, glancing back several times. Dane stood by the entrance into the playhouse and waited until his daughter had disappeared inside. Heaving a sigh, he thrust open the door and entered. The teen remained asleep, curled on the floor, his white bandage over his eye in stark contrast to his unruly long, dark hair.

  Dane squatted next to the boy and nudged him in the shoulder. Eddy flinched, his eyes snapping open. He scrambled away, his back hitting the wall. Bringing his legs up, he clasped them to his chest, his gaze riveted to Dane.

  “What are you doing here?” Dane calmly asked, for a few seconds feeling as though he were talking to a child Blake’s age rather than a sixteen-year-old.

  Eddy’s frown wiped the shocked look from his face. “I needed a place to stay. This looked as good as any.”

  “Yeah, and I believe that story about as much as your one about tripping as you got out of the truck the other night. Now are you going to be straight with me or are we going to dance around the issue until you finally tell me what’s going on?”

  Eddy shifted his gaze to the window, a question entering his eyes. “What time is it?”

  “Almost six.”

  “I’ve got to get going.” Eddy shot to his feet.

  Slowly Dane rose, blocking the teen’s escape. “Not before you tell me why you decided to spend the night in my daughter’s playhouse.”

  “Did anything happen last night?”

  Dane narrowed his gaze on the boy. “Like what?”

  He shrugged his slender shoulders. “Oh, I don’t know.”

 
“Sure you do or you wouldn’t have asked. What’s going on?” Dane pronounced each word of the question slowly.

  “I—I overheard someone talking about making you pay for telling the police about them speeding.” Eddy kept his gaze trained on the window to the left of Dane.

  “Would this someone be Clark Norton?”

  The teenager nodded.

  “What was Clark planning?”

  Another shrug.

  “Eddy, is Clark behind these break-ins? Are you involved?”

  “No!” The teen’s attention swung around to Dane. “I don’t steal. I don’t know what Clark and his friends do. They were just angry that the police chief came to visit them today, I mean yesterday.”

  “Why were you here? Did you think you could stop them?”

  Eddy’s head dropped. “I was gonna try,” he mumbled, his look boring a hole in the floor. “But it started raining and I got sleepy. Nothin’ happened?” He lifted his gaze to Dane.

  “No, at least I don’t think so.” Dane reached for the teen, clasping his shoulder. “C’mon in and have some breakfast with Mandy and me before you head home.” Looking at the boy’s slim body, Dane wondered how good the teenager’s diet was. With no mother and a father who was drinking, he feared that Eddy had to look out for himself a lot of the time. He knew what that was like.

  “I should—”

  “Please.”

  “Okay.” Eddy shuffled out of the playhouse and then followed Dane toward the house.

  When Dane opened the back door, he found Mandy standing on the stool at the stove helping Zoey prepare some pancakes. Zoey glanced at them. Mandy peered around her mother to get a look at the teenager.

  “This is Eddy, Mandy.”

  His daughter grinned, hopped down from the stool and came over to them. “How’d ya like my playhouse? Daddy built it for me.”

  “Nice,” Eddy mumbled, not looking at Zoey.

  “I’ve invited Eddy to have breakfast with us.” Dane walked to his wife, seeing the confusion in her eyes. “Can I help with anything?” He leaned close and kissed her on the cheek, whispering, “I’ll explain later.”

  She masked her questions and said, “You set the table and pour the orange juice. The pancakes are almost done.”