Between Dreams

by Cynthia Austin

  One-Eighty by Summer

  Work moved on just as any other day, perhaps a little slower since I was still seething from my earlier encounter with Chrissy. She was just so stubborn. I knew she still loved Finn. That much she admitted to me. So why wouldn’t she follow her heart and be with him? Was money that important to her that she was willing to give up the one thing she loved most? How was this selfish person my best friend?

  Perhaps she would make a 180 by the end of summer and realize how foolish she was. Hopefully Finn wouldn’t have moved on by then. They deserved to be with each other, even if Chrissy could be a shallow parasite at times.

  I considered giving my notice to Bob, accepting my last paycheck, and getting the heck out of dodge but couldn’t shake the memory of the last time I had almost quit. I was so thankful I never told Bob my plans of leaving after I ended up coming home from L.A. the first time around. I decided I would tell my boss about my plans after my shift on Thursday. So much for providing a two-week notice.

  My shift ended at four o’clock and by the time I had gotten home there was still no sign of Ray. I poked my head into the white room to check on Granny. Her old, frail body lay frozen in her bed next to the window. Tiny rays of sunlight poured in from the glass and were bathing her body in sunlight and warmth. Just then, a breeze blew in, reminding me of the last errand I had to do before leaving her.

  ***

  I stood inside the nursery gazing in front of the rows of tiny green plants. I began scanning the shelves for what I was looking for. I felt as helpless as a newborn gnu in the Serengeti.

  Finally I spotted the thick green leaves with the beautiful white flowers poking out at me. I leaned forward and inhaled, taking in the intoxicating perfume that poured out of the blossom.

  Yes, these will do perfectly, I thought as I plucked up four shrubs and brought them to the register.

  Upon returning home, I parked the truck in the garage and went to retrieve a shovel and a pair of gardening gloves. Collecting my tools, I headed straight to the small mound of dirt that lay beneath Granny’s open window. The sun was beating down and I thought about going inside and asking Nouri if I could borrow her sunhat, but on second thought, I decided against it. I didn’t want to bother her for something as inconsequential as a hat. I could withstand a few minutes of sun.

  I knelt down in the dirt and began digging four small holes while I softly sang that new Drake song. Gently taking the flowers, I held them as if they were tiny infants in need of coddling, and one by one, I began placing them in their corresponding holes. When my work was completed, I sat back and inspected my results. I was more than a little pleased. Four perfect little plants sat erect underneath Granny’s bedroom window. A gust of wind blew by and I joyfully inhaled the thick tropical scent.

  “There, Granny, now you can have a new smell blow into your window and think of me. I’m only a phone call away,” I whispered.

  It was in that moment when I heard the sound of metal dragging across the cement. I looked to my right, just in time to see the shovel being swooped up into the air. My first thought was that the ever attending nurse must have stepped outside and was now helping me to clean up.

  My eyes followed the movement and I looked up expecting to see Nouri, but the sun was in my eyes. All I could see was the dark shadow of a figure, but the figure was much taller than Nouri. Immediately I recalled my latest dream, which included my mother’s warning of danger nearby. The hairs stood straight up on my arms as an overwhelming sense of danger swept over me. Before I had time to react, I saw the head of the shovel swiftly come down and heard the loud crunching sound against the left side of my face.

  Then, everything went black.

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to express my many thanks to my editor and friend, Pat Hurley. Who would have thought that a simple conversation beginning with “I have this idea….” would turn into this entire world of Sidney Sinclair’s life? You have encouraged, taught and opened the door to my adventurous journey of writing.

  Many thanks to my Beta Reader and good friend, Margaret Potter—Thank you so much for your support, enthusiasm and your keen eye in catching some important errors that almost slipped through the cracks!

  Thank you to my loving husband, Robby, who has spent countless hours enduring the readings of the most boring essays ever written while in school. Thank you for doing it-even though I forced you to listen. Now you can be rewarded by reading my trilogy about Sidney’s life.

  Last, a big thank you to the team at Limitless Publishing for seeing the potential in my story and taking a chance on me! Thank you so much Dixie Matthews, Jessica Gunhammer and Jennifer O’Neill. This has been quite a journey and I am really excited to continue on this path with you all. Thank you to my second editor, Toni Rakestraw. The simple things, such as reminding me that one’s eye should not be described as a walnut; which is round and lumpy are very appreciative. Thank you to Ashley Byland at Redbird Designs for the amazing cover she designed for the series. Thank you to IndieSage PR and all of their many bloggers who have helped spread Between Dreams all over the internet, and a very big thank you to anyone who has taken the time to read and enjoy this story. This is truly a dream come true and none of it could have been done without each and every one of you.

  About the Author

  Cynthia Austin lives in Northern California with her husband, two boys, and Olde English Bulldogge named Count Dogula. They love all things horror, gothic, and Victorian which prompts her friends to dub them as “The Adams Family.”

  She is an avid reader who may be slightly obsessed with music. She hears music in a way that she believes the artist intended it to be heard: visually, with a storyline that follows. Listening to the songs by her favorite artists, she was inspired to write her first series titled “The Pendant.”

  Cynthia has been published twice in The Writer’s Monthly Magazine as well as the online news site, Yahoo! Voices. She currently attends Diablo Valley College, in Pleasant Hill, California, where she is working to achieve her degree in English.

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  https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/38467459-cynthia-austin