Chapter 13

GREG GUIDED JILL INTO RUTH’S house with a protective arm around her waist and closed the kitchen door behind them. An alarming air of frailty hovered around her, evident in her bowed head and slumped shoulders. She moved like a ninety-year-old. In all the months since the accident, he’d never seen her like this. The realization frightened him. Something was terribly wrong, that much was obvious.

They crossed the main floor and ascended the stairs to Jill’s apartment. When he would have taken her to the bedroom to tuck her in, she stopped him.

“Do you mind if we talk for a minute before you leave?” She didn’t raise her head high enough to meet his eye, but nodded toward the couch.

“Of course.”

He led her there, settled her on one end, and then slid onto the cushion next to her. Still, she didn’t look at his face, but stared at her hands. With her right hand, she twisted the diamond around her left ring finger in an unconscious gesture that sparked a flicker of discomfort in him. Was she going to pull the ring off and return it? A trace of lingering irritation at the way she’d taken over his meeting evaporated with the thought.

“Greg, I’m sorry about tonight. I know how important this meeting was to you, and I ruined it.”

“I wouldn’t say you ruined it.” He forced a quick laugh. “You certainly gave them something to talk about, though.”

She acknowledged the understatement with an upward twitch of her lips, but kept her gaze fixed on her fidgeting hands. “I know I should have talked to you first, let you know what I was going to do. But I fell asleep, and by the time I woke up the meeting was already underway. And I have to warn them, Greg. I have to.”

She did look up then, and held his gaze. Her eyes, though red-rimmed, were clear. Sincere. And full of a determination he hadn’t seen in over a year.

He leaned back and laid an arm across the top cushion behind her. “Tell me about this dream.”

For a moment, he thought she wouldn’t answer. But then her chest inflated with a deep breath, and she started speaking.

“The details aren’t clear. I know there’s a fire, but I’m not sure how it starts. I can smell the smoke, and then everything gets really cold. And there are people.” Her eyes closed. “People hurt. Screaming and bleeding and … dead.” When she opened her eyes, they held an intensity that darkened the brown almost to black. “And then I know I have to warn them, as many as possible. They have to get out of town on December 6.”

“Is it an accident of some sort?”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, I think so.”

Now it was his turn to look down. That this dream was related to the subway crash last year seemed obvious. “Like, maybe, a … subway accident?”

With force she propelled herself off the couch and across the room to stand in front of the window. “Do you think I haven’t thought of that? It’s not the same, Greg. For one thing, the Cove doesn’t have a subway.”

“I know, but —”

She stopped him with a raised hand. “No. This dream is not about the accident. I’m sure of that. It’s something else, something totally different. And I had to warn people. I had to.” Her eyes begged him to understand, to believe her.

He wanted to. She seemed so convinced, so certain. But to believe her claim that through a dream she’d been given special knowledge of a disaster that was going to happen in the sleepy little community of Seaside Cove was, well, unbelievable. The more likely explanation was that Jill was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder or something similar. That would be natural, given the trauma she’d experienced last year. PTSD took awhile to show up sometimes, didn’t it?

Her hands dropped to hang at her sides. “You don’t believe me.”

“I want to. Really. But it just sounds …” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t have to.

“Crazy.” Her shoulders slumped. “I know. I’ve probably gone off my rocker.”

“Now, don’t talk that way.” He crossed to her side and put a hand on each of her shoulders. “You’re just tired and stressed out with wedding plans and the Christmas season and everything.” He led her back to the couch.

“That’s what Doreen said,” she admitted. “She thinks the dream is stress-induced.”

She’d talked to her therapist about this dream? Good.

“What did she suggest you do about it?”

“She told me to get rid of my stress, whatever it takes.” A shadowy smile curved her lips, the first of the evening. “That’s what I was doing tonight. I thought if I warned people, like the dream was urging me to do, then it would go away. Leave me alone.” Her head tilted back and she looked fully into his face. “I really am sorry I railroaded your meeting. Have I completely destroyed your campaign?”

Greg wasn’t sure how he felt about that right now. He’d been pretty angry with Jill at the time, until the crowd surrounded her and pounded her with questions. Then his protective instincts had kicked in. Still, it would take him awhile to process the impact of tonight, and figure out how to recover. He did know, though, how he felt about Jill. He loved her. Whatever she was going through, they’d deal with it together.

“Well, your timing could have been better.” He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. “But I’ll regroup. We’ll figure it out tomorrow, after everyone’s had a good night’s sleep.”

She snuggled into his side. “I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to that.”

He leaned his cheek against the top of her head. Yeah. Well, at least one of them might get some sleep tonight.

For the first time in days, Jill wasn’t afraid to go to sleep. Of course, now that she wanted it, sleep eluded her like a stray pup running from the dog catcher.

She’d started to feel drowsy on the sofa, snuggled up close to Greg, her head on his chest, ear pressed against his shirt so tightly she felt the vibration of his lungs when he started to sing a soft lullaby in the melodious voice she loved. One day he would sing their babies to sleep with that song. Tonight, though, there were no babies to lull, only Jill. And for some reason, now that she desperately wanted to sleep, her mind was as alert as if she’d chugged caffeine all day. After a few minutes, she kissed him good night and retired to the bedroom to snuggle beneath the soft, thick quilt. That only woke her up even more.

It didn’t help that Greg refused to leave until Nana returned home, as though he feared the minute he left her alone she’d form a noose out of her bed linens and do herself in. His concern was touching, but after a few minutes became slightly irritating. She could hear his steady pacing right outside her bedroom. Every so often the sound of his footsteps would pause just outside the door. She pictured him resting his ear against the wood, listening. The image set her teeth against each other. He was taking this protective thing a bit too far. She wasn’t suicidal, if that’s what he was concerned about.

He’s just worried about me.

She sat up and punched her flattened pillow with a fist. Yeah, well, he should be. If she didn’t get some sleep soon, she would do something crazy.

Laughter snorted through her nose. Like anything could be crazier than standing up in a public meeting and announcing that the town had to be evacuated because of a dream. She threw herself backward on the mattress and shoved the pillow over her face with both hands. If Greg heard her laughing, he’d call for a straitjacket for sure.

A familiar noise reached her. Nana’s heels on the staircase. No doubt the sewing circle ladies had lingered after the meeting to rehash all the juicy details. Greg’s footsteps receded toward the kitchen, and she heard the mumble of low voices as he and Nana conferred. More footsteps on the stairs, this time Greg’s heavy tread descending. The relief shift had arrived, and he was going home.

Jill rose up in bed, switched on the lamp on her nightstand, and arranged her pillows behind her. When the door cracked open and Nana peeked in, she was sitting comfortably with her hands folded on top of the thick quilt.

“Greg said you were sleeping.”

Jill shook her head. “Who can sleep with all that worrying and pacing going on right outside the door?”

Nana opened the door wider and stepped into the room. “You can hardly blame him.”

A sigh escaped Jill’s lips. “I know. Instead of worried, he should be furious with me.”

She scooched sideways and patted the mattress beside her. Nana hesitated only a second before accepting her invitation. She lowered herself to the bed, kicked off her pumps, and twisted around until her legs were parallel to Jill’s. Jill removed one of her pillows and plumped it behind Nana, who settled back into it. The sweet scent of her perfume seeped into the air, bringing with it a wave of comfort. The smell of childhood, of nighttime prayers, tight hugs and lipstick-kiss prints on her cheek.

“So. Tell me about this dream.”

“There’s not much to tell, really.” Jill described the disjointed images and associated feelings, and tried to convey the sense of urgency that increased with every recurrence of the dream. “I had to do something. I couldn’t ignore the warning anymore.”

“You could have talked to me about it.”

“You’re right. I should have.” Jill plucked at an imaginary thread on the quilt. “I didn’t really plan to do that tonight. It just happened.”

Nana’s eyes narrowed. “You mean you couldn’t help yourself?” Jill didn’t answer at first. Could she have stopped herself from standing up in front of the town spouting doom like some deranged fanatic? Yes, of course she could have. It hadn’t been an irresistible compulsion, like she was possessed or anything. It had been a conscious — albeit desperate — decision.

“I wanted to stop the dream from coming back.” Her words were slow. “I figured one way to do that would be to get it out of my system. But there was another reason.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth and held it there.

“And that was?” Nana prompted.

She twisted sideways in the bed to look her grandmother full-on. “What if it’s real? If some disaster really does happen in Seaside Cove next week and I didn’t warn people, I’d never be able to live with myself.”

Nana searched Jill’s face. After a moment, she nodded. “You did the right thing.”

“I did?”

She nodded. “Given your position, I’d have done the same thing.” A grin twisted her lips. “Of course, I’m a fossilized old Fruit Loop myself, so that’s probably not a comforting thought.”

Laughter bubbled up from deep inside Jill. “If you’re a Fruit Loop, I guess I’m a Honey Nut Cheerio, huh?”

“We are related, after all.” The grin melted away, replaced by concern. “Are you better now that you’ve delivered your warning?” A note of worry crept into her tone. Worry, or maybe skepticism?

“I think so.” Jill closed her eyes and took an inventory of her feelings. The anxious urgency that had become her nearly constant companion the past few days was gone. In its place was a hot, sticky embarrassment when she remembered the shock on Greg’s face tonight, the scornful expressions of her fellow Cove residents. Mostly, though, she felt the soft and insistent nudge of slumber pressing her down to her mattress. Finally. “Right now I’m too tired to know what I’m feeling. All I want to do is sleep for a million years.”

“I’ll leave you alone then. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Nana rose from the mattress. When Jill slid down beneath the quilt, she grasped the edges and pulled the covers up beneath Jill’s chin, then tucked the sides firmly around the outline of her body like she used to years ago. With cool fingers she brushed the hair off of Jill’s forehead and planted a soft kiss there.

Jill searched the face that hovered over hers. “You don’t believe my dream is true, do you, Nana?”

Tenderness softened her features. “I don’t know what I believe. I’ll have to pray about that, just as I’m sure you will. But I know I love you.”

She reached for the light switch, and darkness descended on the room. With a satisfied sigh, Jill nestled farther beneath the covers and, for the first time in days, welcomed sleep’s embrace.