Dreaming in Color

by Cameron Dane

  Right then, the first glimpse of sunrise crested against the window and broke through the glass, filling Colin with an awesome sense of beauty and complete loss.

  He moved to the window and braced his hand on the wall. Pure white light from the rising sun flickered in between the palms and leafy foliage of the surrounding landscape, blinding in its brightness. Colin stayed where he was and watched until day finally beat out the night, marveling that some people got to live in this paradise every single day.

  People like Marek.

  Colin suddenly slumped against the wall as clarity hit him. “Oh my God. That's what I lost.”

  Marek.

  I didn't dream about him last night. The house either.

  “Oh shit.” Renewed worry filled Colin to the brim, making his stomach turn. He ripped open his suitcase and grabbed a change of clothes, praying all the while he wasn't too late.

  * * * * *

  Colin sped up the sandy path, leaped up the front steps, and threw open the front door without bothering to knock, not surprised to find it unlocked. “Marek! Marek!” Colin raced through the house at the speed of light, checking the front rooms, kitchen, and bedroom, and did not find Marek anywhere. A breezy chill wafted through the windows the man apparently never closed, raising goose bumps on Colin's arms and legs and clenching his belly with a deeper cold.

  Running through the house to the kitchen and out the back door, Colin shouted at the top of his lungs. “Marek! Where are you?” Marek's tarp-covered boat still bobbed in the calm water out front, so Colin knew he hadn't left the island.

  Just as Colin opened his mouth to yell again, Marek emerged from the back side of the greenhouse and stormed toward him. “What in the hell is the matter with you?” His voice snapped with irritation. “You're gonna fucking wake up my neighbors.”

  Oh, thank God he's okay. Swamped with relief, Colin launched himself at Marek and threw his arms around the man's neck, nearly sobbing when Marek's solid, steady heartbeat pounded against his chest. Marek stood stock-still, but he emanated body heat unlike anything Colin had ever experienced. Colin couldn't stop himself from clutching Marek tighter and absorbing further proof that he was still alive.

  “You weren't there,” Colin mumbled against Marek's temple. “When I realized what it was, it scared me to death. But you're here.” He nuzzled his cheek over Marek's beard and ran his hands down the other man's back, feeling more of that wonderful heat. “You're okay.”

  “I'm fine.” Huskiness laced Marek's voice. He turned his head down, away from Colin's touch, and uttered a soft curse. Pushing his hands in between them, Marek circled Colin's elbows and gently pushed him away. “You can let go of me now.”

  Mortified to his core—fuck, I threw myself at him—Colin backed up a dozen steps and gave Marek plenty of space. “Shit; I'm sorry.” Scratching his fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, Colin scrambled for recovery. “I didn't know you had neighbors.” From the first moment Colin recognized Marek's house as the one in his dreams, his desire for answers had so consumed him that he never even noticed any other residences along the island's sandy shoreline. “I apologize for yelling.”

  “There are a few other homes here, Baxter. I don't own the whole damn island myself.”

  “I didn't know.”

  Marek spit out another expletive, but this time he did not turn away. “Forget about it. They're not close enough to worry about. Probably isn't even anybody living in them right now.” Planting his bare feet into the soft grass, Marek crossed his arms against his chest. “What the hell are you doing here again? What do you want with me?” He leaned in a little bit, and his mouth compressed to a thin line. It seemed he tried to soften his voice as he said, “Why were you so scared just now?”

  “I was—” Colin sealed his lips shut. Fuck. Here he stood in front of a man who, in Colin's mind anyway, had fucked him hundreds of times. Colin's gut trusted this person, and it pushed him to spill everything and hope for the best. His logical brain, however, which always ran the show in Colin's real life, reared itself and waved a huge sign of caution in front of his face, pulling him to a more familiar, stabilizing place of inner control.

  Marek's hands curled and flexed at his sides, and he abruptly pushed past Colin, heading around the side of the house. “Or don't tell me.” Colin barely heard the man's utterance as he walked away. “Suit yourself.”

  Colin chased after Marek and caught up to him walking toward the beach. When he got within touching distance, he grabbed Marek's wrist and spun him around. “Yesterday you didn't want to know anything about my presence, and today you're acting offended that I didn't jump to answer your questions. Why do you all of a sudden care?”

  Marek looked down at where Colin held his arm and then looked right into his eyes. Shit. Colin whipped his hand away, feeling a burn sear his palm.

  “Sorry.” He apologized, again. “I don't usually…handle people the way I have with you today.”

  Going back to that military stance, Marek's face did not alter in reaction to Colin's comment. “You wanted to say something yesterday, and today I'm asking you what it was. Tell me.” His gaze shifted to Colin's boat for a second. “Or leave.”

  Now or never, Colin. How much do you really believe this man is supposed to be your future?

  “You're going to think I'm crazy.” Colin squinted against the sun hanging high in the cloudless blue sky, but shaded his eyes with his hand rather than concealing himself behind sunglasses. “But I've been dreaming about your house. I've also been dreaming about a man.” His heart beat at a dizzying rate, but with sheer will, Colin did not break from the hold of Marek's stare. “That man is you.”

  Jesus Christ. No fucking way was this guy for real. Marek could not deal with unbalanced people right now. He barely held his own sanity in check every day. “You're right. I do think you're nuts.” So much for memories of the even-keeled teen Marek recalled from Henderson. Maybe the beating changed him. Marek shut his eyes and clamped his jaw against the hammering of unspoken guilt. “Don't come back.” Dismissing Colin with a scratchy voice, Marek strode back up the beach.

  “Wait a goddamned minute!” Colin's voiced cracked across the humid air, whipping Marek to a stop.

  Stiffening from top to bottom, Marek held in place, instinctively responding to the sharpness in Colin's tone, but he could not turn around.

  “Sorry.” Colin slid in front of Marek again, delivering a sucker punch with his masculine beauty. “It was either shout or grab you again.” A tight smile pulled at the man's wide lips. “You didn't seem to respond well to the second option before.”

  Marek started walking again, and Colin skipped backward at a slightly higher speed, trying to keep up.

  “I know I sound crazy, but I swear to you I am not. I feel a connection to your home that I cannot yet explain. Somehow, that also involves you. I'm not unbalanced. You can ask anyone who knows me; I'm the most sane, levelheaded person they know.”

  Studying Colin, Marek tried to look past the immediate sexual attraction and search for subterfuge. There's no way he's here without a motive. Marek just didn't know what it was yet. “If you're not crazy,” he said, choosing his words very deliberately, “then you're operating some kind of angle on me. Either way, you won't like me when I find you out.”

  “I don't know if I like you right now.” Colin's green eyes sparked with passion and lit a fuse in Marek's blood.

  Marek chuckled in spite of himself. “All right. That smackdown buys you a few minutes. Start talking.”

  “Okay, so maybe the easiest answer to the questions you asked is why I was so frantically looking for you just now,” Colin said. “And the answer is this: last night, for the first time in two years, I didn't dream about this house, or you. I thought that meant something had happened—that you'd done something to yourself—and I didn't have the dream because you were gone.”

  Two years? Exactly when Marek had purchased the monstrosity. No fucking wa
y. The timeline had to be a coincidence. Colin's earlier fear suddenly pulled Marek up straight, and he grabbed the front of his shirt. “Wait a minute. Why would you think I'd done something to myself?”

  Almost at eye level, Marek couldn't escape the hint of pity that softened Colin's eyes. “In the dreams, particularly the first ones, you're clearly suffering.” Colin searched Marek's face thoroughly, and Marek released his hand from the man's shirt, feeling stripped and flayed bare with one brief, intense stare. “I don't know why,” Colin went on, “but your voice is in my head asking for help.”

  Son of a bitch. This could not be happening. Payton… A familiar weight pressed on Marek's chest at the loss. Could… No, this is all too crazy and has to be a coincidence.

  Schooling his features, Marek said, “I don't need any help, so you can go on home with a clear conscience.”

  “I can't do that,” Colin replied. “Even if I wanted to. I have a wedding to attend in a few days. That's what I'm doing in Fiji. I'm here for another week.”

  The beginnings of a powerful headache started drumming in Marek's skull. He ordered his legs to walk away, but a twisted piece of his psyche kept his feet planted in the sand. He hadn't cared about anything enough to even develop curiosity in two and a half years. This man doled out nuggets of information—probably working Marek as some kind of con or even trying to trap him into a confession—yet like a tiny-brained squirrel, Marek picked up every bit of nut left on the trail and followed.

  Where are you leading me, Colin Baxter?

  “So you just found my house? By accident?” Marek didn't bother to hide the skepticism in his voice. “Just like that?” He snapped his fingers.

  Colin nodded. “I know; it sounds like more insanity. It's too much of a coincidence, though. Something guided me to this place.” Marek noticed Colin's Adam's apple roll visibly as he swallowed. Red cut across the man's cheeks, but he didn't break eye contact. “Marek, I think you did.”

  Adrenaline and denial mixed forces and froze Marek's blood. “No way.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I've never had a single fucking dream about you.” Marek went right for the gut-cutting truth.

  “Oh.” Colin slumped, looking like a respected scientist had just told him the earth was not round. He ran his hands through his hair, mussing the thick brown locks. “I've miscalculated something important then, and I'm going to have to think about it some more.” Red burned Colin's entire face, but puzzlement quickly took it over, reminding Marek of the kid he used to watch in high school. “I felt certain you must have had them too.”

  Biting down a need to apologize or explain, Marek implemented a familiar facade of indifference. “I think you should get back to your friends. Good-bye.” He gave Colin his back and walked away.

  He took two steps before Colin called out, “I guess you're not gay then, either.”

  Marek closed his eyes against the rush of pain, but he kept moving on instinct, pretending he hadn't heard.

  “One more thing,” Colin said, his voice strong once again. “Why did you remove the red door?”

  Already up one porch step, Marek thanked God his hand on the railing supported the falter in his legs. How in the fuck could this man know about the red door I had torn down?

  “Well?”

  Growling, Marek uttered, “None of your fucking business.”

  As that slip of control occurred, Marek could practically feel the grin of triumph on Colin's face. He refused to turn around and see if he was right.

  Colin added, “I'm going to come back.”

  Marek waved without turning around. “I figured you would.”

  Leaning against the door, safely inside his house, suspicion lingered in Marek's thoughts as he listened to Colin speed away.

  For the first time since Payton's death, though, Marek looked forward to breathing.

  * * * * *

  On Fiji's main island, Colin stepped up to the woman behind the counter at the library. “Hi.” He smiled. “First, do you speak English?”

  The librarian smiled in greeting and dipped her head. “Of course.”

  “Excellent.”

  Oh, I know it's wrong, but I can't wait to see Marek's face when we chat next.

  “Sir?”

  “Sorry.” Colin put his full attention on the woman who may hold some of the answers to his dreams. “I'm wondering if you can assist me, or direct me, in going about researching a particular house on one of the smaller islands in the chain off the east coast of Vanua Levu.”

  Chapter Five

  Colin stepped out onto the bungalow deck the next morning to the cheering of everyone sitting at the outdoor table finishing breakfast.

  “Hey, hey, there he is,” Sylvia said, raising her glass of orange juice in his direction. “I thought we had one more roommate in the house, but I hadn't seen him in so long I was beginning to wonder if we'd left him behind in Austin.”

  Smiling sheepishly, Colin pulled out the one empty chair at the table and sat down between Jordan and Tom. “Sorry, guys. I got caught up in something yesterday and lost track of time.” After spending a few hours at the library and getting the start of some good information about the history of Marek's home, Colin had tracked down the realtor who handled the sale of the house to try to get a better picture, or just some insight, into what, aside from Marek, might have drawn him there. Talking to the realtor had taken up a good chunk of time, and Colin wasn't quite comfortable driving the speedboat at night to make another trip out to Marek's island, so he hadn't returned yesterday.

  He had wanted some quiet to think and figure out how in the hell to make the man a believer before seeing Marek again. Did he tell Marek everything right away, including the deep-seated emotional connection he felt to the man in his dreams? Or did he keep the conversation geared more toward the house and try to explain the driving need for answers about the bond he experienced to the structure itself?

  Colin wouldn't know for sure until he saw Marek again and spent some real time with him.

  Anticipation fluttered nerves in his stomach, and excitement got his heart racing. I can't wait any longer.

  Getting right back up from his seat, Colin grabbed a small bottle of orange juice and a couple pieces of fruit. Urgency put his feet in motion in the direction of the dock, but a sea of expectant faces stared up at him, stalling him before taking three steps. “Look.” Shutting up as quickly as he had opened his mouth, Colin's mind sped with a truth he knew the group wouldn't understand. Fuck, I don't know what is going on myself, how can I expect them to? These people were his best friends, but only Jordan—and so probably Tag too—knew about his dreams. Swallowing past the niggle of guilt, he said, “I feel like a jackass deserting you all again, but I really have to get back to what I was doing yesterday. I can't talk about it right now. I just have to do it.”

  “Is he cute?” Sylvia asked.

  Colin furrowed his brow at the smirk gracing Sylvia's mahogany face. “What?”

  “The 'something'“—Sylvia put her fingers up in quotes—“you're doing. Is he cute? And don't tell me it's not a man. You have your shoulders pushed back and some sort of secret something special showing on your face. Unless you've switched teams, it's a man.”

  That obvious already? Shit. That meant Marek could certainly sense the attraction in Colin too.

  Sylvia tapped her long fingernails against the table. “We're waiting.”

  “All right, fine,” Colin conceded. “Yes, it has to do with a man. But not necessarily what you're thinking.” Definitely not what they were imagining. Yet. Maybe one day though. Colin was now 99 percent certain Marek was gay. He would give just about anything to sink into a deep kiss with the man and confirm it. His very being ached to be close to Marek again, to touch him, to be near him physically, and see what would happen.

  “Oh yeah,” Alison said, slapping the table and pulling Colin back to the group. “It's a man all right. Look at our Colin. He'
s all hot and bothered.”

  “Whatever I am, don't a single one of you”—Colin set his focus on Sylvia, Alison, and Jordan one at a time, drilling them with the evil eye—“dare turn me into an investigation. This is personal, and I have to figure it out myself.”

  Jordan jabbed him in the shoulder. “I don't have to like it, and you can ditch my little excursions all you want.” She glared up at him. “But if you don't show up at my wedding, I'm gonna kick your ass.”

  “I wouldn't miss you tying the knot for anything.” Colin leaned down and pressed a kiss to Jordan's halo of red hair. “And don't worry, I'll even be here for the rehearsal and dinner tonight.”

  Squinting, Jordan scrutinized Colin for an uncomfortably long beat. “I'll leave you to your”—she waved her hand around in the air—“whatever, without bothering you. For now.”

  Exchanging a look with Tag, Colin got a little nod of backup. Giving the man a small smile of thanks, Colin added to the group, “I'll see you all tonight. Bye.”

  Colin left to a chorus of smooching sounds serenading him.

  He had to laugh. He did have good friends.

  * * * * *

  On his hands and knees, Marek dug in the moist, nutrient-enriched earth, barely mindful of separating the vegetables from weeds as he tugged carrots from a large wood planter. His movements were jerky and clumsy as he crawled across one aisle of the greenhouse and started planting seedlings for some new lettuce and then jumped up to check on his hanging planters of tomatoes without finishing either of the previous two projects. Marek pulled a few ripe red tomatoes from the vine and slipped them into a canvas bag with a handful of other items to wash later and eat for lunch.

  He suddenly stopped and looked around, spotting a dozen small messes where he'd begun working on something only to get antsy and feel a compulsion to move on to the next. Sleep had eluded him last night, but that wasn't so unusual for Marek. He often made do with a few hours here and there. Letting this sanctuary look like a tornado had swept through it, however, was an aberration. A tribute to his lover who had been a vegetarian, this greenhouse never looked less than perfect.