Dreaming Beauty

By Eilis Flynn

Kara Corbett is in a coma, the victim of a gangland shooting, in protective custody. He has to protect her, and bring her would-be killer to justice. Then Will meets her...in his dreams. Or are they hers? As attempts on her life escalate despite his best efforts to keep her safe, he must find out the circumstances around the shooting and what exactly Kara saw. And to do so, he finds himself communicating with her in ways he never thought possible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eilis Flynn
• Release date: Jan 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370031504

Eilis Flynn

Elizabeth M.S. (Eilis to her friends) Flynn has spent a large share of her life working on Wall Street or in a Wall Street-related firm, so why should she write fiction that’s any more based in our world? She spends her days aware that there is a reality beyond what we can see and tells stories about it. She lives in verdant Washington state with her equally fantastical husband. Her books can be found here, and check out emsflynn.com, at Flynn Books Words & Ideas .

Book preview

Dreaming Beauty

by Eilis Flynn

She was a dreaming beauty, but she couldn’t remember who she was

DREAMING BEAUTY

By Eilis Flynn

Flynn Books Words & Ideas

Copyright 2016 Eilis Flynn

Cover design by Jacquie Rogers

Photo by Shutterstock

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 9781370031504

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission, except for excerpts used in reviews of this story.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, either living or dead, is purely coincidental.

http://www.eilisflynn.com

For Mike

Chapter 1

Dark, then light

Light, then dark

Where was she? She didn’t know

She opened her eyes and looked around

Wherever she was, she was floating

She looked down and saw herself.

***

The acrid odor of cleaning solution made his eyes water before he adjusted. Agnes Mittleford, please, he said again to the harried-looking nurse at the on-duty station, but she was on the phone, so she gestured for him to wait. Again.

He was willing to wait. His grandmother was in her late eighties, and if she needed her gall bladder out, he was going to visit her during her stay, no matter what his opinion of hospitals. He loved his grandmother and besides, she was a cool old bird. And she would be the first to tell him so.

Agnes Mittleford, he repeated after the nurse hung up the phone. She’s a little old lady with blue hair.

To his surprise, the nurse snorted. She didn’t seem impressed with his description of his grandmother. Name me one without.

He rubbed his jaw. At least she had blue hair the last time I saw her. Had the Mohawk grown in by now?

The nurse turned to her computer screen and tapped a key. One second. Oh, Aggie, she said after a moment, her face brightening. You should have said so. Room 207.

He thanked her and started off in the direction she pointed to, but not before muttering, "But I did say so."

The rooms he passed were saturated with an uneasy silence, with only the sound of a ventilator in the background of a few. But then he heard the murmur of familiar voices, so he followed it, eager to see the sources.

Two oversized men in black suits stood on either side of the door to Aggie’s room, and the one on the right stepped in front of him.

Frowning, Will looked at them. They looked back. Or he assumed they were. He couldn’t tell, considering they were both wearing dark reflective sunglasses that masked their eyes and their expressions. Is there a problem? he asked.

The one on the right didn’t say a word. And you are? the one on the left said.

He frowned. I’m William Malory, and that’s my grandmother in there. Why are you standing outside her room?

The other one finally spoke. Do you have ID?

What did she do this time? I assume you’re cops, Will said as he produced his driver’s license. He’d worked with enough of them—they had to be cops. Law enforcement of some kind, at least. Federal, he would have said, but why would the feds be guarding Aggie? And why wouldn’t he have been told?

He didn’t get an answer. The one with his license scrutinized it before handing it back. Sorry, sir, we have orders, the man said, stepping aside.

Will frowned as he stepped past the men. From whom? he asked, but he didn’t get an answer about that, either. What was going on?

The air in the room felt a little too cool, but that didn’t matter, not when he caught sight of the wizened old woman in the bed, her short wispy hair a nauseating clash of silver and dulled chemical blue. He grinned. Aggie, I can always tell where you are. All I have to do is follow your voice. Hey, Gizmo.

His younger brother was sitting on a straight chair next to her, a dozen oversized black & white photographs spread out on the bedcover. Hey, big brother, Greg said, flashing his usual sunny grin. Did you have to get past those two guys too? I figured Aggie had hired bouncers or something.

They don’t look like bouncers, Aggie said, squinting as she looked past her older grandson. But they are polite, whoever they are. I’m calling them Lewis and Clark. What do you think?

Greg gathered up the photos. If those were their names, which I kind of doubt, I’m sure they wouldn’t care. Yeah, Aggie had to vouch for me when I got here. Who are they, anyway?

I’ll find out. Now, Aggie, Will said, changing the topic, I don’t know if anyone’s mentioned it, but you’re loud. That’s how I found you.

Agnes Mittleford laughed, her bright blue eyes twinkling. I don’t see any sense in being quiet at my age, sweetie, she answered, gesturing for him to come closer. The Mohawk had indeed grown out, leaving a white-and-blue-tipped mess of spiked hair sticking straight out of her venerable head. It was still better than the time she tried dreadlocks. That hadn’t ended well. It’s about time you got here.

Will apologized as he kissed her. I had to pick up flowers. At least Gizmo was here to entertain you, he said. How do you feel?

As though I were being prepared to have an organ ripped out of me, even though it is a relatively minor one. How’s your mother? Is she speaking to me yet?

Will Malory paused. She couldn’t be here, but she did send her regards and said she’d see you when you got home.

His grandmother—his mother’s mother, though two women could not have been more different—blew a Bronx cheer at that. You’ve got to learn to lie, dear, she informed him. Now, it’s all right for me, because I know your mother. But you’ve got to learn for all those other people you’re going to lie to in your life. And definitely in your profession. I don’t know how you missed that in law school.

I skipped class that day.

I don’t know why you bother, Will, Greg remarked. You’re still trying to smooth over a disagreement that one of the parties isn’t acknowledging.

Shouldn’t we be lowering our voices? Will asked, wondering why he hadn’t learned to avoid potentially explosive topics as well as his younger sister had. Of course, Alison also had distance on her side, since she was lived across the country. She was clearly the smart one in the family. Won’t we wake up your roommate? Why do you have a roommate, anyway? Don’t you usually get a private room?

At that, Will’s grandmother stopped twiddling her thumbs and glanced over at the tall white curtains blocking off the far corner of the room. She frowned. The poor girl’s in a coma. So sad. The orderlies only rolled her in here a few hours ago, something about a room shortage. I don’t mind.

That’s okay, Gram, Will said, glancing at the barrier separating his grandmother from her roommate. Just let me know if you want her out.

She shook her head. She’s certainly not chatty. They say she’s been comatose for a while. Now, those flowers. She eyed his armload of daffodils. Are those for me?

Will Malory knew what his grandmother was going to suggest. Excuse me, he said to the perky hospital volunteer who had popped in after a few seconds of conferring with the security at the door. The vase she had in her hand was not, he was thankful to see, a bedpan, which had been his grandmother’s vessel of choice for his flowers the last time she had been in the hospital and he had dropped by. His mother would have been horrified, as she was about so many things.

Would it be possible to split these and give some to the young lady next door? Will gestured to the curtained divider. I know she’s not going to know about it, but…

The aide, a tall, cheery-looking young blonde with little pink butterfly clips in her hair that matched her pink-striped apron, nodded, her ponytail bouncing along. I sure can! That’s awfully nice of you, she chirped. She took the flowers from him.

Will probably had shoes older than she was. She may sense the flowers are there, for all we know, he told her. And can you turn up the heat? It’s cool in here.

The aide made a little pout of regret. I sure can’t. But I can ask one of the nurses for another blanket, she offered.

Thank you, Jennifer, Aggie said, beaming. These are my grandsons, William and Gregory. Jennifer’s been very helpful, she informed them. And she just graduated from college next week. What was your major again, dear?

Will stifled a smile. Aggie was doing everything except holding up a sign: Acceptable! Check her teeth! Give me great-grandchildren! A little young for either Greg or him, Will wanted to tell her. But at least the girl seemed to entertain his grandmother.

Eighteenth-century French Romanticism, with a minor in ancient Greek, Jennifer said, and that was the clincher.

You and Aggie must have long conversations. She’s always loved those ancient Greeks. Behind Jennifer, Will’s brother was rolling his eyes. Greg, of all people, knew how much their grandmother loved long, esoteric, intellectual conversations about nothing relevant.

Will couldn’t imagine what the conversations between his mother and grandmother must have been like. His mother, God love her, was the least imaginative person he knew. Long, esoteric conversations were anathema to Andrea, because there was no point to them. When Will and his brother and sister were kids, their grandmother was the one who slipped them comic books and toys, because Andrea thought such things were a waste of time. If it hadn’t been for Aggie, they wouldn’t have had much of a childhood at all.

Predictably, Jennifer giggled. Oh, your grandmother’s been wonderful, she cried. Outside of my classes, I never have a chance to talk about Romanticism. Your grandmother lets me just go on and on about it.

I’ll bet, Will murmured, keeping a straight face.

Aggie knew him too well, however, because she glared at him before she turned back to the young woman, who had finished up with her flower arrangement. Thank you, Jennifer, she said, smiling. My grandson will make sure my roommate gets her half. Now, Will. What have you been doing?

He wasn’t going to tell her the truth—that he prosecuted the scum of the state and on occasion it amazed him there seemed to be more every day—so he made the usual small talk. He even made small talk with his brother, though he spoke to Gizmo at least once a week.

And you both call your mother to make sure she’s all right, don’t you? the elderly woman prompted.

I’m sure we’d be informed if something happened to either one of them, Aggie, Will said.

That’s not what I asked. She misses you, you know.

They try to ignore our existence, Ags, Greg burst out. We have our lives and they have theirs.

Even as Gizmo said it, Will winced. This wasn’t the time to talk about their family problems. When’s the operation, Aggie? he said quickly, warning off his younger brother with a glance.

Day after tomorrow. Tomorrow’s going to be tests and more tests.

Considering her age, that didn’t surprise him. What time?

His grandmother, however, was not to be deterred. Early. Now, promise me you’ll go see your mother after you leave here. She’d love to see you, I know. Promise me, boys.

Will sighed. Yes, Aggie. We will.

She smiled, the creases splintering her face into a thousand slivers. She had been a beautiful woman when she was young. His parents had had photographs of her covering the walls, from her childhood, through all her travels, all the way to the last time Aggie and his mother had spoken. Five years ago. After that, the photos had come down.

And what about you, Gizmo? Aggie asked, plucking at the blanket covering her. Are you going with your brother?

Yes, Gram, Greg said, sighing. Just a quick visit.

Agnes Mittleford smiled. I’m proud of you boys.

Thank you, Aggie. I think it’s time for us to get going, Will said, catching the eye of the nurse who came in, looking much more forbidding than cheery Jennifer. We’ll be here when you wake up after surgery.

Good. I’m sure you’ll have lots to report by then, Agnes said with a smile. Don’t forget to deliver those flowers to the young lady in the other bed.

Will hesitated. Aggie, I don’t know. I’d feel uncomfortable—

His grandmother fixed him with a stare. You’d say ‘No’ to your elderly, ailing grandmother? What sort of grandson are you? Besides, I have to talk to your brother for a minute.

Will groaned, shaking his head. Fine. I’ll be right back.

Slowly, with a discomfort that mystified him—the back of his neck crawled, and there was no explanation for it—Will eased past the curtain that separated Agnes Mittleford from her roommate.

This section of the room was silent, except for the machines that kept this patient alive. Two IVs hung from the pole, a respirator covered her nose and mouth, and a heart monitor sat nearby. Fighting his squeamishness, Will finally focused on the form in the bed.

Whoever she was, this woman was young, in her late twenties. She must have been pretty when she was awake. No, he corrected himself. She had to be a knockout. Her hair was spread across the pillow, in shades of streaking blond and light brown, her skin sallow right now. Were her eyes a warm brown, mischievous in a joke told? Or were they blue, reflecting the summer sky? He could check the records, but that was cheating. He wanted to see it for himself. Her eyes were half-shuttered, but they didn’t move, making the temptation to look more closely all the stronger.

Hello, he said softly. I’m Will Malory. My grandmother’s your roommate, and she said I should introduce myself. He paused, not sure what else he should say to someone who, in all likelihood, did not, could not, hear him.

Feeling foolish but doing it anyway, he continued. I love my grandmother and I worry about her, so I’d be obliged if you look out for her, he said. Though I don’t know if you can. I…I hope to meet you and be able to talk to you someday, when you open your eyes and you know me and we can talk. He glanced at her chart. Ms. Corbett.

Karalinda Elizabeth Corbett didn’t flinch, didn’t sigh, barely breathed, and certainly didn’t react to anything that Will said, but nonetheless, he felt better. On impulse, he reached out for her hand. It was limp and cool, but at least he could feel the beat of her pulse, good and strong. It’s good to meet you, Kara, he said, feeling a little more comfortable. And thank you for looking out for Aggie. The stories I could tell you about her when we were growing up, well, they’d amaze you. Will paused again, searching for something else to say. I hope you like daffodils and roses, because they’re my grandmother’s favorite flowers. He added, I’ll bring some just for you if you like them, instead of having to share.

Did Kara Corbett have a family? But there was no sign of a visitor. And those men outside—why were they there? Did they have something to do with Aggie suddenly having a semi-private room instead of her usual private one?

I should get back to my grandmother, Will said abruptly. She should be done talking to my brother, and I’m going to assume he’s ashamed of whatever he’s being scolded about. It was nice meeting you, Kara, he said, standing up. I’ll drop by again tomorrow when I come to see Aggie. After all, I have to check out who’s hanging around my grandmother.

Will slipped past the divider again, and he was immeasurably cheered. The other side of the room, the one with his grandmother, was brighter, it had laughter, it had life. Even the flowers he had brought, half of which were now sitting on Kara’s bedside table, looked more vibrant next to his grandmother.

I think she has family, Aggie said when Will asked. She hasn’t been here long, that’s all. I’m sure they’re on their way.

Will gestured toward the two men standing right outside. Any possibility they’re family?

Unless she has male relatives who don’t talk, dress in dark suits and wait outside, I don’t think so. I have no idea what’s going on. There were more earlier, and I think they’re all taking turns.

No, they weren’t family. That sounded like—Is she under protective custody? Will asked. Never mind. I’ll find out.

Of course you will. Say hello to your mother and that man for me.

Will and Greg stood up, each giving Aggie a kiss on the cheek in turn. I’ll see you boys tomorrow, she said, and her eyes were shining a little too much for Will’s comfort. I’ll be fine. Good night.

Will and Greg didn’t say anything until they were standing at the elevator banks.

Are you going straight to the house, or are you going to make me go into the lions’ den alone? Will asked.

Gizmo winced. I didn’t think you were serious about going. Geez, I don’t know why we were talking about them at all.

We didn’t bring them up. Aggie did. And you know there’s no way to get her off the subject of Mom when she wants to talk about her and Larry.

When Aggie starts in about them, most of the time I just try to think about my taxes or Congress or something, Greg said.

I’m going to go visit Mom and her husband. And you’re going with me.

Fine, Greg said, groaning. So what was all that about Aggie’s roommate?

Right then, the elevator doors opened, revealing and disgorging a few people, one of whom was a tense-looking man in dark sunglasses and a black suit. Right then, Will felt an odd breeze, smelled a hint of lavender.

He looked around. What was that? His eye was drawn toward the man in black walking down the hallway. Lavender—? That couldn’t be.

Are you coming? Greg said, stepping into the elevator.

Did you smell that? Will asked as the doors closed. And that breeze?

It’s a little cold out there, if that’s what you mean. And I smelled the aftershave on that guy. What about it? So how are you doing?

Fine. I refinanced my condo, Will added. And you?

I’m not wanted by the police for questioning, so that’s always a positive sign.

Will shot him a glance as the elevator doors opened onto the parking level. His younger brother had inherited their grandmother’s sense of humor, but just in case… Why would they want to talk to you?

Gizmo shrugged. If I knew, I wouldn’t have to worry.

You don’t have anything to worry about—right?

’Course not, bro. I’ll meet you at the house, Greg said, veering off toward his own car.

Will watched him for a second. It was bad enough he had to worry about his grandmother. He didn’t want to worry about his little brother, too.

Sides had been drawn five years ago. When his mother remarried after a decade of widowhood, no one in the family had liked her choice, Lawrence Gunderson. True, both families had known the other for years, generations, even, but Larry was the weakest link of a strong chain of Gundersons.

Aggie’s objections had been loud and vociferous, and her daughter Andrea, never one to let anything roll off her back, took it to heart—and stopped talking to her mother. And when Will and his brother made the mistake of trying to broker a peace, their mother had froze them out as well for a while.

Their sister Alison fared a little better. Thanks to a newly broken leg, she had been unable to come to the wedding—Will could only assume it had been an accident, but he had his suspicions—and thus spared of her mother’s wrath. Whatever was going on in Andrea and Larry’s life, he usually found out through Ali.

The situation between them had been strained since. True, Will and Gizmo were invited to holiday dinners, and they even went, but any mention of Aggie meant they were invited to leave.

Their grandmother, meanwhile, kept busy, and all of her grandchildren called at least once a week. But Will knew she missed her daughter.

Greg’s car was nowhere to be seen when Will pulled up into the driveway of his boyhood home—maybe his younger brother was taking the scenic route around the city to get here, trying to delay the inevitable.

For a moment, Will sat in his car, looking around before he got out. His stomach was roiling.

Larry had redone the exterior of the house, a grand residence, a three-story modified Gothic Revival with two wings. Whereas it had been a subtle, earthy sage before, now it was a garish shade of lime, trimmed with an eye-melting teal and topped with a delicate chemical green border on the top level. Not only that, the tall fence surrounding the property, originally a traditional red brick, was now painted a vivid emerald. Will wondered if Larry’s next project was going to be to paint leprechauns on the fence. It was a surprise the neighbors hadn’t