The Multitude, стр. 36
Once they were alone again, her mother shot a glance around the restaurant and then leaned forward, like some character in a spy novel. “All right, Carla, here’s my inside voice. The women in our line have been blessed with amazing dreams.”
Carla caught her breath. “And you waited until now to tell me?”
“You’ve never said anything one way or the other about yours, so I assumed the trait stopped with me.”
“So what do you mean by amazing?”
“They seem every bit as real as this lunch we’re having. Conversations with actual people, journeys to other worlds—”
“You’ve visited other worlds?” Carla accidentally brushed her sleeve into her salad, but who cared about French-dressing stains at a time like this?
Her mother slumped away. “Not lately. Somehow, I’ve outgrown the ability to do that.”
“But you remember it happening?”
“I remember having two lives, one here and one somewhere else.”
“In the forest?” Carla barely heard her own whispered words over her pounding heart.
“I’m not sure. The point is, I’m not crazy and neither are you.” Her mother turned her attention to a bowl of chicken noodle soup.
Carla didn’t know whether to press the matter further or wait until a time when they might have more privacy. Her mother was perfectly capable of bouncing an exclamation of surprise off all four walls of the crowded restaurant if their notes about dreams matched. She decided to come at the topic from a different angle, a dream her mother would know nothing about. “I’ve started seeing someone.”
“Good. You’re more stable when dating.”
“I’m quite the handful otherwise, huh?” Although she’d been dwelling on her mental health for months, the comment still stung.
Her mother set her spoon down. “I was teasing.”
“Do you like being teased?”
Her mother reached across the table, patted Carla’s hand, smiled. Her eyes gleamed with genuine interest, perhaps even pleasure.
Carla forgave her.
“Tell me about this new man.”
“His name is Brewster DeLay.”
“That’s no ordinary name!”
“He’s no ordinary man. He writes novels that don’t sell, and he’s failing at his day job, but you’d think he was on the top of the world. I love his attitude. He’s always positive, funny, caring.”
“Handsome?”
“Uh-huh.”
Her mother broke eye contact and looked down at her hands. “You think I’m shallow for asking.”
“No, Mother, I think it’s time to get real. I’ve given my talisman to a man I only meet in my dreams.”
“The coin?” Her mother’s hushed question was spoken so sharply it managed to turn a few heads.
“Shh. Didn’t you hear the weird part? I’ve given an heirloom away to a shadow.”
Her mother turned to the window and stared with thousand-mile eyes. “You’ve given the talisman to someone special. I suppose that’s how it was meant to be used.”
English didn’t seem to be working. “He and I haven’t actually met in the traditional sense of the word.”
Her mother took her by the hands. “What are you talking about? I see true love in your eyes.”
And Carla had true love in her heart, but she was setting herself up to be crushed when the wormholes or whatever snatched Brewster away. “He might not be real!” She pulled her hands away. “We’ve only met in my dreams and not very often.”
“There’s something so sweet about love at first sight.”
“Mother, have you been listening to me?”
“Have you been listening to me? I’m sure the place I visited in my dreams was real. Yours must be, too!”
The notion was amazing, dizzying, validating. Terrifying. A chill ran down her spine. “What if the train is real?”
A shadow crossed her mother’s face.
“You think it might be?” Carla asked.
“No. I just… Did you ever get a sudden fright for no reason? I thought I remembered something, but I didn’t.”
“Well, here’s a reason for me to be scared, mother. I’m in a lot of trouble in another world. Two men are chasing me and—”
“But you found your hero!”
“He can’t help. He’s in a different place entirely.”
“Is he?”
“Are you suggesting he isn’t?”
Her mother went at her salad, took her time chewing a forkful, thinking the question over, perhaps. “Everything ties together somehow.”
Carla tended to tune her mother out when she got going down this path. With any encouragement, her mother would start talking about crystals or pyramids, witchcraft…as opposed to the likely conclusion they both suffered from some form of genetic instability.
The waiter returned to freshen their drinks. “Hey, are you sisters?”
“Don’t even go there.” She shot a look at her mother, fully ready to put her fork to good use if any more flirting went on.
The waiter wandered off, leaving them to brood in silence.
Eventually, her glass-half-full mother brightened. She motioned out the window. “Look at that! I can’t remember ever seeing lake snow this early.”
Carla turned to the window and lost herself in a swirl of white. The squall dissipated as quickly as it came, leaving a dusting of powder in its wake, then a burst of windswept leaves, then no sign she’d seen any snow at all. She wouldn’t let herself dwell on the possibility she’d imagined it. “I’ve been thinking about getting away for a few days to sort things out. Can you watch the store for me?”
“Now you’re thinking straight! The cabin would be the perfect escape for you. Remember how your father used to take us there to celebrate the first blizzard?”
“I was just a little girl.”
“Don’t ever let go of that.” Her mother’s smile didn’t quite hide the tinge of sadness in her eyes.
Carla had been planning a trip to Manhattan, but the thought of a brief detour to the Tug Hill Plateau carried plenty of appeal. She loved the nature walks and antique picking the area afforded. Not to