I got out of bed, trembling. I was soaked with perspiration. I unbuttoned the
flannel pajama top and let it fall to the floor. The cabin was chilly. I opened
my small closet and looked for something warm. I grabbed a t-shirt and a wool
sweater. Putting them on, I headed down the hall.
I knew not to go to Sybil about the dream. It would be hard for me to talk
about it. Communicating was still an immensely exhausting activity, although
Jerry said that I was getting better at it every day. Besides, talking about
it would only upset her. For some reason, I found it much easier communicating
with Jerry than with Sybil.
I decided instead to make my way very quietly
to the front porch and sit there for a while. The sun would be up before too
long. I liked watching and listening as the forest slowly came to life. I�d
done it many times.
To my surprise, I found Jerry in the kitchen,
putting a tea kettle on. It was a good hour before either he or Sybil needed
to start warming up the grill and putting the coffee on. This time of year,
on a Thursday, we weren�t due for much breakfast business, anyway. There was
certainly no need to make such an early start.
�Morning, Sport,� Jerry whispered. �What you
doing up so early?�
I shrugged.
�Another dream?�
I shrugged again. Then, thinking better of it,
I gave a single nod.
Jerry looked at me for a long moment. Sybil�s
husband was a big man, bearded, and dressed as always in a flannel shirt, jeans,
and hiking boots. His face was deeply lined from years of working in the sun.
�Well, there you go,� he said after a moment.
�Tea?�
I shook my head.
�I thought I�d surprise your mom with a little
breakfast. What do you think?�
�Good�idea,� I said haltingly. There was no
point revisiting the fact that Sybil was not my mother. I cringed at the sound
of my own voice, much louder than it should have been.
Jerry laughed.
