Night Dreams

by Sandra Chastain

  For a moment Shannon didn’t know whether the tingling in her skin was a result of the fire or the man who was standing behind her. She only knew that it pushed away the cold and made her feel warm inside.

  “How can we do that?” he asked.

  “By doing the things that normal people do. The first thing is a Christmas tree.”

  “I’ll send for one tomorrow.”

  “No. Couldn’t we go into the woods and cut our own?”

  “You want to cut down a real tree?”

  “Of course. We’ll let DeeDee pick it out. It is all right to cut your own tree, isn’t it? I mean, there aren’t any laws against it?”

  She turned to face him, drawing his hand with her movement so that now it rested against her shoulder where DeeDee’s head had lain earlier. There was a wistfulness in her expression and a quickening of the pulse beneath his fingertips.

  The only thing there might be a law against was the turn his thoughts were taking.

  “I’ll have Lawrence arrange it.”

  “Lawrence?”

  “You met him at the airport. My associate. He takes care of things for me.”

  “No, not Lawrence. You. You have to come.”

  “I don’t—I haven’t—Dammit!” He turned away in frustration, then immediately regretted his action. He had to put a stop to his readiness to fall in with her plans. It had taken him too long to find a way to accept what had happened, to let a woman who’d only be there for a short time change everything.

  “Why not?”

  “Jonathan Dream doesn’t go out in the daytime, Ms. Summers.” It isn’t that I don’t want to. I do—too much.

  She almost reached out and touched him. There was a pain somewhere beneath her rib cage that intensified with every breath. His actions were his own; she couldn’t allow herself to take on the man and the child.

  “We’re only going into the woods, Mr. Dream. You go into the woods. I’ve seen you.”

  She was back to Mr. Dream again.

  “You watch me?” His breath caught in his throat.

  “Often. I see you take the dog out at night. I’ve often envied him his midnight companionship for a walk in the moonlight.”

  “You could join me.” He surprised himself with the suggestion.

  “No, you don’t want company. I’ve just invited you to come with me and your daughter, and you’ve refused. DeeDee needs you. My presence shouldn’t keep you away from DeeDee. Is it me, or—”

  Her eyes were open wide, her breath coming quick and fast. Wearing the burgundy robe, she looked as if she were some chatelaine of the castle, from some ancient time. And he wanted to sweep her up in his arms and take her to his chamber, where he’d remove that velvet garment and place her on a bed of ermine and—

  “—do you truly fear the light, Mr. Dream?”

  “I thought you were going to call me Jonathan.”

  “I thought we were trying to help your daughter. Please come with us.”

  They weren’t talking about DeeDee any longer, and they both knew it. He was going to say no, but her “please?” was so fragile, so uncertain that his refusal died in his throat.

  This time it was Shannon who reached out, imploring, laying her hand on his shoulder, feeling the sudden tension that followed. “Don’t try so hard to be strong, Jonathan. Everyone needs the magic of love sometimes, along with strength and courage.”

  A long moment passed.

  She withdrew her hand and stepped back.

  The fire crackled and the light dimmed.

  “And you, Shannon, what do you need?”

  “I think I need to go. It’s very late. Let me know what you decide, Mr. Dream.”

  She was halfway up the stairs when he called her name.

  “Shannon, wait.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll arrange it. Tomorrow afternoon. We’ll take the sleigh.”

  Five

  DeeDee raced through her lessons and her exercises, not sure what her surprise would be, but trusting that Kaseybelle wouldn’t disappoint her. Shannon felt herself hurrying as well. She sent her work through her computer modem, but hearing Willie’s voice was more important than a machine. A quick personal call reassured him that she wasn’t disintegrating and reassured her once again too.

  In the kitchen Butter was humming “Jingle Bells.” From beyond the kitchen door there came the sound of tromping feet and real bells.

  Shannon had changed into a pair of long underwear and jeans, a turtleneck sweater, a flannel shirt, and a down-filled vest. With boots, a stocking cap, and gloves, she was ready to brave the late-afternoon snow and cold.

  The kitchen door opened and the limo driver stepped inside, rubbing his hands together. “Afternoon, Ms. Summers. I think we’re ready.”

  “We?”

  “DeeDee and I.”

  “Oh.” She hoped her disappointment wasn’t as obvious to Lawrence as it was to her. Jonathan wasn’t coming. Even after she’d explained the necessity of normal activities and magical dreams, he still wasn’t ready to allow himself to join in the spirit of the season.

  Well, so be it. The tree-cutting excursion was for DeeDee, not Jonathan, and if he wanted to hide out in his office and watch them leave, that was his loss. Shannon crammed her hat on her head and strode from the castle into the courtyard. The day was cloudy, and the threat of snow was mixed with low clouds that gave the effect of fog on the mountain.

  Shannon stopped short. She didn’t believe what she was seeing. Closing her eyes tightly, she waited a moment, then opened them again. DeeDee was sitting in a real, old-fashioned, straight-out-of-a-Russian-winter horse-drawn sleigh. Her cheeks were already pink, and her eyes danced with excitement.

  “Come on, Kaseybelle,” she cried out, “we’re going to find a Christmas tree. My daddy knows where there is a perfect one.”

  “Your daddy?”

  “Yes, Shannon, get in and cover up.”

  Shannon turned around. Jonathan Dream was standing at the back of the sleigh, saw in hand. He was wearing a ski mask with holes cut for his eyes and mouth, and a thick jacket with a fur collar. He’d managed to completely cover the scarred side of his face. He was dressed all in black, down to his gloves and boots. The impact took her breath away.

  Quickly she followed instructions, climbing in beside DeeDee and allowing her to pull the thick wool blanket over her knees. “Isn’t it pretty, Kaseybelle? Just like on the TV.”

  “DeeDee, you know I’m not really Kaseybelle. My name is Shannon.”

  “And my name is Deanna, but nobody ever called me that, except my mother.”

  “Let’s go!” Jonathan obliterated his daughter’s final words by climbing into the sleigh and wedging himself in beside Shannon and DeeDee. He gave a cluck to the horses and snapped on the reins. They pulled away from the castle and moved briskly down the road, accompanied by the jingle of bells on the harnesses of the two horses pulling the sled.

  There was no wind, and the air was moist and cold, though not unbearable. DeeDee seemed not to be aware of the temperature, chattering brightly about everything they saw as if it were all new to her. She was ecstatic.

  Shannon was the one having trouble. Fitting the three of them into the sleigh meant that DeeDee had to sit in her lap. Beneath the fur coverlet, through all her layers of clothing, she could feel Jonathan’s hip touching hers, his strong leg moving against hers, and his face was so close that every time she turned to answer one of DeeDee’s questions, they almost touched.

  “Relax, Shannon,” he said under his breath. “I’m not the king of Persia. This was your idea, remember?”

  “I’m fine.” But she wasn’t. She wasn’t fine at all. In fact she was so rattled that she gave up on any conversation. DeeDee didn’t seem to notice the strain, though Shannon knew she wasn’t fooling Jonathan Dream. She wondered what he was feeling.

  “Daddy, isn’t this fun? I’m so glad we’re going to cut down a tree. Do you see any squirrels? Th
ey’re probably having a tea party. Did you know squirrels have sore hands from digging?”

  “No, DeeDee. I didn’t know squirrels drank tea.”

  “Well, they do. Shannon told me. Shannon, did you know that my daddy has another horse, a very big black horse? Sometimes he lets me sit in front when he rides him.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “He’s called Sinbad. My daddy named him. Can you ride a horse? Do squirrels ride horses?”

  “Sinbad, a tale from The Arabian Nights.” Shannon gave Jonathan a knowing smile. “So you do know the story of Sinbad?”

  “I do,” DeeDee said. “My teacher read to me about Sinbad. He was a sailor.”

  “About those tales, Ms. Summers. Not having read them, I’m curious, did the teller of the tales survive?”

  “I don’t think anybody knows.”

  He didn’t smile, but the tone was set for the afternoon. They were sharing an adventure and were joined in the quest.

  DeeDee’s stream of questions rarely required answers. Jonathan was glad. He heard her chatter, but his mind was having trouble separating his attention to his daughter from his physical awareness of the woman beside him. Focusing on the horses, he managed to close out most of his unwanted reaction.

  After a time the sled left the road, following a logging trail around the side of the mountain. The shaded underbrush was still heavy with snow, closing them off between walls of green and white. Shannon had the feeling that they were all alone in the world, until she heard the crash of something moving through the woods.

  “Jonathan?” she called out, watching the woods anxiously.

  “Something wrong?”

  “There’s something following us.” At that moment the Malamute ran into the road, nipping at the sled in excitement. “Oh, I thought the dog might be a wild animal.”

  “Not Hap. He’s very civilized.”

  “Hap?”

  “His name is really Happy,” DeeDee explained. “See, Miss Shannon, he always looks like he’s smiling.”

  The child was right. With his dark mask, his open mouth, and big pink tongue, he looked very pleased with life in general.

  “Hap, settle down,” Jonathan said, bringing the horses to a stop.

  “What’s wrong, Daddy?”

  “Nothing. You wanted to find a tree. Well, let’s see what you like.”

  Jonathan climbed down from the front seat of the sled and held out his hand, first to Shannon, who hesitated for a moment, then allowed him to assist her out, then to DeeDee, who laughed and flung herself against him as he lifted her.

  “May I truly pick any one I like?”

  “You may pick, but remember, the horses have to drag it back, and we don’t want to cut down something that’s too big for them to pull.”

  “That’s right,” Shannon agreed, not at all certain any of the trees she saw could be moved by anything short of King Kong.

  Jonathan took a curved handsaw from beneath the seat and handed it to Shannon. With DeeDee straddling his neck, he started off through the woods, his feet sinking in the snow to midway up his leg. Gamely Shannon followed. Drawing cartoons had never been so energetic, nor so exciting, either.

  “Wait for me.”

  The tree DeeDee finally selected was a bit lopsided, but Jonathan assured her that if he cut the bottom of the trunk just right, it would be perfect. And even if it wasn’t, it needed to be chosen. He could almost feel how happy DeeDee had made the tree.

  “Really, Daddy? Can you feel that?”

  “I can always feel happiness, punkin.”

  “You haven’t called me that for a long time, Daddy, not since—”

  “Here, let Shannon hold you while I cut it down.”

  He stopped what DeeDee was about to say, and took the saw Shannon was carrying. She propped DeeDee on her hip, stepping back out of danger.

  Hap wasn’t the least concerned about danger. He danced around the tree, ranging back and forth as if to say he was making the area safe for the procedure. Jonathan planted the saw against the trunk and began to move the blade back and forth. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he leaned back and peeled the ski mask from his head.

  “Is it hard work, Daddy?”

  “It’s warm work, DeeDee.”

  “Does it hurt the tree, Daddy, cutting it down?”

  Jonathan wiped the perspiration from his forehead and leaned on the tree. “Sometimes a thing has to hurt before it can appreciate the good feelings that come when the hurt begins to go.”

  Shannon wasn’t sure whether he was talking about the tree or something else. Dusk was falling fast, casting eerie shadows across the forest. But Jonathan didn’t seem aware of having uncovered his face, exposing his patch and scar. She focused her attention on DeeDee and the dog. Soon he turned back to his task, and moments later the tree crashed to the ground, shaking the snow from its branches as it fell.

  The ski mask was back in place. The tree was soon hitched to the sleigh, and they were on their way back to the castle. Gray shadows now covered the road, and the wood creatures had grown silent. DeeDee chattered brightly for a time, then snuggled beneath the blanket, and Shannon knew that she was cold.

  Moving briskly back to the main road, the horses, too, seemed ready to get to the barn and a fresh meal of hay. Lawrence was waiting at the back of the house.

  “My, my, DeeDee, that’s a fine-looking tree.”

  “I picked it myself, Lawrence. And we’re going to make our own decorations. It will be just bea-u-ti-ful!”

  Lawrence unhooked the tree and led the horses away as Mrs. Butterfield met them at the door with DeeDee’s wheelchair. “Come inside, child. You’re going to have a nice hot bath to warm you up and then some supper.”

  “No, I don’t want to.”

  Shannon put DeeDee in her chair, gave her a kiss on the forehead, and ruffled her fine hair. “Go along with Mrs. Butterfield, DeeDee. You’ve had an exciting day.”

  “I’ve got soup with stars,” the housekeeper said brightly, “and some hot yellow cornbread just for you.”

  “Fairy soup, Mrs. Butter?”

  “Certainly, don’t I always?”

  DeeDee’s answer was lost in the vastness of the castle walls.

  “Thank you, Shannon.” Jonathan came in the back door, removing his jacket and gloves. “You were right about the tree. I don’t know why I never realized it.”

  A warm satisfaction moved through her. He wasn’t immediately pulling back. His patch and his scar were exposed once more, and he didn’t turn away as he usually did. She held back an urge to reach out and touch his cheek. For a moment she felt as if he were asking for comfort, as if he were waiting for her to give him a kiss and ruffle his hair.

  Then he pushed abruptly past her, skimming her shoulder with his own, taking the warmth with him.

  “Good night, Shannon. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  At the foot of the stairs he stopped and turned back. “Unless you’d like to have dinner with me?”

  Did she want that?

  Shannon’s knees threatened to buckle. Did she want to have him renew that warmth inside her, then take it away again? She didn’t think so, He’d been right about hurting. Sometimes you did have to hurt to appreciate how good it felt not to. And she was only beginning to understand what that meant.

  “No,” she whispered in a raspy voice, her pulse leaping across her nerve endings like Hap playing in the snow. “I don’t think that’s smart—I mean, a good idea.”

  “I never said it was a smart idea. I’m pretty damned sure it isn’t. But good? That’s another story.” Then he was gone.

  The next afternoon the Christmas tree appeared magically in the small parlor. DeeDee insisted that Shannon come and approve the spot where Lawrence had placed it.

  “It’s perfect, DeeDee.”

  “Mrs. Butter and I are going to make popcorn and string it like tinsel ropes for the tree. And my teacher let me cut stars from red and green foil pa
per. And we’re going to decorate the tree tonight, after supper. We’re all going to have a July picnic on the floor. Mrs. Butter said so. You and me and Daddy. And we’re going to have sandwiches and cookies and little potatoes that curl up like corkscrews, and there’ll be lights and—”

  Shannon could believe the child was repeating Mrs. Butterfield’s conversation almost verbatim. A smile and nod of agreement were all that were required in response.

  DeeDee had been working very hard with the therapist, and her legs were becoming stronger every day. Though walking up to sit on Santa’s knee, even with her leg brace, might still be too ambitious, Shannon was certain that by the time the trip came, DeeDee would be ready to rely on the wheelchair if need be.

  As for Jonathan Dream sharing their meal and helping with the tree, Shannon was less sure. He’d gone to get the tree, but she’d shamed him into it, and he hadn’t been anywhere around his daughter today, as far as Shannon could tell. A casual question of Mrs. Butterfield, and she learned that he’d been tied up with business. The limo had brought several men to the castle and then taken them away again.

  And the addictive telltale shiver that told her he was watching had been absent.

  Perhaps it was just as well. The trip to get the tree had shown her that they were too volatile, setting each other off simply by coming together. Shannon had once owned two statues, a pair of ice skaters that were magnetized. If they came together properly, they kissed. But if their poles were reversed, they whirled around and moved away from each other.

  Maybe she and Jonathan shared that problem. He was North and she was South, or maybe they were both the same. What, she wondered, would happen if they ever struck the right pose?

  “Oh, and Daddy is going to order us new dresses for Christmas,” DeeDee chattered on. “I told him that we should have red. I like red, don’t you?”

  “Yes. I like red very much. I always did. I never had a red dress when I was a little girl.”

  “We could wear red tonight, for our July picnic. Mrs. Butter says that people wear, red, white, and blue to celebbb—”