In My Dreams

“You can talk about any of that, you know. I’d be glad to listen. I know I wasn’t there, but I kind of understand war.”

“Thanks.” Jack knew cops saw ugly things all the time. But terrible memories of war entangled with ugly childhood memories made for an awful hybrid.

It would be hard to explain to Ben what was going on in his head. He and Ben had been friends as children, then brothers when the Department of Human Services had allowed Ben’s parents, Gary and Helen Palmer, to adopt Jack. At the same time, his younger half sisters had been sent to live with their respective fathers.

“I’m going to be fine,” Jack insisted. “I just have to get my head together.”

Ben looked him in the eye, clearly trying to read what Jack wasn’t saying. “You know it’s more than that. No one can survive such things without venting it to somebody.”

He’d been doing that to his shrink at the fort, and although being home again was gradually pulling him away from the past six years, the sharply revived memories of his childhood and the big-time return of his dreams were driving him toward the only solution he could think of to get his life on track again.

“Actually,” he said, “I have an idea about how to help myself.”

Ben put down his fork. “What’s that?”

Jack met his waiting gaze and said, as though it was going to be easy, “I’m going to find my sisters.”

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_37825b7d-ed38-5b6e-a1ae-71ec690f0c8d)

BEN SHOOK HIS head and stabbed his fork into a bite of sausage. “Jack, it’s been too long. You have no idea where they are, and they have different names.”

“Yeah. But technology puts the world at my fingertips. I’m going to find them.”

Sarah saw the zealous light in Jack’s eyes and the defining caution in Ben’s. They were two very different men with one very strong connection. They weren’t brothers by birth but by the courage that brought them together as boys and now defined them as men—the soldier and the cop.

“I hate to see you get hurt, Jack. And you’re kind of...vulnerable right now, don’t you think? You’ve had about all the pain you can deal with.”

Jack shrugged as though he had no control over his need to reconnect with his sisters. “I have to do this.”

“Why can’t it wait until you’re...adjusted?”

“Because ‘it’ has waited so long already. And this is as adjusted as I’m going to get until I find them. I promised our mother that I’d work on the carriage house out back. That’ll help me regain my carpentry skills, hopefully, so I can get Palmer Restorations going again, and in my spare time, I’m going to start looking for Corie. Or Cassie. Whoever I get a lead on first.”

Sarah knew that Helen Palmer had long dreamed of fixing up the old carriage house, now used as a storage shed, to rent it out to writers. For the past ten years Helen had been a freelance editor for a Portland publishing house. Over the years she’d hosted several writers in this home while they’d discussed revisions. She’d often talked about how good it would be for a writer to spend time in a comfortable spot in this country setting with more privacy than the guest bedroom could provide.

“What are you going to do with all the stuff in there now?” Ben asked.

“Rent a Dumpster, throw away the junk, save the good stuff and store it in your room.” Jack spoke with a straight face and spread jam on his toast while Ben looked heavenward.

Since Ben had moved back into his old room, he’d been less than tidy. It had become a family joke.

“I mean, really,” Jack went on with a grin at Sarah. “You could hide an elephant in there. You’ll barely notice lumber and storage boxes.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“I’ll clear a corner of the basement,” Jack said seriously. “You can look over the iffy stuff with me. We’ll save a pile for Mom to check out before I throw it away.”

“Yeah, well, much as I’d love to do that, I’ll be busy busting perps and saving lives. I’m afraid you’re on your own.”

“Does it really come to that in Beggar’s Bay? I mean, isn’t it more directing parking at the fairgrounds and taking runaway dogs to the animal shelter?”

“Just the other day,” Sarah said gravely, “Ben jumped into the bay to catch a drunk driver evading arrest, remember?”

Jack wrinkled his nose. “Hard to forget. He smelled like a salmon for two days.”

“But, still. Heroic.”

Ben made a sound of distress and turned to Sarah, pretending hurt feelings at her dubious defense. “Hey. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health, remember?”

“That’s for married people, Ben.” She gave him a wide-eyed look of innocence, phony but very sweet. It gave Jack a mild case of arrhythmia for a minute. “People just dating get to harass and annoy.”

Ben stopped her, laughing, and leaned toward her for a kiss. Jack had seen enough. As if his life, his recovery from the ugliness of war and his bizarre nightmares weren’t complicated enough already, he had to be attracted to Sarah Reed, his brother’s girlfriend.

He pushed away from the table. He could deal with it. Attraction, after all, was such a small thing as far as love was concerned, and attraction was all he was going to allow himself to feel. He hoped.

Fortunately, neither Sarah nor Ben had noticed.

The table was littered with empty plates. “All right,” Jack said, standing and pointing to Ben. “You go save lives.” He smiled at Sarah. “And you get to work before Vinny and your other clients expire without you. I’ll clean up.”

There was no false reluctance to leave him with the task. They were both gone in an instant. He cleared the table, loaded the dishwasher, then grabbed a jacket and went outside to check out the contents of the carriage house.

* * *

SARAH DROVE THROUGH the three-block commercial area. She passed the Episcopal Church and continued up the hill, past the nearly finished retirement village and the elementary school across the road, toward the over-55 development where Vinny lived.

As she drove, Sarah breathed as though she were in a Lamaze class. Since Jack had come home, she and Ben had talked a lot about family, but very little about children, except that he’d asked her once if she liked them. She’d said that she did, just hadn’t mentioned that she didn’t want any of her own. But now that she felt certain marriage was on his mind, she had to tell him that and explain why.

Her first job after acquiring her Bachelor of Science in Nursing had been as a pediatric nurse in Seattle. Her dream had been to go on to a Master of Science and work toward becoming a Pediatric Nurse Practitioner.

For several years she’d loved the work. Eventually, however, it became evident that while nothing could compete with the emotional highs of success in children’s care, nothing was as dark and ugly as failure.

At first she’d been philosophical about doing the most that could be done for sick children. Then a five-year-old patient, Jerica Warren, had been admitted with the flu. Despite an underlying asthma issue, she hadn’t been vaccinated against the flu because it was early in the season. Sarah had told Jerica’s worried parents how hard the doctors worked at Puget Sound Children’s Hospital. How they’d used every medical advancement known to man and saved nine out of ten children. “She has to live, Sarah,” Jerica’s father had said. “Because if she doesn’t, we won’t survive, either.”

Jerica had been brave and trusting, held Sarah’s hand while the doctor put a line into her small arm to fill her with antibiotics. But not only had she had Influenza B, but also MRSA, a superbug infection. Sarah had sat with the family as Jerica’s organs began to shut down. She remembered every moment of those awful days.

Jerica died on a sunny day in early October, and the look on her parents’ faces had been like eternal winter. That had been two years ago. Sarah had stayed on the job another month but had been unable to shake the sense of loss and a new lack of faith in a medical system that should be able to save all children. The good work done at the children’s hospital couldn’t make up for Jerica’s loss.

Sarah quit, spent a month with her parents, helping around the house and in the garden, and simply absorbing the comfort of being home. Her sister, Kate, who was married and had beautiful four-year-old twin boys, visited regularly. Sarah had enjoyed them until they coughed or sniffled, whereupon she’d found herself listening for wheezing sounds and checking skin color while unreasonable fears mounted inside her.

“You’re just burned out, sweetheart,” her father had said when she explained her feelings. “You’ll recover. Or maybe you should find some other kind of nursing that isn’t so hard on you.”

Conducting a job search online, Sarah had discovered Coast Care in Beggar’s Bay and had worked for the owner, John Baldrich, for the past year. Most of her clients were seniors. They were sometimes cranky, but for the most part, they appreciated her visits.

Sarah guided her sturdy white Jeep through the maze of homes that made up the community and pulled into Vinny’s driveway. His house was a small two-bedroom with bright colors and a lot of style. Vinny’s wife, who’d died the year before, had had an eye for design.

Vinny met Sarah at the door as he always did, leaning heavily on his cane as he ushered her inside. He wore a bright red flannel shirt with gray sweatpants and had combed his thin gray hair. Horn-rimmed glasses sat on a formidable nose over a bright smile of original teeth.

“How are ya, gorgeous?” he asked.