Forgotten Dreams by Eleanor Woods

isn't married and he's a journalist."
    "Oh, my!" The housekeeper beamed. "Having such a man next door will certainly be nice. I'll have to invite him over to dinner soon."
    And I'll be sure to make other plans when you do,
    Toni thought. "Is Aunt Sara feeling better after her nap?"
    "I'm not so sure," Mrs. D replied in a concerned voice. She paused in her dinner preparations and looked at Toni. "Brent and Susie did explain about the light strokes, didn't they?" At Toni's confirming nod, Mrs. D went on. "Well, I'm no doctor, mind you, but I think she's had another one."
    "Today?"
    "Within the last few days. She's not as alert as she's been, and I noticed when I was dressing her for dinner that she's favoring her right arm."
    "Shouldn't we call the doctor?" Toni asked, her concern apparent in her eyes.
    "I did," Mrs. D calmly assured her. "But since her regular visit is in the morning, and considering how upset she gets if a fuss is made, he suggested we not say anything. We're to watch her closely. If there are any sudden changes, then of course we're to call him."
    "Are you satisfied with that, Mrs. D?" Toni asked doubtfully. "I realize you've been with Aunt Sara for over thirty years and probably know her better than her family does. Do you think having the doctor out to see her would upset her?"
    "Very much so, honey," the older woman said patiently.
     
    "At her age, it becomes a matter of intense pride for her to think she's still in control of her life. Your aunt has been blessed. Though she's not as sharp as she once was, on her good days she's amazingly alert." She patted Toni on the shoulder. "Don't worry so; she'll be fine. You scoot to your room and get dressed for dinner. It's almost six o'clock and Sara doesn't like to be kept waiting."
    Toni did as she was instructed, pausing briefly at the door of the room that Aunt Sara always referred to as the sitting room. She peered in, looking for the tiny figure of her aunt, and smiled with relief when she saw that seemingly indomitable lady sitting in a large chair, her back ramrod straight. Her ebony cane was leaning against an arm of the chair and Aunt Sara was intently watching a noisy western.
     
    Toni turned and walked to her room, the sound of bullets flying and horses pounding through Dry Gulch Canyon echoing in the background.
    As she removed a long skirt and a blouse from the large armoire that served as a closet, she found her thoughts centering on Christian Barr. Seeing him there at Cartlaigne had been one of the biggest shocks of her life.
    What can he possibly be doing in Natchez? she wondered as she undressed and stepped into the shower. She would have thought that his kind shunned quiet, sleepy rural towns for the more flamboyant life of the
    larger cities. In his career he'd covered civil uprisings in foreign countries and interviewed some of the highest officials in the land. What was there in Natchez to compare with that?
    But it wasn't so much his professional interest that had her mind swirling. It was the man himself. He possessed a certain charisma; a smoldering sense of excitement surrounded him. Despite herself Toni had to admit that he was an unusually intriguing man.
    She stepped from the shower and reached for a towel, a dark frown on her face as she wondered how best to avoid her new neighbor. Moving hurriedly, she entered her bedroom and began to dress. "I only hope he isn't seriously injured from his bout with that damn goat," she muttered as she donned fresh underwear, then slipped into the skirt and blouse she'd laid out earlier. "On second thought," she said with an evil grimace, "it would be a novel experience to see the infamous Mr. Barr pitted against Aunt Sara. There's no doubt in my mind who the winner would be."
    With genuine amusement, Toni wondered if her aunt could still be persuaded to make use of her old twelve-gauge shotgun, an item that in years gone by had done a great deal to enhance the old woman's reputation as an