CHAPTER 16

HAUNTED BY DREAMS

Morning came quickly and there was a fresh skiff of powder blanketing the streets as Ichabod and I saw Katrina off. I politely wished her well and stood uncomfortably to the side as Ichabod whispered something in her ear and kissed her farewell on her porcelain cheek. I turned around attempting to hide the flush that brightened my face. Even though I knew he was married, I couldn't refrain from my feelings or stop the pinch of jealousy in my heart. We only watched for a moment as Katrina's coach rolled out of sight, and wasted no time returning to the warmth of the house.

Ichabod and I didn't speak as we went about our separate tasks throughout the day; Ichabod was consumed in his own experiments in his laboratory for hours upon hours, while I tended to everyday household tasks. I soon found that Ichabod felt more comfortable in his lab than anywhere else. Katrina once lightheartedly told me that she thought his sciences were his one true love, but now I came to the conclusion she wasn't exactly joking. Ichabod was just as uncomfortable with women as he was with himself. I even noticed slight tension between him and Katrina, and there was no question he felt awkward in my presence.

Our silence streak continued through the evening meal and well into the night until we both retired to our rooms. As I lay wide-eyed in my bed watching the moon dance across the sky, I couldn't help but notice how empty the house felt. It was like I was the only there, but I knew Ichabod was also alone in his room waiting for sleep to captivate his mind.

It was only when slumber had lightly grasped my mind with its silky fingers that I awoke with a start and sprung into a sitting position. I could have sworn that a scream and jerked me from my sleep, but the only noise I could hear was the faint bellow of a lone owl soloing in the cold night outside my window. Convinced it was only the reoccurring nightmare that had wedged itself into my brain so frequently before, I laid back down and let my eyelids drift shut, but it was only a few moments later that I heard the scream – a muffled moan – again. I realized that these screams weren't fabrications of my imagination, but real screams that pierced the air – Ichabod's screams.

"Ichabod!" I gasped and leaped out of bed, grabbing the candle from the desk. As I dashed down the hall, I gripped the candle so tightly, I felt my fingers imprinting the soft wax in my hand, but I failed to notice the drippings of the scalding wax running onto it. Bursting through the door, I saw Ichabod tossing restlessly in a large four-poster bed, heaving in breath and slight moans escaping his lips. Placing the candle in a holder on the bureau, I hurried to his side. As I neared, I gazed at his body glistening with sweat and his white nightshirt drenched and hugging every muscle beneath his chest. His black hair was damp and rumpled, a few strands sticking to his pale forehead. I had no qualm that a horrible nightmare possessed his mind, as I had also similar ravings in the silent hours of the night. Sitting on the edge of the bed I took his quivering hand in my own. It was cold and clammy as his sweat cooled in contact with the air. "Shhh…I'm here," I whispered soothingly.

"Katrina!" he struggled to gasp his wife's name between breaths. I noticed blood trickling from a gash on the left side of his chest, barely visible between the cords of his shirt. I was puzzled because I recalled a scar there the night he tended to my wounds so impelled by Rexroth. However, I did not ponder on this new sense of bewilderment - I had to concentrate on easing Ichabod's mind.

"She's safe, I promise," I assured him. "You're having a bad dream, nothing more." I brushed a few stay hairs that had fallen over his eyes.

"Melanie?" he asked when his eyes became ajar and locked with mine. I smiled and he slowly sat up, catching his breath. "I was dreaming," he said. "A horrible dream…" A confused expression decorated the lines of his face.

"I know. I heard you from my room and came to see if you're all right," I whispered.

He looked at me in disbelief and ran his fingers through his dark mane. "I…I seem to be fine, just shaken. I haven't had those dreams since before Katrina and I…" he paused. "I guess it's just been so long since I've been away from her," he rationalized smiling slightly at the thought of his wife. "I'm sorry that I disturbed you." He looked at me with eyes that showed gratitude, hunger, strength, weakness, so many things, and so many emotions that I didn't know existed. But they existed in Ichabod – in the crashing waves of his dark, mysterious eyes. How my stomach frolicked, how my spine quaked, how my heart pounded as the room suddenly grew too warm for comfort.

"You do not need to apologize," I said. "I just wanted to see that you were all right, and now that I have…" I stood up and turned to depart, but a hand on my arm stopped me.

"This may seem rather silly and quite improper of me," Ichabod's voice was soft and unsteady with nervousness. "But would you think it indecent of me if I were to ask you to consider staying here for the remainder of the night?"

I just stared at him contemplating if he was serious in his request or if he still wasn't thinking clearly. I opened my mouth to say something, but not a word parted my lips. Whether or not my answer was an agreement or an objection, I did not know. Seeing my perplexed reaction, he looked down at his hands. "Forgive me for my uncouth request," he finally said shyly like he were a young boy attempting to explain why he disobeyed his parents. "But your presence seems to be somewhat a comfort to me."

I sighed. "Do not think of it as uncouth or indecent. You have already given me so much that many people would consider your charitable acts towards me uncouth – immodest, if you will. Therefore, however, I don't believe indecency is a concern in this situation. Because of your many deeds of hospitality, I only feel it fit that I at least fulfill to your requests of the best of my ability."

Ichabod looked taken aback at my semi-lecture, but I assured him with a grin. "I'd be happy to," I added. "Besides, I doubt I can return to sleep anyway, and I'd at least rest better knowing you slept soundly without the disruption of the demons in evil dreams."

"You don't know how grateful I am," he finally said laying his head back on his pillow. Before I could answer him, his eyes were tranquilly shut.

I blew out the withering flame of the candle on the bureau and sat down in a big oak chair by the window. The moon's pale light shone through the glass casting an eerie glow throughout the room. A majority of the light shone on Ichabod who seemed more corpse-like than alive, but perhaps he just simply seemed so surreal. His usually pale complexion appeared ghastly in the light, like he was the specter that haunted my dreams. My heart fluttered as I looked at him, and in the silence of the room, it sounded louder than a drum roll – his dark hair contrasting the white of his face, his steep jawline, and cheekbones that could cut glass.

I closed my eyes and tried to find a comfortable position in the hard wooded chair, but after each relieving moment, aches and pains returned to my lower back and neck.

I glanced over at Ichabod. He was sleeping as soundly as ever and for a moment I considered returning to my room, to the soft blankets of my bed and the sweet embrace of my pillow. However, I quickly tossed the tantalizing thought from my mind. I had promised Ichabod I'd remain at his side for the night and if his nightmare returned and he burst into hysterics… I couldn't bear the thought of what he might think of me if I wasn't there to comfort him like I had promised. I rubbed my aching neck while I envied Ichabod who rested comfortably in the gigantic bed.

Bed. Gigantic bed.

Ichabod only occupied half the bed at the most. There was a whole other side, duvet completely undisturbed. How could I even think such impure thoughts? But the bed that seemed to be crying my name, captivated my mind. I wouldn't lie down for long, I told myself. And the bed's so big, it surely wouldn't hurt. I shuffled over to the bed and softly climbed up on it, desperately trying not to disturb the body next to me. I sunk into the velvet of the duvet, my muscles all but screaming their relief. My mind slipped away as did the whites of my eyes as my lids fell over them. Even though I told myself I'd only lay down for not but a few minutes, I later realized that keeping track of time – telling minutes from hours was exceedingly difficult when you were lost in the vast forest of deep slumber.