Cate Tiernan - Reckoning

Neither if us could figure out how to get of the phone, so we talked for a few more minutes, both of us trying to sound casual. Being Charlie, he had to crack a few jokes about how he had chased me away. Being me, I had to sniffle a lot. He promised to come and visit New York as soon as he could.

Just one more gut-wrenching conversation to go.

Sam was sitting up in his bed, reading, when I knocked. He welcomed me in. His bedroom was gorgeous. Very Sam. The furniture was huge and antique, with dragonfly-patterned stained glass lamps on either side of the bed. The cats were contently nuzzling each other. I sat down on his down comforter near the foot of the bed.

"I have to go home," I said, stroking Mandu as he came up and stood on my lap. "My coven leader is coming for me. He'll be here in the morning, probably pretty early."

Sam set down his book and took off his glasses.

"Tomorrow morning?" he repeated.

I nodded.

"Good luck, Alisa," he said gently, reaching over to take my hand. "I'm not going to say good-bye, because I know you'll be back. The door is always open here."

"Thanks," I said, going all misty once again. These good-byes were rough. I could see that his eyes were getting red as well. I sat there for a few moments, petting the cats, just taking in the moment with Sam.

"You're tired," he finally said, looking me in the eye. "It's time you got some sleep."

He was right, I was exhausted, but I was also too edgy to rest. Sam got up and walked me back downstairs, his arm over my shoulders. After he had securely tucked me into my bed on the coach, he put his hand on my forehead, and I felt a slow, blissful relaxation take me over. It felt like I was lying on a raft in a pool, the lulling bump of water pushing me along inch by inch. I was asleep within seconds. I don't even remember Sam turning out the light or going upstairs, so I have no idea how long he sat there.

I had another dream that night, but it wasn't like the one about the mermaid. I was back in the yard with my mother, walking towards the pot of flowers. Once again I looked up, but this time I could see her clearly. I saw the almond shape of her eyes, so much like mine. Her pale skin was flushed by the Texas sun.

"You did it," she said again.

Then I realized—I wasn't a toddler. It was just me, just as I am now, standing across from her and holding her hands.

"You showed me," I managed to say.

She shook her head and said no more. But her smile told me everything.