by Lori Wilde
Mentally, I braced for whatever was coming. And something was definitely coming.
“You and Mr. Bellisaro...have you met before?”
Crap. “What makes you ask that?” Dodging the question bought me some time to come up with a plausible answer.
“There is a certain chemistry between the two of you. A powerful connection.” Her green eyes narrowed. “So have you met? Prior to the interview?”
I squirmed in my chair, which suddenly felt tight and sticky. “Um, not that I recall.” I might as well have been strapped to a lie detector because the truth was written all over my lie. I know she saw it. She didn’t blink for a scary-long time. Then she leaned back and rested her hands on the desk. “The only way this will work, Ms. Dultry, is if you are willing to be open and truthful with me.”
I wasn’t willing to discuss Troy with her any more than I wanted to talk about Darcy, but between the two, the second was less likely to get me fired. I cleared my throat. “I am. I just think we should concentrate on my dreams. Maybe you could start by telling me how you know so much about them?” I should have been a tennis pro because I’d hit the ball squarely back in her court. A wild thought occurred to me. Maybe she had some kind of psychic abilities. It wasn’t that crazy of an idea considering the setting.
“Fair enough,” she said. “I will tell you, but first I have some questions for you. Can you tell me about the last dream you remember?”
Crossing one leg over the other, I leaned forward. “You mean, in detail?”
She smiled that smile I’d already grown to dislike. The one that meant more uncomfortable probing was coming.
“In as much detail as you’re comfortable sharing.”
That’s not what she really meant. If it were, we wouldn’t be here at all. Because none of this was comfortable. It was dream analysis on steroids, and it was completely unnecessary.
“Would you say you have a fairly intimate relationship with this man?”
Whoa, personal. And how did she know there was a man? Ohmygod, maybe she was psychic. Getting defensive was one of my strengths, but she might as well have asked me about my sexual preferences, or how much money I had in the bank...the answer to both would be none. Any one of which would have been preferable to discussing my dreams of Darcy with her. But at least this got her off the subject of Troy. I cleared my throat. “His name is Darcy. And yes. It’s pretty intimate. I mean, it is a dream, right.” I laughed a little.
She didn’t.
“Is it?” she asked.
I paused and then frowned. “Isn’t it? Sorry, not sure what you’re trying to say here.”
“I asked you a simple question, Nora. Is it a dream?”
“Isn’t it?”
“You cannot answer a question with a question. That’s called avoidance. Is it or is it not a dream?” she pushed.
“I think so.”
“More avoiding. Answer the question, Nora.”
“Well, I mean, yes, of course it is, it’s just...” I swallowed and gazed out the window. “It’s never felt like a dream. It’s always felt real.”
That was why I’d kept every other guy at football field’s length. Because I was already involved with someone. The fact that he didn’t exist where anyone else could see him was merely semantics. He was real to me. And so was our relationship.
“You aren’t being completely honest with me, Nora.” She pulled her glasses off and massaged the bridge of her nose. For the first time I saw a glimmer of impatience seep through her very carefully constructed mask of indifference. “In order for any of this to work, you are going to need to be straight with me.”
Something about her directness triggered me. My blood pressure rose, and so did my voice. Despite Kenzie’s pep talk, resentment took root and grew like a noxious weed. “Okay, here’s your honesty... I honestly don’t know why the hell I’m here. I mean in order for what to work exactly, what is this supposed to be for? I’m not crazy, and I don’t need therapy. I’m fine.”
Grace sighed and pushed back her chair to stand. Then she paced to the window and back. “Yes. You’re correct. There is nothing wrong with you. But that is not what you believe, is it? You haven’t had a real boyfriend ever, in your waking life. You shy away from commitments and relationships, anything at all that ties you to something or binds you to anything long term. Your parents were killed in a crime of passion, and you were raised by your grandparents. From five years of age onward, you saw the dark and violent side of love, and then watched the other side, as your Grandfather slowly went insane with grief from the loss of his wife when she succumbed to breast cancer.”
I sucked in a slow gasp and blinked back tears. No one. I mean, no one knew my entire life story. How did this woman, who’d only just met me a week ago, know so much about a life I’d managed to keep hidden for years? A life I barely remembered myself, at least not the part about my parents. No one had given me much detail back then, but I remember hearing the TV news reporter describe it as a ‘crime of passion that took two lives,’ before Granddad could reach the remote to change the channel. Either Grace had done some serious stalking, or she really was gifted with some kind of psychic abilities. Whichever it was, I was even less inclined to share more than she already knew.
“You’ve witnessed both sides of love for yourself. And whether you realize it or not, you see it as a destructive force, and you refuse to let it into your life. But you are wasting yours in the process.”
I slapped a fist against my thigh, tears stinging the corner of my eyes. “I am here for a summer job. Why is any of this your concern?”
“Because.” She turned to face me, her own eyes watery from held-back tears. If I wasn’t already sitting down, I might have fallen over from shock. “I know what demons plague you, and I made a vow not to let the past take another girl from this world too soon.”
I shook my head. “Demons,” I repeated the word numbly. And what did she mean, take?
Grace Strange walked back to her desk and straightened her skirt before sitting down. She seemed to come back into herself. Back to her counselor role. Reaching across the desk, she picked up a framed photograph and gave it to me. It was a girl who looked a lot like me, only younger. Long jet-black hair, olive skin, round turquoise eyes the color of sea glass, like mine. I stared at the photo with a prickle of fear, and the faint sense of recognition, as if I’d seen her before. “Who is this?”
“She’s my daughter. Was. Was my daughter,” she said, taking back the photo. It was as if she feared losing her all over again if I held it for too long.
“I’m sorry. She’s so young.” My gaze lifted to hers. “How did she die?” We were sharing pieces of ourselves after all; it seemed a fair question to ask.
“She didn’t die, Nora. She’s just no longer here. Gone four years now.”
“Oh. So, she moved?” I frowned. “Can’t you just go and visit, wherever she is?”
Her eyes clouded over, and she gazed past me at an invisible point behind me. “Not exactly a where. Not exactly a when.”
When her gaze snapped back to mine, it were razor-sharp and filled with purpose.
“She chose to live in another place. A place no one can reach her ever again,” she sighed, staring at the photo.
“Her dreams.”
Chapter Fourteen
You know, when you’ve felt crazy for most of your life, you get pretty good at recognizing the symptoms in other people. I was sitting on the edge of my seat, realizing I needed to get out of this woman’s office, now. Yet, I was frozen in place, listening to her brand of crazy that made mine sound pretty mundane.
I pressed my hands on the desk and leaned in. “I don’t get it. What do you mean her dreams?” Was this some kind of cross speak? An obscure euphemism for…who knows what?
Grace reached across the desk and grabbed both of my hands. “Nora. She’s trapped there. She made a choice, and she chose to stay. I want you to find something to stay here in this
world for. Love. Your grandfather. This job. Your future. I don’t care what it is. But you must choose to remain here.”
I shook my head, tugging my hands free. Her grip tightened before she released me.
“My daughter Celeste dreamed of a man, one she believed she loved. He took her from this world. But she had a purpose in this life, and I believe you have a purpose as well. Don’t you want to be free from the demon haunting you?”
“What is it with everyone and my higher purpose suddenly?” If I wasn’t so annoyed and disturbed, I’d add that Darcy was hardly a demon. But this didn’t seem the time, since apparently my counselor needed a counselor of her own.
“Maybe your higher purpose is to unlock the puzzle of your own mind, Nora. Something is holding you captive. Wouldn’t you like to be free from it?”
“I don’t know,” I sighed, the fight dissipating. Did freedom entail giving up my dreams entirely? Because I wasn’t sure that’s what I wanted. I’d much rather have a different ending to them. And if I was honest, I wasn’t ready to let my fictitious relationship with Darcy go. Not when it was as close to true love as I’d ever been. Sure, I could see myself falling in love with Troy, but that was crazy, and there was no way it was mutual. He was as no-strings as they came. He had to be. But lately I was beginning to wonder if Kenzie was right. Maybe my Darcy crush was holding me back.
I nibbled my lip. “So how does this work exactly? Becoming free?”
In this moment, with her eyes wild and wide and her hair untucked from its pristine bun, Grace looked less like a school counselor and more like a mystic fortune-teller that gave readings at the county fair.
“It’s called dreamwalking, and the energies are lining up to support this event.” Her pupils dilated as she spoke, which sent chills skittering down my spine.
“The man you dream of will step from your dreams into your real waking life, to bring you back to his. And that is when you will need to make some firm decisions about your relationship with this man.”
I stared at her, then blinked. “You mean that metaphysically, not literally. Right?”
She just watched me.
Not this again. “You can’t seriously believe he’s actually going to appear here, in the flesh?”
Again, more silence.
Well, this was all the crazy I could handle for one day.
I shoved back my chair. “I’m really sorry for your loss, Miss Strange.” Boy, was she well named. “But I don’t really think this,” I gestured back and forth from her to me, “is a very good idea. Clearly, it’s too painful for you. So, I, uh, think I better go.” I headed for the door.
In a flash she was up and in front of me, blocking my path.
“You made an agreement. A commitment. Leave now and you throw everything away,” she warned. The wild look in her eyes had returned. Chills chased up and down my skin as she refused to let me leave.
“Grace. I have to go.” I narrowed my eyes. “Move out of my way.”
“You’ll lose your job. You’ll lose your life. You’ll lose everything.” Her voice pitched higher, bordering on deranged manic.
“I don’t care.” I shouted. “Now move. Please.” My hands balled at my sides, and my heart hammered at my chest. I drew a deep breath. “I will scream if I have to.”
She frowned, and I swear I could see a million different thoughts pass through her eyes. Not one of them good. Then she stepped to the side.
The door swung open on its own. I would have stopped to wonder at that, had I not been over my totally-freaked-out capacity already. I darted past her, ran back to my cabin, and deadbolted the door behind me. I didn’t care that I had a roomie who might want in. I needed to be alone. Just for a while.
I went up to change out of the clean shirt I’d put on to meet with Grace, and into some comfy clothes. Then back on the main floor, I paced like a caged animal for some time, eventually dropping onto the couch as exhaustion took over. My body hurt. My brain hurt. Everything felt weird and strange and numb. Like I’d been sucked into a vortex in some other realm, where up was down, hot was cold and crazy was the new black. I hated this feeling, but I couldn’t shake it. The worst part was I knew why I couldn’t shake it. Because something in her crazy insane words rang true. That terrified me more than any of the rest of it. I lay back against the cushion and covered my face with my arms.
Before long, I fell asleep and slipped into a dream. A lavender field filled with fragrant blossoms. Darcy came to me, carrying a massive bouquet of blood-red roses and wearing a tuxedo, a top hat, and a warm grin. He was about to lean in and kiss me when my body collided with something hard. I opened my eyes to find myself on the floor wedged between the couch and coffee table. My elbow ached, and my thumbnail was broken and bleeding.
“Nice work, klutz.” I muttered, climbing back onto the couch. Something vibrated under me. I dug my phone out of my pocket and looked at the screen. It was the hospital business office calling. Again. I sighed and hit ignore. I knew what they wanted, no need to answer and go through it all again. It was a well-timed reminder that I was bound to this agreement, as weird as it all was. I couldn’t leave this job. Not with so much money coming in. A few more weeks of teaching at this freak-show summer school, and I’d have enough to clear all of Granddad’s bills, get him into a better facility closer to campus, and find an apartment before fall semester. And though everything in me wanted to bail, like yesterday…I couldn’t. I had to stay.
I scrubbed a hand over my face. The cottage was darker now. How long was I asleep? I had no idea what time it was or how long I’d been out, but the firm knock at the door startled away all thoughts of time.
I stuck my throbbing thumbnail into my mouth and opened the door without bothering to ask who it was. Of course the second I opened it, I wanted to smack myself for not asking first.
Troy stood in the doorway, one hand casually pressed against the frame, a crooked grin on his dashing face. “Hi, Nora.”
Panic kicked in, of course, so instead of replying with something normal, like ‘hello,’ I started fixing my hair, which was sticking up in the back.
He watched me hastily groom myself until I stopped. “Hey,” I finally said when I remembered what a dork I must look like. “Sorry, you caught me—”
“Sleeping?” He looked amused by my flustered state, until his gaze drifted to my thumb, still pulsing tiny beadlets of blood.
I wiped it off on my shorts.
He took my injured hand and pressed my thumb to his lips. Then he leaned in closer, and his lips brushed mine. It was so brief, I wasn’t sure it had happened at all, except for the way my heart was racing.
“No, just relaxing and I fell off the couch and, uh...nevermind. Want to come in?” I moved to the side to let him enter. It was too late to worry about how I looked. You can’t unmilk a milked cow, or whatever Granddad used to say.
After hesitating for a second, Troy stepped in. “I came to see if you were alright. You looked flustered earlier, and you weren’t at this afternoon’s rehearsal.”
Damn. What time was it? “Sorry about that, I totally spaced. But I’m fine, thanks.” I said, padding into the kitchen. It was easier to play hostess here than back in my apartment, where the fridge had something other than day-old donuts and questionable dairy products.
He studied me briefly, before venturing deeper into the room. “Good. I know Grace can be pushy at times.”
“Ha. You don’t know the half of it.” I tilted my head to watch him. Or maybe he did. His brows were furrowed, and he clearly had something on his mind. But then he often looked like something heavy was on his mind. He turned back to look at me, and it was almost as if he wanted to tell me something but was hesitating. Then the moment, whatever it was, passed.
He was such a hard one to read. Some people were open books, wore their emotions on their sleeve. But Troy, he was all kinds of mystifying. Wonder if there’s a way into his secrets. Immediately, I remembered my own vault of secre
ts, and I shut down the idea. Mine were impenetrable to anyone who wasn’t Grace Strange; why wouldn’t his be as well?
Chapter Fifteen
I watched Troy survey the living room. A place that despite our limited accessories, we’d managed to make look almost homey. Well, Kenzie had. I’d pretty much gone along with her decisions. Her money, her choices. Sort of had a Sex in the City meets Little House on the Prairie vibe going on.
He had to have noticed the dozen or so camp rule infractions, just on the main floor alone. Not even I could count how many rules Kenzie broke up in her room. Including the no boys/no sex rule. That one bit the dust week one. Though the no co-mingling with staff rule was one we were both sort of guilty of breaking.
I stuck my head in the fridge. “Can I get you a soda or something? Chocolate milkshake, fruit juice, maple syrup? Anything with sugar, we’ve got it.”
He shook his head. “Not fans of the green juice and kale smoothies I take it.”
I made a face, shutting the door, then grabbed a bottle from Kenzie’s stock. “Not so much. But we do have green apple vodka, so...”
He laughed, and his gaze drifted to the staircase, the one leading up to my bedroom. “Are we alone?”
I set the bottle down as my heartbeat picked up tempo. “Yep. Just us.”
Silence descended, thick with innuendo. I nibbled my lower lip, and his eyes darkened as he watched me.
“I should go.” He said it abruptly, as though being here was suddenly making him very uncomfortable. It wasn’t like there was anyone to punish him if he got caught rule-fracturing. He owned the place.
I frowned. “Okay, sure. But why? Worried about getting fired?” I teased.
His half-smile gave me a shiver. “I do have a board of directors to answer to,” he said. “But that’s not it. I just don’t think being here is a good idea.” We’d done a pretty good job of keeping the small fire that scorched between us under control so far. Part of me liked knowing maybe I wasn’t the only one struggling with it.