Falling Awake(4)
Author: Jayne Ann Krentz

The new clothes and fashion accessories were the least of her major purchases in the past year. The really big investment had been the furniture, all of which had come from Europe and all of which was currently still in the original packing crates and sitting in a rented storage locker because she had not yet found the Dream House.

She frowned at Ken. “Just because no one would publish Dr. B.’s research does not mean that his theories were crazy. Oh, I know what the staff said about him behind his back but you and the others should keep in mind that Dr. B. was your employer and he paid all of us very generous salaries.”

Ken winced. “You’re right. I suppose it would be more polite to call his theories ‘out of the mainstream.’ Anyhow, like I was saying, in my dream I’m in my car, heading toward the intersection. I can see another car, a red one, entering the intersection from the street on the left. I know that if I don’t stop, I’m going to smash right into the other vehicle. I can see people inside the other car. A woman and a kid. I want to yell at them to stop but I can’t—”

“But you know they can’t hear you and you can’t get your foot off the accelerator and there will be a terrible disaster if you don’t find a way to stop the car,” Isabel concluded, opening a drawer to remove her new designer shoulder bag. “We’ve been over this a dozen times, Ken. You know what’s going on as well as I do.”

Ken exhaled heavily and seemed to slump in on himself. The happy-go-lucky facade disintegrated. He rubbed his face in a weary gesture.

“The heart thing?” he said.

“Yes.” She straightened and met his eyes. Her own heart sank when she saw the veiled fear that lurked in his gaze. “The heart thing.”

“Yeah, sure.” He tried for a wry smile. “I knew that. Hey, I’m an expert on sleep, right? Dr. Kenneth Payne, neuropsychologist and fellow here at the Belvedere Center for Sleep Research. I know an anxiety dream when I see one.”

She walked toward him and came to a halt a step away. “I can only give you the same advice today that I gave you the first time you and I talked about the car dreams. Make the appointment with the doctor, Ken.”

“I know, I know.”

“You’re a doctor, yourself. What would you tell one of your patients if he was in your shoes?”

“My doctorate is in psychology, not medicine.”

“All the more reason you should realize that you can’t postpone this any longer. Make the appointment with the cardiologist. Give him your family medical history. Tell him that your father and your grandfather both dropped dead from heart attacks in their late forties. Get a thorough physical workup.”

“What if it turns out I’ve got the same genetic heart defect that killed my dad and granddad?”

“They died decades ago. You’re living in a different time and place. There are new therapies and treatments available for all kinds of heart problems these days. You know that as well as I do.”

“And if it can’t be fixed?”

She touched his shoulder. “The dreams aren’t going to stop until you know whether or not you inherited the genetic problem. That little kid you see in the car in the intersection? The one whose face you can’t quite make out? That’s the son you may or may not have someday; the one you’re afraid to have because you think you might pass along whatever it is that is killing the men in your family.”

His face tightened. “You’re right. I know it. I’ve got to act. Susan is starting to get restless. I can feel it. Last night she asked me if there was something I wasn’t telling her.”

“There is something you aren’t telling her. You’re afraid to tell her because you think it might scare her off.”

“What woman in her right mind would want to risk starting a family with a man who has a serious genetic defect?”

“Make the appointment. Find out whether or not you’ve got the defect. And if it turns out you do have it, find out if there is anything that can be done to fix it.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll make the call.”

She went back to her desk, found the phone beneath a jumble of papers and picked up the receiver. “Make it now.”

Ken looked at the phone with the expression of a man who has just been invited to pick up a deadly snake. Then he glanced at his watch. “I’m a little busy this morning. Maybe after my next meeting.”

“Make the call now, Ken, or don’t ever darken my doorway to ask for an analysis of any of your dreams again.” She held the receiver out to him, striving to sound as forceful and determined as possible. “I won’t listen to another one if you don’t call the doctor this minute. I mean it.”

He looked surprised by her tone but he must have sensed that she was serious. Slowly he took the phone from her with one hand. With his other hand, he removed a small notebook from the pocket of his white lab coat.

She looked at the notebook. “The doctor’s phone number?”

“Yeah.” His mouth twisted sheepishly. “I wrote it down, just like you told me last week.”

Relief lightened her spirits. “That was a good first step. Congratulations. Now, make the call.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He punched the number out with deliberate, methodical movements of one finger.

Satisfied that this time he was going to go through with the call to the doctor, Isabel went quickly toward the door. “I’ll check back with you after my meeting with the new Dr. Belvedere.”

“That reminds me, did you hear the latest rumors making the rounds this morning?”

She paused and looked back at him. Ken had finished punching out the number and was now sitting in her chair. He reached for the teapot on the table behind the desk. People did things like that when they came into her office, she reflected. They had no professional respect for the work she performed here at the center but they felt quite free to make themselves at home while they drank her expensive green tea and told her about the dream they’d had the previous night.

“What rumors?” she asked.

“Word is that Randy, the Boy Wonder, is convinced that he can turn the center into a hot acquisition target that will attract one of the big pharmaceutical companies.”

She had heard enough about the new director to know that “Randy, the Boy Wonder” was the nickname the staff had bestowed upon Dr. Randolph G. Belvedere, the old man’s sole heir.