by M. C. Cerny
DREAM CATCHER
A WOODLAND CREEK NOVEL
M.C. CERNY
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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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 the above copyright owner of this book.
Copyright © 2015
Edited by: Emily A. Lawrence
Cover Design by: J.M Rising Horse Creations
Stock Photo from: www.123rf.com #15865456
Formatting by: M.C. Cerny
ISBN-13:
ISBN-10:
First Edition:
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Cerny, M.C.
Dream Catcher/M.C. Cerny – 1st ed.
Woodland Creek Series.
30 Authors. 30 Shifter Stories.
http://woodlandcreekseries.com
~ DREAM CATCHER ~
Happenstance brought Kerri Harper to Woodland Creek, but will she stay for the wolf intent on mending her broken heart?
Chapter One
*
KERRI
“Holy shit, duck for cover!”
Letting out a pained sigh, I crouched down behind the upended sofa inside my boyfriend’s condo. A neon orange Nerf ball dart whizzed overhead and suctioned itself onto a picture frame. The cheap plastic encased print of an Ansel Adams photograph crashed to the floor. I had kind of liked that picture. After finding it on sale at Home Goods, I’d bought it in an effort to make this bachelor pad a home.
“Fuck yeah!”
Wincing, I had been waiting out the unruly terror that was Carter Milton Sexton for the better part of the last half hour. His language was enough to make a nun blush. Whitney Houston’s voice sang back in my mind about how children are our future. If this was our future then we should all be terrified.
It wasn’t that Carter was a bad kid. He just had terrible role models for parents, who believed zero discipline equated to unconditional love. I came into Carter’s life as his babysitter when I started dating his dad before I attended Michigan University for my teaching degree. I stayed thinking I could fix things as we fell into a comfortable routine…I attempted to bring consistency and boundaries, but they were viewed as unwelcomed efforts, easily dismissed.
“God damn it, Kerri! Are you watching him?” Dillon slammed the door and I knew the scene before him didn’t exactly scream responsible caretaker. I had tried, I really did. Spaghetti and meatballs looked like a grotesque nuclear explosion all over the wall in the dining room. Noodle worms creeped down the wall and landed in a messy plop on the parquet flooring, looking more like zombie guts. Toy superheroes were scattered like a fallout of Syrian refugees, broken pieces and forgotten.
The upended couch presently kept me hidden from view, where I tried to mold myself smaller against its dark brown leather. Squeezing my eyes shut praying I was invisible, Dillon yelled louder. “Get your fat ass out here and clean this up.” I guess it didn’t hide me nearly as well as I hoped.
Crab walking, I climbed out from behind the couch looking no better from a direct hit of spaghetti to the chest. “I’m sorry, Dillon.” I tried pulling my shirt down to remove the food splattered wrinkles to no avail, continuing my explanation. “We were playing and Carter got carried away when I told him it was time to clean up.” Shrugging, there wasn’t much I could say in my defense. The kid was a handful even on his best days.
“Daddy, she yelled at me.” What? Oh, hell no, kid. I could tolerate a lot, but lies were not one of them.
Dumping his computer case on the side table, Dillon gave the situation a once-over. “Seriously, Kerri? He’s eight. He doesn’t know better.” Of course Carter didn’t know any better because the little shit got away with murder. Disappointment radiated off Dillon and his son stood behind him. Carter was a mini version of his father in looks and mannerisms, hands on his hips and ready to say something smart assed just to prove something.
Blowing out a breath, I started anew. “Carter, that’s a lie and you know it. Dillon, when have I ever yelled at your son?” Nothing but a blank stare passed between father and son as my cheeks grew hot under the false accusations and my voice wavered, losing its steam.
“Excuses, Kerri! This is exactly why you’ll never get a job as a teacher. Carter, go and change your clothes so we can go out.”
“Sure thing, Daddy.” The kid practically bounced past me with glee.
Clenching my fists, I ground out, “Well, if I weren’t here all the time helping you out and maybe if you actually backed me up disciplining your son once in a while…” The last part was mumbled under my breath as I watched Dillon jingle his keys ignoring me. His dismissal hurt.
“God, I wouldn’t leave a cat with you and they can take care of themselves.” Now that stung. We didn’t even have a cat, but if he’d thought about getting one it was obvious no one was interested in my opinion. Visions of a devious Carter strapping a firecracker to its back to see if it would fly like in Toy Story worried me. I hoped we weren’t getting a cat…
“You’re being really unfair, Dillon.” I was sick of being treated this way. I’d worked hard to graduate from the University of Michigan with my early childhood education degree and teaching certification. I applied to every school in the district for a job and was waiting to hear back from the two graduate schools I’d applied to for my master’s program if a job didn’t pan out for September.
“What’s unfair is being dumped with a kid when his mother can’t keep the crack out of her nose for a hot minute.” I’d never seen Dillon this angry or stressed before. Maybe it was work? Maybe it was my inability to financially contribute? I wasn’t the problematic ex-girlfriend in and out of rehab…just the present girlfriend, who apparently did nothing right.
My injured feelings got the best of me when I snapped angrily, hissing, “Well, then maybe you should have thought twice before sticking your dick in it.” We were interrupted by the monster child, who sported a wide grin and clean clothes, although his shirt was on inside out. Carter had no care in the world and I hated myself for what I said to his dad. I hated that the grownups here couldn’t get their shit together for this kid, who had a sweet side to him about half the time when he wasn’t planning world domination.
“Daddy!” Carter launched himself over the sad looking sheet fort into Dillon’s arms.
“There’s my boy, all nice and cleaned up.” The two hugged affectionately, leaving me out of the equation.
“Can we get ice cream, pretty please?”
“You bet, little man.” They held hands the way only parents and children can, squeezing my jealous heart, making their way toward the door.
Feeling resigned, I looked for my purse and spotted it under a chair. I was sure a sweatshirt would sufficiently cover my dirty top. “Oh, hey, let me grab my purse.” Figuring we could all clean this up together when we got back and start all over again, I wanted to make things right. Maybe even talk about implementing the reward and consequences behavior chart to help Carter learn better behaviors.
“No, Kerri.” Looking up, Dillon’s face featured hard eyes. “You stay and clean up. I mean, you don’t really need the i
ce cream, do you?” Dropping my purse I’d just picked up, I started to really see Dillon. He was definitely angry with me and shaking his head. “We’ll be back later, here’s the mail.” Tossing the envelopes on the side table, the only piece of furniture still standing after his son ripped through the condo like a tornado, he tugged his son out the door.
“No. I guess not.” Sadly, I turned around as they left the condo, leaving me to the quiet buzzing of the television’s fuzzy reception and the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. There was a time Dillon appreciated my curves, but now all he did was complain. I had thought I’d put the freshman fifteen on temporarily, until I went to the doctor last year. I ended up having a horde of other medical issues…
Dillon was sympathetic at first, until the weight became twenty, thirty, and then forty pounds, rounding me out. I did every yo-yo diet imaginable. The weight never seemed to stay off. It was my thyroid acting improperly, and the period pains I’d always had revealed to be endometriosis…
Depression followed when I learned of my potential infertility. It was a snowstorm of emotional bowling balls knocking me down. I wasn’t looking to have a baby right away. For God’s sake, I was only twenty-two, but the prospect of probably never having one…well, it didn’t help my need to make things work with Dillon and Carter.
I supposed I saw Dillon’s son as an easy chance to be a parent. A ready-made family…I knew better than anyone else it was only a matter of time before that kid’s mother cleaned herself up and came back. I was a poor substitute and it showed in her eyes at every supervised visitation we took Carter to see her. She hungered for the love of her son and promised to get clean from the addiction. I was just the free babysitter.
Temporary.
The depression lurked like a dark specter ready to swallow me up when Dillon came back with a sticky sweet and sleepy Carter for me to put to bed. I was the ultimate sucker and they were my family. I’d cleaned the condo top to bottom, but how long that would last only God knew.
He looked around seemingly pleased with my housekeeping efforts this time and kissed me on the head as if nothing had happened earlier. No thank you. Nothing. I was still smarting from his backhanded comments about my career and my weight, but I let it go because that’s what I was good at. Letting things go…
He handed Carter off to me. “I’m going to head up to bed, do you mind?” Grunting, I took the sixty pounds of his biological DNA snoring over my shoulder.
Eager to have today as water under the bridge, I pretended everything was okay. “Yeah, see you up there. I have to finish up a few things here.” I turned with Carter in my arms to realize I was already speaking to no one but myself. Sighing, I looked at the boy. Drool from his mouth was soaking my T-shirt, which made him slightly more adorable than a few hours earlier. Carter smelled like marshmallow syrup and rocky road ice cream as I carried him into his bedroom. Laying him on his bed, I removed his Capitan America sneakers and tucked the devil under his Marvel character bedding.
Back in the kitchen, I sat alone, flipping over the mail. Both envelopes addressed to me were paper thin and not exactly promising. A tense feeling in my stomach settled as I ripped open the first one to Michigan University. The stark letter left my eyes burning.
Rejected.
My first pick school, my undergraduate home, and like Dillon…all things familiar. They didn’t want me, something I could relate to over and over again. No thanks, it read. Good luck with your future endeavors because we’re highly competitive and you didn’t make the cut. Those weren’t the exact flowery words, but if you’ve experienced rejection more than once you get a new appreciation for denial and emotional distance.
Disappointment kept me from opening the second one immediately. The standard envelope had a return address from Hastings-Albrecht University. A small school in Woodland Creek, Indiana, that focused mainly on science programs with a few advanced degrees, particularly their Master’s of Education degree in Science. Ever since I was little, I dreamed of making exploding volcano models with kids. The thought of science fairs for the young and innovative minds made me happy, well…minus any rocket bearing felines, of course.
Hastings-Albrecht University was a long shot and just as, if not more, competitive than Michigan University if I got accepted. The feelings threatened to swallow me whole again and on a wild whim I ripped the envelope open. Just like a Band-Aid, I forced myself to get the news over with. If I got accepted, I’d have to live on campus and work as a part of their scholars program in the local school district since I was an education major. It was by no means my safety school, but it was one that wasn’t here in Ann Arbor with the program I wanted to study.
Anxiety made my fingers shake and the ripped-up envelope mocked me. If Michigan didn’t want me, what were the odds that Hastings-Albrecht would want me? With grimness, I knew I needed to do this for myself. If I didn’t make a change, nobody else would for me. Whether I was accepted or not, I needed to separate myself from this relationship even if it came in baby steps. I nearly decimated the second envelope, getting to the letter inside with shaking, sweaty palms.
We are pleased to cordially invite you to be a part of the incoming class of 2018 for the Master’s of Education and Sciences program. Please note that this conditional offer in the Scholars Program is based on your agreement to reside on the Hastings-Albrecht University campus and undertake part-time employment in a job placement suited to your degree major...
Holy shit and duck for cover came to mind as I looked around the empty kitchen crazily to make sure it wasn’t addressed to anyone else.
Nope.
Just one Kerri Annalise Harper.
Chapter Two
“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by…” Robert Frost
KERRI
Blurred lines and gray muck smudged the dusky summer sky. “Damn it, I can’t see anything in this mess.” Squinting my eyes against the freak late August storm, I wished I remembered to grab my driving glasses from Dillon, the dickweed’s condo. Nearly seven hours on the road and so close to my destination I was drained physically and emotionally. I would bet twenty bucks Carter stashed my glasses somewhere. I palmed the dashboard’s defogger, hoping it would kick in against the hail dropping rain beating my compact car. I moved my head around to the one clear part of my windshield left, praying the rain relented. The darker it got the worse my sight became. The balled tires of my car occasionally slipped from the road’s surface, jerking my hands on the wheel, making my heart beat with uncertainty.
Two days of continual rain leading up to my leaving Ann Arbor, and all I wanted was to arrive at my destination in one piece...alive. A headache nudged my periphery from having to concentrate so hard. My fingers tapped on the steering wheel as I hummed to Ellie Goulding’s Love Me Like You Do. Sorrow filled my center with an ache that threatened to crack my chest wide open. Does anyone love me? I wasn’t sure I even loved myself after this last fight with Dillon. I was glad Carter wasn’t home to see any of it, spending time with his grandparents. What the hell was I thinking, provoking him like that? The hurtful things he said played back like vicious slices to my skin.
Rain pelted the windshield harder as my little green Honda Civic plugged through. If I had more energy, I’d probably cry over my stupidity. As it was, I needed all my strength to get through this drive on these back ass roads. I’d passed Indianapolis about an hour back off the interstate and should have been coming up to the turn off for Woodland Creek soon.
I should have listened to the weather report and better prepared myself for leaving…but as usual I wasn’t thinking when Dillon was busy yelling in my face, calling me names that now just hazed together. His favorites were fat cow, lazy stump, and the oldie but goodie...stupid worthless bitch. Once he got going I was pretty well schooled in ignoring those insults.
Why had I stayed so long? The answer was easy on my lips, but hurt my heart. I was lonely and a little broken, that was
for sure. Why hadn’t I left sooner? Most people assumed our relationship was fine because I never complained and he behaved well in public. I never gave any indication of how bad things had gotten over the past seven years of being together. I was practically his wife without any of the benefits and a stand-in mother to his son.
What would I say? He hadn’t hit me…and the emotional bruises weren’t visible to the people I needed to believe me in order for me to be strong enough to leave. My parents thought Dillon was wonderful. After all, who would date their frumpy, bookish daughter when my other three sisters were happily married or in relationships to wonderful men, living perfect little lives with perfect identical children. Dillon was apparently the answer to everyone else’s dreams. Good-looking and bright software engineer and me the little wannabe school teacher.
Dillon Sexton was fast becoming my nightmare…one that hadn’t quite manifested itself until I told him I was finally leaving to finish my education and pursue teaching full-time. His long term babysitter and girlfriend were giving notice and he was less than understanding as I dumped another box of my personal belongings into my car.
His twisted face haunted me, hurtful words, and him pulling my belongings from the car, dumping them in the driveway. It was like he snapped, behaving like an adult toddler who was finally told no.
If I can just get to Woodland Creek tonight I will be all right. The folder of admissions information lay on the passenger seat. Hastings-Albrecht University, Lupin Hall, room 34 was waiting for me. I repeated the mantra in my head, thinking how great it would be to see my sister Kourtney and her husband, Brian, along with my nieces and nephew once I got settled. They lived just two hours or so south of Woodland Creek, closer to Lexington, Kentucky.
