Nobody's Dream (8 page)

C
assie knelt on
Abuela’s
folded green and black woven blanket that served as her meditation pallet in front of her altar in the far corner of her studio. Candlelight flickered, making the shadow of the potted bay tree dance against the wall and appear to grow before her eyes. The plant provided protection and helped invoke her psychic powers. A statue of her deity,
Mama Quilla
, also stood on the altar with arms outstretched and welcoming. While her alpaca had the Quechua spelling for moon, Cassie chose to use the Spanish spelling when referring to Goddess, perhaps because her spirituality was tied up in both Quechua and Catholic traditions, among others she learned about at uni.

She had strayed away from the Catholic traditions when she explored her own truth in college. She had begun to embrace a goddess deity over a male one even before she had been attacked. But the rape had only strengthened her faith in
Mama Quilla
. Praying to a male deity with so much power frightened her at that point in her life.

Even though her goddess had not spoken to her in years, she continued to try to connect during her meditation time. Usually, the exercise gave her moments of peace and quieted her mind.

Not this morning, though. Cassie’s body trembled from touching Lucas familiarly so often these past few days. The contact might not be considered intimate to anyone other than her, but touching any man went far beyond her comfort zone. Of course, not so long ago, their bodies had been pressed against each other as she tried to keep him warm.

She lit her white meditation candle to bring her her inner peace and comfort. Breathing in its pure light, she invited
Mama Quilla
into her sacred space, hoping She would remove this sense of…fear? That was the only word to describe what she felt. Her stomach had churned every minute since Lucas crashed into her sanctuary. Her heart beat erratically any time he drew near.

Similar feelings of fear around men had plagued her for five years, and yet it had evolved to be different somehow now.

Cassie closed her eyes and let her mind float to a place of beauty and peace, an Andean meadow where mountain flowers bobbed on the spring breeze, against a backdrop of steep, snow-covered peaks. Soon her body stopped shaking, allowing her to begin her meditation.

Confounding thoughts of Luke—
no, call him
Lucas—continued to keep her earthbound and unable to reach the deep meditative state she sought.

Lucas smiling.

Leave me
alone.

Lucas bare-chested.

Leave me alone!

Lucas lying on top of her.

Leave. Me. Alone!

She could not rid her mind of the intrusive images. Her body trembled uncontrollably. She sighed and leaned forward to pinch out the candle flame with her finger and thumb. Perhaps she should go to the shed to check on the animals and make sure they were okay. Were her babies aware that an unwanted male had invaded their once safe, peaceful sanctuary? Did they care? Life was so simple for them. They had each other for company and Cassie to see to their needs.

Lucas would sleep for hours most likely. His body remained weak from his accident—although, when her hand pressed against his chest, she had not detected any sign of such weakness. The man was solid sinew and muscle. He must be very active at something besides carpentry and art. She had no interest in finding out how he stayed in shape.

None whatsoever. In fact, she had no interest in the man at all. She just wanted him off her mountain!

When she entered the shed, Graciela came to her side immediately, distressed about something. “What is the matter, girl? Having a hard time sleeping with that swollen belly of yours?” The alpaca hummed, expressing her misery, and Cassie sympathized with the poor dear. This cria would be a first for both of them. So far, everything seemed to be going well with the pregnancy. According to Cassie’s sources, alpacas tended not to need a lot of help birthing their babies. Still, Cassie sensed this would not be an easy delivery—perhaps because neither of them had been through the experience before. And she had learned the hard way to trust her instincts.

Or was she projecting her own jitters about being a first-time
mamina
onto the creature? The four alpacas had only been here about six months, and she still had much to learn.

“What shall we do about him, Graciela?” The alpaca gave her a blank stare before humming again. Of course, she did not know the person Cassie mentioned. The alpacas had not yet met Lucas.

Cassie gave her a pat on the neck before setting to work filling the feed bins and heated water trough. Leaving the warm, dry shed, she fought to find her way back to the house using the rope lines strung between the buildings. The wind had whipped up and torrents of snow lashed at her face. The snowstorm had brewed slowly the first two days at blizzard strength, but now the winds had decreased somewhat. She wished they would blow away the snow blocking Lucas’s exit, but knew from experience, strong winds only meant even higher drifts to deal with, lengthening the amount of time he might be stuck up here.

When would she be rid of the man sleeping inside her cabin?

She entered the mudroom and removed her boots and wet poncho, hanging the latter on two hooks to dry. Her socks grew wet from the melting snow on the floor so she stripped those off, too, and started toward the fireplace to warm up.

An anguished shout from the bedroom stopped her dead in her tracks.

“Noooo!”

Not again
. Her heart pounded at the fear and horror in his voice. She could not stand to let him remain lost in the dark world of his nightmare, knowing that place quite well herself. She inched toward the bedroom door with dread. He had overpowered her before, triggering her flashback. Light from the living room shone on Lucas as he lay in her bed. His feet thrashed, apparently trying to kick off the blankets. Still, Cassie hesitated, afraid he might lash out at her again if she came too close.

But she remembered her training. If she could not fight off a man in Lucas’s weakened state, her self-defense training had been for nothing. That assurance did not make this situation any easier.

“Lucas, wake up! You are dreaming!”

His arm thrust outward, extending over the edge of the bed. But he remained asleep. She banged on the headboard, hoping to awaken him, but nothing.

Goddess, why me?

Climbing onto the bed, she straddled him, grabbing his hand as he swung it toward her face. She pressed it into the pillow above his head. “Lucas, you are only dreaming.”

“Oh, God. Take me, not them!” The gravelly sound of his voice broke her heart.

Perhaps he would answer to his nickname. “Luke, wake up. Now!”

He blinked his eyes open and squinted in the dim light spilling in from the living room. She had kept the light off so he could sleep. His body needed rest more than anything else, but he would not recover quickly enough if his sleep continued to be plagued with nightmares. Did he dream like this all the time? If so, how could he function on so little sleep? Her nightmares had lessened over the years, but when they came, they were just as fierce as if she were back in that cantina.

He furrowed his brows as he searched her face. Did he recognize her? She released his hands and sat up to break contact with him.

“Do you remember where you are?”

He nodded. “In your cabin, Cassie. There was another avalanche.”

“Well, only the one this year.”

He nodded. “Right. I was following you home to make sure you were safe.”

At least the delirium had not returned.

He reached up and tucked her hair behind her left ear before stroking her cheek as if uncertain she was real. “Last year, I dreamed of an angel. Got confused about who it was at first until you…”

Clearly, he was still confused. “What are you talking about?”
I am in nobody’s dreams, much less as an angel.
Maybe the delirium had returned after all.

“I dreamed you were…well, it’s a little complicated. First, Maggie said she was sending me an angel. In my sleep, I saw you in a meadow working on a painting of quaking aspens. It was autumn.” He reached up and ran a strand of her hair between the side of his index finger and his thumb, setting her stomach on edge. “You had long dark hair…” His knuckle brushed against her breast and robbed her of her next breath. “…and soft, olive skin.”

Dreaming about an angel, though? Had his wife reached out from the other side to deliver some kind of prophetic message from the Universe? As if Cassie could be any man’s angel. Then it dawned on her.

“Your wife must have been predicting that I would be the one to rescue you from your truck after the avalanche.” Yes, of course. That was it. She relaxed and pulled farther away so that her hair was no longer being touched, and he rested his hand on the mattress. She could see how he might have misinterpreted the dreamed message to mean she was his angel.

Lucas seemed to mull over her explanation, and the light left his eyes. He nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I didn’t put two and two together, but that makes more sense than…”

He trailed off, but they both knew what the alternative interpretation to that vision might be. She shuddered. Her spiritual obligation must end the moment she nursed him back to health and took him home.

Realizing she still straddled his waist, Cassie swung her leg off him and stood beside the bed as he sat up. She thanked the Goddess she had not been pressed against his hips because if he had become sexually excited, she would have hauled him out to the shed to sleep with the alpacas. He did not appear to be coming on to her—just momentarily dazed and confused.

“What were you dreaming when I came in here just now?”

He winced as the memory came back. “About my wife. How she…died.”

“You miss her very much, do you not?” The question popped out before she could stop it. She did not want to delve into his past.

Lucas looked down at the blanket covering him. “She’s been gone eight years. I don’t think about her every waking moment the way I used to.”

No, but she still invades your dreams.

Perhaps the avalanche churned up unresolved feelings he was unaware of harboring. Regrets? No, worse than that. “You blame yourself for not saving her.”

He scrutinized her a moment, and then his words came out in a hoarse whisper. “Some, I guess. Mostly, I’m pissed that I didn’t know more about the nature of these mountains and didn’t stop her from that fool mission to photograph one of her rare plants.”

Against her better judgment, Cassie sat at the foot of the bed, ensuring she was far enough away from him to escape if she needed a head start. Perhaps talking about his living nightmare might help him find some much-needed healing and peace. “Tell me about that day.”

Again, he stared long and hard at her. She doubted he would be forthcoming. Then, as if the floodgates had opened, he began to tell the story.

“It was spring, early May. She was on a break at UT. Should have been grading final papers, I guess, but she heard about this plant in a remote area of Mount Evans that only bloomed for a short time, so she insisted we take a long weekend and drive up here.”

He pulled his knees up and propped his wrists on them, letting his large, tanned hands dangle between them. Non-threatening.

“We hiked quite a ways from the parking lot before she spotted a clump of them on an outcropping of rock, tucked into a crevice.” He closed his eyes, lost in the memory. “She asked me to photograph it for her. I did a lot of nature photography then, mostly for her.”

The silence spread out between them, making her feel as though she might tumble into the same abyss that stored his memories.

Just let him tell his story, Cassie. Do not make yourself a part of it.

“I wasn’t paying attention to where she was—just wanted to take the best photo I could. All of a sudden, she screamed.”

He made a fist with his right hand, and she fought the urge to reach out and comfort him. Realizing that would only pull him out of the story, not to mention bring the two of them too close together, she remained still. He needed to relive it until he could release himself from the misplaced blame and guilt.

“God, sometimes that scream wakes me out of a dead sleep to this day.”

“I know.”

He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Is that what brought you in here? Did I scream out in my sleep again?”

She nodded. “I know what it feels like to be in the grip of nightmares.”
And flashbacks
. “I did not want you to suffer. These memories have too much power over us when we are asleep.”

Sometimes during the daytime, too.

“Thanks for understanding. I appreciate that. It’s been a long time since I’ve dreamt about that day. Now, every time I close my eyes…”

“The avalanche probably stirred up old memories.”

He nodded. “Probably.”

She waited for him to continue, but when he remained silent, she prompted him. “What happened next?”