Blossom Street Brides (Blossom Street #10)(93)

Brad looked over at their daughter, and his words were low and serious. “Casey, these dreams terrify you; we want to help.”

Their daughter looked up again and blinked several times. “You want me to tell you about the dream, don’t you? That’s why you brought me to dinner.”

“No, sweetheart, we don’t need you to tell us, especially since you feel strongly about it. You haven’t wanted to talk about what the dream involves, and that’s fine.”

“It is?” A look of relief came over her as her shoulders relaxed against the back of the booth.

“But you need someone who can help you.”

Right away, Casey tensed again and adamantly shook her head. “I don’t need anyone.”

“Casey …”

“I’ll outgrow it.”

“Sweetheart, listen,” Lydia said gently, and leaned forward, stretching her arm across the table, “we aren’t doing this because we’re angry or upset. We want to help you get over whatever it is that is causing you to have these nightmares.”

“I don’t want to know what’s causing them,” she said, her voice growing stronger now. The people in the booth across from them glanced over, and right away Casey lowered her voice. “I’ll be okay … I won’t have the dream anymore.”

“You’re being unrealistic. Sooner or later you’ll need to confront whatever is behind this.”

“No, I won’t,” Casey insisted, in complete denial.

“All we’re asking,” Brad said in gentle, encouraging tones, “is that you talk to someone trained in this area who will help explain why this is happening. And then they can give you a means of dealing with it.”

“Like who am I supposed to talk to?” That suspicious edge was back in full force.

“A trained professional.”

Casey flattened her hands on the tabletop and half rose from the bench seat. “Are you going to send me to the loony bin?”

“Loony bin?” Lydia said, unable to hold back a smile. “Where in heaven’s name did you ever hear that expression?”

“From Grandma.”

“Of course,” Lydia whispered. It should have been obvious.

“To answer your question, your mother and I aren’t sending you anywhere. You’re staying with us.”

Casey took a long drink of her soda through the straw. “That’s a relief.”

“But we want you to talk to someone.”

“Who?” Casey’s eyes narrowed.

“A counselor.”

Even before the word was completely out of Brad’s mouth, Casey started to shake her head. “No way.”

“Casey, please listen.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

The waiter delivered their dinners, but they barely noticed. Casey sat with her back as stiff as a corpse, determination written on every part of her body.

“Besides, we can’t afford for me to talk to anyone. I heard you and Dad discussing this a few months back. When Dad found out how expensive seeing a counselor was, he said there was no way the family could fit it into the budget.”

“But I also said,” Brad interrupted, “that we would find a way, because that’s what families do. You need help, and as your parents, we are determined to see that you get it.”

“A counselor costs lots of money,” Casey reminded them, looking smug.

“The thing is,” Lydia said, gripping her daughter’s hand, “we have already made an appointment with a counselor. Evelyn Boyle recommended one who is willing to charge us on a sliding scale.”

“A what?” Casey asked with a frown.

“We’ll be charged according to our income level,” Brad explained.

“And because of the boom in sales at the yarn store, we’re able to do this. I need to thank whoever it was who put out those baskets.”

“The yarn baskets?” Casey echoed, her frown darkening.

“I don’t know who is behind this, but I owe them a huge debt of appreciation. My business has gone way up due to all the publicity. I’ve been able to give Margaret extra hours and make some improvements I’d been putting off due to finances. And now we can get you the help you need, too.”

“Whoever thought of that idea did your mother a huge favor,” Brad added.

Her daughter lowered her head, but not before Lydia noticed a huge smile come into place. “Casey?”

“It was Grandma and me. Oh, and Ava helped me, too.”

“Excuse me?” Lydia was sure she hadn’t heard correctly.

Casey looked up. “It was Grandma and me,” she repeated, louder this time. “I heard you and Dad talking about how the yarn store is barely surviving financially. I told Grandma, and we decided we should do something to help.”

“You seem to listen in on other people’s conversations a lot,” Brad noticed.

Casey shrugged. “It’s a habit I picked up in foster homes. It was the only way I knew what was happening.”

“Go on,” Lydia said, anxious now to hear about her mother and Casey’s scheme.

Excitedly, Casey reached for her fork and waved it about. “Like I said, I heard you tell Dad that the yarn store wasn’t doing so great. Then I told Grandma. Together we came up with the idea of putting baskets with yarn around for people to knit.”