Night Dreams

by Sandra Chastain

  “Yes, I remember. Apparently I didn’t close the front door tightly and I forgot to lock up. Thank you, Lawrence.”

  Jonathan didn’t hide the smile on his face. He didn’t try to play games. He’d done too much of that in his life.

  “Your sudden memory loss wouldn’t have anything to do with Shannon, would it?”

  “Stay out of it, Larry. You’re not my father.”

  “No, but when I’m not being your chauffeur, or your butler, or your personal secretary, I’m your friend. What’s happening, Jon?”

  “How the hell do I know? I like her a lot. I tried, but I can’t stay away from her. I’m going to let it go and see where it takes me.”

  “I was afraid of that.”

  “You look just like the Snow Princess in my fairy tale book, Shannon.”

  “So do you, DeeDee, just like Kaseybelle in the adventure she has when she goes to the scary castle to spend the night with her special friend.”

  “You mean like our castle?”

  “Indeed I do. And she’s very afraid. She has to sleep in the tower room, and she’s never done anything like that.”

  “The television Kaseybelle is afraid of the castle?”

  “No, she’s afraid of the dark. But she learns to face her fears, and everything turns out fine.”

  “Ah, I don’t believe that Kaseybelle is afraid of anything. Besides, how can sleeping in the tower make everything turn out right?”

  “It’s magic, DeeDee,” Lawrence said as he tucked in her blanket. “All you have to do is believe in magic.”

  “Oh, I do,” DeeDee responded happily. “Isn’t this going to be fun, Shannon?”

  They were dressed in voluminous white fake-ermine capes and hats. Their hands were tucked into fur muffs, and their legs and feet were covered by blankets of fur. Lawrence had driven them to Jonathan’s private airfield and put them into the helicopter, whose whirling blades were already blowing snow across the runway.

  “Where’s Daddy?”

  “Right here, punkin.” Jonathan pulled himself into the seat opposite the pilot and closed the door.

  “Daddy’s wearing fur too.

  Tonight he’d pulled his hair back and fastened it with a dark ribbon. On his head he was wearing a Cossack’s hat that matched his fur jacket. Except for the hat, he looked the same as he had that first night when Shannon had watched him from her window. And the connection was even stronger.

  “That I am,” he answered his daughter, planting a kiss on her cheek. “We want to stay warm. It’s going to be very cold where we’re going. Are you wearing your long johns?”

  She giggled and buried her head against Shannon’s shoulder. “Daddy!”

  “And you, my fairy queen,” he turned his gaze to Shannon. “I hope that you’re dressed properly for our adventure.”

  “Absolutely,” she answered as she tried to be heard over the sound of the engine revving up to lift off. “Where did you get these wonderful clothes on such short notice?”

  “Once we shot a magazine spread here. The fur coats and hats were used in the shoot. Lawrence had packed them away in the attic. I thought my ladies would enjoy dressing up for our trip.”

  My ladies. She liked the sound of that. “I’m afraid to ask where we’re going.”

  “You wanted to take DeeDee out of the castle. We’re going to Fantasy World. We’re leaving reality behind and flying on our magic carpet.”

  “Magic carpet?” Shannon questioned.

  “I’m reading The Arabian Nights. Don’t worry. So far, I’m being entertained, so the storyteller is safe.”

  The fantasy was established. The promise of joy was there, in the smiles they exchanged. Jonathan had created a lovely adventure, and Shannon left all her doubts behind.

  The sound of the helicopter made talk difficult. Shannon contented herself with the thought that Jonathan had found a copy of The Arabian Nights and read it. She knew that he didn’t indulge himself in that kind of reading, and it made her feel warm inside.

  In no time Jonathan’s pilot landed the helicopter in the middle of a deserted snow-lined street of a western village. There were no gunfighters, no saloon girls inviting them in, but as quickly as the blades slowed, they heard the sound of an engine.

  “Look, Shannon, snowmobiles.”

  Moments later Shannon had been installed in one of the vehicles with a driver, while Jonathan drove the machine that carried DeeDee. Across the theme park they flew, blades flying on the icy snow.

  “First stop is the rides,” Jonathan said as the vehicles came to a stop at the carousel.

  “Rides? At this time of year?”

  “Certainly. Bundle up, now.” Jonathan climbed out of the snowmobile and placed DeeDee on the back of a fat, smiling pig. He tucked the furry robe around her so that only her face was uncovered, then turned to Shannon. “Which animal do you want, my fairy princess?”

  “Me?” Shannon was nonplussed.

  “Haven’t you ever ridden on a carousel?”

  “Well, yes, but not in a very long time.”

  “Shall I pick your steed?”

  Shannon could only nod. By the wicked expression on his lips, she knew he, too, was remembering the last ride she’d taken, the night before.

  He lifted her in his arms, just as he’d lifted DeeDee. Shannon’s face flushed as he stepped onto the ride behind his daughter so that DeeDee didn’t see the quick, hot kiss he planted on her parted lips.

  “I’ve thought about that all day,” he whispered.

  “So have I.” And more.

  “Let’s go, Daddy, my pig is getting cold.”

  “Of course, let me deposit Shannon here on this possum and we’ll begin.”

  “Possum?” Shannon asked with a laugh. She was sitting on the back of a silvery white unicorn. “Do you need glasses?”

  “Is that a question?”

  She looked at the man standing beside her, at the ever-present yearning that transcended his stern expression, and nodded her head. She couldn’t have answered any other way.

  “You betcha.”

  • • •

  In an empty theme park the lights blinked, the music played, and they rode the rides, sliding from one to the other on silver blades that DeeDee quickly called their spaceships. The park shops were open, but there were no clerks to take their money.

  “Choose whatever you like, punkin,” Jonathan said. “I’ve already paid the owners more than you’ll ever buy.”

  Soon Shannon was carrying a bag that DeeDee filled with Christmas candy, Indian moccasins, pencil sharpeners, and other gifts that she refused to allow them to examine too closely. Shannon even managed to conceal a couple of gifts in the pocket of her fur cape.

  “Are you hungry?” Jonathan finally asked.

  “Oh, yes. We want food!” DeeDee answered for all.

  The restaurant was a rustic inn, not in the theme park, but just outside at the entrance. With his hand resting proprietarily on Shannon’s back, Jonathan carried DeeDee, and they entered the empty restaurant. There were fat couches pulled up before a huge fireplace with logs blazing. Carols played and thousands of miniature colored Christmas lights flickered, but they were the only patrons.

  Jonathan removed their fur hats and cloaks, leaving them on a table by the door.

  In the center of the dining room there was a table prepared for three. On a cart nearby were serving trays kept warm by small flame burners. Jonathan seated DeeDee, then he seated Shannon, giving her a gentle caress beneath her ear.

  “Now, I shall serve my beautiful ladies.”

  From the caldrons he placed tender medallions of pork on their plates, adding slices of candied yams and baked cinnamony apples. There was milk for DeeDee and a sparkling wine for the two adults.

  They ate in silence, almost as if they were in awe of the beauty of the occasion and the magic of the night.

  “Is there dessert, Daddy?”

  “Certainly. We have an entire tray of sw
eets. You may choose what you want.”

  He brought the tray to the table. DeeDee studied the pies and cakes, finally settling for a mound of whipped cream and strawberries, most of which she left uneaten as her energy level was finally depleted.

  “I’m sleepy, Daddy.”

  “Well, Shannon and Daddy aren’t quite finished with our desserts. Do you suppose you could curl up on that couch by the fireplace if I cover you up with your fur coat?”

  “Yes, Daddy,” she murmured sleepily.

  Shannon watched as Jonathan settled his daughter in, then brought the coffeepot and filled each of their cups. “And what about you, Shannon, are you sleepy?”

  “No, I feel as if I’m afraid to close my eyes, else I fall off this magic carpet.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t want to lose you.”

  They drank their coffee, content to share the wonder of the moment without words.

  “Would you like to dance?” he finally asked.

  “I don’t dance,” Shannon said.

  “Then just stand up while I hold you.”

  He held out his hand, and she placed hers in it. The dance floor was dimly lit. The music was soft and dreamy, and Shannon slid her arms around Jonathan’s neck, lifting her face to look into his eyes.

  “Do we have to dance?” she asked with a bit of devilment in her voice. “Couldn’t you just kiss me without needing an excuse?”

  He could, and he did—not once but many times. The lights flickered and the fire burned down. And two people joined in the enchantment of the night.

  There was no more pretense when they arrived back at the castle. Mrs. Butterfield was waiting to take DeeDee. Lawrence took care of locking up, and Shannon and Jonathan strolled up the stairs to the turret at the top of the world.

  Inside her room, Shannon waited. Would he stay or go?

  Jonathan closed the door and snapped the lock.

  “I brought you something from the park.”

  “You did?”

  He cupped his hands around his gift. Then he turned what he was holding upside down for a moment and held it out.

  He’d brought her a clear crystal ball in which there was a lovely gray-rock castle. The flick of his wrists had set off a silver snowfall that flurried to the ground in a lovely scene.

  “Oh, it’s beautiful. Thank you, Jonathan. I’ll always remember this night, the castle, and you, even after the fantasy has ended.”

  “It isn’t going to end,” he said roughly. “And I’m not sure that this is a fantasy.”

  “Of course it is, Jonathan, and it will end.”

  But for one more night it was real, a beautiful illusion filled with love, with unspoken promises and dreams made real. Each knew that the end would come, but not yet, not yet.

  Seven

  A knock on the door woke her the next morning. Sleepily she forced herself back from the wonderful place where she’d been all night.

  A second, more forceful knock rattled the door.

  “Yes? Come in.”

  Mrs. Butterfield stood in the doorway, a perplexed expression on her face. “Shannon, I think you’d better come downstairs.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Shannon started to rise, remembered that she was nude, and pulled the covers to her neck.

  “It’s Mr. Jonathan. He’s locked himself up in the study and won’t answer the door.”

  “Jonathan? Why?” Frightening thoughts rushed through her head. He was sorry he’d come to her room. The fantasy was over. He’d gone back to being the angry, unhappy man he’d been before she’d come. He was ill.

  “I’ll be right down. Try to occupy DeeDee so that she doesn’t know.”

  “I sent her off with Lawrence and her teacher to find holly berries for decorating.”

  • • •

  Moments later Shannon was knocking on the study where she’d first been summoned to meet Jonathan. There was no answer.

  “Jonathan, it’s me. Please let me in.”

  Still no answer.

  Shannon whirled around and set off to find Mrs. Butterfield, who was in the kitchen. “You told me once that all the door locks in the house could be controlled electronically. Where is the control system?”

  “In his office.”

  “Thanks.” The office wasn’t locked, and it wasn’t hard to find the control panel. Jonathan had made it easy for her. With his usual precise efficiency he’d labeled everything. One line of blinking lights was identified as door locks. There were two switches. Shannon flipped the off switch and turned back to the study.

  This time she didn’t knock. She simply turned the knob and went inside. He was there. She knew it as she always did. He was sitting behind his desk with his chair facing the window.

  “Please leave,” he said quietly.

  “Do you mean the room, or the castle?”

  “Both. Go now, before I hurt you too.”

  His voice was tired and drained. She might have argued, but she’d already had the same argument with herself earlier, and she knew what he was going through. “It’s too late, Jonathan. We can’t erase what happened.”

  “I don’t want to erase it. But I know now it can’t happen again.”

  What she was hearing was clearly regret. He’d closed the door on their night of magic and was storing it somewhere inside that stoic mind. He couldn’t make it go away, but he could contain it.

  “Why, Jonathan? This makes no sense. Just tell me why?”

  “I can’t. Go, Shannon, now.”

  There was no room for argument. His dead voice said it all. No matter how much she might have wanted to protest, she couldn’t. If he wanted her to go, she would. Sofia had slammed doors between them so many times. The acceptance never came any easier, nor was the pain less hurtful. But she’d numbed herself in order to deal with it, and she could do so again.

  The lump in her throat was so big, she couldn’t speak. But she could feel, and with pure determination she forced out the words, “No, not yet. We made a bargain, and I insist that you stick to it. Two more weeks and it will be Christmas. I’ll stay until then—for a little girl who needs me to stay. Surely you will admit that she can’t be allowed to give up.”

  “No, DeeDee is the most important thing in the world.” That and holding Shannon in his arms again, feeling her body against his.

  “Then we’re agreed? Don’t worry about what happened, Jonathan. It was just the magic of Christmas. Everyone has their weak moments, that was ours.”

  “Yes,” he whispered, adding under his breath, “one magic moment.”

  She left him where she’d found him, sitting in the shadows, with his back turned to her.

  Mrs. Butterfield was in the kitchen. This time Shannon didn’t try to be subtle. “What happened, Mrs. Butter? Last night Jonathan was … different. Something had to have changed that. Do you know?”

  “All I know is that this morning he had a telephone call. He stayed in his study a long time after that. I heard him and Lawrence shouting, but I don’t know why.”

  “Was it about me?”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know. I’d hoped that you’d be able to draw him out. He needs someone to care about him, someone other than a child.”

  “Apparently it isn’t me,” Shannon said woodenly. The enchantment had come to an end. He could make love to her, but she wasn’t important enough for him to share his pain with her. She was being abandoned. She finally knew how her mother must have felt at the end of her affairs.

  The next week dragged by. DeeDee didn’t seem to notice the tension. Instead she worked even harder at her exercises. Finally the braces were put in place and she was allowed to stand up, holding on to the balance rail. Every day she forced herself to stand and every day she fell.

  Though he continued to visit and encourage DeeDee, Jonathan Dream didn’t appear on the balcony over the solarium when Shannon was present.

  The house took on all the characteristics of Christmas—pine boughs, red-v
elvet ribbons, holly berries, and more mistletoe. Mrs. Butterfield unearthed a manger scene, which was set up on a table in the hall. Shannon managed to fill her days playing with DeeDee and finishing the castle episode for the television program. She wanted DeeDee to see it and recognize that Kaseybelle’s determination helped her through the bad times. But the nights loomed endless and quiet in her perch at the top of the world.

  Shannon never imagined that she could feel so lonely in a house filled with four chattering women. But now the tutor was going home for a visit, leaving only the therapist, who left at night, and Mrs. Butterfield.

  Though DeeDee was growing stronger and had managed to take a few unassisted steps, she wasn’t yet able to walk away from the bars. Shannon was worried. Perhaps her plans had been too grand. What if DeeDee couldn’t manage the visit to Santa? Shannon’s time was coming to an end. Leaving DeeDee, with her quick mind and unquenchable spirit, was going to be hard, and she suspected that it would be hard for the six-year-old as well. Even Kaseybelle couldn’t help.

  Shannon couldn’t begin to stop the inner hurt that had brought her conversations with Kaseybelle to a stop and dried up her well of creativity for the first time in her life.

  It was late afternoon, a week before Christmas, when DeeDee found Shannon sitting in Jonathan’s chair staring out the window at the bare ground, mushy from the melting snow. The castle-visit episode was in the can and set for airing the week after Christmas, and she was uncharacteristically depressed. A sudden warm spell had swept up from the south, erasing Christmas from the picture-postcard beauty of the mountain.

  The mountain seemed to be weeping. Maybe it was the Christmas carol that was playing in the kitchen, or maybe it was the melting snow, or maybe it was her impending departure, but suddenly tears welled up in Shannon’s eyes, and she let out a soft sigh.

  “Don’t cry, Shannon,” DeeDee said, “please don’t cry. I don’t want you to cry. When grown-ups cry, they die and go away.”

  Shannon reached out and hugged the child, pulling her into her lap. DeeDee was actually trembling. Her reaction was more than just concern. It was closer to terror.

  “I’m not going to die, DeeDee. It’s all right. I promise. I may have to go away soon, but I won’t die.”