Beside a Dreamswept Sea (2 page)

Criminy, Suzie was in the pond behind Seascape Inn!

Did she realize this yet? That her recurring dream actually took place here?

Odd. Before three days ago, Suzie never had seen Seascape Inn or its pond, and yet she’d suffered this same nightmare for the past two years.

Agitated by the blustery wind, Tony squinted against the darkness and glimpsed the shadow of a little rowboat—the very boat he himself with his lifelong friends, Hatch and Vic, had fished from as boys. Rocking on turbulent waves, the boat dipped low, took on water. And—sweet heaven, it was empty.

“Suzie?”
Where was she?
“Suzie?” The wind tossed Tony’s words back to him. Nearing the water’s edge, he called out again and stumbled over a giant oak’s gnarled roots.

His foot stung.

Startled, he winced. Physical pain? How peculiar. It’d been half a century since he’d felt physical pain . . .

He frantically scanned the dark water. Later, he’d think about the pain. He had to find Suzie now—before it was too late.

Midway across the pond, something flashed white. Her nightgown? No. No, it wasn’t. Just froth from a wave. Fear seeped deeper, into his soul.
Where was she?

Straining harder, skimming, probing, he spotted her. Near the bow of the boat, floundering in the water, arms flailing, head bobbing between the waves.

Oh, God, she really
was
going to drown. Unlike her other dreams, this one wasn’t a near-miss warning!

He cupped his hands at his mouth. “Suzie! Hold on to the boat. I’m coming. Just hold on to the boat!”

“I can’t!” she shouted back. Swallowing in a great gulp of water, she choked.

The sound grated at his ears, tore at his heart. Why in the name of everything holy did she feel it vital to hold on to the oars? Though wooden, they wouldn’t offer enough stability in the turbulent water to keep her afloat. Still, she held them in a death grip.

He had to find out why. Though dangerous—fear of him, in addition to the fear and panic she was suffering already, could worsen her situation dramatically—to help her, he needed to understand her rationale.

She screamed. A shattering scream that pierced his ears and reverberated in his mind. A chiseled hollow in his chest ached. Whatever the risks, damn it, he
had
to take them.

Focusing, he tapped into the child’s thoughts.

You have to get both oars in the water and keep them there, Suzie.

Not her voice. A memory. Something she’d been told by a woman. Someone older—twenties or thirties maybe. And that accent—definitely not anyone from Sea Haven Village, or from Maine. Southern. Distinctly Southern.

The child took a wave full in the face, sputtered, then coughed.

He hurried toward her, resenting that in her dreams he obviously lacked his special gifts, his abilities and talents with the physical, that would allow him to fish her out without getting so much as a toe wet. In dreams, it appeared he was as weak or as strong as a normal man. And while at times he’d love to again be a normal man, when Suzie was clinging to life by an oar wasn’t one of them.

What did it all mean?

He returned his cupped hands to his mouth. “Suzie, let go of that oar right now and grab hold of the boat. Do it! Do you hear me? Do it!”

Her wet hair swept over her face and clung to her tiny cheek in a clump, her eyes wild with fear. “I’ve got to keep both oars in the water! I’ve got to, or I’m not gonna get better.”

This was new ground, and Tony waffled on what to do. His heart told him to go get her. His logic warned if he touched her, with her body temperature as low as it surely was already from the frigid water, the cold could result in pneumonia and she’d die. But if he didn’t physically get her out of the pond quickly, she’d die, too. Simply put, he was in a lose/lose situation here. Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.

He had years of experience. He just had to not panic. Had to think about this. He cleared his mind, then weighed the pros and cons, mentally searching for alternatives less risky to Suzie.

There were none.

He hated any but win/win situations, yet the core in this one rested right where it had before he’d begun his search: She had a fighting chance with pneumonia. She didn’t with drowning.

Tony dove in. Hit the frigid water that sucked out his breath, then stroked furiously toward her.

The lack of true physical exercise for too many years had him winded and tiring quickly. Soon, his arms and legs felt like lead and he couldn’t seem to get enough air to feed his starving lungs. They throbbed and ached, and the physical sensations of weight and gravity and oxygen deprivation had him sluggish, tired, moving about as quickly as a hypothyroid snail. Without his special gifts, could he get to her in time?

“Please, don’t let her die. Please, help me help her.” She was so close. So close . . .
“Please!”

He dug deep, scraped the remnants of his reserves and pulled a mighty stroke.

His fingers snagged the collar of her nightgown.

He tugged, grabbed her more securely with his left hand, the boat with his right, then curled her tiny body to his and hugged her to him. She latched her arms around his neck, squeezed so hard he sensed she was trying to crawl into him. And then she began to cry. Deep, heart-wrenching sobs that jerked viciously at his heartstrings. “Shhh, it’s okay, little one. I’ve got you now. I’ve got you now.”

She breathed against his neck, her voice a rattled whimper of sound. “Promise?”

This crisis, she’d weathered. This time, she’d survived. Awash in gratitude and relief, he swallowed hard. “I promise.”

Water swirled, tugging at his clothes. Awareness stole into him and he recalled stubbing his toe on the gnarled oak’s root. His foot actually had stung. And now, more awareness of the physical dragged at him. Her moist, warm breath at his shoulder. Cold as she was from the frigid water, the warmth of her tiny body. The feel of her fingers digging into his neck. His own need for oxygen, for rest. The weight of his uniform. Sensations.

Lifelike . . . sensations.

His hands began to shake. Awed, humbled, he shook all over. He’d not felt any physical sensations since he’d returned home from the battlefield for burial back in World War II and, because he hadn’t, now he couldn’t be sure which of them, he or Suzie, groped with greater emotional turmoil.

She was alive.

And, for the first time in half a century, he was feeling the actual touch of another human being.

His eyes stung and a tear—a tear—slid onto his cheek.

An uneasy niggle nagged at him. He’d been in many situations in the past fifty years and had felt nothing physical. So why now? True, he’d never before entered anyone’s dreams—and he fully expected to pay a steep penalty for trespassing into Suzie’s now—but there had to be some deeper reason for this. His sixth sense screamed it. And it screamed that something about these particular “special guests” made this intercession, and their situation, different from the hundreds of other special guests he and Hattie had assisted at Seascape Inn.

Suzie wheezed. Feeling the rattle against his chest, he prayed Seascape would protect her from almost certain pneumonia. Over the years, many had called the inn the Healing House, and how fervently he hoped its reputation proved prophetic for Suzie.

These special guests are different.
A woman’s voice echoed through his mind.
This situation is different.

She sounded urgent, yet calm and dispassionate. Who was she?

Who I am doesn’t matter. My message is what is important, Tony.

Why?

You’ll have to find the answer to that yourself, I’m afraid.

I see.

No, you don’t. That’s part of the problem. But you will, Tony. I’m rather, er, persistent.

Just what he needed. Another stubborn woman to contend with.
Well, I’ll have to figure it out later. Right now, I need to get Suzie out of this water and wind before she freezes to death.

Ah, I’m encouraged.
The woman sighed.

Excuse me?
Kicking his feet, he steered toward the shore, holding on to Suzie and the boat for fear his strength would fizzle.

You’re mired in a quandary yet still putting Suzie’s needs first. I’m encouraged by that. And, yes, I expect you will figure it out—eventually.

Terrific. Stubborn and snooty. A barrel of sunshine.
I’m encouraged that you’re encouraged.

Save your sarcasm, Tony.
The woman laughed, soft and melodious.
You’re going to need your energy.

He wanted to kick something. Actually, he wanted to kick “Sunshine.” Wicked of him, but did she have to be right about the energy bit, too? His muscles were in distress; he didn’t have the energy for this verbal sparring—or the time for it. Not right now. Suzie had stopped crying, but she still clung to him as if she feared he’d forget and let go of her. He’d promised, but promises didn’t hold much value to Suzie Richards; that much was evident. At least not those aside from her father’s. In the chaos of what had been their family life, Bryce somehow had retained his children’s trust. That in itself, considering the circumstances, was a miracle.

To reassure her, Tony smoothed her frail back until her shudders eased. When they subsided, though vain, a sense of satisfaction joined those of relief and gratitude inside him. He’d catch hell for breaking protocol, but feeling Suzie inhaling and exhaling breath made whatever price he had to pay worth it. The last thing she needed was more tragedy in her life. It wouldn’t do Bryce any good, either. The man had suffered his share of challenges and then some.

Unfortunately, from all appearances, he was fated to suffer a few more, but at least those challenges wouldn’t include the death of his oldest daughter.

They might,
Sunshine commented.

Tony’s skin crawled.
Not if there’s any way in the world for me to stop it.

You might want to recant that statement, Anthony Freeport.

No way.

We’ll see.

A shiver rippled up his backbone. Images raced through his mind. Images of Suzie again in the little boat, trying to do something with the paddles and falling into the pond. Images of her in the water during a storm, gasping. Drowning. And images of Tony standing alone on the shore, his hands hanging loosely at his sides, his shoulders slumped, watching and yet powerless to help her.

Powerless?
Shock streaked through him. But he’d never before been powerless here. Never . . .

Until now.

Sunshine’s softly spoken warning thundered through his mind. His
knees
collapsed. He locked them, stumbling and shuddering hard. God help them all.

This wasn’t an ordinary dream.