Beloved Lives Page 5

  Everyone laughed.

  “Just make sure your name is on your sheet if you want it scored.”

  After class, Mitch escaped the gaggle of girls to speak with April and Trish. “I can’t make it to the coffeehouse tonight. My company is sending me out of town for a few days. I have to leave first thing in the morning. The flight is at 6:00 a.m.”

  “Can planes even fly that early?” April asked, laughing.

  “I certainly hope so,” Mitch answered, smiling at her.

  “How long does it take you to get to the airport from your place?” Trish asked.

  “About forty minutes at that hour. It makes for a long day.” He turned to April. “I’ll call when I get back on Wednesday, okay?”

  “That would be good. Where are you flying to?”

  “Minneapolis.”

  “You have my deepest sympathy,” Trish said.

  Trish and April decided to call it an early night. Being psychic, whether you believed in it or not, must take some real effort, they decided, because they were both feeling drained.

  When April got out of Trish’s little car, she scanned the street, looking for the silver Mercedes. It was nowhere in sight. She wondered how long it had been parking on her street before Trish noticed it that first time. Was it the same car every time? Dr. Weston’s car? And if so, why had it been there? Could there really be more than one like it in the neighborhood?

  Winston was sound asleep on the sofa and didn’t stir when April came into the house. By the time she was ready for bed, after brushing her teeth and setting her alarm, she missed her dark monster. Padding into the living room, she gathered his snoring mass into her arms then carefully carried him into the bedroom, laying him at the foot of the bed where he usually slept.

  Between her morning workout, the weird visit from Weston, and the Zener card exercise, April was barely able to keep her eyes open long enough to read two pages of her current space opera. Because it was a hefty tome, to avoid falling asleep and smashing her nose when the book dropped on her face, she set it aside and snapped off the light. Immediately, she drifted off and slipped into the dream that had haunted her for more than a decade.

  Chapter 10. Waves and Circles

  This time her dream began with Zener cards, slowly parading one after another—circle, square, star, cross, waves. After a few rounds, the waves came to stay and resolved themselves into a river, lazy and sweet, warm and rocking, cradle-like, carrying her along on a slow current. Shores on either side were distant and low, barely above the level of the water. She drifted along, floating on her back, her head downriver, her feet toward the source.

  After a while she began drifting more quickly, the shorelines rising higher and drawing nearer at the same time. Now she became aware of the faintest sound, perhaps made by distant rapids, a cataract, or a waterfall. She wanted to roll over, so she could see where she was going, but as in so many dreams, she could not move.

  The current was becoming more swift, the rushing sound louder. There was something familiar about the channel narrowing, moving toward a lighter sky overhead, narrowly seen between the ever-closer, more tightly wrapped canyon walls. But something was missing. There was supposed to be a pulse, a beating rhythm. The sound she heard instead was strange—a low whine, growing louder and louder, becoming a distant and finally nearer keen. Then it hit her, the pain that seared through her, crushed her, igniting every nerve, inside, outside her body. Now she knew the sound was her own screaming, without end or hope.

  Except there was a pat, pat, pat and another sound. Pat, pat, pat on her face, and a sad and lost meowing. April’s eyes opened, and she saw Winston patting her face with his paw, meowing at her like a kitten caught in a storm.

  “Oh, baby,” she rasped in a scream-roughened voice, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  She gathered her cat in her arms and cried into his fur, fiercely whispering, “This crap has got to stop.”

  * * *

  In the morning after a long, exhausting night, April got to work on time but tousled and barely pulled together. She immediately found Judith and asked if she could talk to her privately.

  “What is it, dear?” Judith asked, once they were seated in her tiny cube of an office.

  April was fairly certain her boss was noticing the dark circles under her eyes and her lack of natural exuberance. Even hung over, April tried to be cheerful at work. She wasn't feeling cheerful today, and it probably showed.

  “Can you tell me anything about the employee assistance program? Counseling and all that?” April asked.

  “Not that it’s any of my business, but is there anything you’d like to talk about? Does it have anything to do with you fainting?”

  “No, nothing to do with that.” April thought a moment. “But, yes, it is time I talk about it. It’s just that I’m not sure what to say.” She shifted in her chair. “I have nightmares. I’ve had them on and off since before high school. They went away when I married Sam, but they’re back now. They are horrible and keep me from sleeping, and they disturb my cat. Poor Winston is a wreck.”

  Judith smiled then apologized. “I’m sorry, but it just seems like you’re more concerned about your cat than yourself.”

  April laughed. Just making up her mind to talk about the dreams seemed to be helping. “Well,he is a delicate little thing.”

  “We are talking about the same cat, aren’t we? The huge black beast?”

  “He’s still a kitten inside.”

  Judith was quiet for a short time then said, “The sleep lab might be a place to start. Let me talk with Doc Steiner. There’s usually a waiting list, but he can be pretty influential when he sets his mind to it. He should be able to get you a slot.”

  “I never thought about the sleep lab. I figured I should talk to a shrink or something, but this seems like a better idea. Yes, please talk with Doc. I really appreciate the help, Judith.”

  April stood up and started for the little office’s door then turned. “If it’s okay with you, I’d just as soon you didn’t mention this to anyone else.”

  “Of course, I won't. It’s no one else’s business. And don’t worry, I’ll figure out the paperwork for you. This should be covered by the assistance program,” Judith said, smiling.

  That day, April kept herself busy and avoided the employee cafeteria in case she should run into Weston or anyone else who might be curious about her rough-looking state. In spite of the promises made by various cosmetic companies, she had discovered that black eye circles cannot be covered with makeup.

  When she got home, she and Winston went for a run then ate dinner, sitting together on the kitchen floor, Winston having tuna and April tuna salad. Afterward, Winston settled his bulk into her lap while they watched a really bad disaster movie that contained an improbable romance and some of the worst special effects they had ever witnessed—perfect mindless entertainment.

  By bedtime, April was apprehensive. Would the dream come back tonight? Only one way to find out.

  Chapter 11. Service Cat

  Three times during the night, Winston woke April. Both of them were tired and a little cranky by the time the alarm went off, but her throat wasn’t raw.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m doing something about this. I promise,” she assured Winston, as she locked the front door behind herself and headed for work.

  Because she only lived four blocks from the hospital, April walked to work every day, rain or shine, sleet or snow. Her ex-husband had been more interested in their jointly-owned, shiny new wheels than a house close to a hospital, so April hadn’t owned a car since the divorce settlement. She found she didn’t miss having one, except when she had to tote big, heavy boxes of kitty litter home from the store. Thank goodness, Trish was always happy to lend a hand with those shopping trips.

  April had barely entered the lab when Judith pulled her into the office.

  “I talked with Doc Steiner last night. I told him how important you are to the l
ab.”

  “Oh, no—” April tried to protest.

  “Now, don’t get all modest on me,” Judith insisted. “You know you show up no matter what and almost never call in sick and always do a good job.”

  April showed up for work even when there was a howling blizzard and three feet of snow on the ground, mainly because she lived within spitting distance of the hospital and knew someone had to keep the place going. After all, sick people couldn’t just stop being sick when the weather was bad.

  “Anyway,” Judith continued, “he called the sleep lab right then, and they’ve got a cancellation on Friday night, so you can check it out today. Here’s the number to call, and they’ll tell you what you have to do.”

  “Wow, that’s amazing. Thanks so much, Judith. You’re the best boss in the world.”

  “Thank you. Now get hoppin’. We got a million samples overnight, and we’re swamped.” Judith shooed her toward the door.

  “Knew there was a catch,” April said, laughing.

  * * *

  Later that morning, April called the sleep lab phone number. On her lunch break she went down to get the pamphlets that described what she was supposed to do before she came in on Friday evening. After work, April read all the materials provided. She’d need to keep a sleep diary for the rest of the week, bring pajamas, a tooth brush, a book if she usually read one before sleeping, and clothes for the next day.

  “It doesn’t look like they’ll let me bring you, Winston.” She wasn’t sure she’d be able to sleep without him, but they got a bit touchy about animals in the hospital, other than service dogs and such.

  “Maybe since you keep me from having bad dreams, we can register you as a service cat. What do you think?” she asked her black monster as they settled in for another night of television.

  Winston seemed amenable to the idea.

  The phone rang, and Trish’s number popped up on the caller ID.

  “What’s shakin’?” she asked.

  “I’m glad you called,” April said. “What do you think about sleeping over here this Friday night?”

  “A girlie night in? Sounds like a good time,” Trish said.

  April could hear her taking a sip of what was probably wine.

  “Not exactly. I need you to stay with Winston while I go to the sleep lab.”

  The phone was silent.

  “Are you there, Trish?”

  “Yes, I’m just absorbing the strangeness of this conversation. First, good, you’re finally getting some help for those awful dreams. Second, why are you finally getting help? Are they getting worse? Can you finally remember them? Third, you need a cat sitter for one night? What’s up with that?”

  April explained everything that had happened over the last two nights. She was finally remembering the dream, and it still made no sense. She told Trish about getting into the lab with her boss’s help. “I just don’t want to leave Winston home alone. He’s been through so much lately.”

  “He’s been through so much? Girl, you must be trashed. Do you need company? Are you okay? Can I do anything tonight?”

  “No, I’m fine. Winston’s got me penned, and we’re catching up on our recorded programs.” April stroked Winston’s back then tickled him under the chin.

  “All right, but if you need anything, you let me know. And of course, I’ll stay with Winny.”

  “You know he hates that nickname.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “He shreds people who call him that.”

  “Winston, it is, then.”

  Chapter 12. Boy Talk

  That night, April slept soundly and without any dreams she could remember. On Wednesday evening, Mitch called and regaled her with tales of airport-security strip searches, taxi drivers who spoke thoroughly incomprehensible languages never previously recorded, and administering tests to people who had a hard time figuring out which end of a pencil to use but were entrusted with vast amounts of money and power. April laughed so hard her ribs hurt.

  Winston kept meowing and prowling and pawing at the phone until she held it to his ear and let Mitch talk to him. Satisfied, Winston jumped down from the sofa and began to groom himself thoroughly.

  “What did you two have to say to each other?” April asked, mystified.

  “Boy talk. You wouldn’t understand.”

  “Guess not.”

  “What time would you like for me to pick you up on Saturday?”

  “What time is good for you?” she asked cautiously.

  “How about 10:00 a.m.?”

  April laughed. That’s my line, she thought. “How about 5:00 p.m.? I’ve got to get some laundry done earlier in the day.”

  “Sounds good,” Mitch answered. “If you want a drink before dinner we can wander around in Westport or maybe the Power and Light District.”

  “That sounds like a plan.” April thought a second. “You know, there might be some free music someplace. I haven’t checked the schedules lately.”

  “Too bad we missed First Friday at the Crossroads. I wasn’t thinking clearly last week. You dazzled me. It’s always chaos in good weather like this, but who can resist art show openings?”

  “I've got to confess,” said April, “it's usually the free wine and appetizers that get my attention. Free works well with my budget. And I like crowds. I'm a big people watcher.”

  “Speaking of Fridays, would you rather get together on Friday instead of Saturday? Or maybe both?” he asked with a hopeful note in his voice.

  “Ordinarily, yes, please, both, but I’ve got something I’ve got to do this Friday. But we should definitely plan on First Friday next month. Okay?”

  She was a little nervous about saying no and afraid he might want to know what she had scheduled this Friday. But he only said, “That sounds great. So…Saturday at five at your place.”

  “Say,” April said, suddenly remembering the Zener card tests from last Sunday's class, “did you ever get a chance to figure out if Trish and I are psychic?”

  There was a short but significant pause before Mitch said, “We should get together with Trish and discuss that in person.”

  What did that mean?

  “Okay,” April said. “Maybe Trish can meet us for a drink down at the Power and Light before we go to dinner. How does that sound?”

  “It might be better if we met at your place where it’s quieter—if that’s all right.”

  This was starting to sound ominous. “Sure. That would be fine. Should I be worried?”

  Mitch laughed. “No, it’s just complicated. I’ll see you at five on Saturday.”

  When the phone call ended, April hugged her phone.

  “What do you think, Winston? He’s pretty nice, isn’t he?”

  Winston jumped back into her lap and purred with a deafening rumble. April put the phone down and stroked her black beast, as they returned to their television program, watching Timothy Olyphant being morally ambiguous.

  Chapter 13. Sleep Lab

  Winston and April fell asleep on the sofa. As far as she could tell, neither of them had a single dream, but April woke up with a terrific cramp in her neck. Still, she was awake and feeling well-rested even before her alarm went off.

  April’s Thursday, or “Friday Eve,” as they called it in the lab, was uneventful, with most of her time dedicated to running chemistries. She spent her evening on the phone, plotting logistics with all the usual suspects for the annual expedition to Shakespeare in the Park.

  She and Trish, Trish’s friend, Ravenna, and some of the folks from the lab had the routine pretty much down. The menu might vary from year to year but always included champagne and cucumber sandwiches. This year’s burning question was whether they should they do a fruit and cheese assortment or something heartier. By bedtime, the debate was unresolved.

  The day after Friday Eve, or, as it was known in the lab, Friday, was marked by the novelty of a company rep from one of the lab's suppliers bringing assorted pastries to the break area
. Treats were more common around Christmas than in the middle of the summer, so this was a nice surprise. Sadly, the chocolate-covered, custard-filled donuts disappeared before April could get one, a blessing for her diet but a curse for her taste buds.

  Truth be told, the week had been so uneventful that April was beginning to wonder if she really needed to go to the sleep lab at all. She’d been keeping her sleep diary, but there hadn't been much to report. To make up for the lack of data, she backtracked to the best of her ability, filling in the dreams from earlier in the week and the week before.

  She was just leaving the employee cafeteria when she ran into Dr. Weston. Even in surgery scrubs, he looked pressed and polished. And tall and tidy. And natty and neat. Stop it, she thought to herself.

  “April, I haven’t seen you in a while. How are you?” he asked.

  “I’m great,” she said cautiously.

  “I’m glad I ran into you. You said you go to the ballet sometimes. A patient gave me some tickets to the performance of the Russian Ballet’s touring company next weekend. I wondered —”

  “I have a boyfriend,” April blurted.

  Weston smiled slowly. “I have four tickets. Perhaps you and he and your charming friend Trish would like to go with me?”

  Oh, April thought, mentally taking a step back. He’s been smitten by Trish. Well, that makes sense.

  “Oh. Um, let me ask them. How soon do you need to know?”

  “This Sunday would be soon enough,” he said. “Here’s my number.”

  He handed her his card. An embossed card. On heavy card stock. Not the standard cards the hospital issued. These were custom.

  Who carries cards in their scrubs pockets? Apparently, Dr. Winston Weston did.

  Well, well, April thought, as she worked her way through the rest of her day. Maybe Trish would get her rich, tall, handsome doctor, after all. They’d make a stunning couple. Except April still didn’t like him. Then again, Trish was April's best friend, so maybe “Winny” would grow on her. Maybe.