by Su Williams
“So you know,” I said, and hung my head, wished for curtains of thick long hair to hide my shame.
He dropped to his knees on the floor in front of me. His hands shook, restrained as he warred with the desire to hold me, yet he was still afraid to touch me. “Emari, don’t,” his voice came with a gentle force, quiet, from deep within him. His trembling hand finally touched my face. I winced but didn’t pull away. He lifted my chin to look into his eyes. “Emari,” he whispered, “you did nothing wrong. It was all him.” His warm hand cupped my face and he gazed into my soul. “And I swear to you,” he said solemnly, “I will find that, animal, and I will kill him for what he did to you.”
His memories of me that first night after the attack played before my mind like a horror movie. Nick relived every moment of the attack with me; his gut turned cold with fear, his heart raced for freedom, the blows bruised his face, his body—so great was his empathy towards me. In return, I felt his sorrow, his anger, his compassion. I whined and pulled away, gratefully shattered the images, as the intensity of his emotions overwhelmed me.
He sat for several long moments, caressed my hand with his thumb, and gazed intently into my eyes. Without a word, he willed me to believe in him, to trust him. Slowly a warm peace drifted over me, and my eyelids fluttered. I nodded myself awake, “Nick, please. I don’t want to forget,” I murmured drowsily. He pulled my head to his shoulder and slid my body down onto the bed. “Please. Don’t make me forget.” I clutched weakly at his shirt, but I heard his relinquished sigh.
“As you wish. Now sleep.” He kissed my forehead. I felt heavy, warm, content. “Sleep, my love,” I could have sworn he whispered and that his lips lightly brushed my cheek as he spoke; like a butterfly kiss, his breath warm and sweet upon my face. From deep inside myself, I could hear the quiet rustle of his clothes as he moved, picked up Eddyson and tucked him in at my side.
Chapter 10 Black Velvet
Misty coral light bathed the Eastern sky, the trees and valleys still cloaked in darkness. The pink morning stretched its fingers across the hard frozen farmland that billowed and rolled in shimmering waves of white. Winter obscured the land that, in the summer, was the epitome of America’s ‘amber waves of grain.’ The gleam of the snow chased away the stark nakedness that winter cast on the land.
My room felt nearly as barren when I awoke to find Nick gone, and it frightened me. What if it had all been a dream or I made it all up? Although, since when did I remember my dreams in such vivid detail? When did I remember them at all? Maybe I was crazy and just too much in denial to own up to it.
At least he was true to his word; I could still remember him—him, the entire conversation, and every memory he imparted to me. I sighed and rolled over to find Eddyson staring curiously up at me, his paint-dipped tail thumped loudly on the bed. “Morning, Puppa. Come come. Snug up.” He inched closer on his round little belly and tucked himself against my chest.
Eddyson’s body was warm, soft, like a living teddy bear—my teddy puppy. I closed my eyes, stroked his velvet fur, tried to block out the harsh reality that a strange man had broken into my home. I didn’t want to think about that part, as if denial would make it somehow less true, less dangerous.
As the pink morning melted into a glimmering crystal day, I finally roused myself from my reverie. Eddy yawned and blinked his bleary eyes. My morning stretch was disturbing his beauty sleep. I found his softest part, the patch of fur behind his ear, and raked my nails through it. He cocked his head happily to give me better access to the spot and rolled his eyes in bliss. After a few moments, his teeth pricked my hand with playful bites. I tousled him around on the bed, flipped him over and scratched his fat tummy as he bit at me with mock ferocity.
Finally, having delayed the start of my day long enough, I let the puppy out into the yard, and searched for the new tea I’d been drinking. I checked the tin, the drawers and cabinets but I couldn’t find it. I didn’t remember running out. Somehow, I knew Nick had something to do with it. I made a mental note to ask him, and brewed some fresh coffee instead. That actually sounded better today anyway.
While I watched the last of the water splutter into the small four-cup carafe, I contemplated potential outcomes of last night’s encounter. Naturally, for me, it didn’t take long for my cynical side to rear its ugly head. What if he doesn’t come back? Maybe he would just never return, in spite of my knowledge of him. What if he was just one more person to abandon me with yet one more nightmare to haunt me? My private psychical ghosts loomed in the darkness of night to vex me and drive me to madness. Not a little melodramatic, are we?
After his morning romp, I bundled Eddyson up in his fleecy baby blanket and snuggled him. I ruffled the pup’s fur with the blanket to dry him off and held his soft cold ears in my hands to warm them up. I was just unbundling him, when I heard a car door slam and gentle rap at the back door a moment later. I glanced out the kitchen window, and recognized Jesse’s car. His grinning mug peered in at me. I grinned back and poked the numbers on the alarm pad to let him in.
“Jesse!” I greeted him with a one-armed hug.
“Hey Em! Whatcha got there?” With a pearly grin, he eyed Eddyson. His rich brown eyes flashed quickly from my face to the pup in my arms.
“This is my new guard dog, Eddyson. Isn’t he adorable?”
“Sure,” he replied, hesitant. “Shouldn’t you be shooting for vicious, though?”
I bristled slightly. “I suppose that was the original idea, but I think he’s here to guard my sanity more than anything else.”
I led Jesse to the living room, where we plopped down on the couch. Eddyson curled up in my lap for his mid-morning nap. Jesse fidgeted and watched his anxious hands. His eyes avoided my face.
“You look really good,” he finally said.
“How would you know? You’re hardly looking at me.” I tried to be gentle. I knew this had to be painfully rough for him. His face flushed. Finally, his eyes met mine, and I could see all the pain, all the grief inside him. And something else, something arcane, something dark and excruciating and buried, deep.
“I’m sorry, Em. It’s just…”
I reached over and squeezed his hand. “Jesse, I’m so sorry this has been so hard on you. I can only imagine what a mess I was. That couldn’t have been easy for you to see. I want you to know how grateful I am for all of your support. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”
Jesse’s eyes filled with tears. He laced his fingers through mine and wrapped my small hand between both of his. “Em, I didn’t know what to do. Your face…there was so much blood…I was afraid I’d hurt you just to touch you.” The memories choked him. I imagined myself, what I had looked like after the attack, through his eyes. I had been a bloody mess, with gaping wounds on my face and head, my clothes torn and disheveled. I remembered the look in his eyes when he realized this was not a simple case of assault; his grief and rage still haunted me as much as anything else.
“I’m okay now, Jess,” I squeezed his hand again for reassurance. “I’m okay partly because you came for me, because you got the help I needed, even if I didn’t want it at the time. You took care of me when I couldn’t take care of myself.”
“Well, I, care about you, Em. It makes me crazy what that guy did to you. I swear if I found out who he was, I’d kill him with my bare hands.”
Well, well, my second offer for murder committed on my account. “Jess,” I didn’t know what else to say.
Jesse was quiet for a few moments as he reined in his fury, his eyes focused again on that deep and faraway place. I wondered what he saw when his eyes drifted to that place. “So, Ivy is kind of freaking out without you,” he finally said. “You should probably come in and see her soon.” The soft Hispanic accent colored his voice, and made me smile.
“Do you think I look okay enough to be in public?”
He scanned my face. “I’m actually pretty amazed at how great you look, after, what? Ten days?” He fidg
eted, tentative, unsure if he should mention how long it had been.
“Closer to eight,” I said to give him the impression of confidence. He’d had enough of the drama that was my life lately already. I needed to be strong, not just for myself but also for him. I needed him to be confident that I was doing all right. I still didn’t have the fortitude to hold everyone else together but at least I needed them to believe I was holding my own.
Reluctantly, Jesse slid to the front of the couch and released my hand. “I should be going.” He stood and strolled to the kitchen. I gingerly placed Eddyson on the couch and followed Jesse to where he’d stopped, the doorknob clutched in his hand. “You really should come see Ivy. She needs to see for herself that you’re alive.”
I took his hand in mine, “I will. Soon. I promise. Tell her for me, that I’ll come into town in the next day or so to see her. I’ve got to look for something anyway.”
He squeezed my hand and lingered a few more moments at the door, his emotions still stooped his shoulders as they weighed heavily on his heart. “You really do look great, Em,” he finally said. “I’m really glad to see that you’re all right.”
Score! I’d convinced him. “Thanks.” I held my arms open for a hug. A self-conscious smile leapt to his face. He glanced at my eyes and then to the floor, but stepped into my embrace. “Jesse. It’s not even me anymore,” I said, reminding him of the last time he left me and I’d pulled away from him. I felt his tense muscles relax slightly, as if I had removed some of the weight from his shoulders, but he didn’t know what to say in return so he remained silent. His arms around me solidified his assurance of my safety. It made me alive and well, and replaced the last brutal images of me in his mind. We hugged all the time. That’s just the kind of friends we were. He had needed this, though, to see me and touch me, to cement in his heart that I was truly okay.
He stepped away, shy and reluctant. “I’ll see you soon,” he grinned. The muscles in his face curved naturally, authentically; not a put on smile for my benefit, but a genuine, honest smile that carried the warmth of the sun. The kind that belonged on his face and inoculated anyone close by. “And I’ll let Ivy know you’re coming soon, too. Before she drives us all nuts.”
“Thanks Jess.” I watched as Jesse walked past my car in the carport and got into his own. I waved as he drove away, and reset the alarm system.
My cell phone broke the silence. It was playing “Dream Weaver” by Gary Wright. Okay. I know I didn’t do that. I allowed the song to play through as I hunted down my phone in the bedroom and discovered a text.
Good morning.
Good morning to you…Nick??? I typed.
Yes. Um, hope that was OK…the song…thought you might get a kick.
No. It’s totally cool!! I smiled, texting furiously. I marveled at his use of something as mundane as text messaging to communicate, but I’m not sure what I expected. A voice from heaven maybe?
Are you sure?
It’s all good.
May I visit?
So formal. When?
Now?
Sure…
On my way. 2 minutes.
I glanced at the clock. I would time him. Before the two minutes elapsed, Nick Benedetti, the Dream Weaver, stood knocking quietly on the kitchen door. I smiled. It’s a back door kind of day. What does that plaque say? ‘Back door friends are best.’ I disarmed the system, and opened the door to let him in. He walked in, head low, shy or maybe embarrassed.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi,” he said as he pushed the door closed. He froze for a moment with his hand on the knob and stared at the floor. “Was someone here?”
“Yes,” I said hesitantly. “How did you know that?”
“He’s very—concerned about you.”
“He was. He’s cool now, though.”
“He has very strong feelings for you. Are you…?” he looked at me pointedly.
“Jesse? No. Jesse is my friend from work. He’s the one who found me after the, uh, attack. He called for help, stayed with me.”
His hand dropped from the doorknob and he stood silently facing me, that hesitant look returned to his eyes. “I probably shouldn’t be here. I just wanted to check on you. Make sure you were okay.”
I reached for his arm but my fingers veered away, still hesitant to touch this stranger. “I’m good.”
“Yeah. So—I should probably go…” He turned to the door.
“You can stay. Will you tell me more?”
“I probably shouldn’t.”
“What? Stay? Or tell me more?”
“Either.”
Something in me couldn’t let him go. With trembling fingers, I took his hand in mine and led him to the couch, but sat on the opposite end with Eddyson tucked in beside me. Eddyson stretched and yawned, and padded across the cushions to curl up with his head in Nick’s lap.
“He’s very smart, you know,” Nick smiled and stroked the pup’s body, still not looking up.
“That he is. And you’ve done a wonderful job training him.”
At this, he finally looked up and smiled sheepishly. “Figured it out, have ya?”
“Oh yeah.” Of course, I had. In the night, while I slept peacefully, after Nick chased away the bad dreams, he worked with Eddyson on new commands. “I do have a few questions I’m not sure on, though.” With this, his eyes dropped again.
Nick shook his head, muttered under his breath—something about Sabre not liking this. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers interlaced and drew in a bracing breath. “Okay. What is it you want to know?” Eddy waddled back across the couch to cuddle up against my side. He yawned again, tilted his head back to look up at me with a plea that, perhaps I might remain still for his late-mid-morning nap. His puppy-blue eyes blinked once, and then closed.
“Well, do you just implant the memory into his mind so he remembers a command?”
Nick chuckled softly. “No. Dog’s brains aren’t as complex as human’s brains. They’re wired differently, more instinctive than humans.”
“I read a quote once, something about how instinct is just a kind of memory. That doesn’t sound right. My dad used to say that animals are ‘hard-wired’ from birth. They just know stuff.”
“I think your dad is more accurate. Animals may learn instinct, and yeah it would be a memory, but no one teaches a salmon to swim upstream…or a fawn not to move when danger is present.”
I smiled at Nick. He’d found that memory of the fawn down by the creek. He glanced up and returned my smile. “I was just thinking about that fawn the other day.”
“I know. That memory helped you remember me,” he said. “I was hoping that memory would help you not to be afraid of me—if you drifted.”
“Drifted?”
“Um…you had vague memories of my visits despite my efforts to erase them. Your memories drifted.”
I just nodded, not sure what to say to that. “So, training Eddyson…”
“Well,” he continued quietly, “it comes down to plain, old-fashioned training to teach him a new command.” He paused, “Then I implant the command in your head.” He glanced up to gauge my reaction, watched me mischievously from under his dark lashes.
I ran my hand down the length of Eddy’s warm little body. I wasn’t quite sure what I thought of Nick rummaging around in my memories uninvited, though he hadn’t harmed me in any way.
“Once you’re asleep, I nab him and bring him into the living room for a training session. When I’m done, I tuck him back in and transfer the info to you, as though you were the one doing the training instead of me.”
“Aw, poor baby,” I cooed sympathetically, and caressed the pup’s fur. “I knew he seemed over-tired, even for a baby.”
Nick chuckled. “He’s smart and learns fast. I didn’t keep him up long.”
“Are you responsible for plowing my drive so I could go puppy shopping?”
“You make it sound like a bad thing—but yes. I needed…I want
ed you to have someone, something warm to be with you—so you weren’t so alone. Humans aren’t meant to be alone.” He bit the inside of his cheek and looked away from me.
“Are you human?”
“I bleed like any other human. I just heal fast. And I’ll live longer. Age exceptionally slower.”
“So, how do you make me go to sleep?”
“We believe it’s just part of the magic. A safety mechanism so you don’t know we’ve been there. Kind of like a mosquito bite.” He scowled at himself and I heard him breathe the name of Sabre, again, like a curse on his lips.
“So, who is Sabre and why do you give a flip what he thinks?” I challenged him.
“Sabre’s my friend—my mentor. We’ve been together for decades, a century here in another four years or so.”
“Together?” I eyed him significantly with a teasing tone and a playful smile.
That broke the ice. He laughed a little more freely, “Not like that. We’re friends. Buds. Best mates.”
“Aw. So what’s the big deal?”
“Sabre is of the old school of Dream Weavers. ‘We’re not meant to associate with humans,’” he said in what I was sure was a fair interpretation of what this Sabre sounded like, just a hint of some forgotten dialect. “Any good immortal knows that. It’s the unwritten code. ‘There are mortals and there are immortals and never the twain shall meet.’”
“I see. And you? You don’t agree with Sabre?”
“I do. I did, until recently. I guess I’m starting to wonder.”
“Why is that?” I pressed, like an investigative reporter digging for the dish.
His face flushed and his eyes darted away. He was cute when he was embarrassed, more human. His silence stretched several moments, as he wrestled with a confession that struggled for release. A small smile twitched on his lips. “Because of you.” His eyes found mine, in search of my response.
It was my turn to blush. “Me? Really?” I searched his face for the truth—and I found it, even when his shy eyes darted away.
“Ha. Yeah. Really.” He chanced a bigger smile, but it vanished when our gazes locked. “I only meant to chase away the nightmares.” The remorse overflowed his voice, so deep and devastating it puzzled and pained me. His words wrenched unwillingly from his heart, as if he regretted his decision to continue visiting me. “There was just so much pain. You were so—alone—hurting so badly.” His words tumbled and broke like a stream over winter snows. “I just couldn’t leave you.” His voice quavered and he stared out the window in silence for a few moments to collect himself, and gather the confidence to continue. I was starting to realize just how much he was putting his trust in me. “And then, I…” The words broke off, a murdered thought.