Dandelion Dreams (28 page)

“I’m a stubborn ass,” I say.

“We know,” Tristan and Reece say at the same time.

I sigh. “It looks different here.” I glance around. The lake isn’t silver, but golden and it looks like it’s covered in ice.

“Think we can walk across it?” Reece asks.

“Maybe, try it out,” Tristan urges.

“Okay.” Reece steps onto the lake. When its clear he won’t fall through, he looks at us and grins. After he reaches the middle, he drops to his knees. “You guys have to see this!”

“What is it?” Tristan asks, even as we go to join him.

Reece doesn’t reply, he just points. Tristan and I crouch. I touch the surface of the golden ice, but it’s not cold and I wonder if it’s ice at all. Underneath, the water ripples and I can barely make out the floating shape. But soon, I can see what it is. There is a goldfish, bright as the sun, swimming in circles.

I stare at it for what seems like an eternity, and finally, before my eyes, the goldfish breaks through the ice.

It begins to transform; fins turn to arms, its tail turns to legs. Scales melt into glowing, golden skin. It has become a woman—a beautiful, naked woman with chestnut colored hair and gray eyes that carry many secrets.

I don’t know where my friends have gone. I am alone with the goldfish woman. She smiles and holds out her arms to me. Unable to stop myself, I go to her. She wraps me in a tight embrace.

I see nothing but golden light.

Chapter 36

Sage

I awakened in the middle of the night to the sound of thunder and a banshee wind whipping tree limbs against the glass windows of the cabin. Somehow, I managed to tumble back into dreamland before I could think about moving upstairs.

I woke just as the sun was climbing over the mountains. I sat up, stretched my neck, and rubbed the crick in my lower back. I checked my phone; I had received a text from Kai at 1:00 AM saying he’d landed.

I called his cell, but it went straight to voicemail. I frowned. He’d gotten in late. Maybe he had decided to rent a hotel room by the airport to catch a few hours of sleep before driving home in the morning.

I was in the middle of making breakfast when I heard a car pull up in the gravel driveway.

Kai.

I turned off the burner, dumped my scrambled eggs onto a plate, and went to open the door, excitement blooming inside me.

“Mrs. Ferris?”

I stared in confusion at a young police officer, and my smile slipped from my face. I nodded slightly.

“I’m sorry to bother you this early, but we found your husband’s car off of…”

My vision went blurry, and I dug my nails into the palm of my hand to keep from fainting.

Words had lost all meaning in the wake of true destruction.

I collapsed like a matchstick dollhouse, broken, defeated in the new day’s light.

•••

“She hasn’t moved in hours,” whispered a voice. It might’ve been Alice, or maybe Lucy. It all sounded the same. Nothing penetrated the grayness of grief.

Kai is dead. Kai is dead. Kai is dead.

The chant played over and over in my mind, a wail on repeat. My lungs felt like iron spikes had punctured them.

My tears had long since dried, and my cheek was stuck to the wood floor.

“Sage?”

I opened my eyes and stared into the concerned face of my best friend. Jules lay next to me, her body mirroring mine. I watched her mouth speak; yet I didn’t hear words. I blinked.

“Sage?” Jules said again. “Would you like to move to the couch?”

“Maybe we should call Keith. He can come over and lift her,” Alice suggested from somewhere above me.

“He’s with George, Claire, and Wyatt,” Lucy replied.

“Sage will get up when she’s ready,” Jules said.

Ready? How will I ever be ready?

Standing up would mean that Kai was really gone. It would mean he had lost control of his car in the middle of a storm, and that he had hit a tree and died in his beloved mountains.

It would mean we would never have a life together.

On the floor, which was encrusted with my dried, salty tears, I could pretend for one more moment that Kai was coming back.

Sometime later I fell asleep, but woke again not long after—screaming. Jules’ arms surrounded me while sobs wracked my body. When they subsided, I croaked out, “Water.” I touched my head. It throbbed in pain. Someone gave me a glass.

Lucy.

Alice went into the kitchen, and when she returned she set a sandwich in front me, but I didn’t touch it. I drank more water.

I didn’t know how long I sat on the floor, but eventually I stood. Alice and Lucy helped me to the couch. I felt like someone had pulled a plug in my heart, and all my joy had drained out of me.

“Sage, you have to eat something,” Jules coaxed.

I dutifully shoved food into my mouth, but almost choked on it. I dozed off again.

I dreamed of Kai. I traced the smile lines at the corners of his eyes, and he held me against his chest. We swayed to the song he had played for me when we first met.

When I awoke, my cheeks were wet again. I’d been crying in my sleep.

I looked out the window. The sky was inky purple; it would be dawn soon.

•••

It was night.

I touched his side of the bed, curled my fist around smooth sheets and then flattened my palm. Staring at the ceiling, I debated looking at the clock. Time no longer mattered. With each pulse of my heart, I was unable to forget.

Not even in sleep.

Not even in the dark.

I felt like a starfish with one of its limbs ripped off. Would I be able to grow it back?

I sat up and shoved hair out of my face. I padded downstairs and went into the kitchen.

Kai’s flies and the contents of his tackle box were spilled across the kitchen table like child’s toys on the living room floor. His fishing pole rested in the corner by the back door, like it was waiting for him to come home.

I picked it up. It felt wrong in my hands, so I set it down.

I filled a glass of water and took it to the couch. I sat in the blackness and the silence until the sun soared over the mountains. It had been cloudy for days, yet bright beams managed to paint through the gray.

For others, it would be a beautiful day, a welcome change from the gloomy weather. For me, it would be the day of my husband’s funeral.

•••

“Have you eaten today?” Alice asked.

I clasped a pearl earring to my lobe and shook my head.

“Can I make you something?”

I swiped my hair back into a bun as I met Alice’s eyes in the mirror.

She needed to be needed. She was a mother without a child. I was a child without a mother. And a wife without a husband.

“Toast would be nice.”

“How about something more substantial?” She looked at my swollen belly.

“Toast.”

Resigned, she nodded. Before she left the room, she pulled me into her arms. I felt like a moldy old tower with most of its bricks missing. I was teetering, ready to fall. Alice left me, and I could hear muffled conversation downstairs.

I stared at my reflection. My eyes didn’t look haunted—they looked empty. I lifted my chin, but my lip quivered. I bit it hard, giving myself pain to distract me from my emotions. I gripped the edge of the dresser, my knuckles white.

“You will not fall apart, you will not fall apart,” I whispered.

I took the stairs slowly, my heels clacking on wood. The swell of conversation dimmed. I found Celia’s eyes first. Armand stood next to her.

Jules was tucked away in the crook of Luc’s arm, her face pale and her eyes watery. It hurt my heart—seeing them together. Knowing they were happy. Knowing they’d found each other.

Knowing what I’d lost.

Keith stood tall and somber. He’d removed his cowboy hat, showing neatly combed hair liberally streaked with gray. His black cowboy boots were shined with polish, and I focused on them. Alice came out of the kitchen with a plate. She handed it to me. I picked up a piece of toast and stuck it into my mouth, forcing myself to chew. My stomach rebelled, and I thrust the plate at her before I ran for the front door. I barely made it outside before I threw up in the green bushes.

I coughed and choked, and I spent a moment bent over at the waist. I heard footsteps on the porch and rose. Celia held out a glass of water. I walked to her and took it. I swished it around my mouth and spit it out.

“You ready?”

“Loaded question, isn’t it?” My voice was a croak. I set the glass down on the porch. She came to my side, then took my hand and squeezed it.

I closed my eyes as we drove towards the cemetery, towards the moment when I would have to bury Kai.

•••

Wyatt stood by his brother’s grave, his eyes downcast. I could see the tears on his cheeks. Lucy stood next to him. Her red hair was a bright flag of color in a sea of black.

I went to Claire. I took her hand, and she clasped onto mine. We had become family by marriage; now we were a family in sorrow.

Where is George?

White, elegant roses covered the casket that housed my husband. I felt my legs about to give way. I didn’t want to take Claire down with me. I tried to drop her hand, but she held on.

“Breathe,” she whispered in my ear. “Just breathe.”

I sucked in air and choked on a sob as they lowered Kai into the ground. It started to rain and someone opened an umbrella to shield me.

I lived my life under an umbrella of death.

Mud stained the living grass, and still they shoveled the wet earth onto him. They were smothering him. Kai was drowning in dirt and rainwater—drowning in spring.

I wished to place my body on top of his, feel his lips on mine.

I didn’t want him to be alone.

I pushed the umbrella out of the way and turned my face to the storm. The sky cried with me.

I was not broken—I was annihilated.

I wanted to collapse and never get up again.

But I had to.

For the baby.

Kai’s baby.

•••

I lay on Kai’s childhood bed, dozing as the sun set. I felt a body sink down next to me and for one moment I believed it was Kai. But there was no smell of mountains, no scent of sunshine.

Kai was gone.

“Are you awake?” Wyatt asked.

I rolled over and looked into Wyatt’s golden brown eyes. The Ferris brothers did not physically resemble one another. I was eternally grateful for that fact.

“Did I dream it?”

Wyatt paused before shaking his head
no.

“It’s not fair,” I whispered.

“I know.”

I turned my head away. “George didn’t go to the funeral, did he?”

“No. He couldn’t face it. I think—I think this might kill him, Sage.” We lapsed into silence before he said, “Are you still planning to return to France?”

“Yes.” I sat up and rubbed a hand across my face.

“I wish you’d stay,” he murmured before rising.

I took a deep, shaky breath. “To stay would kill
me.
”

•••

I awoke before the rest of the house. Grabbing my belongings, I went out onto the front porch to call a cab. It arrived fifteen minutes later, and I climbed into it, sliding across the ripped black leather seat. I gave the driver the address to Memaw’s cabin and then directed him when he almost lost his way.

The house was quiet.

I journeyed upstairs and paused outside the bedroom I had shared with the love of my life. I made myself cross the threshold and swallowed the lump of emotion in my throat.

I changed out of my funeral dress and threw on a pair of jeans and one of Kai’s t-shirts.

It smelled like him.

I went to my side of the bed, lifted up the mattress, and pulled out a stack of papers. If it hadn’t been for Kai, I never would’ve found the strength to write. He’d become my foundation, my support beams, my lean-to out of the rain. He’d been the reason I claimed my gift.

He’d been my inspiration.

I set the manuscript down on the bed, and slipped on my shoes. I walked the familiar path to the foundation of our unfinished home.

I wanted to burn it to the ground, but it was cement.

Something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. Crouching down, I plucked a dandelion from its resting place. I made a wish, took a deep breath and blew. The seeds swirled around me before being carried away by the spring breeze.

Who knew where they’d fall or if they’d take root?

The wind changed, and a seed I thought long gone floated back and caressed my cheek.

I closed my eyes.

I felt Kai at my back, solid and sturdy as his arms came around me, settling low on my round belly, sheltering us.

The baby kicked.

Kai’s lips grazed my hair, and I smelled the sunshine on his skin. My hands covered his, and I sighed, lost in a moment of contentment.

There’s powerful magic in a dandelion wish.

To dream is beautiful.

To love is a blessing.

To hope is human.

Keep reading for a sample of
Season of the Sun
, the sequel to
Dandelion Dreams.
Available March 22, 2016

Prologue

Sitting on the bank of the lake, I stare at the sun-speckled water. I hear movement behind me, but I don’t turn. Kai plops down next to me and sticks his bare feet in the lake. He’s wearing his favorite pair of ratty jeans.

“I love it here,” he sighs.

“I know.”

“I meant being here with you—not the lake.”

“Oh.” I smile, deliriously happy to be here with this man.

He wraps an arm around me, and I press my face into the crook of his neck and breathe him in. I can smell the sun on his skin—it’s been baked into him.

“I dream of you often,” I reply.

“I know.”

Kai pulls back and pushes a piece of hair away from my face. It’s endless summer in the place where Kai and I meet—a place of in-between—where hopes are as plentiful as dandelion seeds. In this place, the sun always shines. I stare directly into the glowing orb in the sky, and it doesn’t hurt my eyes, reminding me that this is only a dream.