Dream a Little Dream

Chapter 35

Lucky Spencer nearly dropped the box he was carrying.

“Careful, Cowboy!” Luke said as he finished coming down the stairs into the dining room at Vagabond. “The booze for well drinks, fine. But don't drop the Barbancour!”

“Jeez, Dad! I'm too young for a heart attack!” Lucky said. “What are you doing here, especially before 8 a.m.? I thought you'd turn to dust if you were up this early!”

Luke grinned.

“I don't get up this early for many people,” he said.

“What's going on?” Lucky asked. “You're being way too lighthearted to be here to tell me you're ... leaving.”

Luke saw the fear in Lucky's eyes and heard it in his voice. He smiled gently.

“No, Son, nothing yet,” he said. “But I did get a phone call last night.”

“Who?”

“An old friend from our N'Awlins days,” Luke said. “I'd called Epiphany yesterday to see what she was going to do with that storm Katrina over Florida maybe heading their way next.”

“How's she doing?” Lucky asked, remembering his old babysitter. He'd often go to the home Epiphany shared with her parents and small son after school if Luke and Laura were working. It was also a safe house, as Epiphany knew the Spencer story. If something happened, Lucky was to go there instead of home. Epiphany was studying nursing at the time, and often Lucky would quiz her on chapters. When he'd joined the rescue squad in Port Charles, he sent Epiphany a thank-you not for the head start.

“She's gettin' out,” Luke said. “Her dad had a stroke six months ago, and her mother has diabetes. Even if the storm isn't bad there, she can't stay there without power and the ambulances possibly unable to get to them if one of them had trouble. And if it does get bad ... well, you know that neighborhood. Those levees won't hold worth a damn if they take even close to a direct hit.”

Lucky nodded.

“She and Stan are going to finish packing and closing up the house today,” Luke said. “Piph's taking Mr. Johnson's yellow Cadillac, and Stan's going to drive her van.”

“Where are they headed?”

“That's what I wanted to talk with you about,” Luke said. “I told them to come here. I was thinking, we could use two of those apartments on the third floor we decided not to rent. Think that'll work?”

“That's fine,” Lucky said. “But they're empty. We've got to turn on the power, the phone ...”

“Yep, I've got a long day ahead of me,” Luke said. “I already called the phone company. They're coming tomorrow to connect the phone lines. All you have to do is turn on the switches in the back for electricity. I'll call the cable company next.”

Lucky pulled out a large notepad. “When will they get here?”

Luke scratched his chin, staring into space as he did the calculations.

“It's about 24 hours driving, throw in stops and such, they'll probably get here sometime Monday,” Luke said. “Doesn't give us a whole lot of time to get things ready. I figure if they don't need to stay long, we can just use those apartments for business guests.”

“Let's see,” Lucky said, starting to scribble a list. “We'll need furniture – I assume Epiphany and her parents will be in one apartment and Stan in another...”

“Yeah,” Luke said. “Let's get that list put together. Your mom will be home tomorrow to help out. I'll call Felicia and see if she's free to do some shopping today.”

The two sat at a table and began list-making.

* * *

Stan Johnson opened his eyes slowly, then sat up swiftly after seeing the clock. It was after 7 a.m. He put on his robe and went into his mother's bedroom. Epiphany, a large black woman with long dreadlocks, was up and dressed.

“Why didn't you wake me up, Mama?” he asked. Epiphany looked over at him. Even with his tall frame and bushy hair, he still looked like her baby as he squinted and rubbed his face trying to wake fully up.

“Today's a long day, and tomorrow will be long, too, baby,” she said as she put a pair of rolled-up pants into a duffel bag. “You needed a good rest. I woke up around 4. It was nice and quiet, so I was able to get just about all my packing done in here. Go have breakfast. Gramma's doing your wash right now so you can pack your clothes in a little bit.”

Stan went out into the kitchen. His grandfather was there, sipping his coffee and eating cut-up grapefruit.

“Mornin', Pops,” Stan said, with a kiss on the cheek. He went to the counter and made himself a couple of fried eggs, then put them on toast.

“Long ... day ahead,” Wayne Johnson said. While his speech was still slow and he had to grope for a word once in a while, Wayne had made good progress since his stroke. He could walk short distances with the help of a walker, and was getting motor skills back slowly.

Stan nodded.

“Mama's probably got a to-do list as long as my arm,” he said. Epiphany came into the kitchen in time to hear that.

“You guessed right,” she said, sitting down and pouring herself a cup of coffee from the percolator. She pulled out a little memo pad from her chest pocket.

“I just put boxes in your room,” she said. “Put your important stuff in there – photo albums, yearbooks and such. Don't forget your transcripts from Tulane. When you're done with that, get on your computer and print out four copies of the directions to Port Charles – I got the address here. Put one copy in each of the glove compartments, keep one for yourself and leave one on my bed. Then start packing your clothes. Put what you need for the trip in the gym bag, and the rest in trash bags. We don't have enough real luggage to go around.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Gramma and I have some errands to run this morning,” she said. “Your aunt and Luke Spencer each wired us some money for the trip, so we'll go to Western Union for that. Then we're going to the bank to get more money to turn into traveler's checks.”

“Better go to the grocery store, too,” Stan said.

“Why?” Epiphany said. “We're not going to be here.”

“For the trip,” Stan said. “We have those two coolers in the garage. We can put one in each car for drinks and stuff. Gramma needs orange juice for her blood sugar – get some of those single-serve bottles, and some ice. We can make peanut butter on crackers for snacks, and pack some of those apples. Oh, and get some Luzianne, too. I don't think they have chicory coffee in Port Charles. I'm sure Luke would like a can.”

Epiphany nodded.

“Good thinking, Son,” she said.

Her father broke in.

“Safe deposit ... box,” he said. “Bring stuff ... in ... it home. We'll take ... with us.”

“Yes, sir,” Epiphany said. “Mama knows the combination?”

He nodded. “Just in ... case, it's in ... top right ... drawer,” he said.

“I gotta call Marcellus after breakfast,” Stan said. “He said he'd come over today to help me board up the windows. There's that plywood out in the garage. I think we'll do it after lunch. If I can get him to stay for supper, he can help me load up the cars afterward.”

“His folks ... going?” Mr. Johnson asked.

“Nope,” Stan said. “His parents don't think we'll get much of anything, so they'll just ride it out here. Besides, they don't have a car. No way to leave, and nowhere to go once they do.”

Epiphany shook her head.

“I hope they're right,” she said. “Ask Marcellus to come with us, Stan.”

“Already did,” Stan said. “He turned me down. He said if his folks are right, he doesn't want to risk losing that new waitering gig in the French Quarter. If your instincts hold out, he wants to be here to help his parents.”

“He's a good boy,” Celeste Johnson said, walking into the kitchen. “I hope his folks are right. People probably think we're crazy.”

“I'd rather be prepared and not have it happen than the opposite,” Epiphany said. “If nothing else, this is a good practice for us for when the big one does come.”

Epiphany finished her coffee and went back into her room, where she taped up some more boxes to fill.

Celeste shook her head. She hated all the upheaval and fuss, probably over nothing. Wayne looked at her sharply.

“She's right,” he said. “We've got ... a ... smart girl.”

Celeste's face softened. Then she kissed her husband.

“If you say so, dear,” she said. “Stan, your clothes are on the bed. Better get moving. Your mama and I will be leaving soon.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Stan said, digging into his eggs.

* * *

Sam McCall made a valiant effort, and kept herself from bouncing in excitement in the passenger seat of her Realtor's car. Today was the beginning of house-hunting. All those years of working, scrimping and saving were another step closer to paying off.

“We'll be heading out to near Beecher's Corners first, and work our way back towards Port Charles,” said Erika, the Realtor. “We can probably get in four houses today. I don't want you to get overwhelmed with seeing to much your first day.”

Sam nodded.

“Sounds good,” she said. They drove on. It was a pretty day out, with just puffy white clouds dotting the sky.

The first house they went to was a two-story farmhouse right on the outskirts of the village of Beecher's Corners. It had potential – four bedrooms (albeit small), one and a half bathrooms, a big kitchen. But the stairs were steep and narrow, which made Sam worry about Danny falling. The interior had been painted and papered in kitschy country style within an inch of its life. The hardwood floors needed to be refinished. And the yard was small.

“It's nice, it might work,” Sam said. “But I'm not feeling it.”

Erika nodded. “On to the next one, then,” she said.

The next one was a three-bedroom Cape Cod. Sam dismissed it immediately. The bedrooms upstairs were too low-ceilinged for Danny. The kitchen needed a complete gutting and renovation. And it stank of cat pee.

A four-bedroom foursquare house was next. The lot was narrow, but deep, and framed by lush trees. Sam loved the rich hardwood floors and woodwork. The kitchen was a bit small. There was only one bathroom. And it was about $30,000 over what she'd hoped to spend.

“No dream house yet,” Sam said. And when Erika pulled in front of the fourth house, Sam thought she was crazy.

“You're kidding, right?” she said.

Before her was an overgrown lot and a house that had the look of being passed by. It was a large single-story house, shaped like an L. But the paint was peeling, the windows were original single-pane with aluminum frames. And, and ...

“This is another possibility to consider, Sam,” Erika said. “It's definitely a 'handyman's special.' But it's structurally sound. It has more square footage than the foursquare. The floor plan is more open and modern. The kitchen's bigger. It has two full bathrooms. Four bedrooms. Lots of closet space. The laundry is on the main floor. There's a screened-in porch in the back. It's a corner lot at the dead end of a quiet street, so there's lots of quiet and privacy. There's that park with a playground across the street.”

“How did you find it through this jungle of shrubs and saplings?” Sam asked dubiously.

“There's another thing to consider,” Erika said. “It's $50,000 below the top of your budget. And we can probably get the sellers to go lower.”

“Let's look inside,” Sam said.

* * *

Luke and Felicia stood at the front of Vinny's Home Superstore.

“I hate shopping,” Luke said with a groan.

“I'd do it for you, but stores are kind of nitpicky about people using credit cards that don't belong to them,” Felicia said.

A slick-haired young man was on them instantly. “And what would the happy couple like?” he asked. Luke choked back a bark of laughter.

“We're furnishing some apartments,” Felicia said in her most businesslike voice, shooting a dark glare at a mirthful Luke. He trailed along as Felicia went over the list with the salesman - two sofas, a leather club chair, an upholstered wing chair, four end tables, two coffee tables, two TV stands, two dining room sets, three bedroom sets with queen-sized beds, three queen-sized mattress sets, and a large computer desk and office chair.

“And we need it all delivered by Sunday,” Felicia said.

“We can do that,” the salesman said. “We'll set up the appointment with the manager when we're done.”

Felicia chose more traditional furniture for the apartment Celeste, Wayne and Epiphany would share. The dining room set was simple, but in a dark cherry stain for a more formal look. The sofa had big rolled arms, tufting and a skirt. The wing chair was a rich, masculine plaid. For the second apartment, where Stan would stay, she went more modern. The bedroom set was sleek, with brushed nickel hardware and an espresso stain. The dining room set was in a blond finish. The couch was simple, with straight arms and back in apple green faux suede, and stainless steel legs. The club chair was a dark brown leather. She was able to get some of it at a discount because they were floor samples. The store manager promised to have everything delivered Saturday afternoon, or they'd get 30 percent of their bill refunded.

“You plowed through there like Sherman en route to Atlanta, Honey Pie,” Luke said teasingly.

“I can't believe he thought we were a couple!” Felicia said, rolling her eyes.

“Hey, if it wasn't for Laura, you'd be at the top of my list, Flea,” Luke said. “Where to next?”

“Sears is right here,” Felicia said. “We need appliances and TVs.”

Felicia moved just as quickly there. Within 45 minutes, she'd arranged for the delivery of two stainless steel refrigerators, two stainless steel ranges, two dishwashers, two washers, two dryers, two televisions and two DVD players.

“Okay,” she said. “They come Sunday morning. The cable hookup is Sunday afternoon, right?”

“Yep,” Luke said.

“You're doing a lot here, and we still have a lot to buy,” Felicia said. “You must think a lot of this Epiphany.”

“Piph was a real friend when we were living in New Orleans,” Luke said. “We were on the run from Frank Smith, and laying low. She took care of Lucky for us while we were working, and kept our secret. She kept us level-headed a lot. Laura took being away from everyone here hard sometimes. She'd lost Lesley – or thought she did – and felt pretty alone. Epiphany was someone she could always turn to for support. She shoots straight and doesn't play games.”

Felicia looked back to the list.

“I think I can handle the rest of the stuff if you just give me some cash,” she said. “Mac and I can chip in, too.”

Luke opened his wallet and gave Felicia several crisp $100 bills.

“This'll do fine,” she said. “I'll do some more shopping tomorrow. Georgie can help me, and Maxie, if she's home. So you're free from retail hell.”

Luke let out a long sigh of relief.

“Thank God,” he said. “Now I'm off to go earn back some of what I spent today. I'll be at the Haunted Star if you think of anything else we might need.”

* * *

Epiphany and Celeste returned home to see Stan and Marcellus boarding up the front windows on the house.

“You worked fast,” Epiphany said in approval. “You have time for an errand. Take the van over to the quick oil change place and get it done. Then go fill the gas tank. We got the car done while we were out, and it's ready to go.”

“Yes, Mama,” Stan said, looking with a smile at the yellow Cadillac. It was more than 20 years old, but it was his grandfather's pride and joy. Epiphany had taken it to the car wash as well, Stan noted. Pops will like that.

“Stay to supper, Marcellus?” Celeste asked. “I'm making gumbo. Might as well use up the andouille I got in the fridge.”

“Oh, yeah, Mrs. Johnson!” Marcellus said. “Stan, you go do the van stuff. I'll take care of the attic window for you. It's the least I can do for some of your grandma's gumbo!”

“Thanks,” Stan said, and left.

Celeste and Epiphany walked into the house, where it looked like night with the blocked windows and all the lights on. Wayne was watching the news.

“What are they saying?” Celeste asked.

“Looks bad,” Wayne said. “It'll turn ... north ... just don't know ... where it'll hit. But ... we'll likely ... get something.”

Celeste looked grim. She took the bags of ice into the kitchen and set them in the freezer. She then got out the andouille and began making the gumbo.

Epiphany went around the house, taking framed photographs off the walls, dressers and tables. She put them all on the coffee table, then took the pictures out of the frames and put them in an empty box. Wayne looked at her quizzically.

“Takes up less space in the boxes this way,” Epiphany said. “We can fit all the pictures in one box then.” Wayne nodded, and went back to watching TV.

* * *

The bell on the door to Heather Webber's dessert shop tinkled. She poked her head out of the kitchen and saw John Durant at the counter.

“Hi!” she said, walking out with a tray of raspberry tartlets. “What brings you down this way?”

“I was just over at the courthouse,” John said. “And I'll be working late tonight, so I figured I'd take a little break now before getting back to the grind. Quiet here today.”

“There's usually a lull at this time,” Heather said. “It's between lunchtime and afternoon snacks. What can I get you?”

John scrutinized the contents of the display case.

“I'll have that key lime pie,” he said. “And an iced coffee.”

After Heather served John, she poured an iced tea for herself.

“Mind if I join you?” she asked. “I could use a few minutes off my feet.”

“Please,” John said, gesturing to the seat across from him.

Heather sat down with a happy sigh. She'd been in the kitchen since 8 a.m. Her counter girl had gone on her break during the lull.

“How's business?” John asked.

“Pretty good,” Heather said. “I have a wedding cake for this weekend, and a birthday cake for one of Steven's friends at the hospital. The only problem is ...” she hesitated.

“What?” John asked, furrowing his brow.

“I'm feeling the pinch from some of my suppliers,” she said. “Because of the gang problem down where they're located, they've all hired extra security. That cost is being passed along to me. If this keeps up, John, I'm going to have to raise my prices. And that could drive away some customers.”

“Ah,” he said.

“I'm sorry,” Heather said. “I know it's not your fault. But it's not just a problem for law enforcement, and it's not contained to just that neighborhood. It's affecting a lot of people. Pepe's across the street is having to raise their prices for pizza. And they've stopped delivery to everywhere but the Waterfront District because a couple of their delivery guys got robbed near that neighborhood. That's gotta hurt their business.”

John nodded.

“I know,” he said. “And if we don't get a handle on it soon, we're really going to be feeling the pressure.”

He squinted and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Just when you thought things were under control, after finally getting rid of Sonny Corinthos and the Five Families,” Heather said.

“I knew we couldn't get complacent,” he said. “But organized crime can still sneak up on you.”

“You look exhausted,” Heather said.

“A lot of late nights,” John said. “And so far, not a lot to show for it.”

“If anyone can do it, you can,” Heather said. “But when was the last time you had fun?”

John laughed ruefully.

“Fun? What's that?” he said. “What free time I have, I try to spend with Carly and the boys. But they're on vacation until this weekend.”

Heather shook her head.

“You're not going to do this case any good if you wear yourself out,” she said. “Take tonight off. I mean, will the world end if you don't work 12 hours today?”

“No, but I've got to stay on top of things,” he said.

“You'd do that better if you took a breather,” she said. “Live a little, John.”

“I can't ask the cops to do more than I ask of myself,” John said.

“They go home at night,” Heather said.

“And what time are you going home?” John retorted.

Heather opened her mouth, then closed it. She laughed.

“After closing,” she said.

“Pot, meet kettle,” John said. “Kettle, pot.”

“You got me there,” she said. “But still, John, don't stay too late tonight. You'll want to be upright when Carly and the boys come home.”

John smiled.

“Yeah, I do,” he said. “It's something, this father and grandfather gig. All my life, I figured that had passed me by. And I was okay with it. I was doing good work, helping my parents, living my life. Then, all of a sudden, I have my own family. It's been amazing, but ... I missed out on so much, Heather. There's stuff a father should have that I never will. I'll never know what it was like to dance with my daughter on my feet, or read her stories.”

Heather looked away.

“I know,” she said. “I missed out on time with Steven, too. Jeff took him and moved away. Even though I moved nearby after a few years, I was still at the mercy of Jeff and his wife. Jeff had sole custody. If they wanted to take him on a trip for the whole summer, there was nothing I could do about it. But I must've done something right, I still don't know what, because the connection is there.”

“I know I'm happy with what I have,” John said. “I never pictured this when I came to town – all I could think about was exterminating the mob here. So I've got nothing to complain about. Still...”

“You're wondering what else there is,” Heather said.

“Exactly,” he said. “Work's killing me, and it's not enough anymore, rewarding as it is.”

Heather nodded. She'd had similar restless feelings of late, but felt she should stifle them. Rebelliousness and restlessness got her in trouble. It was then she thought of Scotty.

John finished his pie and downed the last of his iced coffee. “Back to the grind,” he said. “But I think I'll take your advice and knock off early – six should do it.”

“Good for you!” Heather said. John picked up his briefcase.

“Take care,” he said.

“You too,” she replied. She smiled after him and shook her head. Then she cleared the table and went to make the fondant icing for the wedding cake.

* * *

Erika opened the front door. Sam stepped into a dark entry hall. To the left was a short passage with a large closet along the wall. She saw washer and dryer hookups. Straight ahead, the wall on the left was a large coat closet.

Where the entry ended, Sam looked left into a large open living room. There was a stacked stone fireplace at the far end. She looked to the right, and a hallway led down to the bedrooms. The front closet turned out to be one wall of a self-contained room that also held a boiler and hot water heater.

“There's no basement,” Erika said. “But the boiler and water heater are less than five years old.” Sam nodded. On the opposite side of the front closet, opening from the living room, was a large dining area. A dated brass lighting fixture hung overhead. Sam walked on.

“Whoa,” she said, looking around the large, but hopeless kitchen. Cabinet doors were askew. Shelves were cracked. Vinyl peel-and-stick flooring felt loose underfoot. Then Sam saw the stove.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Erika asked.

It was a vintage stove; Sam would have guessed from about the 1950s. It had six big gas burners, with one large and one small oven.

“Pretty cool, if it works,” Sam said.

They turned and went back towards the bedrooms. Two were on each side in the hall. A large bathroom with a long, two-sink vanity was between the two on the left. The front right-hand bedroom was the master bedroom, with two closets and its own bathroom. Sam wrinkled her nose at the shag carpeting.

“This would have to go,” she said.

They walked outside through the screened-in porch off the dining area and kitchen. What Sam could determine to be the yard went back about 60 feet before ending at woods.

It has everything I want, Sam thought. But it's too much. I can't do this all by myself. Removing wallpaper, painting, flooring, fixing the kitchen and baths. And then there was the yard. Where would I find the time? Or the money? I can't overextend myself on either, not with Danny to take care of.

“What do you think?” Erika interrupted her thoughts. “Can you see yourself here?”

That was the trouble. Sam could see herself all to well here, and what she'd do with it. She shook her head.

“I don't see how,” she said. “It's too much to take on.”

“Keep it in mind and I'll see what else I have for you,” Erika said. They got back in the car. Sam craned her neck to look back at the house as they drove away.

* * *

Stan returned about two hours later. Marcellus had finished boarding the attic window, and was helping Epiphany bring boxes out onto the front porch to load into the van.

“I'll be out in a few minutes,” Stan said, going into the house. He grabbed a box and went into his room. He took apart his computer, packing the CPU, flat-screen monitor, keyboard, mouse and router into the box. “I'll put this stuff in first, so it's at the bottom and won't break anything,” he said to Epiphany as he walked to the van. Taking a second box, he packed his scanner and discs. Those went alongside the other box in the van.

They spent the next few hours loading up the van. “You're sure taking a lot,” Marcellus commented.

“I always hear how, when people lose their homes, how it's losing the photos and family things that hurt the most,” Epiphany said. “I want to make sure that doesn't happen to us.”

Celeste, listening from the kitchen, thought of something.

“Stanford! Marcellus!” she called. They rushed into the kitchen. “Go up to the attic,” she commanded. “Get those two red and green boxes down. If your mama's right, I don't want to lose our Christmas ornaments. And bring down those quilts in the chest up there. Your great-great-grandmother made those.”

The two young men did as they were bid. Celeste rolled the quilts tightly, tying them with rope so they'd take up less room. Soon, the van was full.

“Well, that's done,” Epiphany said. “Our Sunday clothes can go in the trunk with your grandfather's wheelchair and walker. Your grandmother wants to go to church on Sunday, wherever we are.”

“You can do that after dinner,” Celeste said. “It's ready.”

Around the table, they studied the map and directions Stan had printed.

“If we leave before dawn, we can avoid traffic,” Epiphany said. “I'm hoping we can get to Birmingham or Huntsville before supper. We can stop there. The next day, I think the Cincinnati area's a good place to stop. It's about five hours to Cleveland from there, so we can get to Erie, Pennsylvania, that day. After that, it'll be a short trip to Port Charles. We'll be there the following afternoon.”

Marcellus whistled.

“That's a long haul,” he said. “You sure you want to do this?”

“After all that work today, I ain't going to unpack it all,” Stan said. “Besides, if it turns out to be nothing we can just come home. Nothing lost but a few nights of hotel bills.”

“Good attitude,” Wayne said.

“No matter what happens, it's a good lesson,” Celeste said. “Doing this made me think about what's important. Everything in here, I can leave behind as long as I've got my family with me. But it's good to be prepared.”

“That's true,” Marcellus said.

Dinner finished, Epiphany handled the last of the packing, then went to bed early. Stan looked around his room, checking drawers to make sure he didn't forget anything. Celeste came in the room, holding a piece of paper.

“Marcellus, take this,” she said. “It's the address where we're staying, and my daughter's cell phone number. Keep it in your wallet. Let us know you're all right.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Marcellus said, kissing her on the cheek. “I'd better get home.”

“Wait,” Celeste said. “Take the rest of the gumbo home to your parents. We don't need it. Stay safe, young man.”

Marcellus took the gumbo. “Thanks, Mrs. Johnson,” he said. Then he shook Stan's hand. “Take care. I'll see you in a few days.”

“From your lips to God's ears,” Celeste said.