Out of a Dream (Sandy Cove Series Book 1) Read online

  Out of a Dream

  Sandy Cove Series Book One

  Rosemary Hines

  Copyright © 2014 Rosemary Wesley Hines

  www.rosemaryhines.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

  Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

  Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only. This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is coincidental and not the intent of either the author or publisher.

  Formatting by 40 Day Publishing

  www.40daypublishing.com

  Cover photography by Benjamin Hines

  www.benjaminhines.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  To the One who promised He would redeem the years the locusts ate away. Thank you for rescuing me out of the miry pit of deception and planting my feet on your solid rock of truth.

  “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the father except through me.”

  ~ Jesus

  (John 14:7)

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  Through the Tears Preview (Sandy Cove Series Book Two)

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  BOOKS BY ROSEMARY HINES

  CHAPTER ONE

  March

  Sandy Cove, Oregon

  Michelle Baron’s heart raced, pounding in her ears. She panted, gasping for every breath. Her eyes searched for an escape. The passageway was dark and narrow. A faint beam of light flickered at the end. She fought the damp, suffocating air. Footsteps from behind made louder and louder slaps on the pavement. How much farther could her legs carry her?

  She felt a hand reach out and grab her shoulder. Spinning, she found herself staring into the face of a middle-aged man. His gray hair was tousled and his wrinkled face looked intense. The seriousness of his expression frightened her. “I’m Marty, Michelle. I can help you.”

  She shook her head in fear, turned, and ran.

  “Michelle...wait...Michelle....”

  If only she could get to the light….

  "Michelle! Hey, wake up! Are you okay?"

  A hand was on her shoulder again. She awoke in a sweat, her eyes darting like a hunted animal. The sound of the wind howling outside added to her disorientation as the rain beat in a steady pattern, like the footsteps which had pursued her.

  “It’s okay, Michelle.” Her husband pulled her toward himself.

  She reached for Steve and his embrace enveloped her. Clinging to him in the predawn darkness of their bedroom, she felt like a helpless child rather than a twenty-one-year-old newlywed.

  "It was the same, Steve. Just like last week.” Michelle shivered. “Where are these dreams coming from?" She clutched him like a life raft, searching his face for answers.

  Holding her around the shoulder with one arm, Steve reached over and flipped on the bedside lamp, gently pushing her long, dark hair off her face. "I don’t know, babe. I don’t know.”

  As he held her close, her breathing slowed. She began to relax as he cupped her face in his hands. “Maybe you should talk to someone about this. You know, someone professional."

  "Like a therapist? Do you think there’s something wrong with me, Steve?"

  "No, Michelle,” he replied with a loving but somewhat patronizing tone. “I just think that maybe a counselor could help you figure this out. I hate to see you going through this night after night."

  He arose from the bed and walked into the bathroom, adding under his breath, “Besides, I’ve got to get more sleep before these big briefings.”

  When he returned a moment later, he asked, “Did you have these dreams before we got married?”

  Michelle shook her head. “Not like this.”

  “Maybe it has something to do with me or being married.”

  “It’s not you, Steve.” She stared off into space, her brow furrowed as she automatically began twisting a small patch of hair at the nape of her neck.

  He sat down again beside her, reaching for her hand and gently guiding it away from the small clump of hidden, frayed hair. “I don’t remember you having any nightmares on our honeymoon,” he said softly.

  “Me neither.” Michelle looked up into his eyes and smiled slightly. “Like I said, it’s not you, Steve. It’s not the marriage.”

  “Well, what do you think it is?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the move. Maybe I just need to get used to living up here,” she replied, fighting off images of her family and friends down in Southern California.

  “I thought you were fine with this,” he said, lifting her chin with his finger so they were looking eye to eye. “You knew I’d be taking this job before we got married.”

  “Yeah. It sounded like an adventure at the time…”

  “So now you wish we hadn’t moved up here?” He looked concerned.

  “No.” She glanced away, tears beginning to pool in her eyes. “You just don’t get it,” she said softly.

  “You’re right, Michelle. But I’m trying.” He stood up and walked over to the closet.

  Their half-grown kitten, Max, jumped up on the bed beside Michelle. She took him into her arms and stroked his soft, multicolored hair.

  Steve started to walk back into the bathroom and then turned. “Hey, do you think these dreams might have something to do with that yoga class you’ve been taking?”

  Michelle bristled, her defenses rising. “No, Steve. Yoga helps you relax and get more centered.”

  “Just asking. You said there were some hypnosis things they were doing in that class.”

  “What? The guided imagery?”

  “Whatever you want to call it. Didn’t you say the teacher had you guys imagining some scene and going toward a light?”

  “What’s with you and my yoga class?” Michelle asked defensively, her early morning fear turning into aggravation.

  “Hey,” he replied, “I’m not the enemy here, okay? I’m just
trying to help you figure out these dreams.”

  Steve’s pragmatic side frustrated her. Couldn’t he understand how lonely she was since they’d moved so far away from her family and friends? He was busy at work all day pursuing a career he loved. She was left at home alone.

  “You were the one who suggested I take the spring semester off so that we could get settled. What am I supposed to do while you’re at work all day? My yoga class is the only thing I really have to look forward to during the week.”

  Sighing, Steve walked over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “You’re right, honey.”

  His soft reply caught her off guard. Michelle’s anger began to melt as she looked into his pale blue eyes. Ever since she met him at the university library, she was attracted to his gentle smile and his weathered and boyishly handsome face. At twenty-six years of age, he seemed so much older and more mature than Michelle and her classmates. But it was his eyes that captured her heart. They were able to gaze into her very soul.

  “Let’s do something special tonight,” he suggested, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I’ll try to get off early.”

  Michelle smiled tentatively and nodded. Giving him a kiss, she turned to grab her robe off the rocking chair and head downstairs to make the coffee.

  The cozy cottage decor of their kitchen had a mood-lifting effect on her, and the aroma of freshly brewing coffee soon filled the room. Before she could pour herself a cup, Max cornered her against the counter, rubbing across her legs and purring.

  She reached down and ruffled his fur. "What is it, Max? Are you hungry?" she asked, her voice still a bit shaky.

  Max mewed in response, his green eyes looking up plaintively into hers. She walked over to the cupboard and pulled out a can of cat food, and he immediately began prancing in circles, as if chiding her to hurry.

  After getting him settled with his breakfast, she peeked out the window over the sink to get a first glimpse of the new day. Heavy rain clouds blanketed their neighborhood, overshadowing a thin sliver of light on the horizon.

  When they first moved to Sandy Cove in January, Michelle had enjoyed the stormy Oregon weather. California was undergoing a warm winter drought, and she savored the opportunity to keep a fire going in the fireplace and snuggle beside it with Steve when he finally got home from work at night.

  By February the constantly dripping sky became monotonous. Now March looked to be much the same.

  She flipped on the television and listened as the weatherman predicted a full day of rain with moderate wind. “Oh brother,” she said in a low whisper, all joy drained from her voice.

  Though Sandy Cove was a quaint, likeable seaside community when warmed in the glow of a sunny day, for much of the year its atmosphere was one of persistent clouds and temperamental storms. Gazing outside, Michelle sighed. The weather matched her mood these days—restless, depressed, uneasy. She punched off the power button, silencing the news.

  Opening the bag of wheat bread, she walked over to the toaster and dropped two pieces inside. She checked the setting. Light. Pushing down the lever, she turned to the refrigerator for the butter and jam. Better hurry or Steve will leave without eating again.

  Michelle set the spreads beside the toaster, poured two cups of coffee, and carried them over to the table. Sitting down, she glanced at the unpaid bills standing in the napkin holder. Going from college coed to married homemaker was not all she’d hoped it would be.

  As she listened to the sounds of Steve upstairs and sipped her coffee, she indulged in a moment of reminiscing.

  The past ten months were somewhat of a blur. Steve’s initial constant attention and affections had quickly won her heart. The thought of marrying a law school graduate and moving to a new town in another state seemed so romantic and exciting as they discussed it at the Italian restaurant the night he proposed.

  Their breathtakingly beautiful Christmas wedding was the finishing touch on a fairy-tale romance. Michelle almost felt like she was floating above the congregation as she promised her life to Steve.

  “I should be happy,” she remarked with a sigh.

  After all, how many law graduates were offered a junior partnership right out of school? Steve’s uncle had been great. Retiring from his law practice in Sandy Cove to pursue his dream of writing legal intrigue novels, he had convinced his partner to bring Steve into the firm as his replacement. Knowing that the move would displace these Southern California natives, he’d also generously loaned them the money for a down payment on their house.

  So why wasn’t Michelle happy? Somehow she needed to shake the gloom she wore like a tattered shawl. If she could just get to the bottom of her dreams….

  “What are you thinking about?” Steve asked as he entered the kitchen.

  As if on cue, the toast popped up at the same moment, and Michelle walked over to butter it. “Just stuff.”

  “Any stuff I need to know?” Steve approached her from behind and wrapped his arms around her waist as he kissed the back of her head.

  Wanting to avoid rehashing their earlier conversation, she replied, “Just thinking about the night you proposed to me.” She turned and handed him the plate with the buttered toast.

  “Ahh, yes. Great lasagna,” he replied with a grin.

  “Leave it to a guy to remember the food.” Michelle’s eyes rolled as she gave him a faint smile.

  “Well, I’d love to sit here and stroll down memory lane with you, but—”

  “—but you’ve got to get to work,” Michelle interrupted, hoping her voice didn’t sound resentful.

  “You got it, babe!” Steve grabbed a piece of paper towel for his toast. “I’ll eat on the way. Could you pour my coffee into this?” He handed her his travel mug that had been sitting on the counter.

  She quickly transferred the coffee from the cup on the table into his thermal mug and sealed the lid. “Here you go, sir.”

  “I’ll see you tonight,” Steve replied, leaning over and giving her a good-bye kiss.

  As Michelle got ready to take her shower, she glanced at the unmade bed and shivered as she remembered her early morning episode. She knew that she needed to talk to someone about these dreams. But who?

  A warm shower washed away some of her anxiety, and she felt lighter as she slipped into her workout pants. The soft, gray fabric fit comfortably and flattered her tall, slim figure. A pale yellow sweatshirt contrasted with her long, wavy black hair that fell in cascades down the center of her back.

  Bending at the waist, Michelle brushed through the waves upside down. When she swung herself upright again, her hair fell perfectly in place creating a thick, shiny frame around her delicate face. Her hazel eyes carefully guided her as she applied lipstick and eyeliner. The final result was stunning.

  Many people had told her she should be a model. But walking down a runway or posing for a photo shoot scared her. Her shy nature preferred to hide comfortably in the background. While beauty was one of her God-given strengths, confidence was not. Besides, Michelle had a different career path in mind. She would be a teacher. Someday.

  Glancing at her watch, she realized it was about time to leave for yoga. “Monica should be here any minute,” she commented to Max, who was rubbing up against her leg.

  A moment later the doorbell rang. “Gotta go!” she added, turning and heading downstairs with Max at her heels.

  Out of habit, she peeked through the peephole before turning the bolt. There was Monica Nabors, her only friend in Sandy Cove.

  Opening the door, she thought about how much Monica reminded her of a friend from elementary school. Her rather plain face possessed a wide smile that rested between two dimples. It was her smile, Michelle decided, that gave her a certain air of familiarity.

  “How’s it going, girl?” Monica asked.

  For just a moment, Michelle flashed back to their initial meeting. It had been at their first yoga class. Plunking herself down on a mat next to her, Monica had thrust out her hand offeri
ng her name and a smile.

  Regaining her focus, Michelle replied, “Fine. How about you?” She pulled her jacket on and reached for her umbrella.

  “Other than Tony driving me crazy, I’m great!”

  Michelle laughed as they walked together out to the car. Monica’s husband, Tony, worked construction and there were too many days when the weather kept him cooped up at home. According to Monica, those were the days when she was glad to have her job at the drugstore.

  “How’s that lawyer of yours?” her friend asked, climbing into the driver’s seat.

  “Actually, I wish I had your problem. Steve’s hardly ever home.”

  Monica nodded and smiled. “Let’s trade!” she suggested with a grin. She had a disarming way of making Michelle feel comfortable and special. Though several years older than Michelle, they clicked well as friends.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Yeah. Right.”

  “How’s Tony’s mom?” Michelle asked as they approached the recreation center where the yoga class was held. Currently, Monica’s mother-in-law, Beth, was staying with Monica and Tony in the aftermath of her husband’s death.

  “She’s fine. Reads her Bible day and night. I’m not sure what she sees in those old stories, but they seem to comfort her.”

  Michelle just nodded, thinking about her grandparents and their solid Christian faith.

  As they walked into class, Bev Harrison, the instructor, nodded to them with an ethereal smile. Her gaze settled on Michelle. “Are you okay, dear?” she asked, her face showing concern.

  Michelle hedged for a moment or two, replying that she was fine. But after Bev persisted in her inquiry, she finally confessed the source of her anxiety.

  “Dreams are gifts, Michelle,” the teacher explained as Monica listened in. “You just need to understand their hidden messages. I know someone who can help you.”