Part 10 (1/2)
She was silent.
”Hey, it's all right. Really. And apparently this guy doesn't have a Lady MacNiall, so there will be no skeletons in the closet, right. He really is something, though, huh?”
”Yes.” Toni was surprised to feel herself coloring a little.
David smiled, finding another blade of hay to gnaw. ”There were lots of sparks flying when you two were arguing last night.”
”I'm known to send off sparks now and then.”
”Usually only when you're defending friends or the downtrodden!” David said with a laugh. Then he looked at her seriously. ”You aren't still raving mad about this guy, and we all think that he's right--despite the fact that we don't want to. So.. .something else is bothering you.”
It was a simple statement from a man who knew her far too well.
She glanced his way, hesitated, then said, ”I had the most awful nightmare last night. And I screamed b.l.o.o.d.y murder. That's why he and I wound up talking.”
”Okay...” David said slowly. ”Talking to him upset you?”
”No. The nightmare upset me.”
”You remember it?”
”Yes, it was terrifying. But the strange thing is that Bruce--or his ancestor--was the nightmare.”
David arched a brow so she continued. ”He was just.. .there. It was as if I had opened my eyes and seen him, huge, in full battle regalia, standing at the foot of my bed. And he was dressed like a Cavalier. He looked like our Bruce, except that his hair was longer and kilted, he had something like half armor on, there was a sheath of some kind at his ankle with a knife and he was carrying a sword.”
”And standing at the foot of your bed?”
”Yes.”
”All right, let's a.n.a.lyze this. Why was he so terrifying?”
She stared at him. ”He was at the foot of my bed!”
”And that's all?”
”Well, what if you woke up and found a ghost at the foot of your bed?”
”I'd wake Kevin, and knowing Kevin, he'd be all excited and try to talk to the fellow.”
She knew that he was trying to tease her, to make her feel better. But she knew more.
”He was carrying a sword,” she said.
”Well, if you dreamed about a Cavalier who fought many battles, naturally he'd be carrying a sword.”
”It was dripping blood.”
”Toni, you were a theater major who has written a number of plays. You're imaginative. I'd expect no less from you than a dream in living color with complete attention to detail.”
”You don't understand, because I've never even talked to you about this, but...” She hesitated, staring at him. She saw nothing in his eyes but the deep concern of a very good friend. ”Years ago, as a child, I.. .dreamed things.”
”All children dream.”
She looked across the stables. ”No. I dreamed things that had happened, really bad things. Murders. The police would come to my house and grill me about what I had seen. I could describe people, sometimes. And could generally tell them exactly what had happened.”
”Did they ever catch anyone because of these dreams of yours?” David asked, his tone grave.
”I believe so.”
”Then, you were doing something good, Toni.”
”Maybe,” she murmured. ”But I couldn't live with it! And my poor parents! How they fought over it. Anyway, there came a point where I really couldn't stand it anymore. I blacked out, or something, and wound up in the hospital.”
”And your folks didn't take you to a shrink?” he asked incredulously.
Toni shook her head. ”There was a man, a friend of my mom's. He was wonderful. He seemed to understand exactly what I was going through. When the cops got too persistent, he came in, gentle and quiet, and calmed me down. When I woke up in the hospital, he was there. He seemed to know that my little mind was on overload. I told him that I didn't dream, that dreaming was bad.”
”And then?”
”We moved. And I made it stop.”
”You made it stop?” David said.
She nodded. ”You don't know what it was like. My parents were torn apart. The dreams were horrendous. David, I could see murders--as they happened, after they happened, just before they happened. Then there were those people who found out about it who weren't with the police. They behaved as if I had leprosy. You can't imagine.”
”Yes, actually, that part I can,” David murmured. He picked up her hand. ”Toni, I don't think you should worry, not just yet, anyway. Seriously, I'm not insisting that everything in the world has a logical explanation, but we're in Scotland, and we did learn about a very similar history to the one you invented. As for seeing an ancient Scotsman in your bedroom in full fighting regalia, well, let me tell you, when the modern-day Bruce MacNiall came riding in during your presentation, that was pretty darned memorable.”
”You think I'm being silly?” she asked him.
”I think that you shouldn't worry too much,” he told her. He squeezed her hand. ”Bruce MacNiall is still what you might want to call a variable. But don't forget that you are surrounded by friends here, friends who love you very much. It's going to be fine. Trust me. Besides, what can you do?”
”Nothing, I guess.”
”What happened to the man?”
”What man?”
”The man who came to talk to you. The one who apparently controlled things and made you feel better.”
”Oh, Adam.”
”Adam...?”
”Harrison,” she said.
”Is he still alive?”
”Oh, yes. Well, at least he was two years ago. He came to see my show when I was doing Varina Davis in D.C.” She smiled. ”He didn't look as if he'd aged a day. He was still and straight and dignified, soft-spoken. . .very nice.”
”Seeing him didn't awaken anything?” David asked.