What Dreams May Lie

by Alana Terry

  He cleared his throat. “I’ll see you soon. I mean, maybe I’ll see you soon.” Why was he so breathless? He straightened himself out, made sure there was nothing else he was about to fall over, and panted, “I’m going to the house to check on her now. Bye.”

  CHAPTER 40

  YOU’RE THE STUPIDEST girl in the state of Washington, Jillian thought to herself. Why had she told Connie she’d tuck these dumb goats in for the night?

  She should be at the hospital with Grandma Lucy. Why had she refused to go?

  The goats were just her excuse. She’d been afraid of what might happen, so she told Connie she’d stay home and take care of the animals. Well, everyone was in the barn now, those stupid goats with their loud bleating and smelly hay and stubborn ways. All except Peaches.

  Jillian would kill that animal. She really would.

  Jillian had been trying to coax her inside for half an hour at least. With one hand she held the barn door shut so all the other animals didn’t escape, and with the other she kept stretching toward Peaches who stayed just out of reach.

  Stupid animal.

  Stupid farm.

  Stupid town.

  Well, at least she wouldn’t have to stick around here anymore. Problem solved.

  But what about Grandma Lucy? What if something happened to her ...

  No, Jillian wasn’t going to think like that. Grandma Lucy was a woman of prayer. God wouldn’t let someone like her die.

  Oh, who was she kidding? Women Grandma Lucy’s age died all the time. In fact, it was something of a miracle Grandma Lucy hadn’t passed away last winter when she’d had all those heart problems.

  It wasn’t fair. Jillian had told Grandma Lucy about the doctor’s visit. Was that what finally killed her?

  Was praying for Jillian Grandma Lucy’s very last act on earth?

  God, you can’t take her away from me.

  It was too terrible for Jillian to fathom. Who would pray for her once Grandma Lucy died? Who would spend hours in this barn, pouring her heart out to God for Jillian to heal from the wounds of her past?

  Wounds not even Grandma Lucy knew about ...

  I didn’t tell her everything. Jillian shot out the prayer to heaven in a desperate attempt to catch the Lord’s attention.

  I didn’t tell her everything! she repeated. There’s more I need to say.

  Jillian had suffered the past three months in lonesome, torturous silence. It’s what her parents expected of her. It’s what every lesson in her upbringing taught her.

  You don’t expose the dark and the hideous.

  You smile and pretend like everything’s all right.

  Jillian went months refusing to talk about what happened. She hadn’t even told her parents.

  But she wanted Grandma Lucy to know.

  Did you hear that God? You can’t take her home yet.

  Hot tears seared her cheeks. Peaches looked up at her with a mournful expression but still refused to step any closer.

  God, don’t let Grandma Lucy die.

  She needs to know the truth.

  CHAPTER 41

  “JILLIAN? ARE YOU OUT here?”

  She tried to jump up. She didn’t know who was here, but she didn’t want them to find her sitting in a pile of dirty hay on a barn floor petting a stupid goat.

  A goat who had finally allowed herself to be led into the barn once Jillian found some sunflower seeds to lure her in with.

  “Jillian?”

  Peaches was too heavy. Grateful for the coveted snack, the animal had nuzzled against Jillian until they both ended up on the ground, with Peaches resting her head comfortably on Jillian’s lap.

  There wasn’t any time to move before the barn door opened.

  She tried to hide her embarrassment. “Hey.”

  At least she was leaving Orchard Grove. She’d never see Ricky again after tonight, so it shouldn’t matter what he thought about stumbling in on her cuddling a goat. A goat who apparently thought it was a giant lapdog.

  A giant, stinky lapdog.

  “You okay?” He cocked his head to the side, and Jillian could just picture him wondering if she’d truly lost her mind.

  Any longer stuck here in Orchard Grove, and she might.

  “I’m fine. She’s just ...” Jillian tried to push Peaches’ head off her legs, but the goat refused to budge.

  Stubborn animal.

  Ricky squatted down beside her and scratched Peaches between the ears. Jillian could have sworn the goat wagged her tail.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Ricky cleared his throat. “I was just, you know. And your grandmother. At the County.”

  She stared at him. Was something wrong with her hearing, or had the poor boy lost the ability to communicate whatsoever?

  He cleared his throat and tried again. “I went over to the hospital when I heard. About Grandma Lucy. I mean, your grandma, not mine. And, well, I got worried that maybe you were here lonely or maybe you wanted a ride to go see her or ...” He let out his breath, and his shoulders sagged. “I thought maybe you could use a friend.”

  Jillian stared at the hay on the floor. Thoughtful as he was to come and check on her, he didn’t need to see her turn into a hysterical mess.

  Not now.

  Not here.

  Not him.

  “That was nice,” she replied. “But I don’t need anything.”

  He continued rubbing the goat’s head absently. “That’s good. I mean, I was worried, and I wanted to check ...” He didn’t finish his thought, which was fine.

  Jillian preferred the silence anyway.

  “So.” He lost his balance and ended up sitting on the floor beside her. Peaches snorted and rolled over slightly so her back was pressed up against him. “Do you want me to drive you to the hospital?”

  Jillian let out her breath. The last place she wanted to be was there, with Grandma Lucy so sick and weak ...

  But hadn’t she just prayed for the chance to tell her grandmother the full truth?

  She stood up. Peaches’ head plopped onto the floor. The goat flicked her ears, then adjusted herself until she was resting on Ricky’s lap.

  Jillian dusted off her pants. She didn’t want to look like a hillbilly covered in hay when she went to see her grandmother.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Let’s go to the hospital.”

  CHAPTER 42

  RICKY HAD A HARD TIME understanding why he felt so protective of Jillian. If anything, shouldn’t he be curious, trying to find out if she really was pregnant or not?

  Then again, would it change anything? When she was ready to talk about it, she would. Right?

  Not my business, he told himself as he opened the side door and helped her into his pickup.

  If she moved out to Orchard Grove to avoid the gossip and everything else that would come from being a pregnant, unwed pastor’s daughter, he didn’t want to add to her problems.

  Not my business, he repeated, reminding himself that their date really hadn’t been a date after all, and the time he finally did get up the courage to ask her out for real, she’d turned him down.

  Not my business.

  It didn’t matter if Jillian never saw him as anything more than the awkward, gangly boy who went to her father’s church a long time ago.

  What mattered was that she was all alone in a town of gossips who already had it out for her family. Her grandmother was being treated in the emergency room at County Hospital, and more than anyone else he could think of, Jillian McAllister needed a friend.

  Everything else — her pregnancy (or at least the rumors of it), her rejection earlier today, her declaration that she was leaving Orchard Grove — was her business, not his.

  He had one job right now. Get Jillian to see her grandmother. He’d do it for a stranger in a heartbeat, and he certainly wouldn’t expect anything in return.

  A friend.

  He was being her friend.

  The friend she so desperately needed.


  And nothing more.

  So why were his palms so sweaty he was worried his hands might slip off the steering wheel?

  Not my business, he thought when he found himself wondering who the father of her child might be. And how long ago had she gotten pregnant, anyway? She certainly didn’t look like she could fit a full-sized baby in there.

  And what if his mom was wrong? There were lots of reasons a girl Jillian’s age could end up at the doctor’s office. He had to stop thinking about it. Clearing his throat, he searched his mind for something he could say. Anything to make conversation.

  Talk about the weather. Ask her about her day ...

  “So has Grandma Lucy been pregnant for very long?”

  Jillian snapped her head. “What?”

  “I mean, sick. Her heart. I mean, has that been going on for very long?”

  She crossed her arms. “That’s not what you said.”

  His left leg was bouncing faster than a jackhammer. At least it wasn’t the foot he needed for the gas.

  He didn’t dare look but felt her glaring at him.

  He licked his lips. He had to explain himself. “I’m sorry. I was thinking about the goats and got Peaches mixed up with your grandmother.”

  This time, she didn’t even bother to ask what he meant. Even though he kept his eyes fixed squarely on the road ahead, he felt her angry, accusing glower.

  His skin prickled. This wasn’t going well at all.

  “That’s not quite what I meant. I just remembered your aunt telling me you were pregnant ... I mean, your aunt told me the goat was pregnant. Peaches, the goat, and then I was thinking about Peaches being pregnant — not you, because why would I think that? — but then I was wondering how your grandmother was, and sometimes my words get jumbled up with my thoughts, and it all gets a little confusing, and ...”

  He wiped his sweaty palm on his jeans. “And, well, I’m sorry. I know your grandmother’s not pregnant. But the goat is.”

  He let out a nervous chuckle then cleared his throat. “Sorry,” he muttered.

  When she didn’t respond, he continued to flounder for the right thing to say. Anything to cover up such a terrible and embarrassing slip.

  “So let me get this straight. Grandma Lucy’s not pregnant, but the goat is. Did I finally get that right?”

  Jillian’s arms were crossed, her voice devoid of all emotion. “I guess it was stupid to think it could stay secret for long. You want to know the truth? Fine. I’ll tell you.”

  CHAPTER 43

  “CAN WE GO NOW” JILLIAN asked with her hand on the door handle. “Please?”

  She still hated herself for telling Ricky the truth. What business of his was it? But she was so worried about Grandma Lucy, so upset she hadn’t told her everything. And Ricky had been treating her so kindly, even after she was rude earlier.

  Then he looked so sad when she mentioned the urine test, how she’d started bleeding earlier that day, and then the entire story came pouring out.

  Every detail.

  Including how she ended up pregnant to start with.

  Did he realize he was the only person in the world who knew?

  But he promised not to tell anyone and seemed so earnest. Earnest and compassionate and concerned.

  So why did she feel even worse now that the truth was out in the open?

  Now that they were here in front of the hospital, all Jillian wanted to do was go see her Grandma and forget about how stupid she’d been to tell her entire life history to a near stranger.

  Ricky hopped out of the truck. “Wait there,” he said. “I’ll come let you out.”

  Jillian rolled her eyes and opened the door for herself while he wrestled with the seatbelt that was holding his sleeve hostage.

  “Are you okay?” he asked when he saw her standing on the curb. “Do you need anything?”

  I need to go see my grandmother. She left the thought unspoken.

  She headed toward the hospital entrance, and he sprinted to catch up to her. “Are you going to make it? I mean, is it painful or anything?”

  She shrugged. “Doctor said it’ll pass out on its own, probably in the next few days.”

  She didn’t glance over to gauge his reaction. Whatever little schoolboy crush Ricky might have had on her, he certainly would realize by now that she wasn’t his type.

  Jillian knew exactly what became of boys like Ricky Fields. They became nice, respectable businessmen, and they married sweet, godly, mild-mannered Christian women who kept house and baked bread and raised half a dozen babies or more.

  Not girls like Jillian. Girls who could talk about something like a miscarriage — something that would be devastating to a model Christian housewife — in such clinical terms without feeling anything at all.

  No, that wasn’t right either.

  The moment Dr. Morrison failed to detect the heartbeat, she had felt something.

  Relief.

  No appointments or endless piles of paperwork with the adoption agency.

  No stretch marks or bloating or weight gain.

  No more indigestion.

  No more forced exile here in Orchard Grove.

  Dr. Morrison wanted her to make an appointment to confirm the miscarriage with an ultrasound, but what was the point? The spotting turned to bleeding an hour after the appointment. Her child was gone. She hadn’t told her parents yet. After the way they kicked her out, she wasn’t even sure she was going to.

  Ricky held open the door to the hospital. She hesitated for just a moment. Was she ready for this?

  Well, it didn’t matter.

  Ready or not, Jillian wasn’t going to keep her grandmother waiting any longer.

  CHAPTER 44

  “GRANDMA?” JILLIAN COULD hear the wavering in her own voice and hated herself for it. Grandma Lucy needed her to be strong. The ER doctor’s initial assessment had been anything but promising. With all the fluid around Grandma Lucy’s heart, he told the family to be prepared if she didn’t survive the night. Connie and Uncle Dennis were out in the lobby calling in any of the relatives within driving distance to come say their goodbyes.

  Jillian still couldn’t believe it. People like Grandma Lucy didn’t die. Or if they did, their deaths were quick and painless and peaceful, not long, drawn-out battles in hospital rooms.

  Jillian took a few tentative steps toward the bedside. “Grandma?” she repeated.

  Her grandmother blinked at her. How could a woman as timeless as Grandma Lucy age two decades in one evening?

  Jillian sniffed. If she hadn’t been so stupid, she wouldn’t have blabbed everything about the pregnancy to Ricky on the way here. She needed all her emotional strength just to get through the next few minutes.

  She wasn’t ready. She would never be ready. Not for this.

  She picked up Grandma Lucy’s hand. Where was the strength in her grip? Where was the warmth that always emanated from her touch?

  “Can you hear me?” Jillian asked in such a small voice she could hardly hear herself.

  Grandma Lucy nodded faintly. Her white hair lay in matted clumps against the colorless pillowcase. Jillian had never been one who craved physical affection. So why did she wish to curl up on Grandma Lucy’s bed and wrap the old woman in one last hug?

  Then again, Grandma Lucy looked so frail and weak Jillian was afraid that if she so much as sneezed she might blow the last breath out of her at any moment.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, squeezing Grandma Lucy’s hand. “I’m so sorry. There’s so much more I wanted to tell you.” She sniffed and ignored the tears that streaked down her cheeks. She knew she must look like a mess and probably smelled even worse after spending the past hour in the barn with the silly goat who thought she was a puppy, but what did her appearance matter? Ricky was the only person she knew besides family here, and she was certain that after what she told him in the car, she had permanently cured him of any misplaced crush he had on her.

  She looked down at her g
randmother. How could a woman whose soul was so strong and powerful look this tiny, like a handheld fan could blow her away?

  She hated the feel of Grandma Lucy’s limp, lifeless hand. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” she admitted. “I guess I want you to know how thankful I am that you’ve always been there for me. Even today, you prayed for me instead of judging me for what I’ve gone through. I wish ...” She sniffed and glanced around the room to see if there were any tissues. “I wish more Christians could be like you. It’s hard, you know. I’ve blamed God for the way the people here treated my family and me. Honestly, my spiritual life hasn’t been the same since then, but I look at you, and I think about how strong your faith is, and I’m ashamed that I didn’t live up to your expectations.”

  Tears continued to pour down her face. She clenched her throat shut for a moment, refusing to let out a cry but unable to say any more until she had composed herself.

  “I guess, if there’s one thing I want to tell you, it’s about how I ... It’s that when I ... Oh, never mind.”

  It had only been a few minutes ago when she convinced herself that she needed to come clean and confess everything to her grandmother, but now she knew she couldn’t. What would be the point?

  Telling Ricky certainly hadn’t purged her soul from her guilt or made her feel any better.

  She should go. Help Aunt Connie make some of those calls or something. Anything to get out of this room where the sorrow and the grief and the despair threatened to consume her entirely.

  She turned to go but stopped when she heard her grandmother take in a wheezy breath of air.

  “Did you say something?” Jillian’s heart was fluttering erratically. Why did she feel like the only thing she wanted to do was run away? Why did she feel like she was the one suffocating?

  “Blessing,” Grandma Lucy whispered hoarsely.

  Jillian leaned over the bedside. “What did you say? What do you mean?” She held Grandma Lucy’s hand once more, terrified God might take her home before she told Jillian what she was trying to say.