Dream of Me: Book 1 The Dream Makers Series (21 page)

The room was suddenly illuminated in bright light as Darla and Wayne came rushing into the living area, flipping the switch as they did so. Darla’s eyes took in the room quickly and then found Emma.

“Did she do this to you?” Darla hurried to her and knelt in front of the child. “Did your aunt hurt you?”

Emma shook her head. “It was a friend of hers they called Rat. I had locked my door but apparently that particular lock had not been tested against nasty, drunk men. I tried to get out the window but he caught me.”

Darla wrapped her arms around Emma and pulled her tightly to her chest. The girl suddenly looked like the eight-year-old that she was. She laid her cheek on Darla’s shoulder, and when she looked up at Raphael, he saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. He was thankful for those tears because it was not healthy for her to keep those emotions bottled up inside. Tears were healthy; they were like a cleansing waterfall to the soul and, once released, would wash away the pain.

“I don’t like to cry,” she sniffled as she closed her eyes causing the tears to fall. “It makes me feel like a victim and I am not a victim.”

Darla shook her head. “Crying doesn’t make you a victim, Emma,” she told her as she rubbed her back to sooth her. “You become a victim when you let the trauma overtake your life instead of dealing with it and letting it go.”

“Tears are good for you,” Raphael said. When she opened her eyes back up, he knelt down. His large frame seemed to make the room shrink. His face was almost level with hers as his eyes met Emma’s. “They are a gift from the Creator to his creation. Tears release endorphins in the mind that help soothe and comfort. They cleanse the eyes and relieve stress, thereby lowering blood pressure and taking strain off of the heart. He created you with tears and nothing he created is bad. Those tears you are holding in are necessary, Emma. Let them fall, let them heal, and let them remind you with each one that you are not alone.”

Chapter 9

“To dream of Christmas while it is Spring or Summer means that you are subconsciously remembering some long-forgotten pleasant experience of your childhood. To dream of the Grinch means that you are subconsciously burying an unpleasant memory.”

S
erenity motioned for Raphael to follow her into the kitchen once Darla had gotten Emma tucked away in the spare bedroom for the night. She knew by the worried look on the angel’s face that he thought she was about to go off on him again for not being there when Emma needed him. And though she was still angry over it, she knew yelling at Raphael wouldn’t change the events of the evening. But she had something more important to talk about.

“Tomorrow morning is Christmas.” Serenity rolled her eyes when he stood there and simply blinked at her. “As in there are usually presents under the tree from Santa for little girls and little boys.”

“Emma will not have presents at her aunt’s house, I’m sure,” Raphael said dully.

“Yes, I know. We’ve gotten her a few things ourselves, but we don’t want her to think that Santa has forgotten her, now do we?

“You desire for me to go and get her presents?”

“Ding, ding, ding, give the angel his prize,” Serenity said dryly. “Yes, we want you to get her presents.” She held out a list and some money to him but he only took the list.

“I do not need your money.”

Serenity’s brow scrunched up. “Are you sure? You do realize that stuff isn’t free. You can’t just say,
hey, I’m an angel so give me what I want
.”

This time Raphael rolled his eyes at her. It was such a human gesture that Serenity couldn’t help the huff of laughter.

“I have been on this earth much, much longer than you. I learned the concept of commerce and goods without any trouble, believe it or not.”

Serenity’s eyes widened. “Did you just use sarcasm? Wow, I’m impressed. It was a little stiff, but you’re making progress.”

“I didn’t realize I was trying to make progress.”

“Raphael, we all have stuff that we need to make some progress on. Now, as much as I know you like small talk, off with you. You’ve got shopping to do.”

“I do not like small talk,” Raphael told her with a slight crease in his forehead.

“And we digress.” She blew out breath. “I was being sarcastic, Raph; just go with it.”

He simply looked at her for a moment longer before disappearing.

“Where did he disappear to?” Darla asked as she walked into the kitchen looking more worried than Serenity had seen her in a long time.

“Okay first doesn’t it freak you out that a man who claims to be an angel just up and disappears from your kitchen? And second I sent him on a mission. He’s going to be Santa.”

Darla smiled. “That was good thinking. And you need to remember Serenity that some of us experience things in our life time that make us very aware of the unseen world around us. I think the Good Book puts it as entertaining angels unaware. Some of us are simply aware.”

Serenity was tired to delve into that rabbit hole with her aunt. She’d just accept it for what it was. Darla wasn’t crazy and therefore obviously had simply accepted the supernatural world as being real. Serenity’s mind drifted back to Raphael and the gifts and she hoped that something as small as making Emma’s Christmas a little brighter would be enough to help heal the ordeal the young girl had been through that night. But she knew she could hope until the world crumbled and that wouldn’t change the fact that pieces of Emma’s innocence had been taken from her. Because of that she would never be the same.

“You go on to bed, Darla,” she told her aunt. “I’ll wait up for Raphael and make him help wrap the presents. It’s the least he can do.”

“Don’t be too hard on him, Sarah Serenity. We can’t begin to understand what kind of obligations he is under.”

Once again the way Darla referred to Raphael with such casualness baffled her. “I forget sometimes that you are way too chill for any normal adult.”

“Back in my day it was cool, not chill,” Darla smiled at her as she headed towards her room.

“Back in your day you all also thought pants that looked like they had bells at their bottoms were
cool
,” she said and drew out the word. “So I don’t know if I’d be too proud of what happened back in your day.”

Darla simply laughed at her and hollered goodnight leaving Serenity standing in the empty kitchen wishing Dair was with her and Raphael would hurry.

“What a Christmas,” she muttered under her breath.

“What a Christmas indeed,” a small voice said from behind her.

Serenity’s head whipped around to find Emma standing in the doorway where her aunt had stood only moments ago. “What are you doing up, chickadee?”

Emma shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Serenity sighed. “I can understand that. But you do know Santa can’t come if you’re awake, right?”

Emma’s lips quirked up in a small smile as she shook her head at her. “You can’t honestly believe someone with my IQ could possibly still believe in Santa Clause, could you?”

“Well, I don’t know what your IQ is soooo,” Serenity hedged.

“Fair enough,” Emma agreed. “I’m two points below Albert Einstein’s score.”

Serenity propped a hand on her hip and offered Emma a bemused smile. “I don’t know Einstein’s IQ either.”

The eight-year-old copied Serenity’s pose and added a head tilt of her own. “What exactly do you know?”

As Serenity stared down at the young girl who had been through so much, her stomach clenched inside of her. What did she know? She knew that if she’d been in Emma’s shoes tonight she wouldn’t be able to have a light hearted conversation in the kitchen of people she’d only known a couple of weeks. She knew that she would be a mess of blubbering tears and snot and the whole nine yards if some scary, nasty man had attempted to put his hands on her. But she didn’t share those things with Emma, not yet. “I know that little girls need to be in bed if they want Santa to come,” she finally told her.

Emma’s hand dropped from her hip and she let out a resigned sigh. “Fine, I will go to bed, even though I know Santa Clause is not going to be trotting in here on some reindeer, plopping himself down a chimney, and unpacking a pack that seemingly never empties.” All of this she said as she began walking backwards toward the hallway.

“Hey, Emma,” Serenity called just as the girl began to turn around to walk to Wayne and Darla’s spare bedroom. Emma looked back at her with large, trusting eyes. “Even if there’s not a Santa, you still are not forgotten.”

Emma’s eyes lit up with what Serenity could only describe as hope. A smile stretched across the young girl’s face as she spoke, “Of course I’m not. God didn’t create me just so he could go and forget me.”

“No, I suppose he didn’t,” Serenity whispered as Emma continued down the hall.

The house was quiet after everyone had gone to bed. Serenity was left to her thoughts as she sat in the kitchen at the small dining room table. She had to continually push her mind away from the
what could have beens
and
what might have happened
had Raphael not arrived when he did. She knew that it would do no good to dwell on things that hadn’t happened or couldn’t be changed. So she thought of Dair instead and wondered how his night was going. He had told her that he might be gone longer than one night because he had several assignments to complete. Serenity had asked him how he knows when he has a new person to see and he had shrugged and said, “I just do.” She could tell he had never given it a second thought. Why would he? It was what he had been doing since his creation. Like, breathing was second nature to her; making dreams was the same to Dair. So instead of sitting and dwelling on all that she couldn’t fix, she pulled her phone from the pocket of her flannel pajama bottoms and dialed Glory’s number. It had been days since she’d gotten to talk to her best friend, and if anyone would know what to say to keep Serenity’s mind busy it would be Glory.

“It’s late,” Glory’s voice chirped through the receiver when she finally picked up.

“That’s all you have to say to me? For all you know I’m calling with a crisis.”

“Are you?”

Serenity bit her lip. “Well, it’s a post crisis.”

“Post crisis is not a crisis and therefore does not require the same kind of courtesy a crisis would. So again I say, it’s late.”

“Aren’t you even the least bit curious about the post crisis?” Serenity taunted.

There was a pause before Glory let out a long sigh. “Good grief, Sarah Tillman, would you spit it out already. Getting information out of you is like trying to get milk from a slug.”

“Um, Glory, milk doesn’t come from slugs.”

“Exactly, so you should totally feel my pain. Now give me the post crisis details and don’t leave anything out.”

“You’re grouchy.”

“It’s late.”

“You said that.”

“And yet you have yet to fill me in on the post crisis. What. The. Hell. Serenity?”

“Okay, okay, geeze, sometimes it’s hard to believe you’re an actual adult.” Serenity hurried on before Glory could add her two cents. “So Emma showed up on our door tonight…” She told Glory every detail starting from when Darla had told her about Emma’s aunt coming up to the library to take Emma home. As she spoke she felt her blood getting hot all over again. By the time she had finished the story, Serenity was ready to take a bat to Mildred’s to see if this Rat character was hanging around.

“Is she alright?” Glory’s voice was considerably softer than it had been when she’d first answered the phone. “I haven’t met this little Emma yet, but from what you’ve told me she’s one smart cookie and tough. How is she handling things?”

“Honestly, I’m a little shocked as to how well she’s taking it. I feel like she should be a blubbering mess. I mean she’s shed some tears and it’s obvious that she isn’t unaffected but she’s actually holding it together really well.”

“She doesn’t have a choice,” Glory told her. “For Emma there is no plan B. Her parents are gone, this Mildred chick is all she has, and she knows that she has to make the best of what she’s got. I imagine little Emma knows that what’s done is done, and all she can do is move forward.”

“I think it’s past time you and Emma met,” Serenity pointed out.

“I have to agree, little pet. You have been remiss in your duties as a best friend and have not kept me apprised of all of your comings and goings.”

“You do realize that this best friend thing works both ways, right? You haven’t been ringing my phone.”

Serenity could see the shrug she knew her best friend was no doubt giving her. “True, but I have an excuse. I have a job. All you do is go to school, like that’s important or anything.”

Serenity laughed. “Yes, you’re right my graduating is of no consequence at all. How wrong of me to not make sure you are better informed before I worry about getting to class and getting my work done.”

“Now, we are finally making some progress,” Glory said in her most haughty voice. “I will come to your home on the morrow to meet the child.”

“You’re weird.”

“You love me,” Glory sang.

“Yes, yes I do. It’s late; go to bed.” Serenity laughed when Glory let out a few of her favorite expletives before finally hanging up. She wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t said more on what had happened with Emma. She knew that it would be hitting too close to home with Glory. Serenity felt guilty for even telling her something like that over the phone, but then she knew that Glory would want to know before she met Emma face-to-face.

Her phone dinged letting her know that she’d received a text. It was from Glory.

“I’m fine. Quit worrying bout me.”

Serenity smiled to herself. Glory knew her too well.

She texted back. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m more worried about me and Emma if you don’t get some sleep. You’ll be a bear tomorrow.”

Glory responded with, “Grrr. Night.”