Dream Shadows by Ingrid Weaver

Author:Ingrid Weaver [Weaver, Ingrid]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781101559994
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2012-02-07T00:00:00+00:00

ELIZABETH DREAMED THAT RICK WAS SINGING TO HER. IT was one of his songs about lost love that she’d heard before, yet she detected more than sadness in his voice. This time, she heard the strength that got him through the pain and kept him going. She smiled.

“She must know I’m here.” Rick’s music ended suddenly, as if someone had switched off a radio. “There, that’s better. Hello, Elizabeth.”

Her smile faded as she surfaced to wakefulness. The familiar smells and textures of the hospital room surrounded her. The man who had spoken to her wasn’t Rick. Of course, he wasn’t Rick. Rick was make-believe. This was reality.

“How are you today?” the man continued. He picked up her hand. “You’re looking as lovely as always.”

Elizabeth opened her eyes to the ever-present nothingness.

“Can you smile for me again, Elizabeth?”

She glanced at her hand. She couldn’t see anyone touching her, but she felt it. The man’s skin was damp. His grasp wasn’t clinical like a doctor’s, it was cloying. She tried to tug her hand free. She failed.

“Come on, darling. I’m sure you can if you put your mind to it.”

“I’m not certain the smile was voluntary, Mr. Rashotte.”

“Of course, it was, Beryl. She recognizes her fiancé.”

Alan! He was here. She hadn’t placed the voice, but she should have. It was the same smooth, precise tone she remembered. It was little wonder she hadn’t recognized his touch, because she’d felt it so seldom, aside from during their brief romance a few years ago. And aside from that interlude on her desk last June. She cringed at the memory. How could she have gained any physical satisfaction from him? She must have been deluding herself. The thought of his skin against hers made her flesh crawl. Now that she’d experienced what true pleasure could be like…

But she hadn’t, had she? There had been nothing true about that fantasy with Rick. It had been as much a fairy tale as the romance novel that had inspired the dream. In real life, she never would have dropped her inhibitions and opened her heart. She wouldn’t have dared. The only reason she’d been so free to indulge herself with her make-believe man was because he was make-believe.

Tears heated her eyes but she would not cry. No indeed, she was beyond that. No more feeling sorry for herself. She was alive. As imperfect as the real world was, and as unpleasant as her life had been, she did want to keep living. Rick’s story had helped put her own problems in perspective. That must have been why her subconscious had come up with it.

Alan squeezed her fingers. His fingertips were smooth—he wouldn’t tolerate any activity that would cause calluses. Manicures had been a regular part of his grooming regimen. He cultivated his appearance as assiduously as he cultivated his charm.

“I was sorry to hear Dr. Shouldice already left for the day,” Alan said. “I understand he has run more tests?”

“Yes, Miss Graye continues to make progress. Her brain activity has increased significantly since you were here last.

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