“Yes, I did. It was all quiet.”
They sat in silence for a few blocks.
“How is your book coming?” she asked.
“Very well. My agent is excited about it, and of course, I am, too.”
They reached his house, got out of the car, and went inside.
“I’ve got lunch nearly ready—would you like some iced tea?” Michael asked.
“Sounds good.”
Erin looked around while he went into the kitchen. The weapons on his walls were fascinating, but she walked to the piano to look at his sheet music. The pieces by Schubert were there, as well as a few other classical compositions. She sat down on the piano bench and played part of a melody. Arranged on top of the piano were several small photos, and she stood up to look at them more closely. One photo was of a wiry boy, maybe five years old, with dark hair. Another photo was of a younger Michael, a big grin on his face, holding the laughing little boy when he was about three. A photo of a cabin in the woods leaned beside another picture with Michael, Bruce, a tall, slim, dark-haired woman, and a younger man with lighter hair. The family resemblance was obvious.
Michael came back into the living room with two glasses of iced tea.
“Are these your brother and sister?” she asked.
He looked at the picture. “Yes, that’s Elizabeth and Sean. Elizabeth’s married and lives in Portland. She’s a couple years younger than me, then Bruce next. Sean was the youngest.”
Erin smiled. “You all look alike. I have one older sister, and we don’t look anything like each other. She lives in Spain with her husband. I don’t get to see her often.”
She picked up the photo of the boy. “Your son?”
He nodded, his eyes on the boy. “Yes, that’s Colby.” He glanced at Erin. “This was taken only a week before he died.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Again, he nodded his head. He picked up the picture of both him and his son. “Portland Zoo. Colby fell in love with elephants that day, and after that, all he wanted was toy elephants. His mother loved elephants, too, so that was fine with her.”
Michael picked up the last photo, the one of the cabin. “This is the cabin I built near Mt. Hood.”
She took the photo from him and studied it. “It looks so familiar.”
He raised his eyebrows and said, “Maybe you’ve seen it.” He started to walk back to the kitchen.
“What?” she asked.
He glanced back at her with a grin. “Let’s eat lunch.”
Michael brought the food to the dining room—a huge seafood salad, rolls and butter, and slices of cantaloupe.
“This looks wonderful,” Erin said. “You didn’t have to go to so much trouble.”
Michael sat opposite her at the large cherry-wood table, and they served themselves. They ate in silence for a few minutes. She eyed him curiously. “Do you always fix such great food?”
“Only when I want to impress someone.”
“You want to impress me?” The thought hadn’t occurred to her before.
“Of course. But more than that, I want you to be comfortable. I want you to feel free to talk to me.”
She ate another bite of salad. “I don’t know you very well.”
His eyes clouded over.
“You invited me here today because you said you might know something about my dreams.” She frowned. “But I don’t understand.”
“What don’t you understand?” His voice was quiet.
“How you could know anything about my dreams. And why you think it’s important.”
Michael helped himself to another serving of salad. “You’ve told me how your nightmares wake you. Have you ever woken with an injury or scar?”
Erin’s fork paused in midair, and she didn’t feel hungry any longer. She wasn’t sure what she should say. She was afraid he’d think she was losing her grip on reality if she said too much. She nodded her head.
“Tell me what you remember about the dream you had when you woke with a scar. That’s a good place to start.”
She frowned and looked out the window, debating what she should tell him. She looked back at him. His face looked expectant, patient, accepting, and she felt reassured. She took a deep breath and said, “I don’t remember much. I was running through a forest, searching for someone. I don’t know who. Then I was attacked by some dark …” She paused, her eyes searching. “Monsters. In my dream they hurt me. One of them stabbed me through my back—it hurt so much.”
“Do you remember anything more?”
She didn’t want to tell him she had dreamed about him. “Only a little.”
“Do you remember how you got away?”
She stood up and walked to the window, looked out at the garden. “I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Try, Erin,” Michael said.
She faced him. “I am trying.”
“So did you wake up with the scar? Right where you were pierced with a sword?”
Erin nodded her head slowly.
“Is there any possibility that you were with someone who hurt you, but you just don’t remember?” Michael asked.
She frowned as she looked at him and punched out her words. “No, I wish that were the case, but it’s ridiculous. I don’t forget what happens to me when I’m awake. I went to bed alone and woke up with bruises and a scar. Even stranger, by the end of the day the bruises were almost gone. The scar—I still have it—but I know I didn’t have any scar before I went to sleep that night.”
“Just wanted to rule out that idea.”
“I didn’t tell you it used a sword.”
He raised his eyebrows. “No, but it did, didn’t it?”
Erin felt a shiver run through her, and she took a step back. How did he know? “Yes.”
Michael got up from the table, stood beside her and gazed out the window at the garden. “When did you start having these nightmares?”
She groaned inside. “Around the time my husband, William, died. They wake me up in the middle of the night. I don’t remember much of them, but I can’t get back to sleep—they leave me shaking and shivering. Lately, though, I’m remembering more. Are you sure you want to hear about this?”
Michael nodded, a small smile on his face, and she felt easier about telling him.
“I do remember more of the dream I had that night. Please don’t think I’m crazy. The … monsters outnumbered me, and they … beat me with long poles, until one of them ran me through with a sword. I fell.” She paused and closed her eyes.
“Then what happened?” Michael whispered. He reached out his hand and grasped hers. Erin opened her eyes and studied his face as she continued.
“In my dream, you and Bruce appeared. You fought them, and you picked me up and carried me away. You took me to your cabin. And you healed me.” Her eyes strayed to the picture of his cabin at Mt. Hood, and she looked at Michael’s hand holding hers.
Michael didn’t take his eyes from her. “Do you think the dream was real?”
She looked at him like he was crazy and pulled her hand away. “What do you mean, real? Sure, it was a real dream, but dreams are, well, all in your head.”
He turned around. “The other night Bruce dreamed that he was stabbed with a knife and you helped him. He still had a scar when he woke, too.”
Erin’s mouth dropped open.
“This doesn’t make sense, Michael. You told me you might have some answers—that you might know something about these dreams. I was really hoping you would tell me something. I was hoping you could help me. But you’re just giving me more questions.”
“I’m not sure you want to hear my answers,” he said.
“Are you telling me you have answers, but you won’t tell me what they are?” She turned around and walked toward the door. “I have to get back to work.”
He crossed the room and stood in front of the door, blocking her way. “Stop, Erin. It’s not that easy. You’ve had the answers all along, and for some reaso
n you won’t let yourself see. If I tell you, you might just think I’m nuts. You might not believe me. It might not help.”
His eyes were earnest, almost pleading.
“Tell me what you think,” she said.
“I’ll just tell you this, and you can come to your own conclusions. When you dreamed I picked you up and carried you to the boat away from the shadows, I also dreamed I did that. I remember everything that happened in your dream, because I was there, too. When you dropped into the cavern to help Bagley and first met me, I dreamed that, too. I remember when you followed me to my cabin and held a knife to my throat.”
Erin backed away from him. She thought back, trying to remember those dreams. “How? How can that be?”
“It’s the way it is,” he said. He walked back into the living room and sat on the sofa.
She followed him. “Why?” she breathed.
“Fear, anger, hatred, guilt—these can become monsters inside of people. We are open to a whole different world in our dreams, and these shadows—mortifers—prey on the vulnerable. To put it simply, we help other people overcome their monsters.”
Erin sat down on the chair facing him. “We? Who? Does everyone do this?”
“No. There are many of us, but not enough.”
“That’s the answer?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She shook her head. “Then why the scar?”
“There’s a lot more to the dream world than imagination.”
“Are you saying it’s real?” she asked. This conversation was starting to seem surreal. It was frightening.
“It has its reality,” he said slowly.
She shook her head and closed her eyes.
“Most people who do what we do remember their dreams and know who they are. It doesn’t change daily life—at least not much. At least not often. I don’t know why you have such a difficult time remembering.”
What Michael was saying sounded ridiculous. They sat in silence again while she thought. If this were true, then Bruce really was injured a couple weeks back. And Michael actually had saved her life.
“Do you have any scars from your dreams?” she asked.
“Yes.”
Erin’s skin crawled as she thought about Michael’s scarred back. This couldn’t be true. She looked at him and shook her head, remembered his scent and the feel of his neck against her face. Did he remember how she had embraced him in her dreams?
She stood up. “I have to go.”
Michael looked at his watch and said, “You still have fifteen minutes. You’re running from me.”
She turned away. “I should get back.”
“Will you think about what I told you?”
She looked up at him. “It’s so strange.”
“Just think about it. I’ll take you back to work.”
They were silent in the car on the way back to the store as Erin grappled with what he had told her. He parked the car on the street in front of the store and turned to her.
“Anytime you want to talk, just give me a call,” he said. He smiled a twisted smile. “Even if it’s in the middle of the night, after a bad dream.”
“Thanks. But how do you know what you’ve told me is true? Don’t you question it?”
“I’ve lived this for years. There are many of us. You’re not alone.”
Erin’s brow knotted into a frown. “You might be crazy,” she murmured.
“That’s always possible,” Michael said. “You’d better go. Now you’re late.”
“Thank you for lunch.” She leaned over and embraced him, kissed his cheek.
He smiled. “Walk with care.”
“Et tu,” she said as she opened the door and stepped out of the car. She realized that was the second time she had said that to him. “Et tu?” Where had that come from? She walked into the store.
“Long lunch, baby?” Gary said from where he stood leaning against a counter. He grabbed her arm and pulled her into her studio, kicked the door closed, and kissed her.
Chapter 37
When he let her go, Erin stepped back and bumped into the wall. This was too sudden.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” she said.
“Obviously.” He turned away and played a few notes on the piano. “Who was with you in the car?” He faced her; his eyes looked sharp, his smile forced.
“A … friend—a local author and customer—he invited me to lunch today,” she said. She sat down at her table.
Gary rested his hands on the table and leaned toward her. “Was it a date?” he asked.
She looked him straight in the eyes. “No, it wasn’t a date. He is simply a friend.”
He held her eyes for a minute and then sat down on the piano bench. “I was a little worried there.”
Erin raised her eyebrows and said, “I could tell.” She slid out of her chair and gave him a brief kiss, then opened the door. Ed called out to her, “Erin, are you back from lunch?”
“Yes, I’m back.”
She sat down again. “What are you doing here today?”
“I had some business in Anacortes, and I thought I’d stop by and say hello. I was hoping to take you to lunch, but I guess I missed my chance.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I had known you were coming. How long can you stay? Can you come over for dinner after I’m off?”
Erin saw his face relax. “I could do that,” he said.
“I’ve got a student coming in a few minutes. You could stay here or go shopping or something until I get home. Or you could go ahead to my house, if you want.”
“I’ll meet you at your house later. I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Okay.” They stood up, and she took his hand and squeezed it. “Bye.”
He kissed her. “Mmm. You smell good.”
He went out the door to his car. She watched him from the window, and after he drove away, she collapsed into the chair. She picked up some sheet music and stared at it but didn’t even know what she was looking at. What a shock—Gary waiting in the store. He must have seen her in the car with Michael. He must have seen her kiss him. No wonder he was upset. And what about that strange lunch with Michael? She didn’t know what to think about all he had said, and she didn’t know what to think about him. He made her feel on edge. One minute he was soothing, the next he unsettled her again. What he had said about their dreams was so farfetched; did he really believe it? But if he was right, if these dreams were in some way real, then they were doubly frightening. And what other explanation could there be for her scar?
When the workday finally ended and she was on her way home, Erin took a few minutes to turn off the highway into the cemetery. She drove to William’s spot and got out of her car. She sat on the grass covering his grave and stared at the cold gray headstone. His face came into her mind, laughing, teasing, joking. A tear slid down her cheek, but she didn’t brush it away. The wind rose and blew her hair away from her face, and she closed her eyes. The face of a little boy came into her mind from the photos at lunch, Michael’s son, Colby. She could easily imagine Michael’s grief-stricken face bending over his son’s grave. She looked out over the horizon, then got back in her car and drove the rest of the way home.
Erin saw Gary’s black SUV parked in her driveway as she drove up the street toward her house. A large black sedan was parked further down the road, a little past her driveway. There were two men sitting in it, but she couldn’t see who they were.
She pulled into her driveway, bouncing over a few potholes as she made her way through the apple trees toward the house. Gary wasn’t in his car, and she didn’t see him outside. Matt and Gwen should still have been next door at Edna’s. She parked and looked around. Seeing no one, she passed through the hedge to Edna’s.
Edna opened the door. “Hi, dear,” she said. “Is everything all right?”
Erin frowned. “Aren’t Matt and Gwen here?”
“No, they went home when Gary got here. He came over, and I let the
m into the house. He said you knew he was coming.”
“I did. I was expecting him—I didn’t realize he would get the kids, though.”
Edna’s face grew concerned. “I hope it was all right for me to let him into your house like that. I just assumed …”
“It’s fine,” Erin hastened to reassure her. “Of course it’s fine. I’ll just go back home—I haven’t even been in the house yet.”
Edna breathed a sigh of relief.
Erin walked home and looked up the street at the black car. It was empty now; the men must have gotten out. She looked around but didn’t see where they had gone. Her heart beat faster and she rushed back to her house.
The front door was locked, so she got out her key and went inside, calling out, “Anybody home?”
“We’re in here,” Matt answered. Erin walked down the hall to the dining room and saw Gary, Matt, and Gwen sitting at the table playing cards. “Hi, Mom,” the kids said, looking at her expectantly.
“Hi, guys,” she said. “What a surprise.”
Gary stood up. “I hope you don’t mind me getting the kids and coming inside.” He grinned. “How was your afternoon?”
“It was good.”
He turned to the kids. “Are you guys getting hungry? Now that your mom’s home should we put the pizza in the oven?”
“Yeah!”
Gary walked into the kitchen. “I picked up a take-and-bake pizza on my way over. I hope that sounds good.” He glanced at her face, opened the oven door, and put a large pizza into the oven. “Want a glass of wine?”
“Yes, I’d love one.” Erin watched as he got a wine glass from the cabinet and poured her some red wine from a bottle on the counter.
“Gary’s teaching us how to play poker,” Gwen said. “It’s really fun—I already won a game.”
“Oh, great.” Erin laughed.
When the pizza was ready, they took it outside and ate dinner in the garden. The sun was setting, but the air was calm and not very cold. Afterward, Matt and Gwen washed the dishes while Erin and Gary walked the short trail to the beach. The tide was high and small waves lapped against the driftwood. They climbed onto the uprooted stump of a large tree that had washed ashore years before. The wood was whitened and polished smooth from the salty wind.
Viator (The Viator Chronicles Book 1) Page 21