Dreamscape

by Rose Anderson

  “Bertha and I are dragging Richard to the haberdasher in Dunston today. They have excellent merino socks for men there, and there’s nothing like that back home since before the war.”

  He handed her an envelope.

  “What is this?”

  “For Bertha, if her headache should return in full bloom. Stop midday for tea and allow this to steep five minutes before she drinks it.

  She nodded. Turning to Lanie, she said, “I know you wouldn’t care to join us. That’s why I didn’t bother to ask you.”

  “On the contrary, Lanie and I have business in Dunston. Perhaps we’ll ride with you.” Jason answered with little concern for her lapse in manners.

  Lanie’s gaze went to his face. Her father had no dealings in Dunston.

  Not expecting her husband to suggest such a thing, Cathy blinked. “But we’re leaving now, Jason, and you’re obviously not ready and besides, it’s too hot and humid for five in the carriage. We’ll simply melt.” Then finding herself with nothing else to say, added, “Well, I suppose we could meet…”

  Smiling, Jason turned to Lanie and asked, “It was Dunston, wasn’t it? Or was it Brookton?”

  “Brookton,” she replied, still not quite knowing what this conversation was for.

  Cathy said incredulously, “Why, that’s clear across the county, Jason…”

  He nodded. “It is, and it’s far too late to go there now. It appears we must deny your entourage the pleasure of our company today, Cathy. I’m sure Richard will be most pleased with the selection there. Do enjoy yourselves. ”

  The change in his wife was remarkable. She said happily, “Oh, we will. So long.”

  He locked the door behind her. In an instant he pulled Lanie into his arms. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered at her ear. When she remained silent, Jason drew back and searched her face. She kept her eyes averted, forcing him to tip her chin with his finger. “What is it? Tell me, love.”

  She’d cried after their lovemaking and couldn’t account for the profound sadness she felt after such incredible joy. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “I feel hopeless, Jason, and I’m not sure why.”

  He understood her words. Lanie’s dream was influenced by her waking reality. After brushing away the tear that slowly fell from her lovely blue eyes, he held her face in his hands. “Don’t feel hopeless.” His eyes searched hers. He needed her to know. “I will love you through time. I will love you in your dreams and in the waking world. No matter what happens, no matter when.” His lips found hers, and he kissed her sweetly. Her arms circled his neck as she returned his kiss with desperate abandon.

  Their kisses deepened and loving caresses took a turn. Thoughts and words evaporated as their hands and lips now ran wild. He needed her. He needed to lose himself in this moment, in this dream. Pressing her hard against the wall, his hands grasped her buttocks and pulled her to him. His hardness pressed through the flounces of her skirts and pinned her between his body and the wainscot. Desiring to feel her skin upon his, he opened her blouse and exposed the creamy mounds held high in her corset.

  In short order his flying fingers unhooked her corset and uncovered nipples still rosy and tender from their lovemaking the night before. Drawn to suckle her again, Jason dipped his head.

  Lanie drew a sharp breath as Jason’s lips went from nipple to tender nipple. Intense pleasure skittered over her nerves like so much lightning. Weaving her fingers into his mahogany hair, she followed him from one breast to the other. So immersed in the wonderful sensations, she hadn’t realized he’d lifted her skirts searching for the slit in her pantalets. When his warm hand slipped inside, she knew.

  Finding the yards of fabric far too restrictive, Jason kissed her neck and whispered, “Bare yourself for me, love.”

  Her fingers worked the buttons and hooks. Before long all that remained were stockings, shoes, and crumpled corset. It was enough.

  In a flash he had her back up against the wall again. One hand wound in her hair while he kissed her sweet mouth. The other freed himself from the tight confines of his trousers. Steel-hard cock jutting forward, he cupped her buttocks in both hands and, lifting her up along the wall, sheathed himself in one smooth motion.

  Lanie cried out at the marvelous filling, and locked her ankles around his hips, wanting more.

  He breathed at her ear, “You want my cock. Tell me you do.” He thrust upward, feeling his heavy balls slap against her as her tightness stretched around him. “Tell me…”

  “I want it, Jason, I want your…your…”

  “Cock.” His thrusts came harder now. Shaken loose from its hook, a framed picture fell to the floor.

  “Mmm… I want your cock,” she repeated with breathy need. The wondrously hard joining overwhelmed Lanie’s senses. The angle of his body riding into hers magnified the gathering that came from within. It was more than the night before. Her lust-filled response returned in full measure. One arm held his shoulders while the other sought the wall behind to steady herself against the delicious onslaught.

  The sound of her sensual reply blazed into Jason’s veins. His every thrust rode her roughly against the wall. Each time he withdrew, gravity made sure she took all of him in when he filled her again.

  Good God, she held him in an exquisite grip. Jason knew when the edge of her climax was met by the tremor seizing where his body joined hers. Redoubling his efforts, he rode her harder. Feeling his body contract in bliss, he groaned against her shoulder as the soft whimpering sigh of her release echoed in his ear. When her own contractions seized him, he helplessly fell from her precipice and spilled into her.

  Amid their panting breaths and pounding hearts, Jason gently let her legs down, and her warm, slippery thighs closed around him. Helpless to do otherwise, he stayed trapped in the heat there until he softened. Holding her face between his hands again, he kissed her eyes closed. He kissed the tip of her nose, her cheeks, her chin, then settled on her lips. He wanted to tell her how he loved her, but he was afraid. Last night he expressed his feelings, and she woke in tears. His sad thoughts completely ridding him of his desire, he eased from her. Walking to his examination table, he pulled a towel from the bottom drawer then knelt before her and gently wiped the evidence of their lovemaking from her thighs.

  Gazing down, Lanie watched his tender ministrations wondering how it was she had come to love this man so thoroughly, so quickly.

  He said, “Thank you. I wanted to tell you last night.”

  The intimate spell broken, she said, “I never thought it possible to feel anything so wonderful. Is it always that way?”

  Jason helped her into her clothing before donning his own. He smoothed her hair and secured a pin that had come loose. “It is with you because I… That is to say we…” He almost said too much. He almost said love. At a loss for words, he simply smiled. “Between us it is.”

  Buttoning her last button, she brushed the folds of her skirt. “We’re on intimate terms now.” She looked at him as if she needed to say more. She didn’t have to. He could hear her silent thoughts. What happens next for us? They were intimate, and he was a married man.

  Suddenly the small doctor’s office with its faint scent of alcohol, sulfur, and laudanum felt too close and astringent for Jason. Not knowing how much time he had before her dream ended or the light came to take him, he thought it best to tell her the truth, as much as he dared to. He held out his hand. “Walk with me?”

  His office was at the side of the house with its own outside door for patients to come and go. He led her out into the side yard. Patrick was seining the leaves from the fountain, so they couldn’t talk privately in the gazebo. Remembering the atrium had a secluded bench, he headed there.

  A few steps from the atrium door, a frantic voice came from behind. He turned to find Mrs. Boatwright with her market basket clutched to her ample bosom. She’d been running by the look of her. The wheezing woman’s cheeks were as red as apples. “Oh, thank God. There you are, Doctor. You’re neede
d! There’s been a terrible accident on the town square, the whole front of a building collapsed! Oh, the carnage! Nearly a dozen people injured. And a little baby in his pram…his mother…his mother…” The woman began to sob, “Doctor, please, you must go quickly!”

  Both Lanie and Jason made to dash then paused briefly to look at each other. They were both doctors and both instantly acted upon the call for help. Jason said, “Will you come?”

  Nodding, she replied, “My bag is upstairs. I’ll hurry.”

  “I’ll meet you at the front gate.” He called to Patrick, “Patrick, ready the buggy, hurry!” Jason watched Lanie scurry up the walkway. He turned to his cook and said gently, “Take yourself inside, Millie, you’ve helped all you can by hurrying home. Tell Addy I said to pour you a sherry or a sleeping draught if you need stronger, and then you rest. We’ll find our own dinner tonight.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” She wiped her tears, taking her soft sobs into the house with her.

  Breathless from the stairs, Lanie met him at the gate with her black doctor’s bag in hand.

  They made it to the town square in record time. Jason heard, “Oh thank God, Doctor Bowen’s here!” A man called from somewhere in the crowd, “Doctor here, come quick!” Still another cried, “Dear heaven, save her.” A woman shrieked, “Help, he’s bleeding!” Pulling his tourniquet from his bag, Jason ran there.

  Lanie didn’t need direction. She hurried to the side of a dirty and torn woman cradling an unconscious man’s head in her lap. The poor woman wailed, “Save my Johnnie, dear God, save my husband.”

  She’d arrived too late. The man was already gone. “He’s gone. I’m so sorry. There’s nothing more I can do.”

  Lanie and Jason spilt up, each barking orders and organizing a makeshift triage. In the end, four had died in the rubble, one would undoubtedly die by nightfall, and several others were treated for broken bones, concussed skulls, cuts, scrapes, and abrasions. Addy and Patrick had come with a basket of spirits, medicinals, and bandages. With no more to be done there, Jason and Lanie packed their bags and returned to the house, leaving the housekeeper and coach boy to talk with various friends who needed to unload the emotional burden of witnessing the store front’s collapse.

  Filthy with dirt and gore, the weary pair decided it better to enter through the back door and in so doing walked past the open dining room window and discovered a conversation Jason was never meant to hear. He held up his hand. Lanie stopped and listened with him.

  Bertha was talking. “You make a decent egg, Cathy, but didn’t we just have eggs with our breakfast?”

  “Yes, well, Mrs. Boatwright is sleeping. It’s the best I can do.”

  Bertha dismissed the words. “Yes, I know that. I was standing there when young Patrick said Jason sent her to bed. I don’t understand why she couldn’t have prepared something beforehand.”

  Richard’s tone was exasperated. “For goodness sake, Bertie. For the last time, be glad there are eggs to eat.”

  Bertha harrumphed. “Yes, yes I remember how many times we went hungry after Mama and Papa died and the bank took it all. Don’t think I’d ever forget. I’ll wager these northerners never went without like we did. Really, Cathy, your eggs are perfect. Still, the cook might have prepared a ham. I mean how much effort would that have taken? They practically cook themselves…”

  “Put it to rest,” Richard said wearily. “We have more important matters to discuss while the house is empty and the cook sleeps soundly upstairs.”

  Bertha said offhandedly, “Well, yes we do. And something troubles me.”

  Cathy asked, “What’s troubling you?”

  “Is it necessary to kill him?”

  “Of course it is. How else do we inherit all?” Cathy told her, her irritation plain.

  Bertha was tempted to point out Lanie as a possible source of income. Instead she said, “I told you from the start it was a bad idea.”

  Cathy bit the words, “Do you think this has been easy on me?”

  Bertha scoffed. “Fiddle-faddle, Cathy, I imagine so. I for one don’t know how you stayed out of his bed. He has to be the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes upon. I find him charming and…”

  Cathy cut in, “Have you lost your senses? Are you honestly under the impression that lusting for that man has been the difficulty?” Her next words were cool. “It’s Richard that I love, that I’ve always loved. Jason Bowen is a means to an end.”

  Bertha’s tone was angry. “I should have been the one to marry Jason. Not you. I told you both from the start.”

  “Yes, Bertie, we all know you’re sweet on the Yankee,” Richard chided gently. “He never would have had you, dear. Nettie was our only hope.”

  The sound of a fork clanking against china followed. “What are you saying to me, Richard? If given Cathy’s chance, I could have made him love me.” Her voice cracked. “I should have married Jason,” she spit at Cathy, her emotional voice holding an edge. “I would have convinced him to buy Magnolia Hill from the bank, Cathy. I wouldn’t have to kill him. Isn’t it bad enough you and Richard killed his father? He was a nice old man. He reminded me of Papa in many ways.”

  Lanie’s gaze flew to Jason’s face. Even in the dark couldn’t hide the pain and rage painting his features. She put her arms around his waist. He was trembling.

  * * * *

  Lanie woke to the sound of a circular saw whirring away under her window. Still groggy, she assessed—no headache as far as she could tell. Ugh, margaritas. Her mouth felt like a Chihuahua had done its business in there. She’d only had a few drinks before they went right to her head. Having never really been much of a drinker, not even in her college party days, alcohol always seemed to hit her hard. She winced. That was the point. She wanted to be hit hard. She wanted to forget about Jason for a while. Jason. Her eyes got large. She dreamt she’d overheard his wife and her cousins talking about killing him!

  Getting up too fast, she felt a little queasy. A quick shower and a few aspirin later, she felt human enough to call Lexie.

  “Hi, I’m so sorry, Lex. Yes, you are a saint. I know I don’t have to apologize, but I am. You’re where?” Lanie laughed, went to the window, and waved. “I’ll be right down.” Her car was pulling into the drive as they spoke.

  “Jason?” Lanie looked around the room. He sometimes appeared if she called him, but he didn’t this time. “Jason?” she repeated, “I have to talk to you about something. I have a question to ask you.”

  Jason wasn’t upstairs where he might have heard her, he was in the study looking up at the restored painting of himself and his father.

  They killed him. This good gentle man, they killed him, too. Jason wiped his eyes. “I didn’t know, Father. God help me, I didn’t know.”

  The story he’d been told was his father had intended to visit the Atlanta mill he was investing in. Somewhere between his hotel and the mill, his rented horse spooked, knocking him to the ground where he presumably died from his head injury.

  Jason frowned darkly. He had been with the charming and lovely Cathy that morning. She’d been so quick to offer him comfort. Despondent over his father’s death, it was comfort he sorely needed. Completely ensnared by her performance, a week later he proposed.

  Hearing the door open, Jason evaporated on the spot.

  Lanie suggested, “You can spread your papers out in here, Lex, the desktop is mostly bare. Hey, I didn’t tell you… Betty Turnbole brought the portrait yesterday. I can’t believe the job she did. You’d never know it was torn.”

  “I told you. She’s a pro.” Lexie set the crate-sized box with her purse and several accordion folders on the large secretary. “What did she charge? I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be much because the portrait itself was intact…”

  “Three-hundred seventy-five. A real bargain. But I would have paid more. Look what she did, not only did she cut the painting down so the tear is completely out of the picture—no pun intended—she also matted it in complime
nting colors. I never would have thought about trimming the painting down and matting. I thought she’d be taping it or something.”

  Lexie looked up at the painting of Jackson and Jason Bowen, father and son. What a handsome pair of men they were. Jason also made quite a handsome ghost.

  “What did Jason say when he saw it?”

  Lanie looked at her friend. “You did see him. I thought I dreamt it.”

  “Oh no, I saw him all right. I even spoke with him. And I’m sorry for ever thinking you were nuts.”

  Lanie grinned. “You thought I was crazy?”

  Lexie nodded, trying to keep a straight face.

  “And to think all these years I thought you believed me.” Her smile widened.

  “Oh no, don’t get me wrong, I knew you were dreaming all this. I just thought the dream stuff since you moved in was happening because you were exhausting yourself every day.”

  That made sense. The mind could do funny things when overtired. Redirecting, Lanie admitted, “I’m glad he showed himself. There was a while there where I thought I was nuts.” Thinking it odd Lexie wasn’t gushing over the minutia of her conversation with the spirit world, Lanie fished for details. “I’m sure he’d love talking to you. He’s interested in everything. He’s a very intelligent man, and I know he’d be interested in what you’ve brought.”

  “Yeah, I’d say so.”

  Hmm. Lanie called him again. “Jason, are you there?” She frowned. “He usually appears right away.”

  Anticipating the conversation to come, Lexie took a deep breath. The part she discussed with herself on the ride over. In the end she had determined matter-of-fact and to the point was the way to say it. “He won’t appear anymore, sweetie.” By what he said last night, it wasn’t exactly a lie.

  Lanie blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s gone. He knows there’s no future in your loving him.” Seeing the pain on her friend’s face, she added, “I’m sorry.”