The Messenger: Mortal Beloved Time Travel Romance, #1 by Pamela DuMond Read Free Book Online Page B

of blankets, snagged the annoying bandage, and pushed it away so I could see more clearly—another whacked dream?
    “Abigail. You are awake.” Elizabeth, my savior, leaned over and regarded me, worried.
    Nah, this wasn’t another dream, just a continuation of my previous nightmare.
    She placed one finger firmly on my bandage. “Do not fuss with your dressing,” she said. “You have a deep cut and a hard blow to your skull. Doctor Thorpe is away, and we had to dress your wound the best we knew how.”
    “Thank you.” I could barely get the words out, as my mouth felt like I’d been chewing sand. “Could I have something to drink, please?” Maybe electrolyte water and a juice smoothie followed with a double shot of mocha espresso, as I’d love a little energy right now.
    She nodded and reached behind her. “Doctor Thorpe accompanies our brave men and the other troops, as the war has moved down the coast, as well as inland.” She bit her lip.
    Apparently my ongoing nightmare included me being injured in a war. (Note to self: turn off The History Channel an hour before going to bed.)
    “We are short-handed, but we will make do. Sit up. You are sweating out your wound, and you need to drink.”
    I nodded, propped my free hand behind me and tried to push myself to a seated position. She put her arm around my shoulders, helped lift me to sitting and put a metallic cup to my lips. I downed the cool water in seconds.
    “You must be starving.” She stuck a bowl of what looked and smelled like cheap, canned, dog food in front of me. “Eat.”
    My nose crinkled and I shook my head. “No. I can’t eat that.”
    She frowned, but placed the bowl behind her. “Very well. You will eat when you are hungry. When Tobias told us about the attack, everyone prayed for your immortal soul. But only Angeni took my hand and made me visualize you, alive, healthy and happy in this life. She told me I must go and find you.” Elizabeth poured me another cup of water.
    “Mmm.” I gulped it and emptied the cup. “More?”
    She shook her head and took the cup away. “No, everything in moderation. Now you must rest.” She pressed the bandage firmly on my head. I winced. “No fidgeting. You need to heal.”
    Healing sounded great. What sounded even better would be waking up in my bed, feeling the rumble of the L train clattering down the street outside my bedroom window and hearing my dad holler, “Rise and shine, girls!” I needed to be at home. Not wherever this dream had taken me.
    So I decided to use the trick I reserved for the times my dreams got too bizarre: I chose to wake up now . The quickest way to do this was to thank the key players in my dream to their face. I’d wish them my very best and say goodbye. Then, voilà! I’d wake up to my real nightmare, which was my actual life in Chicago.
    “Elizabeth,” I clasped this woman’s hand with my free hand, and gazed up at her.
    “Yes, Abigail.” She smiled. “I swear your hand feels cooler already. You are healing, I know it.”
    This woman was far too helpful and kind, which was not helping me get rid of her. “Thank you for rescuing me, Elizabeth. You put yourself in danger. You were brave and strong,” I said. “I can’t repay you, but I’ll always remember you.” Bit of a lie; I usually didn’t remember the people in my dreams. But it sounded more polite, which was a nice way to say goodbye to imaginary people.
    “That is a lovely sentiment. Now lay back down.” She helped lower me to the mat on the floor. I lay flat, as she tucked me in tightly with the blankets next to the warm fireplace. The gash on my forehead burned like angry wasps had stung it.
    This was the perfect time to go back to my real life. I was already sleepy. My eyelids started to close when that beautiful young man’s face popped into my brain, and startled me. He was like a puzzle piece. I wanted to know more about him. Did he fit in my life?
    No! I was having a ridiculous fantasy,