Love in Dreams: Rescue (2 page)

The voice continued on, over and over, shouting down any of
Cass’s doubts.

Equal, Cass. Equal. You deserve a partner who treats you
like an equal.

Cass spent the night with a cold washcloth on her cheek and
her head resting uneasily on the toilet seat. By daybreak, she’d charted her
course. After she heard Preston stomp out of the house on his way to work, she
set the plan in action.

And now, even after a week of “normal” Preston and his
excessive expressions of remorse, she’d taken the most important step. She’d
refused to accept that Preston would control her life. He’d lost any claim to
her when he’d treated her like dirt.

“Don’t ever forget that, Cass Danby,” she told her
reflection. “No matter what.”

She pushed the accelerator down and clamped her hands around
the steering wheel.

“Go to hell, Preston,” she said softly. Then, louder: “Go to
motherfucking
hell!”

~~~

Cass stopped at a supermarket on the outskirts of Grand
Rapids , Minnesota. The cabin wouldn’t have power, at least for the first
night, so she grabbed simple food she could eat cold. She also picked up a
cheap cooler, ice, and a six pack of beer to keep her company. It wasn’t
something she’d normally do, but it felt extremely necessary given the circumstances.

As she stood in line at the cash register, a police officer
sidled up behind her. He was young and good-looking: short light brown hair,
clean-shaven face, stark blue eyes. He was lean and his uniform fit tight. He
had an impish smile dimpling his cheeks, and he employed that smile in full
force as he spoke casually in Cass’s direction.

“Looks like a party. Hot dogs, cold beer. I can surely
support that.”

Cass felt like a disheveled hag. Her hair was limp and dull.
Her eyes still felt crusty from lack of sleep. Her shapely figure was draped in
an oversized t-shirt and loose jeans. Her butt and back were sore from the
drive, and her posture felt permanently crooked.

In other words, now was not the time for banter. Even with
an admittedly handsome man in uniform.

“Just a few essentials,” she said. She flipped through a
handful of bills, hoping the twenty she’d remembered was actually in the wad of
cash she snagged from her nightstand. She sighed. It was.

“Nice all the tourists are gone by now,” the officer said.
“Streets are quiet and the stores are empty.”

“Sure,” Cass said. “I’m from the Cities, by the way.”

“Oh! Well, excuse me then. Thank you very much for your
hard-earned dollars, ma’am.” He was smiling wider, with his thumbs hooked into
his belt and eyebrows raised. His eyes seemed sharp and inquisitive underneath
the easy humor.

“Actually, I’m from here now,” Cass said quietly. “I think.”
She wasn’t sure why she was talking. It felt like she was holding back a flood
of words and emotions. This kind man, his openness, the friendly cashier, the
brightly lit small-town store – the calm Grand Rapids welcome was almost too
much to bear. She was three seconds away from unloading her entire tale.

The officer turned serious, as if he knew there was something
deep at work.

“We’re glad to have you, miss,” he said. He withdrew a card
from his shirt pocket. “I’m Officer Lincoln. If you ever need anything, you let
me know.”

Cass nodded once and took the card, and then turned to pay.
On her way out of the store she heard Officer Lincoln chatting amiably with the
cashier. Though she was hurrying, partly out of embarrassment and partly out of
fear that Preston was lurking in the parking lot, she found a tiny bit of
comfort in the man’s voice. His dark green cruiser was the only other car
around.

“Stop worrying,” Cass told herself. Preston would have no
way of knowing she was in Grand Rapids. She sat in the car and took ten deep
breaths, and on the tenth, she actually believed herself.

The road out to the cabin gradually morphed from a recently
resurfaced two-lane highway to a rough old mining road, and then, as she neared
Lake Pokegama, a gravel road with washboard ridges that made Cass’s teeth clack
together as her trusty Saturn bounced her toward safety. Pine trees leaned in
from both sides, nearly blocking out the afternoon sun. The road twisted often.
At one point, an old blue pickup barreled around a corner and forced Cass
toward a ditch. The driver, a gray-haired woman with a frown permanently etched
by deep lines in her forehead, gave her a quick glance and then sped along her
way.

Cass steered carefully toward the old cabin her grandparents
had built in the late 70’s. When she’d been little, the slice of lakefront property
was a place of wonder – a quiet, magical world anchored by the cozy barebones
cabin on a tree-lined bluff above the lake. Cass could negotiate steep metal
stairs down to a small dock and pebbled beach; she could wander in the woods
for hours, moving so quietly the deer and rabbits and birds barely noticed her;
and when she was old enough, she could paddle a kayak until she was almost out
of sight of her grandparents’ watchful gazes from the cabin’s back porch.

At night, she’d curl up on the big orange couch in the
living room. A huge picture window faced the lake. Cass would stare out into
the depths of the night until she fell asleep, and there, only there, the
prospect of such darkness wasn’t frightening.

It was such an idyllic setting, and so firmly fixed in her
memory, that Cass was shocked when she finally pulled into the long driveway as
overgrown with underbrush as she remembered...and found a second cabin in a
neighboring lot. Entire stands of trees had been cleared, all for a ramshackle
looking structure that seemed even more abandoned than her grandparents’ place.
Even though what Cass instantly called the “Imposter Cabin” was a hundred yards
away, it made her feel like someone was standing right behind her and breathing
down her neck.

“Well, shit,” she muttered as her car crunched to a stop in
the gravel parking area both cabins now, apparently, shared. “Nothing like
meeting new neighbors.”

Cass unloaded the car quickly, placing her red suitcase, two
bags of groceries, and the cooler on the back porch before she began hunting
for the cabin’s spare key. The search took her a few nervous minutes. She
really didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. Not ever.

“Where is it where is it
whereisit!
” she whispered,
glancing over her shoulder at the Imposter Cabin while she poked around a
cluster of shrubs near the porch. Then she saw the large round rock she
remembered. Sure enough, the key was underneath, wrapped in a tattered Ziploc
bag.

“Like always,” she said.

Cass’s Grandpa Al had had enormous faith in the goodness of
people.

“This key will always be here,” he’d told Cass when, as a
teenager, she’d admonished him about safety, “because people around us are good
people. Good. People.”

As she thumped up the steps to the back door, Cass heard
whining and a chain rattling next door.

“Great. Imposter Cabin has a dog, too. Typical.”

She shrugged as she wiggled the key into the sticky lock,
then let out a sigh of relief when the door swung open and the familiar pine
scent of the cabin’s unfinished back room wrapped itself around her and
welcomed Cass home. The tension eased from her shoulders and neck. Cass nearly
wept when she clicked the door shut behind her. She almost expected Grandpa Al,
who’d passed when Cass was twenty, to walk in from the small kitchen and demand
that she drop her bags so he could wrap her in a huge, crushing hug.

In reality, the cabin was empty. The kitchen was dusty. The
picture window was cloudy with the grime of age and many harsh winters. But
Cass didn’t mind a bit. She plopped on to the dusty orange couch, leaned back,
closed her eyes, and fell asleep to the memory of all the summer visits and all
the laughter and warmth the cabin had shared so many years ago.

~~~

Cass slept deeply, so much so that when she awoke she didn’t
know where she was. Her entire body ached with a desire for more rest. Her
brain was foggy. A dog barked in the distance, the noise echoing in the forest.
She reached out to steady herself on an end table that wasn’t there. She wasn’t
in her old living room. The picture window in front of her displayed fading
golden sunlight and small, steady ripples across a lake. That wasn’t her TV.
The floor was cold hardwood, not carpet.

The lake. The cabin. Barking. Barking. Panicked barking.
Cass’s mind started working again. The dog, the dog from the dream, a dream of
which she could only remember small impressions. The animal was gray. Green
eyes. It was following her. Not threatening. Not curious. Desperate.

Starving.

Cass shook the cobwebs away and checked her watch. Six p.m.
She’d slept for three solid hours. Her entire body felt like it was made of
clay. She knew she could fall asleep again in an instant, but she had to eat.
Plus, somewhere in that dream she’d realized she should move her car. The
thought had burned its way into a top priority: Why risk someone seeing the
Saturn from the driveway?

Cass stood and stretched, and then rummaged around a small
closet until she found a box of candles and a pack of matches. She placed
candles on a coffee table in the living room, on the kitchen counter, and on a
stool near the back door. Then she headed outside to move the car.

The cool evening air thrilled her awake. There was nothing,
absolutely nothing, like the sensation of walking among the pines right before
sunset. The fresh loamy scent of earth, the crisp wind coming off the lake, and
the soft sound of swaying trees greeted Cass like old friends. The dog,
wherever it was, had stopped barking.

Cass started up the Saturn and backed it around to the
lakefront side of the cabin, parking under the kitchen window. She patted the
steering wheel once, whispering “Thanks, old buddy,” and locked the car.

A single bark pierced the calm.

Starving.

It was the neighbor’s dog. The noise was close. Cass heard
chains clanking again. Another bark.

Starving.

Cass paused near the back door of the cabin. She could go
inside, light some candles, and relax with a beer. Or she could go meet whoever
lived next door and maybe, just maybe, get the dog to quiet down.

She trudged toward the Imposter Cabin. Her feet crunched
gravel. As she neared the structure, the clanking of the chains grew louder.

The neighbors’ cabin was a perfect square, as if it was
packaged and sold by catalog. It had dark red siding and a black roof covered
with old branches and pine needles. Bushes had grown wildly on all sides, even
the front. The door was barely visible. No car in the driveway, no lights on
inside. The cabin had small, square windows. All the blinds were closed tight.
It gave Cass an odd feeling, like someone was in there watching through a tiny
crack.

Still, she crept around the cabin and headed toward the
back. When she turned the corner, she saw it.

A ragged, gray wolf-like dog lay panting on its side. Its
ribs were so prominent that Cass stifled a gasp. When the dog heard her, it
raised its head and barked once. Then it lurched on to unsteady legs and walked
slowly toward her, head down, its oddly shimmering green eyes wary and hopeful
at the same time.

Cass dropped to one knee immediately and said, “Come here,
boy.” It was instinctive. She’d never been comfortable around dogs, especially
upon first meeting, but this one was so sickly, and so shy, that she didn’t
think twice about exposing herself.

“Here boy,” she repeated. She tilted her head side to side
to examine the dog as it took one slow step at a time. Clearly a male, clearly
famished. Possibly abused – scars lined its shoulders and neck, where a heavy
chain was secured much too tightly.

The dog was within reach. He sniffed cautiously as Cass
extended her hand, and then dipped his head again. She touched the bridge of
his nose with two fingers, smoothing them upward and then scratching behind one
ear.

The dog closed his eyes and staggered forward.

“You like that, do you?” Cass whispered.

The dog advanced, leaning against Cass heavily as she
stroked his head. His breathing slowed, interrupted every few seconds by small
whines.

Cass rubbed the dog’s shoulder and studied the area. No
water bowl, no food bowl. A bare dirt patch near the house functioned as a bed.
Excrement in small piles at the farthest reach of the chain, near the edge of
the woods.

“How long have you been here, pup?” she murmured. “Seems
like forever.”

The dog sighed and sat on his haunches. Cass massaged his
sides and cringed when her hand pressed against the hard ridge of each rib.

“You need some food, big fella?” she asked. The dog, or
wolf, could have been monstrous, she realized. He had long legs and huge paws.
Possibly, with a healthy diet, a broad and powerful chest. His head, when he
rested it in her hands, was heavy and his snout was long.

The dog’s eyes remained closed, as if he was enjoying his
first human contact in months. It was probably true, Cass realized. She was
dealing with an abandoned animal. There was no other possible way he could be
so neglected.

Cass stood slowly. The dog’s eyes eased open. There was a
pleading there, the desperation she’d felt in the dream still pawing at her
subconscious.

“I’ll be back with some food,” she said. “And water. And a
blanket. Ok?”

The dog merely watched her as she backed away. He sank to
the ground and rested his head on his paws, choosing a spot near the edge of
the cabin that allowed him to follow her entire walk back with a faraway stare.

It was almost dark. Cass stumbled a bit as she walked up the
stairs. She peered toward the neighbors’ place and could just make out the
dog’s head. His green eyes were eerily clear, like animals’ eyes always are at
odd times of night. She felt a pang of dizziness and had to force herself to
break away from the dog’s surprising intensity.