Shadowed Dreams & Rippled Water

Stirring Memories

Chapter 16

Stirring Memories

I shifted from Dad’s recliner to the couch, cuddled up with all the cushions, and processed every little detail from my dream, as Mum had asked. I envisioned words, actions, and all the scenes I had moved through—the river and the white room. The scenes and sounds started to become brighter.

Then, a memory from deep inside clawed to the surface. I saw an elderly grey-haired woman standing in the kaleidoscope river. She scoured at me with dark brown eyes, wrinkling the deep lines etched into her fair-featured face. Her dress was straight, dull grey, and reached her ankles. She smelt like vanilla and never smiled.

I saw a scene play out before us—a river, the echoing snap of a steel cable, the blood-curdling screams of passengers, and the face of a tiny blonde-haired girl crying for help. I saw Dad climbing out of his car to save her. I saw the ferry go under the water… and everything disappeared. I clung tight to a couch cushion as the vision came in hard and clear, hitting the inside of my brain like a terrible storm.

I winced at the growing ache, rubbing my temples. “The dream of Dad’s death was a vision…”

I had dreamt this for a week or more before Dad’s accident. I told my parents but never knew if they considered it real. More and more, I realised what Kane had said had to be true. Everything pointed to one possibility: I was psychic or, at the least, sensitive to the world around me.

“Psychic...? But things like that are fiction.” I buried my face into a cushion. How long had Mum known about this? How long had I been having these visions? Mum had to know. “That has to be why she wants to talk about my nightmare.”

“What nightmare, Lucy lady?”

Startled, I pulled the cushion away to see Dean stretching his arms up against the arch of the living room doorway, filling the room with his spicey deodorant.

My heart skipped a beat. “You scared the living life out of me,” I panted, trying to settle my heart.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he smiled sideways, his eyes twinkling like the brightest stars.

He leapt over the arm of the couch and settled beside me. He was dressed in grey sweatpants and a hooded jumper. This was not his usual attire and a downgrade from his shirts and jeans. But his kind, handsome smile made it all irrelevant.

“Were you talking to yourself when I walked in?” he asked, hanging his arm over the back of the chair.

“I had another nightmare...” I sniffled, leaning my head against his chest. “This time, I saw the worst thing imaginable and—” I trailed off, unable to fight the tears a moment longer. I covered my hands over my face and cried.

Dean moved his arm from the couch and pulled me tighter into him. “It’s alright, Luce… You’re allowed to cry.”

“I don’t think anything will be alright, not now.” I sobbed.

“Listen to me, Lady Lucy,” Dean said in a soft tone that soothed me. He sat back and tilted my chin towards him. “Don’t hide behind the beauty of your eyes. Tell me what’s wrong.” His gaze burned so intensely into mine.

He exhaled a deep breath, then kissed my forehead. A flutter erupted in my stomach, warming my entire body. I tried to push the thought of it away, but it stubbornly persisted.

“You had another nightmare about Stacey, didn’t you?” He asked, running the back of his hand over my wet cheeks, wiping away the tears.

“Yes, but this time I-I saw her die in front of my own eyes,” I admitted, the words flowing unabashedly. Only Dean could open the verbal floodgates, which he had always managed to do. “Not just that, Dad spoke to me. He told me that I have a gift… that my dreams are visions… And Stacey would die on June eighth…”

Dean tensed under me. His heart raced so fast it vibrated like a hammer against my arm. There was a strange expression in his eyes—a look of curiosity mixed with fear and worry. Something deeper lingered there, but I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was.

“What is it?” I demanded.

He held both my hands, brushing his fingers across my knuckles. “Look, I shouldn’t be the one to tell you this—”

“Tell me what?”

“Well,” he pondered momentarily, his eyebrows pinching together. “Did you tell Mum about it?”

“Not yet.” I shook my head, then shrugged. “Well, not all of it, anyway. She’s coming home tonight so that we can talk… She wants to tell me the truth about something…”

Again, Dean’s entire body tensed. “Well…” he cleared his throat. “Dad was telling you the truth. Your dreams are not ordinary...”

“I know…” I admitted.

“What else did Mum want to talk to you about?” He asked, looking me up and down.

“I don’t know,” I added. “But maybe she can tell me who this grey-haired woman I saw is… She was there during the vision about Dad’s accident.”

“You remember her?” His face darkened, and his pupils grew large. “You haven’t mentioned her in over a year.”

“I remember everything about her,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “At first, I could only remember the dream about Dad’s accident, but just before, while I was trying to understand what Dad had told me, I saw her… I felt the memory of this lady.”

“Wow...” He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. “When you were younger, you mentioned the grey-haired lady a few times.”

“No...” I half laughed. “If I had, I would remember it.”

“Lucy lady, we don’t always remember things from our childhood,” his eyes and words softened towards me. “When you were five, you had a nightmare in which a grey-haired lady warned you that our dog Pepper was going to be hit by a car. Do you remember?”

“No, I don’t remember ever owning a dog.” My mouth gaped, and I dropped back against him, shaking my head. “A dog?”

Dean draped an arm over my shoulder and leaned his head against mine. “When you were five, Dad brought home a black and tan mixed-breed dog,” he explained. “He was a cute puppy with big brown eyes and the floppiest black ears I had ever seen. He was so clumsy he fell over his feet. And he chased his tail whenever someone made a loud noise.”

I thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t remember a dog.”

Dean teased my thick hair, running his fingers through it. I closed my eyes and listened to his beating heart.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you don’t remember.” He shrugged, the ripple of his muscles brushing against me. “I’ll never forget the day you woke up screaming: ‘Pepper’s going to get run over.’ It had everyone on edge, searching for him. We found him dead by the front gate. A hit and run…”

“I do remember!” I gasped, bolting upright, almost knocking my head against his. “I remember having a nightmare about seeing Pep’s by the side of the road and – and an old grey-haired lady telling me to wake up… he only had an hour left!”

“Yeah, that’s right,” he eyed me cautiously. “Pep’s was your nickname for him.”

“But why am I only remembering this now?” I asked as a wave of panic washed over me. “What is wrong with me?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you…” He said, brushing my hair back over my shoulder.

“Does this mean I’m psychic?” I interrupted, my entire body quivering at the idea. “Because I saw Pepper die than he did. I saw Dad die, and he did. I saw Stacey die… does that mean she will?” I winced at my question, already knowing the answer.

“If you saw it...” Dean trailed off, cuddling into me. Here, in his embrace, I was safe and protected. “I don’t want her to. No one does...”

“It’s wrong! Stacey’s too young to die!” I cried.

Dean said nothing as he wrapped his arms around me and held me until my eyes hurt and the tears had dried up.

“In time, things will be okay,” I overheard him whisper as the exhaustion won.

My sleep must have been peaceful, for I awoke without the remnants of a dream in my mind for the first time since Stacey got sick. I glanced up to see Dean had fallen asleep, with his arm still wrapped around me. He was lightly snoring. It was calming, and I liked it. I could have stayed there, forgetting my troubles even for a day.

“Lucy,” Valery whispered, peering in through the archway. “It’s nearly lunchtime. Maybe you should shower and have something to eat.”

The idea of a shower sounded good, even if I wanted to stay in Dean’s embrace. I carefully lifted his arm over me and slipped out.

“Mmmm, what are you doing, Lucy lady?” he yawned, still half asleep, and brushed a hand down my arm. “I was comfortable.”

“Lucy has a few things to do,” Valery replied, her words so sharp they sliced through us. “If you must know...”

Glaring coolly at Dean, she crossed her arms over her chest. I had never seen her so annoyed before. It was odd. I peered back at Dean. He smiled and ran his hand over my cheek. Was he enjoying seeing her this way?

“Lucy, can you please excuse us?” she asked, still narrowing her gaze towards Dean.

“Um, a-alright,” I stammered, climbing to my feet. Dean’s fingers slipped down the sliver of bare skin on my lower back, sending a rush of fire through me, warming something inside that made my stomach clench.

“You better go, Lucy. I think Val and I should talk,” Dean suggested, getting to his feet behind me. “You don’t need to be here for this...”

“Okay, Dean.” I nodded and quickly left.

I hurried to my room and caught my breath, that warmth rising to my chest. Why did his touch do that to me? It was so wrong! I pushed the thoughts of Dean’s touch away, showered, ate a quick lunch, and spent the next half-hour relaxing in my bed, trying not to think about it. I glanced over at the time, and it was only twelve thirty. I had only been asleep in Dean’s arms for less than an hour, but it had been so comfortable it had felt longer.

“Lucy, I have homemade pikelets for an afternoon snack if you’re hungry,” Valery called, holding a tray through the doorway. “A family recipe…”

My tastebuds danced at the scent of honey and jam.

Valery sat them on my bedside table with a glass of juice and smiled at me. “Eat up, darling. It might bring back the colour in your cheeks.” She kissed my forehead like Mum usually did and left the room.

I wasn’t used to her treating me so motherly in a way that wasn’t smothering.

Even though the smell was divine, I wasn’t hungry, so I picked at small pieces, leaving half of what had been stacked on the plate, my stomach groaning in objection to more food.

Another few hours passed, and boredom and panic settled in. I had memorised everything from the dream and what Dad had told me, and now it was haunting me, taunting me with the knowledge of Stacey’s future—of her death.

I needed a distraction, so I decided the best way was to call Lorrie. She had an amazing talent for talking, which meant I had no time to think about the visions or anything else.

I headed into the living room, grabbed the phone and dialled her number. It rang a few times, then went straight to the message bank. ‘Hi, you’ve reached the Snider’s mini mansion. No one is here to take your call right now, so please leave a message, and we’ll get back to you.’

I left a quick message for Lorrie to call back and hung up. Unsure how else to pass the time, I decided to call my other friends, Candy and Leticia. I had known Lorrie my entire life, but Candy… or Candace... had arrived halfway through middle school. Leticia arrived a month later, and the four of us were inseparable.

I tried Candy, but no one answered, so I called Leticia. I could only get through to her mother.

“Sorry, Lucy, like, you just missed her,” Carol said with a slight slur to her words. “I, like, promise to get her to call you back as soon as she gets home.”

“Thanks, Mrs Jones, bye,” I replied, hanging up.

I sat at my dressing table, thrumming my fingers against it. It had been a year since I had played the piano—since Dad’s death—but I knew all the tunes I had learned by heart. Stacey enjoyed the days I practised the piano with Mr Tomlinson. She would dance to the melody and make Mr Tomlinson laugh. That was the only time I enjoyed playing, but that faded after Dad’s death. It had been months since I had looked at the ivory keys. I continued tapping my fingers to a beat, drowning out the dreams and other thoughts—thoughts about Dean that made my inner thighs tingle.

When I finally finished the food, I flipped through my homework, closed it again and cleaned my room. No one had come to check on me or ask if I was okay. I half expected to see Dean and find out what Valery had said to him, but he kept away.

The sun had set behind the trees, casting a gloomy shadow over my bedroom. Mum still hadn’t come home, and as far as I knew, there had been no phone call either. Biting down on my bottom lip, I paced my room until I was sure I had worn a path in the rug. I needed to tell her everything. Finally, Mum’s car rolled up the driveway. She parked close to the house instead of under the row of mallee trees further away.

“Lucy lady, Mum’s home,” Dean called.

I sprinted out of the room and down the stairs past him. He moved out of my way, laughter following me to the front room. Red-eyed and limping on her left leg, Mum staggered through the door as I skidded to a stop by the old piano.

“Oh, darling, please take these bags to the kitchen,” she said, handing me two tightly filled shopping bags.

“Sure,” I replied, carrying them into the kitchen.

I stacked the shopping on the table, and Dean loaded it into the fridge and the pantry.

“Lucy, can I please see you in the living room, sweetie?” Mum asked, almost out of breath as she exited the kitchen.

“Okay, Mum.” I followed right behind her.

Each step she took made her wince. She collapsed into her chair and breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, those hospital chairs are so uncomfortable.” Her bloodshot eyes were only open enough to see the bottom half of her pupils. “It’s good to be home.”

“What did you want to talk to me about?” I asked, sitting by her feet. I folded my legs up under me. “Was it about my nightmares?”

Breathing deeply, she laid her head back on the chair. “Just wait, Lucy. I’ve had a freight train running through my head all day. Every part of me aches in ways I’ve never known before.”

Val stepped into the room carrying two cups of steaming coffee and placed them on the coffee table beside Mum’s chair. “Drink up, Kaleen. You look like you need a caffeine fix.” Taking her mug, she slipped into the couch. “I made it extra strong for you.”

“Thanks, Val,” Mum reached across slowly and picked up the mug. Cupping it in her hands, she stared down at me and studied my concerned face. “Tell me in full detail what your dream was about. Don’t leave out anything…”

Wide-eyed and suddenly pale, Val slumped forward in her chair and gasped. “Dream?” The cup in her hand trembled. “Is this the one from yesterday… The one about Stacey?”

“Yes, it is…” I admitted, climbing to my feet. “I wanted to speak to Mum about it.” I perched against the arm of the couch and closed my eyes. Everything I had seen, felt, smelt and heard came back to me all over again.

“Lucy, please tell me everything,” Mum urged.