Storm Dreamer

Chapter 4

4

The water on Tuc-el-nuit Lake rippled as a light evening wind blew across the spring-fed oasis, dropping the desert heat a few degrees. Madie sat back in her chair and breathed in the heady, intoxicating scent of magnolia blooms—a touch of cherry, lemons, with a hint of vanilla—and listened to the birds singing their evening song.

After work, she’d driven straight to her mother’s place in Oliver for a home-cooked meal. Her mom poured them lemonade from a glass pitcher on the patio table. Madie studied her mother’s profile as she handed her the glass. Her mom looked relaxed and through the course of their meal, she’d observed her smiling naturally, nothing like the forced ones she’d witnessed the past year. Her mom had lost weight over that time, which had concerned Madie. Her lean frame couldn’t afford it. But today, there was a lightness to her step and a sparkle in her blue eyes. Her blond hair had been cut into a chin-length bob, which added fullness to her face and accentuated her blue eyes. And she’s wearing make-up. A good sign she’s paying attention to herself.

“What?” Valerie Hayes asked.

“Huh?” Madie answered.

“You’re answering a question with a question. You’re staring at me.”

“Oh, sorry. You look good, Mom. More like your old self.”

Val smiled. “Thanks. I feel good and I guess it shows. It’s been a tough year with your dad’s passing. But the time feels right to start living again.”

“That’s good to hear you say. Grief is so devastating. But Dad would want you to be happy and make the most of your life.”

Val sighed. “On the day he passed, he made me promise to do just that. I think he knew it was his last day, even if I didn’t.” She paused and stared at the garden. “Look at my rhododendrons and the magnolia trees. Aren’t the flowers gorgeous?”

Madie glanced at the garden. “Yes, everything’s beautiful. Love the fragrant smells.” She went quiet, sensing her mother had more to say.

“You know what he said to me? He said, ‘Val, we’ve had a wonderful life together but I’m the one who’s dying, not you. It’s not your time. You have a beautiful, loving soul and I need to know you’ll be here not only for yourself but for the other people in my life. And once you feel whole again—and I know you will—please be happy. Promise me you won’t give up on the gift of life that’s still yours’.”

Madie’s eyes teared. “That’s Dad. God, I miss him.”

“He made me write it down and put it away in my jewellery box. I’d forgotten about it over the past year; probably deliberately. But I was thinking about the anniversary of his death coming up soon and it came back to me full force. We did have a wonderful life together, and he’s right, I should try to enjoy it. And I promised.”

“I’ve been concerned you’d closed yourself off from everything. I hope this means you’ll get out of the house more.”

Val laughed. “Huh! That may not be so easy with what I have in mind.” She paused a moment. “I wanted to ask your opinion on something.”

Madie was intrigued. Mom’s asking me for advice? Surprise, surprise! What’s this about? “Shoot.”

“I really don’t need all this space. Working full-time and maintaining the yard and a two-story home is too much. It was fine while I was re-adjusting to life on my own. It kept me busy. But now I’m finding it all a chore.”

“So, you’re thinking of selling and moving into something smaller?”

Her mother looked startled. “Heavens, no! I couldn’t leave my beautiful gardens or the lake. I was thinking of turning the lower level into a rental suite. I could live upstairs quite comfortably and still maintain a guestroom on the upper level for family and friends.”

“But isn’t that adding to your workload with your job and all?”

“The mortgage is paid, and with the extra income and the life insurance policy your dad left, I could afford to work part-time and be home the rest of the week to work in the gardens. I’d need to do some Renos to separate the two levels and secure my place upstairs. It wouldn’t be that hard to do. What do you think?”

“Being on the lake with a beach at the end of the property makes it a prime rental. You’d do well financially.”

“I was thinking the large rec room could accommodate a small kitchen at one end, with a breakfast bar and stools to separate it from what would be a living room. And the bathroom is large enough to put a stacked washer/dryer in.”

“Mmm … it’s doable,” Madie said, noting her mother’s exuberance and the excited sparkle in her eye. “Have you thought about moving into the lower level yourself? You’d get more money renting the upstairs and less work housework for you downstairs.”

“No. First off, more money for the larger part of the house would attract a family or a couple. I don’t think I’d like people over my head. Besides, giving up the upstairs means I’d lose my deck and the view of the lake.”

“Makes sense.” On the one hand, she was happy for her mother’s enthusiasm but, on the other, a little apprehensive about her opening her home to strangers. “You seem to have given this a lot of thought. You’ve always been a people person. If you think you could adjust to having strangers sleeping in the house, I guess it could work.”

Her mother reached out and patted her hand. “I sense your concern with me being here on my own, but I’ll take precautions. They’d be separate homes with the downstairs having no access to upstairs. The suite would only be suitable for a single person, preferably a woman. Whoever rents it would be carefully vetted. I might even be able to ask around and find a tenant through my friends, who can vouch for them. I’ve also been thinking of getting a dog as a companion. And there’s this as well: having a rental suite would add to my security. I wouldn’t be alone on the property.”

Madie relaxed. “I guess you’re right. It sounds like a great idea and if it gives you purpose, I’m all for it. And if you like, I could ask Jax Rhyder to have a look at the work involved. He’ll draw up a plan and see if you like it. He does great work and won’t stiff you either.”

“That would be great. Give him my phone number and we’ll set up an appointment. Now, let’s talk about you.”

Madie’s eyebrows shot up. “Me?”

“Yes, you. I appreciate your compliments that I look good and all, but I’m afraid I can’t reciprocate. During dinner, I sensed dis-ease. You look terrible … actually, tired.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Madie rolled her eyes. “Just what I need to hear.”

Val smiled. “A mother always knows, right? What is it, dear? Work?”

“No. I love my job at the Centre. It’s all good.”

“It must be personal then. Man trouble?”

“No, Mom. I’m not seeing anyone.”

“But you must be dating?”

“Nope.”

Her mother looked aghast. “You’re a beautiful young girl; there must be some available young men in Stoney Creek. It’s not that small.”

“I’ve been too busy with the opening year of the Centre. Dating just hasn’t been on my mind.”

“So, there’s been no one since you broke up with that nice young man, Tom, a couple of years ago? Shame, that. He was such a handsome fella, stable too.”

“Too nice. And a relationship needs more than stability.”

“Gotcha, ‘too nice’ says it all.” Val stared at her daughter. “Humph, at least I know you aren’t jumping in and out of bed for the fun of it, inside of five minutes of meeting someone.”

Madie gave a bemused smile. “Where is that coming from?”

“It’s true! I see it on television all the time. Not on cable of course but those other channels. The other night this guy walked into a bar and ordered a drink, the bartender served him and, five minutes later, they were in the wine cellar doing it up against the wall. Don’t you think—”

“Mom, are you done having this conversation with yourself? I assure you I don’t have s*x with men I’ve just met.”

Val looked contrite. “Well, I’m not saying you have to wait until marriage. I’m not that prudish. Your father and I had s*x before we married.”

“Mom … move on.”

“Okay. But don’t make me drag it out of you; tell me what’s going on.”

Madie wasn’t sure where to start. Try at the beginning? “Remember when I was a baby and I had night terrors?”

Val wrinkled her brow. “I do. I haven’t thought about them in years. Thank God they disappeared. I felt so helpless because I couldn’t do anything to make them stop. You were so terrified.”

“I don’t remember them at all.”

“Good thing, too. Your dad and I were so concerned, we took you to the doctor. What a total waste of time that was.”

Madie poured herself more lemonade. “Want some?”

“No, thanks.”

“What did they do?”

“At first, the usual rhetoric. Make sure there’re no reflections on the walls from light that might appear menacing, make sure you got plenty of sleep, stayed hydrated, stayed on a regular sleep schedule, on and on. Nothing changed, and the nightmares continued. Then they sent us to Vancouver Children’s Hospital, where they did physical exams, blood work—nothing was found. Next were the child psychologists, who examined our family’s medical history and your father’s, and our relationship. We felt like mice in a laboratory.”

Madie pondered this information. “So, then what?”

“The final test was keeping you in for an overnight study in a sleep lab. They did brain scans, placed sensors on you to record brain waves, oxygen levels, heart rate, breathing, and body movements.”

“Weird, I don’t remember any of that.”

“I can understand why you’d want to forget it. In the end, the final diagnosis: you were a sensitive child, prone to being neurotic, and eventually you’d outgrow the night terrors.”

Madie reached across the table and squeezed her mother’s hand. “I’m sorry I put you and Dad through that, Mom.”

“Honey, you got the worst of it. I could never understand how an innocent child could have such terrifying dreams. We were so relieved when you started pre-school. Once you were in school, the dreams stopped and never returned.”

Madie sipped her lemonade, deep in thought. “Did I ever give you any details about them?”

“Oh yes, I asked you about them because I thought I could relate them to your bedtime stories—or maybe something else in our lives.” Val paused. With a heavily creased brow, she asked: “Why are you asking about this now?”

Madie ignored the question. “Tell me about them.”

“They were basically about a woman—always the same woman, who was afraid of something, and sometimes a man was chasing her. You described her as a young woman with long brown hair. You didn’t know who she was. But sometimes she had ‘owies’ on her face and blood on her mouth or nose. Horrible dreams for a toddler.”

Madie’s skin tingled as she stared at her mother in silence, letting this tidbit of information sink in, then took a deep breath. “Well, I hate telling you this, but they’re back.”

Val looked confused. “They? Who’s back?”

“The nightmares. I’ve been having them for the past couple of months.”

Her mother leaned forward, wringing her hands. “Oh, no. I don’t understand. Why after all these years would they come back?”

Madie hated that she’d upset her. “I don’t know, and I’m sorry to dump this on you. But I just don’t have anyone else to talk to about this.”

“Don’t be sorry, hon. I’m glad you told me. Are you sure they’re the same dreams?”

“Well, it’s the same scenario: a young woman with long brown hair, being chased in the desert, and always the fear. Has to be the same. The real question is what you already asked. Why after all these years are they back?”

“What are you going to do?”

Madie shrugged. “I don’t know. Is there anything else you can remember about the nightmares?”

Val sighed, turning her glass around and around on the table. “One other thing. They only occurred during thunderstorms. Never during the day if you were down napping. Just after dark.”

Madie’s heart skipped. “Thunderstorms?” she asked in a whisper.

Val leaned towards her. “You’ve turned as white as a sheet. What is it?”

“Mom … my current nightmares? They only happen during thunderstorms, only this time—night or day.”