In My Dreams (16 page)

Before I could answer, he folded me into his arms and took off towards the snow machine. Why not? This was how Michael had been ever since I’d known him. He was an extremist. That was the brunt of our relationship. We did things, exciting things, things that most couples wouldn’t dream of doing.

He never really had any inhibitions; nothing to hold him back from doing what he wanted to. But then, he also had the most tender soul. He would give the shirt off of his back if he saw a need. He cared about people. That’s just the way he was; an old soul. But, that’s what I loved most about him, and that’s one of the many things I would miss the most.

He ran, carrying me effortlessly in his arms, his eyes fixed on the snow machine. He glanced down at me and winked. My heart fluttered at the total infatuation I had for him. Another mental picture was taken and placed in the back of my mind. I’d taken a lot of mental pictures these past days, and I hoped they wouldn’t end up like most of my photos, in boxes, or scattered around the cottage, never finding a happy or organized home. I hoped that my memories with Michael would never fade. They would always be tucked away safely in the back of my mind, ready to pull out when I needed them most.

He carefully set me back on the snow machine and hopped in front, and then started it; revving the throttle.

“What about helmets?” I asked.

“We won’t need them this time,” he said with a dangerous grin.

“Why?” I sputtered.

He looked back at me. I was already a leech, attached tightly to his body. He turned off the engine and turned to face me.

“I don’t know if I’ll have the chance to see you again Liz,” he said. He was trying to hide his emotions. The deep furrow in his brow, the sadness hidden within his beautiful, brown eyes, and his body language, all told me he was anguishing inside.

“What are you talking about?” Was this really the last time I’d see him? My head and heart began to ache. I wasn’t sure if I was beginning to wake, or if it was from his words. I hadn’t given much thought to how I would feel if I didn’t get the chance to see him again. The fear of losing him overshadowed every fear I’d ever had, or endured so far.

He leaned in, pulling me into his arms, and pressed his soft, warm lips tightly against mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer. His passion overwhelmed me, and a fire raced through my veins. I melted into his arms which held me tight. Electricity surged through our beings and my mind became fogged, forgetting about everything I’d previously thought of.

When he stopped, I opened my eyes, and he smiled. I was breathless, tingling, and speechless. I knew I wanted to ask him something, but I’d forgotten what it was. Thanks to him, my mind was temporarily out-of-service.

“You ready?” he whispered, kissing my cheek.

I nodded.

My body was like mush. He jumped off the machine and took a seat behind me, pushing me up to the front. He put my thumb on the starter and pressed. It started to purr.

Just then, I remembered what I wanted to ask him… but it was too late. He put his hand over mine and pulled the throttle back.

We flew across a field of fresh white snow, headed for the steepest hill. I had a hunch that he wasn’t going to slow down. In fact, he went faster, bending forward, his face resting on my shoulder. The force of the wind pulled the skin back on my face. I felt the warmth of his lips on my neck, but I was too afraid to respond. We hit the bottom of the hill and flew up it at a 70 degree angle.

“Michael!” I screamed. I swear I heard him laugh. He didn’t slow down, pulling my hand back harder, going even faster. We were quickly reaching the top.

“Michael, you’re crazy!” I screamed.

We flew over the peak and into the sky. The snow machine dropped out from beneath us. He grabbed me around my waist and twisted me to face him. I was locked, tight and secure in his arms, and we were free falling. I wrapped my arms securely around his neck and we kissed.

“Good morning!” a happy voice chimed.

“No---!” I moaned loudly. I wanted to be back in Michael’s arms.

“Did I interrupt a good dream sweetie?” my mom asked.

How embarrassing!

“Maybe,” I whined, throwing a pillow over my face.

“I made you some breakfast,” she said in a high pitched voice. I heard the rustling of a package. “Your favorite… chocolate chip pancakes and extra crispy bacon,” she tempted, peeling back the foil covering and circling it around my bed. The smell of bacon and pancakes enveloped the room. That was a heavenly smell. I slowly pulled the pillow off of my face and opened my eyes. It was hopeless. My wonderful dream of Michael was gone, especially with my mom here. She had entered the world of recovering alcoholic and I had the feeling she was going to smother me with motherly kindness.

I was going to be eighteen in almost a week, practically an adult. But I had a feeling she’d want to make up for all the missed years.

“Just one more day - then you can come home,” she said cheerfully. “I want you to come and stay with me until you get better. I’m going to take care of you. I spent the whole night cleaning like a mad woman and scrubbed everything that could be scrubbed. I even went down to the store and borrowed one of those steam cleaners and cleaned all the carpets.

“Then I went down to Wal-Mart and bought one of those bed-in-a-bags. Those are really neat. They come with everything,” she said pulling my tray to me, setting up my breakfast plate. She grabbed a small carton of orange juice from her purse and stuck a straw in it, then unfolded a napkin and draped it neatly over my chest.

Oh boy! My mom was back and by the look of it… she was in full mommy mode. I caught a tiny glimpse of my near future. We’d created a mommy monster! The thought made me exhausted.

She pulled back the curtain to reveal the wonderful Alaskan darkness.

“What time is it?”

“Nine O’clock. Sun should be out in a few hours,” she said fidgeting through her purse. Her hands were shaking. “Where are those darn pills?” She whispered to herself. She pulled a little tan bottle out of her bag, shook it over her palm and popped two pills into her mouth. She grabbed my cup of water and gulped it down.

“Shakes,” she said looking up and smiling at me. “It helps when I move around. I guess that’s why I’ve been so busy cleaning.”

I ate one pancake and two strips of bacon then gave the rest to my mom. She polished the rest of the plate off in no time.

“So can I help you with anything honey?”

“I want to take a shower. The nurse said she would take my bandages off today.”

I knew Michaels parents would be coming, I just didn’t know when, and I wanted to look at least halfway descent.

When the nurse finally came in to take my vitals, she removed my IV and bandages. I handed my mom the remote and headed into the bathroom. I hoped I looked better. I didn’t want anyone coming and seeing the beast they saw yesterday.

The mirror was kind and showed a lot less swelling, but the left side of my face was still a dark purplish color. I could probably conceal some of it with make-up.

I turned on the shower and waited for it to get hot before stepping in. The hot, steamy water felt relaxing, pounding on my shoulders. The back of my head was still tender.

I glanced down at my wrists and my ankles. Everything I had experienced the past couple of days was a blur. It felt like a dream, but I had the cuts and bruises to prove it was real. I still couldn’t believe Michael was gone, but the pain was dulled because he was with me almost every time I closed my eyes.

I remembered what he told me in my last visit with him. He might not be able to see me again. The uncertainties of those words were driving me crazy. What if…?

A sudden knock on the door diffused my thoughts.

“Lizzy, you have guests,” my mom called from behind the door.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” I hollered back.

It took me much longer than a minute to get out of the shower, put my clothes on, and paint on a seemingly normal looking face. It felt good to be clean again, and feel a little bit closer to normal. I was curious, as to whom my guests were, so I pressed my ear to the door.

Could it be the Young’s, Emily, or someone else I wasn’t expecting? I heard soft muffled voices, then a deep laugh which gave it away. It was Mr. Young. Thank God I decided to get ready early, and thank you Michael for giving me the head’s up.

As soon as I came into the room they greeted me with open arms and bright smiles. The room was strong with the smells of fruity perfume and spicy cologne.

“Elizabeth, we’re so glad you’re okay,” Mr. Young said hugging me like he didn’t want to break me.

“Lizzy,” Mrs. Young repeated, hugging me carefully with the same warmth. “How are you feeling? You look so much better from the first time they brought you in,” she noted kindly.

They were probably in the room when I was knocked out. My body was on the bed, but in my dreams I was flying with Michael in Hawaii. The thought caused my lips to turn up.

“Thank you. I feel a whole lot better.”

“Your mom told us that you get to go home tomorrow.”

“Yes,” I exhaled loudly. “I can’t wait.”

There was an awkward moment of silence. Mr. Young pulled a stray chair from against the wall and sat to where he could watch the TV. Mrs. Young took a seat at the foot of my bed.

“We brought you some breakfast,” she said holding up a package from one of the more expensive restaurants in town. “We know how hospital food can be. Hope you like eggs Benedict.”

“Wow. I love eggs Benedict.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” I lied. I was still a bit stuffed from the breakfast my mom brought me. I glanced over to my mom who gave me a wink, slowly nudging her bag, with the empty evidence, under the bed with her foot.

I returned to my bed while my mom assisted in pulling the tray back over me. I carefully opened the neatly packaged food. All eyes were on me. It smelled and looked delicious. There were two eggs with ham on English muffins smothered in hollandaise sauce with pan fried potatoes on the side.

I didn’t have the heart to tell them that I had already eaten. I knew my mom felt the same way. I figured if I paced myself I might have been able to finish most of it.

Mr. Young found Bizarre Foods on the Travel Channel to keep him occupied. I felt bad for him. His wife probably dragged him to the hospital to visit me. He slouched back in his seat trying to find a comfortable position, but he looked very awkward in the small chair. He finally pulled it closer to the wall where he kicked his feet up and rested them on the ledge.

The Young’s probably had a million questions to ask me about what happened. Chief Cross must have given them some details, but I had the feeling they wanted to hear straight from the source.

I kept eating slowly, evading the inevitable. I was uncomfortable on the hot seat. I wished I could just close my eyes and - POOF! – Michael would appear to me and I could ask him what information I should or shouldn’t divulge to his parents.

This was going to be much worse than talking to Chief Cross, I just knew it. I didn’t want them to think I was a whacko.

Mrs. Young was fidgeting. Her perfectly manicured hands twisted nervously around each other. She tried to watch the TV, but she wasn’t focused. Every little sound made her turn. She twisted back to me, a few times, and smiled, probably checking to see if I was finished. I knew she wanted to say something.

Mrs. Young was very beautiful. She had a petite frame, a few inches shorter than me, and had fair skin. Her light brown hair with golden highlights curled perfectly down her back. Today she was wearing jeans and a red fluffy sweater, which looked to be expensive.

Mr. Young was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He was tall, around six-three, had dark brown hair – all slicked back - and dark sharp features. Michael definitely pulled the best from both of them.

I tried to eat as much as I could, only leaving half an egg’s Benedict and half of the potatoes. I was at my limit, and my stomach felt like it would explode if I took one more bite. I folded the cover back over the food and handed it to my mom who took it and added it to her bag.

“Thanks so much. That was great,” I said to the Young’s, patting my stomach.

“Oh you’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it,” Mrs. Young said warmly.

I pushed the tray aside and cleared my throat. Mrs. Young didn’t waste any time. She twisted her body to my direction and scooted closer to me. I could see from the corner of my eye, Mr. Young had turned his head to look at us.

Mrs. Young grabbed my hands and leaned in close. My mom slightly leaned in too.

“Lizzy,” she whispered. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I had a dream of Michael last night.” Her eyes filled with tears. “It was so real. I hugged him and talked to him. I asked him questions and he answered them. He told me that he wasn’t in any pain, and he told me how much he loved me.” Tears streamed down her frail cheeks.

I was speechless, and was glad that they had experienced Michael too.

“I dreamt of him too,” Mr. Young said from across the room. All three pairs of eyes turned to him. “We were hunting, at the spot we go to every year. He was having a conversation with me, like he was still alive. He told me he loved me, and thanked me for being his dad. He told me to be strong.” Mr. Young’s voice started to tremble. He turned, and buried his face in his hands. That was so unlike Mr. Young, and watching him cry was heart wrenching.

Loud sobs echoed on all sides. There wasn’t one dry eye in the room.

Mrs. Young turned back to me, gently dabbing the wet beneath her eyes. “Michael wanted me to make sure you were taken care of. He told me that he wanted everything in his savings to be transferred over to you. He also wanted you to have his car. The insurance company is going to replace it.”

I was shocked and overwhelmed. I knew with his college fund, birthday gifts, and odd jobs, he had over $250,000.00 in his account.

“I can’t. There’s no way. You’re his parents. Everything should go to you.” I stressed. “I can’t take Michael’s money, or his car. It’s not like we were married.”

“Lizzy, we want to fulfill the last wishes of our son. We wouldn’t be able to live with ourselves if we didn’t. He wanted to be with you and take care of you the rest of his life. He wants you to have his things. A small token of his love,” Mrs. Young reiterated.

“He told me the same thing. Those were his last wishes, for you to be taken care of Elizabeth,” Mr. Young said in a weak voice.

I was stunned speechless. Michael. There wasn’t much I could say. They’d already made up their minds, and were very adamant about keeping their promises, especially to their son.

I knew my mom was probably freaking out. I turned to her. Her eyes were wide and filled with tears. She rubbed and patted my arm, as if to say, it would be alright.

“You’ve seen him too… haven’t you?” Mrs. Young asked quietly, staring intently into my eyes.

“Yes. I’ve dreamt of him almost every night. He was the one that helped me escape from that murderer. And when I was lost in the woods, he actually appeared to me, and led me to the road where Emily and Tyler found me.”

Everyone’s eyes were boring into me.

“He did?” Mrs. Young asked, holding back tears.

I swallowed hard. “Yes. He came to me when I had given up. I thought I was going to die.”

I heard a gasp come from my mom’s direction.

“Did he tell you how he died?” Mrs. Young questioned. “He didn’t share that with me.”

“Yes. He was murdered.”

“I knew it. That man drugged him, didn’t he? They found a heavy dose of drugs in Michael’s blood, but I knew my son never touched drugs,” she sobbed.

“Yes. That was how he passed.” I nodded sadly. “And, Michael never, ever touched drugs,” I assured her.

“He also told me that it wasn’t Tyler’s fault. He didn’t want us to blame him for his death. I’d like to talk to Tyler and let him know that, but I haven’t seen him around,” she said, dabbing her tears again.

My mom remained silent and still, aside from the occasional sob which let me know she was still there.

“He came last night with Emily. I’m sure he would love to hear what you have to say.” I knew Tyler would heal faster if he knew that Michael’s parents didn’t blame him.

“Well, maybe we can call his dad, and set up a time to meet with him,” she said turning to Mr. Young, who nodded in agreement.

“Well, we don’t want to take up too much of your time,” Mrs. Young said grabbing my hands in hers.

“I actually have all the time in the world,” I noted. Everyone laughed.

“Well, I have to go get ready for a house showing this afternoon,” Mrs. Young said, standing up off of the bed. Mr. Young stood and pushed his chair back to the wall and handed my mom the remote.

“Well… Elizabeth, if you need anything… anything at all… please let us know,” Mr. Young said walking over to me, giving me a warm hug.

“Yes, honey. We are here for you. Just because Michael is --” she paused. Her eyes welled with tears again but she took in a deep breath, regaining her composure. “You’re still family, Lizzy. You are welcome at our home anytime. We will work out the details of Michael’s affairs when you are well. Please call us if you need anything.”

Seeing her cry broke my heart. I couldn’t help but cry too. “Thank you so much. Both of you. And thank you so much for this room,” I said appreciatively.

“It was the least we could do,” Mrs. Young said. “We love you Lizzy,” she whispered giving me a hug.

“I love you too,” I replied.

They both hugged my mom and told her goodbye before they left.

My mom stayed for about an hour longer, but she had her first rehabilitation treatment which she couldn’t miss.

I finally had a chance for some alone time.