Nobody's Dream (40 page)

Jeezus, I miss you.

“I just returned from shopping and errands.”

“Just checking to see how things are going up there.”
Are you working too hard?

More loud breathing and then, “We are okay. How about you and the horses?”

“Keeping busy.”

He took a bite of his dinner and closed his eyes to pretend she was sitting across from him while he ate.

“What are Millie, Gracie, and the other girls up to?”

“You will not believe what Milagrosa did today.” The joy in her voice made him happy, too.

After a few minutes, a lull in the conversation followed before she filled the space. “I heard about the rescue of the lost little boy. Were you one of the SAR workers?”

Good girl for paying attention to the fires raging near you.

“Yeah. Pic helped, too.”

“Pic?”

“Picasso.”

“Oh, your SAR horse! I did not know his nickname.” He was surprised she remembered their conversations about the horse at all, but Cassie loved animals as much as he did.

“Yeah. This was his first mission, but he picked right up where he left off, it seems.” He reminded her of Pic’s history of neglect.

“I am so glad you found him and have a place to raise and train him. You are a good man to work so hard with them.” She spoke her last words through a yawn.

“You aren’t overdoing it, are you, Sweet Pea?”

“No, not at all. Had a sleepless night, and it has been a busy day with the alpacas and errands.”

Another awkward pause ensued. Luke wondered if she lay awake at night thinking about him as much as he did her.

“Oh, I will be shearing the alpacas soon.”

“Takes two to do that. Let me know when and I’ll come up.”

Silence.

Say ‘yes,’ baby girl
.

“Okay, thanks. That would be good. But let me get through the gallery opening first.” Asking for a man’s assistance wasn’t easy for Cassie, but she’d just accepted his offer to help.

Progress.

“How are the other horses?”

“All making progress.”
Faster than we are.

“I hate to cut you off, but I need to finish unloading the Tahoe and put things away. Left my phone on the table when you called, so it took me a minute to run in and answer it.”

Ah, that’s why she was out of breath
. “Listen, Cassie, keep an eye out for signs of fire up there. Whole damned state’s going up in flames. Pack up what you can’t live without and be ready to evacuate at a moment’s notice. Call me and I’ll be there in a flash.”

“Do not worry, Lucas. I have been watching and have signed up for phone alerts from both counties.” Her place straddled the borders of the two counties, making response times from either department longer.

“Glad to hear that, darlin’.” He just hoped it was enough.

Silence again.

“Was there anything else you wanted, Lucas?”

“Why don’t we have dinner this week and really catch up?”
Not just dinner over the phone, either. I need to see you.

“Let’s wait until after I get back from the gallery opening.”

“Actually, I’m planning to come to Denver next week to do some renovation work at Adam and Karla’s next Tuesday and was going to stick around for your opening, too.”

“Oh. Thank you. I never think anyone will show up.”

“Don’t know why you’d think like that. Your last exhibition was a huge success, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Much more than I ever expected, although not many buyers.”

“Don’t you worry. You’re gonna be mobbed. I can feel it.” Meaning he wouldn’t have any time alone with her. “Hey, maybe I can take you to dinner before the opening.”

“Oh, well, the gallery is hosting a reception that evening. Not that I will be able to eat a thing. Opening-night jitters.” Her laugh sounded forced, but he could imagine how crowds like that would freak her out.

He grinned. “How about breakfast the morning after?” He’d find someone to cover things for him here. His heartbeat ramped up at the thought of spending some time alone with her again.

“Breakfast would be nice.”

Hot damn!
He felt like he’d just thrown a touchdown pass to the receiver in the end zone, but he tried to contain his excitement. “So are you all ready for the show?”

“One more piece to finish. I cannot wait to see what you think of it.”

“Can’t wait.” He glanced across the table into the living room at the picture she’d painted of him and Millie. “I hung the one you gave me over the mantel.”

He must have surprised her because she grew silent again for a long moment.

“Please stay safe if you are called out on any more search-and-rescue operations.”

“Always am. You be safe, too.”

“I will.”

The silence drew out until she bridged the awkwardness. “I have enjoyed talking with you, Lucas. Thanks for calling.”

“You, too, Cassie. Keep in touch.”

They ended the call, and Luke looked down at the congealed gravy on his sliced beef and mashed potatoes. No longer hungry—not for food, anyway—he picked up the TV dinner and tossed it in the trash.

Maybe he’d spend some time in his studio tonight. He needed a creative outlet.

*     *     *

Cassie’s eyes burned from lack of sleep, but the Denver gallery exhibition opened in a few days and she needed to finish this fiver-art piece. She yearned for the day she would be able to use the fleece of her own alpacas, but for now, she had to rely on fibers purchased from a local farmer.

All the preparation and planning finally came together as she immersed herself so deeply in her work the world ceased to exist. These were her favorite times as an artist, not to mention as a human being—the times when she felt alive again.

She had been preparing the fleece and spinning the wool all winter. After Lucas and Eduardo left, she had begun dyeing the fleece to perfection. She had to take a break while helping Kitty with the babies, but had returned home this week to finish at Kitty’s insistence.

Watching the piece emerge from a nebulous thought in her mind months ago to almost-finished today invigorated her. She did not wish to stop working for a moment. Two nights ago, she had screwed the eyehooks in what appeared to be a random pattern on the inside of the rustic wooden picture frame she found at a flea market last summer.

She had spent the last two days using the
quipu
techniques learned at her grandmother’s knee decades ago to tie cords and knots in a deliberate, timeless tradition of storytelling. Each strand, each knot, each color represented a part of her journey, from joys and sorrows to triumphs and failures—a lifetime to date of her experiences.

The predominant color was green, depicting ritual, ancestors, and her love of plants. She felt closest to
Mamá
while working with green. For
Papá
, she had chosen blue, the color of the sky and blue signified the Spanish influence on Peruvian
quipu
and art. Blue also illustrated Cassie’s spiritual growth. Several strands of white fleece had been interwoven to show how
Mama Quilla
had a part in her life, as well. Red was kept to a minimum, the color of conquest and rulership.

Black also seemed in short supply. In her culture, black represented the space between the stars, reminding them of creation, the life energy, and the People’s origins. But the color also embodied love and happiness. Wanting balance, she had added a strand to illustrate her marriage commitment to Lucas, even if it was not a traditional marriage.

The longest strand was of deep purple, signifying
Pachamama
. That thread eventually would embrace the others in the piece to show how the mother of all life had wrapped her in her loving arms since the beginning of time.

In addition to weaving together the threads of her life story, she also included splashes of colorful beads, as well as small, meaningful charms—angel trumpet flowers for
Abuela
, a kitten for Kitty, three sets of baby booties for the triplets, and others.

When finished, the piece would represent the interconnectedness of all things, living and inanimate, past and present, real and imaginary. Her stomach began growling and she realized she needed to eat. She took a break and walked over to the table where a bowl of fresh fruit awaited. Quick and easy, then she would return to work.

Cassie would wait and mount the piece to the mirror after going to Denver. Less chance it could be broken. She envisioned the visitors to the gallery standing side by side before the four-by-two-foot piece, their faces intermingling as part of the piece itself.

The web of life.

Feeling closer to
Abuela
than she had in a long time, she made a note to put her grandmother’s most special blanket among the items to take in case of an evacuation. Fires were starting in new places every day it seemed. She did not remember so many wildfires in one season since coming to Colorado.

She took a bite of an apple. Working on this piece had helped to keep her mind off of Lucas until she picked up the cell phone yesterday. Hearing his voice for the first time in more than a week, she could not believe how quickly he had wrapped himself around her heart once again. She actually looked forward to seeing him again at the gallery in Denver. Of all the people who would be there, he was the one she most wanted to share and discuss her artwork with.

Still, she was surprised that he did not forget about her. Was it loyalty because of their marriage vows? Or something more? She, too, found it difficult to relegate Lucas to being an acquaintance again, try as she may. She had even added a crescent-moon charm to her piece to further represent Lucas’s albeit brief influence in her life.

The man did strange things to her psyche. Oddly enough, her body responded to him, as well. He invaded her dreams, pushing away the darkness and bringing only smiles, and well, sometimes she dreamed of touching him.

She had not allowed herself to astral project to him after that first time. That had been an invasion of his space and privacy. And yet, even though she was not actively going to him, he was still so often on her mind when she let her guard down.

Please let me return to my once-safe life, Lucas.

Her mind and heart had found peace in her solitude, but when she was with Lucas, the overload of conflicting, confusing emotions nearly brought her to her knees.

Moving to the sink, she washed the stickiness from her fingers. Even though she had no intention of becoming involved with him any more deeply than she was now, she did worry about him. With all the fires still breaking out and the search and rescue missions, she wondered if he had been worked any others. Yesterday, the latest fire had broken out only twenty-five miles away. Too close for him not to be called upon if needed.

Back in her workspace, before her fingers returned to their work, she sent angels of protection to surround him now as she had done each morning as part of her daily meditation.

Mama Quilla,
please keep him safe from harm, as well
. He had come to mean a lot to her during his time up here.

Sometimes she even missed him. Not that she needed him. She had learned to need no one.

But with Lucas she had discovered companionship with a man for the first time since… She had never expected to find that again. Lucas understood her artist’s mind, and even influenced her work now. The art she created came from somewhere deep inside. She almost went into a trance when creating it, but she did not always understand its meaning even after it was completed. This piece was different.

Of course, art was open to interpretation, and the best pieces spoke differently to each person who viewed them, mingling what the artist wanted to convey with the art patron’s own experiences and biases.

She had enjoyed hearing Lucas describe what he saw in her work.

Yes, I miss him.

Cassie shook off the melancholy that had plagued her since she had married the man. She had never been lonely up here before, but something had changed.
She
had changed.

What had this man done to her comfortable existence?

She did not view her cabin as the sanctuary she once had. The cabin had become her prison with reminders of Lucas everywhere she looked. Nowadays, she spent most of her time in the studio or hiking on the mountainside.

The burning in her eyes stung. Cassie blinked, but could not relieve the dryness. Was she overtired? Eye strain?

She glanced away from the piece and out the window. Smoke?

Almost at once, Cassie’s mind registered the smell of burning wood coming in through the open window of her studio. She dropped the crochet hook she had been using to draw the fleece through the piece and ran for the door. Flames and smoke covered the top of the next hill.

Fire!

She ran down the path toward the shed until something told her to turn around. More smoke from a different fire billowed up from the access road leading to the state highway. Cut off. She needed to leave this mountain now! Her only escape would be to head straight down the mountain and hope the two fires did not meet. Depending on which way the wind blew, the flames from either fire could be at her doorstep in no time.

Her Tahoe would be useless without a road to follow, so she would have to escape on foot. Inside the shed, she tried to calm the alpacas, which were agitated and making mournful sounds.

I know. I am frightened, too.

“We are going on an adventure, girls.”

She placed harnesses on each one. When the cell phone in her pocket blared, she pulled it out to see a fire alert text message. These fires must be fairly recent—unless they had gone undetected so long because they were far away from any roads or homes.

It gave a code to text back, but she also sent a message informing them of her escape plan before putting the phone away and filling several small burlap bags with feed. This should be plenty of feed until they reached safety and could restock. At least they were pack animals and able to carry water and supplies.