He turned his head a bit more, afraid to move too much in case he might wake up. The book Grace was skimming through had thick ivory pages filled with calligraphy and tiny watercolors. The page she was studying showed a green plant with a cluster of red berries dangling above it. Was it a dream, or was he really in—
“Heaven,” he croaked. “The books are handwritten in heaven then?”
“Oh!” Grace pushed herself up onto her knees beside him, the surprised look on her face changing to a lovely smile. “You’re awake. Finally!”
“Awake. No. Dreaming.” He blinked at her, expecting to see wings sprout from her back at any moment, or for everything to swirl into a kaleidoscopic delirium.
“You’re not dreaming.” She was emphatic about this point. “But you need to drink some water. And eat something.”
