I struggled to my feet and peeked out at him. “I’m okay. Just thinking about everything. I’m going to get changed right now. Be out in a minute.”
He nodded and closed the door. I went over to the pajama section of my closet and reached for a pair that was light blue and covered in white fluffy clouds. I slid them on, and then returned to bed.
Caspian sat down beside me. “Want to talk about it?”
“Yes.” I shivered. Then changed my mind. “No.” Drawing my feet up under me, I hugged my legs to my chest. “I don’t know.” I wound the sheet around my fingers. “I don’t even …” I shook my head.
“What?”
“It doesn’t do any good to talk about it. It was just a stupid dream. It doesn’t mean anything and it doesn’t change anything.”
“Sometimes it helps to talk things out.”
“But my dream didn’t make any sense.” I told him what I could remember of it. “In real life I didn’t cut Vincent with a piece of glass. Or even try to defend myself.”
“Maybe that’s why you had the dream,” he said. “To act out a different course of action.”
I laughed. “Yeah. Right. Because I have a hero complex.”
“It’s not a hero complex to want to defend yourself, Abbey. He came into your space and hurt you. You didn’t get the chance to do anything about it then, so let yourself do something about it now. Even if it is only in your dreams.”
“What I’d really like is to dream about saving Kristen,” I mused. “To stop her from meeting Vincent. Or going to the river.” I thought about it for a minute. “Actually, you know what’s weird? I haven’t dreamt about Kristen at all lately. Not in the hospital, or here at home. The only thing I’ve dreamt about so far is Vincent. Violence. And death.”
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” he said.
“Dreaming about violence and death?”
“No. I meant not dreaming about Kristen.”
“Why would that be a good thing?”
“Because aren’t the dreams you have about her sad? They seem that way.”
“Yeah. But I don’t know …” I shrugged. “It’s a way to keep her close to me, you know? I’d rather have sad dreams about her than not have any dreams at all. At least that way I still get to see her.” Then I shuddered. “Although, I’d like to not have the dream about her dying again. That one I’ll gladly skip.”
Caspian nodded sympathetically.
“What was it like when you died?” I said suddenly. “I know you told me what happened right after your car crash, but did you feel any pain?”
He sat up straighter and glanced down at his hands. “Abbey, I-”
“Please? Please tell me? I want to know if … if I’m ready.”
“You can’t be ready,” he said with an exasperated look on his face. “No one is.”
“I know, but I can try to prepare. Right? At least be more ready than the average person who doesn’t know it’s coming.”
“What are you going to do?” he asked. “Set your affairs in order? Write notes to your family?”
“Maybe I am,” I said. “So?”
“So don’t you think that might freak them out? If you start giving them ‘Dear Mom and Dad, I won’t be alive much longer’ letters, they might think you’re going crazy.”
“It’s not like I’m going to give it to them now. Just, you know … Get them ready. For after.”
He shook his head. “It’s not healthy, Abbey.”
“Why? What’s so unhealthy about it? How different is it from someone knowing that they have a terminal illness and getting everything ready for when they pass on?”
“It’s just different. You’re not sick,” he said.
“But I am. I’m terminal.”
“No. You’re not. You have no idea when-”
“But I do!” I exploded. “I do know, Caspian. I know I’m going to die soon, and there’s nothing that I can do to stop that. So why can’t you just support me on this?”
“I can’t,” he said quietly. “I just can’t.” He let out a shaky breath. “If the situation were reversed, you’d feel the same way.”
“I would support you in anything you wanted to do. I’d help you do it.”
“Why?” he asked suddenly.
His question threw me off guard. “Because I love you. Because I want you to be happy. Because I want us to be together.”
“You don’t know what it’s like to have the one person who makes everything around you come to life start talking about her death,” he said. “It’s just …” He spread his hands and looked at them. “I don’t even know how to describe it. But to know that you’re talking about being like me, like this …” He clenched a hand into a fist. “How can I want that for you? You’re beauty and light and color and smell, and I’m darkness and ash and shadows and death. Cold and alone.”
“But you won’t be alone. Don’t you see that? We’ll be together. And then it won’t matter about everything else, as long as we’re together.”
“Is that the only reason you want to be with me, Abbey? So I’m not alone? It’s different. Different from anything you can ever imagine. What if it’s not what you think it is? What if you come to regret losing the chance you had at life? The chance to be surrounded by the people you love?”
“You’re the person I love,” I insisted. “All I need.”
“What about your shop? What about Abbey’s Hollow? The opportunities you’ll miss to go to Paris and study with the artists there. Or London, to go on shopping trips to buy new bottles or perfume supplies. Are you so ready to give up that dream?”
I didn’t know what to say. Did he have a point? There was still so much I wanted to do. To accomplish. Could that change? Would I change? What if I came to resent him for not having had any of the things I’d wanted in life?
“That’s not going to happen,” I said.
“Are you sure?”
His eyes seemed to see straight into my soul, down to my deepest thoughts, and I squirmed uncomfortably.
“I’m not saying that I won’t regret not having the chance to open Abbey’s Hollow,” I said slowly. “But how do you know what I will or won’t be able to experience once I’m with you? Maybe there’s a perfume shop somewhere on the other side that needs an owner.” I made a halfhearted attempt at a smile.
“For your sake, I hope so.” He smiled back. “But for now … just live the life you have, okay? Don’t become fatalistic. Don’t try to set everything up for your end days. Just enjoy the here and now.”
“I will,” I promised, and he looked relieved.
We sat in silence, the moon shining through the clouds and peeking into the bedroom as it played hide and seek behind them. “I don’t want to go back to sleep,” I finally murmured. “I don’t want to dream.”
“I can help with that.” The bed shifted and he got up, moving toward my bookshelf. A moment later he returned. In his hand was my battered copy of Jane Eyre.
“A book?” I said happily, moving the pillows behind me so that I could be propped up.
“Something else to think about.” He sat down and opened to the first page. “‘Chapter One. There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering-’”
“You’re going to read to me?” I asked, interrupting him. I couldn’t help the giddy note that had crept into my voice.
“Yes, but be quiet now, my bella.”
“What does that mean?”
“‘Beautiful.’”