Daniel stood and watched the train until it disappeared, hardly noticing the hot sidewalk under his bare feet, hardly noticing the pain in his shoulder.
What had he expected? Nothing in their so-called relationship had merited a handshake, let alone a heartfelt goodbye.
Maybe it wasn’t love. Maybe he was jealous because she was leaving, moving on to someplace new and unknown. Maybe he was attracted to her because of what she represented-the world, everything that wasn’t this, wasn’t here, someone rare, someone unique, someone exotic and strange and wonderful.
No, maybe it wasn’t love.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cleo was having the dream again. Not the pumpkin dream. She hadn’t had that since leaving Egypt. No, this was a different dream. A warm, lovely dream.
Daniel Sinclair was there. The sky was vast and blue, the grass beneath their feet as green and welcoming as tomorrow. Somewhere in the distance she heard the sound of the North Atlantic pounding against solid cliffs, and the cry of gulls overhead.
In the dream she had a secret, a wonderful secret she’d saved until this moment, this one perfect moment.
He knew she couldn’t have children, but his love for her was strong. “We’ll adopt,” he’d told her. But she’d seen the flicker of sadness in his eyes. It had lasted only a moment, but she’d seen it. You know these things about the people you love.
They walked, holding hands, fingers lightly brushing fingers. She swung around to face him. She wanted to see his happiness when she told him. “I’m going to have a baby.”
First there was a flash of joy, then confusion, then joy again. “How? Are you sure?”
She took his hand and pressed it gently to a stomach that had just the slightest swell. She nodded, smiling up at him. “They did an ultrasound to be certain.”
He pulled her into his strong, warm, comforting arms. He smelled like the sea, and he smelled like the sun, and he smelled like Daniel.
She took his face in both her hands, pulling him closer. And then his lips touched hers, all warm and soft. “I love you,” he said. “I love you so much.”
A shrill scream came out of nowhere, pulling Cleo partially out of the dream.
“Mom!”
From somewhere in the distance, somewhere far away from her dream, a child shrieked. “I was watching TV first and Carmen changed channels! Mom! Dad!”
Cleo awoke with a jolt, finding herself in her niece’s bed.
She closed her eyes and rolled to her stomach. She wanted to go back to sleep. Sometimes if she woke up in the middle of a dream, she could concentrate and get herself back there.
“Mom!”
Not this time.
Cleo rolled to her back, tossed off the Peter Rabbit covers, and sat on the edge of the bed. The digital clock read 6:30. She rubbed her face. How come kids liked to get up early, but adults never wanted to get out of bed? What happened there? Was it because kids thought of each new day as a wonderful adventure, while adults knew the truth?
Barefoot, wearing plaid flannel pajamas, she left the room, almost colliding with Adrian in the hallway. “Go back to bed,” she told him.
His eyes were barely open, his hair sticking out in all directions.
“You were up late. I’ll take care of the girls.”
“Thanks.” He turned and shuffled back to the bedroom he shared with Mavis.
In the living room, the girls were still fighting.
“What’s going on in here?” Cleo demanded.
Macy jumped to her feet and immediately started pointing at three-year-old Carmen. Carmen was sitting on her hands-or rather, sitting on the remote control she held in those hands.
“Mommy and Daddy were up late last night. They need their sleep,” Cleo said. “Instead of watching TV, let’s go see what we can find for breakfast.”
No argument there. Carmen pulled out the remote control, turned off the TV, and ran for the kitchen. “Fruit Loops. I get Fruit Loops.”
Cleo had told Adrian he shouldn’t let his kids eat that sweet stuff. Without thinking, he’d replied, “Just wait till you have kids.” Realizing what he’d said, his face dropped. “Oh, hey. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay. And just because I can’t physically have children, that doesn’t mean I won’t have some of my own someday.” But being married, having children, a house, a home, a car, a dog, all of it seemed so unlikely. There were her nieces, though. She would watch them grow. And she would try to make it to some of their school programs. Maybe she would take them ice-skating, or to the zoo. Maybe they would visit her occasionally so Adrian and Mavis could have some time to themselves. But it wouldn’t be the same. Of course it wouldn’t be the same as having children of her own.
The kids dragged out boxes of cereal while Cleo got the milk and orange juice. In the two months that she’d been at her brother’s, she’d gained ten pounds. She could actually look at orange juice without gagging, but she didn’t think she’d ever be able to drink it.
“I’ll pour the juice,” Macy said, retrieving three glasses.
“Cleo wants milk,” Carmen said. “’Cause of her problem.”
“I know that.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Daddy said it’s a secret.”
“Come on, girls,” Cleo said, breaking in. “Don’t argue. If you’re quiet, I’ll take you to the park later.”
They began attending to business like a couple of miniature nuns. Bribery probably wasn’t the way to go, but Cleo had watched her brother and sister-in-law in action, and bribery seemed to be the child-rearing method of choice.
After they finished eating, they cleaned up after themselves, then watched cartoons for another hour. After that they changed clothes in preparation for the park, with Cleo helping Carmen with her little pink Polartec hooded top and tiny hiking boots.
“Are you going to live with us forever?” Carmen asked solemnly, looking directly into Cleo’s eyes. “I want you to.”
“Ah, sweetie, I can’t. I’d like to, but I can’t.”
“Where are you going to go?” Macy asked.
“I’m not sure. Maybe to San Francisco. But I’ll come to visit. And you can visit me.”
Outside, footsteps sounded on the wooden porch. The mail slot opened, then clanged shut. The familiar sound galvanized the girls into action.
“Something for you, Aunt Cleo!” Macy flapped the envelope in the air then handed it to Cleo with a flourish.
There was her name, printed in strong, slanted handwriting. She checked the return address: D. Sinclair.
Daniel.
The dream still clung to the edges of her mind. Now, seeing Daniel’s name, seeing handwriting that must be his, brought the mood of the dream back to her. She knew what the envelope would hold. The ring. The ring she’d left in Daniel’s bedroom that night. The ring Jordan had given her.
She opened the envelope. Inside was a piece of notebook paper, the edges ragged. She unfolded it to find not only the ring, but a note.
Cleo,
I’m enclosing a check to cover the five thousand dollars I took from you. The money is yours, so please cash it. By the time you get this letter, Beau will no longer be single. He and Matilda, the manager of Tastee Delight, are getting married this afternoon. I will be best man, and Premonition is the ring bearer.
In two weeks, I leave for Scotland, and that’s what this letter is really about. I have a friend who bought a castle and is in the process of turning it into a museum. He’s had some break-ins, and asked for my help in securing the premises and retrieving a valuable painting that was stolen. Which leads me to the point of this letter. We are in need of a psychic. Would you be interested?
What followed was his flight schedule.