The Hour of Dreams

  The Hour of Dreams

  Published through Lands Atlantic Publishing

  www.landsatlantic.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.

  All Rights Reserved

  Copyright 2012 by Shelena Shorts

  ISBN: 978-0985725044

  No part of this publication may be produced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the author or publisher.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1 - SECRETS

  Chapter 2 - LIFE

  Chapter 3 - WORRIES

  Chapter 4 - SACRIFICES

  Chapter 5 - THE FIRST DREAM

  Chapter 6 - 1776

  Chapter 7 - THE ENCOUNTERS

  Chapter 8 - LOSS OF INNOCENCE

  Chapter 9 - THE AGREEMENT

  Chapter 10 - KNOWING

  Chapter 11 - BONDED

  Chapter 12 - BLIND FAITH

  Chapter 13 - FIGHTING FOR A LIFETIME

  Chapter 14 - THE NOW

  Chapter 15 - THE WAKE-UP

  Chapter 16 - THE RECOVERY

  Chapter 17 - COMING BACK

  Chapter 18 - PROGRESS

  Chapter 19 - THE TEST

  Chapter 20 - TRUE LIFE

  Chapter 20 - TRUE LIFE

  Chapter 1

  SECRETS

  “Everything is going to be all right.” That’s what Wes had assured me, sitting in our kitchen a few weeks ago. Wanting to believe him, I kept repeating it—even as I swam. For Wes, spending time in his indoor lap pool was both mentally and physically calming. I didn’t need the newlywed nesting experience to discover that.

  In hopes that it would have the same effect on me, it was a pastime I had come to try myself. Admittedly, the swimming did relax me. It felt good—peaceful, even. But in order to feel completely calm, I had to constantly repeat those words: “Everything is going to be all right.”

  Yeah, I know. What’s new, right? Well, every day of the week, for one thing. It was November, and I no longer had the safety net of not turning nineteen until next year. I was already nineteen.

  I’d dealt fate a low blow when I decided to get married on my nineteenth birthday. I figured I’d turn the dreaded day into something good. It worked for all of twenty-four hours.

  The day had been perfect and the night even better. The way he loved me took away all my worries and fears. Then the morning came and that was great too, until he told me he'd been having dreams. Dreams he thought were actual memories of us from before I was Amelia and even before he was Weston Wilson I.

  The dreams had given him a new focus, since he’d never considered that our souls had been together before his transformation. He’d assumed that the first time had been when Amelia saved his life that day in London 1915. Never the possibility of a before. Until now.

  That’s all it took—images of us, long ago, growing old together. Not of me dying at nineteen. Those images made Wes believe we were true soul mates, meant to live long, happy lives for all time. Yeah, it was cliché, but it didn’t stop him from theorizing that the only reason I kept dying was because he’d been transformed to live on, slowly. Aging so slowly that there was no way for us to have a normal life together.

  He believed he could set our lives back on track by reversing his transformation. So that’s why the worry began approximately one day after the best day of my life. Not necessarily because I might die while nineteen, like in my past two lives, but for the insane reason that Wes thought he could save me by killing himself.

  Not going to happen, which is why I had been a little less than honest with Wes. There was one other thing that happened the day after we married. That morning, my nose started to bleed. It was the first time since I was a child, so deep down I suspected it had something to do with my recent trial treatment for my virus. Dr. Carter had firmly instructed me to call him if anything out of the ordinary came up concerning my health, and that would’ve qualified. Yet, I initially refused to allow myself to accept the setback after such an amazing evening.

  Then, when Wes told me what he wanted to do to himself, I just couldn’t bring it up at all. Not while fearing it would send him straight to Dr. Carter to try and reverse his transformation. No, I had decided to do the one thing I begged Wes not to do anymore, and that was keep secrets. I say secrets because, in the last couple of months, I’ve had two more nosebleeds, and Wes knows about none of them.

  I decided to look at it from his perspective. If he knew, I’d spend most of my time back at the lab being pricked, and he’d foolishly volunteer to have his cold-blood replaced with some new, normal concoction, hoping fate’s short hand would leave me alone. I shuddered as I swam.

  “Hey you,” I heard, the words soft and inviting and yet still somehow startling. I shouldn’t have been thinking so negatively, but it was hard not to.

  “Hey,” I replied, slowing my breast stroke until I was treading water.

  “Can I come in?” he asked with a sly smile. He was shirtless and wearing his delicious trademark grin. Since when does he ask? Never. But looking at him, the reason became clear.

  He was either trying to seduce me or tease me. I managed a smile. “What are you doing?”

  He bent down. “I’m asking you if I can swim.”

  “I don’t know. Can you?” I shifted to a back float, exposing my baby-blue bikini.

  “Okay.” He stood. “This isn’t going where I’d hoped.”

  “And where was that?” I asked, weaving myself farther away from the edge.

  He shifted his weight and shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I'd come down here, flex a muscle or two, and then you'd beg me to come in and—”

  “Okay, I get it. Sounds nice, but I’m not interested.”

  He pressed his brows together, paused a moment, and then responded, “If you say so.”

  I held my smile until he turned his back, and it was the visual of those muscles shifting beneath his skin as he walked away that had me feeling like the water was a little too warm.

  “Okay, okay, you win,” I called.

  He stopped and turned around. “Win what?”

  “Me…duh.”

  “I already won you,” he said, crossing his arms.

  “Okay, fine. Will you please come in here and cool me off? Happy now?”

  “Of course. But all you had to do was say yes to my question in the first place.”

  I flipped over and started swimming. “You’re wasting time,” I said a few strokes later. When there was no response, I turned around to check on him, and he was gone. “What the…”

  Surfacing right in front of me, he grabbed my hips, causing me to shriek. “Oh my—”

  “Shh…” he said, putting his lips over mine.

  Once my heart settled down, my natural reaction was to wrap my arms and legs around him, prolonging the moment. My mind melted into oblivion whenever he kissed me.

  Which was why I’d rather die, and see him again in thirty years, than watch him kill himself and risk us never finding, or remembering, each other ever again.

  So that’s where things stood as we affectionately embraced each other. Us keeping deadly secrets, because I knew him well enough to know he was already working on something self-destructive behind my back. The only question now was which one of our sacrifices would occur first. His? Or mine?

  Chapter 2

  LIFE

  There’s no place like home. That’s one well-known saying I’d come to appreciate as Wes’ house became my refuge. All of the furniture I’d ordered had come in. His once cold-feeling great roo
m had turned into a warm and cozy place to curl up.

  The space was large enough to fit a huge ottoman and sectional that swallowed you whole if you plopped down hard enough. To top it off, I’d matched the coffee-colored sofa with a dozen pillows, alternating every earth tone you could imagine. I’d also filled the space with crimson-colored candles and didn’t hesitate to use them.

  On cozy nights, our favorite thing to do was watch TV or just sit there. The house, the space, the feel—it was everything I could’ve hoped for. It was what was happening outside of it that caused my nails to take a beating.

  The first time I’d gnawed on them was on my wedding day, because I’d been so nervous. After that, I just bit them because I was still nervous.

  Between the secrets and our continued security detail, I seriously expected the worst every time I left the house. Wes didn’t talk much about that kind of danger anymore, but the fact that he kept the Tahoes around told me we weren’t out of the woods.

  After Wes was rescued from that military-op group, his chief of staff at the California Blood Research Lab, Dr. Lyon, had made a deal with the government for our safety. As well as Dr. Carter's, because, when Wes was rescued, the operation had been so furious, they’d discharged Dr. Carter for his part in helping Wes escape. And then they attempted to kill him, but Dr. Lyon was able to seal a deal with them before any more harm was done.

  The agreement assured everyone’s safety, as long as the lab shared its research−which Wes didn’t have any intention of doing. But at least it bought us time. And of course, Wes’ secret was still intact, but we still remembered how dangerous those people could be and how quickly they could take one of us again.

  Just driving down the winding driveway, I'd scan the trees to make sure someone didn’t jump out of the bushes. At a stop light, I’d catch a glimpse of the Tahoe a few cars back and glance to my left and right to see whether anyone was watching me.

  Since I didn’t smoke or drink, and Wes wasn’t always around to help me keep things together, I took the nerves out on my nails. The only other calming moments were with my mom or friends at work. Mom and I kept our Thursday lunches at Berkeley, and Wes and I had dinner with her and Tom every Sunday. On every other day, I still worked at Healey’s. It wasn’t really work, in my mind. I enjoyed every minute, because it helped keep my mind off all that was scary. But on an early November day, even Healey’s took a new turn.

  Pulling in, I glanced back and saw the Tahoe take up the usual space directly across from the front door. I smiled to myself because, even though they were an intrusion on my freedom, they always reminded me that Wes was close even when he wasn’t. As I stepped out of the car, the second thing that caught my eye was a “now hiring” sign in Healey's front window. Immediately, it brought me back to the last time we needed a new employee: Ms. Mary’s murder last winter. I stole another comforting glance back at the Tahoe.

  Then I thought about how her replacement, Chase, had also died by the hands of the same murderer. I had volunteered to take on his hours afterward, so there hadn’t been a need to rehire. Last I checked, and hoped, nobody else had died. Wrapping my sweater around my cami, I took a deep breath and went inside.

  Mr. Healey was behind the front counter as usual.

  “Hi, Mr. Healey. What’s up?”

  “Nothing much, lady,” he answered, and gave me a brief welcoming smile before looking back down at his handheld pricing gun.

  Unable to wait to put my belongings in the back room before asking, I stopped at the counter. “What’s with the sign?”

  “Oh.” He glanced up only for a moment and shrugged. “I’m just looking for someone else to help cover some hours over the holidays.”

  He took a second glance up at me before putting his head back down. Something about the look in his eyes told me he was avoiding something, and his explanation didn’t make sense.

  “But no one buys used books over the holidays,” I replied.

  He looked up again and studied me for a moment. “Why don’t they?”

  “Because they’re used.”

  “Well I think people will start buying them, and even if they don’t, we’ll be busy with people bringing their old ones in.”

  That may have been true, but it wasn’t reason enough to hire a whole new person. Something was going on, but instead of pressing it, I tried to lighten the mood. “You’re not going to fire me, are you?”

  “Not at all. Dawn just mentioned you were starting school in January, and I should probably be proactive.”

  She what? Since when did Dawn concern herself with my hours?

  “You are going to school, aren’t you?”

  I blinked a few times and cleared my now dry throat. “Um. Yes, I think.”

  “You think?” he countered quickly, setting the pricing gun on the counter so he could cross his arms authoritatively. I felt the need to stand taller myself, a defense mechanism I’d learned from years of parental interrogation.

  “Yes, I think. But most likely will,” I added.

  He shifted his weight. “Good, because you need school. Let’s be real; who knows how long Healey’s will be here.” He looked around the store and sighed quietly. “With all this new technology, it’s just a matter of time before this kind of store is obsolete. My father passed this business down to me, but I’m not sure what will be left to pass on." With that statement, he turned his attention back to me. “So you kids need to get your education.” He nodded firmly and went back to his work.

  I stood for a moment, trying to process the unexpected personal lecture. He was either tired of me working there or was treating me like family. I liked the latter idea, but wasn’t sure how to respond, so I silently walked to the back room.

  I put my purse in my cubby and went back out, avoiding the front counter. Instead, I paced the aisles, straightening up books and picking up bits of trash. Mr. Healey’s words were in my head the whole time, and the more I thought about it, the more pressure I felt.

  My life was comfortable, or at least as comfortable as it was going to get. Why should I go out and start something else I’d just worry about finishing? And how dare Dawn take it upon herself to practically shove me out the door. I was pretty worked up by the time she arrived.

  She walked in and, as usual, headed straight to the back. I took the liberty of cutting her off halfway down the center aisle.

  “Hey,” I said nonchalantly as we nearly collided.

  “Hey,” she answered dryly, stepping around me so quickly that our shoulders bumped.

  Turning, I caught a glimpse of her shoving open the door to the back room.

  Okay. I thought I was the one who was supposed to be annoyed. Two options passed quickly through my mind: keep on working, or try to figure out what her problem was. Before I could decide, she walked back out and headed down another aisle.

  I slid over and cut her off again, this time shifting my feet in sync with hers until she knew she was cornered.

  “Having a bad day?” I asked.

  “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

  This was so unlike her, especially the way she was avoiding eye contact. She was known to be short and bossy with other people, but not with me.

  “Dawn, what’s going on? Since when do you avoid me? What did I do?”

  She finally looked at me. “Hmm…let’s see. How about just being perfect. Super freaking perfect.”

  “Say what?” Dawn had no idea about my tragic past or my uncertain future, but she had never hinted at feeling this way.

  “Perfect Sophie. That’s what I said.” Now she was directing her negative attitude straight at me.

  “Well,” I said, taking a small step backward. “You’re wrong. You have no idea.”

  “Oh, what, Sophie? Let me guess, you can’t decide which semester to start school. Hmm, spring or summer or maybe never? It doesn’t matter, because you can just have Wes take care of you.”

  Wow. I sucked in a deep breath at
the low blow. I was not a confrontational person, but I was not one to back down either. Three lives’ worth of turmoil almost popped out right there in that aisle, but I let out a deep breath instead. She was my friend, and something was off.

  “Dawn, you forget I know you. Your little alter-ego is not going to get to me, so you might as well tell me what your problem is. Or I’m going to—”

  “You’re going to what? Read a book? Make dinner? Go on a vacation? What exactly is it that you have to deal with? Huh?” My mouth fell open, and she threw her hands up. “You know what? Forget it. I’m out of here.”

  She went to the back and grabbed her things and made a beeline for the front door. Mr. Healey called after her, but she ignored him as she bolted. What the heck? Without thinking, I ran after her.

  “I’ll be right back, Mr. Healey.”

  I saw her getting into her car and went over to her. “Dawn. Stop. What in the world is going on?”

  “Sophie, just leave me alone. You’re not helping.”

  “Dawn. Please. What is it? Did you and Jackson have a fight?”

  “Yes! Okay. Are you happy now?” She started the car and tried to close the door, but I was blocking it.

  “No, I’m not happy,” I said, standing firm.

  She and Jackson had been dating for about a year now, and they had their moments, but she hadn’t ever reacted this badly before.

  “What happened?”

  “I want to leave, please,” she said, looking at me. Fire still burned in her cheeks, but her eyes were glassing over now. She was clearly hurting and I didn’t want her to go.

  “Can you just tell me what happened?”

  She gave me one more glare and then slammed the back of her head into the headrest. With her eyes closed, she sat there for what seemed like minutes before speaking.

  “Fine. I broke up with him. He’s the biggest ass on the planet, and I cannot stand him right now. I really don’t want to have this conversation with you.”

  “Why? I’m your friend,” I said, bending down. “You can talk to me about anything. I can help you. What happened? Did he do something? Say something? What?” With her eyes still closed, Dawn's cheek muscles started to twitch. “You can tell me,” I whispered.