Stolen Dreams (5 page)

Mary snuggled against Bradley and allowed herself to relax,
concentrating on breathing slowly and evenly.
 
Their bedroom was dimly lit and she could feel sleep beginning to
overtake her.
 
She started thinking about
the nightmare, picturing herself there and reminding herself that she was in
charge, she was in control. This was the fourth night she had tried lucid
dreaming.
 
After taking Gracie’s advice
and not overthinking, she seemed to be able to gain a little more control. Every
night it seemed that she was getting closer to a break-through, but she never
seemed to quite get full control of her dream as Gracie had advised her.

“I need to do this,” she whispered.

Bradley leaned over and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Why
don’t you try to relax this time,” he suggested. “Just take a walk through your
dream like it’s a movie. You’ve been there before, and now you know you don’t
have anything to be afraid of.”

She took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right. No
pressure,” she said. “Okay, just a walk.”

She closed her eyes, breathed in the lavender on her pillow
and let her mind drift.
 
“Take a walk,”
she whispered. “Just take a walk.”

The room was dark, and
Mary was back in the middle of her nightmare. She moved forward tentatively,
trying to find an exit door or a light. She didn’t feel afraid. “I’m in charge.
I’m in control,” she repeated to herself as she investigated her surroundings.

 
A low sound, like the thrum of a bass note,
was pulsing in the background over some hidden speaker system. She remembered
that sound and realized it made her anxious.
 
“I don’t like that sound,” she said. “Let’s change the channel to soft
rock.”

Suddenly the thrumming
stopped and soft music floated throughout the house. “Cool,” she said with a
smile.

Continuing forward,
she heard the sound she’d been waiting for, soft and whispered in the distance,
the sound of a child’s cry.

Dismissing caution,
she hurried forward towards the source of the sound. Running down dark corridors
that turned and twisted, she became even more frustrated. “I really need the
lights to be turned on,” she said aloud.
 
Suddenly, the dark halls were filled with light.

She looked
around.
 
The house was more like a
dormitory with a number of small doors opening up to the long hallway.
 
There were religious plaques and pictures on
the walls.
 
But at the end of the
hallway, the window was encased with metal bars.

She found herself at
the staircase and jogged down the stairs, listening for the cry. Finally, she
arrived at the door at the far end of a narrow hall. Light flooded out from
beneath the door and around the sides into the dark hallway.

She grasped the
doorknob, but the door itself seemed to be shrinking. “Stop shrinking,” she
commanded the door, and it obeyed. “Unlock the door.”

The door opened up and
Mary stepped through.
 
In the corner of
the room was a young woman dressed in a black dress with a white apron over
it.
 
Her eyes were filled with tears and
she turned to Mary with a look of desperation.

“They’re taking my
baby,” she cried. “They’re taking my baby and they didn’t even let me say
goodbye.”

Mary looked ahead and
saw women dressed in long, black dresses carrying a swaddle of blankets and
hurrying from the room. “Stop,” she called out. “Stop this instant.”

But the women didn’t
stop; they carried the infant away into the shadows.

“They took my baby,
and I never saw her again,” the woman sobbed.

“What’s your name?”
Mary asked, finally understanding what was happening.

“Alison,” the woman replied.
“Alison Grandee.”

“And when did you die,
Alison?” Mary asked.

The woman paused for a
moment, considering Mary’s question.
 
Then suddenly, she began to change.
 
The young woman aged rapidly before Mary’s eyes, and in a matter of
moments, an elderly woman with white hair looked at Mary. “January,” she
replied.
“At the age of seventy-seven.
 
I never found her.
 
I never got to find out if she was okay.
 
I never got to tell her I loved her and I
never forgot about her.”

“I’ll find her,
Alison,” Mary promised. “And I’ll let her know.”

Mary woke up in Bradley’s arms.
 
He leaned over and placed a kiss on her lips.
“Welcome back. How did it go?” he asked.

“I found the baby’s mother,” Mary said. “Her name was Alison
Grandee and she died at the age of seventy-seven in January of this year.
 
Someone took her baby away from her when she
was a young woman and she never saw her again.
 
She needs to find her.”

He pulled her close and held her. “So, she found the woman
with a golden heart to help her,” he said softly. “Why do you think she just
didn’t appear to you?
 
Why do you think
she ended up in your dreams?”

Mary snuggled against him and yawned. “I don’t know,” she
answered sleepily. “Maybe this was the only way she could reach me.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Well, you took control of
your dream in less than twenty minutes,” he said, reaching over her and turning
off the light on the nightstand. “So, now I suggest you finally get a good
night’s sleep and stop running down long hallways all night long.”

She chuckled softly and yawned again. “That sounds like a
wonderful idea,” she said. “Good night, Bradley.”

“Good night, Mary.”

It only took Mary a matter of minutes to find the online
copy of Alison Robinson Grandee’s obituary.
 
She had actually lived in Freeport until she died at one of the assisted
living facilities close to town.
 
Her
obituary mentioned her husband, who had passed away prior to her death, and her
two sons, but there was no mention of a daughter.
 
Did her sons know about their
stepsister?
 
Would Alison want them to
know, or had it been her secret? A secret she carried to her grave?

“Well, what’s the use of living in small town America if you
can’t take advantage of its primary characteristic?” she muttered to herself as
she pushed herself out of the chair and walked to the door. “Everyone knows
everyone else’s business.”

Leaving her office, she walked the few steps to Wagner’s
Office Supplies and entered the front door.
 
The clerk behind the desk, one of Stanley’s daughters-in-law, smiled at
Mary. “Good morning,” she said in a cheery voice. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, about the same,” Mary replied.
“Starving
all the time.”

“I remember that feeling,” the woman replied. “Stanley’s in
the back, in the office, and there are doughnuts back there.
Just
in case you’re interested.”

Mary stopped and shook her head. “Have you ever met a
pregnant woman who wasn’t at least interested in doughnuts?” she asked.

Laughing, the woman shook her head. “No, I can’t say I
have,” she agreed.

Mary walked to the back of the large store and knocked on
the old, wooden door that had the word “Office” imprinted in gold letters on
the opaque glass window.
 

“Come in,” Stanley called from the other side of the door.

Mary pushed the door open and found Stanley sitting at a
small, round table, newspaper in one hand and a doughnut in the other, perusing
the local news.

“Well, someone’s hard at work,” Mary commented as she walked
over to the table to join him.

He pushed the box of doughnuts in her direction. “Nope,
someone’s hardly working,” he replied with a smile. “That’s the benefit of
being the old, should-have-already-retired guy on the job.”

Mary selected a filled Long John with Bavarian crème
filling. “You can’t retire,” she replied, sitting down next to him. “This place
would fall apart without your knowledge of stock and customer specifications.
You’re like a walking database.”

Stanley chuckled and took a bite of his doughnut. “Yep, and
that’s what I keep telling ‘em,” he said. “Which keeps me supplied with
doughnuts, newspapers and…,” he lowered the newspaper and grinned at her, “a
wonderful place to escape a honey-do list.”

Mary bit into her doughnut and smiled at Stanley. “Well, as
long as you give me doughnuts as hush pastry, I’ll never tell Rosie,” she
vowed.

Stanley put the newspaper down on the table, folded his arms
and met Mary’s eyes. “So, girlie, you want to tell me why you
ain’t
next door solving the problems of the world?” he
asked.

“I need your help with one of those problems,” she
explained. “Did you know Alison Grandee?”

Stanley tapped his chin with one finger and looked off to
the corner of the room while he thought about it. “Grandee, Grandee, Grandee,”
he muttered. “Didn’t she just die, not too long back?”

Mary nodded. “Yes, she died in January,” she replied.

“Nice woman,” he mused.
“A couple of kids.
Boys.
And her husband was in business, banking I
think.”

“Wow, you are a database,” Mary said. “Did you ever hear
about her background?
 
Before she was
married and moved here?”

Stanley sat back in this chair and slowly took a bite of his
doughnut, his eyes focused on the ceiling for a moment.
“Seems
to me she was
kinda
quiet about her background.
 
Don’t think I ever heard her talk about where
she grew up.”

“Could she have been married before Mr. Grandee?” she asked.

Stanley stared at her for a moment. “What you got up your
craw this morning?” he asked.

Mary grinned. “I just want to find out what’s public
knowledge about her and what she kept secret,” Mary replied, pushing against
the table in order to get out of her chair. “So, now that I know, I think I’ll
go directly to the source.”

Stanley stood up and hurried to her side just as she got
into a standing position. “You sure you should be following up on a lead all by
your lonesome?” he asked. “It’s not like you’d be able to run away too
quickly.”

She looked down at her protruding belly and then looked up
at Stanley. “Are you volunteering to come along with me?” she asked. “You don’t
even know where I’m going.”

“Sure am,” he said decisively. “’Sides, I know you’re going
to that assisted living center where Alison died.” He shook his finger at her.
“I’ve known you long enough, girlie, to know how you operate.”

She leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you,
Stanley,” she said. “I would love to have you as company.”

The drive to the assisted living facility outside of town
took about ten minutes, but Mary wished it had taken longer.
 
The trees in the area were blazing in their
individual, autumn glory, bright red and orange maples stood alongside golden
oaks and bright yellow birch trees; it was breathtaking in its beauty.
 
“I would love to find a place where it was
fall all year long,” she said to Stanley. “I’d move there in an instant.”

“That’s what you think,” Stanley replied. “But you’d miss
the other seasons soon enough.
  
I’ve
seen how much you love snowball fights and sledding.”

Mary glanced down at her belly. “Yeah, well I might have to
forgo that this year,” she replied.

He chuckled. “But you just wait until he’s old enough to
play outside,” Stanley said. “A whole new world of fun opens up when you start
to see things through a child’s eyes.”

Smiling softly, Mary nodded. “I’m already seeing that with
Clarissa,” she agreed. “And I can’t wait to experience it with Mikey.”

They pulled into the parking lot and found a parking spot
near the front door. Stanley put his hand on Mary’s arm to stop her from
exiting. “Now remember, if you sense that there’s trouble here, we leave right
away and you bring Bradley back with you,” Stanley insisted. “There
ain’t
no way I’m letting you endanger yourself or Mikey.
Got it?”

Mary nodded and smiled at Stanley. “Got it,” she replied.
“I’ll be on my best behavior.”

They got out of the car and started walking towards the
entrance when Mary noticed that Stanley seemed to be struggling as he walked.
She stopped and turned to him. “Stanley, what’s wrong?” she asked concern heavy
in her voice.

He looked up at her, a twinkle in his eye, and winked.
“Just doing my part, girlie.
I’m supposed to be your feeble,
old uncle.”

She breathed a quick sigh of relief and shook her head.
“Next time warn me,” she whispered, wrapping her arm around his. “But, I have
to admit, you had me convinced.”

He chuckled softly as they continued into the building.
 
The sliding glass doors opened into a small
vestibule with another set of locked doors and an intercom.
 
Mary pressed the button and waited for a
response.

“Good morning,”
came
the cheery
response. “How may I help you?”

“Hi, I’m here with my uncle and we’d like to look around
your facility,” Mary replied.

A soft buzzing sound indicating the release of the lock was
the reply and Mary pushed the door open and led Stanley through into the
lobby.
 
They were immediately greeted by
the person on the other end of the voice, a perky young woman with a bright
smile. “Hello, I’m Candy,” she said, including both of them in her smile. “I’m
so glad you chose to visit us today.”

“It was her idea,” Stanley grumbled. “I don’t need
no
assisted care center. I’m doing just fine living all on
my own.”

Mary patted Stanley’s arm patiently and sighed deeply. “It
took quite a lot of convincing to get him to come here today,” she explained.
“He doesn’t want to be treated like an invalid.”

“Well, of course not,” Candy said. “And this place is
certainly not like that at all.
 
We have
all kinds of activities. We have wonderful food and we even have transportation
for shopping, trips to the barber shop and other special events.
 
Our guests are not invalids; they have just
reached a point in their lives when they want someone else to take care of the
bothersome things.
 
They would rather
spend their time enjoying life.”

Stanley studied the young woman for a moment and then nodded
slowly. “Well, then, I just might be interested in seeing what you have to
say,” he replied. “
Iffen
you mean it.”

“Oh, yes, sir,” she replied earnestly. “We love all of our
residents, and our job is to make sure we consider your every need.”

Turning towards Mary, Stanley huffed. “Seems like someone
knows how to treat me,” he grumbled.

Mary had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. “Uncle
Stanley, you know we all love you,” she said.

“Humph,” he retorted. “Let’s go on the tour.”

The young woman guided them into a little room that was
decorated to seem more like a living room than an office. “Just give me a
moment and I’ll let our director know you are here,” she said. “I know he’ll
want to give you the tour himself.”

She left the room, closing the door behind her. Stanley sat
down on the couch and motioned for Mary to follow.
 
She sat next to him and was going to
congratulate him on his acting when he shook his head and stopped her. “These
places often have cameras and recording devices so they can determine the
relationships between the new resident and their families before they allow
them in,” he whispered.

“How did you—” she began.

“Read it in one of those magazines at the barber shop,” he
replied, a twinkle in his eye.

“I’ve got to start going there,” she whispered back,
laughter in her voice. “Okay, I’ll follow your lead.”

Stanley sat back and looked around the room. “I don’t know
about this place,” he complained loudly. “It seems too frilly, like some fussy
woman decorated it.
 
I
ain’t
gonna
be living in some
room that’s pink and frilly.”

“I’m sure they have different colors in their rooms, Uncle
Stanley,” Mary insisted. “If not, we can redecorate for you.”

“I’m not spending my money redecorating someone else’s
room,” he said. “If I don’t like what I see, we can go somewhere else.”

“Of course we can, Uncle Stanley,” Mary replied. “There are
many other choices.”

A moment later the door opened and a middle-aged man walked
in.
 
He was tall and slim, dressed in a
striped blue and pink dress shirt, pink tie and khaki-colored dress slacks and
had conservatively-styled blonde hair and a slight tan.

“Hello,” he
said,
his smile warm
and inviting. “My name is Trey Habersham and I’m the director.
 
I understand you’d like a tour of the
facilities.”

Stanley stood up and walked over to Trey. “Well, I don’t
necessarily want a tour, but it looks like I’ve got to take one,” he grumbled.
“I’m Stanley.”

Trey smiled at Stanley and shook his hand. “Well, I hope we
can make it a positive experience for you,” he said. “Why don’t we first look
at one of the model bedrooms?
 
We have
rooms that we feel appeal specifically to men without the fussy frills that
women like.”

Stanley glanced quickly over his shoulder and sent Mary a
quick wink.
 
“Well, you brought me here. Are
you coming along?” he grumbled.

Biting back a smile, she nodded. “If you help me off this
couch, I will,” she replied.

“Allow me,” Trey said, quickly moving around Stanley, offering
Mary his hand and pulling her up from the couch. “I am so happy to meet you.”

“Thank you,” Mary said as she stood up straight. “I
appreciate the lift.”

“Is Stanley your grandfather?” Trey asked.

Stanley scowled and Mary grinned. “No, he’s my uncle,” she
said. “And we’ve been trying to find a place that would suit him and help him
in his old age.”

“Well, I am sure that we will be able to fulfill all of his
needs,” Trey replied with a smile. “How did you hear about us?”

They moved from the small office into the hallway and Trey
led them back towards the main lobby where the various wings of the building
originated.

“I had a friend who stayed with you,” Stanley replied. “The
only reason I would even think about touring this place is because Alison
Grandee spoke so highly of it.”

Trey turned around quickly and faced Stanley. “Mrs.
Grandee,” he repeated. “Yes, she was a lovely woman and it was a great loss
when she passed on.
 
Were you close to
her?”

Stanley nodded. “Yes, we were quite close,” he replied. “My
wife and she were nearly inseparable. When she died it was like having my wife
die all over again.”

Stanley had done an amazing job of laying the groundwork,
Mary thought, and now all she had to do was close the deal. “Which one of the
rooms did Alison used to live in?” she asked.

Stanley paused and looked around, a look of confusion and
consternation on his face. He looked up one of the wings and down another.
“These dadgum hallways all look the same to me,” he complained.

“She lived down this hallway on the east wing,” Trey
interjected. “She was on the second floor in room 214.”

Stanley breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Yes,” he said.
“Now I remember. Thank you.”

“Now the room I’d like to show you is through here, in our
west wing,” he said.

They turned towards that wing when Mary grabbed her belly
and gasped.
 
Both men went white and
turned to her. “Are you okay?” Trey gulped.

“
You having
the baby?” Stanley
asked.

Mary slowly moved to a small, upholstered bench next to a
wall in the hallway and lowered herself onto it. “No,” she breathed slowly.
“No, I’m fine, just a little pre-labor contraction.”

“A contraction?”
Trey squeaked.

Mary shook her head. “Not a real contraction,” she
explained, taking short breaths.
“Just a practice one.
 
But I’m going to have to sit here for a few
minutes and catch my breath.
 
Why don’t
you both go on with the tour and I’ll wait for you here.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Stanley asked. “We can just go
home if you’d like. We’ve got lots of other homes lined up to visit.”

Mary could see that Trey was torn between leaving her alone
and losing the potential sale if Stanley didn’t take the tour.

“Well, it actually might be better for her to rest for a few
minutes while we walk around,” he suggested. “Why don’t we continue, and if she
has any problems, she can have my assistant contact me via my radio.”

“That would be fine,” Mary said.

“Are you sure?” Stanley asked, sending Mary another sly
wink.

“Perfect, really,” Mary insisted.

“Okay then,” Stanley agreed, turning toward Trey. “I guess
I’m ready to hear your sales pitch.”

Mary watched them walk down the hall and out of sight before
she got up and hurried over to the elevator.
 
The door slid open and she pressed the button for the second floor.