Dreamland(42)

“How do you pull it all off?”

“My aunt does a lot, as does the general manager. I’ve also learned to prioritize.”

“I don’t think I’d be cut out for a life like that,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean, I’m responsible, just not that responsible.”

“You don’t have to live that life. You’re going to be famous.”

“From your lips to God’s ears.”

“Trust me,” I said, knowing I’d never been as certain about anything.





Once we finished eating, we wandered down the beach to the Don. The beachside restaurant was half full; I saw others taking in the evening from loungers at the poolside. Another couple was making their way from the hotel to the beach; lost in their own conversation, they walked past without seeming to notice us. Morgan stopped on the sand just steps from the deck and turned toward me. Staring at her, I thought again that I’d never seen anyone more beautiful.

“I guess this is it,” I said.

She seemed to study the hotel before turning back to me. “Thank you for today,” she said. “For everything.”

“My pleasure,” I said. “It was the best day I’ve had here.”

“Me, too,” she said, with such tenderness that what happened next seemed inevitable.

I closed the gap between us and tugged her gently toward me. I saw her eyes widen ever so slightly, and for an instant I wondered if I should stop. Though she’d kissed me twice, I think both of us knew this one would be different, that this kiss would carry with it emotions that neither of us had anticipated until this very moment.

But I could no longer help myself, and tilting my head, I closed my eyes as our lips came together, softly at first, and then with even more passion. I felt her body press against mine, and when our tongues met, warmth surged like an underground current through me. Wrapping both arms around her, I heard her give a deep-throated purr, and her hand wound its way up into my hair.

As we kissed, my mind searched for answers, trying to grasp when and how it had happened. It might have been while we were in the kayaks or when I heard her sing or even while we had dinner together—but I suddenly understood that I’d fallen in love with this woman, a woman I’d met only days ago; already, though, I felt as if I’d known her forever.

When we separated, my feelings threatened to overflow, but I forced myself to remain quiet. We simply stared at each other until I finally let out a breath, not realizing that I’d been holding it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night, Morgan,” I said, my voice almost hoarse.

“Good night, Colby,” she answered, studying my face as if committing it to memory, and minutes later, as I walked down the beach, I found myself reliving the kiss, certain that my life would never be the same.





Beverly couldn’t stop thinking about cameras in the bus stations.

How could she have been so dumb? Hadn’t there been a zillion movies and television shows where the government used those cameras to catch spies and criminals? Oh, she knew electronic surveillance wasn’t quite as sophisticated as what Hollywood portrayed, but even local television news confirmed that cameras were everywhere these days. They were installed on street corners, in traffic lights, above the cash registers at small businesses. She’d remembered their presence when she took Tommie to the convenience store to get him something to eat, so why hadn’t she considered something even more obvious?

With shaking legs and racing mind, Beverly somehow made it to the table, and she was still sitting there when Tommie wandered into the kitchen. He plopped into his seat, wiping the sleep from his eyes. To steady her fraying nerves, she forced herself to rise. She poured him a bowl of cereal, added milk, and brought his breakfast to the table along with a spoon.

She flashed a quick smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice she was barely holding it together, then went to make his lunch. Peanut butter and jelly sandwich and an apple, along with change for milk from the cafeteria. No Doritos or Fritos or Oreos or Nutter Butters, sadly, but right now it was all she could do to keep from glancing out the window, expecting to find Gary standing in the yard.

“I heard someone last night,” Tommie eventually said.

His words nearly made her jump. She tried to remember the last time he’d spoken first in the morning, without her having to coax it out of him. When his words finally registered, she felt another surge of anxiety.

“That was probably me,” she said. “I was up late cleaning the kitchen.”

“I heard someone outside.”

Water was dripping from the faucet, the plink-plink-plink steady and rhythmic, clashing with morning birdsong. An old truck puttered along the gravel road, and she saw an arm wave from the window before it vanished from sight. Mist rose from the fields as though a cloud had dropped from the sky.

“There was no one outside,” she said. “I would have heard them.”

“He was on the roof.”

A year ago, Tommie had begun having nightmares. She thought it had something to do with the television he watched, or maybe the book Where the Wild Things Are. In his early nightmares, he would awaken with cries, claiming that he was being chased by a monster. Sometimes the monster was like a dinosaur; other times it was a wild animal or a hooded figure of some sort. And always, always, Tommie swore that the monster was calling his name.