The Weird Travels of Aimee Schmidt: The Curse of the Gifted (31 page)

“Yeah, I know what you mean, and it’s okay. Really. You know your dad didn’t do this on purpose to make sure his daughter wasn’t corrupted by her boyfriend.”

“I know, but still I feel bad that once again, thanks to me, we got interrupted.”

“Well,” he said while he twisted his fingers into Aimee's, “third time’s the charm. I’m sure it’ll be even better. The waiting just makes me want you more.”

Aimee felt her face flush. She glanced over and caught him looking at her. She melted. “Dylan, would you do me a big favor?”

“Sure, anything.”

“Would you stay with me at the house? I need to get a couple hours of sleep, and I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep if I’m there by myself. I keep seeing Dad all hooked up to wires. It kinda has me freaked out.”

Dylan took her hand up to his lips and kissed her fingers. His eyes glanced back and forth between the road and Aimee. “Anything you want, babe.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.”

They pulled into the driveway. Aimee took a long breath and grabbed the door handle. Dylan was there opening the door and helping her out before she could gather up her clutch and swing one leg out of the car. Slowly they walked up the driveway to the backdoor. Aimee heard Zonker gleefully barking from inside. As soon as she opened the door he charged out onto the landing and jumped up on her with his little stump wagging furiously. Then quickly he took off into the backyard to take care of his business. They stepped into the utility room and Aimee flipped on the light. The rest of the house stayed cloaked in subdued light, but looking into the kitchen she could see the reminder of Dad and Dr. Morris's interrupted morning. The shock of seeing her father in such a frail condition, and thinking how terribly alone she would be without him, suddenly overwhelmed her and she started bawling. Dylan drew her limp body into his and held her firmly. He swung her up into his arms and carried her to her bed, then gently laid her on top of the quilt.

“Don’t go!” Aimee sputtered in between waning sobs. She reached out and seized his arm.

Dylan looked down at the clenched fist around his wrist, and then at Aimee's painful eyes. “I’m not leaving. I’ll be right back. I’m going to let Zonker in, then get you some water. Go ahead and get comfortable. I promise I’m coming right back.”

As soon as he exited the room Aimee slid out of her prom dress, threw it across the desk chair, and eased on a t-shirt. She surveyed the disarrayed room where fourteen hours earlier she and Chels excitedly prepared for their senior prom. She stared in the mirror. She looked a wreck. Black bags circled under her eyes, and her hair still felt semi-stiff from the can of hair spray Chels used to plaster it to her head, but she was too tired to brush her teeth and wash her face so she crawled under the covers. Her eyes instantly clamped shut. Before long Aimee felt Zonker jump onto the bed. He quickly molded his body next to her. A few seconds later, she heard Dylan shut the door, and she felt his warm body slide under the covers and scoot up next to her on the other side. He eased his arm over her side and pressed his face against her shoulder. She felt snug with Z Boy on one side and Dylan on the other.

In a whisper, Aimee said, “I love you.”

“I love you more,” Dylan whispered back.

Instantly Aimee's mind slipped into darkness. …

…“Aimee,” the soft voice spoke. Its owner’s hand gently shook her arm. “Aimee, sweetheart, can you hear me?”

Aimee's eyes felt nailed shut, but she desperately tried to pry them open. She was so tired that it was impossible to keep her mind from drifting back into the dark abyss it needed.

“Aimee, you don’t have much time. You need to wake up so we can talk.”

Her mind swam adrift in a sea of unconsciousness. She couldn’t see anything around her. Only the voice permeated her brain and lingered. This voice wasn’t her dad's. It wasn’t Dylan’s, nor James's. It was a female’s voice, but not Sacha’s or Chelsea’s. The voice was melodic…velvety…inviting, but not a voice she knew. Aimee's brain finally registered she needed to wake up, no matter how tired she was, and see who was in her room with her.

Suddenly, like an electric current surged through her body igniting every nerve ending, Aimee shot straight up in bed. Her eyes popped wide open. This room wasn’t hers. She was no longer in her bed with Dylan and Zonker. She was in a twin bed with crisp, white sheets.

She looked to her side and a woman, shrouded in a white linen dress and a white scarf covering her head, sat in a steel framed chair next to the bed. A light glowing from a ceiling fixture covered with a steel wire cage illuminated the room. The woman turned her face away from Aimee briefly, and Aimee caught her countenance. She gasped! Immediately Aimee backed up against the headboard. Her heart fluttered and her breathing dropped to shallow whiffs. The woman quickly turned back to Aimee, smiled, and stretched out her thin, delicate hand. Aimee pulled back as far away as she could on the bed, then she leaped from the mattress and ran to the door that imprisoned them. She beat on the thick wood, screaming for someone to help her, but the dull sound only echoed back into the sparsely decorated room and ricocheted off the stark, white walls. There was no way out of this nightmare!

The beautiful lady stood up and slowly crossed the room towards Aimee with her hand still stretched out. Aimee's eyes moved from the lady's hand up to her face. Dark circles under her blue eyes made a striking contrast against her pale skin. She stopped a couple feet from where Aimee glued herself against the wall and slowly slid back the scarf letting it drop to the floor. Her golden hair, with hints of soft gray, flowed down her back. Aimee immediately knew she had gazed into these mysterious eyes before.

“My little girl,” the woman started while wiping at her eyes and squelching a sniffle, “I always knew you would be as beautiful as an angel when you grew up. I have waited so long, more than eighteen years, to see you.”

The sweat immediately gushed from Aimee's forehead and dripped down her neck. The room smothered her in warmth. She felt like she could ignite and explode. Aimee closed her eyes and shook her head trying to whisk away this hallucination, but when she opened her eyes they were still alone together. The woman's hand stretched out again and eased into Aimee's. Aimee jerked back at her cool touch, but she was unable to move.

“Darling, I’m sure you don’t have long, and heaven knows when
they
will give me another chance to see you. I have so much to tell you, and so much to hear from you, too.”

Tenderly, her thin, pale fingers slowly wrapped around Aimee's hand. Cautiously, she inched closer towards Aimee like a human approaches a frightened rabbit in the garden. Just as she was inches away from Aimee, the smell of sweet wild honeysuckle floated from the woman's frail body and embraced her. Aimee closed her eyes and sucked in the fragrance. It flowed instantly to her brain and imprinted.

Then without warning the woman's hand vanished, and Aimee's hand dropped in thin air. Aimee's eyes flew wide open. She stood just in her scant clothing. Her body was wedged into the corner of her bedroom. Zonker sat on the edge of the bed staring bewildered. Dylan lay sprawled out in the middle of her bed. His deep breathing signaled he was still sleeping soundly. Aimee shook her head, then closed her eyes hoping that when she opened them again she would be back in the room with the massive door and the woman who had to be her mother. It felt so real, not like a dream, more like the
time when Jack Reynolds paid her a visit.
Hauntingly
real! Was she going
crazy
again? But she could
still smell the wild honeysuckle on her hands where her mother touched her.

Finally her trembling eased. Her breathing leveled out, then her sweaty body melted away from the wall. She quietly tiptoed back towards the bed. Zonker watched Aimee's every move and quickly scooted over to her side of the bed while she painstakingly lifted the sheet just enough to slide under without waking Dylan. She skillfully maneuvered her body under the covers and flipped to her side to avoid touching her bed partner with her moist skin. He muttered something incomprehensible, and then turned and pitched his arm over Aimee's side. She held her breath hoping that he would settle back into a slumber. Within a few seconds his deep breathing returned.

Her mind ran frantically back through the episode trying to recall every second of it, and seal it into her memory. Emotion stirred tears, and her eyes blurred. The only explanation possible was she had traveled, and not just any travel. None of the usual warnings marked this journey. One second she was in her warm bed next to Dylan, both of them sound asleep, the next she was gone, and just as fast she returned. No spiraling tunnel…no gut-wrenching pain being sucked through time. Aimee knew she had been purposefully sent to meet this woman, someone she had known all her life, but only through a black and white photo. Aimee shook her head in disbelief, but she couldn’t shake away the truth.

The stranger she had visited was her
dead
mother - Marie Aimee Schmidt!

Those eyes were the same eyes that she looked at almost every day of her life, the mysterious eyes of the woman in the photograph with her dad.

“Christ, I visited my mother!” exclaimed Aimee.

Dylan stirred again. This time he didn’t drift back to sleep. “Huh, what was that?” he muttered half asleep while he dragged his arm from over Aimee's waist and turned towards the door. He instantly rolled back towards her. She wiped her eyes quickly on the pillow, and then turned over.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” she quietly answered.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, yawned, and then pulled her tight into his hold. “You didn’t wake me. I was dreaming and I guess I thought I heard something. It musta been in my dream.”

“So go back to sleep. I need to get up and get some things done before I go back to the hospital. Sleep a while longer,” she whispered and stroked his face with her fingers.

“What time is it?” He yawned again, closed his eyes, then reached up and captured her fingers and wrapped his hand gently around them.

“Hmmm,” she peeked over at the clock, “…nine thirty. Seriously, go back to sleep. I want to get up to the hospital in time for the next visitation so you can sleep another hour.”

After a quick stretch, Dylan rolled Aimee over into his arms. His lips instantly caressed hers. It caught her off guard and she pulled back instantly.

Dylan said, “You okay? I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Sorry. I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,” she answered, hoping to smooth out any hurt feelings. Her brain was still too warped by the mind-boggling visit she just had to enjoy lying in bed with the
man she loved. Any other time this could have been a
perfect
opportunity to rekindle what they started
several hours earlier, but her mind kept flitting back and forth between her dad holding on to life as he lay in a CCU unit hooked up to portentous sounding machines, and the paranormal visit with her dead mother. She definitely was too weirded out to think about Dylan and herself. “I’m sorry, Dylan. I’m still freaked out about Dad, and I didn’t get much sleep. I promise to be better tonight.”

Dylan slid his arms around her again and squeezed tenderly. “Hey, I understand. I don’t think I could function if Mom, or even Paul, was in the hospital with a heart attack.”

“And what about
your
dad?”

“Yeah, even him,” he replied quietly. “Anyway, we have plenty of time to be together. It just
seems incredibly enticing to wake up next to you. I could get used to this
really
quick.”

“Me, too.” She sighed as she reached over and stroked his cheek. “I love you, Dylan.”

His dark eyes smoldered as he looked into hers. “I love you more,” he whispered.

“Hold that thought for later. I need to get ready.” She leaned over and quickly pecked his lips, then jumped out of bed to get some fresh clothes.

He rolled to his back and watched Aimee tearing through her dresser in search of some clean lingerie. After a minute he asked, “Hey, what’s that strange scent I smell?”

She whipped around suddenly and stared at him. “What smell do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never smelled this fragrance on you before. It smells really sweet, almost fruity. No, not fruity. It smells kinda like a flower. Mom has it planted in the backyard. Lilac, I think.” He sniffed his fingertips. “Nope, not lilac…wild honeysuckle.”

Immediately, her mouth dropped open and the hair rose on her arms. Aimee whirled around and acted like she was searching for something in the drawer. There was no way she could begin to explain what had just happened to her before Dylan woke up. She wasn’t sure it was real herself. Aimee fumbled around in the tangled underwear and bras stalling while she quickly fabricated a plausible answer.

“I don’t know. I don’t smell anything different.”

“You don’t smell that? I even smell it on my fingers. It’s kinda sickening sweet, but nice. Here smell,” Dylan said while he sniffed his hands. He held his hand out to Aimee to whiff. She turned back to him and hesitated a second before approaching the bed. Aimee took a fast snort full of air near his outstretched hand and closed her eyes.

“Yep, that’s my new perfume, but it smells more like a gardenia, I think.”

“Well, I don’t remember smelling it last night…”

“No, I put some on this morning when I went to the bathroom. I had washed off my cologne when I showered at your house.”

“Oh…well, I like the other stuff you use better, but this is nice, too.”

“Thanks, I’ll remember that,” she answered and quickly gathered up her clean clothes. “I’ll be back in a bit. I need to wash this can of hair spray out of my hair. Please go back to sleep.”

After a big yawn, Dylan turned over to his side while he watched Aimee leave. “Yeah, I think I will. Wake me a couple minutes before you need to go so I can jump in and get a quick shower.”