Dream a Little Scream (17 page)

“Just don't be in too much of a hurry to have your day in court,” Persia cautioned. “The wheels of justice move slowly, I'm afraid.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Etta Mae said with a glint in her eye. Etta can be abrasive, but she seemed genuinely grateful for Persia's help.

18

“Any more dreams to report?” Ali said brightly. She sneaked a peek at her watch. She likes to bring these meetings in under two hours, and we were running late tonight.

“I had an anxiety dream,” Edward Giles said suddenly. He gave a sheepish smile, as if he was embarrassed by what he was going to relate.

“Why don't you tell us about it.” Ali gave him an encouraging smile and passed a plate of buttery springerle cookies to Persia. She'd found an antique cookie mold with a sailing ship on it and couldn't resist trying it out.

Edward waved away the cookies, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on his knees. “It was very similar to something I read about in a dream interpretation book.” He reached into his pocket and laid a paperback dream guide on the coffee table. “I don't know how reliable these things are,” he said, a faint touch of pink coloring his pale face. “I suppose I should have asked you for a recommendation,
but the lady at the Corner Bookstore said this was a popular one.”

I glanced at the title. I was relieved to see he'd picked one of the classic books in the field.

“Well, there's good and bad out there,” Dorien said. “Some dream books are so vague, they're not worth the paper they're printed on. It's like reading your horoscope in the newspaper. You can make anything you want out of it. They keep the details really fuzzy so they apply to everyone.”

“Anyway,” Edward went on, “I dreamt I was driving alone at night in the country; I think it was the marshlands right outside of town. The night was very dark, with no stars, and I felt confused. Suddenly I didn't know where I was, and I was running low on gas. I felt myself gripping the steering wheel very tightly”— he demonstrated by clenching his fingers into fists—“and I was having trouble controlling the car. It seemed to have a life of its own, and it was swerving all over the road.”

“I had a dream just like that last week,” Dorien whispered. When Edward glanced up, she quickly apologized. “Please go on. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt.”

Edward nodded, his face tense. “I was going faster and faster. I felt like things were spinning out of control.” He stopped and heaved a sigh. “Then suddenly the road changed into a train track.” He shook his head, puzzled. “I don't know how that happened, but I was driving down the railway tracks in the pitch dark and the car was bouncing from side to side off the rails. I tried to get ahold of myself, and then I saw that the track was going to end in just a few yards. Somehow I knew there was a cliff ahead and the car was going to go right over it.” His voice was low and hushed and he looked around the group.

“Good heavens,” Minerva murmured. “What did you do?”

“I tried to slam on the brakes, but they weren't working. Nothing in the car worked; it was out of my control. I was trapped. I knew I was going to die.” There was dead silence in the room. All of us were caught up in his story.

“The car kept on speeding down the tracks, and the drop-off was getting closer and closer. I knew I'd be a goner any second because the car was going to plummet over the cliff. It was inevitable. I tried to prepare myself for the end, and then, to my horror, I realized I wasn't alone in the car.”

“You weren't alone?” I said, my breath catching in my throat.

“My nephew William was strapped into his car seat right next to me.”

“Oh no!” Rose said, her hand flying to her mouth. “That poor little child.”

Edward nodded solemnly. “Something terrible was going to happen to him, and there was no way I could save him.”

He rested his fingertips on his forehead and hung his head. He had described the dream so vividly, all of us had been affected. I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath and let out a little puff of air.

“That must have been horrible for you,” I said when the silence had gone on for a while. “It sounds absolutely terrifying, Edward.”

“Yes, it was,” he admitted, looking up at me. “It's gotten so I'm afraid to go to sleep at night.”

“Because you wonder if you'll have that dream again,” Sybil ventured.

“That's it.” He rubbed his hands together as if he needed to restore the circulation. “I don't think I could face it again. I had chest pains when I woke up.”

“Chest pains? Edward, that's awful,” Persia blurted out. “You need to tell your doctor about this. Please don't delay; it could be something serious.”

Edward gave her a wan smile. “I think I was just stressed out from the dream. And from some other things going on in my life,” he said cryptically. “I don't hold much stock in doctors,” he said. “I try to eat right and I walk five miles every day. And I take my vitamins. I'm a tough old bird, you see.”

“That's all well and good,” Minerva spoke up, “but you still might need to be evaluated and maybe have some cardiac tests done. Better safe than sorry. Right, Rose?” she said, turning to her sister.

“Right,” Rose agreed. “I used to get nightmares all the time, and it turned out that I had an arrhythmia.”

“That's an irregular heartbeat,” Minerva explained.

“It's like the chicken-and-egg question,” Rose went on. “When my heart goes into a crazy rhythm in my sleep, my body knows something is wrong and my mind conjures up a dream to make sense of it. The doctor told me this might be the source of my nightmares. I can wake up with my heart pounding for no reason at all. I'm not stressed out or worried about anything, it just happens.” Rose looked around the group and folded her hands in her lap. “I have to turn on the light and read for a little while to distract myself and calm down. Then I can go back to sleep and have a peaceful night.”

“I think my situation is different,” Edward said doubtfully. “Everyone in my family has good strong hearts. I think these nightmares I'm having are all in my head. I'm letting myself get all upset about something I have no control over.” He hesitated and I wondered if he was going to say more, but then he sat back and folded his arms over his chest. He
wasn't ready to divulge what was troubling him. We'd just have to be patient and hope he'd decide to share it with us.

“I still think you should go for a complete checkup,” Persia said.

“This little nephew who was sitting beside you,” Sybil asked, “is this someone who is a big part of your life? You know, Edward, in dreams, one character is sometimes substituted for another. Your dream character might represent a particular quality in someone you know. For example, if you're dreaming of a baby, you might really be thinking of someone who's helpless and vulnerable. Your subconscious translates that person into a baby or a small child in your dream.” She smiled. “Another possibility is that you really do have a nephew who's an infant and you're concerned about him.”

Edward was listening carefully and nodding. “That's interesting. Well, I can tell you this much: my nephew William is all grown up now, but yes, he's definitely important to me.” A smile crossed his weathered face.

“Does he live here in Savannah?” I wanted to keep Edward talking and keep the thread of the conversation going. Edward rarely opens up, and this might be the perfect time to get to know him a little better.

“He went to college here in Savannah,” Edward said, “and then he went off to do other things.”

He gave an abrupt nod of his head as if punctuating his thought. I had no idea what the “other things” referred to, and I was pretty sure Edward wasn't going to enlighten me.

It seemed this would be a good time to end the meeting, and Edward surprised me by asking if anyone would like to borrow his dream book. Lucinda enthusiastically said she would, and Edward handed it to her. I figured this was a very good sign. Up until that point, I wasn't really sure if Edward was planning on staying with the group.

“Is it all right if I stop by tomorrow morning?” Lucinda asked me as she as she was leaving. “I'm going to be over this way and I'd like to drop off the yearbook.”

“Of course,” Ali told her. “We're going to be up at the crack of dawn.”

“We are?” I said archly.

“Cooking classes,” Ali said brightly. “We need to get started on them.” When Lucinda gave her a blank look, she added, “It's a new project we're trying out; it's still in the planning stage. Don't worry, we'll tell you all about it when we have the kinks worked out. We'll be featuring cupcakes from Sonia's latest book.”

“I can be here at nine tomorrow morning, if that's not too early?” Lucinda said timidly.

“That's perfect,” I said. “We're experimenting with the recipe I found online for donut cupcakes, and you can be the first person to try them.”

“Donut cupcakes? They sound delicious,” Minerva piped up. “Would it be inconvenient if Rose and I stopped by, too? I need some candies and cupcakes for my bridge club.”

“The more, the merrier,” Ali said gaily. “The coffee will be on and the cupcakes will be fresh out of the oven.”

“Sounds heavenly,” I heard Rose murmur to Minerva as they headed out the door.

•   •   •

“Do these seem
a little heavy to you?” I asked Ali the next morning. It was eight thirty and I'd just slid the first pan of donut cupcakes out of the oven. We'd experimented with two different recipes, trying to get exactly the right texture and topping. I knew our beta tasters would let me know if we'd succeeded.

“They look delicious,” Ali said, admiring the streusel-
topped creations I'd put on the cooling rack. “They don't seem heavy at all,” she said, lifting one up and inspecting it. “They smell delicious and they don't need frosting with that yummy streusel topping. You know, these would be easy to pack and ship to our distance customers.” She gave a rueful smile. “That is, if we ever have any. The way things are going with the shop, we may need to set our sights on a national customer base.”

Ali and I have been toying with the idea of creating a mail-order business so we could ship our baked goods all over the country. It's an exciting concept, but somehow we've never had the time to go over the logistics. Was it realistic or just a dream? I needed to take a cold, hard look at it from a business point of view before we got too involved. I wasn't really sure how our pastries would hold up in the mail. We use fresh ingredients in our baked goods, with no trace of additives or preservatives. How long would they stay fresh and tasty? This was going to take some serious thought.

“All in good time,” I told her. “Besides, once Sonia's murder is solved, this cloud over the shop will disappear.”

Lucinda arrived at nine o'clock on the dot, with the Harper sisters right behind her. After we were settled at the kitchen table, Lucinda pulled out the Academy yearbook, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I found a few photos that you might find interesting. We could start with Trudy's senior picture.” She placed the book in the center of the table and we all leaned forward to take a look.

“Trudy Carpenter,” Minerva said. “She looks sort of quiet and subdued, doesn't she?” She pointed to a picture of solemn-looking girl with pale skin and long red hair. In this picture, Trudy was about five years older than she'd been in the photo in Clare's locket, but the high cheekbones and the
wide, expressive eyes were the same. Once again, the resemblance to Sonia was striking.

“Yes, she was rather quiet,” Lucinda agreed. “And she kept to herself. If you look at her activities, you'll see that she wasn't really involved with her classmates. See, nothing is listed under her name. No band, no Spanish club, no volleyball.”

“Maybe she wasn't much of a joiner,” Ali pointed out. “Some people enjoy spending their free time alone.” She glanced at me and I nodded. I remember that Ali hadn't joined any clubs in high school and college, preferring to take long walks in the woods or curl up with a novel in front of the fire.