He Followed Me Home

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Francine woke the next morning and rubbed her sleep filled eyes as she frowned and thought back on her dreams. She had always had strange dreams about the past. Dreams that truly made her feel as if she were living during a different time. Whether it was fifteenth century Scotland in a large stone castle, or eighteenth century England with dukes and earls, the dreams were often so detailed that they seemed real and she had had them all countless times.

Dining with kings, dancing with earls; she had done it all in her dreams. But the dream she had just before she had awoken had been a new one and she blamed it on her recent interest in the Civil War.

She had been walking through a field of corpses with other women carrying a bag full of her father's medical supplies. Her father was gone with the troops so she had taken over his duties.

She was fairly certain it was Vicksburg, Mississippi that she had been in. The soldiers had been dressed in both blue and gray. The women did not care which color the men wore, they were simply trying to find anyone that was still clinging to life so that they could try to heal them. Hoping desperately to fix some of the damage that this war had caused. When men got in fights it was always the women that suffered.

Hundreds of women walked across that death filled ground, their lanterns swinging in the fading light as they searched the lifeless faces for their loved ones and prayed they wouldn't find them. The scents that had filled the air had been overwhelming. Blood, death, infection, gunpowder and smoke all clogged out the oxygen and made it difficult to breath.

Francine had broken away from the small group of women she'd been walking with. Her feet seemed to be drawn to a certain spot, to a certain set of bodies. She walked straight to a man lying on his stomach in blood covered blue wool and with shaking hands she flipped him over.

That was when her dream had taken a very disturbing turn. She had recognized the man lying in the blood stained grass. His dark hair had been stiff and sticky with the red stuff that seemed to be everywhere. His face was pale and drawn. His eyes were closed but she knew if they were to open they would be a piercing green.

Wyatt. It was Wyatt and it was clear that a bullet had torn through the side of his ribs and pierced his heart. She had walked away from him, certain that it was already too late to save him. She had walked away and suddenly she was watching Wyatt but it was as if now she was watching a movie instead of seeing it with her own eyes. As soon as she had walked away, Wyatt had taken a shallow, wet sounding breath....

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

Francine gave a startled jump and sat up quickly to see Wyatt standing in her bedroom door holding yet another Starbucks cup of coffee. "Oops, I guess you have," he added with a smile.

Francine smiled back but it seemed that Wyatt could tell it was forced because he crossed the room quickly, sat the coffee on the bedside table and crouched in front of her with his arms draped across his knees.

"Are you okay, Franny?" he asked gently.

She nodded, "Of course. I think we've already covered the fact that I am not a morning person."

Wyatt frowned. Something was wrong with her, "Bad dream?"

She rolled her eyes and grabbed her coffee off the table, "It was nothing," she assured him. "I have odd dreams from time to time."

She glanced over at the clock and realized it was nearly nine in the morning, "I'm going to be late!" she exclaimed as she jumped from the bed. Wyatt stood and quickly took several steps back to avoid contact even as his eyes took in the sight of her. She was wearing nothing but a thin black satiny nightgown. The straps were thin and the neckline was cut low and lined with black lace. The hemline stopped just below the curve of her backside and it was lined with black lace as well. Her body was long and willowy and Wyatt had never seen a vision more perfect than the one she presented.