by CK Dawn
“Lucy love, you need to tell your parents about us,” the voice whispered in my ear.
I sighed leaning into the warm embrace of the man who whispered in my ear. My eyes were closed, but I could feel the warmth and hear crackling of a fire. It was so peaceful.
“My parents,” I mumbled with a frown on my face more to myself than him, “I will tell them soon,” I told him.
“You have been saying that for months,” he said pulling away from me.
I turned to look at him and gave him a pleading look while looking into his melancholy green eyes. His handsome face was pained, his eyes tired and lips drawn into an uncharacteristic frown that was usually either smirking mischievously or showing his beautiful white teeth in a full smile.
“I will, I promise,” I whispered and leaned up to press my lips to his.
He turned his face away from me.
I pouted about being put off by his denial of my affection. Frowning, it was complicated and he didn’t seem to understand. My family would not be pleased about me seeing James. Especially my father whose title makes him think that he is above everyone but the King. He would not approve of his only daughter being involved with or even thinking of marrying a commoner. Least of all one with no money or title. I loved James, but it would be nearly impossible to get my family to come around. It would cause a scandal and it would have to be handled delicately. Why can’t my sweet precious James understand that?
Standing I sighed.
“James, I will heed your words and come up with a plan to tell them,” I told him.
Glancing around the sparsely decorated cottage, I smiled softly when I looked at the desk he would sit at and write. It warmed my heart, his poetry was beautiful. I always felt light as a cloud when he would read to me.
He just nodded, and I knew my sweet sensitive man had withdrawn into himself and wouldn’t be coming back out for a while.
“I’ll be back,” I whispered.
He nodded.
I stepped outside making sure no one saw me and started down the street in the direction of the carriage that would be taking me back to the family estate. It was not far from the town. However, my mother would not be thrilled since it was already dark out, but she would understand when I told her that Miss. Elizabeth my older lonely friend was feeling ill and needed my help. Miss. Elizabeth was my secret made up friend. I made her up so that I could go see James without any trouble.
It had been nearly a year since we had met in the village when he was reading a book under a tree and had caught me watching him.
“Home,” I said as my driver helped me into the carriage.
“How is Miss. Elizabeth?” Albert asked as he was about to shut the door.
“Not well,” I said frowning as I thought of the man I left sitting listlessly staring into nothingness.
There was no more conversation after that as the horses hooves beat on the dirt road to my family home out of town.
I was staring out of the window watching the moon cast shadows of the trees in the darkness when Albert broke through my thoughts about what was going to happen to my relationship with James after my parents found out.
“Stay here,” he said as he abruptly brought the carriage to a stop.
Gripping the satin fabric of my dress, I watched the commotion ahead of us. One of the stablemen was running in our direction shouting something to Albert that I could not understand. Albert rushed back to the carriage, with the man I could now identify as Peter.
They were mumbling something about a fire and getting the lady to an inn.
“What’s going on?” I finally asked as they were attempting to turn the carriage around.
“Miss,” Peter said his chest still heaving from his run and trying to catch his breath, “fire has consumed the main house.”
“What?” I panicked the wind knocked out of me in horrible surprise, “we must go to the house.”
“No miss,” Albert said, “we are going to get more help and take you to an inn where you will be safe.”
“My parents?” I asked knowing that the two large men could stop me from running to the house, “we have to help them.”
“We don’t know yet,” he said sympathetically.
Ignoring him I left the carriage and began running down the road toward the house.
“Mother, Father,” I yelled over and over again as tears streamed down my face.
They were nowhere to be found and the house was consumed.
Albert finally got me back to the carriage while Peter was getting help. He said he was going to take me to an inn where it was safe for me.
In the town, they alerted the police and the firemen who went back to the house with Peter. My emotions were a flurry as Albert checked me into the inn nearest the station and left for the house as soon as a housemaid started escorting me to a room. He promised to return with news as soon as he could.
Inside of the room I sat on a ruby red velvet chaise and buried my face into a pillow and started to cry from the stress of the night. I cried tears for my love, tears for me and tears for the unknown trouble at home.
Abruptly I woke up from the vivid dream with heavy breathing due to Lucy’s crying. The dreams were always so real and it always took a few minutes to recover from them whether they were good or bad. However, the dreams were mostly bad.
Catching my breath, I reached up and wiped the wetness from my face. Tears were always the realist part of waking up afterwards. I sat up and I stared at my reflection in the mirror of my big oak dresser that was crowded with makeup and hair tools.
“James?” I said out loud testing the name on my tongue.
Those green eyes. So vivid, so familiar.
He is the boy I saw earlier. That was why he seemed so familiar. I had been dreaming about him for over a year now.
He may not look exactly the same, but it was him. I reached for my journal that the doctor insist I keep, and started writing down everything I could remember about the dream and the boy I had bumped into outside of her office. By the time, I finished it was past two in the morning and I started plotting a trip into the city to see if he might go to the coffee shop again.
Two
After school the next it was easy to ditch Arianna since she had detention for excessive tardies. Often I found myself chastising her for being late to class. It was a Friday afternoon so parking was hard to come by near the coffee shop I had watched him go into.
Instead, after circling the block with no luck I had to settle for one of those paid parking garages a couple of blocks away. The kind where you hoped they ran background checks on all of the employees because they looked as shady as the shadows cast around the darkened garage floors.
Upon reaching the coffee shop, I took a deep breath in anticipation. Would I even speak to him? I asked myself as I entered. Maybe I would be able to watch without being noticed.
Inside the warm wonderful smell of coffee almost knocked me over. Relief also flooded over me when I found that even though the sidewalk outside was bustling with people that the coffee shop was nearly empty. There was only a bored looking barista wiping a counter and a few middle aged businessmen pounding away on their laptops. It seemed I had beaten the after school crowd.
As I made my way to the counter to give my order to the barista, the door opened behind me causing me to hold my breath in anticipation.
Disappointment and both relief sat in as a couple of giggling girls around my age entered and got in line behind me to place their orders.
With my order finally in hand I sat in the back of the shop where I still had a view of the door in a cushy mocha colored armchair.
Slouched down in the chair I pulled a book out of my tote bag. It was a worn version of Dickens’ “Great Expectations,” that my mother had collected when she was young. I had previously read it with my mother when I was younger but needed to read it again for an English class at school. Reading old books like it always reminded me of the time I h
ad spent with my mother at old book stores and libraries before the accident. It’s what we did together, read and shop for books.
For the first thirty or so minutes every time the door opened I looked up to see if it was him coming into the coffee shop.
It never was him, so I just focused on the book.
“Dickens, huh?” A voice startled me out of the world of Pip.
I looked up to find James from my dreams who was also the boy who knocked me over on the sidewalk the day before sitting in the armchair across from me. I just stared at him dumbfounded unsure of what to say. It was definitely him just not exactly the same. His hair was dark brown and instead of the Victorian clothing from my dream he wore a pair of black skinny jeans that accentuated his slender legs, a grey t-shirt and a pair of black Converse sneakers that had seen better days.
“Huh?” Was the only thing I could get out of my mouth.
He had a coffee in his left hand and I could see traces of paint that hadn’t been washed off properly on both of his hands. He smirked and it instantly reminded me of the way Ella thought of her James when he wasn’t upset, “I said something about your book.”
“Oh,” I said, “reading for class,” I explained closing the book and placing it on my lap.
We just stared awkwardly at each other for a few moments before he cleared his throat, “well sorry again for knocking you over yesterday,” he said and rose from his seat.
I panicked as he started walking away, “wait,” I shouted louder than I intended.
My outburst caught the attention of nearly everyone in the coffee shop that was considerably fuller than it was when I had walked in. I couldn’t let him get away without asking about the dreams. Even if he thought I was crazy and wouldn’t be able to show my face around the area again.
He stopped mid-stride his back rigid. Did he know what I was about to say?
Turning around slowly he walked back to the seat across from me and sat back down, “yes?” he said after I didn’t immediately say anything.
Swallowing I quickly glanced around to make sure that no one might be listening. It wouldn’t do to have more people thinking that I was a lunatic. “I dreamed about you last night,” I blurted out.
He looked at me like I had grown two heads and then burst out laughing.
Embarrassed, I recovered, “I mean before last night before I met you yesterday on the sidewalk.”
He raised an eyebrow at me, and I hoped that he wouldn’t run when he heard what else I had to say.
“It wasn’t you,” I explained and looked down at the dark wood floor of the shop, “not like you are now, but it was you. Your name in my dream last night was James, it is always something different though,” I explained and I glanced up from the floor and looked at him, “what is your name?”
“Liam,” he replied quietly.
“I know I seem crazy, but these dreams are so real to me.”
Liam continued to frown at me as I spoke, but I started to tell him about my dream from the night before anyway. Every single detail I could remember without pulling out the journal that I kept in my bag. As I told him about the lovers in the cottage, the carriage ride, learning about the fire and finally the tears that Ella cried and the real ones that I woke up to staining my face.
The entire time I spoke he kept a straight face occasionally consuming a drink of whatever beverage was in his cup. When I was finished, he looked at me as if he were searching for something to say but there was still no outward reaction from him over what I had told him.
I was frustrated and I wanted a reaction from him.
“Amelia,” I said supplying my name to him.
“Amelia,” he said uncertainly, “that was an interesting story,” he paused and took a breath.
I had no idea what that meant, but that was the only reaction that I had gotten from him.
“Maybe with that kind of imagination you should write a book or something.”
Flabbergasted at his dismissal of my story I just stared at him mouth open unable to say or do anything. I was sure there was something to my dreams. I was positive.
“I have to go,” he said as he rose from his seat, “I really think you should keep your dreams to yourself,” he said quietly as if giving me some sort of important advice before walking to the exit of the coffee shop.
“But wait there's more,” I said loud enough for him to hear and I reached for my bag about to pull out my journal that had a whole year's worth of dreams written within in its pages.
All I received in return was a wave of dismissal over his shoulder as he walked out of the door.
Great, he thinks I’m crazy.
Upset that the encounter didn’t go as planned I picked up my half empty drink stuffed my book into my bag and quickly exited the coffee shop before I could embarrass myself more.
I glanced at my phone to check the time and it was nearly five o’clock, I briefly wondered if I could catch Dr. Griffin leaving her office. If I saw her, I could tell her the whole story about my dream and the meeting with Liam in the coffee shop.
I stopped, surely that wasn’t what she had in mind when she told me to talk about my dreams. But I was determined to see if she would speak with me. My resolve set I turned in the direction of her office.
When I arrived at my psychiatrist’s office, I stopped in my tracks. Dr. Griffin was standing next to an expensive grey sedan talking to Liam. Immediately I ducked inside of an alley, and hoped that they wouldn’t see me.
When I had spoken to him, he had seemed indifferent, but now he was speaking to Dr. Griffin very animatedly. He was obviously upset about something.
I was frustrated that I wasn’t close enough to hear what was being said. The doctor listened to him either nodding or shaking her head causing her grey shoulder length hair to move.
She started talking to him with a soft expression on her normally stern face and he just nodded along with her his shoulders becoming less rigid with every word that she spoke. She opened her car door and seemed to be saying goodbye as she got into the car. With her in the car he started walking in the direction of the coffee shop.
Quickly I went further into the alley and hoped that he didn’t see me.
I felt like such a stalker.
I froze in place when I bumped into a soft but solid object. Hastily I turned around slowly and found a twenty-something looking man in a sleek solid black suit, dress shirt included.
His expression was a cross between disgust and malice, which showed mostly in the sneer on his lips because his eyes could not be seen behind his black as night sunglasses.
“Umm sorry,” I said slowly backing toward the entrance of the alley.
This guy was a threat, my instincts were screaming it. I didn’t care if Liam discovered me in my hiding spot. I would welcome it.
I could die of embarrassment later, after I got out of this.
“You have been talking,” he said in a stiff monotone that was so cold it caused my blood to run cold.
“I’m sorry,” I replied genuinely confused still backing down the alley, “about what?”
“You have to be silenced,” he said and I noticed the big, sleek and shiny black handled knife in his hand for the first time.
Like a deer in headlights, I couldn’t move or say anything. All that was going through my head was my impending death in this smelly trash filled alley.
A teacher, Mr. Jones an angry old man that I didn’t get along with once told me that this was how I would meet my end. His vision of my death probably pictured drugs and maybe even prostitution. The mean old teacher just didn’t like that I was opinionated. He certainly didn’t picture a man dressed in a business suit stabbing me for talking of all things. Or he probably did, before the deaths of my parents I talked a lot. That teacher had hated giving me an A in that history class.
The memory caused me to gain my wits and I screamed hoping that anyone out on the sidewalk would hear and with luck come to my rescue.
My screaming surprised him, and he stopped his advance.
He looked over my shoulder to gauge whether or not someone was coming to save me. When he decided that no one was coming, he raised the knife again.
Aware of the immediate danger and that the man in black was probably going to stab me to death, I screamed again and turned to run. I was deeper into the alley than I had realized.
But I wasn’t fast enough, and he grabbed me by my ponytail.
I swore when I fell onto the ground that it would be the last time I was going to be too lazy to fix my hair. I was frozen in place with my eyes clenched tightly closed waiting for the first thrust of the knife.
He was saying something in a language I couldn’t understand and then suddenly stopped.
Bravely I opened my eyes and found my suit wearing attacker looking up at the entrance of the alley.
“Really, Jonah?” a somewhat familiar voice questioned, “she knows nothing, she thinks she’s crazy.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Jonah my would be murderer said, “I’ll take care of her and then you once and for all.”
Relieved that I wasn’t alone I gained some courage and used Jonah’s position knelt over me to my advantage. I brought one of my slender legs up and kicked him where it hurts a man the most. As soon as he let out an audible grunt I rolled over and stood as fast as I could. Surprise consumed me again as I discovered Liam at the end of the alley holding a broken piece of board from one of the many broken pallets lying around the alley.
He didn’t even acknowledge me as he strode past me in pursuit of Jonah.
I turned to see Liam knock Jonah in the head with the board much like a baseball player hits a fastball. An ugly crunch sounded through the alley and couldn’t help but to physically cringe at what I saw and heard.
Going down faster than I thought he would, Jonah hit the ground sprawling out holding onto his now bloody and mangled face. His hair style that was straight out of the 1950s did not move a centimeter. He was mumbling incoherently in the same tongue he had been reciting when he had been about to stab me with his knife.
