Once Again by Amy Durham Page B

jeans, a baby pink tee shirt, and a navy blue sweater that I
could button up if necessary. Because, this was Maine after all,
and September nights got chilly. I also settled on my brown leather
slip on boots. They weren’t cowgirl boots or anything, but I
decided it would be a nice testament to my southern heritage, since
they did look like they were ready for mucking stalls or driving a
tractor.
    Neither of which I’d ever done.
    Walking through the parking lot toward my
car, with the sky overcast and the breeze just this side of cool, I
realized that somewhere between lunch and now, I’d decided to be
excited after all.
    Then I saw Miller-the-idiot standing next to
my Honda.
    Great. My mood was now sour.
    “Layla,” he said. “I wanted to
apologize.”
    I should be forgiving, I knew. But he’d
embarrassed me so much that forgiveness was hard to find.
    However, it had kicked off whatever it was
that was going on between Lucas and me, so I supposed I should be,
if not grateful, at least somewhat accepting.
    “Okay.” I stopped at the front of my car, not
willing to walk in the narrow space between it and the SUV parked
beside me. It would put me much too close to Miller.
    “I was a stupid jerk,” Miller went on. “I’m
surprised Luke didn’t punch me. But that wouldn’t be like him.”
    “Yes, you were a jerk,” I replied, my
attitude softening at the mention of Lucas. “But I guess we all can
be sometimes, so I’ll accept your apology.”
    “Good,” he nodded, backing out of the space
between the vehicles. “I’ll see you later.”
    He took off in the direction of the football
field, gym back slung across his back.
    Well, would wonders never cease?
    ***
    At home, I was so keyed up I could barely sit
still. I ironed my clothes and laid them out and freshened up my
make up, but that only managed to kill about an hour. I wasn’t
expecting Jessie to pick me up for another two hours. I decided I
could use some mellowing out, so I grabbed my iPod and curled up on
my bed.
    I really wanted to be smooth and cool about
the whole situation. I hated that I was tied in knots.
    I only meant to relax, to get my mind off the
intense anticipation I felt about seeing Lucas at the game. But the
subtle jazz sounds drifting through my consciousness soon had me
dozing.
    At first, I knew I was dreaming. The pictures
in my mind were all of lovely places in Sky Cove, and I saw them
all as if I was flying above the town, just high enough to see
everything, but not so high that I couldn’t see the details.
    When my flight took me over Old Birch Lane,
the autopilot that was choosing my direction stopped and hovered
over Emerson’s Antiques. At first, I saw the silver sedan, and knew
Ashley was inside working.
    My lips curved into a smile when I remembered
seeing Lucas there. As if taking instructions from my thoughts, I
felt myself being lowered to the ground behind the house, directly
outside the window to the back room.
    I watched from outside as Lucas and I talked
about the paperweight he chose for his mother. It was the strangest
feeling, standing outside the house, yet seeing myself inside.
Dreams really could play tricks on you, couldn’t they?
    As the thought entered my mind, the image in
front of me changed. Suddenly I no longer saw Lucas and myself as
we were that day in the antique store. Instead, I saw the versions
of us from my previous dream.
    The room wasn’t filled with shelves of
antiques, but was instead almost barren. A miniature wooden table
sat off to one side of the room, with two plain chairs. What looked
to be a wood stove was on the opposite end.
    We were worried about something, Lucas and
me. I couldn’t hear our voices, but I could see the concern on our
faces. Tears streamed down my face as Lucas did his best to console
me.
    I knew something was terribly wrong. In my
heart I knew Lucas was trying to leave. Not because he didn’t love
me, but because he believed it was necessary to keep me safe.