Wine & Roses

by Susan Hughes

He heard himself shout her name and at once he was back in his own bedroom, lying in a tangle of sheets, facing the glowing red numbers on the digital clock at his bedside.

  Jason sat up, breathing raggedly as his heart continued to pound. His chest was slick with sweat that had seeped through the front of his pajama top. The terrible image of Abby lying dead lingered in his mind’s eye, the sense of dread heavy on his heart. He dragged a hand over his face, mopping the cool dampness from his forehead.

  Go back to sleep. It was just a dream, and it’s over now, the rational voice in his head advised. Obeying, Jason lay back against his pillow, closing his eyes and willing his galloping pulse to slow its pace. It had only been a dream, certainly weird, but likely brought on by stress; maybe it was a message from his subconscious that would make sense once deciphered. A good theory, yes. But it had been so vivid, and so different from anything he’d dreamed before.

  Calm down, he coached himself. Abby’s fine. The baby’s fine … oh Lord, the baby. Jason’s eyes sprang open. He wouldn’t have expected the thought of losing the baby to disturb him so deeply. He hadn’t been able to think of his future child as much more than a problem to be dealt with, or an unhappy consequence of his own carelessness. Yet the idea of losing it along with Abby magnified the apprehension constricting his chest.

  He rolled onto his side, frowning deeply as shame swept through him. He’d meant to call Abby yesterday, and had even picked up the phone several times before changing his mind. Though he’d longed to talk to her, he hadn’t wanted to disappoint her again with more insensitive or foolish words. He’d wanted to be sure of his intentions before he spoke to her. It seemed like a stupid mistake now; talking to her may have helped him sort through his thoughts as well as reassure her that he wouldn’t abandon her.

  He’d call her first thing in the morning, he decided, and ask to see her. He’d apologize as profusely as necessary. Everything would be fine. Good, now he could sleep.

  Try as he might to doze off, Jason spent the next half-hour tossing and slapping his pillow in an effort to find a comfortable position. The nagging feeling of unease simply wouldn’t leave him.

  He stared at the clock. It was almost one o’clock, too late to call Abby. But he had to speak to her. Surely she’d forgive him for waking her up. Grabbing the phone off the bedside table, he punched in her number, anxious to hear her voice as he waited. But she didn’t answer. After several rings her voice mail activated. Jason hung up, frustrated.

  Well, maybe she turned off her ringer at night to avoid being disturbed. Hanging up, he tried her cell phone. Still no answer. He’d have to try again in the morning.

  Flopping back onto the bed, Jason tried to clear his mind and relax, with no better luck. He simply wasn’t going to sleep until he spoke to Abby, or at least knew for certain that she was all right.

  Throwing the sheets off, he stood up and gathered his clothes from the chair where he’d tossed them.

  Her house was dark, as expected. Pulling his car into the driveway, Jason hesitated, considering turning around and heading home. She’d be in a deep sleep by now, and he could only imagine the incredulous look on her face as he tried to explain that a frightening dream had compelled him to dash over there in the middle of the night.

  He changed his mind when it occurred to him that Abby’s car wasn’t in the driveway. She might have parked it in the garage, but he couldn’t assume that without seeing for himself. Cutting the engine, he grabbed the flashlight he kept in his glove compartment and stepped out of the car, ignoring the possibility that Abby’s neighbours might notice him lurking and summon the police. The side wall of the garage had a small window, and he leaned his forehead against the pane, aiming the flashlight into the dark.

  Abby’s car wasn’t there.

  Jason snapped off the light, alarm beginning to set in. How could she be home without her car? He sprinted up the porch steps and pressed the doorbell, no longer caring if he woke her up. After waiting a moment, he pressed it twice more, but she didn’t come. He proceeded to pound on the door, calling her name. If she was in the house and simply didn’t want to see him, surely she’d come to the door to stop him from disturbing the neighbourhood. But his efforts were met with silence.

  So she wasn’t home; it didn’t mean anything was wrong. She could be spending the night with Marguerite, for example. Jason knew he should just go home, yet he was unable to squelch the dreadful feeling that Abby was in trouble and needed his help. He didn’t believe in premonitions, but the dream remained vivid in his mind, nagging at him as though it had been a warning.

  Standing alone in the dark of her front porch, Jason felt powerless. He willed himself to remain calm, fighting off a wave of panic and resisting his instinct to call the hospital or the police. He could contact Marguerite—if only he knew her number or address.

  The inn. It was the only other place he could think of where he might find Abby.

  Jumping back into his car, he backed out of the driveway and headed down the dark, deserted road that led to The Roses.

  He was two blocks from the inn when he noticed the smoke, visible above the two-story shops lining the street. Slowing at the stop sign on the corner, he stared up in astonishment at the swirling plumes of gray billowing upward against the black sky.

  Abby.

  Pressing his foot hard onto the gas pedal, Jason steered his car around the corner and accelerated down the street, his heart thudding so fast and heavy he feared it might burst from his chest.

  As the inn came into view, he saw the bright glow of flames wavering behind the windowpanes on both floors.

  A cluster of people wearing night attire stood gathered on the sidewalk opposite the building, staring up at the smoldering structure. Bringing his car to an abrupt stop at the curb, Jason leapt out, searching for Abby but not seeing her. He grabbed the arm of a man wearing a tartan robe, looking stunned and rumpled with his graying hair in disarray.

  “Did everyone get out?” Jason yelled.

  “As far as I know,” the man said.

  “Did you see an attractive woman, slender, with curly auburn hair?”

  The man shook his head. “Don’t think so.”

  For a moment Jason relaxed; maybe Abby hadn’t been there. But that reprieve was only momentary, dissolving in an instant when he spotted a blue convertible parked just down the street, beneath a lilac tree.

  “She must be inside!” he shouted, his voice drowned out by the wail of a fire truck, some distance off. He tried to tell himself that this was still part of the dream, rapidly evolving into a nightmare. But of course it was all too real.

  The prospect of losing Abby and their baby pressed on his chest, making it difficult to draw enough breath. The fear that had kept him from committing himself to Abby— fear that the pain of rejection would be too much to bear once he allowed her fully into his heart—now seemed trivial compared to the terror beginning to consume him.

  “Someone’s still in there?” The man next to Jason goggled at the blazing building across the road, the bright flames reflected in the lenses of his glasses. “No way she’ll get out now.”

  “Not if I have anything to do with it,” Jason muttered, stepping off the curb.

  “Wait for the firefighters!” the man called after Jason as he dashed across the street. “They’re almost here.”

  Jason didn’t hesitate or glance back. He knew there was no time to wait.

  Chapter Twelve

  He realized as he threw open the door to the pub that he had very little time to find her. The room glowed with wavering flames that had found their way to every corner, consuming the curtains before tearing their way through the wallpaper and upward to lick over the ceiling beams. Jason crouched low, avoiding the dense black smoke pooling above his head.

  “Abby!” he called out, his voice cracking as hot, acrid air rasped through his throat. Where could she be, and how would she hear him over the din of roaring flames and shattering g
lass?

  He lunged into the blistering heat, the adrenaline that flared through his veins tamping down the instinct to protect his own life that would have otherwise sent him running outside to safety. Though the thickening smoke stung his eyes and obscured his vision, he could see that his path to the vestibule was clear of flames. He hesitated, having to choose between continuing past the washrooms toward the lounge, or taking the riskier route upstairs. He raised his elbow shield his mouth; breathing was becoming more of a challenge, the smoke-filled air scorching his lungs each time he inhaled.

  He’d try the lounge first, he decided; she might have fallen asleep reading a book. He speculated grimly that the fire might have started there, by a spark leaping from the fireplace to the sofa. If so, those old cushions would have burned to ashes in seconds.

  Taking cautious steps, Jason moved past the staircase, seeing that the lounge looked to be nearly engulfed in flames. Calling her name several times, he prayed Abby wasn’t in there.

  He caught movement in the corner of his eye and stopped, turning. A figure stood on the staircase, facing him. His heart leapt; if she was standing there, she was conscious, and he’d be able to get her out quickly.

  But it wasn’t Abby. The person on the stairs was too short, and not the right shape, though it appeared to be a woman wearing a long, billowy gown. He squinted at the person, the smoke making it difficult to see her clearly. He couldn’t discern her features, obscured by shadow. Oddly, the figure itself seemed to waver like the flames surrounding it, as though made of smoke itself. At first Jason thought he must be hallucinating, his frazzled mind forming a column of smoke into the shape of a person.

  “Who are you?” he managed to ask, before doubling over, a hacking cough racking his chest for several seconds.

  The woman didn’t reply. When he was able to focus on her again, he saw her arm rise, her finger extended toward the top of the stairs. Jason lurched forward, his shoe thumping onto the landing. But as he drew closer to the figure, she simply evaporated.

  He recoiled, blinking in surprise, but hesitated for only a moment; he didn’t have the luxury of puzzling out what had just happened. From his position on the landing he could see that the stairs were clear, and he climbed them two at a time, calling out Abby’s name.

  The doors to the rooms upstairs were open—all except the room he and Abby had spent the night in. He decided he’d start there. As he moved to the door he noticed the portrait of Rebecca lying broken on the hallways carpet, surrounded by shards of glass.

  Curling his hand over the doorknob, Jason winced. The metal was blazing hot, and it scalded his hand as he turned it. He pushed the door open, charging inside. The air was hazy with smoke but flames hadn’t yet touched the room.

  With the curtains open, he was able to see the shadowy outline of Abby’s form on the bed, curled on her side. Jason’s mind flashed back to his dream, and the awful dread of losing her resurfaced, sweeping through him with fresh intensity. His blood hammering through his veins, he rushed to the bed and gathered her to him, rolling her swiftly onto her back. Was he too late? No, she was alive; he let out a sharp breath of relief, feeling the shallow rise and fall of her chest under his palm.

  Hooking his arms under her back and behind her knees, Jason lifted her off the bed, finding a well of strength despite his own struggle to breathe. She crumpled against his chest, limp and heavy; he held her close, wasting no time getting her out of the room and down the stairs. The first floor was further engulfed in flames now, but he managed to weave through them and find his way to the door.

  Bursting into the cool night, he paused to draw a few deep, grateful gulps of fresh air. Flashing red lights filled his vision, signaling the arrival of a number of emergency vehicles.

  As Jason stumbled away from the building, Oscar appeared beside him, agape as his gaze raked over the lifeless figure in Jason’s arms.

  “Is she all right?” he demanded.

  Jason peered down at Abby’s face, finding she was still unconscious. “I don’t know.”

  “Put her down here.” Having acquired a blanket from somewhere, Oscar hastily spread it on the grass at Jason’s feet. “She went upstairs for a nap before closing, but I thought she’d gone home. I’ll never forgive myself.”

  Laying Abby gently on the blanket, Jason crouched next to her, smoothing her hair back from her face. God, how he loved her. She was worth any risk, even jeopardizing his own life. He couldn’t lose her now.

  “Abby. Abby. Please talk to me,” he begged, his voice low and hoarse. He pressed his fingers to her wrist, trying to feel for a pulse, but the trembling of his own hands made it impossible. He could see firefighters jumping out of the truck across the street, and paramedics not far behind. Oscar leapt up, calling to them for help.

  Holding his own breath, Jason bent close to Abby’s face to listen for her breathing. Instead he heard her voice, barely a whisper against his ear.

  “Jason?”

  Startled, he straightened to look into her face, his heart soaring. She coughed twice and pulled in a wheezing breath, before her eyes fluttered open.

  “Abby. Thank God.” Cupping her face in his palms, he bent to kiss her cheeks several times, his chest hitching uncontrollably. “Thank God, you’re okay.”

  Abby peered up at him with an unfocused gaze, bewilderment creasing her brow.

  “It’s me. I got you out. You’re safe,” he said.

  “What … happened?” she asked, labouring to speak between shallow breaths. Of course she was confused; if she’d been asleep when the fire broke out, she had no idea what had happened.

  “There’s been a fire,” he told her. “But never mind. I have to tell you something, and it can’t wait. I’m so sorry about the way I reacted when you told me about the baby.” Clasping her hand, he slid his other palm over her abdomen, tenderly caressing the firm curve of her belly. It was too soon for a baby bump, but he imagined he could feel the flutter of a tiny heartbeat. He prayed that his little girl or boy would get through this trauma unharmed. Something had shifted in his heart, forming a space at its core that could only be filled by the new life he and Abby had created.

  Abby didn’t reply, but squeezed his hand, her lips pulling up slightly at the edges.

  “I want to marry you, Abby,” he went on, returning her smile. “I want to raise this child together, as a family. I’m ready for it. And it’s not just because of how it terrified me to almost lose you. This has made me realize how much I need you. And how much I love you.” He lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing his trembling lips to the backs of her fingers. “You were so right when you said that love blinds us, but I’ve been so consumed with protecting myself that I’ve failed to see that what I really want has been right in front of me. Please forgive me.”

  “Step aside, sir. Let us help her.”

  Glancing up, Jason found himself flanked by paramedics. Grateful as he was for their help, he didn’t want to be parted from Abby quite yet. Still, he had no choice but to release her hand and move aside.

  “She’s pregnant,” he told them, as they fit an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. “Look after her.”

  “Don’t worry, she’s in good hands,” the young female paramedic assured him.

  Jason sank onto the cool grass nearby, watching as Abby was lifted onto a stretcher. He felt too weak to stand, the adrenaline in his blood having run its course. There was nothing more he could do to help her now, anyhow.

  “It’s a miracle you were able to get her out,” Oscar remarked as he sat next to Jason, his voice tinged with relief. “How did you find her?”

  “I, um …” Jason paused, remembering the figure he’d seen on the staircase. Had she been real, or merely an imaginary product of the extreme stress he was under? Add to that the strange dream that had brought him out in the middle of the night in the first place, and how could he explain it? Rasping a hand over his chin, he ran the sequence of events through his mind, trying to pi
ece it all together in a way that made logical sense. He simply couldn’t.

  * * *

  The oxygen mask helped Abby to breathe easier, but her chest still felt tight, emotion constricting her throat. She fought to relax and draw long, slow breaths, reminding herself that her baby needed oxygen. Whatever she’d just endured, she had no intention of letting this child slip through her fingers now.

  Turning her head to the side, she searched for Jason, but without her glasses she couldn’t identify those around her. The only people she saw clearly were the two paramedics, one man and one woman, standing over her.

  She also recognized that the inn was engulfed in flames, and her heart sank with the knowledge that the building she’d so lovingly restored was being destroyed. Though she only remembered lying down on the bed upstairs, intending to rest but not doze off, she realized that she must have slept for some time. She also understood that Jason had pulled her from the burning building to safety, though she had no idea how he’d known to find her there.

  “Stupid bastard,” the male paramedic muttered to his partner, as he tucked a blanket around Abby. “He could have been killed, running into an inferno like that.”

  The woman nodded toward the blazing structure. “I don’t think she would’ve made it out otherwise.” Seeing Abby’s wide eyes staring up at her from the stretcher, the woman smiled down. Nancy Riley was printed on her nametag. “You’re a lucky lady. He must adore you.”

  Abby blinked her agreement, her deep love for Jason swelling through her as she absorbed the fact that he’d risked his life to save hers. Only moments ago she’d woken out of a haze to hear him say he loved her, and that he wanted them to be a family—words that would have taken her breath away, had she not already been struggling for air. He’d asked her to marry him, and she’d had no time to answer him. Now she couldn’t see him or speak to him, and she wanted desperately to tell him yes.

  Feeling helpless and alone, she struggled to suppress the anxiety that welled up again. A single tear escaped her eye and slid toward her ear; spotting it, Nancy patted her patient’s shoulder in reassurance.