In Your Dreams (24 page)

An
exhausted Isabelle cradled her newborn daughter, a perfect bundle of pink skin,
blue eyes, and a thatch of white-blond hair. Tony, seated at her bedside, still
looked shell-shocked from the ordeal. His normally tan skin had faded to the
hue and texture of cottage cheese, and his lips drew together in a tight line.
He hadn’t said a word since she’d threatened to cut off his testicles when he
pushed ice chips on her for the thousandth time. Not exactly her finest moment.

All
in all, though, she thought she’d behaved pretty well, considering she’d spent
a day and a half pushing a twenty-two-inch, seven-pounds-six-ounce child out of
a pretty slender part of her anatomy. She didn’t even punch him. Sure, the urge
did come over her once or twice. But she managed to hold most of her agony in
check. And in the end, she was rewarded with the most adorable baby girl the
world had ever seen.

“You
okay?” she asked Tony now. “Want some water or something?”

He
shook his head slowly.

She
had to stifle her giggles, but indulged her need to smile by staring at her
baby girl. Isabelle only wished Sean could see the beauty they’d created.

“Hell-o!”
Justin arrived behind an enormous arrangement of pink stargazer lilies, yellow
roses, and purple delphiniums. “How are my girls doing?”

“The
big one’s still not lucid,” Isabelle said with a nod in Tony’s direction. “The
medium-sized one is exhausted but very pleased with herself. And the wee baby
girl is
just right
.” She pitched her tone higher on the last two words,
ala Goldilocks. At last, she let loose with the giggles she’d kept at bay. At
this moment, life was close to perfect. Only Sean’s absence dimmed her
enthusiasm.

After
placing the flowers on the windowsill, Justin kissed Tony, then Isabelle. “Give
me that baby.”

She
snuggled her daughter closer to her chest. “Wash your hands first.”

“Yes,
Mama.” Turning to the sink, he scrubbed and dried his hands, then practically
lunged across the bed to scoop the newborn out of her arms. “There’s my sweet
little girl,” he cooed as he paced the narrow space between the bed and the
window, a gentle bounce in each step. “Have we decided on a name for our
princess yet?”

“Nope.”
She was sort of hoping, through Xavia, she might get Sean’s input on her
choices. But she didn’t dare mention that idea to Justin. Or anybody else, for
that matter.

“What’s
in contention?”

She
shrugged. “Anything but Isabelle, Justine, and Antonia or Antoinette. Or any
derivatives thereof.”

“I
take it Shauna’s out then, too?”

“Absolutely.
I want her to be her own person, not a namesake who feels the need to take on
characteristics that aren’t in her nature. She’s a very special little girl.
Unique. And she needs a unique name.”

“Uh-huh.
Unique,” Justin remarked dryly and poked an index finger on the infant’s nose.
“You hear that, little one? Your mama’s already got a bad case of ‘my baby’s
better than your baby.’”

With
good reason. Based on conception alone, her baby was more unique than anyone
else in the world could imagine. She bit her tongue to keep from sticking it
out at Justin. “Don’t be ridiculous. The perfect name takes time. Part of it
was waiting for her to be born. I mean, I’d hate to have my heart set on a
certain name and then, after seeing her for the first time, realize the name
totally doesn’t fit what she looks like.”

“You’ve
got a skyscraper of baby books in your room at home that you’ve been studying
for the last ten weeks, and the best you’ve come up with are the three or four
names you
don’t
want?” Justin’s voice rose, startling the infant who
began to fuss in his arms.

“I
was hoping the right one would come to me in a dream.” She held out her hands.
“Give me my baby. She obviously doesn’t appreciate your sarcasm.”

“I
think she’s upset because she’s afraid she’s going to go through life as Baby
Girl Fichetti—”

“Martino,”
she corrected. “Her last name is Martino.” The baby bawled louder, her face
scrunched up and reddening. “Give her to me, please. She’s probably hungry.”

“Can
I feed her? Please?” Tony the Zombie finally returned to life.

She
exchanged an amused glance with Justin, who nodded. “Sure. Justin, there are
sample bottles of formula on the shelf there.” She pointed to the lower level
of the clear crib the hospital staff used to transport the newborn from the
nursery to her room and back. “Prepackaged nipples are there, too. Just remove
the cardboard back from the nipple, uncap a bottle, and screw the nipple on
while it’s still sheathed in the plastic. This way, your hands never touch the
part going into the baby’s mouth.”

Under
Isabelle’s watchful eyes, he transferred the newborn to Tony then followed her
instructions. The second Tony popped the nipple near her mouth, Baby Girl
Martino quieted and focused all her energy on sucking the contents dry.

“Look
at her go. She’s got her mother’s appetite.” Justin flashed Isabelle a
thumbs-up as he leaned against the windowsill.

She
might have come up with a clever retort, but exhaustion claimed her, and she
yawned instead.

“Get
some sleep, Belle,” Justin crooned. “Your daughter’s in excellent hands.”

She
nodded. “I will. I just wanna watch for a while.”

Her
heavy lids fell, and she gave in to the aftereffects of fourteen hours’ hard
labor. She slept.  

~~~~

Xavia
waited until after visiting hours ended, when the hospital was dark and quiet,
to invade Isabelle’s dream. “Congratulations, Isabelle.”

This
time, she’d brought them to an authentic tea house. Authentic, as in… Japan?
The building’s architecture was definitely Japanese: winged edges to the tiled
roof, delicate lanterns hanging from the ceiling, paper and bamboo screens
serving as walls. Adding to Isabelle’s suspicions regarding their whereabouts,
Xavia wore a canary yellow kimono with elaborate embroidered black and white
cranes and a black obi sash. Instead of the cotton pajamas she’d worn in her
hospital bed, Isabelle was garbed in a scarlet kimono decorated with silver
dragonflies. They sat cross-legged on bamboo mats beneath an awning. Outside,
giant goldfish swam in the koi pond. Pink cherry blossoms on a regimented line
of trees dotted the azure sky. Off in the distance, the twangy sounds of a
stringed instrument added the perfect regional music to this dream world.

“Xavia?
How did you...? Are we in...?”

“One
of the perks of being dead,” she replied, nudging an elbow into Isabelle’s
ribs. “I like to visit places I never could have afforded when I was alive. And
I’d imagine at this stage, you’re tired of beds and the interiors of hospitals.
Okinawa seemed like a nice change of pace for both of us.”

“It’s
a beautiful surprise. Thank you.”

“Speaking
of beautiful surprises, I popped in to see your daughter. What a little doll!
She looks like a perfect combination of both her parents. His pretty blue eyes,
your sweet features.”

“You
saw her? Did Sean see her?”

Shaking
her head, she sighed. “He can’t. But I told him about her.”

“What’d
he say?”

“He’s
a man. Words aren’t his strong suit. And since I’m technically his boss, he
isn’t going to go all ga-ga in front of me. It’s not dignified.” She looked up
at the sky, inhaled a deep breath, exhaled with a pleased sigh. “But I know
he’s thrilled.”

“You
do? How?”

“Because
I know a proud daddy when I see one. He’s got this goofy look on his face, like
he dug the Grand Canyon all by himself with nuthin’ but a teaspoon. Like he did
all the work, and you were just the bystander. But we know better, don’t we?”
She winked. “Your little girl got a name?”

“Not
yet. I was...” She stared into the koi pond, watching the giant orange fish
splash the water into ripples. “I wanted to ask Sean if he had an opinion.”

“I’ll
ask him. Got any names in mind?”

A
cramp seared her thigh, and she uncurled her legs to rub at the sore area.
“Ava. Ava Rose. Or Lily. Lily Elizabeth.”

“Both
are pretty. Got a thing for flowers, huh? Lily and Rose?”

“They’ve
always been my favorites. And delphiniums, but that’s too big a mouthful for a
kid to learn.”

Xavia
smiled, tilted her head toward the sky, and nodded. “Ava Rose. He said he likes
Ava Rose.”

“Are
you talking to him now?”

“Yes.
He’s in my office with me.”

“Can
he see me?” Her gaze followed the same direction, scanning for some sign that
he was around.

“No.
That door is closed to you both. I’m the only way you can communicate with each
other. Think of me as your interpreter.” She paused, as if listening to some
other conversation, then snorted in amusement.

“What?”
Isabelle pressed. “What’d he say?”

“Nothing.
He’s being a smartass. More importantly, how are you feeling?”

“Like
Greyhound opened a bus station in my uterus.”

Xavia
cackled. “I hear ya. I was in labor for thirty-three hours with my son before
they opted to do a C-section. By then, I didn’t care if they sent in a SWAT
team to get him out. How’s the tumor? Giving you trouble?”

“A
little. Dr. Regalbuto’s monitoring its growth pattern. It hasn’t spread
anywhere else in my body, though, so that’s a good thing.” She traced a
knothole in the wooden floor beneath her. “Still, it’s just a matter of time
now.”

“Has
he given you any idea?”

“Definitely
within two years. How soon within two years is anybody’s guess.”

“You
still getting the headaches? And the memory lapses?”

A
lump rose in her throat, and she swallowed hard. “Uh-huh. And both are getting
progressively worse. But at least now, I’ll be able to take painkillers and
stuff to stave off the more severe symptoms for a while.” She leveled a steady
gaze at Xavia. “I’m not scared, you know. Everyone’s promising me that when the
time comes, they’ll make me as comfortable as possible.” Her stomach
flip-flopped.
When the time comes
. In other words, when she died. While
she managed to sound completely at ease with her prognosis for her audience,
inside, she was screaming at the unfairness of it all.

“That’s
good to hear.” Xavia rose, dusted off her rump with the palm of her hand. “I
guess it’s time for us to say goodbye, then. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you,
Isabelle. I wish you luck on the rest of your journey through the universe.”

She
struggled to her feet from her awkward position on the mat. The dream might
have brought her a world away and clothed her in silk, but she still had her
post-pregnancy belly to contend with. “Wait. You won’t be coming to see me
anymore?”

“There’s
no reason. You’re no longer a threat to yourself. Your future is securely on
its path. Sean and I are done here.” She clucked her tongue like a mother hen.
“Don’t look so frightened. You’re prepared for what’s to come and you’re going
to be fine! You don’t need us.”

Oh,
God, that was so not true! She was a frickin’ mess. Just a really good actress.
Couldn’t Xavia tell?

Maybe
not. Xavia didn’t know her that well. But Sean did. Sean would understand. She
had to talk to Sean. Tell him not to let her go. Not yet.

“But,
I don’t want to say goodbye. What if I want to talk to Sean about…” She prodded
her brain to think of something—some reason that might warrant a conversation.
“…about Ava?”

“You’ll
have to rely on yourself, Justin, and Tony now.”

“But
that’s not fair! I have stuff I want to tell him. I didn’t get the chance to
say—” She cut herself off before the words could leave her lips.

“What
did you want to say?” Xavia folded her arms over her chest. “This is your last
chance, doll. Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

No.
She wouldn’t tell Sean she loved him through an interpreter. That was too
weird. Even for them. Besides, it was unfair to burden him with those words
when realms separated them. After all, it wasn’t like if she said the words, “I
love you,” he’d magically become a mortal man again. No. She’d simply have to
let him go, console herself with their child—a living reminder of the love
she’d had in her life for a brief time.

“Just
tell him I said thank you,” she said on a sigh heavy with defeat. “And that
I’ll never forget him.”

“Why
didn’t you tell her?” Sean demanded when the screen went blank.

“Why
would I?” Xavia turned away from the board and glared across her desk at Sean.
“What the hell good would it do her to hear that?”

Yeah.
She had a point. “I know it’s crazy.”

“Crazy?
Oh, honey, you’ve blown past the crazy ramp. You’re now speeding toward the
exit for out of your ever-loving mind.”
          “I know.” He paced the
office, each footstep a thud that replaced the rhythm of his non-existent
heart. “You could’ve given her hope, though.”

“Why?
Because you plan to coerce the Board into giving you what you want? What if you
fail? What if they decide to punish you for your arrogance? Better she prepare
for the worst case scenario, because chances are, that’s what’s gonna happen.”
She let out an exasperated breath. “I know you won’t listen, but I’m gonna say
it anyway. Nice and slow, so maybe this time, it might get sucked into your
brain. Let. Her. Go.”

“I
can’t.”

Her
energy whipped into a frenzy, and her hands twitched like a madwoman’s. To hide
her jumpiness, she yanked open the top drawer of her desk and busied herself
with the invisible contents. All the while, her brain continued to consider the
repercussions, and she couldn’t stem the tide of words that poured from her
lips. “They’ll destroy you. Is that what you want? To become like your old
friends? ‘Pink glitter scattered all over the Chasm?’”

He
planted his fists on his hips. “If it means Belle gets to stay with Ava until
she’s grown, then…yeah. I’ll let them destroy me.”

Her
mind rebelled against his words, and she shook her head. “Why? Why would you
even consider such a thing?”

He
leaned across the desk until his face was inches from hers. “Because that’s
what someone does for the woman he loves!” After his shout, he sank into the
chair, his face pale. “Her happiness means more to me than my misery. I love
her. It’s that simple. I’ll do whatever they ask if it means she’ll stay safe.”

“Oh,
come on,” she scoffed. “You don’t really love her. You’re confusing your
professional relationship with love. It happens sometimes. Like when a doctor
falls for his patient.”

His
lips twisted in a grimace. “I’m not an idiot, Xavia.”

“I’m
not saying that you are.” Preferring not to rile him up, she kept her tone
deceptively bland. “But let’s face it. You can’t possibly be in love. You’re
dead.”

A
soft glimmer lit up his eyes, and he shook his head. “Dead has nothing to do
with love. Love goes on beyond death. I’ve even seen it here before. Because
that’s what Luc and Jodie had. They were soul mates. Not just love, but a deep,
abiding connection that spanned lifetimes and realms. They spontaneously
combusted rather than be apart. I’m in love with Isabelle. It’s why I could
communicate with her when she was awake, why she always sensed when I was watching
her. Why I was able to father a child with her. We’re bound together. And it’s
why I’ll risk total annihilation to keep her safe and happy.” He took a deep
breath, let it out slowly. “I have to go. They’re waiting for me.”

Before
she could continue the argument, he rose and strode away, toward what she
suspected would be his miserable end. Her entire body trembling, she buried her
face in her hands and willed the tears to remain in check. How had this
happened? How had she just lost her best friend? When had Sean become her best
friend? She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment, but now, fearing she might lose
him forever, her gut churned at the knowledge she’d never told him how much he
meant to her.

“Knock!
Knock!”

Her
head shot up, and a half-smile perked up her cheeks as Noah—
Contel
—walked
into her office. “Contel. What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to
see you—”

He
waved her off. “It’s cool.” His grin was broad, his eyes full of mischief. “I’m
in between hunts and antsy with pent-up energy. I thought I might persuade you
or Sean to come join me in some orb ball.”

“Sean’s
not here, but I’ll go.” She rose from the chair. “I could use the distraction
right now.” And the company of the one person who might help her heal her
heartbreak should she get distressing news about Sean.

She
got as far as the door when her board buzzed. Crap on a cracker, now what? She
held up a finger at Contel. “Give me one sec.”

While
her former son stood in the doorway, waiting, she hit the clipboard, bringing
the images to life. Of its own accord, her screen split in two. On the left,
Sean cooled his heels outside the auditorium, talking to Sherman. She couldn’t
hear the conversation, but sensed Sean’s agitation in his shuffling feet. On
the right, a smiling Isabelle buckled her baby into a car seat.

Dread
slammed Xavia full-force, and she fell back into her chair. “Oh, God. No. Not
now.”

“Xavia?”
Contel’s concerned prompt seemed to come from some far-off tunnel. “What’s
wrong?”

The
world around her faded, her focus riveted to the events unfolding on her
screen. Isabelle slid behind the wheel and drove onto a busy highway, singing a
nursery rhyme to the beautiful pink and blond angel in the back seat. When the
doting mom’s eyes darted to the rearview mirror to catch her daughter’s gurgle,
the tractor trailer ran the stoplight. On a screech of metal and the crash of
glass, the truck driver plowed head-on into the front end of the coupe. Screams
filled Xavia’s ears, along with the heartbreaking wails of an infant.

At
the exact same moment, on the other side of her screen, Sherman opened the
auditorium doors and ushered Sean inside.

“No!”
she shouted at the image of his retreating figure. “Sean, don’t!”

The
screen went blank.

Xavia
looked up at Contel, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Sean’s in trouble. I’m
going to the auditorium.”

He
jerked his shorn head, shrugged his agreement. “What are we waiting for? Let’s
go.”

~~~~

Sean
nodded a greeting to Contel as he passed the kid outside Xavia’s office. At
least, he’d managed to bring those two together. So if the Elders took him up
on his offer, he could console himself with the idea that he’d managed to ease
the heartache of several souls while he’d served his time here. Xavia and
Contel would be okay. And if all went according to plan, so would Isabelle and
Ava Rose. Ava Rose. His daughter. His little girl. A little girl who deserved
to keep her mother, no matter the cost to him.

He
wasn’t exactly sure how he’d phrase his argument, but he knew they’d consider
his offer this time. It wasn’t often a soul was willing to subject himself to
the living hell of the Chasm to gain his heart’s desire. But if that’s what
they wanted from him, so be it. He’d oblige.

As
usual, Sherman met him outside the double doors with a broad grin on his
wizened face. “You’re a lucky bastard. In all the time I’ve been here, no one’s
ever received a favor from the Board.” He nudged Sean with an elbow jab. “Bet I
know what you’re gonna ask for.”

“Bet
you don’t.”

“Oh,
come on. There isn’t a soul here who doesn’t want to move forward. If you’re
planning to ask for anything else, you’re wasting a once-in-eternity
opportunity.”

“It’s
mine to waste, isn’t it?” He had no intention of sharing his intentions with
Sherman—or anyone else who might try to talk him out of it. Xavia’s lecture
still echoed in his head.

Sherman
held up his dainty hands in a gesture of surrender. “I guess so.” He opened the
doors. “Go on in.”

Inside
the auditorium, his senses took a nosedive into a pool of confusion. In all the
times he’d entered this space—and his visits had to number in the thousands by
now—he’d grown accustomed to the lonely walk down the aisle, the empty seats,
the dais with the twelve Elders lined up at their table, waiting like a silent
jury. This time, the seats were filled with beautifully dressed people who sat,
transfixed at some film being shown on an enormous screen set up on the dais
where the Council of Elders normally waited. Since when did the Afterlife host
a “movie night?”

The
Elders, seated in the front row, rose as he approached, and each slid over one
chair to the right to make room for him.

“What’s
going on?” he asked under his breath.

“They’re
here for you,” she replied, her face aglow with pride. “And for her.” She
pointed at the screen where, a split second ago, he’d noticed nothing unusual.

Now,
Isabelle’s face appeared on the screen, singing
The Itsy Bitsy Spider
.
In the back seat, an infant—no more than six months old—gurgled. Ava. Sean
drank in his first view of his daughter: blond hair, big blue eyes, and rosy
cheeks.

“Pause.”

At
Verity’s pronouncement, Sean offered her a grateful smile. She must have
stopped the scene so he might have more time to stare at his beautiful baby
girl. “Thank you.”

“Don’t
thank me yet, Sean.” She left her seat and gestured for him to follow her to
the dais.

As
they ascended the staircase on the side of the stage, the audience rose to
their feet, applauding madly. A standing ovation? For him?

Once
she stopped to the left of the massive screen—his daughter’s smiling face at
least thirty feet wide and equally high from this vantage point—Verity raised
her hands, palms down, to signal everyone back into their seats. When they
obliged, she spoke again. “Before we continue with the viewing of Isabelle’s
day, the Board has agreed to grant her Probation Officer, Sean Martino, one
request.” She turned to him. “Now is your opportunity to make your request
known to the Elder Council and…” She swept an arm around the room, encompassing
the audience. “…the Board.”

This
huge crowd was the Board? He never would have guessed. He’d always thought of
the Board as a single entity—like God or Buddha or even Zeus. Luc, on the other
hand, used to joke that, with their luck, the Board was actually a giant panda
who did nothing but munch leaves all the time. Turned out they were both wrong.

“Sean?”
she prompted.

He
opened his mouth to speak, but a ruckus from the back of the room caught his
attention, and he stared in that direction. Pounding exploded from the
auditorium doors. No one else seemed to notice or care. All eyes remained
riveted to him.

“Sean?”
Verity repeated. “Your request?”

He’d
practiced his speech in his head at least a thousand times, and the words
flowed from his lips as well as his heart. “I respectfully request that I be
allowed to give my life for Isabelle Fichetti’s.”

The
auditorium doors burst open, letting in a stream of white light and Xavia, who
screamed, “Noooooo!” as she raced down the aisle toward the dais with Contel
right behind her.

At
last, all heads turned to watch the disturbance.

“Sean,”
she shouted. “Don’t. It’s a trick. Don’t say anything more.”

He
stared at her, aghast, and shook his head then pointed at the image on the
screen. “It’s not a trick. Look. That’s my baby girl up there. Isn’t she
beautiful?”

She
didn’t bother to make her way toward the stairs, remaining in the pit where she
gripped the edge of the stage and looked up at him. “They stopped the footage
there for a reason, Sean. Sixty seconds from now, a tractor-trailer is going to
ram into Isabelle’s car. I think she might already be dead.”

Dead?
God, no! Panic shook him. It couldn’t be true. He swerved his attention to
Verity, but her face remained impassive. Had she purposely paused the images on
the screen, not for him to get a closer look at his child, but so he wouldn’t
see what was about to occur?

Could
Isabelle be dead? Would the Elders put him through this only to tell him he was
too late, as some great cosmic joke? Or was this supposed to be the ultimate
test for him? Pass, and gain his heart’s desire. Fail, and everything he loved
was torn to shreds. The scenario could go either way. And he had no method to
discern truth from lies.

What
if Isabelle’s life currently hung in the balance? Simple. If she was still
alive, it was up to him now to tip the scales in Isabelle’s favor. But what if
she was already dead? Would he still “waste” his once-in-eternity opportunity?

It
was a chance he’d have to take.

He
offered Xavia a shrug and a somber smile. “All the more reason for me to make
my request now.” Ignoring her sharp gasp in reply, he straightened to face the
audience again. “I respectfully request that I be allowed to give my life for
Isabelle Fichetti. Allow her to live until long after our child is grown, and I
will serve whatever sentence the Board sees fit to pass down upon me.” Finished
with his prepared speech, he waited.

Silence
greeted his offer, but he stiffened his spine, locked his jaw, and continued to
wait. He would accept nothing less than a free pass for Isabelle.

“This
is your final request?” Verity asked.