In
the Wake of a Dream
Dreamdrifter series (Book 1)
Sasha
Strack
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 Sasha Strack.
ISBN 978-1-465-76161-3
For
more information about the author and
series:
http://www.sashastrack.blogspot.com
Edited and formatted by Kye Fehrenbach.
Cover design by Ronnell Porter.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
CONTENTS
Prologue
1.
The Dreamcatcher Boy
2.
The Awkward Dinner
3.
The
Dream
4.
The Appalachian
5.
The Holan
6.
The Creed
7.
Josephine
8.
The Surface
9.
The Newcomer
10.
Eli
11.
The Party
12.
Caleb
13.
The Teacher
14.
The Ladder
15.
The Dreamdrifter
16.
The Utopian
17.
In the Wake of a Dream
See beauty to behold,
In the ache of a beam
Touch
hearts bold,
In the make of a seam
Smell love rolled,
In a
cake of cream
Taste finest gold,
In the take of a stream
Hear
stories unfold,
In the sake of redeem
Know truth will be
told,
In the wake of a dream
–
Dreamdrifter psalm
Prologue
Six years passed before I decided to forget my dreams.
I hated my dreams.
But I hated one dream in particular.
Like a tornado this dream would rip through my life, leaving me shattered. With this reoccurring ruin in mind, I determined to take control of my life.
I built a routine. I would rise each morning and forget the dream as quickly as possible, refusing to reflect once freed, the chains of the dream falling away, cowards against determination, leaving no scars.
My routine worked for a while. I began each morning with four motions: Eyes open, covers thrown off, feet on the floor, dream forgotten. I liked to combine the last two, racing to forget my dream by the time my feet hit the wooden floor of my bedroom. I was slowly getting better, becoming a master of self-distraction, each night’s dream rejected faster than the last.
I had won it seemed. I had conquered the night and taken control of the dream. Empowered, I realized that I could do or be anything. I just had to choose my dream. I couldn’t have known that my dream would choose me.
1. The Dreamcatcher Boy
I awoke, stung by the night.
In its wake I felt the fresh, pulsing bite. My skin tingled and my heart raced. I tossed the covers away. My feet hit the floor with my defenses. I had been caught off guard. The dream had come from behind.
It had been the dream. The dream I had been pushing away for six years. The dream I hadn’t relived in five months. The dream I had believed my determination could destroy.
I felt the warmth before I knew I was crying. Flushed, I leapt from the bed. I would not give in like this. I would not lose control. Standing, I inhaled deep, soothing breaths that calmed my heart.
Gazing around the room, I drank in the mess. The furniture was haphazard, that was the most obvious problem. My bed was crooked, the cushions were in disarray on the foldout couch, and everything from books to wrappers littered the floor. The cave was the room at the bottom of the staircase. Couches lined its wood paneled sides and a pellet stove stood in the corner where an old fashioned iron once stood. Walking through the cave, I continued up three stone steps and into the kitchen.
Dad walked in from the backyard. He was dressed in a white shirt and khaki pants. The tie slung over his shoulder would make its way around his neck as he sat in traffic on the way downtown. There he was, the professor.
“Ready for your first day?” Dad asked.
“Yes,” I replied. “But I’m a bit nervous.”
Dad nodded. “I was always nervous before term started. Now I’m teaching and I’m still nervous!” He snorted with self-deprecating amusement. “Abnormal Psychology, you?”
“Intro to Psychology with Adia Arrowheart,” I reeled off.
Dad looked surprised. “You have Dr. Arrowheart?”
Sighing, I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. “You recommended her, remember?”
“Not really,” Dad replied. “But you’ll love her. She specialized in clinical depression.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Anyway, I’d better get going,” he added, opening the refrigerator and grabbing a water bottle. “Be on time!” Leaning against the counter, I returned his wink before watching him descend into the cave and out through the front door. “Have a good first day!” Dad called.
Today was my first day of college. However, Dad and I would be heading in two different directions. While Dad would spend the semester driving to Johns Hopkins University, I would be going to Carroll Community College until I decided what to study. I could transfer later.
While in the bathroom upstairs, I peeked in the mirror above the sink. A skinny, eighteen year old girl stared back at me, her red pixie hair revealing ears that sat like question marks on the sides of her face. She smiled at me before turning away.
I dressed hurriedly after showering. I didn’t put on my jeans but fell into them and didn’t put on my bra but wrestled with it to comply. A shirt and backpack over my shoulder later I was running down the stairs.
Score was parked across the dirt driveway. My Celica was named Score for two reasons: its considerable age and the fact that I loved it regardless. Soon I was speeding up my long, dirt driveway at fifty, ignoring the tiny rocks that bounced and dived around the car frame like dolphins around a cruise ship.
Open acres stretched for miles and trees waved at me from the landscape of horse and cattle farms. Suburbia was whizzing by at sixty-five miles an hour and Westminster was fast approaching. Ten minutes later I pulled into the parking lot at Carroll Community College.
The main building was comprised of glass, red bricks, and high, vaulted roofs. I zigzagged through the crowd of people, passing under light posts and sporadically placed trees. I climbed the staircase inside while retrieving a piece of paper that I had scribbled on earlier. It read: LAB, 219.
A man crossed the top of the staircase.
“Excuse me!” I panted, reaching the top and feeling infinitely out of shape. The man was older, probably a professor. “Am I in the right building?” I handed him the scribbled note.
He looked down at the paper. “Yes.”
“LAB?”
“Liberal Arts Building,” he said. He pointed down the hallway. “Your room is just down the hall there.”
“Thanks.” Following his directions, I stopped at a line of students protruding from a doorway.
Two girls were talking in low voices. Regardless, I could hear what they were saying. “I don’t understand,” said the blonde of the two. “They never do this.”
“What’re they doing?” I asked.
The blonde girl turned to me, her silver eyes sweeping me into the gossip stream. “Dr. Arrowheart is assigning seats. Professors never assign seats.”
“That’s strange,” I said.
“Yeah,” she enunciated. “Class should have started ten minutes ago.” The line, however, was quickly dispersed as Dr. Arrowheart assigned each student a seat. Soon it was my turn.
The woman standing before me was short and black. Her hair was long, shining with red highlights, and dispatched into a weave that allowed it to curl around her voluptuous bosom. Blood red tint layered her eyelids and an enormous, metallic dreamcatcher necklace matched her earrings.
“Name?” Dr. Arrowheart spoke clearly.
“Annie McGallagher.”
Dr. Arrowheart, despite having assigned the previous girl her seat without so much as looking at her, gazed at me. “You’re Martin McGallagher’s daughter…third from the back on the right side, middle.” I was taken aback by the short exchange.
“Thanks,” I said, allowing my tone to curdle the word. Turning, I walked down the center aisle of the classroom. Finding my seat, I caught the internal whiff of a headache approaching. Sighing, I brought my palm to my face.
“Not feeling well?”
I looked to my left. My heart was instantly thrumming in my chest.
The boy sitting next to me was brighter than the sun. Brilliant hazel eyes burned above full lips that smiled above a thick, muscular body. A v-neck shirt revealed a rugged upper chest and a curling tattoo that dipped downward like a necklace. His hair was messy and yet flawless as it lay dirty blonde on his head like the luckiest hat ever. He was like reflected gold.
“What?” I stammered.
“Are you not feeling well?”
“I – I’m alright. It’s just a headache.”
“Oh,” he said. “I thought it might have been her.” He motioned to the front of the room where Dr. Arrowheart was assigning seats to the final stragglers. “I was watching.” It was difficult not to hyperventilate while gazing at him. Those hazel eyes threatened to explode a bombshell of desire in me. He smiled. “I’m Ash.”
“I’m Annie.”
“And I’m Dr. Arrowheart,” Adia said, taking center stage. “I will be your professor for Intro to Psychology, Social and Behavioral Sciences, during this summer session. We’ll be meeting on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays for the rest of July. My expertise is in clinical depression. Any questions?” As I watched Adia stare down her classroom, I realized something. I didn’t like her. “Wonderful!” Adia continued. “Let’s get started.” She turned back to the desk to deposit her clipboard.
She whirled around. “Sex!”
The blonde girl looked up with her mouth agape, her furious texting of a second ago forgotten. Another girl spluttered on her coffee and a third dropped her pen. I looked at Ash.
“Sex is the defining characteristic of our personalities,” Adia said. “Or that’s what some psychologists believed.” Adia smiled. “Who is considered the father of modern psychology?”
A boy raised his hand. “Freud?”
“Sigmund Freud.” Retrieving a piece of chalk, Adia walked to the blackboard.
Ash chuckled. “I think he had it right.”
“Freud is most famous for his thoughts on the subconscious mind,” Adia continued, her back turned to the class as she scribbled. “He said that sex and sexuality define our subconscious minds.”
“What do you think?”
Startled, I met Ash’s eyes. “Sorry, what?’
“Do you think we are defined by our subconscious minds?” His eyes were boring into mine, his muscular body tensed.
“Oh,” I said. “I’m not sure.”
His eyes left mine and wondered to Adia as though for help. His body relaxed but seemed to deflate simultaneously. My thoughts were racing and confused. Had he been serious?
Dusting the chalk from her hands, Adia turned back to the class. “What was Freud talking about when he referred to ‘the royal road to the subconscious’?” The room was silent. Ash twitched. “Dreams,” Adia murmured, leaning against her desk. “Freud said that dreams are the royal road to the subconscious mind. Dreams take place on a stage called the subconscious mind. Remember that.” She went back to the blackboard. “Take down these notes.” Adia freed the class two hours later. Students gathered their books before loading them into backpacks and large purses.
“Want to grab lunch?” Ash asked.
“Of course,” I said too quickly. “I mean, yes.” We left the room. The sun had risen to its highest point. Closing my eyes, I listened as the outside door to the building closed behind us, signaling freedom.
“Feeling better?” Ash asked.
“Yeah, I guess,” I said. “It’s just been a crazy day.”
“How about that Dr. Arrowheart, huh?”
“She’s interesting,” I said. “Definitely knows what she’s talking about.”
“I’d hope so!” Ash’s hazel eyes danced in the sunlight. “So about that bite,” he continued. “Dining hall?”
“Sure,” I answered. “But I don’t know where it is. This is my first day on campus, my first day of college actually.”
“Seriously?” Ash smiled. “Why psych?”
“I want to help people,” I replied. “Maybe be a social worker or something.”
“Why do you want to help people?” Ash asked, leading the way.
“It’s just the thing to do, isn’t it?” I asked, following him.
“Is it?” Ash said. “I bet there’s a reason you want to help people.”
“Maybe,” I allowed.
“Maybe as in maybe you’ll tell me why you want to help people,” he said.
I hid my smile. “Maybe as in maybe I’ll answer your question if you’ll answer a few of mine.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Ash said.
“Of course,” I replied. “We’re here!”
The dining hall had more windows than the surrounding buildings. Apart from that distinction, however, it was painfully unadvertised. The blowing of the air conditioner greeted our steps as we walked inside. The cool air felt wonderful against the humidity of the day.
“I have a meal card,” Ash said. “I’ll swipe for both of us.” After swiping his card, Ash led me into the main cafeteria section. “What kind of food do you like?”
“I’m not picky,” I answered.
“How about salad?” Ash asked, leading me to the bar.
I nodded. “Salad’s alright.”
“I love Caesar salad,” he said, piling his plate full. “Have some.”
I followed his lead. “I’m being so good. Usually I go right for the pizza.”
Ash chuckled. “You can always hit up the pizza for seconds,” he said. Choosing a two person table, we sat down beside a large window. “Anything to drink?” Ash asked, setting his tray down. “I get coffee.”
“I like orange juice.” I began to rise but he stayed me with his hand. “You sit tight right there. I got it.”
My eyes followed him across the room to the beverage bar. I was attempting to wrench my gaze from his every movement but it was impossible. Instead, I smiled at him as he came back, drinks in hand.
“So ask me a question,” he said, throwing himself into his seat and flourishing his fork, already having speared a crouton.
Unfortunately, I had already started on my salad. As I opened my mouth to respond, a huge piece of lettuce covered in Caesar dressing clung to my lip. Horrified, I slurped it up too quickly, spraying dressing over my chin.
Ash was kind enough to distract me from myself. “You said that you would answer my question if I answered yours,” he reminded. “So go ahead, ask me!”
“Oh, right,” I said, wiping my chin with a napkin. I considered Ash, drinking in his fantastic body along with my pleasantly cold orange juice. His thick, muscular arms were veined and tanned. I had nothing. “How old are you?”
“Seriously?” Ash raised his eyebrows. My heart pinged off my chest. “That’s your question?”
“My first question,” I amended.
“Nineteen,” he answered.
“Are you a freshman?”
“I’m not really in college,” he said. “Just taking a class.”
“A class?”
“Just the one,” he said.
“Like me?”
“Like you,” he agreed.
“Any siblings?” I asked, turning a crouton to dust beneath my molars.
“An older sister and a younger brother.”
I nodded. “What do your parents do?”
His face fell but only for a second. “They were…” Ash paused. “Social workers.”
“Were social workers?”
“I’m an orphan.”
“Oh,” I murmured. “I’m sorry, Ash. How long –”
“Ago? Six years and counting,” he said. “So I’m only days away from finally figuring out the laundry. I know it!”
I smiled sadly. “That’s a useful skill to have.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Who told you?”
“You, just now,” he said cheekily. “One last question and then it’s my turn.”
I scanned my brain and his body for another question. And then I saw it, what I had missed before. The tattoo curled downward to where it was revealed by his v-neck shirt. I felt silly for having ignored the tattoo so far, despite the rugged jaw line and sweetly cascading neck surrounding it. They exploded my concentration like landmines.
“Your tattoo, it’s a –”
“Dreamcatcher,” Ash finished for me, folding away his smile. “Yeah, but that’s not a question.” His eyes were averted as he spoke and I realized that something had happened to his posture. He had tensed. I was getting the impression that Ash didn’t want to discuss the dreamcatcher and nothing could have made me want to discuss it more.
“Here’s a question,” I said. “Why a dreamcatcher?”
He was a deer to my headlights. “I – I like dreamcatchers.”
“You like dreamcatchers?” I repeated doubtfully. “Tell me the real reason.”
“That is the real reason,” he said, blinking.
I crossed my arms before placing them on the table. “Here’s another question,” I began boldly. “Why should I answer your question when you won’t answer mine?”
“Want to go out?”
My composure popped like a balloon hitting a stalactite. “What!”
“Do you want to go out?” Ash repeated.
“With you?” I asked.
“Yup.”
It was my turn to look awkward. The difference was that I had an honest answer. “Yeah,” I breathed. “I’d like that.” Something this wonderful couldn’t be happening. I had to check. “You mean like a date, right?”
His smile widened like my hyperventilating heart.
2. The Awkward Dinner
“We’re having company tonight,” Mom said. “Martin sent out invites.” She always referred to Dad by his first name, even when talking to me.
“Who’s coming?” I asked.
“It was supposed to be a surprise,” Mom added, not looking at me but continuing to read her psychology journal. “I shouldn’t tell you. Martin went to the store but you can ask him when he gets back.” A developmental psychologist, Mom diagnosed kids with disabilities and suggested treatments. She, like Dad, was a workaholic.
Back in my room, I stepped carefully over the debris on the floor. Oscar, my chocolate Labrador retriever, reached the bed first. Lying down, I let Oscar put his head on my stomach. The equilibrium of his breathing soothed my consciousness. Sleep was easy until I was interrupted some time later.
“Annie?” Dad’s voice carried up the stairs. “Can you help bring in the groceries?”
Grabbing the remaining groceries from the car, I went into the kitchen. Dad was putting the dairy away. Mom had disappeared. The psychology journal she had been perusing lay closed on the table, a bookmark jutting from its pages.
“Where’s Mom?” I asked.
“She ran out to get lemons,” Dad replied. “We’re having salmon tonight and I forgot lemons!”
“Oh!” I remembered. “For the guests! Who’s coming again?”
“Dr. Divion and Dr. Boliers,” Dad answered, opening the refrigerator. I recognized both names but with no excitement. Jonathan Boliers was the family doctor and friend who worked at Johns Hopkins Hospital and Linford Divion was a member of the psychology faculty at the University.
“Cool,” I said unconvincingly. “But how is that a surprise?”
Dad smiled. “We’re having other guests as well.”
“Who?” I asked.
He shook his head. “It’s a surprise!”
Sighing, I sat down at the kitchen table. In an attempt to distract myself from the gnawing unknown, I opened Mom’s psychology journal and began to read. Suddenly,
I heard the front door open and then slam shut. Mom came in looking annoyed. She tossed her keys and purse on the counter. “They were out of lemons at both Weiss and Giant!” Mom exclaimed. “Why do the Arrowhearts have to be pescetarians?”
The psychology journal slipped from my hands and splashed on the floor, its pages askew. I stared at my parents in horror. “What?”
“Sarah!” Dad said. “You’ve ruined the surprise!”
I was flabbergasted. “You invited Dr. Arrowheart?”
“Martin did,” Mom said. “It was his idea.”
“Why!” I exclaimed.
Dad attempted to explain. “I thought it’d be a good bonding experience.”
“Bonding experience?” I repeated. This could not be happening. The dread was already heavy in my stomach, a brick filling its capacity.
“Martin,” Mom demanded. “We need lemons for the salmon! We have seven people to feed.”
“Seven!” I said. “Who else is coming?”
“Todd,” Dad replied. “Adia’s brother. Alright,” he continued, speaking to Mom. “I’ll go out again. We need more Pinot, anyway.”
“Get four bottles,” Mom instructed. Reaching down, she retrieved her psychology journal from the floor before leaving for the living room. Grabbing his keys from the counter, Dad also prepared to leave.
“It will be fine,” he reassured. “I bet you will thank me later for arranging the whole thing.”
“I don’t think so,” I said crossly. Secretly, however, I promised myself that I would lie if he asked me later. The hours passed surprisingly quickly. Sometime later Mom called up from the bottom of the staircase.
“The guests will be here in half an hour!” Mom said.
Dread filling me, I changed into a white, frilly summertime top. I was in the bathroom, comb in hand, attempting to get my short hair to poke around my ears when I heard them.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
The sound pinged around the room like my nerve wracked heart. My professor was outside the door. I heard the door open and voices fill the cave. They were all down there. They were all waiting for me. At the bottom of the stairs, however, I saw nobody. They had either moved to the kitchen or the patio outside. The dread almost unbearable now, I walked through the cave and into the kitchen.
Adia was sitting at the kitchen table with her legs crossed. The dreamcatcher earrings were gone, but the metallic dreamcatcher necklace of yesterday had been replaced by a sprawling, jewel lined one for today. It looked amazing on her, contrasting beautifully with her white dress.
“Hi, professor,” I said politely.
“Ms. McGallagher,” Adia replied. “It’s a pleasure to see you outside of class.”
I had to escape. My chance appeared along with Dad, his hands busy with a plate of grilled vegetables. Hurrying to assist him with the door, I leapt to freedom. Outside, the fish sizzled on the grill. The others were sitting around the patio table.
“Come join us, Annie,” Mom called. “Lin was just telling me some nice things about Dr. Arrowheart.” I went to join them, choosing a seat opposite Mom. Beside her sat Divion, a handsome man with curly brown hair.
“Speaking of which,” Boliers said. “We may as well talk about Adia while she can’t hear us.” Dr. Boliers was a rotund man nearing retirement. The family doctor, he was at least an annual guest. “So who’s got some dirt?”
“Me! Me! Me!”
The boy who had exclaimed gazed in my direction, shining me a beautiful, cream laced smile. His pearled teeth reflected Caribbean sand and his short, spiky dreads were adorable. He looked about my age. “If anyone’s got dirt on Adia, it’s me!”
“Out with it, Todd,” Boliers coaxed. “Tell us all!”
Todd rested his arms on the table. “Alright,” he began. “Once –”
“What’s happening out here?” Adia interrupted, strolling from the kitchen.
“Nothing, sis,” Todd said. “How’s life in the kitchen?”
“Could be better,” Adia answered. “This dog won’t leave me alone!”
“Oscar!” I called, half turning in my chair. “Here boy!” Oscar crept around Adia before scampering to my side. He sat down between me and Todd.
“Doggy!” Todd exclaimed, leaning over to scratch Oscar’s ears.
“That’s one cute dog, Annie,” Divion said.
“Suppertime!” Dad came busting out of the kitchen with the freshly doctored vegetable plate in hand. “Sorry for the delay.”
“As long as it’s good we’re happy to wait!” Boliers said.
“Speak for yourself, doc,” Todd said. “I’m hungry!”
“No one get up!” Dad demanded. “The grill is coming to you!”
The following hour wasn’t as terrible as I had foreseen. The banter was jovial and to my immense relief steered clear of academia for awhile. Adia hardly glanced at me for most of dinner, choosing instead to talk with my parents and their friends. But finally, as I had known it would, my luck ran out.
“Did anyone read Dr. Montframe’s article on behavioral economics in American Psychologist?” Mom asked. By now the store-bought blackberry pie had been served and the fourth bottle of wine trucked out.
“I read it,” Divion said. “It seemed like a paraphrase of his article in the APA Monitor. He ended it with the same conclusion and cited the same studies.”
“No he didn’t,” Dad said. “He may have cited some of the same sources, but his article in American Psychologist was different because he –”
“Wanna get out of here?”
Startled, I looked over. Todd was gazing at me, his smile stunning even in the choked light of dying day. Out of nowhere, I was breathless. “Sure,” I answered. “But where should we go?”
“Anywhere,” he said.
His smile spread to my face. “Let’s go.” Standing together, we snuck into the kitchen. Oscar hurried to follow our steps. The others were too distracted by their debate to notice our sudden escape. Back inside, I turned to Todd. “Should we go to the cave, upstairs, or just stay here?”
“What’s the cave?” Todd asked.
“The old cabin part of the house,” I answered, bored with my explanation. “The original building.”
“That’s so cool,” he said. “We live in an apartment.”
I was suddenly fascinated. What was Professor Arrowheart’s life really like? “Let’s go upstairs,” I said. With Oscar in our wake, we wound our way through the cave and up the staircase. Upstairs, I flicked on the light.
“Wow.” Todd’s voice was awed.
“Yeah,” I cringed. “It’s bad.”
“It’s great!” Todd exclaimed. “You have so much stuff!”
“Want to play Xbox?” I offered.
“Nah,” he replied. “I want to talk to you.”
Taken aback, I felt a huge impulse to cross my arms. I fought it off. “Okay,” I allowed. “What do you want to talk about?”
Sitting on my bed, Todd shrugged. “Ask me a question.”
This situation was reminding me of one I had experienced only yesterday. Todd and Ash, however, were two very different boys physically. Todd’s smooth neck fell into a chest of iron and his arms were strapped with thick, bulging muscle. Dark cheeks glistened with dew encrusted crystals above his cream filled smile that enticed a balloon of desire to arise in me like my self control about to pop.
“So?” Todd asked.
Realizing that I had been staring like a ghoul, I shook myself. “Oh, um…” Todd’s smile widened. “Okay,” I said. “I have a question!” I sat on the bed beside Todd, moving as Oscar jumped up beside me. My retriever always picked the wrong moment to be a guard dog. “Here goes.”
“Shoot,” Todd said.
“Give me some real dirt on Adia.”
“What’s real mean?” Todd asked.
My reply was easy. “Something she wouldn’t want me to know.”
Todd blinked. “Why do you want to know something that Adia wouldn’t want you to know?”
“If I answer honestly will you tell me?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered.
“I want something real on Adia because I don’t like her,” I said. “And if I know a secret of hers it will make her more tolerable.”
Todd stared at me, his eyes incredulous.
“What?” I asked, feeling self-conscious.
“You guys are so…strange.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “You guys?”
“Girls!” Todd exclaimed. “You guys are so strange. Like how you think!”
“Okay,” I said, discarding his remark. “So are you going to tell me?”
“Were you honest?” Todd asked. I sensed that the question was rhetorical, for contractual purposes only. I nodded. “I knew you were too,” Todd continued, scratching his dreads.
“So?” I was losing patience. At any second we could be summoned downstairs and the moment would be lost.
“So…” he began. “Adia is responsible for many deaths.”
“What?” But I had heard every word.
“Don’t make me say it again,” he protested.
“Okay,” I said quickly. I didn’t have time to hate myself for asking. I was too surprised. Adia was responsible for many deaths? The idea seemed impossible and yet I somehow knew that Todd was being honest.
“How many?” I managed.
Todd looked uncomfortable. “I’d rather not –”
“Of course!” I interrupted, feeling that I had been rude. I attempted to distract him. “Ask me something now.”
He took a deep breath. “Do you have a boyfriend?” I hesitated, not sure of how to respond. Did Ash’s supposedly incoming text count for anything? Todd nodded quickly, misinterpreting. “I thought you would.”
“No,” I said slowly. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Do you want one?” Todd asked. My brain reeled for an answer. “Like if the right guy comes along?”
“Yeah,” I said. “That answer.”
Todd was smiling. “Ask me another question,” he said. I searched and then I saw. A black tail of ink, even darker than the rest of his skin, crept upward from where his t-shirt yielded to his thick, cascading neck.
I pointed to the marking. “What’s that?”
Puzzled, he looked down before looking up to give me his most creamy smile yet. “That’s my secret.”
“Can I see it?”
Todd hesitated and then nodded. Suddenly, he yanked off his shirt in one sudden, upward pull. Todd’s muscle strapped arms had only been a teaser, a cupcake to the wedding concoction that now sugared my eyes. But shock was registering in my brain and distracting pleasure, for emblazoned on his chest in black ink, its beautifully rendered feathers reaching down to gather around pontoon abs was a…but how could it be?”
“It’s a, it’s a —” I stammered.
“Yep!” Todd said happily. “It’s a dreamcatcher! Do you like it?” I stared at him in disbelief. “Are you okay?” Todd asked, his smile attempting to be interceptive. It didn’t completely fail.
“Yes,” I breathed, feeling winded. “I just –”
“Todd? Annie?” Dad called. “Are you upstairs?” Standing quickly, Todd replaced his shirt. “Todd? Annie?”
“We’re coming!”
Todd descended the staircase joyfully. I descended it incredulously. They were all waiting in the cave. Dr. Boliers, who had certainly enjoyed his share of wine, stumbled around the bottom stair as he made for the door.
Lin Divion shook my hand. “Nice seeing you, Annie.”
“Come on, Todd,” Adia said. “I have an early morning.”
“You have to teach our daughter,” Dad added.
“That’s right,” Adia acknowledged, moving to sweep her hair back and accidentally upsetting the dreamcatcher necklace.
My heart stopped.
Beneath where the dreamcatcher necklace had been was a jet black, curling tattoo. Either it was an exact clone of the necklace over it or the necklace was an exact clone of the tattoo under it. In a rush of movement, Adia realized what had happened and quickly realigned the necklace. The damage, however, was done.
“Night, Annie,” Todd said. “Mind if I drop in sometime?”
“Yes,” I said distractedly. “I mean no, visit.”
“Cool,” he said. “See you later!” In a haze of stunned fascination I waited while a few more handshakes and farewells were exchanged and then the door closed and they were gone.
“You and Todd seemed to get along,” Dad said, locking the door. “He’s a fine young man and I bet he has his sister’s smarts. Anyway,” he continued, rounding on me. “Was I right? I said earlier that you’d thank me for arranging dinner with the Arrowhearts. Was it worth it?”
Remembering the promise I had made to myself, my eyes found his. “It was worth it, Dad, thanks.”
The strangest thing about that lie was that it wasn’t one.
3. The Dream
Sunlight fell through the curtains and into the room, its rays bouncing and joyous. The flamboyant sun was wasted on me, however. A smile was already lighting my face. This happiness was beyond any I had known. Its song sang further, its beam burned farther.
Dad was standing between me and Mom, blocking my view of the hospital bed. I listened to their hurried discussion. Mom’s voice was tinged with agonized nerves. I caught glimpses of words, but I didn’t know what a C-section meant.
“Dr. Boliers will be here in a heartbeat,” said the nurse, smiling to my parents. “It looks like you’re almost ready.”
“Thanks, Adele.” Dad managed a weak smile. Mom managed a gasp, and looking around I saw her clutch her large, protruding belly. “Breathe, honey,” Dad said, but the worry was plain on his face. “We’re almost there!”
“Almost there!” Mom’s voice was furious. “This began thirteen hours ago and you’re telling me we’re almost there? This is supposed to be easier the second time around!”
“They’re doing all they can,” Dad reassured. “They’re trying to help.”
“Then why don’t I feel helped!” Mom yelled. Her face was shining with sweat and her hair was in a record breaking tangle.
Despite Mom, I was feeling fantastic. The warm day, the endless ice cream from the cafeteria, and the fevered excitement were combining wonderfully. Happiness buzzed around inside me like a bee dropping honey.
Above all was a single name: Alexi.
Alexi, my baby brother to be.
My parents had announced the news nearly nine months ago. Since finding out, I had become a kite. Beforehand I had only flown them.
Dr. Boliers trundled in looking calm but determined. He offered my parents an encouraging smile. “Adele said you’re ready. Are you ready?” Boliers asked. Mom was breathing hard and issuing pained moans.
“Yes, we’re ready,” Dad said, looking strained. His hands were clasped with Mom’s. I could see his veins popping. “We’ve decided against a C-section.”
“Alright then,” Boliers said, pulling on elastic cloves. “Number two, here we come!” As Boliers spoke, Mom screamed in agony.
Dad turned. “Annie, it’s time to go!”
“Can’t I stay?” I begged. “I want to see Alexi born!” I recognized a rare opportunity. The clock in the room said that midday had passed but the clock was lying. It was about to be dawn.
“No!” Dad exclaimed. “Wait outside! I’ll come get you when he’s here.”
“Come with me, Annie.” Adele stood in the doorway, her hand outstretched. “You will have your little brother soon,” she promised. “Come, let’s give them space.” Resigned, I followed her. The door closed behind me. “Everything will be alright,” Adele said. “You don’t need to worry.”
“I’m not worried,” I sighed. “I just wanted to be there!”
Adele led me to a waiting alcove lined with chairs. “I need to help other patients,” she said. “Wait here until they call you back in.” She left quickly after directing me to a chair.
I felt cheated of a much anticipated experience. Gazing around the tidy alcove, I found distraction in the pattern on the floor. The carpet had squares, circles, and triangles…how inclusive. I wished my parents were as inclusive. Straining my ears, I tried to hear something from the nearby room. Stealing myself, I tiptoed back to the door. Putting my ear against it, I listened carefully.
“Breathe Sarah, breathe!” Dad’s voice was desperately charismatic.
Dr. Boliers was speaking. “You’re doing well but I need more. Push! Push!”
“PUSH!” Dad was loud, his timber ecstatic. “I can see his head, Sarah! I can see his head!”
A bolt of lightning hit me. Alexi was coming!
“PUSH! PUSH! PUSH!”
The magnitude of sound doubled, tripled, and died. My ears throbbed so much from the yelling that I thought I had gone deaf, but then the ringing stopped and the silence was real. Heart haywire, I knocked once upon the door.
The door opened. Dr. Boliers stared down at me. “The first ever caller on Alexi McGallagher,” he said. “Come on in!” My eyes went straight to the bed. They were there, all of them, three out of our family of four. Mom’s face was drenched in sweat, Dad’s soaked in tears.