Second Chances (118 page)

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Authors: Nicole Andrews Moore

BOOK: Second Chances
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The pilot’s voice boomed over the speakers, “Please fasten your seatbelts.  It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

 

If she weren’t already so nervous, Sarah would have laughed.  How many times had she used that expression to refer to her life?  And now she was experiencing it literally.  The tiny commuter plane shuddered and bounced around.  The overhead compartments released luggage as the plane swayed and struggled to remain on course. 

 

After one particularly vicious jolt, bags rained down on her, hitting her about the head and neck.  An image flashed before her.  The luggage was hitting her in her dream just as it was now.  Obviously there was something important about this event, but she couldn’t hold onto it long enough to see it through.  Instead, she was distracted by the elderly couple to her right.  The husband had a fresh gash on his bald head that his wife was trying desperately to cover with his handkerchief and she was having little success. 

 

 

Sarah reached over and lent a hand.  She had been utterly surprised, caught completely off guard.  Disgusted with herself, she positioned the handkerchief for them and then began to pick up the offending baggage.  In her efforts to help restore the luggage to its rightful location she never realized that her amulet dropped noiselessly to the floor.  And then with the next erratic movement of the plane, it slid forward under the seat in front of her and for the remainder of the flight went entirely unnoticed.

 

The flight finally landed at Logan, and though she was unharmed, she couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom that seemed to engulf her.  It remained with her as she exited the plane.  It stayed in the pit of her stomach as she made her way from the gate.  And it only seemed to intensify as she neared the exit where Sarah expected to meet her ride.

An older gentleman was holding a sign bearing her name.  Shyly, she walked over to him and introduced herself.  The only luggage she brought was her briefcase, but he insisted on carrying it for her.  As he opened the limousine door, she reached for the bag, hoping for a few minutes to review her notes more during the ride, intent upon a distraction, but the driver was placing it in the trunk.  He seemed so old and fragile that Sarah wouldn’t dream of making him remove it once more.  With a sigh and a shrug, she stood solemnly by the car door and waited for him to open it.

 

 

James’ expression was one of immense sorrow.  He didn’t want to do this.  He had no desire to be here or have any part of Master Evan’s sinister plan.  Unfortunately, he was trusted.  And even more unfortunately, he was loyal.  At the same time he was torn between his role as the dutiful servant and his deep desire to do what was right.  And hurting Dr. White was wrong.  He closed Sarah’s door and slid into the driver’s seat.  Taking a deep breath, he lowered the divider to speak to her briefly.

 

“The flowers are for you, miss,” he said quietly.  He had to leave the divider down long enough to see that everything was moving according to plan.  To his dismay, it was.

 

“Oh,” she murmured.  She picked up the bouquet, searching for a card, but found none.  “They’re beautiful.”   Then she did what every woman who receives flowers does.  Yet even as the image of her sniffing the bouquet popped into her head, it was already too late.

 

James squeezed his eyes shut as far as he dared while he drove.  He glanced in the mirror in time to see her hold the bouquet to her nose and inhale deeply.  That was all it took.  Her eyes rolled back in her head and she seemed to collapse and slide off the seat all at once.  Brow growing more furrowed and wrinkly by the minute, he pushed the button that raised the divider and placed a call on the cell phone.

 

Before he could speak, Evan was already grilling him.  “Did it work?”  His voice was intense.

 

“Yes, sir,” James replied.

 

“Excellent.  You should be here in fifteen minutes.  Everything is in place.  I will be waiting.”

 

 

Brian had been working in the office while Chloe played in the living room.  All at once he shuddered and knew instinctively something was wrong.  He sat up straight in his chair, found he could no longer concentrate on putting the finishing touches on his course syllabus and walked slowly out to the living room, as though in a daze.  Chloe’s look mirrored his own.

 

“Do you feel it, too?”  She asked sadly as she sat frozen to her place on the living room floor.

 

He wanted to comfort her.  He wanted to tell her she was overreacting.  For any other child, this might have sufficed, but since Chloe could read his thoughts, it would do no good to lie to her.  He had never done so before, and even in an effort to protect her he couldn’t start now.  “Let’s give her a few hours to call.  She promised she would call as soon as possible and your mom has never failed to keep her promise.”  Brian held out his arms to the little girl.

 

“What do we do after she doesn’t call?”  Chloe asked quietly since she was already certain that she would not be hearing from her mother any time soon.

 

“We’ll gather reinforcements,” he said honestly, already formulating a plan in his head while he hugged Chloe close

 

 

Several hours later, Sarah awoke in a strange room.  Fighting the panic that built in her chest, she tried to concentrate on what she last remembered.  The plane landed.  She was met by a limo.  Was that it?  There had to be more.  She fought to reclaim more of the missing details.  Her head was pounding.  She looked around the room.  Immediately, a wave of sadness overtook her.  She had ended up here in her dream as well.  She hadn’t received any flashes in time to do anything to alter the course of events.  It was like her father’s death all over again. 

 

She swallowed sadly as she acquainted herself with her surroundings.  It was a big room, classic décor,
neutral colors.  She might have liked it, except that it seemed too sterile for her.  There should be personal items, something to brighten it up.  Maybe some fresh cut flowers.  She shook her head as if trying to clear her thoughts.  The damn flowers.  She had sniffed them and passed out.  It was all coming back to her now.

 

Refusing to panic, she tried to sit up, but her head was so fuzzy and it ached so badly.   A glass of water waited on the nightstand beside her along with some pills that resembled ibuprofen.  Despite the urge to rid herself of the headache, she refused to take any unidentified medication.  Look what happened when she was given something as innocuous as a bouquet of flowers.

 

Picking up the glass of water, she looked at the bottom, checking to see if there was any residue settled at the base of the glass.  Nothing.  She sniffed it.  No strange odor.  Sarah allowed the slightest sip to dampen her lips and tongue.  She waited to analyze the aftertaste.  Yet there wasn’t one.  Cautiously she took a few more swigs from the glass.  Setting it back on the nightstand, she pondered her next move, but she was really sleepy.  After just a little more sleep maybe she could come up with some answers.

 

 

It was two-thirty in the afternoon.  Sarah should have been wrapping up at her conference by now.  Brian had done everything he could think of to entertain Chloe.  He had taken her out for lunch at Al’s French Fries.  They had gone to Pizza Putt to play eighteen holes of her favorite indoor miniature golf course.  Every once in a while he would check his phone for a signal or to see if in the noise he had somehow missed a call.  And every time he attempted to hide his disappointment and growing concern since he hadn’t.  Finally, he could no longer mask his feelings.

 

“Let’s go visit your grandma,” he said quietly.

 

And without emitting a single word, Chloe trustingly placed her hand in his and walked out to the waiting car.

 

 

Anna met them at the door.  “Come on in,” she said as brightly as she could, despite the strain her face revealed.  “Chloe… uh…”

 

“I know,” the little girl began morosely.  “I’ll pick a craft from the closet and get out of the way.”                           

 

Her grandmother tried to smile, but she was wringing her hands.  “Thank you, honey.”  The adults watched as she moped from the room.  As soon as they heard the closet open, they began to talk freely.  “It’s Sarah, isn’t it?”  She asked nervously.

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