Nobody's Dream (48 page)

Cassie could relate to the anger and even grief, only she mourned the loss of herself.

If only she was not so restless tonight. When would she learn about the fate of her home? Lucas said the dispatcher had no news about her section of the mountain because their crews were focused on more populated areas first and knew she had been safely evacuated. She did not blame them. Possessions and houses could be replaced.

Cassie scanned the room and found it rather sparse. No knickknacks cluttered the space. The furnishings gave it a homespun, rustic appearance. Someone had handmade the dust cloths and doilies on the backs of the sofa and chairs. The old-fashioned tatting was something rare these days, a lost art. Her grandmother had tatted, but Cassie and her mother had not shown any interest in being taught how to carry on that fine skill. Regrettable, because Cassie might have been able to use the technique in some of her fiber-art pieces, but she would just have to make do without that knowledge since her grandmother had passed over many years ago.

Surely there was something here that would occupy her mind—or help her go back to sleep. Her gaze returned to the bookshelf where a small tome with a well-worn cover nearly jumped out at her. She had not noticed it before, but lying horizontally on top of the lower shelf of books was a copy of
The Secret.
She pulled the small volume from the shelf and stared at the cover a moment. She had heard of the fairly recent book before, although the philosophy was nothing new.

Like attracts like. Positive thoughts lead to positive outcomes in your life. She did not need a book to tell her how thoughts manifested into vibrations that would come back to bite her in the backside unless she made her originating thoughts more positive.

Knowing the book would not delve too deeply, she decided to read it a while as she waited for sleep to return. Then she noticed a book about one of the techniques she had been studying in fiber arts—
Shibori
. Excited, she pulled the book out and opened it only to find herself staring at images of women tied in elaborate rope bondage. She closed the book and looked at the title again. Shi
bar
i, not Shi
bor
i. The two-toned cover looked like a scientific journal or textbook, not a book filled with pornographic images.

And yet something made her open the book again. In truth, the images were not obscene, but artistic. The intricate designs used in binding and sometimes suspending the women were beautiful. Was this an art form Lucas dabbled in or wanted to explore? How could something so beautiful be used to subjugate women?

And yet the peaceful-looking women in the photos seemed more enraptured than vanquished.

A key turned in the door, and Cassie slammed the book shut and crammed it back into the bookshelf as Lucas walked into the room. She stood to face him, heat rising in her face even before his gaze zeroed in on her and roamed up and down her body. She trembled, feeling for the first time the cool air on her bare legs.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. I saw the light on and wanted to make sure you were okay. Do you need anything?”

Just to be left alone.

She’d kicked the man out of his home and bed. The least she could do is show some gratitude.

“I am fine. I woke up and am having trouble going back to sleep.” She fought the urge to run to the sofa and drag the afghan off the armrest to hide her body from his scrutiny. Why did he continue to stare at her like that?

“But I am headed back to bed now. Just wanted to find something to read.” She realized she held no book in her hand. At his puzzled expression, she quickly turned to the bookshelf and grabbed
The Secret
, triumphantly showing him her selection. Nothing to be embarrassed about with this reading material.

He grinned. Had he seen the book she had been looking at when he entered the house? Mortified, she moved away from the bookcase.

“I can make you some cocoa or warm milk, darlin’. Always helps me sleep.”

“No, thanks.” The only thing that was going to relax her was putting distance between them. The man left her…unsettled. She put her feet in motion in the direction of the bedroom, but something drew her up short before making her escape. “It is awfully early. You should be sleeping, too.”

He shrugged and averted her gaze. “Sleep doesn’t come sometimes. Your past comes back to haunt you when you’re at your weakest—sleeping.”

You do not have to tell me.

For the first time, she noticed the haunted expression in his eyes. After all he had done for her, the least she could do was spend some time talking with him until he was ready to go back to bed in the studio or barn or wherever he slept. Her own chances of sleeping would elude her this night anyway.

“On second thought, cocoa sounds delicious.”

When he smiled in her direction, she hoped she had not made a mistake. He turned toward the kitchen before she could change her mind. “I’ll put the milk on.”

Cassie drew in a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves before grabbing the afghan and following him. She placed the book on the table. A manual for communicating with this man might have been more beneficial at the moment.

Taking her seat, she watched him work. Lucas knew his way around a kitchen. No surprise. He had been on his own a long time apparently. He had above-average survival skills when it came to providing for his needs—his physical ones, at least.

Do
not
think about Lucas’s physical needs.

She returned her focus to the cocoa. Kitty had introduced her to instant cocoa on those cold winter nights in the dorm at Columbia. They spent many nights sipping the drink while trying to keep Cassie’s monsters at bay. Poor Kitty had put up with a lot during their senior year, including nights on suicide watch debating whether she needed to take Cassie to the psych ward or if talking it out would be enough.

Do not think about those days. They are in the past.

But in Peruvian culture, cocoa was the food of the gods and even part of traditional betrothal and marriage ceremonies.

She would not think about that connotation, either, while sipping cocoa with Lucas. Here in America, it was merely a comfort drink for a restless night.

Lucas brought two mugs of steaming cocoa to the table and placed one in front of her. As far as she could tell, he did not seem to be depressed or needing anything from her other than companionship. She marveled that he seemed pretty upbeat most of the time, considering the great losses he had suffered. She glanced at the cover of
The Secret
again as she stirred the brown liquid in the mug.

“Is the bed comfortable enough, darlin’?”

She nodded as she took a sip of the too-sweet cocoa. “How about your makeshift one?”

“It’s fine. I’ve slept there many nights.”

Silence dragged out between them for a few minutes as they each seemed inordinately interested in the contents of their mugs. While Lucas seemed comfortable just sitting and sipping cocoa with her, she soon became uncomfortable with the silence—or was it his nearness?

Cassie pointed to the book. “I was surprised to find this on your bookshelf.”

“I found it a few years after Maggie died. Helped me turn things around in my life.”

Ah, so that explained how the man remained upbeat most of the time.

“What did your wife do?” She would not invite him to question her on why she suffered from insomnia, too. Perhaps talking about his wife would help bring up whatever issues were keeping him awake tonight. If he was plagued by ghosts, his wife would be front and center.

“A biology instructor at the University of Texas. Botany was her specialty. Knew everything about every plant growing in Texas.” He paused a moment. “Then she wanted to learn more about mountain ones, so we ventured up here one spring.” His voice grew softer. “Neither of us knew anything about the mountain climes.”

After a moment of watching him stare into his near-empty mug, Cassie prompted him to continue. “You must have felt very helpless.”

His chin shook almost imperceptibly before his jaw tightened. “I was her husband. I should have been able to protect her.”

Before she was aware she had moved, her hand covered the one wrapped around his mug. “Lucas, each of us is responsible for ourselves. She made the choice to put herself in that position.”

“I know. She never had any regard for her safety, but usually I foresaw the dangers and kept her from being hurt. Not that time. I had no idea that shelf was unstable. Just assumed it was a solid mountain ledge. I’ve learned since then about the dangers of permafrost melting and weakened snow masses.” He shrugged. “Back then, I was clueless about mountain conditions.”

She brushed her thumb over his knuckles, trying to comfort him but nothing she did would take away that kind of pain and regret. He needed to forgive himself. He was so much like Adam in that regard.

His gaze pierced her with his smoky-gray eyes. “Can you tell me something, Cassie?”

She hoped she would not regret this response. “I will try.”

“When Maggie came to you that day at the hospital, did she have any message for me other than what you depicted in that sketch?”

“I am sorry. I am not a psychic medium. I did not hear her speak. The image was imprinted on my mind and would not let go until I had sketched and released it. I did not even know who she was at the time.”

Luke quirked his mouth in regret and nodded.

“Is there something you want to hear from her?”

He shrugged again. “Nah. Just wondered.”

It seemed he was being less than truthful. She pulled away. “Is Maggie the reason you could not sleep tonight?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “No. I don’t dream about her anymore. Not since I was semi-conscious in your cabin. They came back then mainly because of the avalanche.”

If that was true, why would he be dwelling on Maggie tonight? She wished she could remove some of his pain. He was a good man and should not allow regrets over something out of his control to keep him from living life to the fullest.

“The accident was no one’s fault. Maggie’s destiny in this life may have been to die on that mountain, just as yours was to survive. She was a fortunate woman.”

He furrowed his brows. “What do you mean?”

“To have a man who loved her and still pines for her all these years later is a rare and special gift. Most people never find that kind of connection.”

And some, herself included, avoided any chance of allowing someone like Lucas to love them for fear of being…smothered.

But something bothered her, though. “She should not have put you in a position to have to live with this much regret.”

*     *     *

Blaming the victim?

Luke stared at her, finding no words to respond as her words sank in. He’d gone through the anger phase of guilt long ago but had been overridden with guilt afterward. Blame Maggie for her own accidental death? “She didn’t get herself killed on purpose.”

“No, but she put herself in a dangerous situation. We have to take responsibility for our actions.” A pained look flashed before her eyes before she blinked and looked down at the table.

“She’s dead.” Why was Cassie so adamant about blaming Maggie? Did she blame herself for some action she took that led to disastrous consequences, too?

Cassie continued without meeting his gaze. “Her soul did not die, only her earthly body. I am sure she continues to work from the other side to make amends for making you watch her die like that. She doesn’t want that karma to follow her for eternity.”

Luke blinked. Karma. He believed in an afterlife. Only his was the kind where you have one go-around on earth, and then go to heaven or hell. No do-overs.

“But you drew a picture of her in heaven, Cassie. Why would she have to worry about making amends for the mistakes made down here anymore? She’s home.”

“That was how you interpreted the sketch. I only drew her in the depiction of an afterlife she showed me. She probably knew you would be most comfortable picturing them in the clouds. Heaven, as you see it.”

Luke wanted to go to the bedroom and bring her the sketch to point out other heavenly symbols in the sketch. “You made her an angel.”

“Again, that is how she came to me. I just conveyed her message. You are the one who interpreted it as her being an angel. But I do not believe we humans become angels when we cross over. They are special souls who have held that designation since time began.”

Luke had never been particularly spiritual and hadn’t attended church a lot since he was in high school. “She…” He cleared his throat before he could continue. “She came to me in a dream once and told me she was sending me an angel who needed me.” Had that been Maggie trying to make amends, as Cassie said? Cassie stared back at him without responding, so he continued. “I met Angel—Angelina—the next day.”

When Cassie relaxed, he let her think the same thing he’d thought at first—that Angel was the angel Maggie was talking about.

“So that’s why you call her Angel?”

Luke grinned. “Well, it started out that way.” He hadn’t realized until a week later that Angel, while needing his and Marc’s help that night at daVinci’s, wasn’t sent for him at all. “Then the nickname stuck.”

But at the hospital waiting for news about Adam, Luke began wondering if Cassie wasn’t the angel he awaited. Her long dark hair and olive skin fit the image, but so had Angel’s. After the avalanche this spring, he became more certain than ever Maggie only meant she was sending an angel to save
his
life. He’d been the one to decide to make her his wife, but maybe that wasn’t what the stars had in mind for them at all. Was he trying to force something that wasn’t meant to be—namely having Cassie fall in love with him?

He’d also turned around and rescued her and her alpacas. So that meant the dream’s prophecy had been fulfilled. Then why was it he didn’t want things to end there with Cassie? She’d tugged at his heart since the day they met. Beautiful—inside and out. Smart. Creative. Only Cassie was a lot more than the sum of her parts. She hid her light under the thickest damned bushel basket he’d ever seen, but every now and then a beam of her inner light peeked out. Like now with her just talking to him and trying to help him sort out his feelings about the loss of his first wife.