The Man of my Dreams (2 page)

Chapter 2

De Ja Vu

Cassie slipped in and out of consciousness, rambling about the man who had saved her. It seemed she was reliving the nightmare over and over again, crying out at times. Doctors concluded the man was a figment of her imagination, invented by her to save her from the abuse she'd suffered from her stepfather. They found extensive faded bruising and evidence of continual sexual abuse. Her mother had cried, ashamed. She hadn’t listened to her daughter’s pleas about her husband's advances. She thought Cassie was exaggerating his motives. Cassie hadn't told her how far it had gone. No wonder . . . It's not like she'd been much of a mother to the poor girl over the last few years. Why? Why had she let that bully of a man drag her down so low?

She sat at Cassie’s bedside praying her daughter would recover without serious brain damage. The poor child had suffered an oxygen shortage while that bastard’s hands had been around her throat. She'd never forgive herself if her baby died or never totally regained consciousness.

She was consoled by Cassie’s father, who sat beside her and held her hand. She rang him when they got to the hospital. They hadn’t spoken in the last two years and he hadn’t seen Cassie— not because he hadn’t wanted to, but because it was too painful to see the love of his life with such a man. He had tried to get his ex-wife and daughter to come away with him, but that man had some sort of hold over them and his ex-wife’s spirit seemed broken.

He should never have let it happen in the first place. His stupid midlife crisis had caused him to let her down. He'd succumbed to the flattery of a younger attractive female workmate. Harmless flirting turned into a liaison at a seedy motel. He regretted it as soon as it happened. God, how he loved his wife! What was wrong with him? Of course she saw the signs and left him. He begged for forgiveness, but he'd shattered her trust and she felt humiliated and worthless. She took Cassie and they left. He hadn’t tried hard enough to get them back.

This is my fault,
he thought to himself and he started to sob.

His ex-wife turned to him and squeezed his hand tighter. She still loved him and knew he was blaming himself, just as she was. Her heart went out to him.

Her parents looked at one another not sure what to say. Her father had been painting her room the day before her mother left. She had picked a bright pink colour for the walls and a pretty green for drapes and bedding. He finished painting the room and it hadn't been touched since the day they separated. Her father stood up.

Cassie frowned and tried to think. All she could remember was being excited because her father had brought the paint home and was prepping her room ready to start painting. Her mother sighed and hoped that Cassie's memory loss would be permanent, sparing her from the horrors of what her so-called husband had put the innocent girl through this last year.

The doctor assured him it was normal with this type of trauma— it was the mind's way of dealing with such things. Her memory might return gradually or never at all. It was hard to tell with these cases. Her father, like her mother, prayed it never would.

Outside in the corridor Cassie's parents made a pact. They would try and put their marriage back together and let Cassie forget that the last two years ever happened. Certainly she'd realise things had changed and that she'd grown older . . . but she'd never have to know about her father's affair or the horrible man who had taken her innocence and almost her life. They would think of a way to explain the attack and tell her the man had been found dead. Cassie would never need to worry about him trying again. Together they would put their shattered lives back together for the sake of their daughter and never speak of it again. They would be a family as they should have always been.

Chapter 3

Shattered Dreams

It had been a long night. We always seemed to be short staffed at the hospital these days and literally run off our feet. At last, I was home. All I could think of was jumping in the shower and snuggling up to Paul, who was sound asleep. It was 2 a.m., after all. A two whole week’s holiday stretched before me. I couldn’t wait for the morning.

I let the hot water run over my body for 20 minutes. It felt so good, relaxing my aching muscles. I dried myself and walked into the bedroom naked, the cool air feeling good on my skin. I slid in between the sheets and snuggled up behind Paul, looking forward to a sound sleep. Startled, Paul pulled away from me and moved to the other side of the bed. I was taken aback.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he replied groggily. “I’m just tired."

I was beyond hurt. He'd never done that before. It wasn’t like I was trying to seduce him. I just wanted to cuddle him and go to sleep. Now I felt sad and alone, wondering what was going on in his head. So much for a peaceful night's rest, I'd be worrying all night.

It took me ages to finally sleep. I tossed and turned, trying not to cry. It occurred to me how dependent I'd become, needing Paul's warm back to lull me into dreamland. But eventually exhaustion worked its magic.

The same reoccurring dream filled my subconscious. The dark haired man, once again, joined me in the sleep realm. I have no idea who he is or where he came from, but I've been dreaming about him for years. He'd been present in my dreams since I was 17 and lost my parents in that horrible car crash.

We'd been out together for dinner and a movie and were on our way home. Out of nowhere a drunk driver veered across the centre line and hit us head on. I was the only survivor and mysteriously ended up at the hospital just moments after the accident happened. No one could explain it, except that maybe some Good Samaritan driving past had dropped me off and left before the police could ask questions. I couldn’t remember anything about the accident or how I had possibly survived. I certainly had no knowledge of the person who rescued me. It was a tough time in my life, being alone and orphaned at such a young age, hospitalized for weeks.

Perhaps this tragedy drew me to nursing. After I was discharged, I decided to enroll in nursing training and have worked in the profession ever since. I met Paul, a friend of a friend, 10 years later. We seemed to click straight away and within a few months had moved in together.

My dreams about the dark haired man are always happy. I have no idea if he is real, a figment of my imagination, or someone I knew in a past life. He always makes me feel safe and protected in his arms. I never felt completely alone even during the loneliest times of my life. Maybe I invented him to help cope with the huge loss of my parents? I really don't know where he came from but am very glad he lives somewhere in my dreams.

He visited me again tonight.

I'd been restless, drifting in and out of reality before hearing his voice.

Are you okay, Cassandra?
Whispered my dark haired man.

I'm so confused!
I confided
. I don't understand why Paul is being so cold to me
.
Everything seemed fine until I got home from work tonight. Now he's acting strange and I have no idea what's going on!

My dark haired man took me in his arms and pulled me close to him, so safe and warm. It felt like home.

I am so lucky to have you
, I said, looking up into those soft green eyes. He always made me feel so wonderful, like nothing could ever hurt me.
What did I ever do to deserve you?

He pulled away and led me to the grass, emerald green in the sunlight. I stood over him as he sat, relaxed. It was such a beautiful day, as it always was in my dreams. Soft grass, wildflowers everywhere, birds were singing . . . and of course his presence. I could feel the sunlight on my face and the scent of lavender filled the air. I felt so loved when I was with him, so at peace.

Why can't I feel like this all the time?
I thought to myself. Of course, he heard my thoughts.

I'm the lucky one,
he said, smiling up at me. I thought I saw a flicker of sadness in his eyes.
You have given me so much, more than you will ever know, Cassandra.

I sat down next to him and took his hand in mine. He smiled that beautiful smile, melting my heart and then leaned towards me. My cheek warmed from his soft kiss. His chest and arms enveloped me, pulling me around my waist . . . against him.

I'll be here as long as you need me.

I woke in the morning to find Paul had already left for work. He hadn’t even come in to kiss me goodbye. Something was definitely wrong. I dragged myself out of bed and slipped on my dressing gown, stomach churning. I hadn't a clue what had happened. The day before everything seemed fine. What had suddenly changed so drastically? Why was Paul so cold to me? I picked up the phone and tried ringing his mobile. It went straight to voice mail. I left a message for him to ring me back and then made myself a cup of tea. I sat down on the couch, worried.

A million things ran through my head. Was it something I'd said or done? I couldn’t think of anything. We visited his mum and dad for lunch yesterday and everything seemed fine. His sister had cut my hair and he'd been really attentive. He even told me I looked beautiful. What possibly could have changed between then and my shift at the hospital?

What had I done?

The phone rang and I almost jumped out of my skin. It was Paul. He said he had a lot on his mind and not to worry too much. His workmate had died a couple of months ago and he had been under a lot of stress at work.

"It isn’t you," he assured me. "You haven’t done anything and we'll talk properly when I get home."

I felt relieved. Perhaps it really was just work stress. Feeling better, I set about getting dressed and planning what to do with the wonderful two weeks I had off.

I was chatting on the phone to a friend of mine, Maria, when Paul turned up. He'd come home for lunch. I said goodbye to Maria and hung up the phone, happy to see him. As I approached him with a hug, he dodged me. "We need to talk, Cassandra," he announced. Uh oh, there went that churning in my stomach again. He kept his distance. It made me feel really uneasy.

“Okay, Paul. What is going on?” I asked.

“I've been doing a lot of thinking,” he said, somber and reserved. “I’m just not sure if I still want to get married and have kids anytime soon.”

I was shocked.

Where was this coming from? We'd been planning to get married and have a baby for years. Why this sudden about turn?

“Alright,” I responded shakily, trying to stay calm. “We can wait a while longer.”
But how much longer?
I was 33 and felt my biological clock ticking. We'd been together for nearly six years and the whole time he knew I always wanted kids. At this moment I felt a bit cheated. Cheated and torn. I loved him and didn’t want to lose him.

“We can wait until you are sure,” I continued, dreading his response.

“I don’t know if I'll ever be ready. Hell, I’m not sure I even want kids. I know you do, though, and that you're getting to the age that it might be getting harder to conceive. I don’t want to stop you from having a family . . . so I think we should break up, Cassandra."

He was dead serious.

“Break up?” I cried. “Yes, Paul, I do want kids but I don’t want to lose you! Can't we talk about this? I’m sure I'll be fine if I don’t end up being a mum. Can't we compromise somehow?”

“No,” he said sternly. “The honest truth is, I don’t think I even love you anymore. I don't want to spend the rest of my life with you."

It was a knife in my heart. The shock nearly floored me. I was crying now, an uncontrollable reaction to this unthinkable statement. What had just happened? Had he just dumped me? This was like a nightmare! If it had been building up and I could see the tell-tale signs, maybe it wouldn’t have come as such a blow. But I honestly could not think of a single reason, not one little hint, that foreshadowed Paul's words.

“No, I’ve made up mind. I’m sorry, but I can’t help the way I feel." With that he turned around and left me a crying heap on the couch.

I felt as if I had been punched in the stomach. It was all so sudden. I was miserable and mourned on the couch for the rest of the day. The wait was unbearable as I braced myself for him to come home and get his things.

He turned up around 5 p.m. When he saw the state I was in he came over and gave me a hug.