Hidden in Dreams (15 page)

“Is Jacob also being protected?”

“Well, yes. Are you going to tell him?”

“I think one of us should.”

“You do it, then.”

“All right.” Elena studied the woman across the table from her. Everything about Rachel was in carefully refined order. “Why are you doing this? I don’t mean helping your friend. I mean doing so publicly.”

She responded with customary irritation. “Isn’t that obvious? Besides the fact that my mentor and friend asked me, I’m in the business of
healing
. The world is
sick
. If there is a chance I can do
anything
to avert this crisis, I will. Even if it means—”

“Losing control of your own personal situation,” Elena finished for her. Elena decided she would probably never be this woman’s friend. She doubted Rachel had many real friends. But she could most certainly work with her. “I understand.”

“I . . .” Rachel stopped because Reginald Pierce’s shadow fell upon the table.

Reginald smiled a greeting to Elena, then said, “It’s time.”

•    •    •

When the makeup lady finished with Elena’s face and hair, Elena was ushered back into the same lecture hall they had used the previous time. Only now the rows of padded folding chairs were almost all occupied. The rear of the room was jammed with television lights and cameras and sound equipment. The press observed her entrance with a cynical eye and talked loudly among themselves. A sound technician fitted her with a microphone and transmitter, then led her onstage.

The crystal podium had been moved to one side. Opposite it was a narrow table covered by a white cloth, fronting two leather chairs. Jacob Rawlings had swiveled his around so a makeup lady could powder his face. He winced a welcome at Elena and said, “They want me to join you.”

“I think it’s an excellent idea.”

“I wish I shared your confidence.”

“You are known as a skeptic. Your presence will mean a lot.” Elena settled into the chair beside him. “Not to mention steady my nerves.”

The drapes behind the stage had been drawn back to reveal a wall of flat screens. Five of the oversize monitors showed faces. The others held a bright blue backdrop with a city and country written in white script. Elena counted the screens and said, “Fifteen dreamers, counting me and Tenning?”

“Four more have been confirmed over the weekend. I have personally checked them out.”

“They’ve all had the third dream?”

A woman’s voice resonated from speakers overhead and to either side, “Fifteen of us have had the same experience?”

Jacob said softly, “My patient.”

Elena recalled the woman’s name, and replied, “Agatha, can you hear me?”

“Perfectly.”

“It would be helpful if you would allow us to show your face.”

“That cannot happen,” the woman replied crisply.

“All right. But if any of you others feel you might be willing to reveal yourselves, it can only help.” Elena waited, but all of the screens remained blue. She added, “We are all here for the same purpose. To confirm a warning that has come to us through these dreams.”

To her astonishment, the one screen that switched from blue to a live feed revealed the face of United States Senator Mario Suarez. A murmur swept through the room. Suarez glared angrily at them from his position atop the rear wall and said, “This is going to destroy me.”

“It is a risk we are all taking, sir,” Jacob replied.

Mario glared not at the journalists but at the other blank screens. “Trevor, you can only hide out there for so long.”

The only response was confusion from the faces on the other screens.

Senator Suarez snorted. “Coward.”

“No one has called me that, not in forty-seven years.”

“Well, then.”

The face of SuenaMed’s CEO flashed onto the screen. He scowled at Mario Suarez and said, “Senator, you just lost my support.”

Elena turned back to the astonished journalists and the glaring television lights. “I think we can begin now.”

•    •    •

Elena allowed the questions to continue for almost an hour, until all the major issues had been covered and the journalists began repeating themselves. She then rose and firmly concluded the
conference. While people were still milling about afterward, Elena excused herself and slipped out the doors. Rachel caught up with her by the elevators. “Where are you going?”

“I have a class to teach this afternoon.”

“But we’re not done here!”

“I am.”

Rachel waved back at the gathered journalists. “There are fourteen dreamers online who need your guidance.”

“My response is the same as when we spoke on the phone. I can act as spokesperson for what has happened. But I cannot offer anything else unless I feel divinely guided.”

Rachel flushed. “I wish you wouldn’t insist upon bringing your God into this.”

“Our God,” Elena corrected. “From my perspective, there is no alternative.”

“But these people
need
you.”

“Again, I must respectfully disagree.”

Jacob pushed through the conference doors, spotted them, and rushed over. “You’re leaving?”

“I have to hurry back if I’m to make my afternoon class.”

“Can I come with you? I have to get back to Atlanta. But I can fly from Melbourne as easy as from here.”

Rachel was incensed. “
Both
of you are leaving?”

“I have professional responsibilities, just like you.” Elena had an idea. “Can you set up a conference link and feed it to my computer?”

“I suppose . . .”

“If you want me to speak with the others, why not arrange an online conference call for tomorrow morning.” Elena halted further argument by stepping into the elevator.

When the doors shut on Rachel’s irritated expression, Jacob asked, “Would you rather I not come with you?”

“It’s not that.” She spoke carefully, feeling her way. “Melbourne
is more than my home. It is my refuge, my place apart from everything that’s building out here. In the world. I need a space that is separate. Where I can pray. And reflect. And seek guidance.”

Jacob was silent as the doors opened and they crossed the elegant lobby. When they entered the humid Florida day, he said, “Yesterday I asked Rachel why she was calling me and not you. She said the idea of foretelling dreams linking strangers around the globe was already staggering. Adding God to the mix would make it impossible to pass on this warning.”

Elena started down the sidewalk linking the building to the visitor’s parking lot. She saw no need to respond.

Jacob sighed. “This is very hard for me. I have spent my entire life responding defensively to any mention of religion.”

“We are talking about faith,” Elena corrected. “At its best, religion is a matter of creating an earthly structure in which to express the wonder of connecting with the divine. At its worst, religion seeks to fit God into a safe and comfortable little box. Faith is man’s individual walk with the Lord. This has everything to do with faith, and almost nothing to do with religion.”

Jacob glanced over. “My father would love talking with you.”

She beeped her Jeep’s doors. And waited.

“I could not get yesterday’s conversation out of my head. That and all the things I disliked most about your book and what it implied.” Jacob’s gaze held a naked appeal. “I was hoping to talk over these things with you.”

“In that case, you would be most welcome to drive back with me.” Elena reached into her purse. “But first I need to make a call.”

•    •    •

When Jacob rose from the Jeep an hour later, most of the female students turned and stared. He had lived with his looks long enough to ignore the attention, or so it seemed to Elena. He glanced around and said, “The campus is lovely.”

“This side contains the new money and buildings. The older portion of the campus is pretty basic.”

He fell into step beside her. “My first gig after grad school was teaching at the Community College of Denver. The student population had doubled in less than three years. My classroom and office were in a pair of ancient mobile homes. The floors bucked and the lights flickered. A hard sneeze could blow out a window. I was there two years and thought I’d never get out.”

“I wouldn’t mind spending a few years here,” Elena said. She wanted to add,
if I am allowed,
but held back.

He surveyed the lake, with its tall central waterspout and border of blooming oleander. “Who is this we’re meeting with?”

“Reed Thompson is the university president. And a new friend.” She led him down the central walk flanked by imperial palms and entered the main cafeteria. They crossed the atrium with its tall windows overlooking the lake, and entered the side alcove marked
FACULTY ONLY.
Reed was on his phone. He saw them enter and raised one finger.

“I’ve seen him somewhere,” Jacob said.

“He was formerly the White House’s chief economic adviser.”

“Of course. Sure. I attended a conference where we both spoke.” He looked at her. “I still don’t understand why we are here.”

“Reed is a trusted colleague, another professional, and a fellow believer.”

Jacob’s smile became slightly canted. “You mean, he’s your backup.”

“If you feel that way, we can leave and talk alone after my class. It’s just, you and I share an awkward history. I thought including Reed might help.”

“I don’t know . . .” He looked beyond her. “Here he comes.”

Reed introduced himself and ushered them back to the table by the window. He offered coffee, served them himself, then took the seat opposite Jacob and said, “How do we proceed?”

“I have real reservations about this,” Jacob said. “I understand fully.”

“I mean, including you in this conversation. No offense intended.”

“None taken. But I have to say, if I’d been in Elena’s position, I would have done the same.”

“You mean, with our history.”

“That plays a part. But I was speaking of the here and now. You two are at the eye of a hurricane. Turbulent issues, a grave crisis, emotions running very high. Talking about God means adding another highly charged issue.” He gave Jacob an opportunity to object, then asked, “When a couple comes to you in turmoil, what role do you play as a psychologist?”

Elena supplied, “The objective voice.”

“But neither of you are objective,” Jacob retorted. “Not about God.”

“I am as objective as you are when you deal with the couple, given your training and your knowledge. You offer a different perspective, a different wisdom. So do I.” Reed smiled. “I suggest there are further similarities. In counseling, you deal with both the present situation and related issues from the past. I will make just one more suggestion; then if you want to go, I completely understand. All right?”

“Yes. Go ahead.”

“Dr. Rawlings, you contacted Elena and are seated here now, because you feel that your analytical stance is no longer satisfactory. Your current situation requires a clearer grasp of what is behind the veil of measurable reality.” Reed’s approach was utterly calm, he might as well have been discussing the weather.
“To understand God is to
know
him. You must experience the reality for yourself. Cross the line.”

Jacob pondered that a long moment, before jerking a tense nod. “I’m listening.”

Elena did not so much rise to her feet as allow herself to be lifted. “I need to go teach my class.”

14

E
lena emerged two hours later to find Jacob had already left for the airport and Reed had departed for an off-campus meeting. She did not care. She was exhausted from all the day had contained. She went home, ate a quick meal, and was asleep before sundown. She was woken twice during the night by rumbles, but when she realized it was thunder and not internal quakes from another dream, she swiftly returned to sleep.

The next morning Elena was reading her Bible on her balcony when the phone rang and Vicki said, “Is your television on?”

“It’s six thirty in the morning.”

“You think I don’t know that? I haven’t been up this early since before our son learned to sleep through the night.” Her New York editor sounded impossibly chipper. “Sunrises are a ghastly affair, if you ask me.”

“It’s lovely down here.”

“All those colors. Bad for the eyes. Is it on?”

“Yes.”

“Turn to MSNBC. Hurry.”

The financial reporter was saying, “It’s not quite two in the morning in Lisbon. Rumors are swirling. The emergency cabinet meeting broke up an hour ago. Word on the street is, the national government has voted to withdraw from the euro and renege on its debts. In Japan, where the markets have already opened, the euro has fallen by fifteen percent. Stocks of banks exposed to Portuguese bonds have plummeted, pulling down off-hours trading to lows not seen since—”

Elena cut off the television and pressed a fist to her stomach. Her previous calm was replaced by a dread so great she felt nauseated.

Vicki said, “I had to go online to watch your press conference. The national news chose to ignore your clutch of dreamers, even with a US senator and the SuenaMed head honcho, what’s his name?”