In Your Dreams

by Gina Ardito

  Chapter 20

  Whenever Isabelle rolled over in her sleep, the damned I.V. line yanked the skin on her hand and jolted her awake. This time, though, the fine hairs on her skin prickled, along with the sudden shock of pain. A tall, shadowy figure stood over her bed. Clutching her throat, she gasped.

  “Easy, Isabelle,” the figure said in a sultry, feminine voice as dark as the room. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

  She slowly slid up into a sitting position. “You’re not?”

  “No. I’m a friend of Sean’s.”

  “A friend of Sean’s?” She peered in the darkness, but only discerned a willowy outline. Did this woman...phantom...really know Sean? Or was she an axe murderer who’d somehow climbed up the exterior stucco wall, scaled the wrought iron rail, landed on the balcony, crept into her bedroom, and now waited to slice off her victim’s head? “Are you dead, too?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Xavia.”

  “Is that with an X or a Z?”

  “X.”

  Isabelle relaxed a bit. An axe murderer wouldn’t engage in chitchat. Maybe this woman really was a friend of Sean’s. “I bet you didn’t find many personalized keychains at the dollar store when you were a teenager, huh?” Squinting, she tried to discern if any other visitors lingered nearby. Nope. Just me and someone else’s shadow. “Where is Sean? Why didn’t he come himself instead of sending you?” Flipping off the covers, she slid her legs off the bed, ready to rise. “If you guys have hurt him in some way because of me...”

  “Relax and get back into that bed before you hurt yourself,” the woman commanded. “I really am a friend, not some monster set on punishing either of you.”

  “So then, where is he? He picked a helluva time for a disappearing act, you know. I could really use his counsel these days.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m here. Sean’s been blocked from contact with you, but he wanted me to tell you—”

  “Belle?” Justin’s words came from the hall, followed by the sudden glare of the bedroom light. “Hey, sweetie, are you okay?”

  She woke up at once. Shielding her eyes with one hand on her brow, she scanned the Barbie bedroom. Nothing. No one. The shadow had disappeared when the bedroom light flicked on. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “You were shouting in your sleep. What happened?”

  “Umm...” She glanced around again. “A nightmare, I guess.”

  He sat in the chair near her I.V. machine, the apparatus that allowed her to stay in Justin’s house rather than the hospital. According to her obstetrician, Dr. Lindsey, her extreme morning sickness could eventually lead to dehydration. Dehydration would produce chemicals in her body that were fatal for the baby. Only continual fluid replenishment kept them both safe.

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  “No.” Justin knew all of Dr. Lindsey’s instructions. But he had no idea Dr. Regalbuto had urged her to terminate the pregnancy because the tumor in her brain had not responded as well to the gamma knife treatment as originally thought.

  “I heard you calling out for Sean in your sleep.”

  Oh. Right. That’s what Justin wanted to talk about. Not her medical condition.

  “And it’s not the first time,” he added as he reached to pat her hand. “I know you miss him. You might feel better if you talk about him. Where’d you meet?”

  Well, this should be entertaining for a while. “Actually,” she said with a nostalgic smile, “we met right around here.” Literally.

  “In Malibu? Wow. How cool. How long did you know him?”

  “Not long.”

  “How long?” He sucked in a breath and covered his mouth with his hand—a second too late. “You weren’t cheating on Carlo with Sean, were you?”

  “No! Of course not.”

  “So, what? You met this guy and crawled into bed with him the very same day?” Shaking his head, he tsked. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for love at first sight, but sex at first sight can be dangerous, chickie.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” she retorted.

  “No? Then what was it like?”

  How could she possibly explain without sounding like she’d gone ‘round the bend? “Forget it,” she grumbled and slid beneath the blankets again. “You’d never understand.”

  “Me? Honey, I understand you like nobody else. I know all your secrets—or, at least, I thought I did until you kept this Sean guy from me. But, if you really don’t trust me...”

  Her impatience revolted, and she blurted, “He’s dead, Justin! He’s been dead since I was a kid.”

  Whoops.

  She would’ve liked to take back the confession, but Justin’s eyes widened with interest, and he sat up, fully engaged.

  “Wait. What exactly are you saying?” He placed a hand on her forehead. “Are you running a fever?”

  On a sigh, she propped up her pillow and pulled herself against it to face him. “I’m perfectly lucid, binky. I told you. There’s no way you could possibly understand.”

  He frowned. “Try me.”

  “I just did.”

  “Try again.”

  Did she dare? God knew, she’d appreciate talking to somebody living about her relationships with the dead. “If I try again, you have to promise to listen to the whole story. You can’t make fun or ask me if I’m crazy. And no interrupting.”

  “When did you join the CIA?”

  Umbrage brewed between them. “You know what? Forget it. Forget I said anything. Goodnight. Turn off the light on your way out.”

  “Oh, come on, Belle. Don’t be like that. I was kidding.”

  “Too late.”

  He jerked the covers from her, flooding her with instant cold from the air conditioning, which gained him a gasp as well as her undivided attention. “I swear on the life of your child, I’ll behave.”

  She studied him with a jaundiced eye. Did she dare? Maybe. She certainly couldn’t ask for a more sincere vow. “Okay then.” At first, the story came out in halting tones. “I met Sean...after I tried to...the night you brought me here from the hospital after...”

  “After you tried to kill yourself,” Justin supplied.

  She glared at him. “That’s strike one.”

  “Oh, come on! That’s not fair.” His chipmunk cheeks flushed pink. “You seemed reluctant to say it. I just wanted us to get past that awkward moment.”

  “Do you wanna hear this or not?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then be quiet and let me tell you.”

  He mimed a zipper across his lips.

  “Where was I? Don’t!” She held up a hand. “Don’t answer that. I know exactly where I was.” She paused, waiting for her brain to catch up before she spoke again. “Sean came to me in my dream that night.”

  True to his word, Justin kept his mouth closed, though she could tell by the tic in his jaw, he struggled to stay silent.

  “It wasn’t your normal dream. I mean, one minute, I was asleep in this bed and the next, I was sitting on the boardwalk with this incredible guy seated next to me. He wanted me to promise I wouldn’t try to kill myself again. You see, he killed himself in 1982 and now his job is to keep other people from making his mistake.”

  Never a stellar actor, he tried to play banal, but wound up looking horrified instead. “Mmm-hmm...”

  “I know this sounds ludicrous, but bear with me, okay?”

  He nodded.

  She told him all of it: Sean’s suicide, their first meeting, their conversations, their dinner date, the trip to the Maldives, all the routine visits where he’d pop in to check on her then pop out again, and included the intervention she staged with the poor teenager in Ohio.

  “I saved that girl’s life, Justin,” she exclaimed. “That’s when I realized Sean was right. Every one of us is on this earth for a purpose. And playing Bethany Shippe wasn’t mine. Most of us get plenty of years to figure out why we’re here. I thought I was gonna run out of time be
fore I discovered mine. And then I agreed to have that gamma knife thingy.”

  “Mmm-hmm...?”

  “You remember how I kept calling for Sean that day?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, he showed up. He knew I was scared so he went into the machine with me. Did you know that ghosts are really energy? And apparently, when a ghost goes through any kind of radiation, it disperses his energy in a very...” She glanced down at her belly. “...creative way.” She grinned up at Justin, whose expression had only grown more distressed as the tale continued.

  The room was silent, and Isabelle’s chest tightened with anticipation the longer she waited for Justin’s reaction. When her heart pounded and cold shivers racked her and he still hadn’t replied, she slapped the mattress. “Dammit, Justin, say something.”

  He rose from the chair, leaned over the bed, and kissed her forehead. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.” Without another word, he left the room, turning off the light before closing the door behind him.

  ~~~~

  When Xavia lifted her gaze from the clipboard and sat back to rub her neck, Sean craned to see over her shoulder. “What? What happened? Why’d you stop?”

  “She woke up,” Xavia replied.

  “So? You have to talk to her. Tell her she can’t go through with the pregnancy. Tell her what will happen to her if she dies.”

  “I will, but I can’t right now. I can only communicate with her when she’s asleep.”

  Desperation ratcheted up his fears for Isabelle, and he gripped the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles whitened. “Xavia, she can’t wind up here. She deserves better than this place.”

  “I’m doing the best I can, okay? As soon as she falls asleep again, I’ll talk to her, I promise.”

  “And how much time will have passed on Earth by then? What if she’s too far along to stop the pregnancy when you finally get her to see reason? For God’s sake, she might already be dead and processed. For all we know, she was just assigned as Contel’s new trainee in bounty hunting. Or Sherman’s newest assistant.”

  Xavia shook her head. “Not possible. I would have been notified if she’d already terminated.”

  “Terminated?!” He gave a mirthless chuckle. “Isn’t that nice? Such a sanitary phrase for such an ugly event. Dammit, Xavia, do something. Something with purpose, for shit’s sake!”

  “Sean, I’m doing the best I can here,” she repeated with the slow cadence of someone speaking to a lunatic. “But there are some things I can’t control.”

  The calmer her tone, the more frantic he became. Raking his fingers across his scalp, he paced. “I need to see Verity then. Convince her to let me communicate with Isabelle. She’s the only one who can make this happen.”

  “Jeezus, Sean, get a fucking grip already,” Xavia snarled. “Isabelle is no longer your responsibility. You have other cases that need your attention. High time you learned that, in this department, we win some, we lose some.”

  He came to a dead stop. “I won’t lose her. I can’t.”

  “She’s just another case.”

  “No, she’s not. Not to me.”

  “And that’s part of the problem. I warned Sherman this might happen. You can’t let yourself get too emotionally involved in your cases. It’ll eat you up and spit you out every time you lose one.” Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Believe me, I know.”

  “I know you do,” he said, curling his fingers inside her palm. “But Isabelle is different. She’s important to me. Please, Xavia? Please help me save her life.”

  “You really should just let her go.” Sensing his argument, she pulled her hand from his and raised it in his face. “I’ll do what I can, but ultimately, the decision is hers. Like it was yours and it was mine.”

  “And if you knew then what you know now, would you have still dragged that razor down your wrist?”

  She didn’t reply immediately. He knew why. As thrilled as she was to have spent time with Contel, Contel was not Noah. Right now, she had to be thinking about all the missed lifetimes, all the tears she’d shed over losing her son forever.

  Time to give her a good verbal push off the ledge. “Forever’s a long time, Xavia,” he murmured.

  Surrender dulled the sheen in her eyes. “Go,” she said on a sigh. “But keep me posted where you are and what you’re up to.”

  “Thank you,” he exclaimed. Lifting her hand, he kissed the knuckles one at a time. “Thank you.” Kiss. “Thank you.” Kiss. “A thousand times, thank you.”

  She yanked her hand away and waved him off, the gold and silver bangles on her wrist creating a musical interlude. “Get outta here. But be careful. Remember the Chasm.”

  “Chasm-schmasm. I’m off to save Isabelle. Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck.”

  With her words still hanging in the air between them, he spun into vaporous form and aimed for Samantha’s desk at the Welcome Level in Reception.

  “I was told to tell you no.” Samantha’s tired voice reached him before he landed. She sat at her desk, arms folded over her chest, a frown marring her very kissable pink lips.

  “Which puts us at an impasse,” he said with a slick smile. “Because I don’t intend to take no for an answer.”

  “This time, you’ll have to,” a male baritone said from behind him. “Maybe it’ll carry more weight if I say it. No.”

  Sean stiffened, but refused to face the wizened gnome. “Come on, Sherman. That’s not very polite.”

  “Oh? All right. Try this one on. Sorry. No.”

  Resentment combined with desperation, and Sean whirled to stare down the skinny little man. “I’m not leaving without access to Isabelle. I don’t care how you get it. You can put me in front of Verity, or you can perform whatever magic the Board allows you. Give me time with Isabelle so I can save her from making a big mistake.”

  Sherman glanced around, his eyes squirrely. “Let’s not do this here,” he replied. “Come into my office.”

  “Fine.” He followed Sherman past the never-ending queue of newcomers to the carved marble archway that indicated the barrier between the general area and the more sacrosanct inner circle. As they approached the entrance to Sherman’s office, the double doors flipped open on a wisp of air. The cavernous room maintained a theme of pure heaven with pristine white walls and swaths of white silk draped to provide a cloudlike atmosphere. Overhead, a perfect replica of a sunny summer’s day allowed newcomers to feel closer to their ideal vision of the Afterlife as a kingdom in the sky. Gold leather club chairs sat catty-corner to the enormous white marble desk. What a nod to magnificence for such a wee man.

  As the doors snicked closed again, Sherman indicated the club chairs. “Have a seat.” In direct contrast to his directive, he stood by the door, shifting from one foot to the other, wavering.

  Under normal circumstances, Sean would have pressed his advantage, perching himself on the edge of the desk—a visual slap to Sherman’s delusions of grandeur. For Isabelle’s sake, though, he opted for one of the twin chairs and donned his best behavior. “Give me a chance, one chance, to talk to her. Please. I’ll do whatever it takes to save her life, Sherman.”

  “It seems to me she’s already opted to save someone else’s life instead,” Sherman replied.

  “A life that will end hers,” he fired back. “And send her here.”

  The Elders’ liaison strode forward and settled in the cushy chair behind his desk. “Either way, she’ll wind up here. All that remains to be seen is the amount of time she’ll reside in this realm. Regardless of when she chooses to arrive, she won’t move forward right away.”

  “Why not? If she doesn’t kill herself, she has no reason to spend time here.”

  Sherman said nothing, but his eyes, solemn and sorrowful, told another tale.

  Aside from suicide, what other great sin could Isabelle commit to wind up punished by serving the Afterlife and its Board?

  Only one idea came to mind.

  “Do
n’t tell me the Board feels the need to concern itself with Earth’s morality issues. What happened to the concept of free will? Or is that a myth like heaven, hell, and all the rest?”

  “Oh, free will exists,” Sherman said. “It’s one of mankind’s greatest gifts. Do you think Isabelle isn’t making this choice, based on free will? Do you know of someone who has pressured her to make the decision to carry her child to term? Or is pressuring her to end the pregnancy to save her life?”

  Embarrassment crept into his psyche, and he dipped his head. “No. Not really.”

  “In life, Sean, we don’t always get to choose between chocolate and vanilla. Sometimes, neither choice presented to us is pleasant. Those are the decisions that affirm a person’s character. Isabelle has opted to give life to the child you two created.”

  The child you two created. Sean inhaled a shuddering breath. “It’s true then. I’m the father of Isabelle’s baby?” At Sherman’s curt nod, he exhaled—just as shakily. “How is that possible?”

  Sherman’s lips quirked in an enigmatic smile. “The Board does not only deal in death, my friend.”

  An icy finger of suspicion zipped up his spine. “I’m guessing the Board wouldn’t be thrilled at Isabelle’s refusal of such a gift.”

  “And I’m guessing you won’t believe me, but this isn’t some kind of test the Board cooked up to punish Isabelle. There is no wrong answer for her. Her decision is solely hers to make. And by choosing to keep the baby, she will give a lifetime of happiness to her friends. Had she decided to discontinue the pregnancy, she would have remained on her own life path without condemnation or judgment. That is the true meaning of free will.”

  “But the Board always knew she’d keep the baby, right?”

  He clasped his hands on his desk’s sleek marble surface. “What has not yet occurred is always subject to change. But, based on what the Board knew of her personality and her past, this…” He paused, gazed up at the ceiling’s trompe l’oeil sky, as if seeking enlightenment from above. Or, at least, a term he might use that wouldn’t send Sean flying into a rage. “…this ending…was anticipated.”

  Ending. Isabelle’s ending. “How soon?” He couldn’t finish the thought, couldn’t bear to utter the phrase aloud any more than Sherman could. Not that it mattered. They both knew they were discussing Isabelle’s death.