Page 2

LEXI

T he dream went like this:

I was about four years old and staring out from behind a chair curled up small ‘like a kitten’ like I had been told, but I was peeking out.

It was dark. The only light was from the fire in the hearth, but I could see a man, a man I knew, who cared for me, who I loved, and there was a whip slicing down through the air on his back.

He was groaning in pain, the woman beside him was also someone I knew, who cared for me, that I loved.

She had her hands clasped together, on her knees, crying and begging the man holding the whip to stop.

“Please sire, we daena ken what tae tell ye!”

The man yelled, “Tell me where—” The whip cracked through the air, aimed at the man’s back again and?—

Hands grasped around my waist. I was lifted, struggling, terrified, a hand clasped my mouth, gripping my face so I couldn’t scream. I tried to go limp so I wouldn’t get taken, I needed to help the man and woman, but I was a wee bairn. I couldn’t. I was only supposed to get small. Be quiet.

Don’t let anyone know I was here.

I was held clamped under a man’s arm, banging against his hip as he raced through the night. I squealed with pain and fear.

“Wheesht, lass!” He ran around a corner and then sped across a wide field.

His footsteps hitting the ground, thud, thud, thud. My head lolled. I was shaken and so afraid, then it grew even darker. He dropped me into what felt like a bush and crouched in front of me.

I made out his face briefly, but I didn’t recognize him. He had something I didn’t recognize in his hand — he shoved it against my chest, and placed my shaking hands on it. “Hold it!”

I burst into tears.

He scrambled away.

I said, “Where they go? Go back! Take me back!”

He said, “Och nae, lass, daena let go?—”

I drew in a big terrified breath and scrambled to sit up, grabbing my chest.

Cooper had his hand on my back. “You alright, Lexi?”

I tried to catch my breath, but it staggered and I felt like I was suffocating. I had my arms around my knees, trying to breathe.

He sat up and shook me. “You okay?”

Then, “Lexi?”

He flung the covers off and crawled so he was in front of me. He held both of my hands and put his cheek on the back of my head. He said, “Shhhhhhh.”

I nodded.

“Shhhhhhh, now whistle, babe.”

I pursed my lips and blew. A weak sound came out.

He said, “Do it again.”

I nodded, pursed my lips and blew again.

“There ya go, that was stronger, do it again.”

I blew once more. That one was strong. He asked, “Can you breathe?”

“Yes.”

He collapsed beside me. “Holy shit, Lexi, that was scary, I was in a deep sleep.”

“It was the nightmare again.”

He rolled toward me and took my hand. “I know, babe.”

“…I just don’t get why it’s so real, like, it doesn’t feel like a dream, it feels like I’m there in the room.”

His voice, with his southern drawl was comforting in the darkness, “But you aren’t, you’re right here, in the bedroom, in Laurel Ridge, the house your great-great-grandfather built.”

“Yeah, I’m at home, you’re right.” I sat quietly thinking. “It’s almost more like a memory, but weird because I don’t remember it happening, but then again, I’m really little… ‘wee bairn’. Have you heard the term ‘wee bairn’?”

“Nah, you’ve asked me that before.”

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a memory. Ask your uncle, he’ll tell you it never happened!”

I had my cheek on my knees, facing him. “Yeah. I just… I was young, right? Three or four, do you remember things when you were four?”

“I think you would remember something like that, and again, Lexi, your family …”

I nodded and lay back down in bed. “Yeah, you’re right, it just always haunts me for a bit after, I have to think it through.” I pulled up the edge of my grandmother’s quilt to my chin. “It feels like a memory, but it’s not, it’s a dream, got it.”

I looked over at him in the darkness, I could make out his features, handsome and familiar. “I’m sorry I woke you up. You have a flight to catch, when do you have to leave?”

He looked over at the alarm clock with a groan. “Two hours.”

“Damn, I’m sorry and I love you, go back to sleep. I’m fine.”

He kissed my hand. Then kissed my forehead. “Good night, Lexi, love you.”

“Love you too.”

Over his shoulder I could see out the bedroom window and the woods beyond the lawn. A comforting view. I could close the curtains at night, but I liked to see what was out there, and I loved getting up with the morning light.

The tall pine trees rustled in the wind, black against the moon-glow of the night sky, but then I realized the uppermost boughs were beginning to whip, pummeled by strong gusts of wind.

A storm.

From out of nowhere there was a storm right on top of us. Jagged fingers of lightning shot across the sky and lit the room as bright as day. The thunder came right on top of it, crashing so hard, so loud, I felt the bed vibrate.

Cooper raised his head. “Oh shit! What was that?” He looked around half asleep. “Did you know we’re having a storm?”

“I didn’t hear it mentioned, this one is right on top of us.”

The screen on the door to the porch began swinging, banging against the old Victorian house — bang, bang, bang. I was used to this old house’s squeaks and creaks, but those loud bangs were going to keep us both up.

I climbed out of bed as Cooper mumbled, “Don’t go out in it.”

“I’m not crazy.” Wearing a tank top, pajama pants, and thick socks, I padded from my bedroom down the wooden stairs and the long hall toward the foyer.

Outside the wind howled and thunder clapped and lightning sparked. I opened the front door and a gust blew in. Brrrr. I stepped out on the porch, grasped the screen door, and yanked it closed. I secured it by putting the hook in the eye.

But then my eyes caught sight of something, down by the tree line. Another flash of lightning — it looked like something, or someone lying on the ground.

Three seconds later and there was another clap of thunder. The wind seemed to slow.

“Weird storm,” I said to myself, peering out into the night.

Was someone out there?

I kept watching. The wind died, there was no more lightning. The air smelled of ozone and wet earth.

Whatever it was, it was not moving. I watched for a bit longer, and then, contrary to my assertion to Cooper moments before, I shoved my feet into a pair of rainboots, opened the screen door, and went ‘out in it’ to see.