Reunion (4 page)

“What the hell is happening to me?”

All he could hear was his own heartbeat, hammering in his ears. He started toward the house, and as he did, images began to flash in his mind.

Images of a dark, ugly place and a black-haired woman lying on a dust-covered floor. Breath caught at the back of his throat as something rattled in the bushes beside him. By the time he passed through the patio doors, he was running. Only after he was safely inside did he stop to wonder why the security alarm hadn’t gone off. It did nothing for his peace of mind to find out that he must have turned it off before going outside. It bothered him even more that he didn’t remember anything about what he’d been doing. With a weary shake of his head, he reset the alarm and crawled back to bed.

The bathroom mirror was fogged with steam as Gabriel stepped out of the shower. His thoughts were locked into the business of the day when he saw movement from the corner of his eye. His heart skipped a beat as he spun toward the motion, and then he froze, mesmerized by what he saw. It was his own reflection, partially hidden behind the curtain of mist. The shape of his face was vague, the dark contour of his hair little more than a shadow, but there was a clear streak in the middle of the glass, as if someone had swiped across it with the palm of their hand. Eyes, dark and secretive, stared back at him, and just for a moment Gabriel felt as if he were staring at the face of a stranger.

Help. Help.

His nostrils flared, and he leaned forward in anger. “Help your damned self,” he muttered, turned his back on the mirror and began to dry off.

It frustrated him no end that his mind had weakened to this state. He was a grown man. Yes, he had suffered a terrible loss in the deaths of his parents, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t go on with his life. He knew his parents would have wanted it and would be appalled to know what he was putting himself through. He picked up a comb just as Matty called out to him.

“Gabriel, your breakfast is ready.”

He wrapped a large bath towel around his waist and stepped out of the bathroom as she looked in his doorway.

“Did you hear me? I said your—”

He nodded. “I’ll be right there. Just give me a couple of minutes to dress.”

At the sight of his near-nude body, the little woman threw up her hands and began to mutter. Gabriel grinned. It wasn’t as if she’d never seen him butt-naked. She had been with his family since the day he’d been born and had reminded him on more than one occasion of the fact that she’d changed his diapers.

Matty glared at him and then began puttering around his room, picking up the clothes that he’d left on the floor.

“
Madre de Dios!
What have you done to your jeans?” Her glare changed to worry as she inspected the pants further. “There is blood on them! Are you hurt? Have you hurt yourself?”

He frowned, only then remembering the wet, sticky something he’d felt on the pants last night. He shook his head.

“No, I’m not hurt. But I was in the rose garden last night. It’s nothing.”

She crossed herself and then left the room, muttering beneath her breath.

Refusing to let himself worry, he tossed the towel on a nearby chair and headed for the closet. A few minutes later he entered the kitchen, relishing the warm, homey smell of fresh-baked bread and hot coffee. Just for a while he would pretend that everything was normal in his world. He leaned down and kissed the side of her cheek.

“Something smells good.”

Matty flushed, pleasure obvious on her little round face. “Hot blueberry muffins, just like you like them. Would you like some eggs to go with them?”

Food wasn’t high on his list of priorities, but he knew that the sooner he slid into his normal routine, the better off he would be.

“Sure, eggs would be fine,” he said. “How about scrambled, and don’t forget to put jalapeños in them, okay?”

Matty nodded. “The morning paper is on the sideboard with the coffee. Sit! I’ll bring in your food shortly.”

Gabriel thought of sitting in that long, formal dining room alone and frowned. “I’d rather eat in here with you,” he said. “There’s no need carrying everything in for just—”

Matty took him by the shoulders and pushed him out of the kitchen.

“I’m too old to change my routine now,” she insisted. “Go! Drink my good coffee. Read the paper. Plan your day.”

He knew better than to argue.

By the time he got to the dining room, his stomach was in a knot. But after a couple of sips of Matty’s coffee, the knot began to unwind. He picked up the paper and headed for the table, automatically choosing the chair he’d always used. Then he looked at the chair at the head of the table—the chair his father had claimed—and after a small hesitation, sat down in it instead, telling himself it was because the light coming in from the windows behind it would make reading the paper that much easier.

He could see his own reflection on the surface of the highly polished wood. In a dark and muted sort of way, he looked like his dad, and somehow the thought made it easier to take, as if he were doing nothing more than bringing what was left of the Connor family full circle. An emptiness dug deep in the pit of his belly. Family. That was a joke. He was it. And if he didn’t snap out of this mess he was in, the family would end with him. No woman would want a man who had conversations with himself. Then he stifled the thought. Women should be the least of his worries.

He took another sip of his coffee and then leaned back in the chair, making himself relax, letting go of the guilt and accepting the responsibilities that came with being left behind.

For a while he read without comprehending, scanning the surface of the stories without actually reading their content. He turned the first page, then the second, and somewhere between page three and four of the first section, he realized that the story he was reading was one he’d already read. He knew the facts, the location, even the supposed age of the dead woman they’d found. Curious, he glanced back at page one, looking at both the day as well as the date and thinking that Matty must have accidentally laid out yesterday’s paper by mistake. But when he saw today’s date, his frown deepened. This made no sense. It was today’s paper, but then how would he have known about—

Truth hit him with the full force of a fist to the gut. Blood drained from his face as he turned back to the story and began rereading it, as if for the first time. Halfway through, he began to shake. It wasn’t that he’d read about this before. Hellfire! This was his dream!

The paper fell from his hands and onto the floor as he bolted out of the chair. For several seconds he stood without moving, staring down at the newsprint as if it had burst into flames. A thin film of sweat broke out on his body as he closed his eyes, remembering in vivid and lurid detail the horror of what he’d been dreaming when he’d awakened to find himself in the rose garden.

“Oh, God.” He wiped a shaky hand across his face.

But the paper didn’t disappear, and deceiving himself wouldn’t change the facts. Somehow he’d seen this woman die before it had appeared in this paper. And then he thought. Had he actually
watched
it happen, or had he dreamed about it after the fact? He thought of the blood on his jeans and groaned. What the hell difference did it make? Either way, he knew too much about a woman’s death.

“Here are your eggs, just the way you like them,” Matty announced and set the food at his place.

When Gabriel turned, he felt as if he was moving in slow motion while the rest of the world whirled past him at breakneck speed.

Hungry. So hungry.

The intrusion of the voice at this moment was the last straw. Gabriel reacted in rage.

“Shut up, damn you, shut up. Why can’t you leave me the hell alone?”

Matty froze and then pulled back in disbelief. Her face crumpled as she reached for the plate to take it back to the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “Maybe you’ll feel better—”

Gabriel groaned and reached for her, taking the plate out of her hand and setting it aside before pulling her into his arms.

“Not you, darling, not you,” he moaned. “I’m sorry I yelled. I wasn’t talking to you.”

Suddenly afraid, Matty clung to him. This was a side of Gabriel she’d never seen. The confusion he seemed to be suffering frightened her terribly.

“It’s all right,” she said gently, hugging him back. “You’ll be better soon.”

He buried his face against the thick graying bun of her hair.

“Ah, God, Matty. It’s not all right. In fact, you have no idea how wrong everything is.”

With that, he let her go and walked away without looking back, leaving her to deal with the uneaten meal and the shattered peace.

He made it to the library without coming undone, but the moment he gained access to the room, he shut himself in. He needed to be alone. He needed to think. Somewhere within this monstrous mess, there had to be an answer. But the longer he sat, the more confused he became.

A couple of hours passed, maybe more. He’d lost track of everything, including reality, rousing only after he heard footsteps coming down the hall. When he recognized the familiar shuffle of Mike Travers’ footsteps, anger surfaced. Matty must have called him. Uncle Mike would want to know what was wrong. Gabriel snorted beneath his breath.

“I’d like to know what the hell’s wrong, too,” he muttered, then strode to the windows overlooking the back of the estate.

And that was the way Mike Travers found him, standing with his back to the doors and staring out into the sunlight. His shoulders were tight and bunched, his legs taut and straight, as if braced to withstand a harsh blow.

“Gabriel?”

He hesitated momentarily. When he turned, his face was expressionless. “Uncle Mike.”

This wasn’t what Mike had expected. Caught off guard by Gabriel’s lack of emotion, he was at a sudden loss for words. “I…uh, I mean, Matty thought that—”

“What? That I’m crazy?”

“Now, Gabriel, that isn’t fair. I’m sure she—”

A bitter grin tilted the corner of Gabriel’s mouth. “Fair? Who said anything about being fair? Life isn’t fair. If it was, that damned drunk that hit Mom and Dad would be dead and buried, not them. And as for being crazy, it’s probably closer to the truth than I’m willing to accept.”

Gabriel stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks and then turned back to window gazing. Mike stood silently, debating with himself as to what he should say next, when Gabriel took the decision out of his hands.

“Do you believe in visions?”

The question took Mike aback.

“I don’t know. What kind of visions?”

Gabriel continued to stare at the scene before him. Finally he shrugged. “Is there more than one kind?”

A question. Gabriel had asked a question, which meant he wanted an answer. Mike relaxed. He was familiar with communication. It was what he did best.

“Talk to me, Gabriel.”

Gabriel turned, and in the moments before he spoke, Mike was startled by the expression on his face. It was like looking at a completely different man. He didn’t know this Gabriel. He didn’t know him at all. And then Gabriel spoke, and the thought was gone.

“Talk to you, Uncle Mike? I don’t know where to start.”

Mike sat down on a nearby sofa and then patted the cushion on the seat beside him.

“Start at the beginning, son. Just start at the beginning.”

But Gabriel didn’t move. He needed to be standing when he said this out loud.

“Ever since the accident, I’ve been hearing voices…seeing visions. Last night I sleepwalked during a dream. I woke up outside in Mom’s rose garden. I had dressed and turned off the security alarm, and I don’t remember doing either.”

Mike listened without commenting, but he was worried. These were symptoms of deeper emotional problems. He’d known that losing Brent and Angela had been hard on Gabriel, but not to this extent.

“Look, son, in times of great stress, the mind can play tricks on us. It’s not uncommon. I just wish you’d said something to me about this sooner. I hate to think of you suffering through this alone.”

But Gabriel wouldn’t budge. “How about the visions? Are they stress-related, too?”

“It isn’t unusual to suffer hallucinations. Most often they are nothing more than old memories that our subconscious resurrects in an effort to recall happier times.”

Gabriel frowned, then picked up a nearby phone and pressed a button.

“Matty, would you bring today’s paper to the library?”

Moments later, she bustled in with the paper he had discarded, took one look at Mike, then bustled out again.

Gabriel tossed the paper into Mike’s lap.

“Tell me this. How many times do your patients’ hallucinations make the news?”

Mike frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Gabriel leaned forward, placing a hand on either side of the older man’s shoulders and pinning him in place.

“I don’t know what I mean, either, Uncle Mike. But before you give me any more sage advice, there’s something you should probably know. Remember what I said about dreaming last night and waking up in Mom’s garden?”