Finding Cade (Dream Catcher Series Book 1)

by Bernice Layton

  Sitting at the conference table surrounded by his medical team, Dr. Porter glanced over Nurse Nancy’s supplemental report on John Doe No. 6. She had reported on the patient's involuntary body movements but listed no external stimuli that may have caused it. “Nancy, you didn’t specify what reaction he exhibited or what could have caused it. Did you forget to include it in the record?”

  “Ah, well, no, Dr. Porter. I included that information. It’s on the second page there.”

  Dr. Porter flipped through the pages. “I’m sure it’s here, Nancy. Just give me a verbal description and I’ll jot it down,” he said, clicking his ink pen and waiting.

  “Well, he, um…he had an erection,” Nancy replied, spreading her hands wide to indicate the extent of the erection. “And it was, um, you know…out there. I mean up there.”

  Although Nancy's nervousness didn’t require explanation in the room full of professional medical staff and her peers, Dr. Porter struggled to reign in a chuckle himself as he watched the nurse’s face turn red. But others in the room couldn’t contain their snickers.

  “Nancy, the Director, Dr. Pinder, has asked for a full report on John Doe No. 6. He feels it’s time this patient was transferred to another level of care,” Dr. Porter said, glancing around the conference table and putting an end to Nancy’s embarrassment.

  “But Dr. Porter, he is showing some movement. His body twitches, and he has periods of rapid eye movement. There’re times his breathing becomes accelerated, and his blood pressure increases, as does his pulse and heart rate. All of that could be an indication that he’s adjusting to outside stimuli and quite possibly could be coming around,” Nancy said.

  “All of those reactions could also mean he’s reliving a sexual event, right?”

  “Yes, Dr. Porter, you're absolutely right, but I'd like to ask that he remain on my floor where he’ll get round-the-clock care. Besides, I sense this young man is fighting his way back. We can’t give up on him now,” she implored.

  Dr. Porter knew what Nancy was asking. The alternative would be to move the patient to another floor where he would receive a minimal amount of care. The unit was for long-term comatose patients. He respected Nancy because, like him, she put the patient’s best interest first. Like Nancy, he didn’t worry so much about the rising medical cost the sanitarium was incurring for the private room, which was the real reason the director wanted John Doe No. 6 moved.

  “All right then, Nancy, your patient will remain on the floor,” Dr. Porter said, picking up another patient’s chart. He didn’t miss the collective sighs of his team.

  ***

  Cade

  He couldn’t have known that his care was discussed two floors below because he was more focused on the beautiful woman who’d called out to him, prompting him to turn toward her voice.

  “You’re hurt, aren't you?”

  How did she find me?

  He’d only just decided to retrace his steps, or had he been doing that for a long time as he struggled for answers? What happened to him, and where the hell was he? He couldn't see her, but he knew she was there. He could feel her presence. Then she asked him another question.

  “Why did you come to me?”

  He walked farther into the room where she was. It was her voice that guided him to her. He’d seen her before, perhaps several times. He wondered where she came from, but more importantly, if she could help him. A part of him didn’t think she was real. As the room slowly brightened, he realized he was standing just three feet in front of her. She sure looked real to him. He lifted his right hand to touch her cheek and jumped back suddenly.

  She is real!

  Her face was beautiful and warm to the touch. He found it difficult to speak, but after clearing his throat and several false starts, he’d been able to murmur in a raspy voice. “Yes, yes…I am hurt. Do you k-know me? Wh—who are y—you?”

  His let his eyes roam over her compassionate face, stopping at the crystal around her neck. It captured his attention because it glowed against her skin. He wanted to touch it, but at the same time, he was frightened of the large sparkling stone. He closed the distance between them. “Who are you?”

  “Valerie.”

  “Valerie,” he repeated, letting her name roll on his tongue. “Valerie, please tell me something. Am I dead and are we in heaven?” He realized then just how frightened he was, because at that moment, tears stung his eyes. He looked away, embarrassed.

  “I’m not dead, so I don’t think you are. I think you’re lost and trying to find your way.”

  “Well, that doesn’t help,” he quipped. “Where am I?”

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “Then how’d you get here?” he asked, extending his arms, then doubled over in pain. Struggling for breath, he pressed his hands against his thighs until he could stand upright.

  “I think you brought me here,” she said.

  “Like for a date?” When she chuckled, Cade ran a finger along the back of her hand.

  “No, I don’t think you had a date in mind. I think you’re looking for help,” she said.

  “Can you help me?”

  “If I can, I will,” she replied.

  He smiled at her matter-of-fact statement. “Ah-ha, so that must mean you’re an angel. Or are you a ghost?”

  “I’m neither, but tell me why you’re here in this room?”

  “I don’t know. It’s a nice room, though,” he said, glancing around and noticing his surroundings for the first time. “I—I don’t know why I’m here. Nothing makes sense,” he said and then quietly turned back to her. Just then, a vice-like hand gripped his shoulder, and pain shot through him again. He desperately wanted to cough but sensed if he did the pain would worsen. “I-I…” With each passing second, he became weaker, floating, and then came the feeling of euphoria that he’d become accustomed to and liked it. She asked if he was leaving again.

  “Yeah, sleepy,” he slurred.

  He felt himself falling backward. He didn’t want to leave her. He wanted to stay where she was because she was real and warm and seemed normal. Her voice called out above the clouds he was drifting toward. She’d asked what his name was, and he wanted to tell her that he didn’t know what his name was.

  Chapter Eight

  Valerie

  Valerie awoke when her alarm clock went off. She hit the snooze button. Instead of getting up, she lay there, gazing up at the ceiling, and recalled her conversation with the man in her vision. She could see him more clearly this time, and she found his voice pleasing. It was deep, refined, and educated with a hint of a southern accent.

  Annoyed when the insistent alarm beeped again, she slapped it off again, irritated that she’d lost her train of thought. After another five minutes of replaying their conversation, when her alarm signaled again, she frowned at its obtrusive interruption of her thoughts. When she swung her legs over the side of the bed, she experienced the usual disorientation, then slowly stood up. After a few minutes, she crossed her bedroom and froze when she caught her reflection in the mirror above the dresser.

  She had been surprised to see that she was still dressed in her charcoal gray suit from yesterday. Drawing closer to the mirror, she realized when she’d fallen asleep intending on taking only a quick nap. She’d been wearing her Aunt Ruby’s crystal. The gem was now very warm against her skin. Wrapping her fingers around it, in awe of its brilliance, she realized each time she’d worn it, she encountered the man. Shaking her head to clear the image of the man from her mind, she removed the satin ribbon from around her neck and placed the crystal back in the jewelry box on her dresser.

  She mentally scolded herself for breaking one of Aunt Ruby’s sacred rules of engaging the subject of a vision in conversation. She had deliberately initiated a vision just to find this man. She knew it was wrong, but for some reason, he had connected with her, and she wanted to help him.

  How could that be wrong?

  ***

  Ninety mi
nutes later, as Valerie rode the elevator up to her office, she realized she hadn’t jotted down everything she’d seen and heard as her aunt had always instructed her to do. Signs were everywhere during her dreams, trances, and visions, and not everything was immediately pertinent to the vision. Sometimes things she’d thought were irrelevant at the time in her visions became important later, so it was important to document as much as she could remember. She made a mental note to do that this morning right after she called to check in on Glen Walker again. He was still fighting a flu bug.

  Opening the door to the reception area of her office, she was surprised that Glenda, the agency receptionist, wasn’t there. Valerie stretched her shoulders when for several seconds they felt weighted down.

  Something’s wrong. I can feel it.

  Believing it was just stress coupled with the stack of papers in her satchel that she hadn’t worked on the previous night, she pushed open the door to her outer office, expecting to see the usual hub going on over coffee at Zoe’s desk. There was none of that today.

  Glenda was on the telephone and blowing her nose into a tissue. Frowning, Valerie walked into her office, where she found Zoe on the telephone, also.

  “Hi, Zoe,” she whispered and went about unloading her satchel, bagged lunch, and a larger brown paper bag containing a potted plant of colorful marigolds she’d purchased at the corner grocery. The plant was a thank you present to Zoe, who’d been working extra hard the past couple of weeks.

  After pulling the plant from the bag and placing a small white envelope among the blooms, she turned just as Zoe hung up the phone. “Hey, before I get too busy, can you place a call to Glen Walker’s office and see if he’s going to be in the office today? If he’s still out, I’m going to go out to see him at home,” she said as Zoe stood up, her face pale and anguished.

  Forgetting about the plant and the cup of coffee Zoe always prepared for her, Valerie rushed over to her friend and grabbed her hands. “Oh Lord, Zoe, what’s wrong?”

  “Val, honey, I-I have some terrible news to tell you,” she began, sniffing back tears.

  Valerie stared at Zoe, forcing herself to remain calm. She didn’t need any special gifts to tell her that whatever Zoe had to say was going to be devastating. “Just tell me, Zoe,” she said, realizing that the weight on her shoulders was now boulders as she tried to contain her panic.

  “Councilman Walker’s wife, Sarah, called this morning. Oh, Val, he died last night. Glen Walker passed away.”

  All at once, a ton of emotions swirled around inside Valerie’s head like a tornado. The first was deep, deep sadness, and the second was anger. At fifty-eight years of age, the Glen Walker she knew was the picture of health, that was until a few days ago when he’d come down with the flu. “Wh-what happened?” she managed to ask, her voice sounding raw and scratchy to her own ears.

  “All we know is that he’d been ill with that stomach bug for a couple of days, then late last night, Mrs. Walker called an ambulance to the house, and he died at the hospital of respiratory failure. Oh, Val, I’m so sorry.”

  Valerie immediately thought about Glen’s wife. “You talked to Sarah?”

  “Yes, she said she tried to call you several times last night but only got your answering machine or voice mail on your cell phone.”

  “Damn. I was so tired after work yesterday, I went home and crashed. I woke up this morning still in my work clothes,” Valerie explained, dropping her face to her hands. “I just don’t believe this,” she said.

  While Valerie grappled with her grief, Zoe explained the news media was just picking up the story, but Sarah had wanted her to tell Valerie personally. “I know he was your dearest friend and mentor, and to think a bad flu bug could kill a person…oh, this is heartbreaking.”

  Valerie pushed away from the desk. “That’s crap, Zoe. I don’t believe that. Glen can’t be dead,” she said angrily, her mind refusing to accept the reality of what she was hearing. A part of her knew that she was in denial, but she didn’t care. Needing to do something besides dissolving into tears, she got up, snatched up her satchel from the desk, and headed for the door.

  “Where’re you going?” Zoe asked.

  One look back at her friend’s face told Valerie how upset Zoe was. Of course she is, Valerie thought. Glen was Zoe’s friend too. Retracing her steps, she said gently, “I’m going to see Sarah. Are you going to be all right while I’m gone?”

  “Yes, don’t worry about me. You go be with Sarah. She needs you. But I’m here if you need me,” Zoe replied.

  After embracing Zoe tightly, Valerie rushed out the door. At the elevator, she paused. She heard Glenda crying and was glad to see Zoe hurry over to comfort her, as well.

  As soon as Valerie cleared the office, she sagged against the wall. She didn’t believe that a stomach bug or flu took Glen away from this life. “I don’t buy that, at all,” she said vehemently before smacking her palm against the down elevator button.

  ***

  Valerie

  Following a week of public viewings and memorials, the funeral service for Councilman Glen Walker befitted a beloved politician and community activist. The stream of mourners seemed endless. The tremendous turnout was a true testament that Walker was respected and loved by his constituents. The governor, mayor, and numerous government officials from both parties attended or sent condolences. Even the president, who was out of the country, had sent a personal note to Sarah expressing his sympathies.

  Through it all, Valerie remained by Sarah and her two teenage children. She never left Sarah’s side, fearing she would succumb to her own feelings of shock and grief.

  After the final memorial tribute, a few close friends and family members gathered in the Walker home. There, Valerie watched Sarah, graciously working the room, smiling, and accepting hugs and words of comfort.

  Valerie was in awe of this woman who had so suddenly lost the love of her life. Though grief-stricken and devastated beyond words, Sarah never faltered or revealed how deep her pain truly was. Sarah Walker was a woman of strength.

  While she admired how Sarah was handing her husband’s sudden passing, Valerie wanted to scream in anger and rage. She fought back the tears and tried to keep a smile plastered on her face for Sarah’s sake, but inside she was crumbling, reminding herself that now she was suffering another loss.

  As the evening wound down and the last of the visitors began to leave, Valerie sought refuge at the bar set up in the receiving room. The glass of wine she’d been nursing was now warmed by her hand. Just then, Sarah caught her eye and inclined her head toward Glen’s private office located at the end of the hallway. Valerie nodded in understanding. Sarah wanted to speak to her privately in Glen’s office, so she headed that way.

  Pushing open the door, Valerie entered Glen’s inner sanctum. The room smelled faintly of his spicy cologne and was decorated in rich, expensive burgundy leather furniture. His large mahogany desk took up most of the space in the room. Despite its richness, the room was comfortable and welcoming, and she knew Glen spent many days and evenings in there.

  The walls held numerous awards, plaques, commendations, certificates, and law degrees. Dozens and dozens of law books covered another wall in two massive floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and there were numerous pictures of him and his family taken on various exotic vacations and trips looking happy and carefree. On his desk in a small gold frame was a picture that was her favorite. It was of Glen and her taken at her college graduation. He was smiling down at her as she proudly clutched her degree.

  Glen had been like her second father and often introduced her as his goddaughter.

  Picking up the picture and choking back sobs, she remembered how happy she was that day. Her entire family, including Aunt Ruby, was there to cheer her on, and she had felt like she was ready to take on the world. How naïve she had been and how angry and frustrated she was now. She had her gift of vision and yet she hadn’t foreseen Aunt Ruby’s death or Glen’s.

&n
bsp; When Sarah entered the room and sighed, Valerie replaced the picture on the desk.

  Sarah leaned back against the door and closed her eyes. The façade she had been wearing was gone. That face slipped away like melting wax over a hot flame, leaving only a sad, heartbroken wife and mother.

  Valerie immediately crossed the room and embraced Sarah tightly. Stepping back, Sarah slipped off her heels and padded over to the liquor cabinet where Glen kept his stock of fine liquors and wines for his frequent visitors.

  Valerie said nothing as she watched Sarah pour herself a generous glass of wine and carry it over to the wingback side chair opposite Glen’s desk. Sarah flopped down as if she were releasing a huge weight—which in fact she was. Being dignified and noble all the while being constantly scrutinized by the watchful eyes of the public and media had to be unbearable, Valerie thought. But now behind closed doors, in this private sanctuary, Sarah could finally breathe and express what she was truly feeling to one of the few people that she absolutely trusted.

  “Valerie, come sit down and kick off your heels.”

  Swallowing past the painful lump in her throat, Valerie did as Sarah suggested, and for several moments, each sat in companionable silence sipping their wine. When Sarah finally put her glass down and ran her hand over the arms of the chair, Valerie couldn’t help but think how small Sarah now appeared. To Valerie, she was one of the toughest and most formidable women she’d ever known.

  “Valerie, we’ve spent all week talking about Glen, about me and the kids, the cat, and the plants. All I can say is that for now, I’m fine—all things considered. A week ago, Glen and I were in this very room talking about our upcoming anniversary cruise. Now, I’ve watched your face all week, and you’ve tried to hide it for my sake, but I know you too well, and I believe we share the same thoughts. So, since you haven’t broached the subject, I will.”