Only in Dreams(13)

Colin sets me down, grabbing my bags as if they were empty. He carries them off out of sight, as I open my arms, wrapping them around my sweet Emmie and Olivia. “She’s so big!” I exclaim.

“Momma,” Olivia squeals in delight from the excitement in the room.

“Oh my God!” I gasp. “She sounds even cuter in person than over Skype.”

Emmie smiles and holds Olivia with one arm while wrapping her other around me. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too,” I reply, looking around the room, recognizing several works by my friend. “Oh, Em, this place is incredible. Your description doesn’t do it justice.”

Emmie nods, glancing at all she has accomplished over the past year. “We like it. We’re up to thirty consignment artists, and the list seems to be growing all the time. The online orders for my work keep Colin pretty busy with shipping.”

“Well, that and the woodworking, but why didn’t you tell me?” I inquire.

Emmie doesn’t reply. I look at her face as it twists into a horrific expression.

“Em? Are you okay?”

“I wanted to tell you so many times.”

“That Colin started his own business? Why would I—”

Emmie is shaking her head no, and suddenly it all makes sense. It feels like someone punched me in the gut. She can see it on my face. I can tell. The woodworking business isn’t Colin’s; it is his brother’s.

“When you called, I tried to tell you, but I just didn’t know how,” she pleads.

“How long has he been here?”

“He came to help us move in and get set up. He never left.”

“What?” I cry.

“He said he wanted to be an uncle. After a couple months, he started making furniture to sell at the local markets, and then they were so popular he—”

“I need to lay down,” I interrupt her, my head now spinning.

“Colin!” Emmie shouts, beckoning him from the room he had disappeared into.

I don’t even remember walking to the guest room. I vaguely recall some stairs, a green door, Colin saying some words, and then I am alone, in a room, my plan to seek refuge from my haunting past, from that horrible dream, coming undone.





I SIT ON the bed, staring at the floral wallpaper for quite some time. I remember Emmie knocking on the door, but I didn’t respond, I didn’t move, I just sat there, staring. I’m not even sure what I was thinking about, my thoughts had been jumping all over the place, all morning. Should I call Henry and tell him that Christian is in town? Would that make it into a bigger deal than it actually is? Is it a big deal? Christian is my past, which is long over. Perhaps it is a non-issue.

At some point I must have laid down and dozed off, because now, the bright afternoon sun that had been flooding into the room, has shifted into a hazy cast of dusk. Standing, I grab the suitcases Colin had set inside the door for me. Taking a deep breath, I swallow hard. Tossing the larger bag on the bed and unzipping it, I decide this is a non-issue. I’m sure Christian could care less that I’m here, so I won’t let it bother me either. After all, I’m happy now.

Looking around the room, I catch sight of a small, hand-painted teal dresser that is pushed back into a window cubby. Grabbing a stack of my blue jeans, I walk over, pulling out the second drawer, and neatly place my items inside. With a little bit of wiggling and maneuvering, I shove the drawer back into place, falling against the top of the dresser, catching myself with my palms as I do.

Just outside the window, I stare into the quaint courtyard directly next to the shop. At the back of the courtyard was another building set back from the street some. Movement near the entrance of the small business catches my attention. I hold my breath at the sight of Christian. He lifts a log, placing it across a seesaw, random tools strewn about him. It reminds me of when I used to watch him working with his brother on their properties in New York. They were like artists with what they did with some of those rehabs.

Panic overwhelms me as Christian looks up to the window, locking me into his gaze. He is only wearing a tank top now with his tattered and well-worn jeans. He uses the back of his forearm to wipe the sweat away from his brow. The entire time, though, he doesn’t take his eyes off me. Suddenly he smiles, and I find myself smiling back. Looking over, I realize I’m waving at him. Using my other hand, I pull my flailing arm down, which has developed a mind of its own, and push myself away from the window.

Before I realize what’s happening, the memories begin to play out before me, all the moments of our lives in New York—the happiness and laughter. I was okay with never seeing Christian again. I’d made peace with him no longer being a part of my life. Damn it, he’s not a part of my life. He’s Colin’s brother. Christian is part of their lives. He isn’t here because of me, I tell myself. He’s here to be an uncle to his niece, and I shouldn’t even be thinking about him.