***
That dream that I’d had the night before that left me feeling uneasy was back. It was a jumble of images, things I couldn’t grab even if I’d wanted to. And the truth was, I really didn’t want to. There was something that frightened me beyond words. I couldn’t begin to describe it.
It began at a diner in downtown Santa Monica that I frequented. I was sitting on the patio, as I often did, and someone joined me. I couldn’t see this person’s face, but I had a sudden sense that this person meant me harm. And then it shifted. I was inside a car and I needed to get out for reasons I didn’t know, but I couldn’t find a way out. The windows wouldn’t break and the doors wouldn’t open.
The dream shifted again. I was in the bank, laughing at something a customer had said. But then this overwhelming sense of dread washed over me and I began to scream with a terror that I could feel clear down to my bones.
“Kate! Wake up, Kate!”
I heard his voice, but I couldn’t make my eyes open. The panic was just overwhelming, making me feel as though I was drowning. I’d never had such a nightmare before. I had bad dreams, dreams about Joshua, but never anything like this.
“Kate!”
And then I was just conscious. I sat up, gasping for air. Donovan was behind me, his lips next to my ear.
“You’re okay, baby.”
I turned and threw my arms around him, burying my face against his shoulder. Feeling his arms around me dispelled some of the dread and the panic, but not all of it. It seemed to settle around my heart with big, long, cold fingers.
“You’re okay,” Donovan just kept whispering over and over again until I slowly began to believe him.
Chapter 22
Donovan
“I’m the one who’s supposed to have the bad dreams,” I said, setting a cup of steaming coffee in front of Kate.
“Must be the crazy bomber who’s after me.”
“Maybe.”
I sat in a chair across from her, afraid if I was too close to her I would be too tempted to touch her. She looked up, a little smile telling me she understood.
“Tell me what you remember about that night.”
She shook her head. “I told you already.”
“No. You left something out.”
“Donovan—”
“You forget, I’m the one with the stellar lying ability. Not you.”
That small smile widened. “I remember you had the entire senior class convinced that you were related to Brad Pitt.”
I chuckled. “Yeah. Best three weeks of my life.”
She studied my face, then her eyes slowly fell to her cup of coffee.
“Tell me, Katie.”
She moved her hands restlessly for a moment. Then she sighed.
“I went back to the front door of the bank. I convinced Joe to come out and check the parking lot for me.” She shook her head. “If I’d just gone inside and called the police—”
“It’s not your fault, Kate.”
“Isn’t it? He wanted to stay inside. He wanted to call the cops. And now he’s dead and I’m—”
“On the run.”
She ran her hands over the outside of the coffee cup as if she was trying to warm them. And then she pushed back from the table, slamming her hand on the tabletop as she stood.
“Why can’t I remember? I must have seen his face! I must know who it is. But I can’t wrap my head around it…I just can’t—”
“It’s okay.”
I went to her and enveloped her in a bear hug. We stood like that for a long time. Then she pulled away and marched out of the room.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to be alone for a little while.”
I stood there and watched her disappear into the master suite, her spine straight, her shoulders square, but her head down.
I wished I knew what to do to take this away from her. But what could I do?
***
She went for a lot of walks in the woods behind the house for the first couple of days. I watched from the back deck, confident in the fact that this property was surrounded by several miles of electric fence so she was safe. Physically, anyway. But she was trying so hard to remember what happened that night that it was beginning to drive her a little crazy. And she wouldn’t talk to me about it, which was driving me a little crazy.
I grilled a few steaks on the barbecue while she walked. A bottle of wine and a nice salad to go along. I thought that maybe a nice meal might help her relax.
“Should we be drinking?” she asked when she joined me.
“Can’t imagine why not.”
She nodded, lifting the glass to her lips and taking the world’s smallest sip. But then her eyes widened and she took a much deeper swallow.
“That’s good.”
“Ash has many talents. I guess his dad taught him about wines when he was in his teens.”
“Kind of young, isn’t it?”
“Apparently the super wealthy live under a different set of rules than the rest of us mortals.”