“Hey, buddy,” she crooned, smoothing his dark hair and crouching down beside the bed.
She gave Rufus a grateful scratch on the head.
“What’s wrong?” she asked gently, trying not to wake Jennifer who was in the other twin bed across the room.
David shook his head, sniffing and drawing in a shuddering breath.
She grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and handed it to him.
He haphazardly wiped his nose.
“Are you sad?” asked Crystal.
He shook his head.
“Scared?”
A small, hesitant nod.
“Did you have a bad dream?”
He nodded again.
“Come here,” Crystal groaned, slipped her arms around his waist. “Give me a hug.”
He came willingly out of the bed in his Superman pajamas, and she slid down to the floor, sitting him across her lap. His skinny arms went around her neck, and he tucked his face against her shoulder.
“Can you tell me about it?” she asked.
“It was…” He took three rapid indrawn breaths. “A monster.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” She rubbed his back. “No wonder you were scared.”
His arms tightened.
“But it’s all over,” she crooned.
“He was big and hairy, and he roared like an angry lion.”
“Auntie Crystal’s here now.” She tried again.
“And I tried to run. But my legs were stuck, and then…and then…”
Crystal’s heart went out to him.
“Mommy came,” David whimpered.
“Did Mommy save you?” asked Crystal.
David shook his head. “The monster got Mommy.”
Crystal’s heart lodged in her throat.
The monster was big and hairy, and he yelled.
She nearly groaned out loud. There was every possibility the monster was Zane.
She brushed David’s sweaty hair from his face. “You know the monster’s not real, don’t you?”
He hesitated, but then he nodded.
“Dreams are just your brain making up crazy pictures.”
David nodded again.
Crystal drew him away so she could see his face in the dim light.
“I once dreamed I landed on the moon,” she told him. “And I met a pink bunny. She was made entirely of cotton candy, except she had licorice whiskers.” Crystal wrinkled her nose then made a show of licking her lips. “She looked delicious.”
David cracked a smile.
“So I asked her.” Crystal paused. “Can you guess what I asked her?”
David shrugged.
“I asked if I could eat her tail.”
His eyes went wide, while Crystal made up the sweetest, tamest dream story she could conjure.
“She told me yes,” said Crystal. “She said it wouldn’t hurt, and her tail would grow back.”
“Did you eat it?” asked David.
“You bet,” said Crystal. “And then her friend Bobo came along. Can you guess what Bobo was made of?”
David pursed his little lips. “Marshmallows?”
“Yes,” said Crystal. “Bobo was a little wiener dog made out of marshmallows.”
“Shouldn’t he be made of wieners?”
“Like I said, dreams are crazy.” She rolled her eyes. “A wiener dog made out of marshmallows. Isn’t that the silliest thing?”
“The silliest thing would be the Mallo-Puffs Man made out of wieners.”
Crystal giggled. “That would be sillier,” she agreed. She rubbed a finger across the tip of his nose. “But not as tasty.”
“Did you eat the marshmallow dog?”
“Only his tail. That’s the way it was on the moon. You could eat the tails, but nothing else.”
David sobered. “I wish I had candy dreams.”
“What’s your favorite candy?”
“Caramel.”
“And what’s your favorite animal?”
He thought for a moment. “An elephant.”
“And what would a caramel elephant be named?”
“Mr. Sticky.”
“Great name.”
David nodded.
“When you lie down again-”
His arms convulsively tightened around her neck.
“-I want you to think about all the adventures Mr. Sticky could have.” She almost said on the moon, but quickly switched the thought. “In Candy Land,” she finished.
“What if the monster comes back?”
“In Candy Land,” Crystal said softly, “monsters are made of ice cream. And since Candy Land is warm, they melt away.”
David looked skeptical.
“Tell you what,” she said, trying one last idea. “How would you feel if I let Rufus sleep up on the bed with you?”
David looked at Rufus then back at Crystal. “Really?”
She nodded. “Really.”
David compressed his lips bravely. “Okay.”
Crystal smiled. “Good. Hop up then.”
He straightened his skinny legs, standing to climb back under the covers.
She tucked him in, then patted the foot of the bed. “Come on, Rufus.”
The dog looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.
“Up here,” she said encouragingly with another pat.
Rufus cocked his head, eyes narrowing.
“Come on, Rufus,” called David.
The dog gave Crystal one last, searching, suspicious look. Then he rose to his feet, gathered his body and jumped onto the bed.
“Good, boy,” she sang, scratching behind both his ears. “Now, lie down.”
She’d already learned that lie down was a familiar command to Rufus. He curled his body next to David’s feet, then dropped his head down on his front paws.
She moved back to the head of the bed. “You going to be okay?” she asked David.
He nodded.
“Remember, Mr. Sticky and his adventures in Candy Land.”
“With his faithful dog, Rufus?”
“What’s Rufus made of?”
“Bubble gum.”
“Perfect,” said Crystal, giving David a final kiss on the forehead.
“G’ night, Auntie Crystal.”
“Good night, David.”
She glanced over to Jennifer’s bed.
The girl’s eyes were open.
Crystal moved across the room and straightened the covers. “Good night to you, too, sweetheart.”
“I like Rufus,” Jennifer whispered.
“I like Rufus, too,” said Crystal as Jennifer’s eyes fluttered close.
Crystal walked to the bedroom door, pausing to gaze back at her beautiful niece and nephew and the somewhat scruffy Lab who seemed to be standing guard over them.
Her tomorrow would revolve around another dinner with Larry. But she’d have to find a way to talk to Amber, as well. If Zane was the monster in David’s nightmare, then he had to get out of their lives-permanently, and soon.
AFTER LIBBY DIED, LARRY’S family and friends had told him to get on with his life. Get a hobby, they’d said, don’t work so hard. As if throwing himself into his work wasn’t the best and only way to keep from going insane with grief.
He’d ignored them, and his approach had worked. For a while.
But on this last wedding anniversary, something inside him snapped. He realized he needed to rejoin the human race. And to do that, he needed to take on something brand new, something totally unconnected with Libby. So, he’d taken his family’s advice, used some of the money he’d earned through mathematically calculating the stock market, and bought himself a hobby-a big, old Victorian house on the shores of Myrtle Pond.
Two hours northeast of Charlotte, the tiny community of Myrtle Pond was on the edge of the national forest. The road in was worn and potholed. He had a total of fifteen neighbors. Calling the big house a fixer-upper was being kind, but it was exactly what he wanted, needed.
He’d stocked up on power tools and two-by-fours and transported them to the house last month. Today, since he’d been up at four o’clock-which wasn’t a problem, because he’d been cursed his entire life with a need for only four hours sleep-he’d fired up his compact Cessna airplane and flown from Charlotte to Myrtle Pond.
By one in the afternoon, crowbar in hand, he was staring at a pile of broken drywall, bent nails and the bare two-by-four frame of the formal dining room.