Dream Vacation

By J.J. DiBenedetto

Thanks to her unique ability to step into other people's dreams, Dr. Sara Alderson has solved murders, unraveled conspiracies and saved lives. But when a crisis hits close to home, even her supernatural gift might not be enough to avert disaster.

On a family vacation to Paris, Sara's fifteen-year-old daughter Grace disappears without a trace. The only way to find her is through Sara's dreams. But her gift has taken an unwanted vacation, and without it, Sara has no idea how to rescue Grace. In a foreign city, with no clues, and her dreaming talent failing her for the first time, Sara must figure out another way to find Grace before it's too late.

Dream Vacation is the seventh book of the Dream Doctor Mysteries.

Other Books By JJ Dibenedetto:
The Dream Doctor Mysteries (all ten books!)

Betty and Howard's Excellent Adventure

The Jane Barnaby Adventures (all three books to date!)

Mr. Smith and the Roach (coming soon!)

Finding Dori (Welcome to Romance)

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.J. DiBenedetto
• Release date: Oct 25, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310966903

Book preview

Halloween

(October 30, 2004)

I knew this was a mistake, even though it was my own idea. I suppose it’s my comeuppance for all the times I’ve teased Brian about wanting to see him in uniform. Well, I got my wish. Unfortunately, I forgot the old saying: be careful what you wish for.

My mother had a perfectly good suggestion for matching costumes for Brian and me. I should just have gone along with it. About a month ago, we decided to host a Halloween party, and—stupid me—I mentioned that I thought it would be cute if Brian and I coordinated our costumes. Mom, being Mom, had an idea right away. We could go as characters from Dad’s favorite new TV show: Navy Cops, or whatever it’s actually called.

Mom was very excited. She said that Brian could dress up as Mark Harmon and I could be the peppy, goth-looking forensic scientist. I had to take her word for all that—I’ve never actually sat down and watched an entire episode. But apparently it’s very popular. Dad certainly loves it, and clearly it’s grown on Mom. Or, maybe, it’s just Mark Harmon that’s grown on Mom, but I’m not saying that out loud.

Anyway, it seemed as good an idea as any, and Brian didn’t really have an opinion one way or the other. I would have done it, but then I had second thoughts when we sat down to try and figure out where to go to actually get the costumes. I started to feel weird about being a cop, even for just a few hours. Unpleasant memories began to push their way to the front of my brain, and—well, that was that.

A couple of days later, I was at the hospital, chatting with a patient, and she had the TV on in her room. She was watching an old rerun of I Dream of Jeannie and I had my brainstorm. Brian could dress up as Major Nelson, and I could be Jeannie.

It sounded like fun, at the time. And Brian was fine with it. But, now, looking at myself in the bedroom mirror, I realize just how terrible an idea it was.

I look ridiculous with this awful blonde wig. Barbara Eden might have been around my age when she played Jeannie, but our measurements don’t exactly match—I have too much belly and not nearly enough chest to properly wear this outfit! And, to top it off, I don’t have the faintest idea how they managed to keep her navel covered. Unless I tape these horrible harem pants to myself, I’m going to be showing my belly button to half the town—not to mention most of my coworkers and all my children’s friends.

I don’t know how long I’ve been standing in front of the mirror, growing steadily more depressed, when Brian enters the bedroom. I don’t turn; I just watch his reflection. He—oh, God!—in that uniform, all pressed and neat, fitting him so perfectly, I’m just speechless. He’s so—so—I’d say sexy, but that doesn’t even begin to cover it. The sight of him makes me completely forget how inadequate I feel in this outfit.

He stops a couple of feet from me, and I turn to look at him. If I didn’t know better, I would almost think, the way he’s staring at me, that he’s just as taken with me as I am with him.

He’s still staring, and after a moment or two, I have no choice. I have to believe it—he doesn’t care one bit that I don’t fill the costume out the way Barbara Eden did. His breathing is becoming rapid, he’s tensing up and—well, in every way, I can see exactly how he feels. He takes the two steps over to me, pulls me into his arms…

No! We can’t—we have to stop right now. I don’t know where I find the willpower to pull away from him—it’s so hard. But if I don’t—if we don’t—the party will be missing its hosts, and how would that look?

Brian steps back, and, after a couple of moments, he gives me a half-smile. I thought genies were supposed to grant wishes, not deny them. It’s my wish, too! Maybe we can… no. We have to be responsible. Right?

Right. Yes, we are, I sigh. And, I promise, you’ll get all your wishes when the party is over.

Brian almost laughs. "It is Halloween, I guess. Trick or treat. This is the trick part."

I give him a big smile in return. Maybe. But that’ll just make the treat all that much better when we get to have it later, right? I shouldn’t have said that; I head for the door before he can give me the answer we both want—and can’t have—right now.

It’s ten o’clock, and the party is going better than I could have hoped. At least, it is upstairs. I don’t know what’s happening in the basement, with Grace and her friends—a dozen fourteen and fifteen-year-old girls all in one room doesn’t really bear thinking about.

The biggest hit as far as costumes go is Janet Black. She’s here for the weekend to work on wedding plans. Thanks to Lizzie and Steffy, she’s a spectacular Bride of Frankenstein. My mother has been trying to get the kids interested in classic movies, so for the last two weeks, she’s been showing them all the really old monster movies—the original Frankenstein and The Mummy and so on.

That’s where Steffy got the idea. Thursday night, waiting for Janet at Westchester County Airport, it hit her: Aunt Janet is getting married, we should make her the Bride of Frankenstein.

She and her sister did a fantastic job of it, too. Janet was a remarkably good sport—a lot better than I probably would have been. I just hope the face paint washes off, otherwise she’s going to get some funny questions when she goes through security at the airport tomorrow afternoon.

In the meantime, though, she’s having a grand time, in the awful second-hand wedding dress that Steffy bought for her. It cost ten dollars at the thrift shop up in Beacon, just down the road from Brian’s office, and Steffy volunteered to pay for it out of her own allowance money. I love that she feels such a close connection to her godmother.

Maybe, a year from now, Janet will have a child of her own, and—I assume—I’ll be a godmother myself again. But first, we have to get her through her wedding. We got a few things done this morning, but there’s a lot more to do tomorrow before Janet flies back to Indianapolis. My mother has basically taken over almost all of Janet’s responsibilities, the same way she did for me before my wedding.

And there’s Mom now, talking to our mayor, Greg Townsend. He must be in costume, because he’s wearing a blue suit with what looks like a pillow stuffed underneath to make him look fat, and he’s got yellow gloves on. Greg was just telling me about his costume, Mom says, right on cue. It’s very clever.

It is?

He raises his arms and does a victory salute with both hands, and I notice that he looks like he’s only got four fingers. Obviously that’s part of the costume, and it does seem vaguely familiar, but I can’t think from where.

I’m the Mayor, he announces. Yes, I know that. But he means—he’s a fake mayor, from some movie or TV show. I still have no idea which one, though.

Mayor who?

His face falls, and I feel awful for ruining what he clearly thought was a great idea. Mayor Quimby, he says, as though it should be obvious. But that still doesn’t help; I don’t know who that is. I just look at him blankly, and he sighs heavily. ’The Simpsons?’ The four fingers didn’t give it away?

I’m sorry, I say. I never really liked it all that much, and with football on Sunday nights, it’s not as though I get any say in what to watch on TV anyway. It’s really good, though—don’t go by me. I never get any jokes, I say.

That’s true, Mom agrees. I don’t know where we went wrong. Straight A’s in school, smart as a whip, but no sense of humor at all. I give her a look, and she smiles innocently in return. I wonder if she’d still smile if I turned her heat off at bedtime tonight?

I don’t turn Mom and Dad’s heat off, although I am sorely tempted. I’m still staring at the master control for all the thermostats when hands reach around me, and Brian’s voice whispers into my ear, You’re falling down on the job. Don’t you owe me some wishes? I am still in costume—minus the horrible wig—so he’s right.

I turn to face him, and I grant one wish right away. I don’t know how long we’re standing there, kissing, before we both have to come up for air.

I think that counts for your first wish. You’re supposed to get three, right? I laugh. I’m sorry, by the way, I go on, shrugging. I can’t do the nose thing. I really tried, too. I practiced in front of the mirror for twenty minutes the other day, but no luck. Brian looks at me blankly. You know, like she always did in the show, when she did magic? She wiggled her nose?

Now Brian laughs. That wasn’t Jeannie. That was Samantha on ‘Bewitched.’ Jeannie didn’t wiggle her nose.

He says it as though it’s common knowledge. I’d probably be annoyed, if he weren’t still in costume himself, if he weren’t so—so—oh, God, I can’t even think, looking at him. I have to close my eyes for a moment before I can answer him. My voice is still very weak when I do. "Really? Then what did she do?"

He shrugs. "No idea. But you’re my Jeannie. I’m sure you can think of something." Oh, that’s just not fair at all! But it is true.

Yeah, I think I can, I say. And then I do. And I use up his full quota of wishes, and then some, before I’m through.

Sara isn’t sure where she is. The surroundings are unfamiliar; it’s a huge hall, with a balcony above, running almost all the way around the entire space. Red and white bunting hangs down from the balcony; whatever this place is, it’s decorated for a grand event.

All around Sara are high-backed wooden chairs—row upon row of them, all filled with men and women dressed to the nines. She’s near the back of the hall, close to a pair of huge doors. She turns, and off in the distance, seemingly miles away at the front of the hall, is a—throne?

Yes, she decides, a throne, and in it is seated an old woman wearing a crown. Despite the distance, Sara can somehow see her clearly; it’s the Queen of England, she’s certain. And now she knows where she is, and whose dream it is.

The double doors open, and there stands Janet, in a blindingly white dress, with a train behind it that must be twenty feet long. Janet steps into the hall—which Sara now knows is Buckingham Palace, or at least what Janet imagines Buckingham Palace looks like. Because, Sara recalls, Janet’s wedding will be held not just in Scotland, but in a Scottish castle. And this is obviously what comes to Janet’s mind when she thinks of a castle.

But Janet isn’t coming any farther in; she’s stopped just inside the doors. Sara watches her friend cast her gaze around the huge hall, looking for something—looking for someone. Someone who, Sara knows, won’t be here.

Who’s going to walk me down the aisle? Who’s going to give me away? Mom, where are you? I need you!

I wake up, and I feel like crying. Why? What’s wrong? The party was great, and what happened afterwards was even better.

It all comes back to me in a rush. I was dreaming. And I saw Janet. She—oh, Janet. She couldn’t go through with her wedding because there wasn’t anyone to give her away.

That’s why I was the first one she called with the news. Her mother is gone, her father was never in her life, she has no siblings. She’s got me to stand up with her at the wedding, but she wants—needs—more than that.

I tell Brian about it; Janet’s lack of family is hardly a secret. I feel for her, he says, and I know that he truly does. He was there, right along with me, when her mother died. He helped her get through it just as much as I did. Of course he feels her loss, and her pain.

I wish there was something more we could do. I’ve thought of one thing, but I’ve never even hinted at it to Janet. Brian, though, knows me—well, intimately. He knows exactly what I’m thinking, and he shakes his head sharply.

No, Sara. We can’t. If she wanted to look for her father, she’d have done it already. And whatever she found, she would have told you.

We’re both still lying in bed, and I roll over, throwing my arms around him. You’re right. How are you always right?

He kisses me quickly. It’s in the job description.

I could go right on kissing him all morning, but we have a busy day ahead. Brian has to drive up to West Point and pick up Will Harper, and I have to help Janet with more wedding planning. I very reluctantly pull away from him and head into the bathroom.

By the time I emerge, more or less ready to meet the day, I see that the planning has already begun. Mom and Janet are both drinking coffee, and there’s a stack of bridal magazines on the kitchen table.

I think that’s a perfect color, Mrs. Barnes, Janet says, pointing to an open page. Everything you’ve said sounds perfect. But, she chokes up, and takes several deep breaths before going on, there’s still one thing missing. And it’s not in any of these magazines.

Janet Black, you are every bit as thick-headed as Sara is. Mom glances over at me and then shakes her head sadly. Is it a doctor thing? Do they remove your common sense on the first day of medical school? Janet looks deeply offended, but Mom ignores her and plows on. I know perfectly well what you’re talking about, and I can’t believe you think we’d let you walk up the aisle alone.

Mom doesn’t mean…? She’s not really suggesting…?

Yes, she is. Of course she is. And of course she’s right. Janet needs a moment to process it—just like I did—and then she looks from Mom to me and then back again. Mrs. Barnes? You—you want to give me away?

Mom pats her arm gently. Well, technically, it would be Howard. Dad picks this moment to wander into the kitchen and join us. But, yes, if you’ll let him.

Of course I will! Thank you! Thank you so much! I can barely make out the last couple of words; Janet is sobbing by the time she gets to them, and I’m almost ready to cry myself.

Maybe it is a medical school thing. Maybe they really do remove our common sense. Because I would never have thought of it, either, even though it’s the perfect—and obvious—answer.

I guess Janet’s wedding is going to be a real family affair, isn’t it?

A Very Long Engagement

(March 27-28, 2005)

As usual whenever we host a big—or even medium-sized—dinner, everyone is in the living room. There are only fifteen of us for Easter dinner: Brian and me and the kids; my parents; Bob and Susan and their two girls; and Will Harper and his girlfriend, Victoria.

I lied to her to get her here, and—I think—she believed me. I told her it was a surprise for Will when I called her and offered to pay for her train ticket down from Boston. She was thrilled, but she found out quickly enough that it wasn’t a surprise at all.

I hope Will isn’t planning on going into any part of the Army that involves subterfuge or deception, because he just doesn’t have it in him. One look at his face, and Victoria knew he was expecting her.

I guess I’m not giving him enough credit. He asked me to get her here for a very particular reason, and he has managed to keep that secret. And I haven’t told anyone, not even Brian. It is Will’s secret, after all. But all is about to be revealed.

Brian and I make the rounds, collecting dishes, and he follows me into the kitchen. He asks me, Why is Will so nervous?

I’ve kept the secret for three weeks—I can be quiet for five more minutes. No idea, I say, shrugging. Here, I’ll take those, he hands the dishes to me, one at a time, and I fit them all in the dishwasher. It’s new, along with the stove and the refrigerator. We replaced most of the appliances in the kitchen back in the fall. This summer, we’re going to—finally!—expand the whole kitchen. At least, that’s the plan now.

I finish loading the dishwasher and we head back into the living room. Will glances up at me, and Brian was absolutely right. He’s fidgeting, which I don’t think I’ve ever seen him do before. I don’t blame him, though—this is a huge step. And he’s so young.

But, then again, Brian was even younger than Will is now, back in June of 1990. He was pretty nervous at the time, too—I’m surprised he hasn’t figured it out yet.

It’s going to happen right now. Will stands up, clears his throat. Doctor, he calls out to me, if it’s all right with you, there’s something I want to do before you bring out dessert. Despite his obvious nerves, his voice is strong and clear.

Absolutely, Will. Go for it, I say.

He does. He goes down on one knee, right in front of his girlfriend. She gasps, her bright blue eyes going very wide. Will fishes around in his pocket and pulls out a small box.

I’m sorry your family isn’t here for this, or my mother. But Dr. Alderson and Mr. Alderson and everyone else here—they’ve made me part of their family, and I’m glad they’re all here to see this. I feel the tears wanting to come, but I fight them back. I also—somehow—manage to suppress a laugh at his formality. Even while he’s telling us that he thinks of us as his family now, he still calls me Dr. Alderson.

Victoria nods her approval. My mother is smiling broadly, Lizzie claps her hands in excitement, Brian sighs and shakes his head at me, even while he’s grinning. And Grace—she covers her mouth with one hand, while the other one balls itself into a fist. Her face freezes in something like a smile, but I know my daughter—she’s anything but happy for Will and Victoria. I—I don’t understand. She’s had three boyfriends just since Christmas. She hasn’t said a word or shown any sign about her old crush on Will.

Will doesn’t notice any of that. The only thing he sees—the only thing in his entire world—is Victoria. I know exactly how Will feels, and, when I glance over at Brian again, I can see that he does, too.

Victoria Fenmark, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife? He opens the box as he says it, and the light catches the diamond inside. It’s not big—but it is bigger than the ring he was planning to buy on his own, before I gave him a thousand dollars to help out. He didn’t ask, and he refused several times when I offered, before I finally convinced him by agreeing to let him pay me back over time.

What he doesn’t know—who am I kidding, of course he does—is that the money he pays me back is just going to go towards his graduation gift two years from now.

He takes the ring out of the box, and Victoria stretches out her hand. Of course I will! Yes, yes, yes! He slips the ring on her finger, and she stands up from the sofa, grabs his hands in hers and pulls him up. And then, to applause from everyone—even Grace, although she’s not looking at them, and she’s biting her lip now—they kiss.

I’m so happy for Will and Victoria. They make such a pretty couple, too. Will is—almost—as handsome as Brian, while Victoria is just beautiful. She’s my height, give or take, but she’s got a better—and curvier—figure than I have, or ever had. And I’d kill to have hair half as nice as hers.

I have to turn away and bite my own lip to keep from laughing. I just realized that the exact same thoughts, except in reverse, are probably going through Brian’s head. I’m sure he’s comparing himself unfavorably to Will, and also thinking that Victoria is nearly as pretty as I am—even though I’m almost twice her age.

With that in my mind, I go back to the kitchen to bring out dessert. I ordered a cake—chocolate with Congratulations Will and Victoria!—from Jackie Miller’s bakery. She’s expensive, but totally worth it.

There’s more applause when I carry the cake into the living room, and then, while it’s devoured, Will and Victoria are bombarded with questions. How long was he planning this? When is the wedding going to be? Did Victoria have any idea it was going to happen? Finally, Lizzie asks, Can I be in the wedding? If you have it when you graduate, I’ll be almost fifteen. And I’m already a bridesmaid in Janet’s wedding, so I’ll have experience. She’s not the only one. Grace—who’s looking away now, and shaking—is going to be a bridesmaid for Janet, too.

Before Will or Victoria can answer, I go to Grace, put an arm around her. Grace, honey, you don’t look like you’re feeling well. Come with me, I say, and I lead her out of the living room, towards the basement. She doesn’t resist.

I pull the door closed behind me as we go down the stairs. She goes to her bed and sits down heavily. I sit next to her, and I pull her close. But I don’t say anything at first, as much as I want to. For a while, neither of us speaks. She just sits there, trying to force herself not to show what she’s feeling, and I sit next to her, hoping that she can at least feel my love for her.

I think—hope—it’s working. After a couple of minutes, she says, in a weak voice, I’m fine, Mom. I—maybe I ate too fast or something. Upset stomach, you know. But it’s gone now. I’m fine.

There are a hundred things I want to say, but I doubt she’d hear any of them. I wouldn’t have, when I was fifteen. Instead, I get up, go over to her bathroom and bring her a glass of water. Here, drink this, and then, I don’t know, maybe you can lie down for a few minutes? What do you think?

She drinks the water and I take the glass back. She’s got a questioning look on her face, but she doesn’t say anything. It’s OK, Grace. Just lie down for a little while, and when your stomach is feeling settled, come on back upstairs.

Yeah, she says, finally. That makes sense, right? I don’t want to make myself sick. I’ll just lie here, but I’ll be up soon. OK, Mom? I lean down and kiss her forehead.

Yes, Grace. You come on up when you’re ready. I reach out and take her hand, squeezing it, before I