Chapter Thirty-One

Jesse

The kitchen smells like fresh bread and coffee. Charlotte walks in, shocked to see me with a washcloth over one shoulder, an apron around my waist. Little does she know I have been learning from Collin how to cook for months. I want to be able to eat on the road without having to dine out, and the boys have been talking about getting vacation houses rather than hotels.

I shut the oven door and go to her, sweeping her up in my arms and kissing her deeply. She giggles as I set her back down on her feet, her heels clicking on the linoleum. I don’t recognize this kitchen, yet I know it. It’s home, but it’s not the ranch. Where I am, though, is home. I live here with Charlotte. And soon, more.

Kevin is in the living room with his girlfriend. He is picking at his guitar, working on a tune I wrote in my sleep. He comes over often and stays in the guest room. We write music and record in the basement. Charlotte brings us snacks and beer while we work.

I tell her I have a surprise for her, and she laughs in delight. She sits at the kitchen table and closes her eyes. I take a box out of a drawer, and when she opens her eyes again, I have opened it. Inside is a key. She is confused, and I laugh, taking her hand and leading her outside. I turn and show her the house. I tell her that it’s ours. The whole world is ours. And the whole world exists in that home.

Her face drops, and she nearly bursts into tears. What about my job? I tell her not to worry. She can travel all she wants. But home will always be home. And it can be anywhere.

She relaxes into my arms, and we go back inside. The house is full of people now. All my brothers. Amber, the Millers, everyone. We sit at the table and eat fresh bread and grapes and salted meat. It’s Thanksgiving, and turkey appears as if by magic. Charlotte is now in a dress with turkeys on the bottom. I love her. I love her so much.

We drink and enjoy our life with our family and friends. They leave, one by one, and then it is just us. But not for long. No, not for long at all. A baby is living inside her. The next generation of the Galloways. I take her hand and walk outside, and we are at a venue. I take her with me onto the stage in front of thousands of screaming fans. I sing to her. I sing to the baby. When the song is over, I pull her to me, and our lips press against each other once again.

I close my eyes.

I opened my eyes.

It felt so real, and yet, in those few moments of being awake right after a dream, I can see the moments that didn’t make sense. The random changes of time and space, the way things suddenly appeared and disappeared. It was just a dream. But a good one. A really, really good one.

I tried to move but found myself unable to. I was tucked in tightly in the bed, and there was no wiggling out of it without thrashing, and I wasn’t in a position to thrash just yet. Everything hurt too much.

Charlotte was asleep on a cot at the end of the bed. I could just see her hair and the bottom of the cot. Kevin and his girlfriend were also there, in chairs along the wall, their heads resting against one another. Kevin was snoring. I’d heard that snore all too often in the last fifteen or so years. It was like a wet chainsaw.

Cool air touched my fingertips, and I realized I wasn’t as tucked tightly in as I thought I had been. Wiggling my fingers until my hand came loose, I was able to pull it out completely and reach over to the other side, freeing my other arm. A remote device hung just over my shoulder, and I touched it, pulling it so I could see it. A button to make the back lift up into a seated position was at the top, and I touched it.

Silently, the bed shifted, and I had to stop. The pain was immense. But I wanted to sit up. I wanted to be awake. I’d been asleep for so long. I felt like I’d been asleep for a decade.

I pushed the button again and let it slowly bring me to a seated position, gritting my teeth through the pain and hoping I didn’t catch any wires or tubes in the folding mattress. When I was sufficiently sitting up, I glanced around the room again. Everyone was asleep, despite the dim daylight outside. It must have been another long day for them.

A notepad was sitting on the table beside me, and I grabbed it and the pen on top. Then I took the drink and sipped down the water until there was nothing left. It was the greatest thing I’d ever tasted in my life. Simple water.

I opened the notepad, an idea forming in my mind. A snippet of the dream was still bouncing around in my head. A song lyric that wouldn’t go away. A hook to go with it. I had to write it down.

The notepad was one of Charlotte’s, and I flipped to an empty page. Carefully, I took the pen and made the first mark on the paper, the excruciating pain becoming more manageable the longer I used it. It took everything out of me, but I got the lyric down, and then a few more to go with it. A verse and a chorus. It wasn’t a lot, but it was something. Something productive.

Content that the song of my dream had been given the breath of life by being written down, as if my guitar was a golem, just waiting for sheet music to bring it to life, I laid back in the chair and pushed the button to lie back down again. I didn’t go all the way down, though. Just most of the way. I still wanted to be a little bit upright.

Slowly, I drifted back to sleep, though this time no dreams came to me. No houses or concerts or Thanksgiving dinners filled my mind’s eye. Just darkness and the passage of time. When I awoke, it was morning yet again. The bright sunshine coming through the folds of the curtain were blindingly bright. I shifted in my seat to see Charlotte, across the room. She had the notepad in her hand and was reading something.

I knew what she was reading.

I smiled.

She put the notepad down and looked up at me, seeing me awake for the first time. She smiled back at me. Standing and crossing over, she bent down and placed a soft kiss on my lips.

“Good morning,” she said. “I’m so glad to have you back.”

“I’m glad you came back too,” I said.