I'll See You In Your Dreams (26 page)

“I knew you were a prince,” she said slowly.

“And you have always been my princess.”

“Where am I, Charlie?”

“In the hospital. You were in a car wreck.”

A worried look crossed her face.

“No more questions about that. Doctor’s orders. We only want to talk about the good stuff until you’re totally well.”

Casey smiled. “Is that why you kissed me? To give me, good stuff.”

Charlie smiled sheepishly. “Only in my wildest dreams would I imagine you would consider my kiss good stuff, so, no, I wanted you to give me good stuff. I just got busted by you.”

“Speaking of dreams, Charlie, I had the most wonderful and horrible dream, and you were in it, Charlie!”

“Was I the wonderful or horrible part?”

“Both.”

Her eyes drooped, and she fought to keep them open.

“Rest a bit, princess. We will talk in a bit.”

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After the doctor checked her vital signs, he approached Charlie. “Looks like she’s going to be fine physically. She can go home tomorrow. Is there someone to care for her?”

“I talk to John several times a day. It doesn’t look good for their mom.”

The doctor crossed his arms and looked down.

“Stall Casey as long as you can. Patients recover better in a positive environment. When she has her strength back, she’ll have a better chance to handle the loss of her parents.”

“Okay, doc, I’ll stay at her house with her.”

When Charlie returned to Casey’s room, she seemed lost in thought. Charlie stood in the doorway. After a moment Casey slowly turned her head to Charlie. Her eyes were moist.

“They’re dead, aren’t they?” Tears rolled down her cheek.

Charlie shifted and looked down at his feet.

“It’s okay, Charlie. I’ve remembered bits and pieces of the accident. They would be here if they were alive.” Her forlorn expression broke Charlie’s heart as he knew he could not do anything but comfort her. He wondered if he should even tell her that her mom was still alive. It would most likely be false hope.

“Your father was killed instantly. Your mother is still alive, but not expected to make it. I’m so sorry. John is with her at Stanford.”

Casey said nothing, but stared at Charlie. After a long moment she said stoically and softly, “Thank you for telling me. Just leave me until tomorrow.”

Casey immediately fell into intense weeping. Charlie slowly turned towards the door to leave respectfully, as asked.

He turned back around, “Good night, Casey.”

“Good night, Colton.”

Charlie’s knees weakened after a few steps in the hall outside her room. He put his back to the wall and slid down it. This was like something in a book or a movie. She called him Colton. She mentioned her dream with him in it.

Could Casey and Anne be the same person? How could that be?  This seemed impossible, unreal. Was he dreaming now? He felt the floor, then the wall. It seemed solid enough. What the hell am I talking about?  After all Stanley and I went through, nothing should seem impossible. Maybe I’m dreaming now?

Don’t think, he told himself.

Charlie closed his eyes. He relived kissing Casey’s lips. He recalled the exact moment she had responded. He remembered a familiar smell. What was it?

It was the smell of Anne’s room.

CHAPTER FORTY

Anne returned to Fresno after making the arrangements to have Colton’s and Sam’s bodies sent back to England. She had wired her father for his help, and he arrived in two days. She had tearfully told her father everything. She knew he probably thought her mad, as in crazy. Thanks to Ludwig and the newspaper, crazy was all the rage. It didn’t take much to pick up such a label. Her story would surely land her atop the loony list.

Her father listened and made no outward judgment. He simply reminded her that, to avoid embarrassing questions, they should agree on a more mundane story. They agreed that the story was that Colton had gone to Los Angeles to have surgery. She had accompanied him, as they were engaged. This would quell the rumors already swirling through the tea parties around Fresno. They would say Sam had simply returned to England.

The story worked, and Anne lived with her parents until their deaths. She stayed in the house until her own death as Anne at age eighty-five.

Anne spent the remainder of her life looking for Colton to again magically return in some form. She spent many hours looking out her window at the train station across from her house, hoping to see him saunter out on his way to her. He never came.

She adopted every stray cat in the hope that each one might possess the magnificent soul that was Colton. She knew better, but they gave her hope and she loved them dearly anyway. She became the ‘Cat Lady,' the crazy lady with the cats. She didn’t mind.

She often relived her nightmare at the shipyard. But on her deathbed as she felt herself fading away, she smiled. She could feel Colton’s lips kissing her softly.

EPILOGUE

Charlie and Casey entered Denny’s and took the booth that he forced Stanley to endure. Casey sat next to Charlie and he was glad he got this booth, as it was the first one and hidden from the view of most in the restaurant.

It had been six months since Casey’s coma, and she was now in perfect health. She and Charlie could now remember all the details of both lives. It was a source of humor between them. Casey often threatened Charlie in a whisper, “if you get killed one more time, I’ll kill you myself.”

His answer was always a nonchalant, “stop, you’re killing me.” She then applied a litany of physical responses from pinches to punches to choking him to biting him.

The waitress brought them coffee. Charlie checked his watch. They were excited, they were meeting Stanley. He had just returned from Oxford with a huge surprise he wouldn’t disclose. It had to be in person he demanded.

Casey hung on Charlie’s shoulder and nibbled on his ear. She put her lips to his ear and whispered so her breath would blow in it. It drove Charlie crazy.

“So, handsome, what do you think the big surprise is that Stanley is going to share with us?” Charlie shivered.

“Show us the heart he stole from the tin man in Oz? I don’t know. Maybe he got a lobotomy to help him quit drinking. Remember his adage, ‘Better a bottle in front of me, than a prefrontal lobotomy.’”

Casey pinched him. “Liar. Stanley doesn’t drink!”

“He freezes it and eats it so he won’t have a drinking problem.”

Just at that moment Stanley entered the restaurant.

To Charlie and Casey’s surprise, he had an attractive woman with him. She had her hand in the crook of his elbow, and was smiling and bumping him as they walked.

“Uh-oh, love bugs at twelve o’clock,” Casey whispered.

“She could be his probation officer!” said Charlie.

“Stop it, Charlie, or you get a spanking when we get home.”

“She could be his psychiatrist,” Charlie disobeyed.

They both laughed, but Casey whispered, “You’re going to get it when we get home.”

“Promises, promises.” Charlie smirked sideways at her.

Charlie stepped out of the booth just as Stanley and the mystery woman arrived at their table. He and Stanley touched fists.

“Hey bro or my brother from another mother,” Charlie goaded.

Stanley turned to his companion.

“I told you he was a bit slow.”

“You did not, bad boy!” said the mystery woman.

Everyone smiled as Stanley turned to his companion.

“This is my fiancé, Gabrielle Green.”

Gabrielle extended her hand, and Charlie shook it.

Stanley and Gabrielle slid into the booth across from Charlie and Casey.

“This is my fiancé, Casey.” Charlie said to Gabrielle and they reached across the table and shook hands.

“So, Stanley, you’re finally going green?” Charlie said somberly.

“What, organic?”

Charlie cut his eyes to Gabrielle.

“Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, I have to admit I missed you.”

“I didn’t even hear the shot!” Charlie retorted.

They all laughed.

So what do you do for a living, Gabrielle?” asked Charlie.

Charlie took a sip of his coffee.

“I’m a psychiatrist,” Gabrielle said confidently.

Charlie choked and began to cough as Casey patted his back. A drip of coffee dribbled out of Charlie’s nose. Stanley chuckled at his friend’s reaction. Charlie dabbed at the coffee that escaped his nose.

“You’re kidding, right?” Charlie said bemused. He looked from Gabrielle to Stanley.

“No, I’m not. I am a psychiatrist!”

Charlie laughed out loud.

“Don’t take this the wrong way Gabrielle, but I can’t help myself. It’s just that Stanley is literally doing to a psychiatrist what he has demanded be done to psychiatry.”

Gabrielle laughed. “Yes, I know. I love his rants, and he’s right, you know? That’s how we met. He went off on a psychology major, in a Quantum Physics class, who was foolish enough to mention the chemical imbalance possibility of causing differing consciousnesses. Stanley ate his lunch basically. He was my man after that. I’m trying to clean up the field, along with a minority of psychiatrists who got into the field to actually help people.”

“What in God’s name did the others get in to the field for?” Charlie inquired.

“Some for money, and the chance to be a doctor without being held to any standard.  Psychiatry gets most of the incompetents and the field attracts anti-social narcissists more than any other field.”

“Why are so many narcissists attracted to psychiatry?”

“Well, a narcissist must be right! We all want to be right, but we can be wrong and not despair. A narcissist is in terror of being wrong. They’re bullies who seek a way to force agreement. Psychiatry is perfect for them. Anyone disagrees, label them crazy. No one can argue with them, because there are no standards. They become like the high priests of the Mayans. They voice an opinion and a heart is cut out, or thousands of volts go through your head or some unproven label haunts you for life. No science required just well-placed bribes!”

“How?”

Charlie had heard it from Stanley, but he wanted to see just how matched she was to Stanley.

“It survives by pharmaceutical money. That money bribes every politician. The FDA and money from its drug ads compromises the news business to the point where the public is without protection.”

“Well, I can see why Stanley plans to marry you, but how in God’s name will you fix all that?”

“The psychiatrists who actually demand the clean up, work day and night to take away Big Pharma’s long running use of Enron techniques-big show, but no positive end result. They make a lot of money going in, but no positive results. There’s hope, however, and that is the terrific news. There are physicists making breakthroughs in understanding consciousness and spiritual teachers that have developed simple techniques that actually work. Some of these have impressive degrees from Harvard and Cambridge. Highly trained doctors, nutritionists and others are getting verifiable results, but just don’t have the money to make it known to the public. The narcissist is currently in control! Stanley and I are going to change all that!”

“Whoa! High five. Here’s to a real soul doctor!” Charlie reached across the table and gave her a high five.

Stanley leaned forward and in a conspiratorial tone said, “Gabrielle knows the whole story!”

“So, are we all crazy?” Casey inquired.

Gabrielle looked around at each slowly, took out her compact, and checked her make-up. She looked slowly at each again and, while still looking in the mirror, said, “yep, I think we are!”

They all laughed.

Gabrielle looked at Casey. “I’m so happy you are well and in love. I am honored to know you three. I just know we’ll be friends forever.”

“Why thank you, Gabrielle.”

“By the way,” Stanley added, “anyone interested in what happened to Ludwig and Paul?”

“Yes!” came the simultaneous reply.

“It took a bit of research, but basically when the addictive qualities of heroin and cocaine became public knowledge, they lost their credibility, and the funds dried up. Paul and Ludwig began to squabble, and Ludwig’s whereabouts were being asked about over Colton’s demise. His visa expired, and he went back to Germany. He lived by various cons, usually some sugar water concoction with a bit of opium in it or as an advisor to various businesses that needed subterfuge to conceal its lack of acumen. He eventually got caught and feigned mental illness to get sent to an asylum rather than prison. His timing was poor, as psychiatry had just been given full autonomy by the Third Reich. Ludwig was on the first wave of the mentally ill sent to the gas chamber. He was put to death by his heroes.”