Stolen Dreams (6 page)

The elevator doors slid open and Mary immediately found the
sign on the wall that indicated room locations. Turning right, she followed the
hall until she arrived at room 214. She went to the door and knocked. A moment
later the door was opened and an elderly man answered.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mary exclaimed. “I was looking for Alison
Grandee.”

The man’s eyes softened and he shook his head. “I’m so
sorry,” he said. “But Mrs. Grandee died several months ago.”

The ghost of Alison Grandee appeared in the room behind the
man.
 
She was the same woman whom Mary
had seen in her dream the night before.
 
Mary
had the immediate thought that in the light of day she looked familiar and
wondered if she had met her before. The woman listened politely as the man
explained to Mary about how the nursing home might be able to give Mary the
information about Alison’s final resting place.
 
Then Alison smiled at the man and walked through him into the hallway.
He shivered slightly and then shook his head. “I’m so sorry that I was the one
who had to tell you the news.”

“Thank you,” Mary replied quietly. “I’m so sorry to have
bothered you.”

The man nodded and closed the door.
 
Mary and Alison walked away from the room,
back towards the elevator.

“That was very nice of him,” Alison replied. “He was always
a lovely gentleman.”

“Did you know him when you were alive?” Mary asked.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “He was in a one room apartment and was
waiting for a two room apartment to come available. I suppose as soon as they
cleared me out he moved in.”

Alison paused and studied Mary for a moment. “You are the
young woman from my dream, aren’t you?” she asked.

Mary nodded. “Yes, I’ve been sharing your dream for months,”
Mary said. “I’d love to help you find your daughter.”

“It won’t be very easy,” she said. “It happened a long time
ago and I don’t know if they even kept records.”

“Did your husband or your sons know about your daughter?”
Mary asked.

Alison looked frightened. “Oh, good heavens, no,” she said.
“My husband assumed I was a sweet innocent when he married me.
 
I don’t think he would have looked twice at
me if he knew that I was a fallen woman.”

“A fallen woman?”
Mary asked.

“I got pregnant when I was a teenager,” she answered with a
slight shrug. “It was, I suppose, quite a common story. I thought he loved me
and we were going to get married. But, well, when he discovered I was
expecting, he left town.”

“He sounds like a jerk,” Mary replied.

Alison looked shocked for a moment and just stared at Mary. Then
her face lightened and she laughed. “Yes, I suppose he was,” she finally
replied.
 
And then, with more conviction
in her voice she repeated herself. “Yes. Yes he was.”

“So, what did you do?” Mary asked.

“I had to go to my parents and tell them everything,” she
said. “And they did what middle-class parents did at the time. They sent me
away to a religious school for unwed mothers.”

“How old were you?” Mary asked.

“Fifteen,” she replied sadly. “I was fifteen years old and
my parents sent me away.
 
I had my baby,
a beautiful little girl. But I wasn’t allowed to keep her.
 
They took her from me and gave her to another
family.”

Tears slipped down her translucent cheeks. “I remember
trying to escape and run after the family that took her,” she said. “But I had
no money and no transportation, so I lost her.”

“Escape?”
Mary asked.

“I was required to work for the school until my debt was
paid back,” she said. “The cost for room and board and my hospital stay. I worked
for them until I was nineteen and then I was finally free.”

“They took your baby and four years of your life?” Mary
asked, incredulous. “That can’t be legal.”

Alison smiled sadly. “In those days it was not only legal,
but quite common,” she said. “I begged them to let me know where they placed
her when I left, but they refused.
 
They
told me to forget about her and start my life over.
 
They expected me to forget about my child. I
can’t imagine any woman ever forgetting about her own child.”

Mary placed her hands protectively over her belly and shook
her head. “I can’t either,” she said. “And I understand your need to find
her.
 
Can you tell me about the place you
lived?”

A few minutes later, armed with more information about
Alison, Mary took the elevator back downstairs.
 
The place where she’d been sent was a large convent that was situated in
a secluded spot on one-hundred acres of wooded land in the middle of farmers’
fields just north of the Illinois border in Wisconsin.
 
The location was far enough away from any
town that escape was unlikely.
 

The baby, Alison had called her Aubrey Rose, would be sixty-two
years old now.
 
All Alison wanted was to
be able to see her daughter one more time before she moved on.
 
And all Mary wanted to do was fulfill her
request.

“So, how did it go?” Bradley asked Mary as they worked
together to make dinner that night. “Did you get to see Alison?”

“Yes, I did. She is a lovely woman,” Mary replied, leaning
back against the counter.

Bradley smiled as he pulled some cans from the cabinet above
Mary.

“What?” she asked, noticing the look on his
face.

“I just think it’s funny that you describe a ghost as a
lovely person,” he said, shaking his head. “Most people wouldn’t be so
open-minded.”

She shrugged. “Well, most people aren’t me.”

He put the cans on the counter behind her, wrapped his arms
around her and pulled her close.
 
“That’s
true,” he whispered before placing a kiss on her lips.
“Lucky
me.”

Sighing, she rested her head against his chest and snuggled
against him. “Thank you,” she said. “I feel the same way about you.”

“So, tell me about her,” he said, laying his head on hers.

“She had a baby when she was fifteen, and it was given up
for adoption without her approval,” she said, leaning back and meeting his
eyes. “I can’t imagine how devastated she must have felt.
 
I’ve never even met our baby, but I already
feel protective towards him.”

“She had no idea who adopted her?” he asked.

“No, she never was able to find out where the baby was
placed,” she replied, “and needs to see her daughter before she moves on.”

“I can understand that.
 
Finding your family can be quite a motivator,” he said, thinking back to
the time he searched for Jeannine and Clarissa. “So, what are you going to do?”

“Well, the convent she was staying in when she gave birth is
still open,” she replied. “It’s just above the state line, in Wisconsin. So, I
thought I’d take a trip up there and see if I can access their records.”

“That might be a little tricky,” he said. “Most adoption
records from that era were sealed, especially if they might shed an unfavorable
light on the institution.
 
I don’t know
how you’re going to be able to get access to them.”

“I’m not sure either,” Mary admitted slowly. “But I’m sure
there has to be a way.
 
She wouldn’t have
been sent to me if there wasn’t a way I could help her.”

“Well, if anyone can do it,” Bradley said with confidence, “it’s
you.”

She smiled up at him. “Well, thank you again,” she replied.
“After the last couple of days I’ve had, I can use a vote of confidence.”

“What happened?” he asked.

Before she could answer, the door burst open and Clarissa
hurried inside.
 
Her eyes were wide with
excitement and she was out of breath. “Hurry, you need to help him,” she
panted.

“Who?”
Bradley asked, hurrying across
the room to meet her,

She pointed toward the door. “Andy. Andy Brennan,” she said.
“He’s fighting Jack Wilson.”

“Why on earth would he do that?” Mary asked, slipping her
arm into her coat and hurrying towards the door.

“Jack said there were no such things as ghosts,” Clarissa
cried. “He said that you were a big faker, so Andy punched him.”

They rushed out of the house and down the stairs and saw a
group of children gathered on the corner excitedly shouting at what was going
on in the midst of them.

“They’re in there,” Clarissa shouted, grabbing Bradley’s
hand and pulling him forward. Bradley quickly jogged past Clarissa and entered
the throng, towering over the children involved in the melee.
 
Grabbing each boy by the shoulder, he easily
pulled them apart. “You do know it’s against the law to fight on a public
street, don’t you?” he asked sternly.

A frightened hush fell over the group and several children on
the outer edges of the crowd stepped back and hurried away.
 
Bradley eyed the two boys he still held in
his hands. “Well?” he asked.

Andy wiped his arm across his bloodied nose and then looked
up at Bradley. “He said Mary was a liar,” he said defiantly. “He said she was
crazy.”

Bradley looked down at Jack Wilson. “And what do you have to
say for yourself?” he asked.

“My mom says she’s fake and she’s just cheating people out
of their hard-earned money,” he spat unrepentantly.

Mary reached the crowd in time to hear Jack’s comment.
 
She stepped up next to Bradley and met Jack’s
eyes. “You can tell your mother that I don’t charge for the work I do,” she
said calmly. “And if she has any questions about the validity of my work, she
should call me and I would be very happy to explain what I do to her.”

Jack glared at her. “She won’t call you,” he growled and
then he looked up at Bradley. “And you can’t do anything to me. It’s freedom of
speech. I can say whatever I want to say. And I didn’t start the fight, he
did.”

Bradley looked over at Andy and the boy hung his head with a
sigh. “He’s right,” Andy admitted quietly. “I hit him first.”

Bradley released both of the boys. “Thank you for being
honest,” he said to Andy. “I want both of you to go home now. And I don’t want
to hear of any more fighting between you.”

Jack shrugged back defiantly. “Wait ‘til I tell my mom and
dad that you grabbed me,” he sneered. “They’ll probably sue you or something.”

Turning quickly so Mary and Bradley didn’t have time to
reply, Jack dashed down the street towards his house.

“Are you mad at me?” Andy asked, looking up at Mary and
Bradley with tear-filled eyes.

Bradley sighed and wrapped his arm around Andy’s shoulders.
“Well, buddy, we both know that punching someone is never a good thing to do,”
he replied.

Andy nodded slowly. “You’re right,” he admitted.

Then Bradley grinned down at Andy. “But if I had been you, I
would have found it hard not to punch him myself,” he added.

“Bradley!” Mary chastised. “Both of you know better than
that. Physical violence is not the answer.”

She knelt down in front of Andy, pulled tissue from her coat
pocket and dabbed at the blood below his nose.
 
Her eyes filled with tears and she
sniffled
them back. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt because of me,” she said softly, her
voice catching.

“
Awww
, Mary, don’t cry,” Andy
said. “I’m okay.
Really.
 
I get my nose bloodied at least once a week.
It’s no big deal.”

Mary sent him a watery smile and nodded. “Well, thank you
for being my hero and standing up for me,” she said, gently wiping the last of
the blood from his face.

Blushing with embarrassment, Andy nodded. “Sure, no big
deal.”

“Come on, Andy,” Bradley said, patting his back. “Why don’t
you let me walk you home and talk to your parents about what happened.”

Andy sighed deeply. “Yeah, I guess they need to know, and it
would be safer if there was a policeman there when they found out.”

Both Bradley and Mary chuckled. “I don’t think it’s going to
be that bad,” Bradley said.
 
Then, after
helping Mary to her feet, he placed his hand on Andy’s head.
 
Come on,” he said. “Let’s go face the music.”

Fifteen minutes later, as Mary was putting the casserole
dish in the oven, the front door opened and Bradley came inside. Mary closed
the oven door and peered over the kitchen counter. “So, how did it go?” she
asked, nervously wiping her hands on the dish towel.

“Fine,” Bradley said, slipping his coat off and hanging it
in the closet. “I could tell Katie and Clifford were more upset about what Jack
said than what Andy did.
 
But they didn’t
let Andy know and gave him the same guidance we did about punching someone not
being an answer to a disagreement.”

She walked into the front room and waited by the couch for
him. “So, he’s not going to be punished?” she asked.

He closed the door. “No,” he said with assurance as he
turned towards her. “He’ll be fine.”

She let out a long sigh of relief. “Well, that’s good,” she
said. “I was really worried about him.”

Shaking his head, he came over to stand next to her. “So, do
you want to tell me what this really is about?” he asked.

The long breath she had just released was inhaled. “Bradley,
I need to apologize,” she began. “I had no idea this story in the paper would
have these kinds of ramifications.
 
You
must be mortified.”

“Wait. What?” he asked.

Folding her arms across her chest, she turned away from him,
staring at the fireplace. “I never thought my words or my actions would reflect
badly on you or cause Clarissa problems at school,” she said, shaking her head.
“I should have thought this all through.
 
I am so sorry I acted rashly.”

Placing his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face
him. “Now you’re putting words in my mouth,” he said. “I don’t care what other people
think.
 
I’m proud of what you do.
 
I love how you help people.” He paused for a
moment. “Well, dead people.”

Ignoring his smile, she walked away from him and perched on
the arm of the couch.
“But what about Clarissa?”
Mary
argued. “This is going to affect her at school.”

“It will help teach her that some people can be
closed-minded and prejudiced no matter what evidence is placed before them,” he
countered. “It’s a lesson she is going to have to learn eventually, so why not
now when we can be here to help her through it?”

Still not convinced, Mary shook her head again. “People are
telling her that her stepmother is nuts,” she said.

“And other people are jumping to your defense because they
know who you really are,” he said firmly. “People are going to talk. You can’t
change that.
 
All you have control of is
how you are going to react to that conversation.”

“But it’s not just about me now,” she repeated. “It’s about
you and Clarissa.”

Walking over to her, he took her hands in his and pulled her
into his arms. “Okay, what would you like to do?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I don’t know yet,” she replied.

He nodded and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Well,
why don’t you think about it and let me know when you’ve considered things,” he
said. “Then we can discuss it again.”

She looked up at him, bewilderment in her eyes. “You’re
really not upset with me?”

“No, I’m not upset with you,” he said decisively. “But I’ll
support whatever decision you make.”

“Yeah, when the going gets tough,” Mike said, appearing next
to them, “the tough throw in the towel.”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” Mary said defensively. “I’m…”
She paused for a moment, thought about it and sighed. “I am. I’m throwing in
the towel because I’m tired and a little overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, and you’re human,” Mike said gently. “And you’re
pregnant. And people are not being as nice as they are supposed to be.”

She chuckled softly. “Actually, people are being downright
rude.”

“Yep, and you have to love them anyway,” Mike replied.
“That’s the tough part of doing what you do. It’s easy to like the nice people,
not so easy to love the idiots.”

“Can angels call people idiots?” Bradley asked.

Mike grinned. “Only in a loving way,” he replied. “Besides,
you need to remember that they don’t know any better.
 
They are living in their safe, secure, little
world and here you come, opening up possibilities that they have never
considered. That’s scary.
 
So, they push
back.”

“So what’s your advice for her?” Bradley asked.

“Hang in there,” Mike said, winking at Mary. “There’s a
reason for everything.
 
We just don’t
know what the reason for this is yet.”