If Only in My Dreams (40 page)

Perhaps she’ll never know.

What she does know is that she can’t bear to continue her role as the love of his life. Not even with a fake Jed Landry on a fake vintage set.

“You’ll have to recast the role,” she tells Denton firmly, her mind made up.

“This isn’t the way I would have chosen to resolve this, Clara. You were a perfect Violet.”

“Thank you. And I’m sorry I didn’t figure this out sooner, before I put everyone through all those days of chaos.”

Denton shrugs. “Sometimes the longest way round is the nearest way home.”

Clara’s heart skips a beat. “What… what did you say?”

“Didn’t you ever hear that expression?”

Yes, more recently
—
and longer ago
—
than you can ever imagine
.

“It was a favorite saying of my father’s,” Denton informs her. “He had a lot of them, but that was his favorite. In fact, my mother had it etched on his gravestone when he passed away a few years ago.”

Overwhelmed by the sudden connection, once again, to the past and Jed, Clara can only offer a tremulous smile.

“Welcome back,” Karen Vinton greets Clara at her office on Saturday morning. She clasps one of Clara’s cold hands in both her warm ones. “I’ve been really concerned about you.”

“I—thank you. I’m, um, sorry I blew off my Monday appointment, and I’ll absolutely pay for your wasted time, and—”

“No need to do that. I just sat here knitting and hoping you were going to show. When you didn’t, I assumed you got hung up at work.”

Clara just nods, unwilling to dispute that… just yet, anyway.

“So it was no big deal and, thanks to you, I almost finished the scarf I’m knitting my girlfriend for Christmas.”

“I’m… glad.”

“And I’m glad you made this appointment,” Karen goes on, gesturing at a chair, as she closes the office door behind Clara.

I’m trapped
, she thinks irrationally… as if she truly had any intention of fleeing.

All right… the notion
did
occur to her.

But she won’t do that.

You really can’t
, she reminds herself, still standing, looking again at the closed door.

Karen follows her gaze. “A little nervous about being here today, huh?”

“Maybe just a little.”

“That’s all right. Have a seat. We’ll go slowly. You take the lead, okay?”

“Okay.”

Clara reluctantly sits. And waits.

“Why don’t you fill me in,” Karen suggests after a moment of silence.

“Fill you in on…?”

Karen shrugs, sitting across from her. “Whatever it is that you need to talk about.”

Clara still can’t seem to say anything.

“You made the appointment,” the therapist reminds her gently. “You must need to talk.”

“I just… I don’t even know where to start.”

“Well, what’s been going on since we last saw each other? It’s been over a week.”

Clara shrugs.

“Something must have happened, Clara.”

“A lot of things happened,” she agrees.

“Like…?”

Let’s see… I traveled back in time again, fell madly in love, relived Pearl Harbor Day, realized I couldn’t save Jed’s life after
all, told him good-bye forever, traveled back to the present, reached out to my mother, told her I have cancer, quit my job
…

And here I am
.

“You know, I probably shouldn’t even be here,” she tells Karen, shifting her weight self-consciously.

“You thought you should when you made the appointment. What’s on your mind?”

“Right this second?”

“Right this second.”

“Well… my surgery, for one thing… it’s next week.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“Afraid. Whenever I think about it I wish I could just run away again.”

“Again?”

Clara hedges. “I sort of… did. Already. Last weekend.”

“Was it like before?” Karen flips through her notes. “You’d had an episode.…”

“No, it wasn’t like that.”
Because this time I knew it wasn’t a dream or some kind of psychotic fantasy
.

“How was it, then?”

“I just took a few days to… you know. Sort of… hide.”

“From anyone in particular?”

“From the world, pretty much. I just know that I didn’t want to deal with anything here.”

“Here? You mean New York?”

Clara hesitates.

No. You can’t tell her. She’ll never believe you, or she’ll think it was some kind of fugue, or fantasy
—

And it wasn’t.

It was real.

Jed was real.

At least she has that; she’ll always have it, in her memory and in her heart, where it counts.

“Yes,” she tells Karen, still waiting patiently, as always. “I mean New York.”

“And where did you go?”

“Just upstate.”
Just
.

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“What did you do there?”

“Just… not much. You know. Thought about things.”

“About your illness?”

Clara nods.

“And did it help?”

“I don’t know. I guess.”

All these questions are starting to rankle. But she supposes that’s the whole point… for Karen to get her to examine her feelings.

And when she does…

“I’m definitely going to beat this,” she finds herself blurting. “I’m not going to just give in and… die.”

“Of course you aren’t. Was there really ever any doubt in your mind?”

She shrugs. “My grandmother died of breast cancer. It happens. But it isn’t going to happen to me. I want to have a life.”

Even without Jed. That’s why I’m back here. I have to go on; I have to survive. It’s what he would want. I know it is
.

It isn’t until Karen hands her a box of tissues that Clara realizes tears are streaming down her cheeks.

“Do you think,” she asks, and pauses to blow her nose and wipe her eyes, “that everything happens for a reason?”

“Is that what
you
believe?”

“I want to, but…”

But why did I fall in love with Jed if I was only meant to lose him?

The troubling thought refuses to fade.

“Sometimes,” Karen tells her, giving her a tight, welcome hug, “we can’t see things clearly as they’re unfolding. We’re too caught up in the emotion.”

“But hindsight is twenty-twenty?”

The therapist smiles. “Something like that.”

Maybe, then, in time it will make sense.…

Or Jed will somehow find me again, like he promised
.

After all, nothing is impossible… right?

Again, she thinks of her secret Santa, and that single ticket to
The Nutcracker
on Christmas Eve.

What if…?

No, Clara. Don’t get your hopes up
.

Some things really are impossible
.

CHAPTER 19

H
ow are you feeling today, Clara?” asks Dr. Bronstein, the surgeon, as he walks briskly into her hospital room carrying a folder and a clipboard. Clara likes him; he’s down-to-earth. He communicates with her on a human level rather than on a more formal doctor-patient one, as the oncologist does.

“I feel great today,” she tells him—almost wholeheartedly.

Yes, the surgical site is sore despite the pain medication, and she’s still feeling the aftereffects of the anesthesia.

And yes, she’s frightened of what he’s going to say now about what he found when he went in during the operation.

But at least that part is behind her.

“Do you think you can prescribe something stronger for her pain, Dr. Bronstein?” Clara’s mother asks, seated in the bedside chair where she set up camp almost two full days ago.

“Are you in a lot of discomfort, Clara?”

“She is,” Jeanette answers for Clara, who shoots her a look. Jeanette responds with a shrug, saying simply, “You can’t fool me. A mother can tell when her child is hurting.”

Dr. Bronstein scribbles something. “I’ll take care of that.”

Then he looks up and, in his straightforward way, says, “Well, I’ve got some very good news for you, Clara.”

All the oxygen seems to gush out of her at those words, leaving her breathless, speechless.

“I can bore you with all kinds of medical terms and details, and trust me, I will at some point, but what I would really be saying is this: the margins are clear and the cancer hasn’t spread.”

At Clara’s side, Jeanette makes a choking, sobbing sound and presses her hand to her lips.

“You mean…” Clara breaks off, clears her throat, tries to digest the wonderful news. “I’m going to be all right? I’m not dying?”

Dr. Bronstein smiles. “You are absolutely not dying. Although if you eat the so-called minestrone soup they’re serving for lunch here today, you might feel like you are. I just tasted it and—” He makes a face and a thumbs-down sign at her.

Clara laughs out loud. “I’ll pass on that. When can I go home?”

“Tomorrow, I think, if you feel up to it. Just rest now, and let the nurses—and your mom, of course—take care of you. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” Clara says sincerely, leaning her head back against the pillow in sheer relief.

Dr. Bronstein makes more notes. “Dr. Hunter will meet with you later to discuss his recommendations for further treatment, and I’ll check in on you again in the morning.”

“Thank you,” Clara murmurs, tilting her face toward the window beside the bed.

Outside, above the gray skyline, she can see a slice of clear blue December sky.

You’ll come back here to stay, as soon as you’re finished with your treatment
.

She shakes her head, pushing Jed’s words away.

Even if she did find her way back to him, he wouldn’t be there for long.

“All right, then, Clara, I’m going to leave you now. Congratulations.”

She turns back toward Dr. Bronstein and manages to smile. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You don’t have to. Those happy tears in your eyes speak volumes.”

She doesn’t have the heart to tell him that they aren’t happy tears at all.

Clara winces as she lifts her arm to pull the black velvet dress over her head.

It’s been a week now, but the site of her lumpectomy is still sore, and it’s likely to be for quite some time.

Every day, though, she feels a little less discomfort… and a little more optimism. All right—infinitely more optimism.

In part because Dr. Hunter, the oncologist, decided chemotherapy will be unnecessary. After a round of radiation
treatments, mostly as a safeguard, Clara should be able to put this whole experience behind her.…

Or so the medical team claims.

She can’t imagine ever feeling entirely safe in her own skin again, and she’ll be ultra-vigilant… as will her doctors.

But she isn’t going to die young of breast cancer, as her grandmother did. She’s going to have a life.

And for tonight—and tomorrow, especially—she’s going to forget about everything in it that’s the least bit disturbing—Jed Landry included.

If that’s even possible. Jed has been on her mind every moment of every day, haunting her dreams whenever she’s asleep.

But those are just dreams.

So very different from her actual time with Jed…

And that, she remains certain, wasn’t a dream.

She still hasn’t come any closer to understanding why it all happened. In fact, the more time that passes, the more perplexed she feels.

But you’re going to put that aside for now
.

This is Christmas Eve, and somebody is meeting her at
The Nutcracker
ballet.

Her heart races every time she wonders who it might be.

It isn’t going to be Jed
, she reminds herself sternly.
You do know that
…
don’t you?

Of course she does. She just needs a reality check every so often, that’s all.

She leans toward the mirror above her dresser, carefully clipping dangling diamond drops to her earlobes.

The earrings belonged to her grandmother Irene—a wedding day gift from her loving husband. Grandpa gave them to Clara one Christmas long ago.

You look so much like her, Clara-belle
, she hears him saying as she inspects her reflection.

Something flutters in the corner of her eye, and she turns her head quickly to catch it… but the spot is empty.

“Grandpa… is that you?” she asks, standing absolutely still, listening… for his voice?

All she can hear is a steady drip from the bathroom sink, and, beyond the window, traffic on the avenue, and a car alarm howling in the distance.

Her grandfather isn’t here. If he were, he’d let her know somehow.

No, but he and her grandmother might be out there somewhere, like she told Jason that time.

Maybe they were both reborn as babies right now, and they’re going to grow up and find each other and fall in love all over again
.

Comforted by the thought, Clara smiles. Of course, if they have found their way back to earth, Grandpa and Grandma would have no memory of their identities in their past lives.

The books she read made it pretty clear that without professional hypnotic past-life regression, most people have no idea that they are, indeed, reincarnated souls. But once in a while, a person can have a flash of inexplicable memory that might really be a glimpse into his or her own past… as somebody else. And some souls are irrevocably linked through the ages, destined to be reborn and find each other over and over again.…