Chapter 9
“This is where I grew up,” Drake said, sucking in a breath.
I felt momentarily disoriented as I looked around.
We were in the middle of a very nice neighborhood.
The foliage around us was in burnt oranges, yellows, and maroons, clearly indicating it was fall.
Leaves skittered across the ground around our feet, and I shivered slightly as a cool breeze caressed my skin.
“What are we doing here?” I inquired, looking around for Alex or Harry.
The last time I ended up in a too-real dream, it wasn’t a dream at all. It was reality. Only this time, there was no sign of either one of my brothers. A knot of apprehension coiled low in my belly. The unknown was a bit daunting.
As I looked around, I realized I was only wearing a silk and lace lilac nightgown.
My feet were bare, and I could feel the cool concrete seeping into the soles.
Drake wore a pair of flannel pajama bottoms that hung low on his hip bones.
He seemed to notice our attire, or lack thereof, at roughly the same time, because he slung an arm around my shoulders, rubbed his palms briskly against my skin, and kissed the top of my head.
“I thought we had a team for Harry and his dreams tonight,” Drake said, mirroring my frown.
“We did,” I agreed.
I continued to look around, and from my observations, I realized it must be early morning.
It appeared we were in a neighborhood that was neither quite the city nor fully the suburbs.
We stood on a sidewalk close to several houses with less than ten feet separating them.
A bustling street divided another set of homes similar to the ones in front of us.
I could see parents ushering their children out of the houses in work clothes, while the little ones carried backpacks.
Some adults were loading children into the back seats of their vehicles.
Others seemed less rushed, starting their mornings in attire ranging from workout gear to three-piece suits.
No one seemed to notice us. At least five cars passed by, and there was no way we didn’t stick out like sore thumbs. Yet we didn’t get a second glance.
Drake’s voice broke through my musings. “I don’t think we’re in a dream. It feels more like a memory. I remember her.”
I looked in the direction of the woman power-walking toward us.
She wore a blush pink velour suit and carried the leash of a dog that was clearly a mutt.
It had the long, stout body of a dachshund, the face of a Pekinese, and the short, curly hair of a poodle.
The thing was so ugly it was cute. The closer it got, I realized it must be female because it wore a bedazzled pink collar and a bright pink sweater.
“Mrs. Townsend used to go to high school with my mom. Her son, Jeremy, was my age. Her daughter, Monet, was Jemmy’s age.
They used to hang out all the time until–” Drake’s voice trailed off as if he were trudging through a memory.
“A few weeks before Dad passed away, she stopped coming by. The last time I saw her, Jemmy and I were walking home from the bus when she stormed out of our house in tears. When we went inside, Tracey seemed furious and picked on Jem until Dad got home.”
“Mrs. Townsend never even came to Dad’s funeral, and we no longer had playdates with Jeremy and Monet.
Jeremy was my first best friend, and I remember him telling me we couldn’t hang out anymore but not being able to give me a reason why.
Monet and Jemmy always butted heads, but even she seemed upset by the absence of her friend. ”
I took his hand and leaned into him. I squeezed his finger and let him talk. I knew he was in a very vulnerable place. I also knew the best way to be there for him was to allow him to speak and just be there physically.
“I think Lulu sees us,” Drake suddenly stated, his voice now filled with wonder.
The dog stopped abruptly as it drew abreast of us.
It sat back on its haunches and let out a soft woof.
I squatted down and tentatively reached out to her.
She reached her little, wet, black nose toward me.
The moment I expected contact; her nose seemed to pass through my skin.
A shiver ran down my spine; this time it wasn’t attributed to the cold but to the odd sensation.
It was a feeling both strange and fascinating.
I could feel the contact, yet not. It was a sensation akin to feeling the cold coming off a blasting air-conditioning unit.
I could physically feel the cold, but grasping it was impossible.
Drake squatted beside me, and I felt the same shiver run through his body. “That was so unreal.”
He looked at me with a bemused smile, but it slowly faded. His eyes widened, and he swallowed hard. I turned to see what had caught his attention and grew even more confused. All I could see was a man exiting the house across the street, followed closely by a little boy.
The boy looked to be about eleven years old.
He carried a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles lunchbox in one hand and wore a backpack.
He paused, glanced around, and adjusted his glasses.
He looked like a miniature man, dressed in pressed khakis, a button-down shirt, and tiny loafers.
I couldn’t help but feel he looked familiar.
Moments later, a little girl ran out, dressed in bright rainbow leggings with a glittery tutu over them, a unicorn sweatshirt, and a jean jacket. She wore sparkly Converse, one shoe untied, and her pigtails were lopsided. A bright pink cast covered her left arm, scribbled with names and doodles.
A frown curved my lips as I felt that she, too, was vaguely recognizable. I wasn’t left long in my confusion before the frown disappeared as the boy knelt beside the girl. I realized her shoe was untied, and he was tying it for her. I grinned at the sweet moment.
The sounds around us seemed to mute, and I could hear the man’s voice carrying across to us. He praised the boy. His head turned, and I was stunned by his appearance. I glanced at Drake and then back at the man. The similarities between them were uncanny. Suddenly, understanding dawned.
“Dad,” Drake croaked, running forward.
I was stunned to realize that the scene we were witnessing was of Drake, Jemmy, and their dad.
My brain hadn’t caught up to the fact that Drake had left me behind.
He seemed to realize it at the same moment and turned back.
He grabbed my hand and pulled me forward, pausing as a car passed in front of us.
My gaze was locked on Drake’s dad. It was like looking at a future version of Drake.
His hair was a few shades darker than his son’s, and his eyes were a light brown, almost hazel, but his bone structure was all Drake.
His shoulders weren’t as broad, but his mannerisms were all his son’s.
The way he held himself, and the way he reached out fondly to grasp little Drake’s shoulders, was all Drake.
I allowed Drake to pull me forward as I continued to soak in the tableau before me. As we drew closer, I could see the man indulgently listening to young Jemmy. Drake seemed just as invested in the conversation as they both took their dad’s hand.
I cleared my throat. “Um, is this a memory?”
Drake had already admitted to recognizing the area and Mrs. Townsend. The way he was looking at the scene in front of us indicated he had already lived it. There was no other explanation for what we were witnessing. I just felt utter confusion over why and how we were here.
I could see Drake visibly swallow. “Yeah,” he said in a broken whisper.
I reached out and grasped his hand, and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear the wetness from his eyes. We were just a few feet from Drake’s dad, young Drake, and young Jemmy. Drake seemed to be soaking in the moment, as if committing it anew to his memory.
“Uh huh, Bratz,” Jemmy chirped happily. “With chocolate cake, chocolate frosting, and my name in pink.”
I didn’t need to use my gift to feel the bittersweet emotions pouring off Drake.
I had to swallow my own tears, realizing the cake she requested was the same one Drake had baked for me the first time he met me.
I didn’t know if he had perfected the recipe because of her or if it was purely coincidental.
“I think we can do that,” the man chuckled. “What do you think, Drake? Think we can throw Jem a great birthday party?”
“Yes,” young Drake beamed up at his father.
“I don’t remember Tracey ever planning any of our parties,” Drake said in a near monotone. “Dad was the only one to plan them and get everything ready. We were lucky if she even remembered our birthdays.”
I briefly wondered why he missed her so much if she had been such a bitch.
However, a small part of me understood that all of us have an intrinsic need to connect with the people who brought us into the world.
I knew a few people in my life who had always desired a link to their biological parents, even if those parents had abandoned them.
Just as I was about to express my sympathy, I realized he didn’t really need it. His comment was a way to express himself. He was showing me parts of himself I had never seen before or heard about.
“Really?” Jemmy bounced excitedly on her toes. “Can we get invitations so I can pass them out, but not to Ginny Harvey?” She screwed up her face. “She didn’t invite me to her sleepover. She says I’m still a baby, and babies weren’t allowed at her party because I still like to play with dolls.”
“She’s not wrong,” a snide female voice said.
I jumped. The whole time Drake, Drake’s dad, and Jemmy had been walking, we had walked beside them. I had been so immersed in their conversation that I hadn’t noticed the woman sneak up. Drake startled as well, which made me think he hadn’t noticed her coming either.