Buried In Buttercream

always came down to the food.
    “Did you get any of it?” Savannah asked.
    “Of course I did. I might be old, but I haven’t slowed down that much.”
    “I think we’re gonna have Dirk’s little hot dog hors d’oeurves for breakfast.”
    “With pancakes and maple syrup.”
    “Or maybe chocolate gravy on top.”
    Savannah shifted closer to her grandmother and laid her head on her shoulder, as she had so many times as a child. “What am I going to do now, Gran?” she asked her. “Where do we go from here?”
    Gran stroked her hair and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You get a good night’s sleep, darlin’. And when you wake tomorrow, you’ll know what to do. It’ll come to you with the mornin’ light.”
    With those words of comfort and sage advice, Savannah was able to drift off to sleep.

    Two hours later, she woke with a start, her nightgown drenched with a cold night sweat, her breath ragged, her heart pounding.
    She sat up in bed and tried to orient herself. Where was she? What had happened?
    Slowly, reality dawned on her. She was safe in her own bedroom. She was alive. He hadn’t killed her.
    She’s just had the nightmare. Again.
    One more time, as he had many nights since the shooting, the intruder had pointed his gun at her and pulled the trigger, over and over again. In horrifying, helpless, slow motion, she had looked down and watched as the front of the white gown she was wearing exploded in red.
    But this time, it wasn’t her white nightgown, as it had been in all the previous dreams.
    This time, she was wearing her wedding gown when he killed her.
    “Savannah? Are you all right, sugar?” Gran asked, shaking her arm. “Honey, I think you had another bad dream.”
    “Yes, a dream,” Savannah said, fighting down the fear that was making her nauseous, fighting the anger that poisoned her spirit.
    He’s gone, she told herself. Gone forever. He’ll never, never hurt me or anyone again .
    But he hurt her nearly every night. And no matter what she did, she couldn’t seem to stop him.
    “Post-traumatic stress,” the shrink had told her. “It’s to be expected after such a near-death experience. It’s perfectly normal.”
    Well, it might be normal, she had decided, but knowing that didn’t really help much at one or two in the morning when you awoke in terror ... living the horror over again and again.
    “I’m sorry, Gran,” she said, trying to take deep breaths. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
    “Don’t be silly. I been woke up plenty of times before. Your sister, Vidalia, used to wake me up every bloomin’ time there was a thunderstorm. Remember?”
    Savannah nodded and wiped her hand across her forehead, pushing the perspiration-wet hair away from her face. “It’s a wonder you got any sleep at all, considering that outta nine kids, at least one of them had a nightmare every night.”
    “I didn’t mind.” Granny rubbed her back. “Are you okay?”
    Savannah tried to banish the bloody, violent images from her mind. “Sure. I’m all right.”
    Then Savannah felt a tiny hand slip into hers as a munchkin climbed up onto the bed beside her.
    “Did you have a bad dream, Aunt Savannah?” Jillian asked as she snuggled close to her.
    Savannah considered denying it. But she believed it was best to tell children the truth as often as possible. Maybe not the whole truth, but ...
    “I did, babycakes,” she told her little niece. “But I’m fine now. Don’t you worry.”
    “I’ll sleep here beside you,” Jillian said, pulling Savannah down and making her lie next to her. “And then you won’t have any more bad dreams. You know ... like you did for me when I had the scary dream about the neighbor’s mean old cat. You let me sleep with you and that made me feel all better.”
    Savannah vaguely remembered the deed that had meant so much to her niece. But the innocence and depth of the child’s gratitude touched her heart.
    She lay down on her side and pulled the little girl against her chest. The sweetness of the contact seemed to heal the wounds ... the deepest ones that still ached.
    And just as she had wrapped her arm around her niece, from behind her grandmother’s arms slipped around her waist, holding her tight.
    Surrounded by the warmth and comfort of her family members, old and young alike, Savannah drifted into sleep once again.
    And this time it was a deep sleep
    No monsters, no bogeymen, and no armed intruders. Only love and peace.

Chapter 3
    W hen