Melissa knows exactly what she's supposed to do. More than once, she has been given explicit instructions. Nonetheless, she is reluctant to crawl from beneath her cocooning warm blankets to enter the chill beyond. Though the furnace is on — she hears it's blower at work in the basement to prevent the water pipes from freezing —the thermostat is always turned down at bed time.
Still …
Finally…
She throws back her blankets and sheet. She reaches for her robe. Her feet shuffle to find and enter the confining warmth of her slippers waiting just beneath the edge of the bed.
There is just enough filtered light through the blinds from a dawn, somewhere on the horizon, that she doesn't need to switch on any lights or use a flashlight.
She leaves her room for the dimmer hallway. She passes her older sister's room and hears Trish breathing regularly.
The door to her parents' room is open. Within the revealed shadows, she makes out her parents' king-size bed.
She taps lightly on the doorjamb. "Mom? Dad?"
Her mother, the lighter sleeper, responds. "Melissa, baby?"
"It's about the dream, Mom. It was different this time."
There is immediate movement within the room, verified by the clicking on of Mary Remoth's bedside light that reveals the twist of the woman's body. She scoots into a full sitting position; some of the blankets pool in her lap to reveal the top of her pink flannel nightgown. At five-foot, one and one-hundred-ten pounds, she looks very small in the very large bed.
Beside her, Roger Remoth stirs, looking athletically large. One of his wrists moves to shield his closed eyes from the artificial illumination. He doesn't wake up, though.
Mary pats a position on the bed's edge, beside her, inviting her younger daughter deeper into the bedroom. Melissa en route, Mary pokes her husband's back which is turned in her direction.
"Wake up, Roger. There's been a dream shift."
"Wake up, Roger. There's been a dream shift."
Melissa is surprised by how quickly her father responds. Like water from a breaching whale, his bed clothes slide his torso, as far as his pajama waistband, and show all of the exquisite muscles of his lightly haired bare chest. The hands-on owner of Remoth Construction, Roger's usually well-honed body has been made even more so by his summer spent building the new Flicker High School, as well as in erecting several of the new houses at the RockyShores and PinaclePoint development projects. His tip-top physical condition always makes Melissa feel exceptionally safe, as it does even now.
Roger wipes his eyes — which are the same startling blue as those of his younger daughter — to clear them of the last of his sleep as his daughter sits the edge of the bed.
"Tell us what you dreamed, honey," Mary prods.
Melissa does as asked.
"You're sure the candle you lit and the girl's robe were both blue?" Mary asks.
"Yes." After a moment, she adds, "Should I have known what to answer what she asked?"
"Though she doesn't yet know it, honey, she's the only one who has the answer she wants."
"I don't understand," Melissa admits.
"There's a good deal we likely should have told you," Mary apologizes. "We merely hoped all of this would pass you by, as it did my generation; as it did many generations before mine."
"In the meantime, we have to get dressed and make the drive to Dry Wash Gulch," Roger says.
"You think the cave, the candles, and the girl in blue are really there?" Melissa is definitely surprised.
"Maybe not where you dreamed them, honey," Mary says, "but they're there somewhere. We must do our best to find them before others do."
"Others?"
"The bad guys," Mary better defines.
"It's going to be okay, honey," Roger assures. He reaches for his daughter's nearest hand and enfolds it within both of his larger ones.
"God will surely be on our side," he says and kisses Melissa's cool fingertips.
Copyright 2009 W. MALTESE
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