Beautiful Nightmare (Dark Dream 2)

“Be careful not to touch anything,” she warned as I stepped into the cold, filtered air of the temperature-controlled room. “If you don’t have the key for the cases, the alarms will sound.”

I nodded mutely, struck dumb by the cases of art sealed in the chamber. There was a small collection of Degas sketches in one case and a large painting I somewhat recognized as a Frida Kahlo sketch in another.

I turned slowly, my eye catching Le Reve instantly, snagging on the bright colors and surreal lines. The mistress was blonde like Aida, dozing in a red chair in a way that was both sensual and romantic. The love Picasso felt for his subject was apparent in every line of her body.

My dream and my dove, Lane would say.

I wondered for the millionth time what endearment he would have given Brando if he’d had the time to watch him grow older.

The case was all glass based on a metal platform with a keyhole in one corner. I stepped closer and bent, studying the small slot as my hand went into my deep coat pocket and curled around the key Tiernan had found behind the Child with a Dove painting.

“If I open the case with a key, will the alarm go off?” I whispered to Emelie, my entire focus on the gold framed painting.

“It shouldn’t,” she murmured, her eyes hot on the back of my head.

I nodded slightly, tongue between my teeth as I took out the key and carefully slotted it into the mechanism. When it fit smoothly inside, a sob burst from my lips.

This was it.

The dream within The Dream.

The click of the lock opening was loud in the still room but the glass door swung open soundlessly as I pulled it back.

“Stop,” Emelie said, making me jump in my skin. I whirled around to face her, ready to do battle for what lay beneath the painting, but she only stepped forward to pull a pair of protective gloves from her pocket. “Put these on if you want to touch it.”

After I dragged them on, she placed a gentle hand on my wrist. “May I check the painting for you? I don’t want any damage done to the canvas.”

All I could do was nod as I stepped back to watch Emelie reach into the case and carefully lift the painting so she could flip it over, replacing it on the easel so that the back was to us. She carefully undid the latches securing the frame then pulled out a pair of pliers from her lab coat to coax the frame support from the backing. As she peeled it back a flurry of thin papers fell from the gap in the layers to line the bottom of the case.

Before Emelie could move, I wedged myself on the gap between her and the case, dropping to my knees to collect the papers.

“What is it?” she asked, breathless with excitement. “I did the inspection on the work myself when it as donated…these must have been added after it was already stored here.”

I wasn’t listening.

My eyes were glued to the papers, a collection of them scrawled with Lane’s loose, loping scrawl. A stapled set of documents lay in the debris as well, officially presented with the header of a law firm I recognized from the papers Caroline had tried to have me sign just days before.

I collected them all almost frantically, trying to order the handwritten pages so I could finally read the goodbye I’d never been able to have with my dad.

My doves,

There is no way to say goodbye to the ones you love, but as I think on it, I believe that is for a reason. We never truly say goodbye to the people we love because we live on in each other’s hearts and minds long after one of us might be gone. Maybe it is the delusions of an aging man, but I like to imagine you all thinking of me as you go on with your lives. I have no plans to die soon, but if I do I hope Aida, my love, that I am able to take care of you beyond the grave. Since the first moment I met you, I wanted to give you the life you dreamed of. I know I failed in that regard, but you never made me doubt that our love was enough. That and our beautiful children are the two best gifts this wealthy man has received. To be loved for me alone, and not my riches. You, my dream, have been the escape that has kept me sane these many years. I wish I could thank you properly for that. Instead, I will just have to say for the millionth time, I love you and even in death, I will never stop doing so.