Wish Me Tomorrow

by Karen Rock

  Holistic healing. Mind, body and spirit. She unlocked the door, smiling to herself. Eli was in for Christie’s version of all three.

  CHAPTER TEN

  WAKING FROM THE nightmare the next morning was like clawing her way out of a grave. The clumped dirt of it seemed to cling to Christie as she struggled to pull free.

  “Christie!” A gentle hand tapped her cheek, making her eyes flutter open. Her roommate’s refined features swam into view. “You’re having a nightmare.”

  She sat up, her lungs burning. It’d felt so real. The suffocation, the crushing pressure, the sheer terror of being buried alive.

  “Have a drink.” Laura handed Christie a napkin-wrapped glass of water and perched on the edge of her double bed. Laura’s streaked blond waves were arranged in a messy knot above her head, her contrasting dark eyebrows winged over her aquiline nose.

  “Thanks,” Christie choked out, the liquid spilling a bit as she brought it to her trembling mouth.

  Cool morning air poured through an open window, making her shiver but clearing away the last clinging tendrils of the dream. She stared down at her hands, wondering why they looked spotless when the grimy sensation of fresh dirt lingered.

  “Are you okay?” Laura stood and cinched the red satin robe her parents had bought her for Christmas.

  Christie nodded and moved to sit in the rocking chair beneath her doll shelf. “Yeah. I just need a minute. Sorry for waking you.”

  “That’s what friends are for, right? Ruining your beauty sleep?” Laura gave her a long, considering look, before her generous mouth quirked, displaying small dimples that everyone, including their besotted landlord, found irresistible.

  Laura dodged the small pillow Christie halfheartedly chucked her way and moved past the screens that separated the sleep space from the rest of the loft. “I’ll start the coffee,” she called.

  Christie gulped more water and glanced at her bed. It was a rumpled mess, the sheets and blanket a tangled ball from her tossing and turning. On a nightstand, a box that contained pictures of her family remained where she’d left it before falling sleep.

  Sweat cooled on her body, her sleep shirt clinging to her. Why had this nightmare returned after a seven-year hiatus? She’d thought she left it behind in Kansas. But it looked as though she’d run out of escape routes.

  “Hazelnut okay?” called her roommate from the kitchen area.

  She stood and began rummaging through their joint clean-clothes pile for a running outfit. “Perfect.”

  “Better get a move on for your hot date!” Laura’s laughter floated over the partition. “And don’t wear your usual. Borrow one of my yoga outfits. Way cuter.”

  Christie bent to pick up a top but spotted a snapshot lying on the wooden floor. Staring back at her was her brother’s Huck Finn face, his gap-toothed smile wide as he held up a catfish he’d caught at Rattlesnake Creek. Had she been looking at it when she’d drifted off?

  The picture was taken on his tenth birthday, she recalled with a faint smile, her shaking fingers smoothing the cowlick that sprang from his freckled forehead. Her father had declared his fish the catch of the day by almost ten ounces, handily beating her entry in the ongoing competition that had been their childhood. Since they were only eighteen months apart, it had been a fierce, closely matched battle.

  She laid the picture on top of a chess piece inside the carved wooden box passed down from her mother. After placing the box inside her drawer, her hand hovered, unable to shut it away.

  “Hey! Sleeping Beauty. Chop-chop.”

  The gurgling sound of their coffee maker echoed in the narrow, vaulted space. The brew’s sweet, nutty scent spurred Christie into yanking on one of Laura’s coordinated, yet clinging, outfits. She glanced at the clock—5:30. If she hurried, she’d have enough time to get her caffeine fix and dash to Eli’s for their 6:00 a.m. run.

  “You realize you’re going to get more construction-worker attention in that outfit than a mouse in a snake pit,” Laura warned as Christie wandered into their galley kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. She cast a glance at herself in the freestanding oval mirror across the room and gasped. Her lean legs stretched on forever in black spandex, an inch of flat stomach exposed by the short, pink tank.

  Laura snatched her back as she hurried to change.

  “Uh-uh. You’ll be late. And since this is the first real date you’ve had in, like, forever, I’m not letting you mess this up. Besides, you look gorgeous.”

  Christie tugged at the top and gave in. “Fine. But I feel ridiculous in this.” She stepped past her friend’s slender form and did her best to avoid treading on her electric-blue-painted toenails.

  “Hey. That’s my favorite outfit you’re insulting.” Laura handed Christie the half-and-half and some packets of sweetener. “And it’s my lucky one at that.”

  Christie added the cream and sweetener then stirred, the spoon clanging against the sides of the cup. She wiped the container with a hand wipe for her compulsive roommate’s sake...a quirk she accepted and loved about Laura just as her friend helped her through her anxieties.

  Raising her mug, she quirked an eyebrow. “Didn’t the gym owner ask you out the day you wore it?”

  Laura leaned her elbow on their taupe countertop and cupped her chin, a faraway look in her hazel eyes. “Yep. That’s why my membership’s free.” She pointed to the outfit. “See. It’s lucky.”

  Christie gulped the warm drink, energy coursing through her with every swallow. “Sorry again about waking you.” In a space a smidgen below seven-hundred-and-fifty square feet, every squeak, crack and bang was easily overheard, let alone a girl in the throes of a nightmare. Too bad the whirring window fan set in their faded brick wall hadn’t masked the noise and let Laura sleep. She’d been out late last night at a cousin’s cotillion.

  “Are you kidding? I was so determined that you’d make your date I was already up.” She rubbed her temples. “Plus, the champagne toast gave me a headache.”

  Christie eyed her sympathetically as Laura pulled open the fridge then came back with a frown. “We’re out again.”

  “It’s not a date.” She pulled her hair into a high ponytail then pointed her spoon at Laura. “And what are we out of? And don’t say pickles. I’m cutting you off.”

  Laura made a face at her. “Everything.”

  The girls sighed, their usual sound for all things blamed on their relentless lack of funds at the end of every month.

  “How about I get some bagels on the way back?”

  Laura peered into an empty cupboard and drained her coffee. “Murray’s?” She rinsed out the chipped porcelain mug handed down from her eccentric aunt...the relative also responsible for their pink, diamond-patterned settee, elephant table lamps and the cherub-encrusted, gilt oval mirror. Eclectic chic was how Laura described it to their friends, although she wasn’t nearly so kind when privately complaining about their clashing decor.

  Christie nodded. Murray’s was on the route. “An everything bagel with veggie cream cheese?”

  “Sure.” Laura rubbed her eyes, smudging leftover periwinkle eye makeup. “I wish you’d come with me last night. I could have used the support. All I heard from my uptown cousins was, ‘So, when are you going to get a real job?’” She straightened a crooked potholder above their oven. “Can you imagine? Guess working as a public-school psychologist isn’t good enough.”

  Christie gave her a hug. Not wanting to carry anything extra, she left her giant key ring behind and grabbed their spare key from the smallest in a set of Russian-nesting-doll counter jars—compliments of Laura’s aunt. Then she headed to the door, leash in hand. “I’ll go next time.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.” Laura looked up at their vaulted, exposed-beam ceiling. “Fingers crossed that my next family event isn’t on a
home-shopping night. Wouldn’t want you to lose out on some limited collection thing they’ve only made a million of. Lord knows we could always use another doll around here.”

  “Hey, at least I pay the rent.” Their laughter rang in the echoing, open space. Laura was notorious for running behind on the payment due to her insistence on splitting the bill for her weekly Four Seasons mother–daughter lunches and treating her students to surprise presents at work. She called them behavior incentives. Christie called them rent blockers, but she understood her roommate’s big heart and wouldn’t have her any other way.

  “And don’t bring Marie Osmond into this,” Christie warned. “It’s sacrilegious.”

  The force of Laura’s eye roll loosened a false eyelash, making it droop from the corner of her eye like a black teardrop. Yet despite the smeared makeup and mussed bed head, Christie had to admit her roommate still looked beautiful. She knew Laura’s colleagues wondered, even to her face, why she hadn’t gone into modeling. Only Christie, who witnessed her roommate’s razor-sharp wit the most, knew that her intellect easily eclipsed her appearance.

  “Whatev.” Laura yawned and placed the cup beside a matching one in the drying rack. “I think I’ll go back to bed.”

  “Were you ever in it?” Christie cupped her hands around her mouth. “Angel! Here, girl!”

  A scrambling, scratching sound erupted from the rear of their apartment. In seconds, a waist-high German shepherd bounded toward her, a trotting Sweet Pea hot on her heels. Both skidded to a halt at the door, Sweet Pea’s little tail sweeping the floor while Angel’s beat the crisp morning air.

  Christie clicked the metal clasp on Angel’s collar and gave Sweet Pea a neck rub.

  “Sorry, little one. But you know you can’t keep up.”

  “Here, Sweet Pea,” Laura called. “Treat!”

  At the magic word, her dog scampered away. Good thing Laura kept a bedside stash.

  “Come on, girl.” Christie unlocked the three dead bolts and swept open the chain. In the hallway, her arms strained to keep Angel from pulling her off her feet as she turned the key in a lock before stuffing it back in her wristband’s pocket and heading downstairs.

  Fifteen minutes into her run, she yanked Angel back from a hand-holding couple. Her heart swelled, imagining Eli by her side that way.

  A long breath poured from her mouth, a sigh more than an exhale. Like it or not, her gran was right. She was lonely. Running with Eli would be a low-pressure way to get to know him, to discover her real feelings for him without risking too much of her heart. A few more minutes and they’d reach Eli’s home. Her heart jumped. Would he be waiting?

  Funny, as thoughts of Eli crowded her head, the day didn’t feel low-pressure at all....

  * * *

  AND HE WAS WAITING. Her speeding pulse pounded at the sight of his tall, muscular form atop his landing. She’d seen plenty of fit men in her life, yet never before had she fully appreciated ripped lines, sharp angles and powerful ridges. As he faced the opposite direction, she let herself drink in his toned, masculine beauty, the sight leaving her more breathless than the run. He wore black jogging shorts that exposed heavily corded thighs and calves and a long pink scar visible on one leg that made him look more warrior-like. A fitted gray sleeveless shirt left his broad shoulders bare, his biceps flexing as he stretched his arms overhead.

  Angel chose that moment to sniff a fire hydrant, nearly yanking her off her feet.

  “Christie!” she heard him shout. So much for a smooth Baywatch slo-mo approach. Then again, this was far more typical. She had to laugh.

  “Guilty.” She returned his smile as Angel and Scout bumped noses, sniffed personal areas and otherwise seemed to become fast friends, their circling bringing Eli alarmingly close. Her hands rested on his hard chest as she attempted to free herself. It didn’t help that his clean, soapy smell and tangy cologne turned her fingers into thumbs.

  “You two lovebirds getting out of the way or what?” grumped an old man carrying a sack of what smelled like cinnamon buns.

  Eli smoothly sidestepped the snarled leashes and pulled her aside.

  “Lovebirds,” she repeated with a forced laugh, hyperaware of the large hand spanning her waist. When she looked up at Eli, his face was serious, considering and intent. His eyes were the cloudless blue of a bright, sunny day.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve done this,” said Eli, his voice husky enough to make her wonder if he meant more than the run. He brought Scout to heel.

  “Don’t worry.” She wrestled with Angel and got her into a sitting position. If only Laura had let her take the dog to obedience school. She reminded herself to work with the dog at home. “It’ll come back to you.”

  His piercing eyes left her breathless when he said, “I hope so.”

  And with that, they were off, jogging block after block, their pace easy enough to allow for conversation about therapy with Joan, Tommy’s cold, and Becca’s mysterious caller and her decision not to dance. More and more shops opened as they whizzed by, the dogs competing for the alpha spot. Thirty minutes in, Eli pulled up beside a bakery. Murray’s. Christie blinked at him in surprise. Had she mentioned she needed to stop here?

  “They make the best bagels. Would you like some? It’s my treat.” His impish grin made him resemble the young farm boy she imagined riding on the red tractor in his living-room picture.

  Belatedly, she remembered the money she’d left on the kitchen counter.

  “That would be great. Except I promised my roommate one. Would you mind getting her one, too? I’ll pay you back.”

  When Eli smiled a bit too smugly for her taste, she gave him her order and hooked the dogs to a pole holding up the shop’s awning. She sat at a small, white plastic table and contemplated the brown stain at its center. Laura would freak if she saw it and proclaim it swimming in E. coli.

  A minute later, Eli’s shadow fell across her. “One salt bagel with strawberry cream cheese and an everything with veggie cream cheese to go.” He handed her the bag with a flourish and sat down, passing her a bottle of water, as well.

  She sighed. Eli was always considerate. She chewed her salty-sweet breakfast and watched him as he fed bits of his egg sandwich to the begging dogs. In fact, he was so much more than considerate.

  He was everything—and she couldn’t deny it any longer. She’d seen the way his gait hitched the last fifteen minutes of their run, how he’d shaken his head when she’d asked if he’d like to stop and had run faster instead. No wonder he’d won marathons. He was no quitter.

  “Good thing I bought two.” Eli looked up at her, his eyes dancing as he bent over and divided the last piece between the dogs. He settled back in his seat, pulled another bagel from his bag and took a large bite.

  She marveled at his exuberance. When she’d first met him he’d seemed so negative. Later, she’d come to appreciate his protective, caring way with his family and the lengths to which he would go to help them.

  Now she saw Eli for himself. Free to spend time with her without any agenda. And it was heady stuff. His wolfish grin as he chomped away at his meal was more intoxicating than a Sunday afternoon with her gran.

  Speaking of which...how would she keep this from her information hound of a grandparent? It’d been hard enough to convince her that Christie was only helping with Eli’s children. Yet here she was on a second mini-date with Eli, no children in sight.

  “You’ve hardly touched your bagel. Do you want something else?” His low bass snapped her out of her trance. She looked away. Had she been staring at him the entire time? How humiliating. Here he was, willing to go along with her suggestions for the betterment of his family, and she was indulging in girlish, romantic fantasies. She could practically feel her degree going up in flames.

  “It’s fine, thank you. I was just thinking—” Thin
king? Thinking what? Her mind searched for an answer but hit a blank wall instead. “How long has it been since you went running?”

  She grabbed her water bottle but knocked it over instead, her mind distracted by her pushy question and Eli’s sudden quiet. “The only reason I ask is that Becca mentioned it has been a long time for you,” she continued in a rush. His large hands joined hers in mopping up the mess.

  “A year and a half,” he said, breaking the awkward hush and forestalling her from more humiliating babble.

  She watched him unconsciously rub his scarred calf. “Are you feeling okay?” she asked then winced. Curse that ingrained nursing training. Was this a date or checkup? Then again, maybe it was a little bit of both.

  His handsome face, flushed from the run, looked thoughtful for a moment then relaxed into a small smile. “Better than I’ve felt in a long time. Joan suggested I take it up but I didn’t follow through. I forgot how much I enjoyed it.”

  As he said the last part, his intense eyes found hers, the heat in them making her face warm once more. She’d enjoyed their time together, too. Their proximity had been as exhilarating as their conversation.

  “How long was your rehabilitation?” Christie pointed to his marked calf.

  “About six months after my titanium-rod insert.” He stretched out his leg. “I’ve spent so much time increasing my design-business client base that I neglected building up my stamina. I’ve been running up my stairs instead of taking the elevator lately.”

  He sent her a significant look, one she couldn’t decipher. “Thank you,” she said when he passed her his unopened water bottle and unscrewed the cap. When she slid it back, she could feel his eyes on her like a warm glow. Being looked at by Eli was like standing in the sun.

  Since he seemed fine with her inquisition, she indulged her curiosity. This was all about getting to know him, right? No pressure. “So tell me more about your business. You said you design book covers and things.”