Dreamscape (24 page)

Both Lanie and Jason made to dash then paused briefly to look at each other. They were both doctors and both instantly acted upon the call for help. Jason said, “Will you come?”

Nodding, she replied, “My bag is upstairs. I’ll hurry.”

“I’ll meet you at the front gate.” He called to Patrick, “Patrick, ready the buggy, hurry!” Jason watched Lanie scurry up the walkway. He turned to his cook and said gently, “Take yourself inside, Millie, you’ve helped all you can by hurrying home. Tell Addy I said to pour you a sherry or a sleeping draught if you need stronger, and then you rest. We’ll find our own dinner tonight.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” She wiped her tears, taking her soft sobs into the house with her.

Breathless from the stairs, Lanie met him at the gate with her black doctor’s bag in hand.

They made it to the town square in record time. Jason heard, “Oh thank
God
, Doctor Bowen’s here!” A man called from somewhere in the crowd, “Doctor here, come quick!” Still another cried, “Dear heaven, save her.” A woman shrieked, “Help, he’s bleeding!” Pulling his tourniquet from his bag, Jason ran there.

Lanie didn’t need direction. She hurried to the side of a dirty and torn woman cradling an unconscious man’s head in her lap. The poor woman wailed, “Save my Johnnie, dear God, save my husband.”

She’d arrived too late. The man was already gone. “He’s gone. I’m so sorry. There’s nothing more I can do.”

Lanie and Jason spilt up, each barking orders and organizing a makeshift triage. In the end, four had died in the rubble, one would undoubtedly die by nightfall, and several others were treated for broken bones, concussed skulls, cuts, scrapes, and abrasions. Addy and Patrick had come with a basket of spirits, medicinals, and bandages. With no more to be done there, Jason and Lanie packed their bags and returned to the house, leaving the housekeeper and coach boy to talk with various friends who needed to unload the emotional burden of witnessing the store front’s collapse.

Filthy with dirt and gore, the weary pair decided it better to enter through the back door and in so doing walked past the open dining room window and discovered a conversation Jason was never meant to hear. He held up his hand. Lanie stopped and listened with him.

Bertha was talking. “You make a decent egg, Cathy, but didn’t we just have eggs with our breakfast?”

“Yes, well, Mrs. Boatwright is sleeping. It’s the best
I
can do.”

Bertha dismissed the words. “Yes, I know that. I was standing there when young Patrick said Jason sent her to bed. I don’t understand why she couldn’t have prepared something beforehand.”

Richard’s tone was exasperated. “For goodness sake, Bertie. For the last time, be glad there are eggs to eat.”

Bertha harrumphed. “Yes, yes I remember how many times we went hungry after Mama and Papa died and the bank took it all. Don’t think I’d ever forget. I’ll wager these northerners never went without like we did. Really, Cathy, your eggs are perfect. Still, the cook might have prepared a ham. I mean how much effort would that have taken? They practically cook themselves…”

“Put it to rest,” Richard said wearily. “We have more important matters to discuss while the house is empty and the cook sleeps soundly upstairs.”

Bertha said offhandedly, “Well, yes we do. And something troubles me.”

Cathy asked, “What’s troubling you?”

“Is it necessary to
kill
him?”

“Of course it is. How else do we inherit all?” Cathy told her, her irritation plain.

Bertha was tempted to point out Lanie as a possible source of income. Instead she said, “I told you from the start it was a bad idea.”

Cathy bit the words, “Do you think this has been easy on me?”

Bertha scoffed. “Fiddle-faddle, Cathy, I
imagine
so. I for one don’t know how
you
stayed out of his bed. He has to be the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes upon. I find him charming and…”

Cathy cut in, “Have
you
lost your senses? Are you honestly under the impression that lusting for that man has been the difficulty?” Her next words were cool. “It’s Richard that I love, that I’ve always loved. Jason Bowen is a
means
to an
end
.”

Bertha’s tone was angry. “
I
should have been the one to marry Jason.
Not
you. I told you both from the start.”

“Yes, Bertie, we all know you’re sweet on the Yankee,” Richard chided gently. “He never would have had you, dear. Nettie was our only hope.”

The sound of a fork clanking against china followed. “What are you saying to me, Richard? If given Cathy’s chance, I could have
made
him love me.” Her voice cracked. “
I
should have married Jason,” she spit at Cathy, her emotional voice holding an edge. “
I
would have convinced him to buy Magnolia Hill from the bank, Cathy.
I
wouldn’t
have
to kill him. Isn’t it bad enough you and Richard killed his father? He was a nice old man. He reminded me of Papa in many ways.”

Lanie’s gaze flew to Jason’s face. Even in the dark couldn’t hide the pain and rage painting his features. She put her arms around his waist. He was trembling.

* * * *

Lanie woke to the sound of a circular saw whirring away under her window. Still groggy, she assessed—no headache as far as she could tell.
Ugh, margaritas.
Her mouth felt like a Chihuahua had done its business in there. She’d only had a few drinks before they went right to her head. Having never really been much of a drinker, not even in her college party days, alcohol always seemed to hit her hard. She winced. That was the point. She wanted to be hit hard. She wanted to forget about Jason for a while.
Jason.
Her eyes got large. She dreamt she’d overheard his wife and her cousins talking about killing him!

Getting up too fast, she felt a little queasy. A quick shower and a few aspirin later, she felt human enough to call Lexie.

“Hi, I’m
so
sorry, Lex. Yes, you
are
a saint. I know I don’t
have
to apologize, but I am. You’re where?” Lanie laughed, went to the window, and waved. “I’ll be right down.” Her car was pulling into the drive as they spoke.

“Jason?” Lanie looked around the room. He sometimes appeared if she called him, but he didn’t this time. “Jason?” she repeated, “I have to talk to you about something. I have a question to ask you.”

Jason wasn’t upstairs where he might have heard her, he was in the study looking up at the restored painting of himself and his father.

They killed him. This good gentle man, they killed him, too.
Jason wiped his eyes. “I didn’t know, Father. God help me, I didn’t know.”

The story he’d been told was his father had intended to visit the Atlanta mill he was investing in. Somewhere between his hotel and the mill, his rented horse spooked, knocking him to the ground where he presumably died from his head injury.

Jason frowned darkly. He had been with the charming and lovely Cathy that morning. She’d been so quick to offer him comfort. Despondent over his father’s death, it was comfort he sorely needed. Completely ensnared by her performance, a week later he proposed.

Hearing the door open, Jason evaporated on the spot.

Lanie suggested, “You can spread your papers out in here, Lex, the desktop is mostly bare. Hey, I didn’t tell you… Betty Turnbole brought the portrait yesterday. I can’t believe the job she did. You’d never know it was torn.”

“I told you. She’s a pro.” Lexie set the crate-sized box with her purse and several accordion folders on the large secretary. “What did she charge? I was pretty sure it wouldn’t be much because the portrait itself was intact…”

“Three-hundred seventy-five. A real bargain. But I would have paid more. Look what she did, not only did she cut the painting down so the tear is completely out of the picture—no pun intended—she also matted it in complimenting colors. I never would have thought about trimming the painting down and matting. I thought she’d be taping it or something.”

Lexie looked up at the painting of Jackson and Jason Bowen, father and son. What a handsome pair of men they were. Jason also made quite a handsome ghost.

“What did Jason say when he saw it?”

Lanie looked at her friend. “You did see him. I thought I dreamt it.”

“Oh no, I saw him all right. I even spoke with him. And I’m sorry for ever thinking you were nuts.”

Lanie grinned. “You thought I was crazy?”

Lexie nodded, trying to keep a straight face.

“And to think all these years I thought you believed me.” Her smile widened.

“Oh no, don’t get me wrong, I knew you were dreaming all this. I just thought the dream stuff since you moved in was happening because you were exhausting yourself every day.”

That made sense. The mind could do funny things when overtired. Redirecting, Lanie admitted, “I’m glad he showed himself. There was a while there where
I
thought I was nuts.” Thinking it odd Lexie wasn’t gushing over the minutia of her conversation with the spirit world, Lanie fished for details. “I’m sure he’d love talking to you. He’s interested in everything. He’s a very intelligent man, and I know he’d be interested in what you’ve brought.”

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

Hmm.
Lanie called him again. “Jason, are you there?” She frowned. “He usually appears right away.”

Anticipating the conversation to come, Lexie took a deep breath. The part she discussed with herself on the ride over. In the end she had determined matter-of-fact and to the point was the way to say it. “He won’t appear anymore, sweetie.” By what he said last night, it wasn’t exactly a lie.

Lanie blinked. “What do you mean?”

“He’s gone. He knows there’s no future in your loving him.” Seeing the pain on her friend’s face, she added, “I’m sorry.”

Lanie’s eyes filled with tears. She shook her head but inside she already knew. “Lex, he can’t be gone…”

Lexie folded Lanie into her arms. “He told me he was leaving, for both your sakes. He said there was no future in your loving him.”

Lanie’s grief spilled unchecked. “But I
do
love him…”

Lexie patted her friend’s back. Over Lanie’s shoulder, Jason briefly appeared, letting Lexie know he was in the room. He looked positively grief stricken. “He knows, sweetie, he knows.”

Chapter 20

While the framework of the coach house addition was being built just outside the window, the two friends pored through photocopies of microfiche and tax records and an array of yellowed newspaper clippings tucked inside clear plastic sleeves.

Because she was feeling emotionally drained, Lanie’s thoughts periodically drifted off. When had her dreams become so real? She could barely account for loving Jason’s ghost because, for the most part, their interactions had been in her dreams. And when did being an observer to that time turn into full interaction with the people there? Last night she dreamt Jason made love to her again, made love to her with all the detail her subconscious mind could come up with despite the fact she had no personal experience.

Feeling suddenly warm, she rose and went to look out at the progress in the yard. It was breezy today. The flowers were in full bloom, and the breeze coming in through the window was redolent with roses and the scent of fresh-cut pine lumber Zack and company had just raised another wall frame. The whole addition was going up fast. She watched the men, most were bare-chested and lightly sweating. An image of Jason’s body pinning her to the wall danced before her eyes, his arms and chest covered in the same fine sheen of exertion. He was gone from here now. Did that mean her dreams would end as well?

By late afternoon Lexie and Lanie had uncovered two tax records, two census records, a social column highlighting the happy announcement of Jason’s birth, and a small array of accountings of no importance such as receipts and prescriptions of medicines either Jason or his father had written their patients.

Referencing her assistant at the Cedar Falls Historical Society, Lexie tapped the stack. “I had Jennie do some double checking for me at the HS. Do you know, excluding the tax and census records, the rest of the paperwork we’ve sorted came from Jason’s Aunt Celia? She willed her scrapbooks to the museum with the stipulation that any and all information would be available to anyone who cared to see it. I’d say the woman was obviously suspicious of her nephew’s wife. She wanted someone to discover what happened to him even if that discovery came after her own death.”

Lexie thought Jason might find
that
interesting, too.