The Crystal Circle: A Paranormal Romance Novel (5 page)

The morning of the next day was cloudy, a very rare occurrence for a city that boasts having 340 days of sunshine a year. The Lynn that reflected in her mirror was different from yesterday: smiling, beautiful, and full of hope. There was something else between her eyebrows: a delicate Line with a decisiveness that gave her a more serious look. She wore a simple dress, floral and spring like, and packed her belongings. It took her exactly one minute. After settling her bill and informing the clerk that she was leaving, she asked that they store the small suitcase for her until she returned to collect it in the evening. The man on the desk hesitated for a moment, but agreed. Within two hours, she’d found a job.

The smell of food attracted her to the small shopping center up Kampen Street. She found a small stand staffed by a perspiring man frying vegetable fritters, cutlets, and falafel. Simple and easily-made food. She was interested in a job and was immediately accepted. There was no need to present a passport, no complicated procedures. “Say, can you fry a schnitzel?” She was hired the moment she answered positively.

The owner, Ron, went out shopping and ran errands, and upon his return a couple of hours later, he was amazed to find a pile of schnitzel and fritters, the most delicious he’d ever tasted. As a gloomy Tel Avivian, Lynn couldn’t remember when she became proficient in cooking, but the results spoke for themselves. Afterward, she added creative salads and arranged the four small tables near the stand in a welcoming and cordial manner. Ron promised to pay her salary at the end of each week.

“We’re just at the beginning of the week, but don’t worry,” he said. “You get 750 shekels per week plus food and vegetables and that’s only because you’re so successful with cutlets, so I’ve added that for you. Trust me, I wouldn’t pay just anybody that much.” Naturally, he didn’t mention that the worker who’d resigned the day before was paid 900 per week, or that he believed he might get something else from this beautiful young woman who suddenly happened by his stand. So, when he saw her gaze pass on the bundle of money in his hand, he immediately paid her an advance of 150 shekels.

In the afternoon, her feet took her, without giving it any thought, to the back of the Herods Hotel. She didn’t notice that, all the way there, just a few hundred meters behind her, a swarthy man followed her. When she got to the hotel, he looked at her, slowed down for a moment, and then continued on past. The usual bustle was going on behind the hotel - vendors, cooks, deliveries, and, of course, the people who came to ask for food.

Hassan greeted her with a big smile. “Come and sit down, Miss Michal.” He pointed to the wooden crates scattered behind the service door. Lynn thanked him. “This time only vegetables, please,” she requested.

Shmulik, apparently Hassan’s boss, approached them. “Hassan, you got a girlfriend over there?” He grinned, wiped his greasy hands on a gray apron, and looked at her. Lynn clenched her lips, preferring to focus on the carrot salad she was holding.

“No, she’s just a guest,” Hassan said gently.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Shmulik,” said the man, his greasy hair and bloodshot eyes making him even less appealing. He surveyed the entire length of her body and then reached out to her. “I’m in charge of the food distribution around here. What’s your name?”

“Michal.” She felt obligated to cooperate. “Michal, where are you living?”

She swallowed and tried with all her might to control the rebellious tear that poked out the corner of her eye. She didn’t answer.

Shmulik sat next to her and smiled broadly. He told her in a soft and quiet voice, “Michal, you’re not the first one this has happened to. All kinds of people come here at different, unsettled periods in their lives, and we help a little bit, and then they recover and return to their lives.” He waited a moment, and her reluctance to answer confirmed his assumptions. “You don’t strike me as someone who would...” he hesitated, “hang around. Do you have a place to sleep tonight?”

She thought about the nature of his intentions and decided that she had nothing to lose. She shook her head and clenched her teeth so as not to let slip the sigh that threatened to erupt.

“Listen, Michal, we have a room here in the hotel for the girls who work the night shift - waitresses, room-service, the morning cleaning crew. If you want, I could find out if there’s a spare bed for tonight, and you could sleep there. There’s also a separate bathroom for the girls. What do you say?”

Lynn looked at him properly for the first time and saw honest compassion in his eyes. If he had ulterior motives, they were not apparent. “Really? Could you?”

“Yes, I’ll find out.”

In a few minutes he returned and told her the accommodation issue was sorted. “Are you doing anything right now?” he asked.

Lynn hesitated, and then said, “Not at the moment...”

“I’m guessing you’re pretty new in the city, right?”

She nodded and looked at the tips of her shoes.

“I think it’s important that you know a few truths about Eilat. About the city the tourists don’t see. The real Eilat.” He lit a cigarette and told her about Eilat’s darker sides, of the people who came from all over the country, even outside of Israel, and stayed for a short while or longer so that the distance and the sea would make them forget about their lives and give perspective and reason to what life after Eilat held for them. “There’s something special in the air, in the dryness,” he assured her, “that helps clear your troubles and open your heart. And I’m sure you also carry some heavy burden with you...”

Lynn nodded, a salty tear appearing in the corner of her eye, and, again, she felt like someone or something was challenging her, trying to harden her path in this world, but she remained silent. This time she noticed a swarthy man sitting at a distance and reading his cellphone messages. She had seen him a few times before. Didn’t he pass by her before on the promenade? Was it accidental or intentional?

“If, one day, you could save some money or want roommates, there’s a place that would really suit you,” Shmulik went on. “We call it the Uprooted Camp.”

And so it was that, from sweaty Shmulik’s mouth, Lynn first heard about the trailer park, which was a random collection of trailers, trucks, and wagons attached to cars parked on the edge of Eilat, on the coast near the border with Jordan. The municipality was less strict with those who resided in that region. Displaced people washed up from society, or those who preferred to disappear for a while, would go there and maybe even live there from time to time. They set themselves up there in a non-binding communal life.

“It’s a nice place by the sea. I believe that, in exchange for a few pennies, you’ll find some guy or girl who’d share a trailer with you.” Lynn thanked him and said that it sounded interesting. Two hours later, she was asleep in the waitress’ room after collecting her suitcase from the hotel.

It seems there’s some hope
, was her last thought before falling asleep.
I’ve got a job and maybe a place to stay... it’ll be fine.

Rules of the Crystal Circle

1.        
   Members of the Crystal Circle are forbidden from taking out any document or object confirming the existence of the group.
   
2.        
   Separation of groups: Crystal Circle group members are not to be aware of the existence of other groups such as the Emerald Circle or the Sapphire Circle. The guide may transfer information from one group to another.
   
3.        
   The soul’s plan has many paths, but only one goal, which, if not reached in this round, will be reached in another round, future or parallel.
   

06/21/2013 – Sixth day of disappearance

She came closer with faltering steps, walking in her sandals on the small pebbles with a soft creak, hoping for a streak of good fortune. It was early in the morning. The sun had just sent probing rays over the mountains, coloring the Gulf of Eilat with thousands of twinkling flecks. The lazily curving coastline toward Jordan was filled with twenty or more trailers and various permanent tents. Some bore satellite dishes and clotheslines stretched between them bearing towels and clothes flapping slightly in the pleasant morning breeze. A small brown-skinned girl, her hair fixed up in a black, curly ponytail and wearing shorts with prints of orange bears, came out of a trailer.

“Mom, I’m going swimming!” She skipped lightly over the beach that was composed of millions of sharp rocks that had already begun to dazzle the eye with their whiteness and happily rushed into the sea. Within seconds, she was already swimming in the waters of the Gulf as she was accustomed to do every day.

They don’t seem like vacationers,
Lynn thought.
Looks like they’ve been here a while.
Out of one of the more remote caravans came a man in a blue bathing suit with a gold chain around his neck. He held a can of beer in his hand and chuckled thickly back at someone who was still in the trailer. “Come on, the sea’s calm… we can go fishing or something.” A minute later, his friend also came out the doorway holding an identical can of beer, a towel wrapped around his waist. He shaded his eyes with the other hand and squinted. He looked at least fifty-five.

“Yeah, good sea. Come on, set it up,” he said and went back inside.

Lynn sat on a random collection of rocks and observed her surroundings with interest. Her eyes slowly absorbed antennas, buckets containing bougainvillea bushes, fishing nets anchored with rocks, baby carriages, and bicycles. From one of the trailers in the back, the one with the purple bench, came a man who was very tall and tanned with short reddish-brown hair, his ear pierced with a small earring. He looked about the same age as her, or at least around his thirties. He reminded her of some combination of Keanu Reeves in
The Matrix and David Hasselhoff in Baywatch.
He was wearing a bathing suit and had a towel slung over his shoulder. In his hand was a small toiletries bag, and he set off for the distant showers about a third of a mile away from the trailers. As soon as she saw him, her attention was drawn to his obvious limp. It seemed his right leg was shorter than the left. He didn’t seem bothered by it. There was something that drew her attention other than his strange walk, something about the energies he radiated, a kind of optimistic freshness. It was hard for her to explain. She followed him with her eyes until he disappeared over the hill.

Mothers hurried their children and washed their faces in the water from water containers. The smell of fried omelet made her salivate. She recalled that no morsel of food had passed her lips since last night, when she had eaten the usual leftovers delivered by the friendly kitchen staff in the back alley of the Herods Hotel. She liked this trailer park. It was clear that this was not a housing project organized by the municipality, but rather a spontaneous organization of people. There was life and freedom. She felt it. The guy who went to take a shower returned with his rolling gait, passing close by her. He saw her from afar, and as he passed, he turned to look at her and paused. His brown eyes took her in, and something moved inside her, as if opening a curtain to a window whose view was a mystery.

“Good morning!” He smiled, his soft voice reminding her of dark velvet, pleasant and rough to a certain extent.

“Morning,” she replied, and he looked at her curiously.

“Can I help you? You’re not from round here.”

“No, I’m not from here,” she replied quietly. “No need. Thank you.”

“They call me Dave. I live here in the second trailer. I made a huge breakfast, but there’s no way I’ll be able to finish it by myself. Would you care to join me?” His invitation was followed by a broad gesture, and his smile revealed a deep dimple on his left cheek. Up close, he looked younger than she had previously thought him to be - early thirties, maybe. He caught her hesitation and anticipation just before she shook her head and said, “No, really, thank you.”

“Come on. There’s fresh salad and a special omelet with herb spicing. I’m renowned around here for my culinary skills. You should join…” he continued to plead. She hesitated for another moment, and then got up from her painful sitting position. She couldn’t avoid acceding to the adventure and natural kindness that flowed from the man nor could she ignore the sounds her stomach made as he mentioned the omelet.

“I’m Lynn,” she said, holding out her hand to him. His handshake was strong and rugged, yet Lynn felt the warmth and tenderness behind the calloused hand. With him, she felt there was no point in the ‘Michal’ mask. When she stood up, she was surprised to find that Dave was tall, taller than her. He reminded her of someone, but she could hardly remember who. In any case, her past was like a thick and slippery soup she couldn’t hold onto. She skipped after him into the trailer in two long strides. Lynn sent a quick glance around the inside of the trailer. His things were everywhere, but stacked neatly. There were many shelves with very few clothes stacked on them, but many books, utensils, and accessories meant for someone who designs, builds, and renovates on his own.

A bowl of fresh salad stood on the table, and Dave was standing beside the small stove, pouring a little oil into the pan, expertly breaking the eggs. He grated some feta cheese over the eggs and scattered herbs that could only be identified by their different smells: oregano, hyssop, dill, and more. He generously added salt and pepper and smiled a little smile, as if confiding with her. Within minutes, she was sharing one of the best meals she’d had in her life. The omelet was moist and full of flavor and cheese, the grilled and buttered toast was perfect, and the salad... She ate and ate and failed to notice that Dave was looking at her, amused, his plate half-full. He handed her more and more from each dish, went to make coffee, and then casually said, “You were hungry.” She nodded and drank some more of the fresh orange juice, then settled back and looked around, and then looked at him. His place was neat, but it lacked a woman’s touch.

“You live alone?” she fumbled. Dave approached her with two cups of coffee, put them on the table, and sat down heavily. She noticed that his disability prevented him from sitting down as normal people would, but rather a little on his side. Nevertheless, not a single drop of coffee spilled.

“I’ve been by myself almost always.”

“Meaning?” She was intrigued.

He looked at her and thought that she seemed very interested and lacked the evil of people who sought to harass wherever they could. It had been several days since he’d had the chance to have a good talk. He swallowed and explained. “My mother died when I was eighteen. Since then, I’ve been pretty much on my own. Livelihood, housing... everything.”

“And… a girlfriend?” She smiled shyly, and he replied honestly. “There have been some, they came and went. Those who came didn’t stay long enough. I stayed by myself, just myself and Tom...” She looked to where Dave was looking and saw the spotted cat, white with light-brown spots, like Dave’s eyes. Tom heard his name and rushed in a lazy, panther-like leap to approach his master. He threw a suspicious look at Lynn with slightly narrowed eyes and began to rub himself against Dave’s legs.

“Tom the Cat,” she smiled. “Like the app.”

He looked up at her. “Yeah, like the app. I looked for a good name, but couldn’t come up with any other ideas. Seems like creativity isn’t my strongest suit.”

She looked back at the cat rubbing against him. Dave’s scars were barely visible on his leg, but once she saw them, they were hard to ignore. She was curious again. “Hope I’m not bothering you with my questions.”

“No, of course not,” smiled Dave. “Ask.”

“Where did you get the scars on your legs?”

“An accident,” he said and added, “at a very young age.” He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t press. Dave was confused, but preferred not to encourage her to explore further at such an early stage of their relationship. To him, it was as clear as the Eilat sun that their relationship wouldn’t end with this breakfast. The energies hidden within this beautiful woman sitting across from him and the fragility of her situation, which objectively looked a little desperate, made him want to protect her and care for her. She stirred his blood. His heart pounded at a rate foreign to him.

“Tell me, Lynn, you already know so much about me, but I… what do I know about you? Apart from the fact that you’re a beautiful young woman... genuinely beautiful, in fact.”

Lynn blushed and thanked him. “I don’t have much to say... really.”

“Everyone has a history, a place they come from, ambitions they want to fulfill in life.” Dave lowered his voice and gently went on, “A family...”

“You’re right.” She sighed and moved the fork inadvertently on the table. “I’m alone. I had a boyfriend for many years, but recently, a few weeks ago, we broke up...”

Dave put his hand to his mouth and tried to meet her eyes. He grabbed her hand instinctively and immediately let go and looked down. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“It’s fine. Don’t be sorry. It had to end at some point. He was married.” Lynn said it aloud for the first time. The hope that once broke her heart was now gone. Fragmented images of the both of them appeared in her mind: she and Jacques on a ship, Jacques bringing her a pizza... but, suddenly, all that past didn’t flood her with emotions. It was as if she was watching a movie about a stranger. Odd. Seven years had evaporated. Was she so impassive?

“Were you together for a long time?” asked Dave.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Sure. Sure,” Dave said gallantly. “Parents? Family? Whatever you choose to tell me. You just intrigue me.”

Lynn thought for a moment and added, “Nothing special. My parents passed away. I live in a rented apartment in Tel Aviv and have a boring job in sales. I mean... I
lived
there. I
had
a job… I don’t have a spotted cat or the sea at my window, and I don’t want anything to do with my gray and disgusting Tel Aviv past.” She’d raised her voice without noticing.

Dave was fascinated. He leaned over the table, his head resting on his elbows and his eyes sparkling. “Go on. I’m with you, Lynn.” His voice was warm and he seemed understanding and sympathetic, and she – well, it had been a very long while since she’d had an attentive ear.

She added, “I feel like a new life has opened up for me. Like someone upstairs gave me a second chance, and I’m not going to waste it. On the one hand...” Then she blurted out what had been on her mind for several days but hadn’t had anyone to share with. “I found a job here in Eilat. I have a positive feeling. Everything’s working out. But...” She bit her lip.

“What?” He was very attentive.

“On the other hand, I feel persecuted. Like someone’s following me. As if there are people looking for me. I don’t know what they want. It’s scary.”

“We could look into it together,” he said. Not for a moment did he think she was lying or experiencing any kind of paranoia. He felt the truth in her words and concerns. He said ‘together’ as though they’d already decided that this would be a common task She liked that very much. “So... did you really see you were being followed? Why didn’t you contact the police, anyway?”

“It’s not like I can point to anyone specific, and, besides, they haven’t hurt me... yet... so what would I complain about? And maybe I’m just imagining it. There’s no reason for anyone to follow me. It’s not like I’m a spy or anything.” Lynn paused, thinking that perhaps she’d given out too much information to a stranger.

Dave’s face warmed up with a smile. Around his eyes were crinkly laugh lines, evidence of a person who knew how to laugh and have a positive attitude about life. When he laughed and threw his head back, he looked even younger, maybe only twenty-eight.

Lynn continued. “I see occasional flashbacks, fragments of memory with blood. It’s pretty scary. It belongs to my memories, but I can’t put my finger on it. It’s as if...” She paused to think and sighed deeply, “as if I have voids, gaps in memory. My life seems like a movie with black, maybe dark segments between the pictures…” She shuddered.

“Like a film by Pedro Almodóvar.” He smiled in a hopeless attempt to cheer her up. She looked at him with a cold, sad gaze. “I apologize for my unsuccessful humor. So how long have you been feeling like this?” asked Dave, placing his hand on the table between them.

“I have no idea. Maybe the past week, ever since I woke up in Tel Aviv with a kind of brain fog.” Lynn rallied then and smiled confidently. “But don’t worry about me. I’ve been around here and there in Eilat for about five days, and I’ve already found a job.”