Another Dream
Oct. 31st, 2006 08:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lvpd_sidleIt stands to reason that since she had one dream (was it really just a dream?), Sara would have another.
She opened her eyes, taking in the familiar shoreline outside of the bed and breakfast. She was resting against a tree she had claimed as her own when she was five or six years old. Breathing in deeply, taking in the humidity, the salty tang of the air, feeling both homesickness and muted devastation.
"Sara! Come inside and help me with the cinnamon rolls!"
"Coming, Mom," she said obediently, automatically, heading into the two-story house. The kitchen was cheery--almost too cheery. The scent of cinnamon, yeast, and icing was too prevalent for her to check for blood, as she had ever since That Night.
She capitalized the words even in her own mind.
"Careful, sweetheart, it's hot."
"I know." She reached for oven mitts and her mother grabbed her left hand.
"Sara!" The shock and joy in Laura Sidle's voice could plainly be heard. She smiled widely, and Sara returned the grin.
They had each others' smile.
"Is he good to you?" Does he hurt you?
"So good, Mom. He loves me.......he would never hurt me. Never." The words are quiet, but heartfelt.
Laura pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Good. I knew you would do well for yourself. I'm so proud of you, Sara."
She ducked her head, busying herself with the tray of cinnamon buns. "Thanks, Mom." If her voice was rough for a moment, both ignored it.
"Let me pour us some coffee and let's have some breakfast. I want to hear more about this man."
"Well for starters, I met him completely outside of work....."
When she woke up this time, Sara's pillow wasn't wet.
And she was smiling.
She opened her eyes, taking in the familiar shoreline outside of the bed and breakfast. She was resting against a tree she had claimed as her own when she was five or six years old. Breathing in deeply, taking in the humidity, the salty tang of the air, feeling both homesickness and muted devastation.
"Sara! Come inside and help me with the cinnamon rolls!"
"Coming, Mom," she said obediently, automatically, heading into the two-story house. The kitchen was cheery--almost too cheery. The scent of cinnamon, yeast, and icing was too prevalent for her to check for blood, as she had ever since That Night.
She capitalized the words even in her own mind.
"Careful, sweetheart, it's hot."
"I know." She reached for oven mitts and her mother grabbed her left hand.
"Sara!" The shock and joy in Laura Sidle's voice could plainly be heard. She smiled widely, and Sara returned the grin.
They had each others' smile.
"Is he good to you?" Does he hurt you?
"So good, Mom. He loves me.......he would never hurt me. Never." The words are quiet, but heartfelt.
Laura pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Good. I knew you would do well for yourself. I'm so proud of you, Sara."
She ducked her head, busying herself with the tray of cinnamon buns. "Thanks, Mom." If her voice was rough for a moment, both ignored it.
"Let me pour us some coffee and let's have some breakfast. I want to hear more about this man."
"Well for starters, I met him completely outside of work....."
When she woke up this time, Sara's pillow wasn't wet.
And she was smiling.
