She then typed in the word “author” next to his name. Again, a few names popped up on the screen, but not the name she was looking for. She paused, and took a sip of the smooth tasting black coffee and savored the rich taste on her tongue, as she contemplated her next search.
With a sigh, she typed in, “Reed Thayer, automobile accident, and Fallen Oak” with Sunday’s date, and hit go. Nothing. She pressed her lips together. Her assumption was correct. Reed Thayer didn’t exist before Sunday night. He existed at one time elsewhere, but not on this plane of existence, not in her dimension.
To realize you don’t exist was enough to make anyone lose their mind, she was sure of it. Just how was Reed going to react when he found out, and when was she going to tell him the truth?
***
Sara-Kate spent several hours pacing the confines of her home, trying to figure out her next move. She needed to get back to work. From this ordeal, she was now already woefully behind on fulfilling customer orders. Products needed to be produced and packaged.
Upstairs was Reed. The last time she checked on him was only an hour before, and he didn’t as much as stir when she touched his cheek.
What if he never woke up again? Instead, languishing hour after hour, day after day, lost in some never-ending dream?
Maybe, she considered, she should call the police and let them handle it. Of course there would be a lot of questions, and not a lot of answers on her part. They would look at his identification in his wallet. When none of it was verifiable, they would label him a fraud.
Perhaps Reed would tell them what he told her. He was a successful author who was on his way to a sort of sabbatical. The police would find no such reservation, no car, and most importantly, no one named Reed Thayer who fit his description.
Sara-Kate stopped her incessant pacing, and shook her head. After the police, the next step was the mental health facility. When she was alive, they only whispered about the sort of person institutionalized in such a place. Back then, they called it the asylum, and when you went there, your life might as well be over. You may walk in on your own two feet, but you left in a wooden box.
No, she would not subject Reed to that kind of possibility. He trusted her, and she would never betray that trust.
Reed still had a chance, if she could figure out how to save him.
Again, she thought of how cruel the Fates were, not only to Reed, but to her as well. She did nothing to deserve this predicament she now found herself. She kept to herself, she made trouble for no one. She baked cookies for the assisted living center every week, and bestowed her healing gift onto every cookie. She handcrafted healing infused candles, oils, soaps and lotions for her happy customers.
No, she did not deserve this.
The Fates.
In some audience they sat, invisible to her eyes, but watching her with amusement.
She closed her eyes, and rubbed her temples in small circles. It was then she needed to see Reed again—just to make sure he was okay.
She went to the kitchen and prepared a cup of peach scented tea, and added in an ice cube to quickly cool the liquid. Perhaps just the amazing smell of the tea would be enough to stir him from his sleep.
She hoped so. Yet a small voice in the back of her mind reminded her that as long as he stayed unconscious, she didn’t have to force him to face the truth. She quickly shook off the intrusive thought, lifted the tea cup, and made her way upstairs.
Reed was still asleep. Just the way he was when she last checked on him.
It had been two days. Why wasn’t he waking up?
She placed the tea on the bedside table, sat at the edge of the bed, and surveyed Reed’s features. His dark facial hair was now more full. Long lashes lay across pale skin. Beneath closed lids she knew his eyes were the color of espresso.
“Reed,” she called out as she stroked his cheek.
There wasn’t as much as a flinch.
“Come on, Reed,” she implored, this time more sharply. “It’s time to wake up now. You’ve been asleep for far too long.”
She was about to leave him in peace when his eyelids fluttered, and his fingers flexed.
“Reed, open your eyes.”
After a few moments, he blinked a few times, before his eyes locked on the ceiling. Finally, his eyes moved around the room, and settled on her face.
All she could wonder was what Reed must be thinking at that moment. To wake up after two days in a stranger’s bed, with a stranger looking at him. It had to be an unsettling feeling, to say the least.
“How are you doing, Reed?”
His lips twitched in response to her question, but not a sound passed his lips.
“Can you sit up a bit? I’ll help you.” She reached across the bed over him, and grabbed a fluffy pillow. “Just try to put your arms around me, and I’ll pull you up the best I can,” she instructed.
He lifted one hand from the top of the blanket before it flopped back down.
This was going to be a lot harder than she thought.
“Okay,” she spoke gently, and laid the pillow aside. She leaned over the top of him, her breasts pressed against his bare chest, and slid one arm under his, and the other around his shoulders. A warm scent rose from his skin, and caused her to pause momentarily and marvel at the uniqueness.
“Ready, Reed?” She couldn’t see his face from the acrobatic angle of her body. “On three, one...two...three!” She focused all her strength into her upper body, and pulled him toward her. When he was sufficiently high enough, she
