In Your Dreams (22 page)

“Chasm-schmasm.
I’m off to save Isabelle. Wish me luck.”

“Good
luck.”

With
her words still hanging in the air between them, he spun into vaporous form and
aimed for Samantha’s desk at the Welcome Level in Reception.

“I
was told to tell you no.” Samantha’s tired voice reached him before he landed.
She sat at her desk, arms folded over her chest, a frown marring her very
kissable pink lips.

“Which
puts us at an impasse,” he said with a slick smile. “Because I don’t intend to
take no for an answer.”

“This
time, you’ll have to,” a male baritone said from behind him. “Maybe it’ll carry
more weight if I say it. No.”

Sean
stiffened, but refused to face the wizened gnome. “Come on, Sherman. That’s not
very polite.”

“Oh?
All right. Try this one on. Sorry. No.”

Resentment
combined with desperation, and Sean whirled to stare down the skinny little
man. “I’m not leaving without access to Isabelle. I don’t care how you get it.
You can put me in front of Verity, or you can perform whatever magic the Board
allows you. Give me time with Isabelle so I can save her from making a big
mistake.”

Sherman
glanced around, his eyes squirrely. “Let’s not do this here,” he replied. “Come
into my office.”

“Fine.”
He followed Sherman past the never-ending queue of newcomers to the carved
marble archway that indicated the barrier between the general area and the more
sacrosanct inner circle. As they approached the entrance to Sherman’s office,
the double doors flipped open on a wisp of air. The cavernous room maintained a
theme of pure heaven with pristine white walls and swaths of white silk draped
to provide a cloudlike atmosphere. Overhead, a perfect replica of a sunny
summer’s day allowed newcomers to feel closer to their ideal vision of the
Afterlife as a kingdom in the sky. Gold leather club chairs sat catty-corner to
the enormous white marble desk. What a nod to magnificence for such a wee man.

As
the doors snicked closed again, Sherman indicated the club chairs. “Have a
seat.” In direct contrast to his directive, he stood by the door, shifting from
one foot to the other, wavering.

Under
normal circumstances, Sean would have pressed his advantage, perching himself
on the edge of the desk—a visual slap to Sherman’s delusions of grandeur. For
Isabelle’s sake, though, he opted for one of the twin chairs and donned his
best behavior. “Give me a chance, one chance, to talk to her. Please. I’ll do
whatever it takes to save her life, Sherman.”

“It
seems to me she’s already opted to save someone else’s life instead,” Sherman
replied.

“A
life that will end
hers
,” he fired back. “And send her here.”

The
Elders’ liaison strode forward and settled in the cushy chair behind his desk.
“Either way, she’ll wind up here. All that remains to be seen is the amount of
time she’ll reside in this realm. Regardless of when she chooses to arrive, she
won’t move forward right away.”

“Why
not? If she doesn’t kill herself, she has no reason to spend time here.”

Sherman
said nothing, but his eyes, solemn and sorrowful, told another tale.

Aside
from suicide, what other great sin could Isabelle commit to wind up punished by
serving the Afterlife and its Board?

Only
one idea came to mind.

“Don’t
tell me the Board feels the need to concern itself with Earth’s morality
issues. What happened to the concept of free will? Or is that a myth like
heaven, hell, and all the rest?”

“Oh,
free will exists,” Sherman said. “It’s one of mankind’s greatest gifts. Do you
think Isabelle isn’t making this choice, based on free will? Do you know of
someone who has pressured her to make the decision to carry her child to term?
Or is pressuring her to end the pregnancy to save her life?”

Embarrassment
crept into his psyche, and he dipped his head. “No. Not really.”

“In
life, Sean, we don’t always get to choose between chocolate and vanilla.
Sometimes, neither choice presented to us is pleasant. Those are the decisions
that affirm a person’s character. Isabelle has opted to give life to the child
you two created.”

The
child you two created
.
Sean inhaled a shuddering breath. “It’s true then. I’m the father of Isabelle’s
baby?” At Sherman’s curt nod, he exhaled—just as shakily. “How is that
possible?”

Sherman’s
lips quirked in an enigmatic smile. “The Board does not only deal in death, my
friend.”
          An icy finger of
suspicion zipped up his spine. “I’m guessing the Board wouldn’t be thrilled at
Isabelle’s refusal of such a gift.”

“And
I’m
guessing you won’t believe me, but this isn’t some kind of test the
Board cooked up to punish Isabelle. There is no wrong answer for her. Her
decision is solely hers to make. And by choosing to keep the baby, she will
give a lifetime of happiness to her friends. Had she decided to discontinue the
pregnancy, she would have remained on her own life path without condemnation or
judgment.
That
is the true meaning of free will.”

“But
the Board always knew she’d keep the baby, right?”

He
clasped his hands on his desk’s sleek marble surface. “What has not yet
occurred is always subject to change. But, based on what the Board knew of her
personality and her past, this…” He paused, gazed up at the ceiling’s trompe
l’oeil sky, as if seeking enlightenment from above. Or, at least, a term he
might use that wouldn’t send Sean flying into a rage. “…this
ending
…was
anticipated.”

Ending.
Isabelle’s ending. “How soon?” He couldn’t finish the thought, couldn’t bear to
utter the phrase aloud any more than Sherman could. Not that it mattered. They
both knew they were discussing Isabelle’s death.

“Before
the child’s second birthday,” he replied with a mournful sigh.

“Can’t
her fate be changed somehow? Give her more time with her baby?”

Sherman
shook his head, and his mane of white hair flowed like bridal ribbons. “Our
lifetimes are finite, and while we, ourselves, can cut our lines shorter—as you
well know—no one on Earth has ever extended his or her given time.”

“What
if someone else volunteered to give up his time to extend her life?”

His
lips twisted in a moue, and he furrowed his brow. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“Yeah,
you do. If the Board wants a sacrifice, I’ll volunteer. Tell the Board to let
Isabelle live long past when her child is grown, and I’ll do her time here on
top of my own.”

Sherman’s
eyes widened. “Why?” The question came out as a harsh whisper. “Why would you
make such an offer?”

A
million reasons. But one in particular. “The world is a better place because
Isabelle’s in it.”

“I’ll
convey your...” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “...proposal...to
Verity.”

“If
it’s all the same to you, I’d rather do it myself.”

Sherman
gave a curt nod. “I’ll let her know you wish to speak with her.”

The
woman, dressed in a tangerine tube dress that enhanced every supple curve and
made her ebony skin glow, reappeared in her dream. Hammered gold jewelry
adorned her throat and wrists, lending her a regal air. This time, they sat
together on a covered porch swing in the middle of a wildflower-filled meadow
on a beautiful spring afternoon. The air smelled of sweet honeysuckle, birds
chirped from leafy trees on the perimeter, and the sun bathed her face with
golden warmth. Cottony clouds dotted the pristine azure sky.

Isabelle
couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed such a lovely day. She, herself,
wore a high-waisted white sundress splashed with daisies and rosebuds,
espadrilles on her feet, and a yellow leather watch as her lone accessory.
Despite the simplicity of her outfit compared to her companion’s magnificence,
she felt pretty as the scenery. Relaxed. Perfect.

“Hello
again, Isabelle.” The woman pushed off from the dirt ground with a jeweled
sandaled foot, propelling the swing into a slow to-and-fro.

“Xavia
with an X, right? Sean’s friend?”

“That’s
right.”

She
tensed, wondering why this woman had returned. Where was Sean? “Is he okay? How
much trouble is he in? They haven’t hurt him, have they?”

“Of
course not.” Xavia’s smile revealed dazzling white teeth and reassurance. “He’s
fine. His main restriction is that he can no longer be in contact with you. And
that’s making him crazy, I admit. His only concern is you, what you’re going
through right now.”

Her
heart flippety-flopped in her chest. He hadn’t abandoned her after all. If she
believed Xavia—and she did—Sean’s total absence from her life wasn’t his
choice, but some kind of punishment inflicted by the powerful forces in his
realm. Which, really, was so unfair. She’d called him to her that day, screamed
for him. If anyone deserved punishment for what happened, she did. “They banned
him from contacting me because of what happened during the gamma knife
procedure, didn’t they?”

“Yes.”
Xavia’s ruby-ringed index finger bobbed near Isabelle’s nose. “I know what
you’re thinking, and it wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes,
it was.” The heat of shame bathed her cheeks and neck. “I even told him I
didn’t care if he got in trouble for being with me during the procedure. I’m
such a selfish jerk.”

Xavia
patted her thigh. “No, you’re not. You were afraid and you called out for
someone you trusted to comfort you. He went because he cared about you. He
still cares about you. That’s why he sent me to you now.”

“Does
he know...about the baby?”

“Yes.
And that only adds to his worries. He’s not happy with your decision to carry
this baby to term.”

“He
sent you to talk me out of it, didn’t he?” At Xavia’s nod, she clucked her
tongue. “Tell him not to worry. I’m completely at peace with my choice.”

“Yeah,
I kinda figured that. I even told him so. But Sean’s not that easy to convince.
He’s so sure he knows what’s right for everyone else, no matter how screwed up
his own life—or death—is.” She shrugged. “He’s a man. Need I say more?”

“No.”
Isabelle laughed. “God, no.” She liked this Xavia. Liked her sarcastic wit. But
her take-no-prisoners attitude confused Isabelle. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm...?”
Xavia’s expression was placid, as if she, too, enjoyed this pastoral break.

Now,
Isabelle was about to pee on her begonias. “You’re a suicide, right? Like
Sean?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Why?
I mean, you don’t seem the type...” She let the statement trail off,
understanding that some things were definitely better left unsaid.

“My
only child was killed in an accidental shooting. After he died, I couldn’t...”
A keening sound escaped her lips, a strangled coo, like a cote of mourning
doves. “I couldn’t go on.”

Acting
on a new mother’s instinct, Isabelle cradled her burgeoning belly. “I’m sorry.”
Her gaze remained pinned to her hands around her own child. No matter how new
her pregnancy, a primal protective nature had already kicked in, and Isabelle
knew if
anyone
threatened her child in any way, they’d better be
prepared for a total beatdown. “I didn’t mean to bring up something so painful
for you.”

“You
didn’t. Not really. It’s not like that information ever leaves me, you know.
The ache of his loss stays with me during every tick of time through eternity.
Like a hole I can’t fill.”

Isabelle
shivered. God, she couldn’t imagine how painful it would be to continue living
after losing a child—literally, a piece of herself. “How do you go on?”

“I
don’t have a choice.”

Silence
brewed between them for several minutes, giving Isabelle time and quiet to absorb
Xavia’s words. She was the bravest woman Isabelle had ever met. Tough, but with
a soft underbelly. The way a good mom should be.

At
last, Xavia spoke again. “The thing is, though, I recently found out all the
details of that night I’d never known. You see, my son was killed by a police
detective who mistook him for an armed gunman. That detective was Sean.”

She
sat up, rigid with shock. “Oh. Oh, God.” Her stomach pitched on a rolling sea
of nausea. “Oh my God, you must
hate
him.”

“I
did. But I’ve forgiven him.”

“You
have?”

Xavia
nodded. “I admit it wasn’t the easiest thing I’ve ever done. But for all our
sakes—mine, Sean’s, and my son’s—I had to forgive him. And he atoned in a very
special way, so it’s all good.”

“Belle?”
Justin’s voice yanked her off the swing and obliterated the beautiful
landscape. “Belle, sweetie, wake up. The doctor’s here to see you.”

She
woke the minute he spoke, but refused to leave the last vestiges of sleep
behind. “A doctor making house calls?” she grumbled, rolling over to a supine
position. The ever-present I.V. line snapped her skin, bringing her to complete
wakeful status. “What year is this? 1955?”

“I
called him,” Justin replied. “I’m worried about you.”

Opening
one eye, she peered at her friend and the fuzzy outline of Dr. Regalbuto
hovering behind him. “Hello, boys. Is that a stethoscope in your pocket, or are
you just happy to see me?”

“Good
morning, Isabelle,” the neurosurgeon replied. “How are you feeling?”

“Like
I want to sleep a bit longer.” Get back to that meadow with Xavia. Find out
what Sean did to atone for killing Xavia’s son. It had to be humungous. After
all, what price could possibly be placed on a child’s life? Especially since
money, from what Sean said, wasn’t much use where they were.

She
bit back a giggle. This other realm of Sean’s had better storylines than a
nighttime television drama.
Tune in for the next episode…

Uninvited,
the doctor sat in the chair at her bedside. “Tell me about Sean, if you would.”

Aha.
Now, his impromptu appearance made sense. Justin must have panicked at last
night’s confession, worried the brain tumor was affecting her sanity. She sat
up and stared at both men, clear-eyed and solemn. No way they were going to
make her think she’d gone crazy with a capital K. “What do you want to know?”

“Who
is he?”

“A
really good friend.” Who still cared and hadn’t abandoned her. “And the father
of my child, of course.”

“And
where is he now?”

“Dead.”
She chose her words with precise care. “He died a while ago.”

“When
exactly?”

She
paused long enough to give Justin the stink-eye before replying, “Not sure
exactly.
A while ago
.”

“Can
you be more specific? Was it this month? This year?”

“Nope.”
Folding her arms over her chest, she maintained a solid wall of stubbornness,
impenetrable. “I honestly don’t remember.”

“Do
you remember today’s date?”

“Of
course.” She gave him the date, along with the correct answers to his questions
about the name of the current president, the state they lived in, and then
one-upped him by providing the names of the state’s governor and senators.
“Anything else? Wanna discuss the latest bill to make it to the floor of the
House of Representatives?” She hoped not, because she had no clue. The only
reason she knew the senators was from a boring fundraiser she’d attended with
Carlo. But the good doctor didn’t know that.

“No,”
Dr. Regalbuto said. “Tell me more about Sean.”

“No.”

He
quirked a brow. “Why not?”

“Because
he’s mine,” she retorted with an air of resentment. “And I don’t want to share
him.” She slid into the bed again, eased into the soft mattress, and closed her
eyes, willing sleep to return. Maybe if she hurried, she could catch Xavia
before she flitted off to…wherever she and Sean came from. “Thanks for stopping
by, Doc. Nice talking to you. Justin, don’t call him again. I may be sick, but
I’m not
that
sick.”

~~~~

Sean
strode out of Sherman’s office and stopped short. Instead of the marble archways
and confusing buzz of glazed-eyed newcomers in the Welcome Level, he found
himself in the relative quiet of his mother’s kitchen with its yellowed
wallpaper and misaligned cabinets.

Verity
sat in her usual chair, pouring steaming amber tea into the familiar cups. “You
wanted to see me?”

Wow.
He didn’t know this place could still surprise him. Then again, maybe his offer
to do Isabelle’s time had surprised the Elders so much they’d initiated this
instant meeting to gauge if he was joking. Or suffered from some otherworldly
fever. Hell, he’d stunned himself, and the words came out of
his
mouth.

“Thanks
for making time for me.” Maintaining the good behavior cloak he’d donned with
Sherman, he took the seat across from her and folded his hands on the faded
Formica. No argument or disparaging remarks fell from his lips. Oh, they
lingered behind his tongue, but he kept them in check. For Isabelle’s sake.

Nodding
approval at his genteel manner, Verity slid a cup toward him. “Sherman conveyed
your offer to me.”

He
squirmed in his chair, antsy to say the right thing, to get the Elders to
consider his proposal. “And...?”

“And
even if such a thing were possible, why would you do it?” She lifted the cup to
her lips, sipped. “She’s hardly worthy of such a noble sacrifice.”

“I
disagree.”

“She
has so many flaws.”

“Don’t
we all?”

“Yes,
but hers are too numerous for the Board to consider providing any kind of
intervention on her behalf.”

“Yeah,
right. Isabelle Fichetti: female Hitler.” When Verity didn’t even crack a smile,
he thumped a fist on the table. “Oh, come on. You don’t really believe she’s
some kind of monster, do you? Isabelle’s had a rough life, and that’s colored
her perceptions somewhat. But she’s a good person with a generous heart.”

The
Elder’s crystal eyes darkened. “She’s selfish.”

“She’s
lonely,” he countered.

“She’s
disagreeable.”

“She’s
misunderstood.”

“She’s
confrontational and suspicious.”

“She’s
been betrayed by those who should have loved her most,” he retorted. “Anyone
who’d been abused the way she was wouldn’t exactly welcome strangers into her
inner circle with open arms. That doesn’t mean she can’t learn to love and be
loved.”

Verity
smiled over the rim of her cup. “I know. That’s why she’s carrying this child.”

He
stiffened in his chair. “In other words, Sherman was wrong. This is a test,
isn’t it?”

“No.
You misunderstand me. By choosing to have this child, knowing she won’t be able
to fight the tumor that will take her life shortly after the child’s birth, and
by willingly turning the infant’s care over to her friends to create a family
that might not otherwise exist, she has shown her great capacity for love. The
Elders are like parents, Sean. We know our charges well: their flaws, as well
as their gifts. Your defense of Isabelle’s character, while admirable, is
unnecessary.”

Hope
sparked inside him, but confusion demanded answers first. “If you know all this
about her, if she’s not being punished for choosing the baby’s life over her
own, why is she on Xavia’s roster of offenders?”

“We
believe she needs to be monitored. I fear I must warn you.” Pausing, she sipped
her tea. “This pregnancy won’t be an easy one, and her illness will only get
worse as time goes by. Often, the greatest rewards only come to us after we’ve
survived tremendous struggle. There is still a chance Isabelle might surrender
to her demons. I hope not, but we feel it’s best to take precautions.”

“So,
if she passes this...
struggle
...” Who did Verity think she was kidding?
She could call it whatever she wanted, but Sean knew this was Isabelle’s big
test. “...will she be allowed to live?”