Too Far From Texas

Chapter Twelve

The rain pelted on the windshield, nearly drowning out the sound of the classic Fleetwood Mac song that played through the speaker. I rode in the backseat, looking out the window at the wet pavement as I tried my best to sing along, but for some reason no words escaped my lips.

Well I've been afraid of changing...

Perhaps I was only singing in my head.

I looked down at the handkerchief hem skirt I wore, my knees covered in black tights, my legs adorned with camel colored platform boots. It wasn't what I'd wanted to wear, not on a special day such as this, but then again the weather was not ideal either.

I felt a gentle pressure on my hand, and I looked down at our joined hands between us, watching the cross that inked his move as he stroked his thumb back and forth.

Time makes you bolder...

"Are you happy?" I heard him say.

Again, I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

"What's the matter?"

Only after his question did I notice the tears. They weren't happy tears. If they had been, I would have smiled, lifted my head and looked at him. I was paralyzed, only able to move my head to look at the rain, and then back to our hands.

"Stacey." That wasn't his voice. Had it switched? "Are you happy?"

Finally able to lift my head, I looked up at his face. Not the face I'd wanted. Not the face I'd expected to see.

Still, I was unable to reply. At least not with words. Only with my tears and light, shaky sobs.

"Stacey," he said again, only this time he sounded far away. "Stacey! Baby!"

I felt his hand shaking me awake before I was truly awake. I opened my eyes to near darkness, the bit of light through the blinds creating a halo behind his head like the angel that he was. I could hear the rain hitting the window and the roof, ideal sleeping weather under normal circumstances. I stared at him for a minute, my chest heaving as I tried to steady my breathing. His hand remained on my shoulder, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"W-what?" I managed to sputter, swallowing hard. My throat was dry and I felt like I'd been swimming laps in a pool of sand.

"You...you were dreaming," Harry said softly.

"Oh."

"You were crying in your sleep."

"I'm sorry," I croaked, rolling over onto my side.

"Baby..." he sounded, taking me into his arms. "Oh, baby, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," I lied.

"You're trembling, my love. Please, tell me what's wrong."

"Just a bad dream, Harry. Go back to sleep."

"No. Stacey. Talk to me."

I remained silent as he brushed my hair back with his fingers. I felt his breath on my forehead just before he kissed it, trying his best to calm me.

"You had a nightmare in New York, too."

I nodded.

"Do you have them often?"

I nodded again, my hands finding his torso and wrapping them around it. Harry pulled me closer, my cheek pressed to his chest. I felt him breathe in and out as he gathered his thoughts.

"What are they about?" he asked hesitantly.

"Different things."

"Like what?"