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“Look!” He pointed directly above them. “A shooting star. That’s meant to be good luck, isn’t it?”
Jason’s arms wrapped around her, holding her close. “I have a good feeling about this weekend, baby girl.”
“Me too, Daddy,” she said, leaning back against him again.
The lavender bath salts Carly had left with the towels relaxed her completely, and with the warm water caressing her body and soothing her muscles, it wasn’t long before she found herself drifting off to sleep against Jason’s shoulder.
CHAPTER8
Catherine tilted her head back to down the last of her coffee. “My dream was so real last night,” she commented to Jason. “So vivid.”
Jason slid his hand up her thigh.
“There was a woman in it this time, just a silhouette, I couldn’t see her face. She was standing in the doorway of the hut—this hut—looking out over the mountains.”
Jason squeezed her thigh. “Hmm.” He sounded disapproving. Or disappointed; Catherine couldn’t tell which. “I was hoping that being up here, away from it all, nice and relaxed, would mean the end of those dreams.”
“Why?” Catherine asked, genuinely puzzled. “I told you, they’re trying to tell me something. I wish I knew what it was.”
Jason’s hand slid up a bit higher, but Catherine put her hand on his, stopping him. She wasn’t in the mood for sex right now; she wanted to talk about her dream. She wanted to get to the bottom of it.
“Why do you think that?” Jason asked, picking up her fingers.
Catherine took a deep breath. She was a bit reluctant to tell him—she was self-conscious about this dream, ever since Steve had reacted so badly to it all, and just about had her convinced she was insane.He’s not Steve,she reminded herself again.
“Because they got more frequent, more detailed, once Emma started tracing our family tree and seeing all the missing links in it.” Even to her ears, it sounded stupid. What could a dream possibly have to do with the family tree? Maybe Steve was right. Maybe she was mad.
“But didn’t that coincide with the miscarriages?” Jason asked. “You told me she sent you the family tree to distract you,” he pointed out.
Catherine glared at him. Did Jason think she was crazy too? If he did… She shook her head. She couldn’t go through that again. If he doubted her sanity even the tiniest bit, she didn’t want to be with him. She was done with men questioning her mental state.
“I’ve been having the same dream since I was a child,” she reminded him.
“Yeah, and they seemed to coincide back then with bad things happening in your life. Stress does funny things, Catherine.”
Emotions warred within her. She’d thought he was ‘the one’—she really did. They had history together, and fate had brought him back into her life—they were meant to be. That was what she’d believed, anyway. But now she was starting to doubt it. He knew how important this was to her and if he couldn’t take her seriously…
Devastated, she threw his hand off her thigh angrily and tossed the covers back.
“You don’t believe me,” she whispered, clambering very ungracefully to her feet and reaching for the t-shirt she’d discarded carelessly on the floor earlier. “You think I’m crazy.”
“No.” He stood up, reached for her, but she shrugged him away.
“Don’t touch me.”
Hastily, she pulled on underwear. Jeans.
“You know how important this is to me!” she yelled at him, tears of betrayal and frustration pouring down her face. “Youknow!”
She needed to get out of here. She needed to run. Her heart pounded and she couldn’t think clearly as she ripped off her t-shirt. She needed a bra. She couldn’t run without a bra.
“Catherine—”
“No. Leave me alone. You don’t believe me!” she yelled, frantically doing up her bra, yanking her t-shirt back on. Her pulse pounded in her ears. Anger flooded her. Betrayal. Hurt.
“I didn’t say that, I said—”
“I know what you said!” Catherine yelled as she pulled on her shoes. “You think it’s stress! You think I’m crazy!”
