A Ghost of a Chance by Evelyn Klebert

things had been different?”
    “ Without question my boy,” she said without hesitation. There was a different expression in her clear, blue eyes – one that he found difficult to read. And then she repeated, “without question.”
     
    It was three’ o’clock in the afternoon, but Hallie had pulled down all the shades in her bedroom until the interior had the appearance of dusk. She had taken the phone off the hook and had put on her most comfortable pajamas. Of course, she realized that it was somewhat ridiculous to consider sleep at this time of day. But she also realized that there was no course for her now, except this one. Whether or not this was a rational course was not the issue.
    Jack curled up in his doggy bed near the door where she’d placed it. She was grateful that he was taking the hint that it was naptime. It seemed better to keep him near so that he wouldn’t be agitated by her absence.
    She stretched out on the bed and closed her eyes. “All right Jack, if dreamland is the only way I’m going to find you, then here I come.”
    He lay down next to her on the bed, hopeful and determined that he could deliver what she was after.

 
    CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    Hallie awoke from reality. Looking around and slowly allowing it to sink in, absorbing the impact of where she found herself, left her feeling distractedly gratified and somewhat cautiously pleased with her accomplishment. There was no question that this was a dream, but it was unlike any other dream she could remember having. This dream was the product of a conscious creation, an active choice to be here. She smiled, relaxing a tad. It was here, all hers, even down to the specific place.
    Not because she particularly liked it here. In fact, she was developing an acute distaste for the environment. But this place was a touchstone. It was where she’d seen him, the man she sought.
    The Mexican waiter who had just approached her smiled broadly; “Will you be dining alone ma’am?”
    She shook her head, “No,” and then tentatively added, “At least I hope not.”
    He ushered her with exaggerated flourish to a corner table. Her eyes scanned the restaurant. It was indeed Monica’s favorite Mexican joint, La Casa Grande, but there were subtle differences. The atmosphere felt quiet, more sedate tonight, unlike the raucous place that she remembered. These were Hallie’s touches, her influence. For the first time, she glanced down and became aware of what she was wearing. It was her red dress, the pretty one. The one she had saved for that special sometime. Evidently this might be just that special night, bizarre as the circumstances were.
    “ Can I get you a margarita ma’am?”
    She considered carefully, “No.” She must maintain a specific mood, “I think tonight I’d rather just have a glass of white wine.”
    “ Yes Ma’am,” and then he was gone, and she was left with her own thoughts for company. She looked around pensively, the first flush of success beginning to dim a bit.
    There were a few couples in the restaurant, but they were seated far from her, nearly not even touching the fringes of her reality. None of them remotely resembled the man from her dream, Jack. She turned the name over in her mind, Jack – and then again hmm, Jack? Here she was, having another dream, hoping that he’d show up.
    The soft lilting music of a mariachi band was playing in the background. The stage was certainly set. Everything seemed to be going without a hitch. All was well. She was in control of the moment. She took a breath and held it for what seemed like an eternity, and then let it escape in a deep rattling sigh. A wisp of panic trailed across her heart. It was more than possible that she would spend the evening here in control all by herself. What if this whole thing was a delusion on her part, and she was just certifiable?
    Hadn’t Edward once accused her of having a thin grip on reality? Didn’t this just support all his accusations of her?