Aevum of Itero

Chapter 10

He had previously held the belief that one could never indulge in enough novels.

That was before the dreams.

They rocketed at him nightly: dreams of Ireland as seen in Web images; dreams of Brenda. He chalked it up to his inability to see Brenda the closer the play drew near; why he had begun to constantly dream of the Brenda she had been.

He saw her, wringing out soaked shirts to hang on a clothesline. He always reached out, wanting to help with her chores, wanting her to lean on him when she looked out at the horizon. A sad longing crossing over her soft features practically slapped him each time.

She couldn't be sad.

Itero had said Brenda was happy.

She was happy, wasn't she?

Monaghan had to be nearby. He wouldn't leave his pregnant wife alone, would he?

Dylan couldn't imagine leaving Brenda to the chores herself whilst she baked two children within her womb.

If he were the father, he would do his damnedest to coax Brenda into a break, pull her into his arms and bask in the joy of his Brenda, carrying his child.

"Brenda," he said each time. She stared into him, eyes confused but never seeing.

Unfocused. Lost. Full of all the unspoken - and spoken - words that had come between them.

"Dylan?" she asked as if she knew he stood close to her.

"Yeah. Baby, here. Take my hand. Feel me."

She wouldn't - or, perhaps, couldn't - look at him when she reached out.

Their hands danced in the air, consistently missing the other.

"Dylan, where are you?" Brenda would call out, her voice raspier, deeper than it had been in London. Changed by age, by continental moves, whilst her appearance had barely changed at all. "I hear you. I know you're there. I can't see you. I can't touch you. They're looking for you; Steve, David. They're all worried. Maddie misses you. Dylan, where have you gone? Is Kelly really worth all of this?"

"Kelly?" A new question Brenda hadn't asked in the other dreams. "What does Kelly have to do with this?" he asked.

"You're rewriting time," Brenda answered solemnly, "to be with Kelly in every life."

"No, Bren. God, is that what you think?" All he could do was brush his hand over the air and pray that she understood the reason for the wind somersaulting in her direction. "I'm rewriting time, to be with you. All of my mistakes, every fuckup I made in life and love, the fairies have given me the chance to redo it all."

"It's too late, Dylan. I've done something."

"I don't accept that, Bren. Not this time. Nothing you've done means it's too late for us, not when we've been given this do-over. We'll be together, and I'll fight to keep us together."

"You can't keep us together; not after what I've done."

"What did you do, baby?" Goddamn fucking air. He just wanted to hold her hand, to feel her smooth, thirtysomething skin against his. To know that for however long she remained in his dreams, he could pretend Connor Monaghan didn't exist, that the ring on her finger wasn't purchased by Monaghan. "Whatever it is, we can handle it."

He heard a voice: a strong, male, Irish voice.

Connor Monaghan's voice, most likely.

Missed him, I'm afraid. Cassidy said he left Kerry for Galway.