The dreams started even before he was fully asleep. Candlelight burst into flame. The blood of this morning’s birth swept into the blood of death. Helplessness and loss encircled him. And somewhere, perhaps close by, perhaps impossibly far away, Nana, draped in a purple-and-gold shawl, reached a weathered hand in his direction, calling him to join her.
He bolted upright, covered in sweat. How much time had passed? Not much, he suspected. Kelsey had turned onto her other side and was sleeping contentedly. Frankie lifted his head off the floor, eyeing Kurt cautiously. Mr. Longtail had obviously been disturbed the most. He’d rolled off the pillow onto the bed where Kurt had just been. With his ears back and low on his head, the cat began grooming himself as if making a statement that the movement had been intentional.
Knowing that getting back to sleep now would be an impossibility, Kurt got out of bed and nudged Frankie off his pants. After dressing, he told Frankie to stay and headed downstairs in the darkened house as quietly as possible, not wanting to rouse the other dogs.
Keeping the light off, he headed into the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and drank two full glasses of water without pausing. He stared out the window into the night. His mind was turning in rapid-spin circles, and his body craved being thrown into movement. Aside from driving, physical labor was the only thing he’d found that could slow the racing in his mind.
From his pants pocket, Kurt felt his phone buzz with a text message. Pulling it out, he looked at the screen. Sara.
Never mind. Good night. We can talk tomorrow.
It was hard to believe it was only ten fifteen. He and Kelsey had gone upstairs about eight, which put him falling asleep at around nine or nine thirty.
Sara had tried calling twice while he’d been asleep or otherwise engaged.
He pressed her number, returning the call as he strolled the length of the kitchen.
“You awake?” he asked when she answered on the second ring.
“Yes, but not for long.”
“Everything okay?”
“It’s fine. Kelsey told William how you brought a stillborn puppy back to life this morning. He told me about it, which means he was impressed. I thought you might want to know.”
“Thanks. The puppy is bigger than the others. A lot bigger. I wouldn’t be surprised if she turns out to be part Saint Bernard or Bernese mountain dog. How was your second date? I meant to call. It was a crazy day.”
“That’s okay. I don’t expect this checking-in-with-Mom thing to come as natural as breathing, but we’ll get there. And it was great. The art museum was wonderful, and afterward, we walked around Forest Park. It’s beautiful there.”
“Is there a date number three scheduled?”
“Yes, a dinner one. That’s taking a step toward the serious, isn’t it? And I didn’t sleep with him, if you’re wondering.”
“Trust me, I wasn’t.”
Kurt returned to the sink. A glass sphere the size of a softball resting on the windowsill caught his attention. It was cool and smooth against his hand. He’d never seen it before. Though he couldn’t imagine why, something about it struck a strong chord in his memory. The bottom had a small lip of extra glass. He flipped on the small light over the sink and blinked as his eyes adjusted. The ball was translucent green and imperfect, obviously handblown.
The hair on his neck and arms stood on end. Memory flooded in. He was a boy curled into bed, and Nana was sitting beside him in her pink nightgown and matching robe, running her fingers through wisps of his hair. There was a book on his lap about a boy and a beach and his grandmother. “Someday we’ll go. Just you and I. We’ll find a float of our own. And you’ll have it to remember your nana.”
“Mom,” he said louder than he intended. She was going on about something, and he’d not been paying attention. “What was Nana buried in?”
“Um, her good navy dress. The one she wore to weddings. Why?”
Because in my dreams she’s always in purple and gold. But he couldn’t say that. “Did she…did she used to wear a shawl when I was a kid?”
“Um, maybe. Probably. I remember I grew up embarrassed about how she was always in a dress like we were living in the fifties. I think she wore shawls to church instead of jackets when it was cool out. She stopped wearing them at some point or another. Her cousin brought her one from Mexico though. She loved it.”
“What…” He closed his thumb and forefinger over the bridge of his nose and swallowed. He knew the answer but still needed to ask. “Can you describe it?”
“It’s silk, I guess. Probably expensive. I have it, if you want to see it. It’s purple with little gold fleurs-de-lis.”
Kurt released a shaky breath. “Do you ever dream about her?”
“Sometimes. Not as much recently. At first, almost every night. You probably won’t believe me, but the reason I went to get a mammogram was because of a dream I had with her in it.”
He closed his eyes and tilted his head up to the ceiling. “You know, I do. I believe you.”
He stuck through another few minutes of conversation, then said goodbye, hung up, and headed back upstairs. Frankie was lying at the top of the steps, waiting for him. He clambered into a sleepy stance, then dipped into a stretch as Kurt rounded the top.
He followed Kurt into his room. Kurt slid the closet door open as quietly as possible and pulled out the box he’d tucked
