Page 46 of The Secret of Emerald Cottage

“Yes, and it wasn’t a dream either because I always remember my dreams, but I have no memory of anything but the sensation of being gently shaken and someone calling my name with a degree of urgency.”

“So, what did you do?”

She grunted. “I tore out of my room like my feet were on fire, flying down those stairs screaming her name when her room was empty. And when I saw the back door wide open?” Another shudder wracked her body as the memory rushed back with a vengeance. “I just knew she was in that lake, Brec, and she was, struggling to stay afloat.” Her throat convulsed hard. “I tore down the ramp and got there just as she went under, but just in time, thank God.” She pinned Brec with a potent look that dared him to disagree. “So I did thank Him, Brec—over and over—because it was God that saved Miss Lilly that night, not me.”

He shifted uncomfortably, sinking back into his chair. “Yes, thank God, indeed. So … was that the last time for a nightmare till tonight?”

She commenced to buffing her arms again. “Actually … no.”

“No?” His facial features tensed as if he expected to pop up in her next nightmare.

“I … uh … dreamt of a house burning down”—she hesitated, reluctant to divulge the rest, but figuring he had a right to know—“on Lake Loon. A week before Roy’s house burned down.”

“Sweet Janey Mac,” he muttered the shock in his voice mirroring that in his face.

“Now you see why tonight’s dream has me quaking in my bed.” She gave a lackluster shrug. “So, what do you think we should do?”

A grunt rumbled from his lips. “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. We’re going to take extra precautions, which means on all your future jogs around the lake? Somebody will be with you whether it’s me or Cat or Chase, understood?”

“Brec, really, I promise I can take care of my—”

He arched a thick, dark brow. “Oh, like you did in your dream? Nothing doing, Princess, because your dream is not going to become my nightmare, end of argument. Then, you know what else we’re going to do?”

She blasted out a noisy sigh, torn between being annoyed and downright happy that he cared so darn much. “What?”

He rose to push the chair back against the wall with a grunt. “I’m going to purchase a gun,” he said, finally turning to level a threatening finger, “and you’re going to teach me to shoot.”