Again (12 page)

Catherine stifled a smile as she passed him and led the way.

≈

They made their way back to the ships where they found Cedric with his foot perched upon a crate and leaning close to Emelie.  She was giggling at something Cedric was saying, oblivious to those around her.

“Well done, Cedric.  I see you’ve managed to take care of Emelie quite well!”  Jonathan called to him. 

Cedric and Emelie both leaped apart abruptly, faces flushed.

Jonathan was the only one who seemed at ease during the awkward silence that followed.

Catherine was too aware of how close Jonathan stood to her, his arm warm against hers.
 
It was making it difficult for her to think.  She just could not stay any longer.

Looking at the sky, Catherine said, “I trust enough time has passed.  Cedric, would you bring our horses?
”

After a nod from Jonathan, Cedric ran off.

He moved closer still and whispered to Catherine, “I pray I will see you again before I set sail.”

When she looked at him, her heart quickened, for his eyes held a promise of his heart, his soul, and whispered silent words of passion, love, and honesty.
 
She savored the moments his lips touched her hand and the gentle squeeze he gave it before helping her
onto her horse. 

Catherine lost herself in the warmth his nearness enveloped her in.  So lost, she did not see the white horse standing in the shade of the trees, the figure of a man hidden by the horse, or the narrowed eyes of Galen.

After a quick look over her shoulder at the people walking about the port, she urged her horse in the direction of the castle.
 
Emelie followed close behind.

“Farewell, Jonathan,” Catherine whispered under her breath.

Chapter 11

Eryn wrapped her arms around herself a little tighter and stared into the blackened pit.
 
Last night’s lusty blaze was just a memory.
 
All that remained of it now were pieces of charred wood, crushed beer cans, and an empty bottle of wine.
 
Just remnants of a few friends having a good time.
 
So different from the blaze it held last night that was so alive,
so real.
 
But the disintegrating pieces of wood were now void of any energy, as dull and muted as the fog that surrounded her.

It was early.
 
Dawn was barely breaking through the darkness.
 
Not even the gulls were motivated enough to be up this early.
 
She’d hardly slept last night, thinking of the blazing fire, haunted by those she had seen surrounding it.
 
No, she couldn’t wait.
 
She had to get out here and see it again up close.
 

She knew what she had seen, and it wasn’t what Bryce had seen, which was a bunch of teenagers having a few beers.
 
No, Eryn had witnessed older, weathered sailors, in shirts with huge, billowing sleeves, pants cropped off below their knees, feet bare.
 
Some had bandanas topping off their long hair, some in ponytails.
 
She saw women she could only describe as wenches, dressed in medieval-type peasant dresses, their breasts nearly falling out of the bodices, hanging all over the men, and laughing at some crude joke Eryn couldn’t hear.
 
It was as if she had caught a glimpse of another dimension from which she was separated by a transparent wall.
 
She had felt like an intruder, looking through someone else’s eyes, someone else’s life.

Another life.
 
My life.
 
The possibility made her heart hammer double time.
 
And if she was going to be honest with herself, it was freaking her out a little bit. 
Okay
.
 
She dragged in a lungful of air.
 
I can have an open mind.
 
Let’s just say it was true?
 
The date on her computer, her dream of the man with the mesmerizing eyes, the vision of the man with the velvety kiss, the boat on the beach, the voices last night, the fire.
 
She recounted each one.
 
They all seemed to fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

Reincarnation.
 
Okay, it was a possibility, wasn’t it?
  
But why me?
 
Why now?
 
Maybe she was one of those who remembered a past life.
 
One of those case studies psychologists write about.

She puffed her cheeks and let her breath out slowly.
 
Reincarnation.
 
She knew she was grasping for straws, but she needed some sort of explanation for what she had been experiencing.
 

Eryn willed herself to clear her mind.  Just one more vision, one more voice would convince her.
 
“Okay,” she said out loud.
 
“I’m listening.”  She strained her ears for some unusual noise, but the only reply was the sound of the rolling waves.  She laughed at herself.  What did she expect?  A conversation from beyond?
 
For some door to appear in front of her?
 
A door through which she could step into the past and maybe find this man from a life long gone?

She looked around, only slightly relieved when she found nothing had changed.
 
Actually, she was a little disappointed.  Whoever this dream-man was, whoever had gotten into her head last night while she and Bryce were on the beach, has gotten her attention.  So now what?

She glanced to the horizon, as if the answer would suddenly rise out of the water.
 
Nothing.
 
She turned to face the length of the beach and began her run.  The air was heavy, almost palpable, as she cut a path through the moisture-laden fog.
 
She tried to focus on her steps, rhythmic and silent, keeping in time with her breathing, but her mind kept tripping over the possibilities.

“Who are you?” she whispered.  A soft rush of warm air brushed past her and then was gone, but there was no breeze.
 
It was more like a sigh that wrapped around her.  Like an imprint of a feeling, a feeling long forgotten that hung on the fringes of her mind, just out of reach.

Eryn followed the beach to the cliffs, where the high tide stopped her from going around the rocks.  Slapping her hand against the rough surface, she turned and leaned against it, heaving in the moist air.  The fog’s strength wavered under the glare of the sun, taking on an orange glow.
 
Scanning the beach around her, she took in all the little details.
 
It dawned on her how many little things escaped her notice after living at the beach for so long.
  
Like the way the waves stretched its fingers up the sand before disappearing out of sight.  How the ocean’s color reflected the mood of the sky, or how each ray of sunlight dropped a single diamond upon the sharp peaks of the water.
 
She felt so small standing on the edge of the ocean’s vastness.

She realized she felt more alive this morning than she had in a long time.
  
Her skin tingled with a new awareness of something…more.

 
“Damn,” she muttered, looking at her watch.
 
As much as she wanted to stay, she had to get back.
 
Hugging herself against the cool air, she tried to focus.
 
There was something hovering just beyond her memory, but she couldn’t grasp it.
 
She shook her head in frustration.

A quick sprint helped to shake off the chill settling in her bones.
 
She drew in deep breaths and the moist, salty air moved through her lungs, exhilarating her in a way that brought her to the brink of laughter.
 
When was the last time she did that?
 

≈

More often than not, Brandi spent the evenings at Eryn’s house, legs wrapped around the barstool legs, popping olives in her mouth as she watched Eryn cook.  It didn’t really bother Eryn much.
 
It was as if her friend was part of the décor.
 
Brandi’s world rotated around Eryn and Bryce.
 
The two of them gave Brandi firm ground to stand on when her life with her fellow actors and party-goers got shaky.
 
Which was often.

Eryn watched from the corner of her eye as Brandi flipped through the latest tabloid, wine glass in hand.
 
She was grateful Brandi wasn’t too talkative tonight, because her own thoughts were bouncing off of each other, hitting up against logic, imagination, and research.
 
A single afternoon at the library gave her entirely too much information for her to grasp in one sitting.
 
She read about encounters with master souls, past life regression sessions, and people transforming their lives because of what they remembered.
 
Eryn started to believe in what she read.
 
It helped explain what was happening to her.
 
The only thing she couldn’t figure out was
why
it was happening to her.

She wasn’t exactly sure what to do with what she just learned, but she wanted to talk to someone about it.
 
She wanted to hear from someone that she wasn’t delusional.

Maybe she could test the waters with Brandi tonight, she thought.
 
Eryn could, and usually did, tell her just about everything.
 
Brandi knew her as well as Bryce did, and perhaps better.
 
Maybe it wouldn’t come out sounding too crazy, and even if it did, Brandi was quirky enough that she would probably take it in stride.
 
Before she could talk herself out of it, Eryn asked.

“What do you think about reincarnation?”  Eryn tried her best to sound nonchalant as she slid a knife quickly across a sharpening steel.

Brandi’s brows came together over an article she was reading.
 

Maybe she didn’t hear, Eryn thought.
 
Maybe that’s a good thing.
 
Maybe…

“You mean that living before stuff?” Brandi finally asked.

Eryn didn’t realize she had been holding her breath.
 
She let it out, hoping she didn’t sound as nervous as she felt.
 
“Yeah.  That living before stuff.”

Her friend looked thoughtful. “Why would you want to have more than one life?  I mean, it would be like watching a bad movie over and over again.”

“Well, not necessarily,” Eryn disagreed.  “What if the movie wasn’t so bad in the first place?”

“Yeah, but what if it was?”

“Then you could come back and do it differently.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah.”  In spite of herself, Eryn began to get excited about what she was saying.
 
She put down the knife and leaned on the table eager to share her thoughts.
 
“Like, if you knew you were a mean, miserable person in a different life and everybody hated you, then you could come back and make it right again.”

Brandi rolled her eyes.  “Oh brother!
 
Now you’re starting to sound like those rejects that have those palm reading shops.”  She thought for a moment.  “You know, I remember seeing in a movie once that the Buddhist monks think that even worms used to be someone’s mom.”

Eryn straightened up, feeling deflated.
 
Asking Brandi had definitely been a bad idea.

Brandi leaned forward as if in conspiracy.  “I went to one of those
psychics
a long time ago,” Brandi confided, crooking her fingers to form quotation marks.  “You know, to find out if I was going to make it in acting or not.”

Eryn raised an eyebrow in surprise.
 
Brandi would have been the last person she’d have thought would seek out a fortune teller.
 
She would more than likely sleep with someone for acting jobs.

Brandi straightened her back, her lips curled in a sneer.  “Anyway, it cost me seventy-five bucks for her to tell me I had some karmic energy or something that needed to be fixed.”  She rolled her eyes.  “Right.
 
Like I need fixing.”  She finished the rest of her wine in one gulp, as if to get rid of a bad taste in her mouth.
 
“You’re not getting all weird on me now, are you?”

Eryn felt heat rise up her cheeks.
 
She shrugged, deciding it was no use. “I saw a program about it the other day,” she lied.  “I was just making conversation.”

Brandi’s eyes lit up as Bryce walked into the kitchen.  “Hey Bryce!  Guess what?
 
Eryn thinks we’re all recycling ourselves.”  At his uncomprehending stare, she went on, her hands animatedly flipping back and forth.  “You know, dying, coming back to life, dying, coming back to life.”

Eryn gritted her teeth.
 
She grabbed a carrot and started chopping.
 
She could feel Bryce’s unasked question.
 
What the hell is Brandi talking about?