Shadows and Dreams (Dream Series Book 2)

by Braxton Hicks

  Karla nodded for me to continue, her pen poised above the lined notebook she'd been using to take notes during our sessions. Her reading glasses were perched low on her nose. She looked like she was pushing forty. Perhaps the idea of bifocals was disdainful to her. I could tell she wore contacts. I continued with my memory, as she requested.

  “I was on the swing set in my backyard. I was swinging really high on one of the swings by myself. I felt the swing set start to tip over. A man came out of our house and ran over to me. He grabbed the swing as it was going back up. He stilled the swing and lifted me from it. He placed me down beside him and told me very nicely not to go on the swing any more until the swing set had been anchored down into the ground.”

  Karla was writing furiously in her notebook. I gave her time to catch up before going on, noticing that when she looked back up at me her contacts were colored. Her eyes were blue today, matching her two-piece blue suit. I recalled last week her eyes were a dark chocolate brown matching the dark brown blazer she'd worn with her tan-colored slacks.

  “I’m not sure who the man was that day,” I remarked, answering the question I was sure she was ready to ask. “All I know was that he wasn’t like a boyfriend to my mom or anything.”

  “Why are you certain of that?”

  “He wasn’t her type, for one thing. He was in a suit and tie. And they didn’t hold hands or kiss or anything like any of the boyfriends I'd managed to glimpse after that over the years. Also, I could tell that she really didn’t like him. No, that’s wrong,” I corrected myself. “She really hated him, as far as I could tell.”

  “Why would you say that?” Karla asked her brow furrowed in her attempt to understand how a child of perhaps four years old could read those kinds of adult emotions.

  “I guess it's because I recall seeing him a couple of times after that. I remember an argument she had with him a year or so after that.”

  “Tell me about the argument, Tylar.”

  “I don’t know when it happened, exactly. It was definitely after the incident with the swing set. My mom had given the swing set away. She never did have it anchored into the ground.”

  I paused briefly to make the memory crisper. “She'd been pissed at me after that. I suppose she blamed me for swinging on it too high. Anyway, the next time that I saw that same man, I was in school.”

  The memory became more detailed in my mind. It put a timeframe into perspective. I was in kindergarten; that’s right, it was kindergarten.

  “I was in kindergarten,” I confirmed out loud. “I know that because the elementary school that I'd gone to had a Halloween festival. It was the first time that I'd gone to it. I would have been five years old at the time. They held it on a weekend evening, either Friday or Saturday. It must've been Saturday because it was my mom’s ‘date night.’ She didn’t want to take me.”

  “Date night?” Karla questioned.

  Here we go…

  “Yes. Over the years, my mom always had a date night on Saturdays. That's when she'd entertain men. As I got older, she wanted me out of the house on that night.”

  There it was…pure and simple. I'd had to explain ‘date night’ so many times over the past year or so that I'd learned a condensed version of an explanation. Karla nodded for me to continue. “Anyway, I'd dressed up in a little princess outfit for Halloween. My mom said that I could go ahead and walk up to the Halloween festival at school as long as I walked with the neighbor family that was going. My mom hadn’t really cleared it with the neighbor family that I needed to walk up and back with them. They just sort of thought that I'd tagged along on their way up to the school.”

  Karla was taking notes and nodded for me to continue.

  “Once I got to the school, I just sort of found other kids there that I knew from my kindergarten class. I got separated from the neighbors. I don’t even remember their names."

  "The next thing I remember is the school janitor shutting the lights off in the gymnasium; I was still wandering around looking for my neighbors to walk back home with. The janitor was a really nice man. He saw that I'd started crying and asked me where my parents were. I told him my story. He phoned the police.”

  I teared up as I recalled how frightened I'd been all alone like that, wandering around the school. “I was taken away by the police to the police station. I remember they gave me candy and were being really, really nice to me. Then some lady showed up there and took me to a family’s house where I spent a few nights. I kept asking for my mother. They told me that I'd see her soon. I didn’t see my mother for several days. When I did see her, that same man with the suit was there with her to take me back home. Mom sent me to my room. They argued downstairs.”

  I shivered as I recalled the loud voices downstairs. "The man was yelling; he was one person who actually scared my mom. He told her she'd better get her shit together or she could consider the golden goose dead. I was never sure what he'd meant by that. All I know was, after he left, my mom didn’t have any more boyfriends for a long, long time.”

  I looked over at Karla as she finished up her note-taking. For whatever reason, what I'd shared with her seemed to have rendered her usually unemotional expression null and void. She looked over at me and her expression appeared to be that of concern. I wasn’t sure why. Nothing bad had happened to me as a result of my mother’s neglect.

  “Tylar,” she said, “between now and our next appointment, I'd like for you to continue to relax and focus on other memories you have similar to what you've shared with me today. These are very valuable tools in ensuring that we're dealing productively with any issues from your past that could continue to impact the present.”

  I nodded, not entirely certain to what degree she felt my past was important to the present. I trusted Karla though, so I'd do whatever she deemed necessary. I made my next appointment and headed home to my family.

  I called Gina from my cell phone on the way home to see how she was feeling. We'd talked regularly since her break with Ian. She'd been up in Hoboken with her mom for the past several weeks putting some distance between her and Ian. They were proceeding with their divorce. Trey had recommended an attorney from his practice who specialized in domestic cases. The biggest thing was how their business would be split.

  She answered her cell on the second ring. “What’s up, girlfriend?” she asked sounding more chipper than usual.

  “Not much. Just got done with my shrink; I wanted to check in with you to see how you've been feeling.”

  “It’s all good, Ty,” she said. “I've come to terms with the fact that my marriage is over, but hey, I’m 30 years old, so it isn’t exactly the end of the world. Ian and I still have to come to terms with the division of property, so once Jesse crunches the numbers, we'll be good to make a proposal.”

  “Jesse?” I asked, “Who's that?”

  “Only the best freaking divorce lawyer in Atlanta, girlfriend. I’m so glad the Hot Nazi turned me on to him; pretty sweet on the eyes, too.”

  “Gina,” I warned, “Don’t rush into anything. You’re vulnerable right now, remember? What’s Ian doing these days?”

  “Who gives a fuck!” she screeched. “I don’t give a damn! I hear he’s moved in with Shelly; what-the-fuck-ever!”

  She was still hurt, as she'd every right to be. I was glad when she changed the subject. “How are things going with you?” she asked.

  “Things have gotten much, much better,” I answered honestly. "I just don’t ever want Susan to leave.”

  “You’ve got to be shitting me,” she said. “I’d have murdered Ian’s mom by now. She was such a bloody control freak.”

  “It’s just not like that with Susan,” I replied. “She's almost like a mother to me. I don’t know how I'd have done it these past few weeks without her. Do you know our new home will be ready soon?"

  "No shit? When?"

  "Right after the new year."

  "I can hardly wait to see it!"

  "When are you c
oming back home?” I asked her.

  “Soon, I promise. This is just one of those times I need my mother, you know?”

  Actually, I didn’t. I was unfamiliar with how that might feel. I hoped when the day came for Preston, I would be the kind of mother she could come to for healing after heartbreak. Of course, I'd much prefer that no one would ever break her heart. Trey would likely go ballistic and kill the responsible party if that ever happened.

  “But hey, I also need my very best friend, too and I miss her,” Gina said bringing me back to the conversation.

  I smiled into the phone telling her we'd talk soon. I pulled my car into the parking lot of Edgewood Convalescence Center. Jean had been moved over to Edgewood from the hospital about a week ago. She was here for rehabilitation. Thankfully, she'd regained consciousness with no permanent brain damage. She was at Edgewood for physical therapy for the next two months.

  Jean brightened as I entered her room. She was sitting up in a chair, looking at a magazine that I'd brought her a few days before, when I'd visited.

  “Tylar,” she greeted me with a smile, “you're a welcome site today. How's my little one doing?”

  “She's heavier than two sacks of potatoes,” I laughed. “You better be working double time with your physical therapist if you expect to be able to lift her when you get out.”

  “I think my therapist might have been a Nazi in his previous life,” she moaned. “No worries, Tylar, he won’t let me be a slacker, that's for sure.”

  Trey and I had discussed having Jean as live-in help once we moved into our new large home. I hadn’t said anything to Jean just yet, as I wanted to see how she progressed with her therapy. There would be a lot of steps and high ceilings to contend with in our new home. I would start back at the firm the following week to fill in for Leah until just before Christmas. Susan would be watching Preston while I worked, for as long as Trey and I needed her.

  “Is Grandma being good to little Preston?” Jean asked.

  “Spoiling her rotten,” I laughed.

  “Can’t spoil a baby, Tylar,” Jean replied. “You can spoil your appetite or spoil a surprise, but you just can’t spoil a baby.”

  “If you say so, Jean,” I said, smiling at her. We chatted a little while longer and then her ‘born again Nazi’ came into her room to take her down for her hydrotherapy, which I could only guess, involved water.

  That evening at dinner, Susan announced that she was needed back in Bristol in two weeks. Clive was to undergo bypass surgery and she'd need to be there to help him during recovery. Trey and I both dropped our forks at her announcement.

  “Mom,” Trey said, clearly startled, “What the hell happened? Why am I just finding out about this?”

  “Because I just found out about it this afternoon. It seems your father chose to keep me out of the loop until he knew with certainty what the official diagnosis and treatment option was to be. I was just as clueless.”

  “Did he have a heart attack?” I asked, stunned by the news.

  “No, no—nothing like that thankfully,” she replied. “He's just been feeling tired over the past couple of months and lacked his usual energy. He didn’t want to worry anyone so he went to his doctor who then referred him to a cardiologist. He has some blockage which can be surgically corrected with a bypass. He claims it's routine.”

  I didn’t say anything, but it seemed to me that anytime there was a problem with someone’s ticker that needed fixing, it hardly seemed routine.

  “Tylar,” Susan said, glancing over at me, “I intend to stay and help you find someone to watch Preston after I leave. I took the liberty of calling a couple of agencies today. They'll be sending a few candidates over this week. I know you start back working on Monday, but if you trust me to do the interviewing…”

  “Whoa, whoa,” I interrupted, causing Trey to look over at me quickly. “As far as I'm concerned Susan, your place is with Clive. I don’t want you worrying yourself one little bit about Preston. I'll be here to take care of her and that’s that.”

  “What about going back to the firm?” Susan asked.

  “As far as I’m concerned, the firm can call an agency to get temporary help. I need to stay here with Preston since you need to be with Clive.”

  “Tylar,” Trey interrupted softly, “you and I will discuss this later.”

  He turned his attention back to his mother, pummeling her with questions about Clive in his attorney style. He wanted to make sure that there was nothing being held back about his father’s condition. I got that. But if he thought for one second I was going to leave my baby to the care of someone other than family right now, he was sorely mistaken. As we readied ourselves for bed that evening, Trey pulled me down beside him on the bed.

  “Tylar, I know that you have some trepidation about hiring someone to watch the baby after Mom leaves, but please, hear me out.”

  I looked over at him as he raked his hand absently through his hair and sighed.

  “The thing is, our lives have improved so much because of the treatment you've been getting for your PPD; the fact that Mom's been here makes it difficult to know if she's been part of the cure, I guess. I need to know that you're okay, no matter what. Do you understand?”

  I wasn’t sure that I did understand. “I’m not sure,” I answered honestly.

  He took my hand in his, massaging it gently, raising it to his face and brushing his lips against it. “I mean I need to know that you've shed the fear and anxiety of being away from the baby when it's not me or Mom watching her; that your paranoia's gone,” he said simply. “You’re right; the firm could easily call an agency and get a temp in to train to cover for Leah. That's really not the point, though.”

  “What is the point?” I asked studying his face.

  “The point is to know that you can function in a world where your security and peace of mind cannot always be guaranteed, I guess. I need to know that if something happened to me, that you would be okay to go on. I need to know that you can face any fears, real or imagined with something other than withdrawal and escape.”

  It was in that moment that I got it. Trey was right. I'd changed after the baby was born. I wasn't the girl who had set out on her own to make a nest for her baby, asking for no one’s help. I wasn't the same girl who had defied Trey’s orders and set about to win a feature race setting the best time in the series on a long-shot quarter horse named Jezebel. I wasn't the same girl who had kicked the be-Jesus out of Charlie at the age of thirteen, and then again at the age of twenty-one when he attempted to rape me.

  I recalled a conversation that I'd had the previous year with Mark. He'd told me something to the effect that a man doesn’t necessarily want a woman to change into something that she wasn't; even though it might mean a rocky road at times for them it would still be a road well-traveled together. Right now, Trey needed the assurance that I was still that girl.

  “Trey,” I said softly, “I can’t say with absolute certainty that I won’t worry about Preston when she's out of my sight, but I can say that I'll do this thing for you because I know that it's important and I understand why it's important to you.”

  "That's why I love you," he said softly, pulling me against him.

  Chapter 9

  I was dressed in my new black suit peering at myself in the full-size mirror in Trey’s closet. I'd purchased new heels to go with it. I had dark nylon thigh-high stockings on with my three-inch pumps. I perched my leg up on the footstool in the dressing room to smooth the nylons up, readjusting the lacy band at the top of my thigh. Trey came out of the bathroom, having skipped his morning ritual of getting up earlier and going to the gym and showering and dressing there. He stopped short when he saw me; a slow grin crossed his face.

  “Baby, you look awesome,” he said, closing the distance between us. I smiled up at him as he closed in on me, grazing my thigh with his fingertips, pulling me up against him firmly. I blushed, thinking about what had transpired the previous night. Trey
and I had been making love every night for the past several; last night had been especially delicious.

  He lowered his head to mine, his lips kissing mine warmly and seductively. He moaned reflecting my sentiments exactly. I yearned for him to be inside of me once again, remembering how hot it had been the previous night. I'd worried that Susan might have heard our lovemaking, being that we were a bit louder than usual.

  “I love you, baby,” he said softly. “How about helping me with my tie?”

  “Certainly, Mr. Sinclair,” I answered in a coquettish manner, reaching out to start tying his tie. Trey smiled down at me, thoroughly happy that I was returning to the workforce, if only for a few weeks. I finished his tie, brushing some lint off of his suit jacket, totally mesmerized at his awesome build and great looks.

  “You look great, honey,” I breathed, raising my face back up to meet his warm lips one more time before we headed out of our suite. I could hear Susan in the kitchen and the smell of freshly brewed coffee greeted us as we entered the living room.

  Preston was in her mesh baby playpen already dressed in her pink bib overalls with a white cotton turtleneck underneath. Susan had pulled the baby’s hair up into a thin wispy ponytail on top of her head.

  She looked like a non-cartoon version of Pebbles Flintstone with that cute little sprout of hair. She was sitting up chewing on a rubber rattle when she saw us. She was teething and had taken to chewing on everything, it seemed. Preston squealed in delight at seeing Trey and I enter the room. He went over to the playpen where she was now holding her little arms up so that he'd lift her up. He didn’t hesitate in doing so, holding her close and kissing her forehead.

  “Hey, Chubbers,” he greeted her with a smile, showing his dimple. She quickly returned the favor presenting her dimple to him. She was still clutching her rubber rattle and offered it to her daddy.

  “I don’t want that,” he teased. “It’s got Preston-slobber all over it. Yucky!” She giggled with delight as he continued talking to her as we entered the kitchen. Susan had made coffee and poured juice for both of us. She was at the stove scrambling up some eggs with cheese the way Trey liked them.