by Terri Reid
“Well, for instance,” Stanley said “let’s just say you forgot where you put down something important and you’ve been searching for it for a long time. You just tell yourself you’re going to dream about where you put it down and then you do.”
“But how do you remember your dreams?” Ian asked.
“You tell yourself you’re gonna remember them, that’s how,” Stanley replied. “It ain’t rocket science.”
“So, all I have to do is tell myself that I’m going to dream something and then tell myself I’m going to remember it and then it happens?” Ian asked skeptically.
Stanley shook his head. “Just like anything else, it takes practice,” Stanley said. Then he looked pointedly at Ian. “And, of course, you have to have at least an average intelligence for it to work.”
Ian grinned and nodded. “Touché,” he acknowledged and then countered. “So, of course, you’ve never been able to do it either.”
Chuckling, Stanley took another bite of his bread. “Can’t say I have, whippersnapper, can’t say I have.”
Forty-five minutes later, with Clarissa tucked into bed and all of the men happily arguing in the kitchen as they cleaned up from dinner, Mary and Rosie sat next to each other, gazing at the fire.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on inside your head?” Rosie asked. “And don’t tell me nothing. I’ve known you too long for you to pull that one over on me.”
Mary sighed and shook her head. “No, there’s something wrong,” she said. “I just can’t do anything about it.”
“What is it?” Rosie asked.
Mary quickly explained the situation with Alison and the painful outcome.
“Oh, how awful,” Rosie exclaimed. “That poor woman. I don’t know how I’d feel if that were me.”
Mary nodded. “And I have to go back to the assisted living center and tell her,” she said.
“Well, if you need some support, or an excuse to get inside, I’d be happy to go with you,” Rosie said and then she added with a smile. “Of course, we’d have to say we’re looking for my mother, because I’m much too young to be considering a place like that.”
Mary chuckled softly. “Yes, you are,” she said. “Although, I did already pass Stanley off as my aging uncle who was looking over the place.”
“They’ll probably be relieved that you’re bringing me instead of Stanley,” Rosie said.
“He really did put them through the wringer,” Mary confessed. “I’ve never met someone who knew so much about so many different things.”
“Yes, that’s my Stanley,” Rosie said fondly. Then she sat up. “Why Mary, that’s it.”
“What’s it?” Mary asked.
“Why don’t you do what Stanley suggested?”
“Go to a barber shop?”
“No,” Rosie laughed. “Control your dreams. You met Alison through your dreams. Why don’t you try and meet her in your dreams again? Then you can take your time and explain what happened. You could even show her, reenact the situation.”
Mary sat quietly for a few moments. “Do you actually think it would work?” she asked.
Rosie shrugged. “I have absolutely no idea,” she replied. “But you’ve already done the lucid dreaming and it worked. So you probably have more control over your dreams than most of us. Besides, it can’t hurt.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Mary said. “It can’t hurt.”
Chapter Forty-six
“Are you sure this can’t hurt you?” Bradley asked as he lay in bed propped up on his arm, looking down at Mary.
“It’s a dream,” she said. “And, if I do it right, I’ll be in total control.”
“And if you don’t do it right?” he asked.
“Then it will be a dream just like any other dream I’ve had throughout my whole life,” she replied. Reaching up, she stroked his face, enjoying the feel of the rough stubble against her hand. “But it’s really sweet of you to be worried about me.”
He leaned down, their faces only inches apart. “You are the major worry in my life,” he said. “When I start getting gray hairs, they will all have your name on them.”
She slipped her hand from his cheek to his hair, combing her fingers through the thick, soft strands. “You’ll look sexy with gray hair,” she whispered. “So, I don’t mind causing them at all.”
“I’ll look old,” he whispered, leaning down and softly kissing her lips.
“You’ll look distinguished,” she replied, returning the kiss.
He pulled back and looked down at her. “Distinguished?” he asked. “That’s a code word for old.”
She chuckled softly, pulled him closer and increased the intensity of the next kiss. “Have I ever mentioned how attracted I’ve always been to older police officers?” she asked, sliding her lips to his neck and nibbling on his jaw.
“No, you never mentioned that,” he murmured before moving his head, capturing her lips once again and causing her blood to simmer. He lifted his head and smiled down into her passion glazed eyes. “Should I be worried?”
Shaking her head, she sighed. “Oh, no, you don’t ever have to be worried.”
He slid down next to her on the bed and pulled her into his arms. “Good answer, Mrs. Alden,” he whispered into her ear as his hands slowly caressed her body. “Very good answer.”
Later that night, relaxed and nestled in Bradley’s embrace, Mary smiled to herself as she listened to the light snoring coming from the man beside her. She lifted her head and placed a soft kiss on his chin. “I love you,” she whispered.
He grumbled a sleepy response and pulled her closer. Safe in his arms, she purposely brought the halls in her nightmare to mind and pictured herself wandering around in the maze. She imagined meeting Alison in front of the door that held access to her daughter. Over and over again, she replayed the scene, walking through the halls, calling out Alison’s name and finally meeting her in front of the door. She didn’t go past that point, didn’t want to think about what she was going to have to tell the ghost once they finally met.
Finally, her breathing slowed, her body relaxed and she was asleep.
“I’m in,” she said triumphantly as she looked around her dream and realized she was actually in the hallways of her former nightmare. She walked to a window and looked out and was not surprised to see the grounds around the convent. She could see the gardens, the walkways and even the cemetery from her vantage point.
“Alison,” she called softly. “Alison I need to speak with you.”
Mary waited for an answer for a moment and, hearing nothing, continued down the hall toward the door that had barred both she and Alison from the baby. The passageway turned and twisted, but this was familiar ground by now and Mary easily found her way to the door.
“Alison,” she called again. “It’s Mary. I need to speak with you.”
Looking around, Mary was disappointed that Alison had not appeared.
“Well, maybe she’s already in the room,” she reasoned.
Mary opened the door and was surprised to find herself stepping out onto the grassy hilltop of the cemetery. She paused in the door, not quite ready to leave the safety of familiar surroundings, when she saw a young woman standing in the midst of the graves on the far side of the cemetery. Wearing a smock dress with her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she was a petite, young woman with strawberry blonde hair and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Looking around, the young woman spied Mary in the doorway.
“Can you please help me?” she called.
Mary hesitated. She really needed to find Alison.
“Please,” the girl begged as tears coursed down her cheeks.
“Well, crap,” Mary thought. She could never turn away from someone crying. With a resigned sigh, Mary stepped forward and quickly moved across the ground that separated her from the girl.
“How can I help you?” Mary asked, standing next to her amongst the collection of small graves and markers.
�
��I’ve lost someone and I can’t find her,” she said, turning back and forth in confused urgency.
“Who did you lose?” Mary asked.
“My baby,” the girl sobbed, her voice becoming more agitated and urgent. “My baby, she’s missing. She’s not here.”
Mary felt her heart break for the young mother. “Are you sure she’s here?” Mary asked.
The girl looked up at her, her eyes filled with tears, and nodded. “Yes, she’s here. She has to be here,” she said. “I watched them lay her in the ground, and now I can’t find her.”
“Tell me her name,” Mary said. “And I’ll help you look. I’m sure she’s here.”
“Bernadette,” the girl replied. “I named her after my sister.”
Mary stopped and looked at the girl. It was difficult to initially see because she was so young, but there was a definite resemblance to the elderly nun. “Sister Bernadette?” Mary asked. “Was she your sister?”
The girl nodded and covered her face with her hands, slowly lowering herself to the ground. “I could never be like her,” she cried. “She was so good. She followed all the rules. My parents were so proud of her. But, I wanted…” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “But I wanted my daughter to be like her, even though I couldn’t be.”
“She’s not here.”
Mary turned quickly at the sound of the voice behind her. Sister Bernadette stood on the sidewalk near them, her hands hidden in the front panel of her habit, and shook her head.
“Where is she?” the young woman begged. “What did you do with her?”
A single tear formed in the corner of the old nun’s eye and traveled down the crevices of her wrinkled face. “I took her home,” she whispered gently. “I took you both home.”
“Home?”
“You and your sweet baby are buried in the cemetery back home,” Sister Bernadette explained. “I couldn’t leave you here.”
Still not sure of her welcome, the young woman hesitated. “Thank you, Bernie,” she said. “I’m so sorry…”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Anna,” Sister Bernadette interrupted. “You were a kind, loving and compassionate person, and had we all just realized how wonderful you were, you wouldn’t have been lost to us. I’m so sorry.”
It took no more than those words to qualm any hesitation. Anna rose and threw herself into her sister’s arms. “I love you, Bernie,” she sobbed.
“I love you too, Anna,” her sister replied, her voice thick with tears. “And I’ve been searching for you. I wanted to bring you home for such a long time.”
“I’m ready,” Anna said eagerly. “I’m ready to go home.”
Sister Bernadette glanced over at Mary and smiled. “Thank you,” she whispered and then she and her sister faded away.
Chapter Forty-seven
“So, how did your controlled dreaming go last night?” Ian asked as they drove toward Sol’s house in Pearl City.
Mary shook her head. “The controlled part fell pretty far from the mark,” she admitted. “But the resolution was amazing. I didn’t, however, meet up with Alison, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to make another trip to the assisted living center.”
“I’ll go with you,” Ian volunteered.
She turned and smiled at him. “Thank you for offering,” she said. “But Rosie’s already volunteered and I feel she’s a little better cover story than you.”
“I don’t know,” Mike said. “Ian’s been looking a little worse for wear lately. You might be able to pass him off as a senior citizen.”
“Thanks, Mike,” Ian replied.
“Hey, any time,” Mike responded.
There was silence in the vehicle for a few moments, and then Ian spoke quietly. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” he said.
She continued to look ahead out of the windshield to the corn fields filled with golden brown stalks ready for the harvest and farmhouses on the edge of the roads with pumpkins and spider webs adorning their front porches. “Yes, I do,” she replied with a resigned sigh. “If I run away now, I’ve let it win.”
“No, you’ve just avoided a potential pitfall,” he argued. “There’s naught wrong with that.”
She turned to look at him. “Would you, if it were you?” she asked.
He took a deep breath and thought about it for a moment before he answered. “No. No, I wouldna, if you’re asking for the truth,” he said honestly. “But I’m not carrying a wee bairn and I don’t have as many people relying on me as you do.”
“You have people relying on you,” Mary insisted. “Me for one.”
She glanced over her seat, looking at Mike and nodding meaningfully. Mike just nodded back and smiled. Widening her eyes, she motioned towards Ian with her head, but Mike just looked confused. Finally, rolling her eyes, she said, “And Mike, you must rely on Ian.”
Mikes eyes finally widened in understanding and he nodded. “Well, yeah, of course I do,” he said.
“Do you now?” Ian asked, a smile on his face. “And what is it that you rely upon me for?”
“Well, there’s no one in town that gives me as much material for my jokes as you do,” he replied. “You’re pretty much a joke a minute.”
“Mike!” Mary scolded.
Ian and Mike both laughed. “Now, you’re in trouble,” Ian said, glancing at Mike through the rearview.
“Yep, Mom’s mad,” Mike teased. “No dessert after dinner tonight.”
“You are both such brats,” she remarked, folding her arms over her chest.
“Okay, back down to serious business,” Ian said once the laughter had faded away. “We don’t leave you alone in the house and if you feel the least bit nervous, you let us know.”
Mary nodded. “I’m perfectly fine with that,” she said. “Have you figured out how you want to set up the cameras?”
“Yes, we’ll stay away from the dining room because that could give us some false positives that would ruin our plan,” he said. “We wire the parlor, the living room and the staircase, but make sure that all of the cameras rotate enough to look out the window.”
“Why do you want them to look out the window?” Mike asked.
“Ah, and there’s the beauty in the plan,” Ian said with a smile. “But I’m not going to ruin the surprise. You’ll just have to wait with the rest of them for the great unveiling.”
They arrived at the house a few minutes later. Ian turned in his seat to Mike. “Why don’t you let us enter the house first?” he suggested. “Just to see if there is any residual demon presence before you come in.”
“Are you sure?” Mike asked.
Ian nodded. “Yeah, this way we’ll know if we have to be on guard before you walk in and cause it to hide in the shadows.”
“Okay, you want your enemies out in the open, not camouflaged,” Mike said.
“Exactly,” Ian replied.
Mary and Ian walked up the porch steps, Ian making sure he was in front of Mary, protecting her from any surprise coming from the inside of the house. “How are you doing?” he asked.
She took a deep breath. “So far, so good,” she replied.
He inserted the key into the lock, turned the knob and opened the door. They stepped inside into the front hall and Ian paused to look at her. “Well, how are your feeling now?” he asked.
Mary took a couple steps into the hall, her footsteps on the polished wood floor echoing in the house. Stopping at the base of the staircase, she took another deep breath and tried to release the tension in her body. She knew she was just waiting for something to happen.
“So?” Ian asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing so far,” she said. “But I’m going to try something different.”
She closed her eyes, and with her other senses, including her sixth sense, tried to seek out any uneasiness or threat in the house. She took a mental walk into the parlor and living room and up the staircase. Finally, she mentally moved down the dark hallway and into the dining room. N
othing. She felt absolutely nothing.
“I feel okay,” she finally told Ian, opening her eyes. “I don’t feel any paranormal threats.”
“Okay then,” Ian said, turning towards the parlor and his pile of equipment. “Then let’s get to work.”
Chapter Forty-eight
Mary, Mike and Ian started on the first floor, running very visible lines from the cameras and sound recorders back to a main instrument panel in the parlor. They had been working for several hours when Mike came back into the parlor to find Ian.
“I don’t remember all these lines before,” Mike said, looking around the room that had several dozen strands of cable running across the floor and over the Oriental rug to a foldable table that Ian was working behind. “When you set up in Bradley’s old house.”
“These are more for show,” Ian explained. “I want Sol to believe that if there was a camera around, there would also have to be obvious wiring attached to it.”
“Ah, setting the trap, are we Professor?” Mike asked.
“Yes, and we want to be sure we have this one caught securely,” Ian commented as he adjusted the control panel. He lifted his head and looked up at Mike. “Do me a favor and hop out to the kitchen and tell me if the camera lens is moving.”
Mike disappeared and then reappeared a few moments later. “Yeah, it’s got a horizontal movement, but not a vertical one,” he replied.
“That’s fine,” Ian said. “All I need is horizontal.”
Mary, who was in the hallway next to them, walked into the parlor and brushed her hands together. “Okay, the final curtain has been pulled back enough to see the outside,” she said. “And I’ve set some things around it so it looks like it was an accident on our part as we were setting up microphones. Mike, did you ask Ian about Marty?”
“What about Marty?” Ian asked.
“I got distracted,” Mike admitted at the same time.
“I haven’t heard from Marty lately,” Mary said. “Not since after the dining room incident. I’ve been calling to him as I’ve worked around the house, but I’ve gotten no response. Have you seen him?”
