I don’t know who he was. He didn’t have on a firefighter’s uniform, but he had to be a rescue worker of some kind. He knew exactly what to do. My hips hurt A LOT. I couldn’t walk, for sure. He held me tight and carried me out through the dusty air into the night. My hands were behind his neck, but I wanted for some crazy reason to touch the corner of his mouth. It looked so tense.
Tense was right! I’d had no idea what I was doing—so much so, that for the past twenty years I’d blocked out the whole experience, apparently. That, or I’d been whacked on the head during a second trip into the library.
Just a second. I think that’s what might have happened. Reading Sheridan’s account brought even more details back to my memory. I’d left her at the ambulance, apparently, and according to Harvey Pooler, I’d gone back inside.
I came out later, no survivor in my arms, but then suffered a bump on the head.
That was it. Another concussion, just like Dr. Cook had said. And it had eighty-sixed my memories of the event. Whoa. Harvey Pooler hadn’t been lying.
I sat down on the edge of her bed, reeling. It was all true—all of it. Sheridan and I had been together that night.
She’d needed me, and I’d been there. Me. My words had been hope, and they’d helped her.
Then, as an adult, I’d rejected that hope. I’d only focused on losing Lance, and I’d changed.
Sheridan had been right about me since the day she stormed into my office to tell me she was suing me. I had needed this wake-up call. I did need to change! And I could. I’d been the man with the hope-filling words in the past, and I could do that again.
Maybe then, I’d actually deserve to be the MVS for the region.
Wow. Sheridan and her wisdom struck again.
And she wasn’t here for me to thank or to kiss—or to propose to.
My dream wasn’t prophetic, it was my subconscious showing me what I needed most: the woman who loved me and always had. She was my guidepost and my way.
Although, there may have been some kind of Divine intervention helping my subconscious along.
Wow. I was so lucky. I couldn’t wait for her to come back so I could tell her what else I’d learned about my past—and to invite her into my future. Our future.
A text came in. Sheridan! I whipped out my phone.
But no, it wasn’t from Sheridan. It was from Carlton Cook.
Just got an email from the administration. With my recommendation, you’re cleared to return to work Monday. Are you ready for that? Two surgeries are scheduled.
Was I! I shot an elated reply. Wow, I couldn’t wait to share the great news with Sheridan.
I dialed her number, and this time, she picked up.
“Sheridan!” I almost burst with the news. “You’re not going to believe this.”
“Save it, Luke.”
Uh-oh. She was still in a bad mood. I’d almost forgotten.
“But, I have been cleared to go back to work.”
“That’s good. I’ll finish Marcia Dawsonside’s list alone. I was planning to anyway. Good luck, right? Oh, and thanks for everything. Lock up my house when you leave, would you?”
But—I wasn’t planning on leaving. “I thought I’d wait until you come back. I’ll make you some dinner.”
“No, Luke.” She dragged out a sigh. “I think we both know this has to end. It was all based on an impossible dream. Just … go home.”
Go home. But—
But she hung up.
I’d been ordered out of her house. Why did that feel like a rip to my soul?