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  “Not really.”

  “You’re still a little strange this morning. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  Annie turned to Kate. At the look of concern on her sister’s face, she relented—halfway. “I had a nightmare. I was with a man. We loved each other. He held my hand in his, and we were running through the woods. Something was chasing us. I was scared. Terrified. The man who ran with me—my husband, I guess—pushed me ahead telling me to run faster. And I did until I realized he hadn’t followed me. I looked back. He’d stopped to face whatever chased us, and I—Oh God, how could I leave him? My heart shook me with every beat. I’ve never felt so scared. I knew he was going to be killed, but I didn’t want him to leave me, so I rushed toward him, ready to die beside him.”

  For a few seconds, Annie closed her eyes and pressed her trembling fingers against her mouth. “I saw a gun pointed at him. I froze. I screamed. I screamed so loud I never even heard the shot, only the echo. He spun back toward me, and the look on his face—Oh, God. Maybe it was the force of the shot that turned him around … or maybe he tried to come to me. I don’t know. He fell … right at my feet … and I dropped to my knees beside him. He tried to say something to me, but the blood was … it was horrible. His eyes … I looked right into his eyes, and then he just … he was gone. I loved him, but he died, and all I could do was scream and scream and scream.”

  Annie blinked and pulled herself back to the present.

  Kate stared at her, lips parted, barely breathing. She swallowed hard. “But … that was only a dream. It wasn’t real.”

  “No. No, of course not … it was just a dream.”

  Annie’s recitation had invited something dark into the kitchen. Silence covered them like the blanket they’d pulled over their heads when they were little girls, afraid to see what might lurk in the dark. Kate stared at her plate, her hand lying immobile beside it. Annie stared at the floor. It was nearly a minute before the tink of metal against china signified Kate had resumed eating.

  Annie turned back to preparing her breakfast. She opened the microwave and tested the water to see if it was still hot before removing her cup and plunging the tea bag into it.

  “It’s supposed to be a beautiful day,” Kate said between bites. “Why don’t we go out to the lake?”

  This question confirmed Annie’s earlier suspicion. The scenario was a familiar one. Kate had met two guys last night. One of them—the Texan, no doubt—had invited her to the lake, but his friend needed a date, so Kate needed a friend. A sister would do.

  “Are you asking to use my car again,” Annie asked, “or do you have a fifth wheel you’re trying to pair me with?”

  Kate sighed. “I worry about you, Annie. It’s unnatural to be alone all the time like you are.”

  Gingerly, Annie fished the hot bagel halves from the toaster and spread them with cream cheese. “I really do appreciate your concern,” she said, carrying her plate and cup to join Kate at the table, “but I’m fine.”

  “Ha! If you hadn’t noticed, big sister, you have no life.” Kate chewed a bit of wheat berry toast. “The ‘fifth wheel’ is a gorgeous guy.”

  “But …”

  “But what?” Kate looked up from her plate, eyes wide, the picture of innocence.

  “You can’t go to the lake if I don’t go, right?”

  “No-o. I can find someone else to go with us. But it won’t be nearly as much fun without you. Come on, Annie. Please.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Kate shook her head slowly, giving Annie a sorrowful puppy look. “You’re turning into an old maid.”

  “You never know,” Annie said. “I just might surprise you some day.”

  No doubt, Kate would think her life was over if she spent two dateless weekends in a row. Annie hadn’t been out with a man in months. Still, she had no intention of spending the day fending off the unwanted advances of some “gorgeous” guy, who probably couldn’t string six words together without getting a headache.

  “I’m sorry, Kate.” Annie reached across the table and patted her sister’s hand. “I already have plans for today.”

  That wasn’t a lie. Earlier, between shampooing and conditioning, she’d decided to spend the afternoon researching online. She hoped to find an explanation for what she’d experienced with Tom. If she got the chance to talk to him again, she wanted to have something to talk about. And if she had enough knowledge of the subject she might be able to keep them talking for a long time.

  4

  June 7

  Annie worked at the Rockville Cineplex as the concessions manager, which on busy nights meant she worked the cafe section and scheduled two teens to handle the popcorn and candy. This Monday night, she’d work both sections with only one teen.

  When Jacqui, one of the teens ending her shift, came to the counter and ordered an espresso to go she leaned toward her and spoke as if they conspired. “Did that guy come back yet?”

  “What guy?”

  “Kevin forgot to tell you?” To emphasize Kevin’s sin, Jacqui heaved a sigh and shot a deadly glare across the lobby at him. “Well, some guy came in this afternoon and asked if you worked today—okay, he didn’t actually ask for you, he said he was looking for ‘the pretty woman with the long, dark hair’ and Kevin said he must be talking about you, and that’s a compliment—that Kevin would think of you, I mean—or maybe the guy said ‘beautiful’, I forget. Ask Kevin. Anyway, Kevin told him you weren’t scheduled till tonight, so I just wondered if he’d come back yet, but I guess not, huh?”

  Annie capped the cup of coffee and set it on the counter. An espresso was the last thing the girl needed, but her whitewater flow of words had quickened Annie’s pulse.

  “No one’s been in to see me tonight.” Annie pushed the cup closer to the girl’s hand, eager for Jacqui to leave so she could ask Kevin precisely what “that guy” had said.

  “Well, who’s the guy?”

  “I don’t know, Jacqui.” She didn’t care that her tone was edged with impatience. “I guess I’ll find out when he comes back.” Although she felt sure it was Tom, she had no obligation to share that with this hyper teen.

  “Oh. Right. Well, I gotta go.” Jacqui grabbed her espresso and turned to leave, but with a laugh she called back over her shoulder, “Maybe he’s your Prince Charming.”

  “I hope so,” Annie whispered. She stepped out from behind the counter, intending to walk over to where Kevin was taking tickets. She froze. Tom had just walked through the lobby doors.

  In Tom’s excitement, he felt as though he floated above the tiled entry, but when he stepped onto the lobby carpet, he stopped as abruptly as if he wore Velcro shoes. The girl in the ticket booth had been wrong. The Woman wasn’t behind the concessions counter where he’d been told he would find her. He kicked himself for wasting an excuse to get out of the house, not to mention paying for some damned movie he wasn’t going to see.

  “May I help you?” asked the gawky teen waiting to take his ticket.

  Tom’s voice was nearly a growl. “This afternoon you said Annie worked tonight.”

  The kid jumped as though Tom had accused him of some atrocity. “Yes, sir, she’s right over there.” He nodded toward the cafe.

  When Tom turned in the direction the boy indicated, he saw Annie staring at him. Suddenly, he felt foolish, and his ears flamed, but it was too late to back out. Although for two days he’d thought of meeting her again, he realized now he’d never actually scripted what he would say to her when he did. As he walked toward her he tried out a couple openings.

  Possibly—Wow, that was some freaky thing the other night, wasn’t it? Or maybe—Does that happen with every guy you meet?

  He used to consider himself a smooth guy with a line, but he was out of practice. Then again, he didn’t need a line tonight. He was there only to discuss a mutual interest. This was just business—weird business but business nonetheless. He took a deep breath, smiled, and stepped up to bat.

 
; “Hello, Annie,” he said as he approached her. “I’m Tom Cogan.” He lifted his right hand preparing for the customary handshake, thought better of it, and shoved it in his pocket instead. “I’ve been anxious to see you again.”

  “I … um …” She laughed nervously, then took a deep breath and started over. “So, you remember me.”

  “How could I forget?” His smile stretched to a grin. “You made quite an impression.”

  Annie motioned him toward the cafe tables. “I’m not exactly swamped with customers right now, so I can take a break.”

  “I’m pretty sure you know what I’m talking about,” Tom said, “so I’ll ask it straight out. What the hell happened the other night when our hands touched?”

  She said nothing, just stared at him for a moment before looking away toward the windows. When she did speak, her voice was so low he wasn’t sure at first she was speaking to him. “That’s never happened to me before. I called it a vision, but I’m not really sure what it was.” She turned back to him, seeking his eyes. “I saw a man die.”

  Tom’s breath caught in his throat, and he dropped his gaze. For a second Annie’s eyes had been as he’d seen them in the vision—wide with horror. If they touched now, would they see that vision again?

  As if she’d read his mind, Annie reached out toward his hand but pulled back at the last second. She tried to disguise the aborted move by brushing nonexistent crumbs off the tabletop. He looked up to find himself staring into the cool, green intensity of her eyes.

  “Do you think it would happen again?” she asked.

  “I just asked myself that. I suppose we should find out.”

  Without taking her eyes off his, Annie reached out again, but this time she completed the motion. For a second, he felt the coolness of her touch and then …

  “You were promised to me.” He captures her chin between his thumb and forefinger, raising her mouth to meet his.

  “Take me with you. Anywhere.” She clings to him. “Can we leave now?”

  “I mean to take what is mine.”

  “Please … oh, yes, please …”

  Annie had pulled her hand away but not her gaze. Tom saw no evidence that her heart rocked as hard as his.

  “Nothing. Nothing happened.” He emphasized his denial with a shake of his head, but a remnant of desire roughening his voice threatened to betray the lie. He cleared his throat. “I guess it was just a one-time thing.”

  Annie nodded.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Tom saw two couples walk up to the cafe counter. Annie jumped up to serve them. As she hurried away, Tom stood. On legs that felt too weak to hold him, he walked toward the exit.

  Annie knew Tom had lied, but she understood why. These visions were too intimate to share with a stranger, and that’s all they were. Strangers. How could she have thought otherwise?

  After Annie served the customers, she glanced over to the corner table. Tom was gone. A moment of surprise washed away in a flood of relief. Closing her eyes, she relived the passion of the brief second vision. The woman had wanted to be with the man, knowing she shouldn’t. Knowing the danger in it. Knowing but wanting his love more than she feared the consequences. Flushed with desire held over from the vision, Annie admitted she was too close to feeling the same about Tom.

  The truth was she agreed to his lie about the second vision because she’d blurred the distinction between Tom and the man in the visions. The emotions she felt for that man had spilled over into reality. How else could she think she was in love with a man she knew nothing about? That was crazy thinking. She would not allow herself to fall in love with a total stranger. She would not.

  Until she felt the pain of her nails digging into her palms, Annie was unaware she’d clenched her fists.

  Smoking a cigarette and trying to clear his mind, Tom stood outside the theater for several minutes. This was not going the way he’d planned.

  (What exactly had you planned, Tom?)

  Nothing! He had planned nothing. He was like an idiot in gasoline-soaked clothes playing with matches.

  (Walk away, Tom old man, just walk away.)

  Annie hadn’t been at the theater when he’d stopped by that afternoon. That was his out. He should have left it at that. But no. He’d gone home from work, showered, ate supper with his wife and daughter, and then told them a bold-faced lie about needing to have drinks with a prospective client. What the hell was he doing here? He should be at home.

  (Walk away!)

  Ignoring the sane voice of his conscience, Tom dropped his cigarette to the pavement, ground it under his foot, and walked back into the theater.

  Despite the relief Annie felt when she thought Tom had left, her excitement returned as she watched him walk toward her.

  “Needed a smoke,” he said.

  She said nothing.

  “Look, I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I don’t think I can just forget about it, you know?”

  Annie nodded. “You lied about nothing happening this time. So did I.”

  “Yeah, I lied … and that’s a bad way to start out.”

  Though his last two words, implying they had a future together, thrilled her she kept her voice even. “I don’t think I introduced myself,” she said. “I’m Annie Garrett.”

  “Well, Annie Garrett, how late do you work tonight?”

  “I’m scheduled to close, but if you can hang around, I’ll be free to talk a lot of the time.”

  “Good enough,” he said. “I’ll just sit here and drink enough coffee to keep me awake for a week.”

  With each bit of conversation they exchanged as she worked, her defenses weakened. When she was able to sit with him for a while, she lost herself in the warm resonance of his voice, and the last of her resolve melted away.

  “I’ve worked in construction since I was sixteen.” He grinned. “I think I’m getting pretty good at it.”

  “I used to have a better job than this. I was in line to become the secretary to the president of First Bank,” Annie told him, “but I had to quit.”

  “Why?”

  She shook her head. “It’s a long story.” She wasn’t ready to talk about her disastrous marriage, yet, but the thought of marriage reminded her to check his left hand. Although she tried to be subtle about it, Tom must have followed her glance.

  “I’ve been married for twenty-three years,” he said, “and I have a daughter. She’ll be going off to college in the fall.”

  He didn’t name his wife or daughter. Did that mean they weren’t important to him? Earlier, when he suggested this was the start of a relationship, her heart had done a little somersault of joy. Now, with his admission of marriage, her heart turned leaden. Was it subconscious or deliberate that she’d neglected to look for a ring before now?

  He’d asked her a question. “Sorry. What did you say?”

  “I asked if you’re married.”

  “No,” she snapped. “Not anymore.”

  “Hey, I didn’t mean—”

  “I have a younger sister. Kate,” she said, the words racing past her lips. “She lives with me. We’re just about total opposites, so we squabble a lot, but really we’re very close.”

  Tom took her cue. “I have an older brother. We’re tight too. When I was fifteen, our mother remarried and made it obvious I was in the way, so Dave took me in and kept me on the straight and narrow. He moved to Alabama a couple of years ago.”

  “So there’s no one around to keep you in line now?”

  He grinned. “Actually, there is. I have a black Lab named Max who keeps me on a short leash.”

  Oh, yes. She was in love.

  The cafe customers came in waves, before and after movie showings, and while Annie waited on them, Tom stepped outside to smoke. He looked often at his watch, judging how much time he had left before heading home. Once, alone in the men’s room, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and stopped to force a closer look. He saw a man—okay, technically a middle-aged m
an—but still one who might be considered attractive by a beautiful younger woman.

  He spoke to his reflection. “You know, Old Man, as soon as you finish discussing those visions it’s back to your normal life.”

  Hadn’t he been honest with Annie and told her he was married? But why hadn’t she made any comment? Was it that she didn’t care that he was married because she had no intention of seeing him as anything other than a stranger with whom she’d had a strange encounter? Or was it because she had no qualms about seeing married men? Somewhere in the shadows of his mind, a voice tried to tell him the second option shouldn’t matter because he was a faithful husband. But Tom didn’t want to hear that voice tonight. He was stone sober but nonetheless intoxicated.

  Neither of them brought up the subject of the visions the rest of the night, and they didn’t touch again. They behaved like new friends getting to know each other, chatting about nothing important, but enjoying it. When Tom left at eleven o’clock, he had Annie’s phone number written on a napkin.

  During the drive home, he decided it would be best to park the truck in the driveway to prevent Julie waking when he opened the garage door. Then it occurred to him that if she were still awake when he got home, she would expect to smell alcohol on his breath. He stopped at a liquor store near his home and bought a beer. After he took a couple of swigs in his driveway, he tossed the empty bottle in the garbage can and wheeled it out to the curb for the morning pick-up. He’d already slipped his key into the front door lock before he remembered the napkin in his pocket.

  Tom returned to the truck and tucked Annie’s number behind the visor—not to hide it from Julie—but because he drove his truck every day and having it there was more convenient. At the last minute, he’d asked for her number because they’d never actually discussed the significance of the visions. Plus, he’d decided she would distract him less on the phone. When he had the time—in a few days—he would call her.

  *

  Julie pretended to be asleep when Tom came to bed, but she was far from it. Within minutes, his first soft snores filled the room. She curled tighter into fetal position.