by Anne B. Cole
“Gretta,” a far off voice called to her.
No, I can never go back.
A hand grazed her arm, caught her, and held fast.
“I’ve got you.”
Strong arms encompassed her, pulled her away from the sea which lapped at her feet and crashed against the jagged shoreline. Rings encircled the large, filthy fingers wrapped around her.
Fighting to get away, her shriek pierced the air.
“Gretta, you’re dreaming.”
The hands eased off. She couldn’t stop her screams. Scrambling over a cool hardwood floor, she attempted to see in the dim room. It took well over a minute for her to remember where she was, who she was.
Sam sat close beside her on the floor. Too close.
She scooted away, thudding her back into the couch as she gasped for air. Her heart raced and sweat dotted her forehead. Instantly, she scanned her clothing. A yellow tank top and gray athletic shorts; wrinkled, but clean. No blood. She clutched a tan fleece blanket in her right hand.
Images of her dream remained vivid, so unbearably real.
“I’ll get you something to drink.” Sam struggled to stand. Once on his feet he hurried to the kitchen.
Immediately, Gretta wanted him back, needing the safety of his presence. Being alone terrified her more than the trauma of being touched.
Sam returned with a glass of water. Her hands shook as she gulped it.
“Slow down.” His kind words should have been soothing. He brushed a few strands of hair off her face. “Pretty bad dream?” he whispered.
The words thundered in her head. ‘Pretty bad dream?’ There was nothing pretty about it. She stared at her knees. The ugly scrapes and bruises had started to heal with the swelling around the stitched gash on the side of her knee receding. It seemed more like months rather than a week had passed since the accident in the park. She’d had the same dream twice before. Her focus moved to Sam, afraid he would look at her the way Theo had.
Who is Theo?
Gretta pressed on her temples to focus, trying to remember her last thought.
Gone.
This Theo guy remained buried somewhere deep inside her head, until she dreamed again. Reality reminded her where she was and why.
Sadness swept in, replacing her anguish.
“What’s wrong with me?” Her words echoed as if someone else had said them.
Sam touched her forehead with his hand. “Stay here. Pop left for work. I’ll call Ruby.” He winced as he scrambled to his feet.
As he stepped away, Gretta panicked. “No, don’t go.”
Sam’s frown confirmed something was definitely wrong with her.
“I’m all right.” She steadied her voice. “Just, don’t go.”
Hesitantly, Sam offered his hand to her. She took it and stood, letting him guide her to the couch, settling beside him on the denim blue cushion. “I’m not going anywhere,” he announced, and she believed him.
Gretta tried to relax. Sadness remained, but she knew she was safe, like she was with Theo.
Who the hell is Theo? The memory remained enshrouded. She forced the strange thoughts away and nestled her cheek against Sam’s shoulder.
“Gretta, what do you remember?”
Sam’s voice resonated in her ear as she sat, unmoving. How does he know weird thoughts are tangled up inside my head? Could it be lingering side effects from the sedatives? She returned her fingers to her temples, struggling to think. Nothing seemed right.
Sam pulled back slightly. “Does your head hurt? Your medicine is in the kitchen.”
Pain killers, tranquilizers. Just what I need, more drugs to confuse me. No. Pills might help her deal with the physical pain, but they removed all emotion. Emily was right.
I need to suffer because it’s my fault.
“No, I’m good. The nightmare frightened me. How’s your shoulder?” she asked. Emily had accused her of being self-centered, and Gretta was determined to prove her sister wrong.
Sam pulled her closer. “I’d say it’s good, but I’m a terrible liar.”
Gretta knew he couldn’t lie, but how she knew escaped her.
She eyed his shoulder under the brace. It appeared bruised and swollen. Heat suffused her face when she realized he was wearing only sweatpants cut off right above the knee. She wondered if he slept in them or struggled to put them on before coming downstairs. A glance at the clock revealed the time; a little after six. No doubt her screams had awakened him.
Last night Sam’s father, Tim had brought an extra pillow and blanket to her. The couch was comfortable enough, but her mind would not rest. Unable to sleep, she brewed a fresh pot of coffee when she heard him getting ready for work at five.
Although grateful for the coffee, he’d ushered her back to the couch, tucking the soft blanket under her chin. Before he left the house, Tim had scrawled several numbers on a fast food napkin where he could be reached. With a final squeeze of her shoulder, he left.
God, she missed her dad.
She palmed Sam’s disfigured shoulder. Her fingers lightly traced the broken bones.
“When is your surgery?” she asked, unable to recall if he had told her.
“Monday morning.”
Her cold fingers warmed within seconds. He needed ice. She stood and hurried to the kitchen. “Do you have a zip baggie?”
“A what?” Sam called from behind her.
“A zip baggie to put ice in for your shoulder.” She faced him, amazed he wasn’t following her thoughts. It seemed he always knew what she was thinking. Today he appeared clueless.
He flashed a grin. “No zip baggies.”
“A towel will do.” Gretta dug through kitchen drawers.
“Sorry. Pop and I let the dishes dry in the sink,” he admitted sheepishly.
“How about bathroom towels? Or do you drip-dry, too?” She stared at him, imagining Sam naked, soaking wet, towel-less.
What did I just say?
She spun around and took the stairs two at a time before he could respond to her outrageous comment.
Gretta opened the linen closet in the hall outside the bathroom. The shelf stood empty, other than a few washcloths with the tags attached, obviously never used. She laughed at the thought of Sam drying off with a washcloth. She grabbed a blue one, pausing a minute to wipe the smirk off her face—and pictured him with clothes on—before going back downstairs.
She sensed Sam’s deep brown eyes on her as he took a seat at the table. Two cups of coffee filled the air with a soothing hazelnut aroma. A week of unread newspapers had been pushed aside to make room on the surface.
The newspaper rolls gave her an idea. She opened the fridge and pulled out an ice cube tray that contained half size cubes. No doubt they had been in the freezer for months. She plunked a handful in the center of the towel and pulled the edges around, securing them tight with the blue rubber band that had been around Monday’s edition.
Sam grimaced as he stood. “Will you help me take this off?”
Gretta froze. He wasn’t wearing anything but shorts. The makeshift ice pack fell from her fingertips and hit the floor.
He raised one brow as he pointed to the brace. “Ruby said I could remove it for an hour or so, as long as I behaved.”
Behaved?
She thought of many things to say, none of which were G-rated. The concussion must have altered her shy personality. Instead of embarrassing herself further, she retrieved the ice pack and set it on the table. Her fingers fumbled incompetently with the brace. Sam struggled until she loosened the right straps.
The brace slid off, but the process had taken a toll. He sank wearily onto the chair.
Gretta held the ice against his shoulder as he took several deep breaths. “When w
as the last time you had a painkiller?” she asked.
“Yesterday morning.” Sam didn’t move as he replied. Maybe the ice felt good.
She laid the ice pack on the table and stepped to the counter. Three prescription bottles sat in a row. She eyed the Vicodin.
“I’m not taking any today,” Sam announced. “I can’t drive if I do.”
“Where are you going?” Her voice wavered.
The way Sam’s eyes studied her confirmed his awareness of her fear. “Nowhere without you.”
Relief swept through her body and the corners of her mouth twitched. Had it been that long since she’d last smiled that she barely recognized the action?
“Where are we going?” She fumbled with the ice pack.
Sam pulled her onto his knee. This time there was no doubt, she felt a smile tug at her cheeks.
“Don’t get too excited. You may not want to go.”
She would go anywhere with him, but she didn’t want to sound desperate, so she played along. “Try me.”
“You’ll have to wear glasses.”
“A 3D movie?” She raised her eyebrow.
“Not quite.”
Sam didn’t strike her as the movie type. “Will I have to dress up? I have a limited selection of clothing.”
She focused on the ice pack as she pondered their date.
“Jeans, t-shirt. You’ll need ear plugs. And by the end of the night we may be covered in dirt.” His expression reminded her of a little boy wanting to play in the mud, but his grin disappeared when she hesitated.
“What day is today?” She truly couldn’t recall.
“Saturday.”
“I’d love to go to the racetrack,” she stated triumphantly, tickled at herself for figuring out the destination.
Sam face lit up. “You got it. I bet you’re fantastic at twenty questions.”
She giggled. “I usually figure an answer in ten, fifteen at the most. My dad and I—” Happiness drained away as hurt flooded in. She redirected her attention to Sam’s shoulder. Minutes passed. Cool water dripped between her fingers as she adjusted the towel. “I’ll get more ice.” She stumbled to the fridge.
A steady hand covered hers on the freezer handle. “We moved to Virginia because everything in New York reminded Pop of Mom.”
He understands, but I’m not ready to talk about it.
She dumped the remaining ice cubes on the wet towel. She focused on twisting it together to refasten the rubber band. When it was secure, she nodded to the table and he sat in a chair. Standing beside him, she gently returned the ice pack to his shoulder.
He touched her hand. “I want to tell you about my mom and I would like to know everything about your dad, but not today.”
Warm relief swept through her. A comfortable silence ensued as the ice melted away.
He tossed the soggy towel to the table. “Tony, a good friend of mine, is driving tonight at Virginia Motor Speedway. I work construction with him—”
“The huge guy with dark hair?” Gretta remembered other workers at the park, but the dark-haired one stuck in her mind. Somehow she knew him from somewhere else.
Sam’s face fell. “Yeah, Tony. He—”
“Kind of scares me.”
His cute grin returned. “I was terrified, myself, until I got to know him. Tony’s a real teddy bear inside. He lost his dad a few years back.” He pressed his lips together as if he wanted to take back his words.
She lowered her eyes. After a long silence, she whispered, “When does it get easier?”
He didn’t answer. After a minute she focused on him, silently demanding an honest response.
“Not for a long time.”
He wasn’t lying. She stared at a glass ring stain on the wooden table top, accepting his words.
“Gretta?”
She sensed his need for her to respond, a confirmation that she was okay. Words escaped her, so she leaned closer and kissed his cheek. There was comfort in the kiss and for a brief moment it seemed she wasn’t the one being consoled.
Fingers, then a palm cradled her face. His lips pressed hers firmly. Eagerly. A single tear trickled down her cheek. Sam pulled back apologetically, but she laid a finger to his lips.
“No talk.” She slipped her hand into his and helped him stand. She led him to the couch and tucked him in as his father had for her the night before. “You need to rest. We have a date tonight.” She pushed a sandy lock of hair off his forehead and stood on shaky legs. She needed to leave the room before she slid under the blanket with him. His touch, his kiss, flipped her insides out. Emotions tore through her, and she knew she had to distance herself from Sam, or else . . .
Fear rose suddenly inside her. She wasn’t afraid of him. She was afraid for him, but had no idea why.
She glanced at the kitchen. There was work to be done before Ruby arrived. Staying busy would help keep her mind off her dad.
“Gretta?” Sam pulled the blanket back, wordlessly inviting her to join him.
“I—you . . .”
He smiled at her nervousness. “I promise to behave. Ruby will kill me if I pop out my shoulder.”
Sam, the couch, and a warm blanket. She yearned for all three. Shivering from exhaustion, she knew if the dreams returned, she wanted to be in his arms. Bits and pieces of fear lingered. She desperately needed to feel safe.
“Only until you fall asleep.” She crawled in carefully next to him. He wrapped his good arm around her, pulled the blanket over them, and guided her head to his chest. She listened to the thump of his heartbeat. The balance between anxiety and security seemed familiar. Too familiar.
She rode the teeter-totter, leaning to safety.
Chapter 4
Spiderman and Cinderella
Sam
An irritated voice rang inside Sam’s head, “Slide over. You’re gonna fall off if you’re not careful.”
He found himself face down on the edge of the couch, alone. After rubbing a hand over his face, Ruby came into focus.
“Where’s Gretta?” he mumbled, disappointed she no longer snuggled with him.
“I sent her upstairs to take a shower.” Ruby scrutinized his bare shoulder. “How are you?”
“Good.” He winced as he rose to a sitting position. Without the brace, his shoulder hurt with the slightest movement.
Ruby snorted. “Of course you are. I come in and find you sound asleep in nothing but shorts with a pretty girl in your arms.”
“She’s beautiful,” Sam replied.
Ruby’s eyes narrowed. “Sit up, young man. We need to set some rules. One. Shirts and pants are required at all times. There will be no running around half-naked. Two. Keep the brace on your shoulder. The pain should keep you from forgetting. Three. Keep your—” She stopped short when Sam shot her an impish grin.
“Ruby, I only . . .” Sam noted her sadness and disappointment. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to sleep with Gretta.”
“Sam!” Gray-blue eyes bulged out of her head.
“Napped, Ruby. I swear, I held her and we both fell asleep.” Sam needed Ruby’s trust, her approval.
Her stare pierced through him. “Three. Keep the testosterone in check and remember to always be a gentleman. Be careful, Sam. It may not be safe.” She busied herself by folding the blanket before heading to the kitchen.
Sam followed to explain. “She had a nightmare, woke up screaming. It was awful.” He watched Ruby pause. She had been preparing dinner. She stood rigid, holding a whole chicken in her hands.
“Did she talk about it?”
“No.”
Ruby stared at the chicken, as if waiting for it to sprout a head, feathers, and feet. “Death is a scary thing.” She sighed and dropped t
he chicken in a foil roasting pan. “She needs you, Sam. Needs to feel safe, secure. Be careful.” She opened two drawers and slammed them shut. “Where are your dish towels?”
Sam shrugged his good shoulder.
She rummaged through her orange paisley tote bag and pulled out her keys.
“I’m going back to the store. Won’t be more than fifteen minutes. Be careful, Sam.”
Sam watched her hustle to the door.
Ruby hadn’t been giving advice on morality or promiscuity. She seemed truly concerned about him, not Gretta.
Katarina? Could Katarina’s spirit be within Ruby?
He hurried to her with his heart jackhammering in his chest. “What do I do?” The words came out weak, almost desperate. If Katarina's spirit resided within Ruby, would he need to go back in time with her? He had offered to help Roxana and Katarina in any way. But it had only been a week. He wasn’t ready to go back, and he would never leave Gretta. Not now, not ever.
Ruby paused at the door. Without facing him, she answered. “Nothing, Sam. I’m here to take care of you.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll be back.”
He ran a hand through his hair as she scurried out. The screen door slammed behind her. Her words swirled in his mind.
‘It may not be safe.’ ‘Be careful.’ ‘I’m here to take care of you.’
Katarina had warned him to distance himself from Gretta. The curse of bad luck on Gretta’s ring held true. Katarina and Roxana had worn the ring during their earthly lives. Both experienced much tragedy.