Sharon Sala - For Her Eyes Only

Brenda sighed and rolled onto her back, one arm outflung on Jessica’s pillow, the other trailing off the side of the bed. Jessica glanced down and frowned. As if the dreams weren’t bad enough, Brenda had a tendency to take her half of the bed from the middle. She patted Brenda on the shoulder.

“Brenda!”

Brenda snorted softly, muttering something in her sleep.

The pat turned into a shove. “Brenda!”

Brenda groaned and cracked an eye. “What?” Then she remembered where she was and why she’d come. When she saw Jessica sitting up in the bed, she came awake in an instant.

“What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”

“No, but you’re going to be if you don’t move over,” Jessica muttered.

Brenda blinked like a baby owl. “Sorry,” she said, and scooted back to her side of the bed.

With a defeated sigh, Jessica tried to go back to sleep. But she kept seeing the needle glittering in the lamplight as the assailant plunged it into the back of Olivia Stuart’s leg. Something kept telling her there was more to what she was seeing than just a dream. Long minutes later, she rolled over.

“Brenda. Are you asleep?”

Brenda shoved a lock of hair from her face. “I’m not now,” she mumbled.

“Have you ever had a vision?”

Brenda rolled over. “Jessie, honey, does your head still hurt?”

“Of course it does. But one thing has nothing to do with the other.”

Brenda eyed the clock and groaned. “It’s three in the morning. Don’t you think we could save this conversation for daylight? You need your rest. I need my rest. Go back to sleep.”

“I’m afraid to,” Jessica said in a quiet, resigned tone.

Brenda sat up, her attention caught. “What do you mean?”

Jessica picked at a loose thread on the edge of the blanket without answering until Brenda yanked the blanket away.

“Jessica Leigh Hanson, I asked you a question.”

Jessica’s smile was slight as she looked up. “You sounded just like Mother.”

Dismayed, Brenda sighed and slid her arm around her sister’s neck. “Jessie, if you don’t talk, I can’t help.”

Jessica frowned. “I could talk from now to daylight and I still don’t think you can help. In fact, I don’t think anyone can help.”

“You’ll never know until you try.”

Jessica sighed. “I keep having this dream about Olivia Stuart dying.”

Brenda’s voice softened. “Oh, honey. That’s understandable. You must have been in the ER when they brought her in.”

Jessica shook her head. “I don’t think so. If I was, I don’t remember. I don’t remember much of anything after I hit my head.” Except Stone Richardson…but that doesn’t count.

“Maybe talking about it will help. What were you dreaming?”

“She was by a table.”

“Who was by a table?” Brenda asked.

Jessica rolled her eyes, trying not to let her frustration show. “Olivia Stuart,” she repeated. “At first I thought she was at my desk, but she wouldn’t come help me.”

Brenda brushed the hair away from Jessica’s bandage and patted her arm. “Honey, head injuries do weird things to people. Maybe you just—”

Jessica drew back in frustration. “I knew you would say that, but it’s not so! I know what I saw. I mean… I know what I saw in my dream, and in my dream, Olivia Stuart did not die from a heart attack. She was stabbed.”

Brenda gasped, for the moment caught up in the telling. And then she remembered. “But don’t you see? Now you know for certain it was just a dream. I heard that the doctors and nurses at Vanderbilt worked on her for some time. They would have seen a stab wound. There would have been blood. Lots of blood.” She patted Jessica’s arm. “It’s just a bad dream caused by the blow to your head.”

Fighting exhaustion and tears, Jessica laid back down and pulled the covers up to her chin as her sister rolled over to her side of the bed. Wrapped in quiet and lulled by a false sense of security, Jessica began to settle. But at the edge of sleep, her voice broke the silence.

“She wasn’t stabbed with a knife. It was a needle. A hypodermic needle…in the back of the leg.”

* * *

Brenda thrust her foot into the leg of her jeans and yanked them up while Jessica watched from the bed.

“Thank you for spending the night with me,” she said.

Brenda smiled. “That’s what sisters are for.” And then the smile quirked. “That is, when there are no good-looking cops around.”

Jessica refused to look at Brenda. Her heart was so full of memories that she feared if Brenda saw her face, she would know. “I already told you. I have nothing in common with the man. You’re the one he dated, not me.”

“And there’s your answer. Dated. As in…past tense. Also, that was ages ago. I haven’t given him a thought in forever.”

Yeah, well, I wish I could say the same.

Brenda stuffed her nightgown into her bag. “There. I think I have everything. I need to go home and feed the cat and check my messages.” She glanced toward the clock and realized it was running. “Oh, look! The power is back on.”

Jessica followed her sister’s gaze and sighed. At least one part of this nightmare was over.

Brenda continued, unaware of Jessica’s disinterest. “The boss is out of town and probably frantic because no one’s there. However, I doubt there’s a soul in town who’s interested in redecorating their home right now.”

Jessica nodded. “I know. I was in the middle of payroll at the lodge when the power went off. Everyone’s probably having a fit because their checks will be late, but I didn’t want to risk direct deposit—and I was right. Who knows if the bank would have received everything.”

Brenda picked up her bag and then fixed her baby sister with a long, assessing stare.

“Jessie.”

Jessica looked up.

“About last night and what you said…”

“What about it?” Jessica asked. Her voice was defensive and she knew it.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t be telling just anyone that you’re having hallucinations. They might get the wrong idea.”

Jessica’s lower lip slid slightly forward. “What if it’s not a hallucination?”

Brenda shrugged. “I still wouldn’t be talking about them.” Then she glanced down at her watch. “I’ve got to run. You’ve got juice in the fridge and cereal in the cabinet. However, your milk is sour.”

“Oh, yummy.”

Jessica’s sarcasm was not lost on Brenda. She grinned. “I’ll call you later. Stay in bed. Rest. I love you.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “In spite of your incessant need to boss me around, I love you, too.”

Brenda left, and then moments later, came back on the run.

“Jessie, have you seen my car keys? I can’t find them anywhere. I thought they were in my bag, but they’re not.”

Without waiting for Jessica to answer, she began turning the bedroom upside down, looking under cushions and then dashing into the adjoining bathroom to see if they might be there.

Just as Brenda slammed a cabinet door, Jessica began to lose track of where she was. The air in front of her seemed to shift, and suddenly she had a clear and perfect vision of a set of keys sticking out of the lock on a trunk. She got out of bed just as Brenda came out of the bathroom.

“Shoot,” Brenda muttered. “I can’t seem to find them—”

“You left them in the trunk lock last night.”

In the act of looking under the bed, Brenda froze. Slowly, she looked up, meeting her sister’s gaze over the edge of the mattress.

“What did you say?”

“I said, they’re in the lock on the trunk.”

Realization dawned. Brenda remembered opening the trunk to get her bag. Yes! That was the last time she’d had them! She got to her feet with a look of relief on her face and was almost out of the room before it hit her.