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COFFEE CUP DREAMS
A Redpoint One Romance
By J.A. Marlow
Exclusively Published By Star Catcher Publishing - Smashwords Edition
Starcatcherpub.com
Other Redpoint One Titles
A Turn of the Pipes
Once Upon a Pet Show
Description
She wasn't supposed to wake up when dead…
During a simple operation Tish Douglas died. And yet, she also awoke… in what the doctors called a 'psi event.' No matter what they called it, it destroyed the life she knew and sent her fleeing Earth to a remote still-operating ancient space station of alien origins called Redpoint One.
New boss Arthur Getty doesn't need any additional problems, such as a new recruit who doesn't have a shred of maintenance experience. And yet, between pirate attacks, intelligent repair robots running around, maintenance emergencies, and a strange space station that no one really understands, the sparks fly.
Despite Arthur knowing that as his employee Tish is off-limits. Despite the secret Tish keeps about what sent her fleeing to Redpoint One in the first place.
Copyright
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my family, who have been supportive of all my writing since I can remember. All my stories are for you.
This book is also dedicated to all those who love to daydream.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
About the Author
Sample - A Turn of the Pipes
Sample - The String Weavers (The String Weavers - Book 1)
Star Catcher Publishing
CHAPTER ONE
SHE WASN'T SUPPOSED to wake up when dead.
At least, that's what the Doctor said afterwards, in a rather testy voice with an aggrieved expression on his face. Would he have preferred she died instead? To simplify the paperwork?
Tish Douglas stared down at the flex-paper she held in her shaking hand, listing the discharge orders. No stress, light duty, no heavy lifting for the next few weeks. The standard stuff. All except the last line:
2mg Psipheron once daily.
It had to be a bad dream. All of it. No way could she be a psi. She was as dead-of-mind as anyone could be. All the yearly tests while in school, every test taken before a new job. All of them came back negative. The test at the hospital after the operation, and still her so-called 'mental abilities' didn't even cause a blip on the testing equipment.
She heard a familiar voice behind her, talking and laughing as he came down the hall towards her. With a rather pretty nurse, she noted with ill-humor.
"By law you are required to take everything according to the exact directions," the woman behind the counter said as she passed over a small bag. She settled a stern look on Tish. "No exceptions."
Tish bristled at being talked to so curtly. As if she were a child having to be told exactly what to do and when to do it.
Walt stopped behind her and pressed a kiss against the hair on the top of her head. "My lovely. I see you are up and around already. Should you be so soon?"
"I'm fine," Tish said, needing to hear the words for herself. She glared at the woman across the counter. "I'm fine."
She took one more glance at the flex-paper. The details for Psipheron went on for pages, including long lists of possible side-effects and recommended treatments to counter-act them. The final side-effect of "may in some instances cause death" didn't help any. The drug looked like a plague itself. A new window popped up declaring all pertinent information and instructions had been forwarded to her personal computer.
She slapped down the flex-paper on the counter, but before she could slide it across to the woman Walt grabbed it. "Of course you'll be fine. I'll take care of you."
And he stopped, his face going slack.
She knew why and this wasn't the way she'd wanted him to find out. Tish grabbed the bag, knowing she wouldn't be allowed out of the hospital without it, took the flex-paper from Walt and slid it across the counter.
"Take me home," she said, turning away. She couldn't stand much more of the white sterile walls of the hospital.
A place where she should feel safe, a place filled with people who helped other people. Instead, in her eyes it had turned into a place of ominous shadows and fake smiles and assurances, a place which she only wanted to escape.
Walt didn't say a word as he guided her out of the hospital pharmacy and outside the main hospital. She kept her head down, a hand crushing the top of the bag, refusing to meet anyone's eyes.
The moment they were in his aerocar he demanded, "You have a psi rating?"
"No, I don't," Tish said quickly, looking up at him to find him glaring down at her.
"They don't give that stuff out on a whim." He set the aerocar on its course and leaned back in his seat, settling a heavy stare on her.
She crushed the top of the bag even more. "It's not what you think."
"Explain it to me."
Tish scowled. "They said I flatlined on the operating table. And then became fully conscious in a Psi moment. Which is ridiculous."
"You flatlined?"
"As in technically dead," Tish said with a sigh. "Then they say I woke up."
Walt's smile still hadn't returned as he asked, "Did you?"
"I don't know. I don't remember it. They showed me the readings, and it does show that my heart stopped." She stopped, remembering staring at the flat lines on the computer screen at the doctor consultation after she recovered from surgery. Heart flat, breathing and pulse flat. She tried to suppress the small shudder that went through her. "They're trying to blame me for the fault of the anesthesiologist."
"They don't make mistakes about things like this," Walt said, folding his arms over his chest.
She leveled her own glare on him. "I have never rated one tick on any psi testing. I've never had any mental abilities, and I still don't. Their equipment is faulty. I am not a psi."
He took a deep breath, turning his attention to the passing scenery out the front window. His jaw tensed, a vein standing up on his neck. The rugged planes of his face turned even sharper, transforming it from the man she'd hoped to find a future with to that of a stranger.
She stopped herself, giving herself a mental shake. Walt might be a workaholic, obsessed with how he presented himself to his bosses and company, but he'd always been loyal to her. Even today, the day she'd been discharged from the hospital, he'd promised to take time off work to come and take her home. A man who never took time off, and he'd done it.
But a part of her knew better. The part of her that wasn't surprised when he gave a barely perceptible shake of his head as he said, "This isn't good."
"I'm still
Tish. Your Tish," she started. And then stopped. "This isn't the end of the world."
He turned his attention back to her, his eyes harder than she'd ever seen. "We were to join my boss at a special luncheon this weekend. You know the rules. A psi must arrange with security before any event involving over a certain number of people."
"I'm not a psi," Tish whispered.
"The hospital has tagged you as one. That is enough." He frowned. "How am I supposed to tell my boss of this?"
And with the last sentence the rest of her knew, as well, even the part that still wanted to hold onto hope. She'd become a social embarrassment to her job-climbing boyfriend. No more was she the perfect cute companion who always knew what to say and how to behave. She'd become a liability.
And with that the loyalty he'd previously shown her evaporated.
When they arrived at the house where she rented a room she opened the door of the aerocar, saying, "Don't bother walking me to the door. I can see you want to get back to work."
He didn't say anything in response.
Tish paused on the porch, watching the aerocar fly away to join the afternoon traffic in the upper airlanes. The part of her mind not numb from the shocks she'd had since waking up from a simple operation tried to analyze what had just happened. What went wrong.
"Stop it," she told herself. She'd always known who and what Walt had been. She'd just chosen to ignore it, hoping he would fall so deeply in love with her that he would readily forgive the day when she'd miss-stepped. And she knew she eventually would. She was far from perfect.
Apparently getting tagged as a psi was too much to overlook.
She turned away to enter the Getty house, taking off her shoes in the foyer. Before she could head for the staircase a series of rapid light taps turned her attention to the dining room. Where Neil Getty stood on top of a chair with a toolbox on the floor nearby and part of the chandelier on the table.
He looked down at where she stood in the wide arching entrance. "And our sick little tenant is back home. Where's Walt?"
She made a half gesture towards the front of the house. "He had to get back to work."
"He didn't walk you in? After you've been in the hospital?" Neil demanded. As he continued to work on the wiring where the chandelier attached to the ceiling he shook his head. "If a man can't treat his girlfriend with respect while dating, how is he going to act when it comes time for marriage?"
Tish nearly choked. "Who said anything about marriage?"
He pulled pliers from his belt and pointed the end at her. "Mark my words, he's no gentleman. Go find someone worth your time and attentions."
"Not a problem. We broke up on the way here." Tish clamped down on the tears and anger wanting to surge up. Crying or yelling wouldn't help. Like usual it was her against the world. "Problem with the light?"
"Dimmer isn't working, but I think I found the problem. And don't change the subject." He reached up with the pliers, moving one of the wires out of the way. "Why would you break up on the way back from the hospital? I don't think much of a man who would do such a thing."
Neil shifted while working at the wires and the chair shifted under him, the back hitting the table. An edge of the chandelier tilted off the edge of the table, causing the rest of it to start to follow.
Tish moved forward as Neil gave a shout. She grabbed the thin metal rim of the chandelier before the antique hanging crystals could fall and shatter on the floor. The bag slipped out of her hands to land hard on the table and several bottles of medication rolled out across the surface.
Neil grabbed one as it went over the edge on his side. He tossed it in the air and re-caught it, looked down to read it while his other hand pushed the pliers into a slot on his belt. "Nice catch. Maria would kill me if the chandelier broke."
Tish felt her face go hot as she grabbed the rest of the bottles and stuffed them back in the bag. She held out a hand for the other bottle, but Neil ignored her.
"It's none of your business," she said pointedly.
Just as pointedly his gray eyes leveled on her. "Psipheron? You're a psi? You've never mentioned this."
Tish gulped, feeling like her entire world was about to careen out of control and crash around her ears. "No, it's not what you think. I'm not a psi!"
She whirled at a soft gasp. Maria Getty, her black hair pulled back into a loose bun, stood at the entry of the dining room with a smaller toolbox in her hand.
"Oh dear," Maria muttered. She walked swiftly to the table and set the toolbox down. With one more wide-eyed survey of Tish from her feet to her head she rushed back out, again muttering, "Oh dear."
None of which made sense. Or did it?
She realized just what it could mean. It could be used as an excuse to void her lease on the small bedroom she called home if she were viewed as dangerous, especially with children in the house. The Gettys depended on the extra income the room rentals brought into the household. Her new status could keep other renters away.
Oh, no, what would it mean for her job hunt?
She turned to Neil. "I'll take another evaluation test if it would make you feel better. I'm not crazy, and I'm not a psi. I don't need this stuff, and I'll be throwing it out. I took a test before leaving the hospital and I didn't show up at all."
Neil let a small metal bracket fall to the table top. Tish cringed. Maria would throw a fit if her table was marred in any way. He took her upper arm and propelled her into the back of the house and into a corner of the big kitchen.
"First, do not throw it out," Neil ground out, letting her grab the bottle out of his hands. She stuffed it back into the bag with the other bottles.
He stopped and took a deep breath, pushing a hand through his hair. "The bottle has a tracker in it. They'll know the moment you throw it out, and you don't want to give them any reason to come for you and force you to take the medication."
Tish couldn't help the physical cringe. Force to take the pills and forced to endure the potentially massive side-effects? "Fine, then I'll keep it and stuff it in a drawer."
"And when it comes time for a new supply?" Mr. Getty asked.
She looked down at the bag in her hand. "They can tell if the pills are taken, can't they."
"The rumor is they can. So, figure you have about thirty days to figure out what you are going to do, and then you'll have big hard questions to answer to authorities who are not kind to psis."
"I'm not a psi," she whispered. Good grief, a simple procedure to fix a heart valve and it turned into this kind of a disaster.
Maria pulled out a chair from the long kitchen table, guiding her to it and pushing her down. "Tell us what happened."
With the Gettys staring down at her, Tish stuttered her way through what she knew. Of dying on the operating table, and then waking up, but still with her body flat-lined. Of all the psi measuring devices in the operating room going off the charts for a few seconds. And then she'd come back to life.
She couldn't look at them as she spoke. She didn't want to see echoes of Walt's face in theirs. So, as she spoke, her eyes ran across the room. From the polished warm wood of the cabinet doors to the lacy and light curtains hanging over the windows.
It sounded so bad to her ears. Like a big whopper of a tail told by a pathological liar. She wished she could go back, think about it, and explain it better. In a way where she wouldn't come out of the story looking so strange and odd, and potentially dangerous.
"The psi test before I left the hospital came back negative," Tish added for good measure. "Every test I've taken my whole life has come back negative."
Maria slipped into the chair on the other side of the table, her face cringing and then relaxing. "Past tests can mean nothing. We've all heard stories about a traumatic event bringing it out."
"But I've tested absolutely negative on every test they've thrown at me. I am not a psi," she repeated.
"What is important is that the government believes you are," Neil interjected settling int
o another chair at the table. "And our government has not been kind to them since the attack."
Her heart sunk even more.
He was right. More than right. The People's Rights Brigade, led by a closet-psi and making use of other psi's, had nearly toppled a local government. The regulations and laws that came down after had been the stuff to make newsgroups and lawyers salivate. Challenges were still working their way through the court, but the government had successfully lobbied the courts to allow them to continue with their control of all psis until a legal decision was made.
And it meant something quite clear to her.
She mentally pictured the three young sons of the Gettys, all with Neil's gray eyes and Maria's thick dark hair. What if she really was a danger to others? What if she really did have suppressed mental abilities despite all the tests stating otherwise? Could she be a danger to the entire Getty family?
She gripped the bag even harder, shifting to the edge of the chair to prepare to stand up. "I can't stay here. I need to move."
CHAPTER TWO
NEIL NODDED. "YES, need to move."
"Oh dear, you've done pale. You need something to drink." Maria patted her arm as she rose from her chair.
A moment later Tish found a hot cup of coffee slid in front of her. One of the children ran through, crying his starvation, but a quick warning from Maria and a low command by Neil had him scurrying back outside to his playmates.
Steam slowly rose off the surface of the coffee. She slowly poured creamer into it, watching billowing clouds of white emerge from the bottom. Her head spun in time with the cloud of creamer. And just as the creamer dissipated into the coffee, so did any answers to her fast-running questions.
She picked up a spoon and stirred, making the last of the clouds disappear.
Just like her life had just disappeared.
She took a sip, enjoying the sharp taste and almost too-hot temperature. She could sense the Gettys still sitting quietly next to her. Her mind might be in turmoil, but her heart warmed with their concern. They wanted her to move, but still they stayed close. They were still friends.
Coffee Cup Dreams (A Redpoint One Romance) Page 1