Free Swift by Heather London Page B

to show me something.
    After a few minutes, it was clear to me that I was not going to fall back to sleep. The possibility that something could be wrong with me haunted my every thought. I was not sure what the dreams meant, but they had to be a sign that something was wrong with me. It could have something to do with the ten-year anniversary of their deaths, I guessed. Regardless, the irrational thoughts crept into my head and the idea of me having some crazy disease took over. I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands then threw the covers off, deciding there was only one way to really calm my fears. I got up and planted my butt in front of the computer, opened up a search engine, and typed in “brain tumor.”
    After a couple hours of research, I felt no more secure about what possible condition I may or may not have had than I did before I had started. Giving up on research, I walked back to my bed and buried myself underneath the covers. Who was I kidding? There was no way I was going to be able to go back to sleep.
    After pulling myself out of bed, I took a shower and tried to push all the negative thoughts out of my head. All of my concentration would be needed at work (I had proved yesterday that I couldn’t handle carrying a stack of books without making a total fool out of myself). My morning routine started out the same as the previous day: a quick breakfast followed up by packing myself a sandwich for lunch then out the door and off to work.
    Work was different that day. Slower. Way slower. Too slow. The day dragged by, and each time I looked at the clock, hoping the little hand was close to the five, it had barely moved since the last time I’d checked. Also, the day was different because Blake didn’t show up. Even though I hated admitting it to myself, I wanted him to. I wanted to see him again. I yearned for it, but I wasn’t sure why. He was incredibly good-looking, mysterious, and maybe just a little bit arrogant, but he seemed to have another side to him. Not that it mattered, because he never showed. Not the next day, or the next.
    The rest of the week at work went by with no major events. But I shouldn’t have been surprised—I was working at the library in Marblehead after all. There were also no more nightmares or headaches, so no need to worry Aunt Rose about it. I was cured.
    Saturday morning came and I woke early. I tried to cover my head with my pillow in order to block out the sun in hopes of getting another hour of sleep, but it didn’t work.
    Aunt Rose was up, reading the paper and sipping her coffee, when I walked downstairs to the kitchen. “Good morning. You’re up early. There’s more coffee, if you’d like some.” She pointed with her free hand toward the half-empty carafe.
    “Thanks,” I responded as I reached for a cup and poured myself some coffee.
    “Hey, it’s my day off and I have a few errands to run. Would you like to join me? We haven’t been able to spend a lot of time together lately. Things have been so hectic at the hospital. And I still owe you a congratulatory lunch, remember?” She looked at me with a hopeful expression, and I couldn’t resist. Not that I had had anything else to do that day.
    “Yeah, sounds great,” I answered, pulling out a spoon and stirring some cream into my cup.
    After drinking two cups of coffee, I felt reenergized … and that was a good thing, because I needed it. Aunt Rose was not kidding when she had said she had a few errands. We went to the dry cleaners, pharmacy, and nail salon. She begged me to get a mani-pedi with her, but I politely declined and just sat and talked with her while her nails were filed and polished. Then there was my congratulatory lunch. From the moment we got there, she probed me with questions about my travels at the end of the summer. Honestly, I had thought after revealing the information to Jack the other night that she would let up a bit, but it seemed to have had the opposite effect. She quizzed