The Drake House

Chapter 10

The night before her parents arrived was a restless one. Nancy had awakened her earlier, screaming her name and shaking her with tears in her eyes. A common fear between friends. The nightmares seemed to be getting worse and now they appeared more real. Not really nightmares anymore, but living, breathing extensions of her life. They were causing the night terrors and sleepwalking she'd had since childhood to increase.

Trisha didn't appreciate these dreams taking over her life, her emotions ruling over what her mind tried to wrap itself around. She craved logic and substance, something she could touch or see. Feelings and sentiments were a red herring, they weren't to be trusted.

In this last nightmare, she had been a child again. If she didn't know any better, she'd swore it was a memory. She'd been racing down that hidden path to the Drake house, panicked and pleading to escape. It was never ending, running and grasping for breath, clinging to the hope her parents were on the other side.

Stumbling, she had fallen, and pain shot through her leg. It burned where the upturned tree root cut her knee. She'd shrieked urgently for help, for someone to hear. It was so dark and so cold. Frightened, she stood and fell back down, sobs racking her small body. It was the most helpless, hopeless feeling Trisha could ever remember experiencing.

Eyes closed tight in the dream, she'd yelled out into the night, frantic and desperate. And then, someone was standing there. She couldn't see the face, but the hair was long and dark, hanging in stringy strands covering a woman's face. The dress she wore was long and black, her hands thin and bony. The woman reached out for her, in slow alarming movements

But then Nancy was there, tears welling in her eyes and blaring words to get Trisha to snap out of the dream. When Trisha had woke to that, she wasn't safely tucked in her bed. She was on the kitchen floor, covered in a sheen of sweat, and wondering how she'd gotten back home from the closed-off gravel path.

They'd moved to the kitchen table, sipping chamomile tea and not speaking of the incident. Her housekeeper's usual olive skin tone was still pale and Trisha couldn't help the guilt that clawed through her. Finally feeling warmth seep back into her bones, Trisha set down her cup and pushed up her sleeves.

"Oh, my God! Trisha. What is that?"

Nance grabbed her wrist and pulled her arm closer for a better look. Across her right forearm was a red handprint.

"Idon't know. Maybe you grabbed me too hard when you were trying to wake me?"

Except it looked like a sunburn. A sunburn in the shape of a hand. Nancy set her own hand over the mark, but the red print was larger than her size. She looked at Trisha with round, panicked eyes. Trisha set her left hand over the mark, but hers was too small to make the impression also. Instead of feeling heat, the mark feltcold.

A shudder tore through her.

Nancy made the sign of the cross while cold seeped back into Trisha's limbs. As she reached for her tea, the mark slowly dissolved until nothing remained but her usual skin tone. Nancy bolted from her chair, backing up and mumbling the Lord's Prayer.

Trisha swallowed. It was nothing, she rationalized. Nothing. Nancy just grabbed her too hard. Her hand slipped, leaving a larger impression. That had to be it. The alternative

The woman in her dream had reached out for her. Not just reached out, but reached for her right arm.

"Nancy, I'm okay. It's nothing," she said, trying to relay the calm she didn't feel.

This was crazy. Dreams don't physically touch a person. They don't leave handprints on someone's body.

Nancy didn't look any less ruffled and set down her cup. "I have to get up early and start getting ready for your parents. You're taking the day off tomorrow." Nancy put her hands up. "I mean it. The boys know how to finish pH testing and you weren't starting to fertilize until next week. You're taking the day off," she emphasized again. "I'm getting Brad over here to watch you tonight."

"I'm fine, Nancy. Really. I'm better now."

"You know this time of year is the worst for you, but I've never seen you this bad. I don't want you stumbling out and getting hurt."

Tears welled in Nancy's soft brown eyes again and Trisha reached for her ice-cold hands. "All right, go get Brad." She relented more to comfort Nancy than she actually thought she needed someone. But, if it would help her housekeeper sleep, then she would.

Moments later, they returned and, after rinsing out her cup, Nancy retreated upstairs. Brad pulled out a chair and sat next to Trisha, used to the routine by now. Nancy didn't call on him often, but she knew Nancy trusted Brad to stay with her, to not speak of the incidents later.

They'd gone to school together growing up. His parents were still friends with hers. Immediately out of high school, Brad had come to work at the orchard and had been here since. Trisha's sleep patterns were no secret to him, and no one questioned when Nancy came looking for him in the dead of night. No one asked when he'd be at the main house all night and, after no sleep, worked the trees.

After clearing his throat, he ordered, "Finish that tea and we'll go up."

"I'm done. The guest room is made up."

Rubbing his eyes, he mumbled, "I'll get the cot. Nancy said it was bad. I'm staying with you. Don't argue."

"I'm sorry."

For a slight instant, his eyes were angered by the comment, but he swiftly masked the heat and sighed. "You know better than that."

He climbed the stairs with her, closing Nancy and Eduardo's door inaudibly along the way. With his back to her, he shut the window in her room, drew the drapes, and unfolded the cot by the foot of her bed. He stood over her for only a moment, to ensure she was calm. Trisha must've shown the peace she wasn't feeling, because satisfied, he curled up and pretended to sleep for her sake, until he thought she'd drifted off.

He then sat up and eyed her closely until she did fall asleep and dawn broke.