The Farmer's Daughter: The Dragon Dream: Book One

by Robin Janney

  “Son…” How could he say this? “I’m sorry it was so hard for you. I understand why.”

  Craig’s watery eyes turned to him. “Do you?”

  He drew a deep breath. “Your stepmother came to me about two months ago. She broke down and told me what happened between you two boys and her.”

  “Did she now?” His son’s voice was full of disbelief and disdain.

  “I’m still sick to my stomach about it. I didn’t want to believe it at first, even after Tim confirmed it. Almost threw her out, but she said she’d go to therapy.”

  “I wish her luck in that.” Craig’s gaze returned to his wife. He bent low, speaking lovingly to her. “Hey honey, guess who showed up today? My dad. Can you believe it? Don’t you want to wake up and meet him?”

  “Why didn’t you say something, Craig?” Les asked, distraught, unsure if it was the subject matter or his son talking to his comatose wife bothering him. “I love you, son; I would have believed you.”

  Anger blazed in his son’s eyes as he looked back at him. His hand held his wife’s tightly, as if trying to draw strength from her. “Dad, Veronica was your wife. She’s still your wife! I didn’t think you’d believe me because of that. And even if you did, I didn’t want you to feel as if you had to choose because I wasn’t sure which way you’d have chosen! You were always closer to Tim, and even he wasn’t sure. I thought, damn – my dad’s favorite son isn’t sure he’d believe us, we’re screwed.”

  Les let his son’s anger run its course, let the boy pull away and return to his seat. He looked down at the hand his son had been holding, saw a familiar ring on her finger. He lifted the thin hand to get a better look at the ring. “I would have chosen you.”

  “If that’s true, why are you still with her knowing that she raped both your sons? Repeatedly?”

  How had his son come to possess the ring he’d given the boys’ birthmother? Les thought it had been buried with her. Realizing he was holding his daughter-in-law’s fragile hand, he lowered it. He’d failed Connie, in so many ways. He’d failed their sons.

  “I don’t have a good answer for you, Craig. I’ve been married to Veronica for almost as long as you are old. It’s hard to throw away what we had. What I thought we had.” Grabbing a folding chair from the corner, he brought it over and sat beside his son. “I promise you, if I see the first hint she’s not taking her therapy seriously, I will divorce her.”

  Craig nodded, wiping at wet cheeks again. “I don’t know whether to hope it works or not.”

  “I understand.” Les glanced back at the hospital bed. “Not to change the subject, but how did you end up with your mother’s engagement ring?”

  “What?”

  “The ring on your wife’s finger is the one I gave to your mother Connie. It was supposed to have been buried with her.”

  His son shrugged. “It was one of the things Grandma Annie left me when she died. I assumed it was hers.”

  “That conniving old…” Les took a deep breath, gave his son half a smile. “Forgive me, son. Your grandmother and I never got along, even before your mother’s death.”

  “I know. Thank you for letting her be in our life though.”

  “Your mother would have come back to haunt me if I hadn’t,” Les said with a chuckle.

  “Do you want the ring back? I can get Angela another one.”

  “No,” Les patted his son’s shoulder and regarded the comatose young woman again. “I think it’s right where it’s supposed to be. And I wouldn’t be surprised if it was your mother’s dying wish. She knew your birth was going to be her death, and she regretted never being able to meet you.” He made a frustrated sound and could no longer keep back his opinions. It was the easier conversation. “Forgive me, Craig, but is your wife getting the best care here? You live in a very quaint area. Wouldn’t it be better if you moved her to a more up-to-date hospital?”

  Craig shook his head. “No. They don’t want her transported anywhere. They’re still worried about the head trauma. She has a history of concussions. The pressure only stopped increasing a few days ago. The coma is no longer medically induced, but they don’t know when or if she’ll wake up. And I want her surrounded by a staff which cares for her.”

  Nodding, Les let it drop.

  A gentle rap on the door drew both their attention to the entryway. It had to be Angela’s family standing in the open doorway.

  “Are we interrupting?” asked the man, his knuckles still against the door.

  “No. No, come in Philip.” Craig rose to his feet, as did Les. “Dad, this is Angela’s family. Her parents, Philip and Maude Carman. Her sister, Cassie. Everybody, this is my Dad. Ah, Les Moore.”

  “Nice to meet you,” said Philip, offering his hand. Curiosity shone brightly in dangerous eyes.

  Les shook the offered hand. “A pity the circumstances are so sad.” He shook the women’s hands as well. The teen girl sported a shocking peacock blue hair color, curls cascading from a high ponytail. How did this area handle such a radical? “I plan on being in the area for a few days. Please, if there’s anything I can do for you,” he added his son in his look to make sure Craig knew he was included, “anything, please let me know.”

  “That’s so kind,” Angela’s mother said with a sad smile as she placed a basket on the room’s tray table. Les wondered if it was food for his son.

  “I’ll leave you for now. I don’t want to intrude.” He walked to the door before they could protest. On second thought, he turned in the doorway. “Cassie, correct?”

  “Yes,” answered the bold teen girl, her blue eyebrows raising.

  “I like the hair.”

  She beamed at him. “Thank you!”

  “Oh Lord,” said Maude, raising her eyes heavenward. “Just what she needs.”

  Philip and Craig were both chuckling.

  “I’ll walk out with you, Dad,” his son was saying. “I’ll be right back Philip.”

  A s Craig walked his father to the elevators, he didn’t know what to say. He was angry, and yet at the same time glad to see his father. “Where are you staying, sir? I have plenty of room, you could stay with me. I’ve had my security system upgraded.”

  “They got in while you were gone?”

  “They did.” Craig nodded, joining his father in the elevator. “They’re still not sure how. Cops didn’t find any prints, and nothing was stolen. They just left the note.”

  “Are they sure the problem’s taken care of? The news said her kidnappers were all dead.”

  He shrugged. “It seems that way. But I can’t shake the feeling there’s more to it than that. Back in September two of my former employees tried framing Angela for robbery. They haven’t proven it yet, but they think the two were involved somehow.”

  Les nodded as the elevator doors open and they stepped out on the ground floor. Crossing the lobby, his father made a counteroffer, “I’ve already booked a room in Jordan. I’ll spend tonight there, but I’ll take you up on your offer tomorrow. Would it be alright if I bring one of my detectives into the area? Fresh eyes might see things better.”

  “I would appreciate that.” Craig hesitated. “I’d be alright with that. Just, let me tell Angela’s father so he can make sure someone doesn’t accidently kill your detective. I’ll explain later.”

  His father looked at him curiously but didn’t comment.

  “Thanks for coming, Dad. I’m sorry I didn’t call you.”

  Les nodded and drew him into an embrace. It was less awkward than before, for both men. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  His father nodded and walked away.

  Returning to Angela’s room, Craig was surprised to be confronted by an angry Philip holding his sketchbook out to him.

  “What is this?”

  Looking at the sketch presented to him, he wondered how to explain. It was a scene from the Dragon Dream he’d had the day of Angela’s abduction. She, along with her brother and mo
ther had each stood in a different reality…it had been hard on the eyes, because he’d been able to see each. Angela stood in a field of summer daisies with a bright and cloudless sky; Randy had large white clouds behind him in a field of moonflowers; the woman he assumed was Angela’s mother had stood in a field of lavender beneath a starry sky. It was softer in the sketch, with the red sand of his own reality as a border.

  “It’s something I saw in a dream,” he tried to explain. Maude looked almost as upset. “When I was unconscious the day I was shot.”

  “Randy, I can understand, because I know you’ve seen pictures of him.” Philip pointed to the other woman in the sketch, hair redder than Angela’s in any reality. “But we don’t have pictures of Jeannie for a reason. There’s no way you could know what she looks like.”

  “Jeannie?” He took the sketchbook from his father-in-law. “Like I said, it’s something I dreamt. I assumed she was Angela’s mother.”

  “It is.” Philip walked quickly in a circle, anger slowly leaving him. At length, he spoke again. “I’m sorry, Craig, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen anything resembling a picture of my sister.”

  Craig nodded, thought of the other sketches in this book. “Did you by any chance look at the other sketches?”

  His father-in-law nodded. “I did. Are they also from the dream you mentioned?”

  Craig nodded, putting the sketchbook to the side.

  Philip crossed to stand beside his daughter, laying unresponsive in the bed. “If that’s where she is, with Randy and her mother, will she ever come back to us?”

  His other daughter, standing on the other side of the bed, covered her mouth. Tears began to slide down her cheeks. “But…I’ve never gotten a chance to tell her I love her, that I’m sorry.”

  Her mother’s arms came around her.

  Long after they had left, Craig remained by his wife’s side. He talked as he ate the sandwiches his mother-in-law had brought him. They said Angela might be able to hear what was going on around her, her brain activity remained between resting and on the verge of waking.

  Once his food was gone, he pulled the chair close to the bed. Lowering the side rail, he took her hand in his and laid his head against her shoulder as he had before when she’d been in this same hospital recovering from pneumonia. “I have to go soon, to walk Princess and feed her. I’ll come back as soon as I can. Angela?” There was no response, but he waited a moment anyway. “I love you.”

  56

  “W

  hat’s in the cards you don’t play?”

  “Maybe.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “I’m afraid, Angela. I want more than just friendship…”

  “You’re my girlfriend, Angela. I worry about you.”

  “Angela…I can’t take this anymore. I’m dying inside. I’m sorry. If I could just talk with you, mend this. I just…”

  “Losing you…would be the end of my world.”

  “Angela Destiny Carman, I love you and I’m asking you to be my wife.”

  Memories bled away into the present.

  “If she ever wants to leave me, she can have it all because my life will be over.”

  “Angel? Please come back to me.”

  “This is my favorite voice,” the girl playing at His feet said. She was braiding a chain of daisies. Not her first one here, but He meant it to be her last. “Why is that?”

  “Why do you think?”

  “Angel, I miss you. Squeeze my hand if you can hear me…”

  “It sounds like he loves me,” she answered. Her eyes squeezed shut tightly as her body squeezed his hand in the mortal world. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard this request or responded to it. “But not like the others. Not even Randy loved me like this.”

  “Yes, this is true.” He had sent her brother and mother away from her long ago. One wanted her to stay, the other wanted her to go back and their discord had begun to upset the girl even though her heart had already made the decision. “Do you remember rescuing him?”

  “Did I? I thought the dying man rescued me?”

  “That is the way of this kind of love,” He told her, allowing her to place the crown she’d made upon His head.

  “I need you, Angela. Please, honey…come back to me…”

  “He’s sad. Is this why I think of him as the dying man?”

  “Yes,” He told her. “This is also the way of this kind of love. It’s not that the dying man can’t live without you, it’s that he doesn’t want to.”

  “But I’m scared,” she admitted to Him. “What if he doesn’t want me anymore? There are things I don’t remember. Important things.”

  He didn’t answer this, letting the voice of her beloved speak for himself.

  “Angel, honey…please come home…I – I need you. I don’t know how much longer I can live without you.”

  “What does that sound like to you?” He asked the little girl, running His hand affectionately over her braids.

  Her lips trembled. “Like he still needs rescuing.”

  “I can’t promise you it will be easy.”

  “It’s never easy there,” she whispered.

  “This is true,” He agreed.

  “How do I find him?” she asked, and He smiled. He had been waiting for her to ask this, it had to be her decision when to leave.

  “Come with me.” He stood and held His scarred hand out to her. She took it, running her fingers over the nail marks.

  “Not all scars can be seen,” she said.

  “Remember that.” He led her to the border of her reality, walking hand in hand. “You will forget many things from this place. But remember what you just said.”

  “I will.”

  They paused where the border of daisies and a red sandy desert blended together. He could go no further, and she looked up at Him in surprise.

  “Why does he live here? Aren’t You here too?”

  “I am. But your beloved sees Me differently. He thinks of Me as a distant King, not a childhood friend. In many ways, you are My light in his darkness.” He knelt to her level. “It will be different when you’re with him, and you may not see Me like this for some time. But I am always with you.”

  She nodded and wrapped her arms around Him. “I’ll try to not be afraid, but it’s so hard there!”

  He held her as though it was the last time. “It’s alright to be afraid sometimes. But don’t let that fear rule your life. I will help you when I can.”

  Nodding, the little girl pulled away. Her hands touched His face. “You remind me of someone I know there.” Her head tilted. “A Dr. Evans. His eyes look like yours.”

  “I know.”

  “Angel…”

  “I have to go now,” she said. “I’ve been gone too long, haven’t I?”

  “It will seem that way, but I wanted this time with you.” He turned her towards the desert and gave her a little nudge. His heart was sad to think He’d never see this little girl again. Her innocence was lost, and she was returning to a world which abused her, all for the love of the dying man whose cries she couldn’t ignore. She was leaving this reality for a far harsher one. “Go on now…run to the dying man…run Starlight and don’t look back…follow his voice and shine in his darkness!”

  She did as He asked, running into the desert towards the dying man. Tears fell to the ground as He watched her running form shed that of the little girl, but the woman she was turning into would be far fiercer and would shine brighter. He loved her for that, as would the dying man.

  A nd the woman was running, though she was tired, though she was frightened, and the sun burnt her. The closer she got to the dying man, the louder his voice became and the more she knew her love for him.

  “Angela? Philip! I think she’s waking up! Angel, listen to my voice, follow my voice…squeeze my hand if you can hear me…”

  Something squeezed, she didn’t know what. She was running into the sun.

  “That�
�s it! Now open those beautiful blue eyes of yours…”

  The sun was so bright. It blinded her, and she blinked repeatedly, trying to see.

  “Oh my God…thank you, thank you! Hi Angel…I’ve missed you…”

  She looked up at the tall man leaning over her. It was the knight from the battle! She’d found him! He leaned down and kissed her forehead, tears glistening in his pretty chocolatey eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but something was stuck in her throat, and all that came out was a whimpering sound.

  Somebody was yelling, something about how she was awake. And pandemonium struck the room. Women in funny outfits and kind voices came in and pulled the knight away from her. She couldn’t see him, and panic struck her.

  She tried to move, to get to where he was but they held her down, telling her not to struggle. But he was speaking again, telling her not to be afraid.

  And she wasn’t.

  J une third.

  Angela fingered the rings on the finger of her left hand, the man she knew was her husband holding her other hand as he told her the things she had missed.

  Spring. She’d missed spring and the lilacs on her farm, but the fields were full of daisies. He kept calling it her farm.

  She’d missed her sister’s graduation. By a day. After graduation, Cassie had come in her cap and gown, so their mother could take pictures of the sisters.

  Had she missed his birthday? Hadn’t he told her once? She didn’t remember, just that she’d promised to remember it. And she didn’t.

  Memories tormented her. Mixed images she didn’t understand bombarded her. A black SUV crashing into them, her screams as she tumbled around the van. Had she flown into the windshield? Blood was streaming down her face as a woman in a uniform drug her out of the van. A man…someone named Derek had ripped at her dress, tearing it and touching her in ways she didn’t like. A red-haired man…Everett Crane? Why did she think he was somehow her father? He wasn’t. But he’d been there, holding her body after a bullet had bit into her shoulder. He’d been crying.