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Nine
“This is fantastic.”
I finished off my last bite of bruschetta, which I now knew was called fettunta in this part of the country. The freshly toasted Tuscan bread was generously rubbed with garlic and lavishly drizzled with green olive oil then sparingly sprinkled with salt. I licked my lips, savoring the flavors, excited to be experiencing all this for real instead of just reading about it in books.
Growing up on my own, the only adventures I had were thanks to the images and words of others—Keelyn at one point calling me a modern-day savant. Knowing the meaning, I laughed at the word but still didn’t think it applied to me.
“Did you know that each Italian region has their own distinct dishes?” Roarke asked midbite, which of course I did not.
My eyes widened as a large bowl of panzanella salad—made with day-old bread, tomatoes, onion, basil, olive oil, and balsamic vinegar—was set between us on the table. I dished out two servings for both of us to share.
“It’s true. So much so that some argue there isn’t really such a thing as Italian food but rather Sicilian or Venetian or of course, my favorite now, Tuscan food.” He smiled and winked, then took a bite of the stale bread that accompanied our meal. “Much like this bread, Tuscan cuisine is inspired by traditional ‘peasant food’ from the surrounding farming regions. The simple, rustic ingredients might have humble roots but were cherished and nurtured, and nothing was ever thrown away.”
I took another sip of wine, swallowing my first bite. “Well, that’s something I can certainly appreciate. I try to use everything my garden produces and know how to layer flavor with just the right spice or herb.”
Roarke set down his fork. “That’s something I’d very much like to see.”
I smiled but shook my head. “What do you mean?”
“I’d like to see you cook.”
“Um…” I stammered. “I thought we couldn’t interact in the real world?”
“We can’t, but obviously, what we experience in the dreamscape is as close to real as anyone can get. You could cook for me at my cabin.” He shrugged, digging back into his meal.
Cook for him in the dreamscape in his secret home in the middle of the woods? I shoveled another forkful of food into my mouth, buying me some time to answer. Admittedly, I’d been falling for the Weaver since I first saw him in my dreams. But now he was becoming a major part of my life, and the potential to deepen our connection was as real as the moon in the sky.
A shooting star streaked overhead, and I chuckled to myself. My heart was that star—constantly racing ahead and pulling me along in its wake.
I took another sip of wine and replied, “I would be happy to cook for you. Just name the time and date.”
“Tomorrow night as soon as you fall asleep.”
I swallowed past a lump in my throat that was definitely not the bread. Sitting back, I placed my napkin across my plate. “Any requests?” I tried to be brave, though my insides were a muddled mess.
“Not really. Surprise me.” Roarke, too, had finished his meal and stood up from the table. “This has been a wonderful evening, Milly, but it’s time we return.”
I placed my hand in his, steadying my wobbly knees and fluttering heart as he helped me from my chair. We walked down the cobblestone path hand in hand, nearing my dream car again.
“Since you brought all this into existence, you’ll need to be the one to send it back.”
Panicked and unsure of what to do, I stumbled over my words. “Send it back… to where? I simply thought it into the dream like you told me I could.”
“That’s right. And now you just need to think it gone.”
Again, I closed my eyes but lifted a lid to confirm I was doing it right. I imagined the parking lot empty and smiled when Roarke exhaled and squeezed my hand.
“See, I told you it would be easy to use your magic here.”
I opened my eyes, satisfied as he pulled me forward, ready to take us back to reality. But as I looked behind me, I could swear I saw smoke in the distance, dancing on the wind.
Waking in bed alone, I didn’t feel Jenks’s weight upon the covers. “Jenks? Are you okay, sweet boy? Where are you?” A scuffle in the back room brought me upright, my eyes straining to adjust in the dark. “Come back to bed, buddy. I need you.”
Light footsteps padded into the room, followed by a sweet meow. Jenks jumped up onto the bed, settling on top of my chest as I lay back down.
“Hi there,” I whispered, stroking his fur.
Between the purring and his grounding energy, my familiar had me relaxed and back to sleep within minutes—and thankfully without any further dreams. With my adventures over for the night, I slept like a baby… until the next morning when I saw the news.
