Free The Cure for Dreaming by Cat Winters Page A

temples beneath his curly brown hair. “The leech had wiggled out of the tube wrong and bloodied up the woman’s lip, so your father was trying to get the little bugger to travel down to her gums. His hands were smeared in bright red blood.”
    I lowered my shoulders and steadied my breathing. The fact that the blood was leech related and had nothing to do with fangs and lacerated throats was the best news I’d heard all day.
    â€œI STILL CAN’T BELIEVE HOW MANY TIMES YOU’VE READ
Dracula
,” said Frannie from beneath a hissing gas lamp in the dim hallway of my house. “One too many times, that’s for sure.”
    The soles of Father’s house slippers whispered their way from his office in the back. I kept my face turned toward the tan rug by the front door as long as I could, but then Franniegave my back a gentle pat, and I gained the courage to raise my chin.
    Father—regular Father, not the cadaverous fiend with the rat-fur beard—frowned at me in the hallway.
    â€œYou’re not reading that ghastly novel again, are you, Olivia?” he asked. “Haven’t you had enough of
Dracula
by now?”
    â€œYes.” I gulped down a nasty taste of bile. “Quite enough.”
    Carl stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. “You should come to supper again on Sunday, Livie,” he said. “Our parents are celebrating—what is it, Frannie?—their hundredth anniversary now?”
    â€œTheir twentieth,” said Frannie with a roll of her eyes at Carl’s exaggeration. “Yes, come. We’re planning to sit down at five o’clock. We’d love to have you join us.”
    â€œI’d love to be there. Thank you.”
    Carl opened the door to take his leave, but before following him, Frannie grabbed my hand and leaned in close with a whisper: “Come back to my house if you need anything else. At any time.”
    I mustered a weak smile. “Thank you.”
    They closed the door and went on their way.
    I stood with my back to Father, facing the exit through which my friends had just vanished while the cool taste of the outside air lingered on my tongue.
    â€œI was so worried about you this afternoon,” said Father in a voice cozy and warm with paternal concern.
    Despite his tone, I didn’t dare turn around.
    â€œWhy did you run away like that?” he asked. “You just left me standing there.”
    â€œWhat did you expect me to do?
Thank
you?”
    â€œNo—but you made me worry something had gone terribly wrong. Mr. Reverie assured me he found you. He said you had simply been spooked by your new view of the world. But still . . . I was troubled.”
    I stared at the door.
    â€œWhy won’t you turn around and look at me, Olivia? Do I look different to you?”
    I squeezed my eyes shut and swallowed. “I . . . um . . .”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI . . . I see the world . . . the way it truly is. The roles of men and women are clearer than they have ever been before.” I slipped my hands inside my warm coat sleeves and clung to the woolen lining. “I saw a storefront—women, suffrage—a cage.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI saw a cage.”
    â€œSuffrage is like a restrictive cage, you mean?”
    I pursed my lips. “All is well.”
    â€œYou understand your place in the world, then?”
    I opened my eyes and again peered at the door to the world beyond. “Yes. I understand precisely where I do and don’t belong.”
    Father breathed a sigh. “Thank heavens. It worked.”Another deep sigh, this one accompanied by a small belch. “Well, in light of this new outlook on life, I’ll be more than happy to allow you to accompany Percy Acklen to the party tomorrow evening. As long as you promise to be well behaved—and to represent our family with utmost care in front of both Percy and the