Pushed to the Limit (Quid Pro Quo 1)
Page 7
SYDNEY...
Sometime later she stirred, refusing to surface from the warm cocoon of sleep that enveloped her, yet drawn by the voice in her head. She turned restlessly, her fingers clenching and unclenching the quilt.
So sleepy...why was Kenneth trying to wake her?
Sydney my love...
The eerie sound whispered through her. She moaned in protest, tried to drive away that which disturbed her. Flipping to her other side, she got tangled in the covers but didn’t have the will to fight them. Dressed in his yellow shirt, Kenneth stood waiting for her.
Another dream. How many more?
Sydney, my love, I’m waiting. Come to me.
Half-awake now, she felt the need to stop this fantasizing which held only anguish. Her eyes flew open to a darkened room and she tried to get her bearings. She felt hazy and disoriented. Could barely focus. Even so, she pushed herself up to her elbows and tried.
Her jaw fell slack at the apparition before her.
Arms extended in welcome, a figure was silhouetted in the doorway leading out to the deck. A man wearing a yellow shirt.
“Kenneth.”
The room began whirling. She closed her eyes, rubbed them and looked again. Nothing. Gone. He wasn’t really there. Another dream. Or an illusion.
Seconds later she realized the room shouldn’t be pitch black.
Her pulse quickened.
Sydney.
From beyond the open double doors came a whisper which had to be real.
“Kenneth?”
A breeze swept through the room in answer. And one of the outside storm shutters that surrounded every window in the house banged against its frame, startling her further. The doors to the deck were open. She hadn’t touched them before going to bed, had she? Trying to remember as she sat up, Sydney felt the room float around her. While her head was light, her hand was equally heavy when she fumbled for the switch to the night light.
Something metal skittered across the night stand surface. Her hand shot after the object and, in the process, nicked the glass, making it crash to the floor.
“Damn.”
Sydney found the switch. The soft light caught the object that lay near the edge of the night stand.
A ring.
Heart pounding, she retrieved it. Nugget-textured outside, smooth inside. Her ring. Impossible. Hers was at the bottom of the ocean. She ran a fingertip inside the circle and felt a faint etching. Turning it to the light, she fought to read. Her eyes wouldn’t focus properly. She squeezed her lids shut, then tried again.
Kenneth loves Sydney
“Oh, my God. Kenneth!” she cried.
She scrambled out of bed, but her knees wouldn’t hold her.
Sydney...
The voice came from beyond the porch, from the fog-shrouded grounds. She had to get there, had to get to Kenneth. Why wouldn’t her legs cooperate? The room seemed to be heaving. Fiercely, she clutched the ring and forced her legs to move toward the open doors. She heard a banging noise somewhere – a loose shutter again? – but she could no more focus her mind on the sound than on anything else.
“Kenneth, where are you?” she called, bursting out onto the deck in confusion.
“Sydney?” Both voice and noise sounded closer.
She forced her feet to move, caught a glimpse of someone below in the fog. A shadowy figure...
“Sydney.”
Behind her, the voice made her whirl. Her legs refused to hold fast and she flew back hard against the rail whose wood shrieked from the jarring weight. The ring went flying... followed by a horrified Sydney.