The Year of Chasing Dreams

by Lurlene McDaniel

  Eden knew she was in trouble but fought down panic. Losing her head wouldn’t help her. Then, without warning, she shifted and went over sideways. Treading water, she watched the board bob away in growing swells. She took in a mouthful of water, coughed and gagged, fought to stay afloat. Then the tide caught her from underneath, tumbled her over and under, sucked her down. She opened her eyes. Seawater stung and burned. She kicked hard for the surface, spun helplessly, and realized that she didn’t know which way was up. Desperate for air, she scrambled, turned, and kicked, swallowed more water, breathed in ocean, not air.

  Her lungs burned, begged for oxygen, and just as darkness closed over her, she felt hands grab her and haul her upward. A hallucination? Unable to stop herself, Eden breathed and filled her nose and throat with seawater. And the world went black.

  Eden woke gasping, coughing, gagging up salt water, her lungs on fire. She blinked, saw men’s faces hovering over her. One shouted, “She’s back!” An oxygen mask quickly covered her face, and then Garret was there, hovering over her, touching her, holding her hand, tears in his blue eyes. Later she learned she’d been saved by lifeguards and that she’d gotten caught in a riptide. She was lucky to be alive.

  Garret’s parents came for them, their faces grooved with concern. Back at the house, Maggie helped Eden shower and dress, clucking around her until she had parked Eden on a sofa, and fortified her with tea and soup. Then Garret took over.

  “I’m all right,” Eden told him, making an effort to settle both of them. Her voice was hoarse from swallowing seawater.

  Garret couldn’t take his eyes off her. “I—I could have lost you.”

  “But I’m okay. Really.” Her throat felt raw, and she had scrapes on one arm from tumbling against the ocean’s gritty bottom. Her muscles were sore from fighting the relentless tide, but mostly she was grateful that she’d survived. She was also embarrassed, knowing she’d ruined what was to have been a kickoff party for the autumn season. What she’d done, used a surfboard as a float, had been foolish.

  His face looked ashen and his eyes were shot through with remorse. He climbed on the sofa to sit behind her, wrapped his arms around her, and nestled her against his chest. His big hands tenderly stroked her arms. “I should never have left you alone for so long. I’m sorry, love.”

  “Don’t blame yourself. It was my fault for thinking the Pacific Ocean was akin to a pool. Tennessee’s landlocked, you know. No ocean for hundreds of miles. Dumb me.” He placed his cheek on hers. She felt the rough scrape of stubble. “Ciana would kill me if I came over here and drowned.” She heard the low sound of his chuckle in her ear.

  “I won’t let you out of my sight from now on.”

  In his embrace, she felt safe. She turned her head to catch his eye. “I know your mother means well with the tea and all, but do you think I could trade it for a glass of wine?”

  A smile lit his face. “I’ll get us both some.” He kissed the nape of her neck, untangled himself from the lightweight blanket his mother had insisted Eden use.

  Eden watched him head toward the kitchen and the wine refrigerator there. She closed her eyes, took shuddering breaths, clenched her hands into trembling fists in an effort to ease the terrifying memory of being swallowed by the sea.

  Ciana spent many evenings in Olivia’s former study, at her grandmother’s ancient scarred oak desk, going through old ledgers from the days when Bellmeade accounting had been kept by hand. Nowadays she entered the numbers into a computer accounting program, where straight rows painted a picture of a farm’s financial health but never the hardships of the farm’s life. Over the years, many a hand had made neat entries on the paper. Ciana liked skimming the books, keeping an eye out for notations in the book’s margins, some of them especially poignant.

  Old Jake dropped dead plowing today. A good horse, but plum wore out.

  Drought took fifty acres. Poor harvest. Will owe bank.

  Hail ruined most of hay crop.

  In the 1940s, her great-grandfather noted he’d bought a tractor from a bankrupt neighboring farm. But it was Olivia’s notation in 1961 that one evening stopped Ciana cold.

  Bought the Soder farm for back taxes today. Sheriff tossed Roy off the property. He never saw it coming. Am glad both his parents are gone and didn’t have to face the humiliation, but I hate Roy with all my being. God forgive me for gloating.

  Ciana pushed back in the squeaky desk chair, her palms against the well-worn arms, and mulled over the entry. What had happened that made Olivia turn against Roy? Last she’d read, Olivia had been in school and all of sixteen, getting a French kiss from the guy. In that entry Olivia had noted, The kiss made my knees go weak and my heart ’bout jump out of my chest. My first kiss like that … with his tongue in my mouth. I’m supposed to not like Roy. Never supposed to be seen with him. So why do I think about him all the time and wish he’d kiss me that way again?

  Ever since reading that entry, Ciana had had to put the diaries aside. Many of the books were near ruin; apparently, the old roof had leaked at some point in the past, and water had badly damaged the delicate paper. Maybe that was when the old books had been shoved into the trunk, locked away, and forgotten. Ciana sighed. Regardless of the mildew and stuck-together pages, she’d have to go back to delving into them. She just had to know what had turned her grandmother’s schoolgirl attraction to Roy into hatred so many years later.

  “Knock, knock,” a voice said.

  Ciana’s gaze shot to the doorway, where Jon stood leaning against the jamb. “How long have you been there?”

  “Long enough. You looked miles away.”

  She closed the open book containing Olivia’s note and shoved it aside. “Come in.”

  He did, and laid twelve long-stemmed red roses across the desk. The petals glowed under a Tiffany lamp. “Flowers? For me?”

  His brow knitted; then he smiled. “Of course for you.”

  “But why?” His green eyes held hers, igniting the familiar warmth just his nearness could create. If there was a potion to make her immune to him, she swore she’d take it.

  He looked bemused. “Did you forget? Happy Valentine’s Day.”

  Her gaze flew to the desk calendar. February 14. It had totally slipped her mind. Plus, she’d worked all day and was tired. She shrugged sheepishly, picked up one of the perfect roses, and brought it to her nose. “I did forget. Thank you.”

  He chuckled. “You may be the only woman in the country who forgot.”

  She smiled. “You shouldn’t have spent your money. I know roses cost a lot.”

  “My money. And I didn’t buy them. I picked them.”

  She quickly eyed the perfect stems, obviously groomed to be gifted.

  “I picked them from Flo’s Florist on Main Street,” he said.

  That made Ciana laugh. “Touché, cowboy.” She wanted to stand up and wrap herself in his arms. She wanted to feel his mouth on hers, his hands on her skin. All she needed to do was open her arms, invite him to herself. Instead she cleared her throat. “Thank you again.”

  He searched her face, and she saw his desire and his hesitation. Why did she hold back? She wanted him. He wanted her. Simple chemistry. Except it wasn’t really so simple for her. She shifted uncomfortably and watched the light of yearning fade from his eyes. “I also have a request,” he said after a moment of awkward silence.

  Not trusting her voice, she nodded as a sign for him to continue.

  “I want to get a dog to monitor the immediate grounds, the house and barn, and the nearby pastures.”

  “A dog?” The request caught her off guard.

  “I’ve been asking around, and there’s a rescue shelter in Nashville that takes in old police and military dogs when they’re no longer able to stay in the field. Otherwise most of them would have to be put down. A well-trained dog will go a long way to keep intruders off your land.”

  The idea had never occurred to her. “I don’t know, Jon. What if it goes after the chicken
s?” She’d heard stories about farm dogs with a taste for both eggs and the birds that laid them.

  “It won’t.”

  She chewed her bottom lip. Another animal to feed.

  He must have sensed her thought, because he quickly added, “I’ll take care of him.”

  Still she hesitated.

  “A perimeter dog will keep trespassers away. We’ll all sleep better.”

  She had never figured that Jon might have been lying awake nights, listening for trespassers invading the barn—or worse, the house. He was worried, so she couldn’t dismiss his request. “All right. Go get us a badass dog who’ll bark his fool head off.”

  He touched his forehead in a casual salute and left. She turned off the lamp and sat in the dark, longing to consummate what lay between them while chiding herself for letting it walk away one more time.

  The dog was a German shepherd with hip dysplasia, still young and healthy enough to be useful for guarding property if not rigorous police work. His name was Soldier, and when Jon returned with the animal a few days later, Ciana saw that the shepherd was already bonding him. She wasn’t surprised. Jon had a way with animals—he was a horse whisperer, after all.

  Jon introduced Ciana and Alice Faye to Soldier, who thoroughly sniffed them and seemed to understand that they were to be accepted, then walked him the perimeter of Bellmeade proper.

  Later, clearing the supper dishes, Ciana asked her mother, “Why didn’t we ever have a dog when I was growing up? Lots of farms do.”

  “We did once. When you were a baby, an old hound wandered onto the property and stayed. I liked him a lot.”

  “So what happened?” Ciana leaned against the counter. Her interest in the family’s past had grown since she’d discovered the diaries.

  “When you were about three, you tried to ride him like a pony and he nipped at you. So Olivia got rid of him.”

  The expression on Alice Faye’s face told Ciana there had been a rift between her mother and grandmother over the dog’s disappearance. “Wouldn’t it have been better to tell me to leave the dog alone?”

  “I thought so, but Granddaddy Charles ended up agreeing with Olivia. And in the long run, so did I. One day when you have a child, you’ll understand about protecting her above everything else.”

  Feeling sorry for the long-gone dog, Ciana crossed her arms. “Well, I sure won’t let some kid get away with stupid stuff. Dog was just saying no to me. He shouldn’t have been turned out.”

  Alice Faye flashed an indulgent smile, communicating that the incident was best forgotten, but Ciana could tell that even after all these years, the loss still hurt her mother.

  Ciana added, “Well, we have another dog now. And I’m old enough to bite him back if he nips me.”

  Her mother laughed, making Ciana curiously happy.

  Within days Soldier took up his duty, keeping watch by night and sleeping in the barn by day.

  And with Soldier doing due diligence, they all slept better.

  On one of Ciana’s rare runs into Windemere, she bumped into Abbie in the grocery store. “Wow! Look at you,” Ciana said, eyes on the girl’s swollen belly. The memory of Abbie and Eric’s lovely wedding and how happy Arie had been with Jon by her side flashed through Ciana’s mind.

  Abbie laughed. “I know. I look like I’ve swallowed a bowling ball.”

  “You look …” Ciana searched for the perfect word. She chose “… happy.”

  “I’m very happy.” Abbie patted her abdomen. “Not much longer.”

  Ciana felt ashamed for not keeping in closer touch with Abbie and Eric, knowing that if Arie were still alive, she’d have kept Ciana up on every detail. “I should have checked on you.”

  “I’m working, you’re busy—don’t think about it.” Her expression grew serious. “We heard you were having trouble with vandals. Really sorry, Ciana.” Then her look hardened. “Don’t you let anybody run you off, you hear? That’s your land!”

  Her fierceness touched Ciana. “No one’s going to run us off. I know my decision affects a lot of people.” She gave Abbie a serious look. “I know a new subdivision would mean lots of work for Eric and Swede Winslow.”

  “Don’t know that. Hastings can hire from anywhere he wants.” She took Ciana’s hand. “My husband and father-in-law have plenty of work.”

  Ciana watched the news; she knew the national economy wasn’t robust. It was sweet of Abbie to try to ease any guilt Ciana felt. She cleared her throat. “I better get along.”

  Abbie smiled. “Me too, but it was sure good to see you. Arie loved you like a sister.”

  “Same here.” The girls hugged and Abbie turned to go. “Wait,” Ciana said. “You’ll tell me when the baby comes?”

  “Course I will. You’ll be getting a shower invitation soon, and you better be there!”

  Ciana watched until Abbie turned at the end of the grocery aisle and disappeared. She swallowed the lump in her throat over the memory of her friend, and willed Eden to pick up on her subconscious message to come home.

  When Ciana turned into Bellmeade’s tree-lined driveway, she saw a car parked beside her front steps and heard Soldier barking furiously outside the driver’s door. Ciana screeched to a halt, jumped from her truck, and ran to the car. She grabbed Soldier’s collar, yelled, “Stay!” The dog sat and Ciana squinted into the window, but the tinted glass obscured the driver’s face. “Hello?” she said.

  Slowly, the window inched down and a man’s voice, accented and hesitant, asked, “Am I safe?”

  “Oh my gosh!” Ciana cried, her heart leaping along with a smile. “Is it really you?”

  Just then Jon’s truck came barreling down the driveway and slid to a stop behind the car. Jon ran over and took the dog’s collar from Ciana’s hand, saying, “Heard him barking half a mile away. What’s up?”

  Ciana yanked open the car door and a tall, elegantly dressed dark-haired man emerged cautiously. She stood on tiptoes, threw her arms around him, kissed him, and cried, “Enzo! Jon, it’s Enzo Bertinalli, my friend from Italy!”

  Jon nodded to Enzo, relaxed his grip on Soldier’s collar. The dog stood, ears forward, on guard, muzzle up.

  “He—he won’t bite me, will he?” Enzo asked, leaning back against the car.

  “Only if I tell him to,” Jon answered, wearing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

  Ciana shot Jon what she hoped was a withering look. She hooked her arm through Enzo’s. “Come into the house. Tell me all about life in Italy. And your horses.”

  “I have wine for you,” he said, still not taking his eyes off the dog.

  “I’ll just mosey to the barn,” Jon said in an exaggerated Texas drawl.

  If looks could kill, Ciana would have laid Jon out on the ground. She and Enzo watched Jon and Soldier walk away, and once the two were a safe distance away, Enzo swung her to face him. “I did not have a way to reach you, or I would have called. So I drove over from Nashville where I am staying, and all in your town knew where to find you.”

  I’ll bet, she thought. “Let’s go inside.”

  Enzo opened the back door of the rental car and pulled out a Styrofoam box. “My best reserve vintage from last year.”

  His vineyards were famous and his wines some of the finest in Tuscany. “Thanks. Can’t wait to open one.” She led him up the steps, through the foyer, and down a hallway and into the kitchen. “There’s usually someone here. My mom must have run out.”

  He set the box on the counter, took Ciana’s hands in his, appraised her head to toe. “You are as lovely as I remember, bella Ciana.”

  She blushed, knowing her hair was windblown and her face makeup-free, and she figured she smelled like hay and horse feed. “Nice of you to say. I was in town running errands, buying seed. I start planting middle of next month.” Reminding herself of another bill that would come due all too soon. His brown eyes caught hers, taking her back to evenings in Italy with him, when he’d held her, kissed her. She felt her face grow warm
with the memories. “Let me take your coat. We’ll sit in the front room.”

  He slid his coat off, handed it to her. The fine cashmere felt soft as silk. She led him into the refurbished parlor with its midcentury furnishings, grateful that she’d gotten it freshly painted and put back together over the winter. She draped his coat over a chair, sat on the sofa, and patted the cushion beside her. “So what brings you to Nashville?”

  He eased beside her. “Often I go to New York City to a few select restaurants to sell my wines to key clients. This year I brought some to Nashville. I have heard it might be a good market.”

  She was surprised he’d come so far west. “Long way from New York.”

  “And I come also to meet with a man who wishes to buy the stud services of one of my prize stallions.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled.

  Enzo’s horses were world-class thoroughbreds, greatly valued in the equestrian world. She was certain breeding fees would be substantial. “I’m impressed.”

  Enzo’s hand slid over hers, making her remember that he liked to touch her. She had liked it too. “The patron has four daughters, all riders, and one wishes to ride in the Olympics one day. For that she needs a very good horse.”

  “Won’t it take years to raise a colt?”

  “She is young, and her father gives her what her heart desires.” He used his other hand to gesture. “She is a—how do you say—a child with his younger wife. His other daughters are grown.”

  Ciana caught on instantly. Older man. Second wife. Child of their own. Indulged. “Well, you do have great horses, so she’ll be lucky to have one from their bloodlines. I know I enjoyed our rides together.”