Dr. Sara Alderson thought she was securing her and her family’s future when she moved them to a small town in New York and took a job as Chief of Pediatrics at the local hospital. Unfortunately, things aren’t going quite according to plan. For one thing, she has enemies at work who resent her from the moment she sets foot in the hospital.
For another, she’s visiting the dreams of an old man who’s seeing nightly visions of a storm that will wipe out the entire town. He’s convinced that the visions are true – and as winter closes in, Sara is starting to think he might be right.
Dream Home is the seventh book of the Dream Series.
Read an Excerpt:
Sure enough, when I poke my head into Lizzie’s room to say goodnight, she’s got a question. “Mom, do you think Peter Ralston likes me?”
I pull the door shut and sit on her bed; there’s really nowhere else to sit. Lizzie volunteered to take this bedroom because it’s got the biggest window, the best view and plenty of warm afternoon sun. But what it doesn’t have is space: it’s by far the smallest of the bedrooms.
How do I answer her? She’s just going to turn eleven next month, and on the one hand, that’s too young to even be thinking about this. But with Grace going boy-crazy, it’s only natural for Lizzie to start being interested in boys early, I guess. To buy myself some more time to think, I fall back on the age-old tradition of answering a question with a question. “I think the important thing to ask is, do you like him?”
She wasn’t expecting that, and she’s silent for a little while, mulling it over. She’s got the covers pulled up to her neck; only her head is peeking out from under her Little Mermaid sheets. She’s just a little girl, my baby.
But beneath those sheets is a budding young woman who’s already nearly as tall as I am. In a year, two at the most, she’ll have a bigger chest than I do – not that that’s saying much. And, she’s wearing her hair short in imitation of what’s-her-name, the dark-haired woman in “The Matrix.” Which, by the way, I still haven’t quite forgiven my brother for letting Lizzie watch, three months ago. I suppose I should be grateful Lizzie’s only copied the character’s hair and not her leather pants.
“I don’t know,” Lizzie says, finally. “He draws really well. You should see what he does in art class. He’s almost as good as I am.” That’s my girl! “And it’s nice the way he likes dogs. He doesn’t just help out because it’s his Mom’s shop, he really enjoys it. But,” she frowns a bit, “he is kind of clumsy. And he doesn’t wash his hair very often. You saw how yucky it looked today.” I don’t recall that, but I’ll take her word for it. “And, anyway, if he likes me, he ought to just say so. Right, Mom?”
I laugh; there’s really no other response to that. Then I lie down on the bed so that my head is right next to hers. “Well, I’ll tell you something, honey. What boys ought to do, and what they actually do, are two different things.”
“So what do I do?”
I’m not thrilled to be having this conversation before she even hits junior high, but, on the other hand, at least she’s asking me. I would never have asked my mother any of this. “You’ve got plenty of time to wait and see what happens. You want me to tell you a secret?” She nods, eyes wide. “I didn’t have a boyfriend until I was in eighth grade,” and that hardly counts. We never did anything more than hold hands, and even that was a rare thing. “And I didn’t kiss a boy until I was fifteen. There’s no rush.”
“I – I have a secret, too, Mom.” She whispers it, barely loud enough for me to hear. But I know what her secret is. I love that she thinks it is a secret, and also that she hasn’t just blurted it out already.
“Is it about Grace?” Her shocked expression is all the answer I need. “Is it about what happened two years ago, on the ski trip?” When Grace had her first kiss, with Beth’s nephew, David. Lizzie just nods. “She told me about it herself, the next night.” And I told her about my first kiss – and a lot of other things, too. She promised she wouldn’t tell Lizzie about our conversation, and she kept her word. “We had a long talk, that night. And I’ll tell you everything I told her, honey. But I don’t know if it’s time for that just yet.”
Lizzie looks both curious and apprehensive. She’s holding my eyes, though, not looking away. She wriggles out from under the blankets and throws her arms around my neck. I can see the little girl and the teenager-to-be fighting it out across her face. For tonight, at least, the little girl wins out. “Maybe – uh, maybe later, Mom? Maybe – I don’t know. I mean, I want to know, but…”
I kiss her forehead. “I understand completely, honey. You’ll know, when you’re ready to hear it. You come to me, and I’ll tell you everything I told your sister.”
“Thank you, Mom – Mommy,” she says, squeezing me tighter. “I love you!”
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