The Year of Chasing Dreams

by Lurlene McDaniel

  The aromas of burgers and fries, Chinese take-out, barbecue, and even fish and chips made her stomach rumble. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. She was suddenly ravenous. And very grateful for Garret and Eden.

  While the three of them ate, Ciana went into detail about the tornado. Even to her own ears, the story was spellbinding, and more than once caused herself and Eden to weep. “The house is gone,” Ciana said finally. “And so is everything in it.”

  “Not the most important stuff,” Eden said. “You and Jon are here.”

  “You two had all your belongings in the house, and nothing’s left.”

  “Just stuff,” Garret said. “We’ll go through the remains. Might find a few things that escaped. Plus we have the clothes we took with us to Florida.”

  Eden’s loss flooded back to Ciana. “I—I’m sorry.… I forgot.…”

  Eden shushed her. “We’ll talk about that later.”

  Ciana sniffed. “I’m worried about Mom.”

  “Your phone’s recharging.” Garret nodded toward the desk where the charger was positioned. “We’ll keep trying her cell. News channels say communications won’t stay down much longer.”

  “I—I just hope she’s …”

  “How about Jon’s mother?” Eden asked, interrupting the direction of Ciana’s thoughts.

  Ciana shook her head. “It’s crazy, but I know so little about Jon. Tried to think about getting hold of her last night, but couldn’t. Jon’s cell is missing. I’ve met his father, Wade, but not her. All I know is that Jon loves her and that she allowed him to give me the family heirloom ring.” Fresh tears welled in her eyes. “And now that’s gone too.”

  Garret slept out in the camper, giving Ciana and Eden the bed. Somewhere in the night, a beeping sound woke Ciana. She raised up, saw that her phone was glowing. A text had come in, meaning circuits had been restored. She grabbed her cell and shook Eden awake. “It’s from Mom!”

  Groggily Eden leaned over Ciana’s shoulder. “Read it to me.”

  “R U SAFE? ME OK. CALL ME. PLZ. LUV.” She texted Alice Faye her whereabouts, sent it, not knowing either when or if her mother would get it in the dead of night. Relief, gratitude, and fear all melted into one overwhelming emotion. She dropped the phone, put her hands over her face, and sobbed.

  Ciana and Eden returned to the hospital and the ICU floor as soon as it was light the next morning. “You don’t have to come,” Ciana told Eden. “Nothing for you and Garret to do. I just don’t want to miss talking with his doctor.”

  “I’m not leaving you alone,” Eden insisted. “Garret and I’ll be busy figuring out your next move. We’ll be in the waiting area surfing the Web.”

  Her next move. No idea what that might be. She hugged Eden, who was sitting on a settee in a waiting area lined with chairs and sofas and a row of vending machines around the corner. The wait time between visits into the unit was excruciating. “I haven’t asked you about your trip,” she said at some point. “Your mother—”

  Eden covered Ciana’s hands knotted together in her lap. “My mother’s ashes are coming with us to Bellmeade when we can get there. We’re going to scatter them over the garden together.”

  “Garden’s pretty wrecked too.”

  “So was my mother,” Eden said with a wry smile. “No disrespect. Just the truth.”

  Eden recounted everything about the journey, about Tampa, Crossroads House, their side trip to Destin, the news reports on the long drive back, of the tornado damage seen on the drive, of being turned away from Windemere when they’d been mere miles away. She finished with, “I was a basket case. If it weren’t for Garret, I’d still be wandering the back roads.”

  “Aussie Gold,” Ciana said, also very grateful for Garret.

  A man in a white coat came into the waiting area. He was short and swarthy, with soot-black eyes. “Miss Beauchamp?” He stopped in front of the settee. “I’m Dr. Patel. I understand you desire information about Mr. Mercer.” His words held the lilt of someone from India. He sat beside her. “I was told you and Jon are engaged.”

  “Yes. How is he? Please tell me the truth.”

  His voice held compassion when he answered. “Be assured I will be absolutely truthful with you, Miss Beauchamp. I will not try to spare your feelings. That is not my way, nor what a patient’s loved ones wish to hear. Is this acceptable?”

  “Yes.” Her voice cracked over the word. How much honesty could her heart stand?

  “Jon is in a coma. His brain has been battered. He is on the vent to make it easier for him to breathe, for his lungs have been traumatized also. His leg is in a cast and his orthopedist, Dr. Cruz, believes it will heal nicely.” He patted her hand. She gripped his. He offered an encouraging smile. “The first twenty-four hours after a brain injury are the most telling. Jon’s Glasgow Scale—which is how we rate comas—is the best indicator we have to judge him by during this critical period. A normal person, awake and aware, is a fifteen, so the closer to that number, the better the chance of full recovery.”

  The words rocked her. Jon had been unresponsive well past the twenty-four hour mark. “Tell me his number.” She tightened her hold on the doctor’s hand. His dark-skinned fingers became a lifeline.

  “Jon’s score is hovering around eleven. I have every reason to believe that if I can relieve the swelling inside his head, he will awaken.”

  Hope flared. “How long?”

  “Ah, the most difficult thing to answer. Perhaps days. Perhaps longer. Maybe a month.”

  Breath strangled in her throat. A month!

  “This is not always the case,” Patel amended soothingly. “But I tell you truthfully. Comas are tricky. I will continue to do brain scans and tests. I will visit him every day. If necessary, I will insert a shunt to drain accumulated fluid, but only if it is absolutely necessary.”

  A wave of nausea choked Ciana. “But probably not?”

  “Maybe not.” Dr. Patel extricated his hand from hers, flexed his fingers. “You have strong hands, Miss Beauchamp.”

  Self-consciously, she slid her hands into her lap.

  “Jon is young and physically fit. This is in his favor.” The doctor stood. “And he is loved. This I can clearly see. When you visit him, talk to him. Tell him of your love. Call him back to you.”

  “I can do that.”

  His heartwarming smile revived her optimism. “It is a fact that unconscious patients can hear, and when they awaken, they often recall what has been said to them. This may not sound scientific, but it is most assuredly true. I can only help his body. His heart, his spirit, is beyond my medical reach. Now go be with him. I will tell the nurses you may stay with him as long as you wish this day.”

  Ciana was on her feet and following, trying not to knock the man down or beat him to the nurses’ desk, her head full of all the words she wanted to say to Jon, her heart full of so much love for him, it shoved aside all fear.

  Pounding on the motel room door woke Ciana and Eden the next morning. With her heart banging in her chest, Ciana staggered to the door. “Garret? We’re not up yet.”

  “Honey, it’s me!”

  Her mother’s voice galvanized her. She unlocked the door, flung it open, and threw herself into Alice Faye’s arms. They had talked on their cells the day before, but briefly. Ciana had given Alice Faye the motel’s address. Ciana quickly dragged Alice Faye into the room. From the bed, a sleepy-eyed Eden mumbled, “Hey, Alice Faye.”

  Ciana switched on lamps as it wasn’t yet daylight. “Sit here.” She dragged the room’s only chair to the side of the bed and sat cross-legged facing her mother.

  “Sorry I couldn’t get here any sooner. Roads along our property just cleared. Here, I brought coffee and doughnuts.” Alice Faye thrust an aromatic sack into Ciana’s hand. “Just sit and let me look at you. Oh, baby, I was so worried.”

  “We’re all right.”

  Eden rubbed sleep from her eyes, reached for a cup of coffee.

  “T
ell me everything, Ciana,” Alice Faye said.

  Haltingly, Ciana brought her mother up to date about her ordeal and Jon’s condition. She couldn’t remain unemotional even now days later. “Jon’s cell phone was lost in the storm, and I don’t know how to reach his mother in Texas,” Ciana confessed. “She’s probably frantic, and she needs to know where he is.”

  “I can get ahold of her,” Alice Faye said. “Remember, I mailed him a paycheck that time he left to go back home right before Arie passed. He put her number in my cell before he left.”

  Ciana remembered throwing herself into his arms before he’d driven off. He’d not returned until the following October, bringing apples and laying them at her feet. She shook off the memory now threatening to make her break down. “Okay, Mom. It’s your turn. What happened to you?”

  “I was in the Piggly Wiggly when the tornado siren went off. The store manager herded us into a food locker, where we all hunkered down. There were around twenty-five of us, and we were terrified. Oh, honey, we heard the most awful sounds … like a train passing through.”

  Ciana nodded. A freight train bearing full bore on her and Jon—it was a sound she would never forget.

  “When we came out, half the roof over the store was gone and everything was in shambles. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

  “But you were safe,” Eden interjected.

  Alice Faye took Eden’s hand. “Only that man’s quick thinking saved us.” She looked at Ciana. “Outside, Main Street looked like a bomb had hit it. Buildings were just crumbled, heaps of bricks and drywall everywhere. And the ones still standing had no roofs. The hardware store’s gone. And the dime store, Flo’s Florist, the diner, Cooley’s department store, and … and …” Alice Faye’s voice broke. “How will Windemere ever come back?”

  Fresh tears trickled down Ciana’s cheeks as she saw in her mind’s eye every shop her mother described. “Could you get home?” She had avoided telling Alice Faye about the devastation at Bellmeade, wanting to hear what her mother had to say first.

  “Not that first night. Those of us who weren’t injured but were homeless were herded into any place that hadn’t been wrecked. I slept on a pew in Cornerstone Presbyterian Church.” She grunted. “I almost went on a hunt for the Communion wine.”

  “Mom, no—”

  “Don’t worry,” her mother said, giving Ciana a reassuring pat. “I fought the urge. And my sponsor was in the church with me, so we talked most of the night. But the next day, I ran into Cecil in the church basement in the Red Cross food line. The tornado was fickle, wiping out some areas, skipping over others. People who weren’t destroyed turned out to help us, God bless them. Arie’s parents, Abbie, Eric, and the baby are fine. Their homes lost roof shingles and a few trees fell on their properties. The whole community’s affected one way or another.” Her eyes went misty. She cleared her throat. “Of course, there was no way to call anybody and the roads were blocked in Bellmeade’s direction, so we were stuck. The cops wouldn’t let us leave. Just emergency vehicles allowed.”

  “Met one of those cops myself,” Eden grumbled. “Garret held me off from attacking the guy. Cop got lucky.”

  Alice Faye offered Eden a smile. “They tried to keep us out, too, but people with farms had animals to look after. They needed to get to their homes. Report was that the dairy farm lost six cows in the field. And you know how close the dairy is to Bellmeade property. I was sick with worry about you, our property …” She paused, overwhelmed.

  “You get out there yet?” Ciana’s pulse skipped a beat.

  “I have … late yesterday. Went with Cecil. Who’s going to stop him?” Alice Faye smoothed the bed sheet and picked up doughnut crumbs. “Took us over an hour because he had to stop his truck every few miles and chainsaw some trees off the road, but we made it.”

  “The horses? Soldier?”

  “They’re all right,” Alice Faye said softly. “Hungry and thirsty, and in need of a good scrubbing—especially Firecracker.”

  Ciana let go of the breath she’d been holding. “Poor things. Glad they’re okay, though.”

  “Oh, and Caramel had found her way home too. Cinch was torn on her saddle, so it was all lopsided and her hide rubbed raw, but I got it off her and smoothed some salve on her wounds. Cecil helped and we got them all cleaned up, fed, and settled in their stalls. I know the boarders must be going crazy wondering about their horses.”

  Ciana would tell Jon his horse was safe soon as she was alone with him. Maybe the news would penetrate the darkness that held him captive. “Can a vet check them over?”

  “Not right away. There’s too many hurt animals for a doc to get our way for a spell. I’ll watch ’em until one can come.”

  “Where are you staying?” Her mother hadn’t mentioned their demolished house, but she couldn’t have missed seeing it.

  “I’m living in the barn tack room Jon fixed up,” Alice Faye said, skirting the house issue that neither of them seemed to want to bring up. “Decent cot and a bathroom. I have plenty of candles, and Jacob’s old hurricane lamp until I can get gas for the generator and stock the little fridge.”

  “You going to be all right until we can get back there?”

  “Course we are.”

  “We?”

  “Cecil’s staying up in the loft, and we’re both armed.”

  Ciana gulped. “Is that necessary?”

  “National Guard won’t be hanging around forever. And for all the good people helping, there’ll be some who’ll take advantage of the disaster. Looters,” she said, her mouth set in a grimace. “They better not put a toe on Bellmeade. Cecil’s loaned me his Colt .45, and I know how to use it. Together with Cecil’s rifle we’ll settle any score we have to settle with thieves.”

  Later Alice Faye drove Ciana to the hospital. Eden said that she and Garret would come after finding a Laundromat to do the wash. Ciana went in first to see Jon. There had been no change in his condition, but she learned that Dr. Patel had lifted the visitor ban. Two at a time could come in and visit him.

  When Alice Faye joined Ciana beside his bed, she wept quietly. “Poor man. A coma? He just looks to be asleep, like if I called his name, he’d wake right up.” Alice Faye stroked Jon’s forehead. “Let’s go sit in that waiting area. Don’t think my heart can stand seeing him like this.”

  Ciana bent, whispered into his ear, “Be right back.”

  They weren’t the only people in the waiting area. A sleeping woman was curled on a sofa, and a couple drank coffee silently in side-by-side chairs. Ciana and Alice Faye took chairs against a far wall. Peace and privacy—Ciana had already learned what the people waiting in this space wanted and needed.

  “Tell me everything his doctor told you,” Alice Faye said.

  Ciana did. “My goal is to get an update every day, and be here whenever his doctor shows up. I don’t know when I’ll come back to Bellmeade.”

  “You stay long as you want. I can handle the horses. And the house.” She’d finally brought up the elephant in the room.

  “What house? It’s gone.”

  “Gone with the wind.”

  Ciana groaned. “Bad pun, Mom.” Ciana rubbed her temples, stared down at the floor. She’d fought so hard to save Bellmeade from Hastings’s buyout, positive it was the right thing to do. Now she felt utterly powerless, as tossed and rootless as the ancient oak trees on the Bellmeade driveway. “What are we going to do, Mama?”

  “You just concentrate on Jon for now. Mess back home isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Eden told me she and Garret will come on back soon as they can get there. Cecil says he can get Jon’s truck up and running, and we’ll get it over here so you’ll have transportation.”

  Alice Faye’s words gave Ciana a much-needed boost, as she hadn’t thought much further ahead than a day at a time. Of course her mother was right. Her energy should go to Jon. Everything else could be shouldered by family and friends. “Thank you.” She leaned her head on Alice Faye and her mother c
radled her like she might a small, frightened child.

  “We’ll get through this, honey. We might be bloodied, but we’re unbowed and unbroken. Now go be with Jon while I get back to Bellmeade.”

  The next morning there was still no change in Jon. Frustrated and frightened, Ciana made her way to the one area of the hospital dedicated to the wounded spirit. The chapel and its outdoor meditation garden, a walled enclosure for quiet reflection. She used to come with Arie. “Helps me forget what’s going on upstairs,” Arie would tell Ciana.

  The enclosure was square, generous in size. The stone walls were covered with climbing vines, now bursting with new growth. Meandering walkways led to benches or an occasional piece of metal artwork. Along the paths were small reflective pools of water, melodious fountains, Zen patches of pure white sand with candles to light. The garden’s beds had been planted with spring flowers. Arie once confessed, “This is where I talk to God.”

  Although the morning had started cool, the sun had chased away the chill. Ciana watched the joyous, carefree dance of butterflies fluttering over flowers, listened to tingling wind chimes in a nearby stand of bamboo. She closed her eyes, let her mind drift and meld with the solitude, gradually felt her heart grow peaceful and her soul grow light, weightless. She might have remained in this place under the warming sun for hours, but for a woman’s voice that asked, “Are you Ciana?”

  Ciana’s eyes snapped open, and she looked up to see a tall, pretty woman with brown hair and blue eyes. She appeared frazzled and stressed, very upset. “Yes?”

  “I’m Angela Mercer, Jon’s mother. I got here as soon as I could. How’s my son?”

  The set of her eyes and high cheekbones were Angela’s true calling card. Flustered and so unexpectedly dropped into reality, Ciana leaped up from the bench. “I—I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Angela took Ciana’s hands in hers. “Left Amarillo soon as your mother called me yesterday. Flew into Dallas, then to Nashville, drove a rental car to the hospital. Trip took all night, but this was as soon as I could make it.”