Page 3 of Meet Me on Blueberry Hill

He pressed his back against the windowsill and eyed the queen-size bed with its twisted sheets that spoke of his restlessness. Instead of crawling back under the covers where sleep would elude him, he dropped in the dark brown leather chair in the corner that gave a perfect view of the TV sitting on the electric fireplace. He set his water on the floor and reached for the remote.

Stretching his legs out on the matching ottoman, he stopped on a random channel and threw an arm over his eyes. Maybe he could fall back to sleep to the droning of some mindless show.

“In this episode ofWhere Are They Now?, what happened to the rock band Phoenix? After the fiery tour bus crash that claimed the lives of nearly everyone on board, including the band’s famed lyricist, fans are wondering where Eli Noble, the lead singer who was the only one to escape, has disappear?—”

Asher scrambled for the remote and shut off the TV. He tossed it on the ottoman, then strode across the room and grabbed his phone that was charging on the side table. As he sat on the edge of the bed, he thumbed through his contacts and tapped on a number.

“’Ello?” Corbin Gray’s gravelly voice sounded in his ear.

“Hey, man. Sorry to call so late, and it’s been a while, but you said…”

“Yeah, yeah, no worries. I’m here for you. What’s going on?” His counselor’s deep voice mellowed with sleep eased the band around Asher’s chest. “Another nightmare?”

“Yeah.” Asher dragged a hand over his face. “It’s storming tonight. Maybe the thunder triggered it. I dunno. Woke up to a tree falling. Literally. It’s too dark to find it right now.”

“What was the nightmare?”

“Same one—the crash. I can’t get anyone out. The screaming. The fire.” Chills skittered across Asher’s puckered skin. “I’m so tired of this.”

“I’m sorry you’re still experiencing them. What you’re feeling is valid. Anxiety manifests itself through our dreams. Anything else stressing you right now? Where are you, by the way?”

Asher waved a hand around the room. “I’m still living in paradise, man. What do I have to stress about? My aunt and uncle’s place on Jonathon Island is as far out of the spotlight as I can get. I’m managing their ranch while they’re on their year-long RV tour. I’m caring for horses who are kinder than most people. So, nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Right. Glad you’re still there. I went to Jonathon Island as a kid. Before the hotel burned. We had the best pastries at this family-owned bakery.”

“The Hudson Bakery. Hank and Henrietta Hudson ran it. Hank passed a few years ago. Hetty—Henrietta, I mean, retired after she lost her husband. Too hard to do on her own. She’s my neighbor.”

Asher thought back to Hetty’s granddaughter, who didn’t like her sleep disturbed by things like storms. Or fallen trees. Or concerned neighbors, apparently.

“The five-year anniversary is coming up.”

Asher didn’t need a calendar to remember the day burned into his memory. He grunted.

“Perhaps the approaching date is coming out through your dreams. How are you feeling about it?”

Asher dropped the phone on the table and stabbed the speaker button. He jumped to his feet and paced in front of the rain-splattered window. Lacing his fingers behind his neck, he wrestled with the words stuck in his throat. “How do you think I’m feeling about it? They’re dead because of me. The choices I made.”

“Asher, they’re dead because of the accident. This isn’t your fault.”

“I should’ve said no when Chet and Dom pressured me to let them drive. They were over hours but insisted we drive through the night—and the storm—to get to the next venue on time. My bus, my fault. I couldn’t save them.”

“Have you read the police report your uncle gave you yet?”

“No.” His eyes slid to the wooden dresser where the sealed envelope lay untouched in the top drawer.

“Maybe it’s time. Then you can forgive yourself and begin healing.”

Asher ran a hand over his jaw, his fingers scraping over the rough skin on the left side of his neck. “My burns are healed. I have the scars to prove it.”

“I’m talking about spiritual healing.”

“Yeah, well, I’m the last person God wants to hear from.” An ache formed behind his burning eyes. “Listen, man. Thanks for picking up. I appreciate it. I’m going to try to see if I can crash for a little while before I need to feed the horses and muck out their stalls.”

“You know where to find me, day or night.”

“Thanks, man. Appreciate you.” Asher ended the call and dropped back on the chair, face in his hands. He picked up the remote and found a decades-old comedy playing. He stretched out. The laugh track echoed in his head as he closed his eyes.

Now that the storm had lessened to a soft rain, maybe it would lull him to sleep.

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