In a Dream: Reflection, #1

By Ava Lynn Wood

Emma Potter has led a tragic life, witnessing her parents' murder at the tender age of five then being swept away to the Texas Hill Country to live with her grandparents. By the time she enters college, her uncle Peter is the only relative she has left and, while he's a bit unconventional, she treasures the familial bond they have.

But that familial bond is tragically ripped away when her uncle is killed in the night and Emma mysteriously witnesses the whole thing in a dream. While she's trying to sort reality from her nightmares, she finds solace in the arms of Aiden, her unexpected knight in shining armor. But Aiden has secrets of his own.

With Emma’s tendency to put up walls and keep secrets, she is hesitant to trust. Yet Aiden persists, even when Emma continually pulls away. She’s drawn to him; to his charm, his compassion, his smile, but she’s scared. She fears that falling for Aiden will only result in heartbreak once again.

While Emma fights to find her uncle’s murderer and decode the dreams that have become a nightly nuisance in her life, she must decide if she can accept the love she spent years trying to avoid, or if she’s willing to throw it all away to hide what she envisioned In A Dream.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ava Lynn Wood
• Release date: Sep 28, 2017
• ISBN: 9781976078163

Book preview

Prologue

Staring through her dance academy window with her hands pressed firmly against the chilled glass, Emma waited impatiently for her parents to pick her up from her lesson. Tall, brick city buildings surrounding her nearly touched the sky. Cars passed, quickly heading to their next destination, leaving gray vapor trails in their wake.

Emma peeked back at the clock on the wall in the quaint lobby, hoping her mother would arrive soon. Three months earlier, her mother taught her to tell time. Big hand on the 2. Little hand on the 6. It’s 6:10 PM. She was the only kid in her kindergarten class who could tell time. Her jet-black braid swung over her shoulder as she twirled in her tutu, thinking of how proud her mommy was when she finally told her the correct time. Her mommy usually arrived around this time so she turned her attention back to the glass, her face smashed against the windowpane. Her mommy always had trouble finding a parking spot.

I see them, Ms. Adams, Emma called to her instructor while running out the front door. Ms. Adams called after her, turning to get her coat, but Emma was already through the door, hurtling toward her parents. What happened next, as Emma jumped the cracks of the city sidewalk, was beyond anything her innocent young mind could comprehend. Mommy! she screamed, watching her parents fall to the ground.

Two figures in black hooded sweatshirts fled the scene after firing bullets into each of her parents. One shot hit her father in the head, sending him crashing to the ground next to a small puddle left from the previous night’s rain. The other bullet hit Emma’s mother in her upper back, causing her mother to gasp for air.

Ms. Adams heard the gunshots and ran to the window with Emma’s coat tucked in her hand. She saw Emma’s parents lying on the ground and two hooded forms fleeing the scene, rounding the corner and disappearing from view. Rushing outside, Ms. Adams threw her jacket over Emma’s shoulders as Emma clutched her mother. Momentarily, Ms. Adams turned her attention to Emma’s father lying stone-cold still while blood poured from his head and mingled with the water on the sidewalk. Grabbing his wrist, she checked for a pulse, but felt nothing.

Emma looked on terrified, hanging on to her mother. Rolling her over, Emma watched as her mother gasped for air, fear marring her face. Mommy, get up! Emma tugged frantically on her mother’s limp arm.

Emma … I … love … you. Each word was a staccato as it grew harder to breathe. Go … inside.

No, Mommy. Not without you. Tears welled up in Emma’s eyes as she pulled harder on her mother’s hand.

I’m … always … with … you, she sputtered. Go. With those words, her mother could hold on no longer. Her eyes rolled back in her head and closed as she breathed her last breath.

Ms. Adams pulled Emma forcefully while she clung to her mother’s motionless body. Emma’s hands ripped free from her mother as Ms. Adams carried her quivering small body inside to wait for the police, Emma softly crying, Mommy, all the way.

Chapter One

I could hear the sound of children playing somewhere outside my bedroom window, filling the streets with noise. The last day of summer vacation was upon us, but I couldn’t care less. Rolling over in my four-poster bed, I peeked out the window cursing the stifling morning sun that beat down on my face.

I’d woken from a dreamless sleep, thankful that my haunting nightmares hadn’t visited me during my last night in my grandmother’s home. Thanks to my uncle, the house was on the market and I was being tossed out on my ass. Technically, I’d planned to move long before his decision, but that didn’t mean I wanted to completely lose the one place I really remembered calling home. I still couldn’t believe my uncle was giving it all up.

I can’t afford the mortgage payments anymore, Emma, and with you moving to College Station, it’s just wasteful for me to keep it.

Uncle Peter’s words festered in the back of my mind as I sat up in bed. Pulling my knees against my chest, I leaned my head against them and wished I could’ve changed his mind.

Emma, are you up? My friend, Tosha’s, voice called from the hall.

Snatching an elastic band from the nightstand, I pulled my hair in a rough ponytail and climbed from my bed, answering, Yeah, I’m up. I had just removed my grandmother’s chenille robe from the closet door when Tosha stuck her head inside my room.

Mark’s on the phone. He was wondering when we’re leaving. Her wavy blonde curls fell over her shoulders as she leaned in, one hand covering the receiver of her cell.

I still haven’t heard from my uncle. I couldn’t help the groan that fell from my lips. Peter’s supposed to be here around noon with his truck, but he didn’t return my call yesterday so who knows.

Tosha rolled her eyes, mumbling, Figures, before insisting, Call him again. Letting go of the receiver, I heard her gabbing to her ex-boyfriend, Mark, as she closed my bedroom door.

Apprehensive about this move, I plopped back down onto my bed. I was troubled by the idea of moving into Mark’s house, even after Tosha’s assurance that they were just friends. I’d been on the receiving end of Tosha’s jealous tendencies one too many times and if Mark and Tosha were to start up a relationship again, I’d be out on my own in a hurry.

Not only was I nervous about moving in with Mark, but my heart was aching as I realized how much I was leaving behind when I walked away. This was my grandmother’s home. This was where I spent most of my childhood. I still didn’t know how I was going to walk away and never look back.

When my grandmother’s sweet gardenia perfume enveloped me, tears streaked down my cheeks. Instantly, I felt her all around me. She always had her little ways of reminding me she was still here.

In the six years since my grandma, Bernadette, passed, I’d worked hard, trying my best to make her proud. She may not physically be with me, but I knew she was watching me as I worked tirelessly to be better. Even with my grandma’s phantom visits, the pain of losing the only mother figure I could really remember stung my heart.

Wrapping my grandma’s robe tighter around me, I realized I had to stop stalling and get my day going. Crawling from the bed, I brushed the tears from my cheeks and left my room. The moment I entered the hall, Tosha’s off-key singing echoed to my ears, accompanied by the sound of sizzling and popping. My feet carried me forward toward the aroma of bacon and coffee that wafted through the house.

As I rounded the kitchen wall, I muttered, Isn’t it too early to be singing?

Tosha was swaying her hips in her cuff shorts and a layered striped tank top, unaware that I’d entered the kitchen, thanks to the earbuds blasting music into her ears.

Tosha, I yelled, stepping up beside her.

What? She yelled, finally pulling one of the buds out.

It’s too damn early for your singing, I ribbed, reaching for a paper coffee cup.

It’s after ten, she argued. I started singing at eight. She gave me the prissiest look, wagging her eyebrows at me.

You’re just lucky you slept through it, Kara whined, stumbling through the backdoor.

Kara and I weren’t that close, but we’d come to an understanding during our last two years at Baylor University. Our friendship was unconventional, depending on each other only when absolutely necessary, but we kept our distance when it wasn’t. It worked for me. After all, I had issues with lowering my walls and letting people in. Witnessing your parents’ murder at a young age will do that to anyone.

When I gave Kara a playful wink, I noticed Tosha had slipped her earbuds back in and was now humming in what she must have assumed was a quiet tone. Unfortunately, her off key humming was much louder than Kara or I could stand.

Hoping to distract Tosha, I pulled the bud from her ear and asked, What time did you tell Mark we’d be leaving? I knew she wouldn’t have sugarcoated anything for my uncle’s benefit.

I turned to the coffee pot and began filling my mug when she answered, I just said we’d be there when we got there. She seemed perturbed.

Everything okay? I asked as I dropped two scoops of sugar and a rather generous splash of milk into my cup.

I’m just a little nervous about this move, she admitted as her spatula fell to the floor. After cursing under her breath, she picked it up and washed it. I don’t know how I’ll react when Mark brings his girlfriend over. I mean, what if I don’t like her?

This had been the topic of discussion a few times before, which only added to my anxiety about the move. Clearly, she still had feelings for Mark, but she tried to deny them at every turn.

A few months back, my dream job opened up in College Station and I put in my application, certain I didn’t stand a chance. But when I got the call that the job was mine, I welcomed the idea of a change of scenery. It wasn’t long after, Tosha informed me she’d be attending graduate school at Texas A&M and moving in with Mark. After clearing it with him, she invited me to stay in one of the guest rooms while I figured everything out.

At the time, the idea sounded better than living in a giant complex full of rowdy college kids all on my own. Now though, it was a little daunting, but I was out of options and out of time.

You’ll be fine, Tosha, I reassured. "Just remember how important your friendship is to you."

I’ve been telling her that, Kara muttered, picking at her nails as she sat at the kitchen table.

You two are just the epitome of reason, she teased, waving the spatula through the air.

Someone has to be, Kara joked back.

Ha ha. Very funny. Tosha smirked at each of us as she carried the scrambled eggs to the table and began dishing them out onto our waiting plates.

As they joked back and forth, I couldn’t find much humor in my predicament. My eyes were trained on the table, glimpsing the water rings that were left behind through the years. That table held so many memories of afternoons struggling with my homework or morning breakfasts before school. Recalling all the times I’d sat at the table with my grandma, I couldn’t even stomach a single bite.

Emma, please eat, Tosha urged. She’d watched me mope about for the past few days as we packed up the last of my things.

This is all so surreal. I was still distraught over my uncle selling the house.

Em, I know you feel like you’re giving up on your grandma, but she’s going with you, no matter where you end up. These four walls around you are just a physical tie you feel to her, but her love is in here. She placed her hand over my heart, attempting a reassuring smile.

Tosha was right, but it didn’t make the move any easier. Everywhere I looked in this house, another memory of my grandma hid, and I couldn’t help but feel like as long as I was here, in some way, maybe she still lived on. Once I was gone, my grandma might cease to exist.

Pushing that thought from my mind, I shoveled a bit of eggs onto my fork and took a bite. If eating would placate my friends, I’d eat as much of the meal as I could before my uncle arrived.

I’d been watching the clock, waiting for my uncle to arrive. He was over an hour late and still hadn’t shown, so I’d busied myself going over each room, checking for things I might’ve overlooked. I’d made my way to the living room with one of my grandmother’s shawls I’d somehow missed and heard Tosha yelling from the front porch.

Where have you been? You were supposed to be here over an hour ago.

Peeking outside, I saw her barreling down the steps as she laid into my Uncle Peter. Do you have any idea how hard this has been on Emma? Her finger was pressed into his chest. Do you even care?

Grabbing a trash bag that was waiting to be taken out, I passed through the screen door and called from the porch, I thought I heard talking, trying to draw Tosha’s somewhat misplaced anger away from my uncle.

Tosha quickly pulled her finger from my uncle’s chest then spun on her heel, marching back up the sidewalk and storming into the house.

Hey, kiddo, my uncle muttered as soon as Tosha was inside. Sorry I’m late.

Oh, don’t worry about it. She’s just antsy about the move. My uncle probably deserved her anger, but I hated confrontation, so I lied on her behalf.

As I walked down the porch steps with the bag of trash in hand, I noticed a brand new black Honda Ridgeline in the driveway and couldn’t help but wonder how much he’d paid for it, since he couldn’t afford a mortgage. You got a new truck? I queried, trying to keep my voice even so that he didn’t notice my disappointment.

Oh, uh, yeah, he stammered. I was having problems with that old Chevy junker of mine so I picked up the Ridgeline yesterday. What do you think?

What did I think? It’s … nice, I guess. I contemplated how nice, knowing my uncle would spring for all the bells and whistles, sparing no expense for a good sound system or GPS. I marched right past him, depositing the trash with the heaping pile already waiting at the curb then turned back for the house, leaving my uncle in my wake.

When I’d reached the front door, I opened the screen and looked back at him still frozen on the sidewalk, staring out at the street. You planning on standing out here all afternoon? I forced a smile, trying to feign humor even though I felt like throat-punching him.

I’m coming, he answered, rubbing sweat from his forehead as he trudged up the walk.

When we were both in the living room, I pointed out a few boxes that needed to be loaded into the truck. Since my uncle arrived so late, Kara, Tosha and I had already handled the brunt of the work, loading what furniture I was taking onto the truck.

I’d just told my uncle about a couple of boxes that he’d need to grab from my bedroom when he said, It looks so empty.

Hmm, I grumbled, not really caring about his musings. He should’ve thought about that before he put the place up for sale. As I led him into my room, I pointed out the heavier of the two boxes that needed to be loaded and took the lighter for myself.

I’d just stepped outside the kitchen door when I heard my uncle ask, So what are you planning on doing with all this junk?

My blood boiled. I couldn’t believe his nerve. "Look Uncle Peter, I realize you aren’t interested in all this junk, but it has value to me. After I set the box on the moving truck, I brushed my hair back, adding, These were Grandma’s things and I’m not about to just throw them all away."

I’d just climbed inside the truck to stack my box with the others when my uncle stated, It’s not that I don’t care, Emma. It’s just … these are just things. Don’t you get it? He was looking up at me from the ground, waiting for me to say something, but I was floored.

After spending so many summers together, I thought he knew me better. Apparently, I thought wrong.

They’re not just things to me. I was staring down at him, refusing to move an inch closer. They’re all I have left of my family. Falling against the moving van wall, I closed my eyes trying to imagine my parents’ faces. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me just to remember what my parents look like?

Emma, my uncle started to interrupt, but I ran right over him.

If it weren’t for the few pictures Grandma had of my parents, I probably wouldn’t even remember them at all. My voice cracked, realizing that what I remembered of my parents weren’t really my memories, but visions that my grandmother had created for me. When my uncle didn’t even try to respond, I added, "So you see, Uncle Peter, this may be junk to you, but it’s a lifeline for me. A lifeline that I’m not ready to let go of." Pushing off the wall, I moved to the edge of the truck and jumped down, passing my uncle without another word.

I couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. I just wanted to finish packing and get out of his presence.

Peter followed us to College Station, helping us unload all of the boxes and furniture into storage. I’d invited him to Mark’s to see where I’d be staying, but he couldn’t spare another moment, seeming anxious to get back to his secluded house in Conroe.

Once he’d climbed inside his truck, he hollered, See you in a couple weeks, and waved his goodbye.

I was left standing next to my storage unit, staring after him as he drove away.

He really is a flake, Emma.

When I turned to rebuke Tosha, I saw the smile that filled her face because of his absence and I argued, "At least he helped with some of the boxes." Although, we’d finished most of the packing by the time he’d arrived.

You know the only reason he came was to get the keys from you. If College Station wasn’t on his way home, I doubt he’d have even lifted a finger to help unload the truck.

Tosha never tried to hide her disdain for anyone, but I understood it. If he hadn’t been my only living relative, I probably wouldn’t have put up with half the things he’d done, but I couldn’t stand the thought of pushing away the only family member I had left.

Yeah, well, he came, so… I trailed off, falling into my car before we pulled away.

Kara had left several minutes before my uncle to return the moving van before the cut off time while Tosha, Uncle Peter, and I tidied everything inside. With everything now locked away, I put my car in gear and drove us the short distance to Mark’s.

My sweaty palms slid as I gripped the wheel. This move had me seriously on edge. Sure, I’d met Mark a few years back while he and Tosha were dating, but he was basically a stranger who I’d now be sharing rent with. Rent and a roof and a lot of my personal space.

Crossing a near empty four lane road, I noted, This place sure seems empty. The few times I’d been to College Station, the streets were rampant with college kids.

Before you know it, the fall session will be underway and we’ll be fighting for our lane on the road. Tosha pointed to an alleyway, urging me to turn. This way’s quicker.

As my car bounced over numerous potholes, I muttered, This may be quicker, but it’s hell on my car.

The alley opened to a row of houses at the front of Mark’s subdivision.

Tosha pointed at a beige house with dark-brown trim around all the windows and doors and announced, That’s Mark’s over there.

I pulled my car to the far side of the drive, staring at the mahogany door that was half adorned with leaded glass now twinkling in the fading rays of sunlight. Other than the sunlight reflecting on the windows, the entire house looked abandoned. Why’s it so dark?

Tosha climbed from the car, grabbing her duffel from the back seat as she exited. Mark said he’d be out for a while tonight.

Scratching my head, I popped my trunk, grabbing a couple suitcases, and duffels to carry inside. Why was he so worried when we’d get here, then?

Tosha eased her key in the door then turned around to present her epic eye roll. Beats the hell out of me, she answered, swiveling back to the door and freeing the lock. When Tosha pushed the door open, she scurried inside, disappearing into a hallway off to the right.

Taking a hesitant step in, I dragged my bags behind me, entering just enough to shut the front door. Unsure of where my room was, I stood in the foyer scanning the area in front of me. All of the furniture - the couches, entertainment center, dining room table - was black. The walls were stark white without a single scuff. And the only color in the entire space came from a few photos framed in black wood. The place looked immaculate, almost sterile. I deduced that if the house could talk, it would be rather monotone.

Shocked by the cleanliness, I mumbled, Is he gay? I’d never known any straight men to keep such a spotless home.

When Tosha rounded the corner, she laughed in answer. What am I? His beard?

No, but … well… I clapped my mouth shut and swiped my finger across the glass-top table nestled near the front door, staring at the streak I left behind. This place is insanely clean.

"Mark’s mom hired help to keep the place fresh. A maid comes by once a week to tidy up, but I have a feeling she was here earlier today to prepare for our arrival, because Mark is not this clean." Tosha grabbed my duffel bags from my arms and led me down the hallway where she’d disappeared moments before.

I followed her into a sky-blue bedroom full of solid oak furniture. This is my room, she explained as I took in the numerous pictures of her with friends and family that were scattered throughout the space. In the middle of the room, huddled against a large picture window was a cozy-looking window seat adorned with dozens of pillows. Unfortunately, anything beyond the window was obscured by the waning sunlight.

And your room, she started, brushing past me and leading me to the opposite end of the hall, is here.

When she opened the door, I thought I could make out a four-poster-bed against the facing wall covered in dark linens. The moment Tosha flipped the switch, I gasped, taking in the cherry canopy bed with ornately carved columns. The bed was ensconced in a maroon velvet comforter stitched with gold threads and accented with black overstuffed pillows. It looked so cozy, but it wasn’t my grandmother’s.

If you don’t like any of the furniture, I can talk to Mark’s mom about replacing it. Or maybe we can pull something of yours from storage. She leaned against a cherry dresser as I entered the room.

Every piece had the same ornate carvings. And the deep cherry glistened from the orange scented cleaner that still clung to the wood.

Dragging my bags to the bed, I heaved them onto the comforter, hoping I didn’t wrinkle the velvet as I unzipped them to remove my clothes from within. Piece by piece, I emptied the contents, putting some clothes on hangers and others in the dresser drawers. There was no time like the present to make myself at