“I think I’ll go back to my apartment now. I’ve had enough fun for one night. I’m sorry I messed up the meeting.”

“Don’t worry about that. You heard the doctor, though. You shouldn’t drive, Carrie Jo. I’ll take you home. You say it’s not far?”

“No, it’s not far, over near Catherine Street, but I don’t want to leave my car here. And I don’t want to be any more trouble.” I tried to think of a good reason to refuse but couldn’t really find one beyond leaving my car behind.

“It’s the least I can do. You did trip on my property. I’ll take you home, and then either Matthews or I can bring your car to you later. Let’s find your things. And I’ll need those keys.”

He sounded so assured and logical that I didn’t put up a fight. I forced Muncie out of my mind and set about looking for my purse and keys. I found them on the desk in the front room with the check I had so happily received earlier.

The ride home was quiet and short, only three turns. On a sunny day, I could make the walk from Seven Sisters to the garage apartment in about ten minutes, I figured. I looked forward to that. The roads were uneven and dark, despite the many streetlights. Most of the downtown streets I had seen were shrouded in live oaks, giving the whole area a sort of otherworldly feel. No wonder I’m dreaming of the old days, I thought wryly. I’m surrounded by history.

I was thankful Ashland hadn’t encroached on my silence. It took a lot of effort to not rewind the dream in his presence, slowly, carefully, reliving each detail. I wanted to remember everything, blurt it all out, but the wisest choice was to capture it all in my digital journal. I shuddered to think of how Ashland would look at me if he knew about my “dream catching.” I didn’t want to find out with this throbbing head. It would be a long night.

We pulled into the gravel driveway, and I fumbled for the apartment key. Without asking, he stepped out of the car, opening the car door without a word. I was relieved to find that climbing the stairs to the apartment went easily. No repeat performances; no falls.

“Thank you for bringing me home.”

“No trouble at all. We’ll bring your car back in a few minutes. I’ll put your keys in the planter here.” He looked at me steadily. “I’m sure you want to clean up a bit. Call Dr. Patterson if you have any problems at all. He’s on call 24/7. Is there anything else you need? Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to bring you some supper?”

“Thanks, but I’m not really hungry. I think I have something to snack on in the fridge. I appreciate you bringing me home. Thank you again.”

Flashing his easy smile, he left me on the porch. I slid the key into the lock, and then I was finally inside, alone, leaning against the door. No brave face needed. Nothing to prove—and after all that, no flow of tears.