Where Dreams Begin

by Phoebe Conn

Catherine hadn’t seen Rafael since his run-in with the police, but his orange hair was still spiked, and he looked none the worse, or better, for the experience. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if the police had returned his knife. Because she would want a weapon if she were ever forced to live on the street, she hoped his was tucked away safely in his backpack.

  A few minutes later, Polly came weaving out of the bathroom, but she was still pale. “I’ll wait for you guys on the steps,” she murmured softly. “Come get me when you go to look for clothes.”

  “Will do,” Nick assured her. He leaned over to gauge the damage to his knees. “Are there any of those big, wide Band-Aids in the first-aid kit?”

  “Yes, just let me sponge off the last of the dirt, then I’ll apply a layer of antibiotic cream and cover it with the largest bandage. As for your hands, maybe the cream and a gauze wrapping would be best.”

  Nick flopped back and drew in a deep breath. “It was such a nice day too. I was just cruising along and then, wham. That’s the way life is though, isn’t it?”

  “It sure is,” Catherine agreed, but she was very sorry he was so cynical at such a young age. It took her a few more minutes to complete what treatment she could offer, and then she removed the disposable rubber gloves. “Wait here for Pam,” she suggested.

  “Don’t worry. I’m trying hard not to move,” Nick promised and Rafael laughed as though greatly amused by his friend’s sense of humor.

  Catherine tossed the gloves into the trash then went into the bathroom. When she discovered Nick’s bloody handprint on her sweater, she considered changing into the spare clothes she kept in her car for emergencies. This certainly looked like a good day to use them, but she hated to keep Luke waiting and decided against it for the moment.

  She rapped lightly on his door and waited for his call to enter. She found him standing by the window, arms braced against the sill, his head down in a dejected pose that didn’t invite conversation. It upset her not to know if he was angry with her, or frightened by what had happened to Nick. She’d learned not to second-guess him and waited patiently for him to speak.

  Before the wait grew uncomfortably long, Luke drew in a deep breath and straightened up. “I wasn’t gone for more than thirty minutes. I walked through the door thinking about a mural, but blood sure has a way of reordering priorities. Frankly, I don’t know which is worse, that Nick was struck by a car on his way here, or that you’re covered with his blood.”

  He sounded furiously angry, but his caustic rebuke wasn’t mirrored in his eyes. He had chosen sarcasm over the truth, but Catherine could see he was frightened for her. He’d lost everyone he loved, and he had to be terrified some tragedy would befall her as well. That she couldn’t promise that it wouldn’t made her ache for him.

  “I saw the film on blood-borne pathogens years ago, and I wore a pair of the rubber gloves kept in the office first-aid kit. So you see, I avoided any needless risk.”

  “That’s not much comfort,” Luke complained, his tone still bitter.

  “Perhaps not, but it’s all I have to offer. You know what Nick told me when he first got here? He said he’d refused help from the woman who’d struck him because he just wanted to get home. That’s how he thinks of Lost Angel, and you deserve the credit. Just as you’d hoped, the kids feel safe here.”

  “But none of them truly is safe,” Luke countered darkly.

  “Sometimes the belief is enough,” she offered. “Often it’s all we have.” When he clenched his jaw rather than voice his disgust, she took another tack. “Perhaps it’s time I told you what happened to Sam.”

  Taken aback, Luke frowned slightly, then gestured toward a chair. “If you feel you must.”

  She sat, and rather than take the chair behind his desk, Luke dropped into the one at her side. His gaze, while still guarded, held a sparkle of curiosity now, which she considered a great improvement. She folded her hands in her lap, but it was an effort not to wring them pathetically.

  “We were scheduled to leave on a trip to Scandinavia the next day, and Sam went into his office to clear up some last minute detail on one of his cases. He thought he wouldn’t be gone long, and then we planned to finish packing, eat an early supper, and be ready to fly out of LAX first thing the next morning.

  “He’d been gone about an hour when I got a frantic call from one of his partners. He told me Sam had been rushed to Huntington Memorial Hospital, and that I should get there just as quickly as I could.

  “I was at the hospital within ten minutes, but it was too late. Sam had suffered a massive coronary, and the paramedics had been unable to revive him. The doctors at Huntington had worked on him too, but he was gone.

  “He’d always been so healthy, and it’d been several years since he’d been to his doctor for a physical. A simple stress test would have revealed the problem and saved his life, but he’d never had one. I blamed myself for not taking better care of him.”

  A painful lump closed her throat, and she coughed to clear it. “The hospital staff was wonderful and let me sit with Sam for as long as I needed.”

  That precious hour belonged solely to her and Sam, and she would never share the details with anyone. “You will probably find this impossible to believe, but I’m grateful that if Sam had to die, he’d died here, where I’d be surrounded by our friends rather than a day later in Copenhagen where I’d have had to rely on strangers to help me fly his body home in a coffin.

  “That’s the real difference between us, Luke. I can find a glimmer of hope in a puddle of ink, while all you’d see is the spreading blackness.”

  Luke was silent for a long moment, but rather than argue, he reached for her hand and ran his fingertip across her blackened nail. “What happened here?”

  She told him. “It was stupid, like most accidents are.”

  “Did it happen right before or just after you removed your wedding ring?”

  She wasn’t surprised he’d noticed the gold band was gone, but she didn’t like where his question was leading. “After, but that’s merely a coincidence I’m sure.”

  Luke drew her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips tenderly. “No, it wasn’t. Freud believed there are no accidents, and most of the time I agree.”

  His touch sent a shiver of desire clear to her shoulders, and she left her hand resting in his. “But wouldn’t that mean Nick was deliberately ignoring the dangers while he rode his skateboard? Courting disaster, if you like. That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Doesn’t it? He received a whole lot a concerned attention from you, and that looks like a big plus to me.”

  She pulled away from him. “That’s sick.”

  “No, it isn’t. As I’m sure I pointed out during your training, we keep first-aid kits in all the buildings to tend the cuts and scrapes the kids receive nearly every day. Some are self-inflicted, but once I’ve hustled a kid off to the emergency room for stitches, that’s usually the end of it, for him, at least.”

  “You can’t imagine that Nick threw himself into the street in hopes of winning a little sympathy and some new clothes.”

  “No, the scrapes were too deep, but the fact he can’t tell us where it happened or the name of the woman who hit him makes me wonder if he told us everything. Nick is a good kid, but that doesn’t mean he’s above bending the truth to his own advantage.”

  Catherine sat back to consider that possibility, but what struck her as odd was how Luke had reached for her hand rather than murmur a comforting comment about Sam, or dispute her observation on their differing views of life. He had simply changed the subject to brush both aside. Because each disclosure had been important to her, she now regretted confiding in him.

  “I was going to change my clothes, but I think I’d rather just go on home.” She stood and repositioned the chair in front of his desk. “But before I go, what did the owner of the auto supply say about the mural?”

  Luke nearly leapt to his feet. “I decided you were right about the
need for a two-story site and didn’t talk with him. I’ll assign Dave the job of finding us a better location.”

  While she was surprised he now agreed with her, the brightness had already faded from the day, and she took no pride in it. She wore a preoccupied frown as she hurried for the door. “That’s a good idea. Maybe he’ll see something we didn’t.”

  “Catherine? Wait a minute. Have I upset you?”

  She rested her hand on the doorknob and shrugged. When he’d confided his painful losses, she’d been unable to speak. Perhaps he was equally at a loss for words and had seized upon her bruised nail to distract them both. It was logical but failed to supply the reassuring affection she truly needed.

  “Maybe it’s just a delayed reaction to Nick’s injuries, but I need to go home.”

  “All right then. Take tomorrow off, and I’ll pick you up at seven Saturday night.”

  Catherine had been looking forward to their date, but now she was relieved it wasn’t until Saturday. “Seven’s fine. Good-bye.”

  After she’d closed the door, Luke looked around for something to throw, but other than the philodendron, which would create a dirty mess on the new carpet, nothing lay within reach. Still, he felt as though every word out of his mouth had been wrong, and he was sick to death of feeling guilty.

  Friday, Catherine read, worked in her garden and bought groceries. On Saturday she went into Pasadena’s Old Town to shop for something new to wear that night. Not that she needed anything new; she simply didn’t want to wear a dress Sam had selected or that she’d worn with him, and that eliminated everything she owned.

  She was uncertain what to purchase until she found an apricot sand-washed silk sheath and jacket in a trendy boutique. The flattering outfit was casual in style, and the soft sensuous fabric was a joy to wear. She then needed shoes, which were more difficult to find. By the time she’d completed her shopping, it was late afternoon, and she had to rush home to get ready.

  There was a message on her answering machine from Joyce. She hadn’t heard from Shane, but she was going to the party alone to look for artwork for future decorating jobs. She sounded resigned rather than happy, but Catherine was too nervous about her own evening to take the time to call and offer encouragement.

  She loved to scent her bath water with bubble bath, soak and read, but that night she was too nervous to relax, let alone read. She was dressed and ready to go forty-five minutes early, but her heart was in her throat as she paced from the entryway to the kitchen and back again.

  She’d never been so anxious before a date. Despite their tendency to disagree, she liked Luke enormously, but she was beginning to fear that either she was too much for him, or sadly, not nearly enough. It was an awful thought either way, and when the doorbell finally chimed, she had to run all the way from the kitchen to the front door. Then, before she welcomed Luke, she took a moment to gather the composure she certainly didn’t feel.

  Luke was dressed in a charcoal gray suit, white shirt and maroon and silver striped tie. He looked so handsome it hurt, but it was the fragrant spring bouquet he carried that proved to be her undoing.

  A colorful mix of yellow roses, purple iris, sparkling white daisies, sprigs of pussy willow and tendrils of ivy, it was delicate and utterly enchanting. The instant she took it from him, she dissolved in tears.

  Luke closed the door behind him and took her elbow to guide her toward the living room sofa. “You don’t like flowers? When your yard is so pretty, it didn’t occur to me you might not want any.”

  Horribly embarrassed, she fought to control her sobs and began to hiccup. “I love the flowers. It’s so sweet, and completely unexpected.”

  He was positive he’d mentioned buying her flowers when they talked about going out on a date. Perhaps her memories of that night were blurred by the pleasure they’d shared, but he recalled every minute in exquisite detail. He leaned over to kiss away a tear rolling down her cheek.

  “You look so pretty, and I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

  “I’m not sad,” she insisted, “just overwhelmed.”

  He sat back slightly. “You’re not usually so easily overwhelmed. In fact, you’re often downright obnoxious.”

  “I hope you’re just trying to make me laugh.” But the playful insult really did make her feel better. “I’ll go and wash my face, then I’ll be ready to go.” She left the sofa carrying the flowers, but he rose and caught her arm.

  “Why don’t you tell me where I might find a vase, and I’ll put the flowers in water.”

  “Oh, yes, of course, I wouldn’t want them to wilt. Here, let me do it.”

  He followed her into the kitchen, where she quickly produced a crystal vase from a high cupboard. She filled it with water, then trimmed the stems before placing the flowers in the vase. As he watched her, he ran his hand up her back and rubbed her shoulders gently.

  “It’s no wonder you’re nervous, but I haven’t been out on a date recently, either. I hope we’ll have a good time.”

  “Yes, so do I.” As soon as she had the bouquet artfully arranged in the vase, she turned to hug him. “You cut your hair,” she exclaimed.

  “I thought it was about time, but did it look that bad?”

  “No, in fact, I liked it long, but it’s still feathered over your ears, so it’s not really that short.”

  “I hope not. I made a dinner reservation, but I don’t mean to rush you. Would you like to make yourself a cup of tea and rest a minute before we leave?” he suggested.

  “No, really, I’m fine. I just need to touch up my makeup. Would you like anything to drink while you wait?”

  “No, but while you’re repairing your mascara, you ought to remove the price tag from your jacket. That’s a gorgeous outfit, but there’s no need to advertise it’s new.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh no.” She slipped off her jacket, and there was the tag dangling from the side seam. “I should have noticed this, but thank you for saving me from any further embarrassment tonight. I’m so sorry. What must you think of me?”

  He leaned over to smell the flowers. “I think you either like me an awful lot, or not at all.”

  “And you can’t tell which?” she asked incredulously.

  “I’m a psychologist, not a mind reader,” he replied, and he drew her into his arms for a lengthy kiss that removed all doubt as to her affection for him. “I should have done that before giving you the flowers. Now go on and fix your makeup. I’m getting hungry.”

  “For something more than me?” she teased.

  He laughed. “There’s the Catherine I know.”

  She felt like herself now too, but it was difficult to reapply her makeup when she couldn’t stop smiling.

  Pasadena was filled with fine restaurants, but Luke took the freeway for the short trip to China Town. Delighted by his choice, she reached for his hand as soon as his car was safely parked.

  “I came here with my parents when I was a little girl. I loved the food, but tossing dimes to the organ grinder’s monkey and dropping pennies into the wishing well were what really made the evening fun for me.”

  “We used to come here too. So much is new now, but I think you’ll like this place.” He grabbed for the dragon door handle and ushered her inside. Dimly lit, the elegantly appointed restaurant was scented with sandalwood incense and boughs of fragrant jasmine.

  “Everything smells delicious. If the food tastes half as good, I may not want to leave.”

  As they approached the hostess, Luke slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Don’t worry, I’ll offer an irresistible incentive to return home.”

  “I’ll look forward to it,” she responded softly.

  He gave his name, and they were shown to a red leather booth in a secluded corner. Catherine slid in first, and Luke followed. He reached under the table and laced his fingers in hers. “This is the most romantic restaurant I know. I hope you’ll like the food.”

  “I’m sure I will.�
�� She left her hand in his as she perused the menu with an eager gaze. “I love wonton soup, and walnut shrimp, beef and broccoli, spareribs, and oh, I’ll bet their green beans are perfectly crisp and delicious.”

  Luke closed his menu. “Why don’t we just order one of everything?”

  “That would be way too much food,” she cautioned. She loved seeing him in a lighthearted mood and decided right then to do her best not to mention Lost Angel all evening.

  “Then we’ll just take home the leftovers in those cute little cartons,” Luke promised, “and you’ll have enough food for a week. Although you don’t look as though you eat more than a few spoonfuls a day.”

  “I’m blessed with a fast metabolism, but even with that advantage, I haven’t really been hungry in a long while.”

  “Well, you certainly sound hungry tonight, but be sure to save room for your fortune cookie.”

  Catherine responded with a knowing smile, but he was all she wanted for dessert. “Thank you for bringing me to such a special place.” Their waiter arrived before Luke could respond, and he ordered all her favorites plus spring rolls and fried rice.

  She poured their tea from the warm ceramic pot into the matching cups. She raised hers in an affectionate toast. “To good evenings with good friends.”

  Luke took a small sip, then set his cup aside. “I hope I’m more than a good friend.”

  “You’re on your way, but I’m trying not to be presumptuous again. Besides, I believe lovers should also be friends. Are you worried that we’re not?”

  He looked away for a moment. “Let’s not worry about anything tonight.”

  “That sounds ominous. Do you recommend taking life one night at a time?” Catherine feared she knew where his thoughts were leading and held her breath.

  “No, but it’s a practical approach,” Luke insisted. “It’s an effective way to beat an addiction, and it might not be such a bad way to look at life in general.”

  She saw their waiter coming toward them with their soup balanced on his tray and hurried to respond before they were interrupted. “I happen to believe the whole point of life is growth, and that requires an openness to the future beyond what a single day, or night, might bring.”