Summer's Path

by Scott Blum

  When Don heard this, he turned his attention to Miranda and found that he couldn’t focus on her face. As he relaxed, his focus returned, but so did his depth perception. Everything moved much closer to him, as it had been before, and he felt angry when he realized that he had already lost his grip on his own body.

  “Don’t worry,” said Miranda. “It takes practice before you can live from within your body if you’re used to living outside of it. But doing this exercise on a regular basis will help.”

  “I don’t mean to interrupt,” Peter cut in, “but we’ve just arrived in downtown Ashland.”

  Don had noticed that the car had slowed down considerably, but he hadn’t looked out the window to see that they had exited the freeway until Peter’s announcement. They all sat in silence as they looked at the idyllic town square with green awnings, large hanging flower baskets, and oblivious pedestrians crossing the street in front of cars every half block.

  “Thank you so much for sharing with me,” said Miranda. “I’ve never worked with animals before, and I’m surprised by how receptive Don was to the work.”

  “He’s very special,” said Robert while looking at the puppy.

  “Yes, I can see that,” Miranda continued. “That was so inspiring! The possibilities are endless—I’m so excited.”

  “Me, too,” said Peter dryly while rolling his eyes. “I’m sure there’s a huge market for interspecies therapy.”

  “Oh, be quiet, grumpy,” said Miranda.

  “Where do you want to be dropped off, Robert?” Peter asked while looking in the rearview mirror.

  “They can come with us to Martika’s, don’t you think?” said Miranda. She turned to Robert and Don. “Our friend who runs the retreat center is very generous and I’m sure she would be happy to give you a meal before sending you on your way.”

  Don hadn’t eaten anything since they left Eugene and he was starting to get hungry.

  “That sounds wonderful,” said Robert. “We’d love to meet your friend.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  After a short drive through town, Peter turned toward the hills and entered an enclave of large country estates. The wellmanicured properties were host to an impressive diversity of farm animals, including sheep, horses, llamas, and chickens. At the base of the hill, they turned in to a graveled driveway and parked between two red barnlike buildings.

  “This is Martika’s,” said Miranda as she exited the car and stretched by bending backward and facing the sky. “I’ll go in and tell her you’ll be staying for dinner.”

  “Only if it’s not too much trouble,” said Robert.

  “I’m sure it will be fine,” she said as she walked toward the side entrance of the large house. “I’ll be right back.”

  While they were waiting for Miranda to return with her friend, Robert noticed there was an aspect of the energy of this place that felt very familiar. He had never been to southern Oregon before, but there was something recognizable about the way this particular property was landscaped. The energy flow was very distinct and reminded him of something buried deep within his past. Peter continued to make small talk, but Robert was so distracted that he began to nod at inappropriate moments.

  Then, behind him, he could feel someone approaching—the person who was responsible for the energy he was feeling. When he turned around, he saw a short blonde woman with wavy hair and a soft, content smile. She was wearing a flowing white cotton dress and carrying a silver serving tray with four glasses of ice water.

  “Robert, this is Martika,” said Miranda. “Martika, Robert.”

  “Nice to meet you, Robert.” Martika sneezed loudly and nearly dropped the tray of water glasses. “Will you be joining us for dinner?” she sniffled.

  “If it’s not too much trouble,” Robert replied. He tried to appear calm, but he couldn’t control his shaking hand, which rattled the serving tray while he removed a glass.

  “Is the room ready?” asked Peter.

  “Yes, dear. Do you remember where it is?” Martika sneezed again as politely as she could while still holding the tray.

  “Of course,” said Miranda. “We’ll see you at dinner. Thanks, Martika!” She followed Peter up the stairs to the top floor of one of the barnlike buildings.

  Martika looked around intently and asked Robert, “Do you have a dog?”

  “Yes, a black Lab,” Robert said as he pointed to Don, who was staring at Martika from the seat of the car.

  “Oh, that explains it.” She sneezed again. “I’m deathly allergic to dogs—I should probably go inside. You’re welcome to stay for dinner, but unfortunately, I’m going to have to insist on your dog remaining outside. I’ve been allergic since I was a little girl, and if I’m not careful, my throat will close up and I’ll need to spend the night in the hospital.”

  Martika returned to the house, sneezing three more times in the short distance between the driveway and the French doors that accessed the kitchen. Robert watched her go inside and then returned to the car, finding Don curled up on the floorboard, shaking violently.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Robert. “Are you okay?”

  “It’s her,” Don whimpered as he gestured toward the house.

  “Martika? What about her?” Robert knew Martika held significance in his own life, but was surprised that Don was also having such a strong reaction to her.

  “She looks just like my mother.”

  “How is that possible? You said she died of cancer.”

  “That’s what my father told me, but my aunt said that she left us right after I turned two. My aunt said my mother couldn’t handle being a parent and abandoned us.”

  This is going to get complicated, Robert thought. I’m going to need to do more research in the future before picking my next host body.

  “Ask if her name is really Mary,” continued Don. “I’m sure it’s her. I had a photograph of her that I carried with me every day until you threw my wallet into the river. And isn’t it just perfect—my own mother is allergic to me! I finally find her after all these years, and she gets physically ill whenever she’s within twenty feet of me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Robert said in a caring voice. “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not okay,” Don replied angrily. “Why is this happening to me? What good is all of this? Is this a cruel joke? Are you really here to help me, or are you just here to torture me?”

  “I had no idea she was your mother.”

  “You’re supposed to know everything.” Don’s silent words were accompanied by high-pitched yelping, and even a passerby would have assumed the young puppy was in pain.

  “No,” said Robert firmly. “The universe knows everything, and that is what brought you here today. All I knew was that your destiny wasn’t fulfilled yet, and I’m sure this is one of the big reasons why. You needed to know that your mother was still alive and confront the fact that she intentionally abandoned you.”

  “I knew it,” Don said angrily. “I knew she didn’t love me.”

  Robert sighed and caressed the side of Don’s muzzle. “I’m sure that’s not true. How can a mother not love a face like this?”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “You’re right—sorry. Okay, let me go talk to her now, and we can figure out what to do about all of this later.”

  Don let out a soft whimper. “Are you going tell her about me?”

  Robert took a deep breath and sighed loudly. “I promise I will get the conversation started.”

  He then walked across the pea-graveled driveway and knocked on the white French doors to the kitchen. Martika let him in and returned to the stove, where she stirred a large pot of rice before replacing the lid.

  “Can I get you some tea?” she asked while gesturing for him to sit on a bar stool next to the marble-topped island.

  “No, thank you,” replied Robert as he gazed deep into Martika’s eyes.

  The intensity seemed to take Martika by surprise, and she sat opposite him,
trying to return his gaze while straightening up the counter. Her fidgeting eventually stopped, and they continued staring at each other for several seconds without saying a word. Robert could see that Martika’s hands were shaking, and she self-consciously sat on her fingers as soon as she noticed he was watching.

  “Martika,” said Robert. “That’s an interesting name.”

  “My given name is Mary, but that means ‘bitter,’” she laughed nervously. “And I didn’t want to be bitter my entire life, so I changed it.”

  “When was that?”

  “Hmm, let me think. I guess it would be nearly thirty-seven years ago—wow, how time flies. It was on my eighteenth birthday. I needed to escape my old life, so I changed my name and left everything I knew behind.”

  “I see,” Robert said knowingly.

  “Do you know where you’re staying?” Martika asked after an uncomfortable silence.

  “Not yet. Don and I will probably sleep under the stars somewhere. It’s getting warm, and it will be nice to wake up in nature again.”

  “Is Don your puppy?”

  “I wouldn’t say my puppy. But I have made an agreement to take care of him for a while.” Robert laughed.

  “Oh.” Martika shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “I’m so sorry I can’t invite him in, but I’m just so allergic.”

  “It’s okay—I’m sure he’ll eventually understand.” Robert was trying to be funny, but as the words came out, he wasn’t sure that Don would understand.

  Robert again looked deep into Martika’s eyes and held her gaze for as long as she would allow it. He could sense her profound sadness, which in turn made him feel melancholy. She clearly wasn’t having an easy life this time around, and Robert felt sorry for her.

  “I need to change my clothes before dinner.” Martika nervously fidgeted with the vase in the center of the counter. “Do either of you have any dietary needs I should be aware of?”

  “No, I’ll eat anything—but Don doesn’t like fruit.”

  “I’m guessing that most dogs don’t,” she laughed. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  During dinner, Martika played the role of the gracious host, single-handedly preparing and serving a delicious meal of asparagus risotto for the seven visitors who were staying on her property for the retreat. She dutifully made conversation with all of her guests, but was secretly nervous about talking to Robert and avoided him all night.

  After dinner, the guests all went back to their rooms to get some rest for the first day of the retreat. However, Robert stayed seated, and when everyone else was gone, he silently joined Martika in the kitchen to help her clean up.

  Robert once again held her gaze with an intensity that Martika had never felt before. There was something profoundly familiar about the way he stared at her, a look that she had dreamed about several times throughout the years. She remembered searching many people’s faces for these very eyes, but as the years progressed, she had let the dream fade and had all but forgotten about it until this moment.

  “Do I know you?” Martika finally asked.

  “Yes,” Robert said matter-of-factly.

  “No, I mean do I really know you?”

  “Yes,” he repeated.

  “Because I feel like I really know you—from before.”

  “We’ve known each other for many lifetimes,” said Robert while clinking the silverware into its drawer.

  Martika was relieved when she heard this. It was strange to feel so intimate with someone she just met, but there was a sense of familiarity that she had felt as soon as she met Robert in the driveway.

  “And what was the nature of our relationship?” asked Martika nervously. She knew whatever he said would irrevocably change her life forever, but she couldn’t help herself. “Do you remember?”

  “Of course I remember,” Robert said plainly. “You were my mother in another life—long ago.”

  Tears welled up in her eyes and began to stream down her cheeks, dripping off her chin onto the bodice of her dress. Although she found it difficult to recognize this grown man as her child from a previous life, there was something deep within that reassured her that what he was saying was true.

  “I’m sorry,” Martika sniffled. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

  “I do. It’s because you abandoned me when I was seven years old.”

  This caught Martika by surprise. “What do you mean?”

  “You took your own life,” Robert announced solemnly.

  As soon as he said these words, a flood of terrifying images rushed into Martika’s consciousness. She saw a man who she imagined was Robert’s father and felt deeply how much she had loved him when they were married. The vision slowly faded into her husband on his deathbed, and she watched in sorrow as he took his last breath. When he was no longer breathing, she felt a rush of panic and was immediately overwhelmed with the responsibility of bringing up their son alone. She then witnessed several of her weakened attempts at raising Robert by herself, and began to feel consumed by her failure. She wanted to be a good mother, but the grief of losing her husband was crushing, and she didn’t have the strength to care for her only child.

  Hundreds of related visions flashed in succession within a matter of seconds, and Martika began to feel dizzy and nauseated from all of the information she was receiving. The images were so vivid that she could no longer discern what was real and what was imagined. But as the visions began to fade, an indelible memory was left that appeared to corroborate Robert’s assertion.

  “I’m sorry,” she cried. “Do you forgive me?”

  “No. I cannot forgive you.”

  “Why not?” she asked. His words felt like knives that were thrust deep into her heart.

  “Forgiveness is between your soul and the universe. I can offer my love, but forgiveness isn’t mine to give. That’s why you keep coming back and inflicting the same lessons on yourself and your family.”

  What Robert was saying was hard to listen to, but there was something about it that rang true.

  “Are you still having difficulty with your children?” Robert asked pointedly.

  “My daughter.” Martika sniffled. “She ran away from home three years ago, and I still don’t know where she is.” She put her head into her hands and sobbed, and her entire body began to shake. “I’m so worried about her—why is she so unhappy?”

  “Because she’s paying for your unresolved mistakes. When parents move on without working through their most significant life lessons, those lessons are passed on to their children and grandchildren until they are finally resolved. You’ve heard of family curses?”

  Martika nodded.

  “That’s what a family curse is. Children are burdened with the entanglements of their parents and grandparents, and they continue to pass them down to their offspring indefinitely until the source of the entanglement has been released.”

  “What can I do about it?”

  “I know your soul knows what to do, because you’re here once again. You keep being born into the same family in order to rectify your mistakes. But then you fall back into your old patterns of feeling victimized and leave without fulfilling your soul contract.”

  “But I didn’t leave my daughter; she left me.”

  “Only after you left her—emotionally.”

  Martika was stunned by how insightful Robert was. “When did you get so smart?”

  “Over the past few hundred years or so,” he laughed.

  “I bet your mother is very proud of you.”

  “I don’t have a mother. I haven’t had a mother since you.”

  Robert’s cryptic words saddened Martika. Although she thought that what he was saying wasn’t possible, there was an honesty in his voice that she couldn’t ignore. “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want one.”

  “How could you not want a mother?”

  “You don’t want me to say it.”

  She knew in her heart that he was right, but she coul
dn’t help herself. It felt important to confront what he was saying—even if it would hurt her. “Yes, I do. Why?” she finally asked sheepishly.

  “Because I don’t want her to leave me—like you did.”

  Martika felt her breath empty from her lungs, like she had just been punched in the stomach. Within moments, another succession of visions flashed through her head. She saw her child crying out for his mother on the day she took her own life. The baby’s crying echoed even louder in death than it had in life, and kept getting louder and louder. And just as she was about to let out a piercing scream to drown out the cries in her head, the visions faded to blackness … and within seconds she felt … nothing. She felt completely numb and alone, after which a profound emptiness instantly consumed her entire soul.

  Martika choked on her tears while attempting to regain her grip on reality. She found herself gasping for air for several seconds until she finally calmed down. “I guess I deserved that,” she whispered.

  After she began breathing normally, Robert calmly asked, “What was the life you had to leave when you changed your name?”

  Martika noticed the familiar way the corners of Robert’s mouth turned down when he smiled and how the flat tip of his small nose reminded her of someone from her past. And the more she looked deep into his water-blue eyes, the more familiar he became, until she couldn’t control her emotions anymore. Tears streamed from her eyes again, and she made no effort to wipe them as she began to speak. “My first boy,” she sobbed. “I was only sixteen years old when he was born … and I just couldn’t handle being a mother … I was just a child myself.”

  Robert instinctively covered her hand with his.

  “You look like him,” she said while wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. “I noticed when I first saw you earlier today, but I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “It’s not really you, is it? Are you my Donald?”

  “No, I’m your Robert. But I do think you’ll find your Donald very soon.”

  “I don’t know if I can handle seeing him again,” she cried. “Look at me; I’m a wreck. Before today, I didn’t even remember you—no offense.”