Forgotten Dreams Read online

  Forgotten Dreams

  Moon Child 5

  By Janet Lane-Walters

  Digital ISBNs

  EPUB 9780228609971

  Kindle 9780228609988

  WEB/PDF 9780228609995

  Print ISBNs

  Amazon 9780228610014

  LSI/Ingram 9780228610021

  B&N 9780228610007

  Copyright 2019 by Janet Lane Walters

  Cover Art 2019 by Michelle Lee

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Chapter 1

  Chad Morgan leaned against the wall near the French doors leading to the garden of the ball room. The scent of June roses drifted on the breeze. A distant hum of traffic rumbled beneath the pop songs played by the band. Dark clouds played tag across the moon, carrying the promise of a coming storm. His thoughts approached another kind of storm, one burning in his gut.

  Tonight was his to savor but the taste was sour. The celebration of his latest flick bored him. His muscles ached from the day’s six hour workout to keep his body fit for another action adventure as the unbeatable Storm. The fourth of the franchise his agent and the studio hoped would never end had been released today.

  Music blared, playing the latest tunes and of course, the series’ theme song. Couples gyrated to the pounding beat. Women wearing glittering gowns and men in dark tuxes turned like fragments of glass in a kaleidoscope. He released a breath. Just another Hollywood party.

  In a silent salute, Chad raised his glass and sipped. He welcomed the burn of rum and cola, his personal favorite written into the scripts as Storm’s go-to drink. There were times when he really wanted a beer instead, but images must be maintained at all times and his kick-ass hero knew how to hold his liquor. He chuckled. Unlike his on screen persona, the glass he held contained his first and last alcohol of the night, a fact which of course no one else knew.

  He watched a curvaceous blonde weave her way among the dancers, headed in his direction. She paused to lift a glass of champagne from a strolling waiter’s tray. Her top shimmered beneath the lights. The low swoop of the neckline barely covered her nipples.

  Chad sipped again. He should know her…Her name was Mindy, Mandy, Bimbo. Just one of the latest crop of aspiring starring ladies who managed to attend every important party. She glided closer.

  “Hiding in plain sight?” Her husky whisper left him cold.

  “Observing,” he said.

  “What do you see?”

  He could answer with the truth but he wouldn’t. Truth wasn’t needed tonight. What he saw was false laughter, pretense and boring people. He looked past her. “The same thing I see at similar affairs. What’s your pleasure?” He had an idea but he wanted to hear her ploy.

  Her smile held a promise of activity he didn’t want. She ran her hand along his arm. “I’m tired of secondary roles.” She sucked in a deep breath and nearly exposed her nipples. “I hear there’s another Storm movie being cast.” Her fingers reached his shoulder. “You could let people see the chemistry between us. That’s what your last leading lady did.” She touched his lips. “I’m available.”

  “Did Cindy really do that? I never guessed.” He fought the urge to laugh. Cindy’s agent and his had orchestrated the romance that had only been in the papers, not in life.

  He spotted the man he’d avoided all evening. Though he didn’t want to speak to Gregson, the man’s presence would chase this opportunistic female away. He stepped away. “Speak to your agent. Perhaps he can arrange a reading. Mine is on the way. He wants to talk.”

  She pulled a card from her cleavage. “Give me a call. I promise you won’t be sorry.”

  Gregson arched an eyebrow. “A new conquest? Time for some promo ops and rumors.”

  Chad shook his head. “She wants to star in my next movie. Not happening.”

  His agent smiled. “Shame. You tempted?”

  “Not interested. What’s on your mind?”

  “You need to sign the contracts for Storm five and six. They want to start filming in September.”

  Chad released the breath he held. “I need a break. I’m tired of being typecast.” Before the four Storm films, there had been spots in three other action films. He pointed to a trio of babes headed in their direction. “I’m also tired of being a chick magnet.”

  Gregson scowled. “Goes with the territory. Think photo op.”

  “Not the kind of life I want anymore.”

  “What you want and what the studio demands shows you’re not reading the right script. Do number five and six and they might give you a chance to do something else. It’s the money, my friend. You opened in the top spot world wide this weekend. You need to keep doing what you do best.”

  Anger bubbled closer to the surface. Chad feared erupting like Old Faithful. “I’m sick of Storm. I’m tired of kicking ass. I’m fed up doing the same scene with slight variations again and again. I want to do Rob’s book. You said the script was great.”

  Gregson’s hand landed on Chad’s shoulder. “Not your style. I’ve shopped the idea around. Had some interest but not with you in the lead role. Two more Storms and you’ll be on your way to the bank with more millions. In two years we’ll ask again.”

  In one long swallow, Chad finished the drink. He slapped the glass into Gregson’s hand. “In two years I’ll be dead from boredom.” He stepped out into the dark night.

  “Let me know when you’re ready to toe the line,” Gregson called. “You know you will.”

  Chad strode to his car. He wasn’t toeing any line, not as Storm. Hollywood no longer held the glamour he’d embraced ten years ago when he’d arrived. He could have chosen a different road. His athletic abilities could have earned him a college scholarship but the acting virus had invaded his life. Four years of drama in high school and multiple roles in the local theater group had brought him here.

  He’d followed that dream but there had been other dreams. Could he find them again? Smiling chocolate eyes in a lovely face surrounded by dark hair flashed in his thoughts. Had she found a dream different from the one they’d shared and he’d forgotten? He slid behind the wheel and drove to his large and lonely home behind stone walls. There were decisions to be made but not tonight. He would remember her…Emma.

  In an unusual move, the moment he reached the house, he mixed a second rum and cola.

  * * *

  Emma Grassi strolled along the walk beside her evening’s date. They reached the steps to the wide front porch of her large house. Light shone through the living room windows, showing that her sister remained downstairs.

  At the door, Brady pulled her into his arms. His mouth covered hers. She felt nothing. Another nowhere evening. There’d been no man who had stirred her since…She pushed back all thoughts of the one who had sent her hormones racing.

  She reached for the door. “Thanks for dinner and the movies.”

  “It was fun. I’ll call.” He bounded down the steps and walked to his car.

  Emma sighed. What was wrong with her? She entered the house and slumped against the door. Brady, a successful attorney, single, attractive and nice hadn’t stirred any feelings. Just like the dozen or so men she’d dated in the past ten years.

  With a groan, she kicked off her heels and entered the living room. “Hi.” She sat on the couch beside her sister. “This is a switch. Everything all right?”

  Claire nodded. “For the first time since we left Kev
in, Brian went to bed without a asking me to stay until he was asleep.”

  Emma studied her sister’s face. The bruises from the beating had finally faded. “And you?”

  “I’m great!” Claire’s laughter brought memories of happier days. “I waited up for you to let you know Brian’s starting at the Fern Lake Academy on Monday. Thanks for handling the tuition.”

  Emma leaned against the dark green cushions. “Glad to help.”

  “I wish I could do something for you. Since Mom died, you’ve been here for the four of us. You’ve a birthday soon. Would you like a party?”

  “Manon and I have back to back birthdays and so do you. Rafe is a Cancer, too. We’ve something planned on the Fourth. You’re invited to a Cancer birthday party.”

  “Don’t remind me. Remember how you accused me of being selfish because ours are one day apart?”

  Emma chuckled. “All because you wanted your own cake.” She closed her eyes. Those days had changed in an instant when their mother died and she had stepped into those shoes. The youngest of the brood had recently graduated from college at the same time as she’d received her Master’s as a nurse practitioner.

  “The date?” Claire asked.

  Emma shrugged. “Nothing special.”

  “Has there been anyone since high school?” Claire shook her head. “You’ve clung to your memories longer than I stayed with Kevin.”

  “Let’s not go there.”

  “You should. Like that song from South Pacific, you need to wash that man right out of your life.”

  Emma rose. Did Claire think she hadn’t tried and been stopped by the Cancer propensity for clinging to old things? “Good night.” She walked to the door. How could she rid herself of the memories and yesteryear’s dreams? Once she and Chad had planned to be together forever. He’d moved on and up. He’s become a Hollywood star with women falling over him.

  She undressed, showered and went to bed. Tomorrow she had hospital rounds to make and a day spent with her family. Monday meant another set of rounds and office hours.

  On Monday morning a few minutes before nine, Emma parked behind the ranch house Manon had converted for the offices of her family practice. The door to the basement X-ray facility was open. Emma strode around to the front door and waved to Claire, now the office manager. “I see Manon beat me.”

  Claire rolled her eyes. “She beat us all. Hospital patients okay?”

  “Yes.” The clock chimed the hour. “Time to begin.”

  Claire looked up. “Dr. Marshall’s restless. She pulled all the charts for today. I think she’ll deliver soon.”

  “Sure hope not. She has a month to go.” She strode down the hall to her office, locked her purse in a desk drawer and slipped on a lab coat. She hurried to Manon’s lair. Her partner paced around the room.

  “Morning,” Emma said.

  Manon grinned. “And a good one to you.” She rubbed her belly. “I pray this will end soon.”

  Emma laughed. “Not this soon. We’re too busy.”

  “Agreed. Just becoming weary and feeling fat. How were rounds? Any problems?”

  “Calm. All are responding to treatment. I’m waiting for the test results. Mrs. Bren is scheduled to leave when there’s a bed available ad Fern Lake Nursing and Rehabilitation.”

  “That’s great. Oh, John Reid will be by for lunch. His treat. I’m glad he decided to unretire for the duration. We won’t have to worry about patient stealing.”

  Emma smiled. “I’ll enjoy working with him again. He always treated nurses like they had brains.”

  Their new nursing assistant knocked on the open door. “Patients are set for you.” Karen said.

  Manon beat Emma to the door. “To work. I’ll take rooms two and four.’

  “I’m on my way.” Emma strode to room one.

  She spent the morning examining and treating patients. Most of them had chosen Manon when she first arrived in town. Emma saw two new patients. One she referred to Manon. Always there were a few who insisted on a doctor rather than a practitioner.

  At noon Dr. Reid arrived with two large insulated bags from Burger Bounty. While they ate, they talked about his hours and the list of patients with ongoing problems.

  At one, he rose. “See you next Monday.”

  Manon laughed. “There’s no need to start then. I’ve three weeks before I reach my due date.”

  The gray haired man grinned. “I can see the child has dropped. You also rub your stomach a lot.”

  “False labor. It’s happened several times during the last week or so.”

  “We’ll see.” He saluted and strode away.

  By four, Emma saw the last patient on her schedule. She went to her office to complete the records on the ones she’d seen. Her sister appeared in the doorway. “I’m leaving. Invoices have been sent to the billing service. So glad you and Manon decided to use her.”

  “So am I. My weekends used to be filled with sending bills, sometimes two or three times for the same patient. I’ll see you and Brian at the house.”

  Claire paused. “I need to thank Manon for recommending Brian to the Academy. He loves it there.”

  “I’m glad. Go so I can finish. See you at dinner.” She returned to the computer.

  Some time later, Manon strode into the office. “Ready to go.”

  “Just finished.” She logged out, opened the drawer and removed her purse. “You okay?”

  “Tired of sitting. Tired of waiting. When this child arrives and I’m back, I’ll make sure you collect your debt.”

  “I’ll collect.”

  “How?”

  “I’ve considered two options. A cruise or a trip to California. I believe Dr. Reid could be persuaded to stay a bit longer.”

  “He sure seemed eager at lunch.”

  They walked out together. Emma watched her friend drive away. Hopefully all would go well. She hoped Dr. Reid’s prediction was wrong. By the end of July, Manon would have the baby and by October the California trip would be on.

  A laugh rose from her belly. Though a cruise sounded like fun, she favored the second option. California, here I come. She would visit the man starring in the memories that kept her tied to the past. Drat my Cancer sun. She and Manon had often talked about how hard getting rid of old things seemed to be hard.

  Chad Morgan. His face floated in hr thoughts. In high school they’d been a couple. She had loved him and believed he loved her. He hadn’t. Though she tried to forget the dreams, fantasies wove through her thoughts every night. She had to face him in person, in his own milieu, to put an end to the dream he’d forgotten and she had remembered.

  From the tabloids and gossip shows. He’d changed from the boy she still remembered. Pictures accompanying the stories of his many affairs often caught her eye from the checkout counter at the grocery store, pictures and stories that shocked and angered her. Yet her dreams still clung like the fur of a white angora cat to a black dress.

  * * *

  After a restless night, Chad woke to the rumbling of thunder and the ping of rain hitting the windows. He dragged himself from the massive bed and planted his feet on the lush carpet. When he’d returned from the party, he’d had another rum and cola. Maybe two, an action in defiance of his usual routine of his usual single drink. He’d used the alcohol to escape the thinking of the past and the future.

  He staggered to the bathroom and hit the shower. Water pelting from the various jets began the process of waking him. After showering and shaving, he dressed and ran down stairs to the kitchen to see what he could find for breakfast. The large room possessed every appliance a gourmet chef could desire. He laughed at the irony. All this for a man who could barely boil water. The kitchen had been his mother’s dream. Her death two years ago had left the room barely used except for the single cup coffee maker, toaster and microwave or an occasional caterer. He’d grown used to eating in one of the area’s many restaurants.

  Chad popped a slice of bread into the toaster,
poured a glass of orange juice and brewed a single cup of coffee. Now what?

  As his thoughts churned, last night’s anger and frustration popped up like the toast. His distaste for another go at Storm surfaced. He couldn’t. Not without a reward at the end. How could he make his dream of other roles happen? Gregson couldn’t or wouldn’t fight unless he signed contracts for two more appearances as Storm, fighter for justice and lover of women. Two more films meant two more years in limbo. By then the studio would have ideas for at least one more. The treadmill stretched to infinity.

  He could face his agent. The man had steered his career. He understood Chad’s desire for more…but… . And there was always a but. Money. Chad pounded the table. He needed time. He needed space. He needed a friend. His thoughts turned to Rob. His friend’s second book was due for release soon. A third was planned.

  Lightning ripped across the sky. The sudden burst of an idea struck. He would travel to Fern Lake and talk to Rob. The day they’d signed the contract for movie rights to the first book flashed into Chad’s thoughts. He had vowed to make the movie and some how, he would.

  He spread peanut butter on the toast. Fern Lake. People said you couldn’t go home again. No one had ever said you couldn’t visit. He bit into the toast and gulped some orange juice. After finishing, he sipped coffee and hit Gregson’s number.

  “Leaving for a few days. Need a quiet place to think.” He disconnected and dashed upstairs to pack.

  An hour later, he checked his duffle. He had enough casual clothes to last a week or longer. His wallet with his alternate identity rested in his pocket. He tucked the movie script for Rob’s book, his real identity documents, and plenty of cash into the bag.

  I’m out of here. In the garage he stowed his duffle in the Ferrari’s trunk. He considered leaving his phone behind but he didn’t know Rob’s number or exactly where his friend lived. The Grantlan’s mansion had been sold. He and Rob hadn’t talked for months. During that time, Rob had married his high school sweetheart and adopted their niece.