by Nell DuVall
Despite the time, almost one thirty, Cassie found Tula busy with customers to seat and serve. Cassie saw no sign of Kinesha, Tula’s plump, cheerful waitress, as she sat at the usual table near the kitchen and waited for her friend.
A few minutes later, Tula arrived. “Whew, everyone decided to come for lunch, and Kinesha called in sick.” She took Cassie’s order and then hurried off.
She returned in five minutes and dropped off Cassie’s sandwich, but the bell at the front summoned her to seat another customer. Cassie was halfway through her cheese and sprouts sandwich before Tula finally had time to join her.
“Sometimes I wonder why I keep this up.” Tula grimaced at Cassie as she set down a pot of Tula’s Special and two cups.
“Because you like people, that’s why. I’ve had a horrible day, too. When things go this bad, you always say the planets are under Uranus.”
Tula poured the tea and handed a steaming cup to Cassie. “Interesting you should mention that. I think they are. What’s happened to you?”
“Uh, I went to see Ian McLeod.” Cassie stared down at her cup.
Tula nodded. “And he didn’t believe you.”
“Even worse. I spilled coffee all over his carpet, and he escorted me out of his office with orders not to come back.”
“You can always offer to pay for cleaning the carpet.” Tula’s grin made light of the incident.
“Yeah, if I could afford it.”
Tula leaned forward, bright eyes filled with curiosity. “So, what did you think of him?”
“Well,” Cassie paused as she sought the right words for Ian McLeod. “He looks as good as he did in my dreams, but he made me feel like I should have worn a coat.”
Tula cocked her head to one side. “A coat?”
“If he’d been any colder, I’d have frostbite.”
“That cold, huh?”
“I guess I didn’t help matters by telling him about the dreams.” She sighed. “I told you he’d respond just like Rod.”
“Hey girl, you know the dreams are real. That’s all that counts.”
“For us, maybe, but what good does it do to warn someone who refuses to listen to you?”
“Did he?”
“Well, not exactly, not at first. He listened when I told him about Ellie Latham and then the dreams about him until I got to the rabbit. He really lost it when I mentioned the rabbit. After that, he couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.” Cassie stared at her hands.
“So he threw you out?”
“After the coffee. He didn’t believe me about that either. Tula, I just couldn’t take the chance. In my dream, the coffee turned blood red. Maybe I was wrong, but I took that to mean poison, especially since I saw the cup next to his dead hand.”
“Yeah, sounds like poison to me. You did the right thing.” Tula wrapped her long fingers around her cup. “As for the rabbit, I told you, you need to work out who or what the rabbit stands for.”
“I just don’t see the connection. I don’t know anything about Ian McLeod. The rabbit probably means more to him then it does to me. He told me, in the dream his conscious self would reject dreams. He did, in a big way.”
Tula shook her head and poured them each more tea. “So, what’s the next step?”
Cassie bit her lower lip and tried to marshal her thoughts. “I don’t know. I want the dreams to stop. I warned him — that should be enough.” She appealed to Tula for reassurance.
Her friend fingered the gold sun pendant around her neck. “I’m not certain it is. The rabbit is the key. With luck, Ian McLeod will heed your warning. If he does, you won’t have to worry about any more dreams. I guess we’ll have to wait and see if you dream again, and whether the dream tells us any more.”
“I hope not.” Cassie shuddered and then sipped her tea. Gradually, the hot, spicy liquid helped to soothe her nerves.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. After all the hassle with Ian McLeod, someone almost creamed me.”
“What?” Tula stared at her as her right hand gripped her sun pendant. “Are you saying someone tried to kill you?”
Uncertain, Cassie focused on her almost empty cup. Tula’s words struck home, but the old man had implied the cyclist buzzed pedestrians all the time.
“I ... wouldn’t go that far. Some jerk on a motorcycle almost ran me down after I left McLeod’s office.”
Tula took Cassie’s hand in both of hers. “Cassie, is there any chance the person threatening Ian McLeod knew you had gone there to warn him?”
“What?”
Tula’s words shocked her, but she shook her head. “I don’t see how. I haven’t told anyone except you about the dreams. I told the receptionist I’d come about taxes. Why would anyone want to kill me?”
“I don’t know, but I don’t like it.” Tula frowned, her normally smooth forehead a mass of furrows. “You warn McLeod, and someone tries to run you down. Be careful. It could be the same person.”
“Great. I try to help McLeod, and I become a target too. How do I protect myself from someone I don’t even know?”
Looking thoughtful, Tula fingered the disk of the sun pendant. “Concentrate on the rabbit. Work out who or what the rabbit represents, and you’ll have the key to stop him.”
“It sounds easy, but it isn’t,” Cassie protested. “Dream images aren’t that simple. You know that.”
“Have you turned up anything interesting on rabbits so far?”
Cassie pulled out her note cards and held them up. “I know their life history, the sounds they make and when, how often they mate, the size of their litters, their life expectancy. Rabbits aren’t rodents, but a separate order all together.”
Tula waved that aside. “Those are just facts. Facts are not what you need. Focus more on symbolism.”
Sorting through her notes, Cassie scanned them for relevant items. Which cultures had regarded the rabbit as sacred?
“Well the Chinese believed rabbits lived on the moon and could be used in auguries as omens of the future. They symbolize the Yin force.”
“That fits.” Tula nodded, her face solemn and her eyes almost black. “Yin is the dark force.”
“In most cultures,” Cassie continued, “the hare is associated with fertility and speed. If a hare crossed your path, it was considered unlucky because witches turned themselves into hares.”
“I thought it was cats.” Tula frowned. “Still, we’re getting somewhere. Witches and Yin, eh?”
Cassie sighed, but failed to see how any of it helped. She had expected Tula to make some sense of the miscellaneous jumble of information she had uncovered.
“The Teutons believe Eostre, the goddess of Spring and fertility, created the rabbit, and in gratitude, the rabbit laid colored eggs each year for her spring festival. The Egyptians saw the rabbit as a sign defining being.”
“Well the egg bit explains your Easter customs, but a symbol of being? That’s more interesting.” Tula stared off into space and tapped her pendant.
The bell at the front rang, and Tula pushed back her chair. “I’ll be back — don’t go away.” She hurried off, her orange printed skirt swirling, to seat her new customers.
Cassie poured another cup of tea. Nothing she had learned brought her any nearer to understanding the dream rabbit. Instead, the more she discovered, the more puzzled she grew. According to Tula she had the key, but she had no idea what it unlocked or how to use it. She studied her tea as if somehow that brown liquid held the knowledge she so desperately wanted.
By the time Tula returned some fifteen minutes later with a fresh pot of Tula’s Special, Cassie had finished her sandwich and her tea. She pushed her empty cup over to Tula.
Tula poured them each a cup of the steaming, fresh tea. “I’m sorry that took so long. Now tell me, did you learn anything else?”
Focusing on her notes again, Cassie sorted through them. “More of the same. The Hebrews thought rabbits unclean. Others were more mixed. Rabbits or hares were considered ambivalen
t, amoral, or moral, take your choice. Catholic monks raised rabbits because they could eat them during Lent because they weren’t regarded as meat.” She sighed as she shoved the cards back into to her purse. “No help at all.”
“Don’t be too hasty. You’ve mentioned several things that fit your dreams. Those bits about auguries, Yin, and witches hang together. I remember you said the rabbit was evil.”
Cassie nodded. “I thought so. I also sensed intense hatred.”
“Then the moral ambivalence might fit too.” Tula tapped her chin, her eyes thoughtful. “Yes, amoral sounds just like your rabbit.”
“Don’t call it my rabbit. It’s not my rabbit. It’s Ian McLeod’s rabbit.”
“All right, Cassie, Ian McLeod’s rabbit. I suspect you may be getting a better picture of the person or thing the rabbit represents than you realize.”
“How? An augury for what, of what?”
Tula sighed. “I can’t tell you. I don’t have enough information. The answer may lie in Ian McLeod’s background. You’ll have to learn more about him.”
“That’s a big help.” Cassie snorted. “After today, he’ll never want to see me again. Let somebody else deal with the rabbit. I’ve done all I can for Ian McLeod. He’s on his own.”
Tula smiled. “Perhaps, perhaps not.”
Reaching down, Cassie picked up her bag. “I’ve got the late shift today, so I’d better get going. Thanks for letting me dump on you.”
“That’s what friends are for. Don’t be too quick to give up. I’m sure the answer will come to you.”
“I’d much rather it went to someone else. I just want to be left alone. Well, I have to run.” Cassie picked up her check, and they both rose.
At the cash register, Tula gave Cassie her change, a thoughtful look on her face. She lifted the sun pendant from her neck and placed it over Cassie’s head, positioning the disk in the center of her chest. “I want you to wear this. Light banishes darkness.”
“Tula,” Cassie gasped, “it’s yours. I don’t ever remember seeing you without it.” She stared down at the pendant and then up at her friend.
The unexpected gift pleased, yet also worried Cassie. Worried her, because the gift implied Tula felt she had something to fear. That her friend trusted her with something that had always been such a part of Tula herself amazed Cassie. She clutched the hard disc as she gazed up at her friend.
Tula patted Cassie’s shoulder. “Right now you need it more than I do. Please, it will make me feel better if you wear it. And don’t go out without it, you hear?”
Cassie laughed. “Yes, Mother, I hear.”
Tula smiled back. “We’ll lick this rabbit yet. May your day be bright, and may you walk in light.”
“With this, I’m sure to,” Cassie responded.
When she reached the door, she turned and waved, her left hand clutching Tula’s pendant. Tula grinned and waved back.
* * * *
Ian had picked Sharon up from her office at seven, and now they sat in the small dining room of the Adams Tavern enjoying their before dinner drinks. He sipped his usual single malt whiskey and leaned back, savoring the smoky flavor of the amber liquid. He set the glass down.
“This had been one hell of a day. A crazy woman invaded my office to tell me a rabbit is trying to kill me.”
“A rabbit?” Sharon stared at him, her hazel eyes wide.
Ian nodded, keeping his face straight. “She dreams about me.”
Sharon stiffened as she twined her fingers around the stem of her martini glass. “I’m not sure I like that. What kind of a woman was she?”
“Oh the mousy sort, kind of short with long hair, that sort.”
Sharon narrowed her eyes at his terse description. “Was she pretty?”
He smiled — Sharon had been much too sure about him. “I’m not sure. She had nice eyes.”
Glaring at him, Sharon sipped her vodka martini.
“Anyway, I tossed her out and told her to stay away. MaryLou won’t let her in again.”
Sharon nodded, but her eyes remained serious. “You know, Ian, there are a lot strange people out there. With your picture in the paper, a story like that could draw out some jealous people.”
He patted her hand. “Don’t worry. I can take care of myself. Besides, how much of a threat can one small woman pose? She couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds, clothes and all.”
As he sipped his whiskey, he remembered his initial impressions of Cassie Blake. “You know at first, I almost began to believe her. She was so serious, but then when she talked about dreams and rabbits, I lost it. I’ll probably have to have the carpet cleaned too.”
“The carpet?” Sharon raised one perfect eyebrow. “Why?”
“As she started to leave, she suddenly tackled me and dumped my coffee all over the floor. Just missed my suit. Maybe I should send her the bill for cleaning the carpet.”
“Well, it might teach her a lesson, but it would mean contacting her again. I don’t think you should, Ian. If she’s unbalanced, the less you see of her the better. Seeing you would only reinforce her delusions, but why did she do it?”
He grimaced. “She claimed the coffee was poisoned. I suppose after telling me someone wanted to kill me, she wanted to prove her point.”
“By spilling your coffee?”
“Look, the woman was irrational. Who knows what goes on in such a mind? You’re right, of course, about not contacting her. One such encounter is more than enough. The carpet needed cleaning anyway.”
Sharon sipped her martini. “Mom asked if you would like to come for Easter dinner.”
Ian suppressed a groan. The one thing he regretted about marrying Sharon was her mother. Mrs. Gannet had a penchant for nonstop chatter about the stupidest things and insisted everything be done her way. He and Sharon would either split holidays between their respective families or, even better, spend them away on their own.
“I can’t, Sharon.” He mentally scrambled, trying to think of a good excuse.
“Are you going to your mother’s?”
“No, it’s too far for such a short time.” He had to think of something. Then he remembered Bob Rantry’s letter. “The Chamber of Commerce asked for volunteers. I told Bob Rantry I’d spend a few hours serving dinners to the homeless.”
“Really, Ian, are you sure you want to do that? You never know what kind of people might come.”
“Look, I’ve always turned them down in the past, and, after the award they gave me, well, I think it’s time I helped out a little.”
She frowned. “I suppose we could have a late dinner.”
“I wouldn’t do that, Sharon. We may run late, and then there’s the clean up. Tell your mother I’m sorry, but I can’t make it.”
Ian leaned back, satisfied he had found the perfect means to avoid Mrs. Gannet. Bob Rantry would be more than happy to have another volunteer. He’d call Bob first thing tomorrow.
“I’ve been working on a guest list for the wedding,” Sharon said. “I should call your mother about anyone she wants invited.”
“I suppose.”
“You don’t sound very enthusiastic. Having second thoughts?”
“Of course not, it’s just that I hate big affairs and fussing. Go ahead and call her. I’m sure she’ll be glad to hear from you. I’ll be happy with whatever the two of you decide.”
He hoped Sharon would keep it a small wedding. His mother would probably insist on asking all the aunts, uncles, and cousins, but, even with that, he couldn’t imagine more than about twenty-five people. Besides, big weddings cost a lot of money, and he had been putting everything he could back into the business.
“About the honeymoon,” Sharon continued. “I was thinking about St. Croix or maybe Aruba.”
“Oh?” Ian stared at her with surprise. “I don’t make a good beach bum. What about London? We could take in a few shows.”
“Ian, you need time to relax and unwind. London can still be a little cool. I
want you away from the telephone and fax machine.”
He blinked. “Come on, Sharon, you really think I’d do that on our honeymoon?”
“Well, I hope not, but my ex did. It’s one of the reasons he’s ex. I want all your attention.” She held his hand and smiled at him, her eyes now more green than hazel.
Squeezing her hand, he raised it and kissed it. “I’ll do my best.”
Yet a sense of unease tugged at him. He couldn’t get Cassie Blake and her frightened eyes out of his mind. It only added to his feelings of being pushed in ways he couldn’t identify. The wedding bore down upon him like an avalanche. He still hadn’t talked to his brother David yet. The last time he had tried to call, David had been out of town. He knew he should be more persistent in trying to reach him.
Guilt nibbled at him and whispered in his ear, ‘No best man, no wedding.’
What was the matter with him? He had always met events head on. He had dealt with Harrison as soon as he learned about the shortages. With his business back in order, he had decided to focus on the future, on marriage, and on marriage to Sharon. Nothing had changed.
Lately, he hadn’t been sleeping well. Snatches of half-remembered dreams haunted him on waking, but he could never quite make them out. Memories of excitement and fear, but not the cause taunted him. At off moments in his office, he stared at the tapestry trying to regain those images, but failed. It irritated him to have experienced something and then lost it.
“Ian, did you hear me?”
“What? I’m sorry, Sharon. What did you say?”
“I asked if you wanted a sit-down dinner or a buffet for the reception.”
“Either is fine with me.” Then he thought of the number of people and the cost. “No, a buffet is probably better. People will mix more.”
The hostess led a couple to a nearby table. As they passed, Ian started. The young woman had long brown hair and wore a floral print skirt. Had Cassie Blake followed him here?
He peered toward the woman, trying to get a better look. She raised her head and gazed back, an appraising look in her eyes. Ian looked away at once. No, it wasn’t Cassie Blake. Not nearly as pretty, and she had brown eyes instead of frightened blue ones.