IMMORTAL OF MY DREAMS
by
Alexis McNeil
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PUBLISHED BY:
Alexis McNeil
Immortal of My Dreams
Copyright © 2010 by Alexis McNeil
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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There are a few people I’d like to thank.
Nik, for giving me that first romance book to read and starting it all. My parents, for supporting me no matter how bizarre my ideas were and for watching the two little hellions so I could write. Mae, for your encouragement and a great cover shot. To the best critique group, Susie, Dawn, Shannon, Morgan, Nik, and Mom, I couldn’t have done it without you! And Rick, for supporting me no matter what road I head down.
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IMMORTAL OF MY DREAMS
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CHAPTER ONE
Present Day,
New York City
I slowly hung up the phone while my chest constricted. I clenched my teeth together to keep the cries inside, so my co-workers wouldn’t know my life just crashed down around me. What was I supposed to do now? I had to make arrangements, needed to talk to Gerdie; she’d have all the answers.
First, I had to get out of here. My dull, gray cubicle walls shrank down around me by the second. The office air became stifling as a gray haze filled my vision. I reached out to grab my chair, the desk, anything.
I blinked a few times to straighten my blurry vision and peered up into a dozen co-workers’ worried faces. Cassie loomed over me. “Jilly, are you okay?” she asked with concern in her voice.
“W-what happened?” I asked rubbing my head.
“No one knows.” Cassie kneeled down next to me and tucked her short black bob behind her ears. “We think you passed out. Do you remember anything?”
“I remember getting a phone call—“ I sucked in my breath and slowly sat up. Oh God, the phone call! “My gram died,” I said numbly. “Her neighbor from Scotland called me with the news.” The phone call replayed over and over in my head. I slumped forward and wrapped my arms around my middle.
Cassie rubbed my back. “It will be all right, Jilly.” She turned and glared at the bystanders. “Okay people, give her some breathing room.” The crowd dispersed from my cubicle and Cassie helped me into my chair. “Do you want me to drive you home?”
“I haven’t seen her since last Christmas,” I mumbled raising my hand to my throbbing head. “That was almost a year ago. I tried to visit her and make time, but work seemed more important. It’s too late now!” I wiped away the tears threatening to run down my cheeks. “Now she’s gone. All my family is gone,” I said quietly.
“Jillian, I’ll help you get through this.” Cassie pulled open my file drawer and withdrew my purse. “That’s what friends are for. Come on, I’m taking you home.” She helped me stand up and gently steered me away from my desk.
I sniffed my nose and dried my eyes with a tissue. “I should stay. I have work to finish.”
“You’re not going to think about work right now. I’m taking you home and that’s that, boss’s orders!”
We drove in silence for a half-hour to my three story apartment building. The architecture reminded me of my gram’s house in Scotland, which I loved. Large, tan sandstone formed my building’s arched windows, doorways, and exterior walls. I often pretended I lived back in Scotland, a million miles away from the hustle and bustle of the city that surrounded me.
Twelve apartments made-up my building with the majority of elderly people renting them out. Two young people, including me, made the exception. On the plus side, the tenants stayed silent unless my eighty-three year old neighbor forgot to turn her hearing aid on and watched T.V. The whole building would shake with the food network blasting.
Cassie pulled her car to the curb and turned off the engine. “Do you want me to come in, or would you prefer to be alone right now? I’d understand either way. I remember when I lost my grandma. I know how it is.”
“I think I want to be alone for now.”
Cassie leaned over and gave me a big hug. ”If you change your mind, call. I’ll be back in the morning to check up on you.”
I nodded, opened the car door, and climbed out into the brisk fall afternoon. Cassie started her car, honked, and pulled away. I staggered up the steps to my building emotionally exhausted. I should have been there for my gram. All she had was me.
With shaky hands, I punched in the code to the front door of my building and stepped into the brightly lit foyer stopping at the mailboxes. I gathered my mail and trudged up the stairs to the second floor pausing in front of my door. While I rifled through my purse searching for my keys, a shuffling sound caught my attention. I glanced over my shoulder and found my neighbor, Rosie standing behind me. I turned and her pink fuzzy slippers stood toe to toe with me.
“Oh, Jilly…it’s you!” Rosie said as a huge grin fell across her face. “I came to see who was out here trying to get into your apartment. I ran over here as fast as the dickens ready to beat the perp over the head with this cucumber.”
I peered down through blurry eyes at her hands, sure enough, she held a cucumber. “Thanks for keeping guard of my apartment,” I said with a sniffle. I stared in awe at Rosie’s blond-white up-doo and her bright turquoise muumuu covered in large magenta gladiolas. The flower printed material overwhelmed her frail, five foot tall frame. “I think you should get a baseball bat or something a little bigger if you decide you’re going to beat ‘perps’ over the head.”
“Oh, you’re so smart, Jillian. I’ll go shopping for a bat when Lionel comes to visit this weekend. Jilly, you should come and have dinner with me and my son. I’ll make meatloaf.”
“Thanks.” I knew the only reason she wanted me to come to dinner was so I’d spend time with her son. “I already have plans this weekend, maybe some other time.” I pushed my way into my apartment before she could persuade me and closed the door. “I’ll talk to you later, Rosie. I have to feed Walter.”
“Don’t forget, my handsome son doesn’t bite,” Rosie said from the other side of my door.
I leaned against the door and sighed. I scanned my peaceful, but cramped home. My small apartment consisted of a bedroom, one bath, a small kitchenette with a dining area, and a living room with a huge window, which faced the back of another building across the alleyway.
I leaned my back against the door, grateful for the silence. Well, almost, Walter weaved in and out of my legs purring. I slid down the door and patted him on his soft, gray and black striped head. “Did you miss me, little munchkin? Mommy missed you.” I picked him up and squeezed him to my chest feeling somewhat comforted. He let out a cry and I quickly loosened my hold.
I carried Walter, cradling him like a baby in my arms, over to the kitchen area and tossed my purse, keys, and mail down onto the small wood table. Reaching into Walter’s cabinet, I grabbed a can of his gourmet food, which most of the time looked and smelled far better than the fo
od I ate. While I opened the can, Walter meowed loudly and sidled around my legs. I dumped his food into his dish and he began eating before I moved my hand out of the way. I rubbed the plush fur on his back and went over to the table. Scanning through my two pieces of mail, I found a flyer to re-vote for a judge I’ve never heard of and a pizza ad with coupons. I put the coupons on the fridge and noticed the message light blinked on my answering machine. I hit “play” and listened.
“Good afternoon my sweet lassie, ‘tis ye’re Gram Elspeth. I realized I ha’ frequent flyer miles I need ta use up. I wondered if I bought ye a plane ticket, if ye’d come see me. I miss ye sweet lassie, love ye.” Click.
My gram. My heart sunk. This message was from last night. If only I left work at five instead of staying late, I could have talked to her one last time. Instead, I worked well past midnight and received an immense migraine for all my efforts. When I returned home, I had only thought of my inviting bed and completely forgot to check my messages. To hear her voice, if only for a minute. I replayed the message. And replayed again. One more time. I’d never hear her comforting voice again. I pressed the save button. I missed her so much already.
I headed straight to the bathroom and lifelessly took my clothes off. Stepping into the scalding hot shower, I sunk to the floor letting the spray wash over me. Reluctantly, the flood gates opened and the tears I held back came rushing out in an abundance mixing with the water running over my face.
I don’t know how long I sat there, but the water turned lukewarm and still I sat. Tears no longer came. I had nothing left in me. The emptiness reminded me of when I lost my parents, of being alone.
When the water turned cold, I stepped out, put my bathrobe on, and snuggled in my bed with Walter, who waited for me. Eventually, sometime after midnight, my puffy eyes drifted shut falling asleep to the memory of the last visit with my gram.
We snuggled next to each other on her worn plaid couch in front of the warm fire while snow quietly spread over the town outside. I stared into the fire as my gram talked about the special Christmas mass she wanted to go to with Gerdie and me. I glanced up to the mantel when an old photograph I’ve never seen before caught my eye. “Is that grandda?” I asked.
My gram followed my gaze to the old picture. “Aye, Gerdie and I cleaned the house before ye came and I found that photograph tucked away.”
I pushed the blanket back and moved over to the picture. It was just a small, frameless, five by seven, sepia colored photograph leaning against other frames on the mantel. My grandda--who appeared to be in his twenties--stood holding hands with a young man whose face I couldn’t make out. The picture was all blurry where the man’s face should’ve been, like someone smudged the picture with their thumb.
“’Twas before I met ye’re grandda,” my gram said from the couch. “I believe the stranger next ta him was one of his best friends. They were inseparable…so I hear. I met him once when he visited us ta see ye’re da when he was a newborn.” I cast a glance over at my gram and saw the smile cross her wrinkled face. She ran her hand through her short, wavy, white hair. “He was a nice fellow, verra handsome. He gave ye’re grandda and me his blessings and we ne’er saw him again. I dinna ken what happened ta him.”
I rubbed my thumb over my grandda in the photo and slowly regarded the man standing beside him. The stranger grasped my grandda’s hand in a friendly hold. A huge oval stone ring adorned the man’s finger.
My gram cleared her throat. “Jilly lass, that’s what ye need, a good mon.
A bitter laugh escaped me. “I’m cursed Gram, didn’t you know that?”
“What’s the real reason, lass,” she said quietly. “I ken ye ha’ found a many good men. Ye just dinna keep them.”
I placed the photo back on the mantel and walked back over to the couch plunking down next to my gram. I stared at my hands for a moment as I played with the frayed edge of the blanket. “It’s-.” She rubbed my arm up and down waiting patiently for me to continue. “It’s just; I know how much you loved grandda. I know how much love my parents had for each other. When—“ I quickly blinked trying to dry my eyes. “When my dad and grandda died, I saw what their deaths did to you and especially my mom. She became a shell of her former self after losing my dad, her true love. I don’t ever want to go through that kind of loss.”
“’Tis understandable lass, but me and ye’re grandda had a verra good life together. I ha’ no regrets. And ye’re parents loved each other so strongly, not even death could break their bond. I ken I’ll see my loved ones again.” She gently raised my chin with one of her knobby fingers, so I met her gaze. “Ye’d rather be scared ye’re whole life than ne’er experience a powerful kind of love that could make ye’re life verra special?”
I smiled and sardonically laughed. “If I could find a man who lived forever, maybe I’d consider falling in love.” I took a sip from my mug filled with brandy and a drop of coffee. “But that type of man doesn’t exist.”
My gram pressed her thin lips tightly together and smoothed my hair. She took one of my long locks in-between her finger tips and studied it. “Ye ha’ ye’re grandda’s coloring. So many shades o’ reds, oranges, and browns…like a bootiful fall day in Dornoch.” She smiled a sad smile. “True love will find ye when ye least expect it lass.”
I peered out the corner of my eyes at her. “I’m twenty seven years old, Gram. I don’t think there’s much hope for me.”
She pinched my cheek. “Right, because ye’re so old lass.” We both laughed and she peeked over at me one last time while she opened the book resting on her lap.
“Why do you read that?” I asked, glancing at the old beat up book about Scotland’s legends and myths.
She raised one eyebrow over her wire frame glasses. “Because every story has a wee bit o’ truth ta it.”
“Right,” I said sarcastically.
“I believe there’s a legend aboot men who live forever in here…if ye care ta hear it….“
I smiled. “Go ahead, Gram, I know you want to read the tale to me.”
She flipped through the pages and stopped halfway through the book. “This is the story o’ ‘The Immortals’.” I hunkered down in the corner of the couch and got comfortable as she began to read about handsome immortals, their keepers, and soul mates. I yawned, closed my eyes, and drifted to sleep listening to my gram’s soothing Scottish burr.
“Jilly, I know you’re in there, open up!”
I heard Cassie shout from the other side of my apartment door. I wore my bathrobe all snuggled under the covers of my bed feeling swollen, ugly, and horrible. I’m sure my raw nose glowed bright red, if the mountain of crumpled tissues on the floor was any indication. The sun spilled in through the cracks of the curtains. It must be morning, or maybe afternoon, whatever time, I didn’t care.
“I’ve got bagels and coffee! If you let me in, I’ll feed Walter. You know he has to eat, even if you don’t! Jilly, come on.” The last sounded more like a plea and she did have a good point about Walter. He had been meowing loudly before, but gave up and now hearing Cassie at the door, his ears perked up at his second chance for breakfast. He stared at me from the bedroom doorway and began meowing again while sending me a pitiful feline look.
I flung the covers back, jumped out of my cocoon of blankets, and stomped to the door. “Fine, I’m coming!” I unlatched the lock, swung open the door, and stood aside to let Cassie come in.
“Oh, Jilly, you look—you want to talk?” she asked with a pained expression.
“No, I don’t, so if you’re here to get me to spill my guts and cry, you might as well just go.” I fought back the lump in my throat and willed my eyes not to tear over.
“Jilly, sweetie, whatever you want. We could watch a movie or something, just hang out and let our brains turn to mush?”
“Don’t you have to be at work?”
“I’m the boss. I can play hooky any day I want.”
I chewed on my bottom lip for a second. “I
guess a movie sounds okay,” I said eyeing up the container full of bagels she put on the counter. My stomach growled and it occurred to me I hadn’t eaten any food since yesterday at lunch.
We began watching Good Will Hunting and shortly into it, Cassie asked, “Do you have tickets?”
“No, I was kind of waiting to talk to you today and see how much time I could take off.”
“Jilly, get your lap top. I’m ordering the tickets for you.”
I pushed off from the couch. “Let me grab my credit card—“
“Uh-uh, you’re my best writer at the magazine and my best friend. I’m buying them, no ifs, ands, or buts!” Since I was friends with Cassie for three years now, I knew there was no point in arguing. She always got her way.
I rolled my eyes and brought my laptop over to the couch letting Cassie plug away, finding the best rates for plane flights. As I waited for her to get the tickets, I noticed my photo box sitting on the bottom shelf of my coffee table. I bent down and ran my fingers over the torn leather box bringing it to my lap. I removed the lid and began flipping through the photos.
My senior prom flashed by, a couple baby pictures, Walter looking extremely handsome in a bow tie for Halloween, a—. My heart stopped. In my hands, I held a picture of my mom and me sitting on the brown grass covered sand dunes at Dornoch Point looking out over the firth. I closed my eyes and the memory painfully came alive.
The cool breeze whipped our hair into our faces as we sat on the white sand, wrapped in one of my grandda’s tartans. I watched the sea birds dive into the firth and come out empty handed a few times before they made a catch.
“Look at you sweetie,” my mom said wrapping her arms around me. “You have such long legs, a clear complexion…your dad’s vibrant green eyes. You’re going to break a lot of hearts. I just hope you leave one of them whole.”
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