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she stood.
Tyler swung open the car door and slid from behind the wheel, then motioned for
her to cross.
    A quick look
around assured her there was no sign of the other man. Undoubtedly he was
merely fetching his auto, as well, Keelin decided. Shaking away the odd feeling
his furtive actions had given her, she waited for a break in traffic, then
raced across the street.
    A short ride
took them south, toward the center of the city. Tyler drove in silence,
stopping just before crossing the Chicago River. A doorman opened her car door,
and as she stepped out, a valet traded places with Tyler, who then escorted her
into a lovely two-story restaurant with glass walls overlooking the water. The
tables were draped with white linen, their centers decorated with bouquets of
fresh cut flowers mixed with herbs.
    Taking
pleasure where she could, Keelin inhaled the fragrance and absorbed the ambiance.
She was certain she wasn't going to enjoy what was coming. Tensely, she waited
for the inquisition.
    It seemed as
though Tyler was in no hurry. They perused menus and ordered. The waiter
quickly brought a bottle of Merlot, and after Tyler approved it, filled two
stemmed glasses. Keelin sipped at the red wine. As tired as she was, one glass
would be her limit or Tyler would have to carry her out of the restaurant. The
wine was relaxing her when he finally got down to business.
    "So tell
me about this unusual ability of yours."
    "I dream
through other people's eyes," she told him again. "I cannot explain
it any more accurately."
    "So, in
your dream, you see what someone else, who is awake, is seeing at that very
moment?" When she nodded, he asked, "How long has this been going
on?"
    "Always,
I guess. When I was young, I simply thought all my dreams were of the normal
sort. And as I began to sort out the difference between real dreams and
these...visions...I assumed everyone had like experiences. Then I learned that
no one else in my family had the...well, gift or curse, however you want to
think of it. Except Gran, of course. My father's mother, Moira. She explained
things to me."
    The way Tyler
was looking at her, Keelin couldn't tell if he believed her or not.
    "And what
exactly did she tell you?"
    "That I
was given a responsibility which I couldn't put aside. That I was the one to
inherit because I was strong enough to deal with the consequences."
    Not that she felt strong. If she could give the
supposed gift away, she'd do it in a heartbeat, just as she'd told her
grandmother at age fifteen, after the first of the darker episodes that she
called her night terrors.
    Always a wise
woman, Moira had merely said a person couldn't fight her fate. It had taken
more than a decade and an unnecessary death to convince Keelin of it.
    After the
waiter had delivered their salads and a basket of bread, Tyler continued his
line of questioning. "What kind of consequences?"
    Not about to
share her personal traumas with a stranger, Keelin made light of the issue.
"Having to deal with the distrustful sort who thinks I make my living
spinning fairy tales." She punctuated the observation with a forkful of
salad and a piece of crusty bread. Both were delicious.
    But Tyler
didn't seem about to let her off the hook with a joke. "How do you make your living?"
    "Herbs."
    "What?
You grow or sell them for cooking?"
    "And for
healing."
    A dark brow
shot up at that one. Keelin was used to skepticism when it came to alternative therapies.
She wasn't about to try to convince him that many modern medicines were based
on herbal remedies.
    "So was
it herbs that brought you here from Ireland? Or was it Cheryl?"
    Relieved he
wasn't going to take issue with her work, not missing the shot about his
daughter, Keelin said, "Actually, I'm here to see family. My father's
sister and brother both emigrated to the United States more than three decades
ago." She figured if she was being honest, she might as well go all the
way. Taking a big breath, she said, "Skelly McKenna is my