by Lilah Boone
They were becoming comfortable with each other very quickly. She had easily accepted that he simply knew her and she knew him. As odd as it was, regardless of how long or how little they had been aware of each other’s existence, they were steadily beginning to act like old friends who had only perhaps been apart for a while.
Kyle got up to get them each another diet coke from the fridge. “I think whatever it is that’s coming is going to get here at the stroke of midnight on the twenty first.” Abby couldn’t hide her shock. Of course she believed him but she had thought they would have more time to prepare and more time to figure out the answers to all of their questions.
“You’re kidding?” She took the can from him and opened it. “That’s extremely specific. Are you sure it’s that exact time?”
“Yeah, pretty sure. That’s what my gut is telling me plus it seems to be the date all the ancient prophecies point to. It’s foretold by the Mayans, the Egyptians, the Cybil of Rome, Native Americans, the Bible, just to name a few.” He took his seat again and turned to her with intense eyes. “It pops up everywhere when you look into the end of the world. I don’t think we’ll be above ground after that. Actually, I’m planning on having Jim and Alex pack up the dogs and get moved into that thing by Thursday afternoon. I don’t want to take any chances.”
“Okay. Well that shouldn’t be too hard to explain I guess. They’re already looking at both of us cross eyed since I mentioned the glowing thing.”
Kyle picked up on her sarcasm and smiled. “We’ll figure something out. If we have to we’ll make up a story about falling asteroids or tell them some plot from a disaster movie. You should probably be the one to break the news though because you already have a good track record with that sort of thing. They’ll believe you. Plus, you’re prettier. I’ll just look like a raving mad man screaming that the sky is falling.”
She knew he was sort of teasing her and she returned his smile. “Sure, leave me with all the dirty work. Some friend you are.”
“What? That’s not a good deal?” His eyes widened in feigned disbelief. “I get to see the bad things and you get to break the news to your uncle and your clingy, hair gel obsessed ex boyfriend.” He laughed at the reference to Alex. “You get to look crazy and I get to stay the sensible voice of reason. Fair, right?”
She laughed open mouthed and nearly touched his arm, sitting so close to her own on the top of the table that she could feel the heat coming off of his skin. She caught herself, remembering their early conversation and not wanting to push their newly found friendship to a place perhaps neither of them was ready for.
Kyle noticed her gesture and let his laughter ebb. Looking into her eyes he slowly inched his hand across the small section of table between them. Just as Abby thought she was going to feel the warmth of his hand he drew away slowly, exhaling a deep breath that hit the skin of her cheek.
The awkwardness lasted a mere second before Abby was speaking again. “So tell me about the things you write when you’re not writing about disaster.”
Kyle’s face lightened and he took a second to sip on his soda. “Poetry mostly. Freeform, stream of consciousness type stuff that I usually go back and clean up later.”
“That sounds nice. I’d like to read it sometime.”
“I wouldn’t categorize it as nice. Most of it lately is pretty dark, considering the circumstances of my life these days.” He smiled but it didn’t register in his eyes.
He brought his hand up to his chin, nonchalantly rubbed a thumb along his bottom lip in thought. Abby felt her pulse suddenly go to eleven and had to consciously keep her mouth from hanging open.
They met eyes again and Kyle leaned forward a little in his chair. “What about you?” he asked. “What do you usually paint when it’s not the end of the world?”
Abby needed a minute to collect herself before responding. “Oh. I prefer figurative stuff. Mostly portraits, but I have an aversion to realism so it’s not what people typically think of as portraiture. Well not really.”
“I’d like to see it… your personal work. I have a feeling it’s something I would like to hang on my walls.”
Abby smiled. “Well the next time you’re in New York you could come by the ga…” She stopped short. Most of her paintings were now sitting under the sea. There was no gallery to visit, no walls that held her canvases. “I mean I can show you my portfolio on my computer some day.”
Kyle’s face changed, his expression softening. His hand inched closer to hers again. Abby watched with anticipation as his fingers wrapped tightly around hers. She stopping breathing for an instant as his hand slipped into her smaller one. She closed her eyes, felt the calluses on his palms, the product of years of hard labor on the farm, and let out her breath in short gasps. All at once an overwhelming feeling swept through her like she was being drowned in a pool of raw, potent emotion.
Neither of them was prepared for the jolt of power that flew through them with that one little touch. It was like putting the last cable on a car battery to complete the circuit and jump it back to life.
Visions immediately started flowing between them until Abby found that she was standing back in that place of her dreams and staring up at the grassy hill. There she saw Kyle, dressed in the priest’s clothes, his bare chest exposed under necklaces as he held aloft his sacred staff.
Their eyes met and Abby realized now that it had been Kyle’s eyes she had been staring into every night since the dreams began. She all at once knew who he was and more importantly who she was. This was not some random vision. What she had been experiencing as a dream was in actuality a memory of another time, another place, another life.
The man she saw on the hill was more than just Kyle Windstone, her uncle’s closest friend and business partner. He was more than the attractive Kansas farmer she had just met. The man she saw was intensely powerful and the chosen holy man of her people. Their people. He was her priest, her friend, and her lover. He was everything to her and when she looked at him she saw her past, her present, and her future all hidden within his flickering green eyes.
The priest opened his mouth and his voice rang out over the land:
When blood drops upon the Earth, the Destroyer will appear, and mountains will open up and belch forth fire and ashes. Trees will be destroyed and all living things engulfed. Land will be swallowed up by the waters, and seas will boil.
The Heavens will burn brightly and redly; there will be a copper hue over the face of the land, ‘followed by a day of darkness. A new moon will appear and break up and fall.
The people will scatter in madness. They will hear the trumpet and battle cry of the Destroyer and will seek refuge within dens in the Earth. Terror will eat away their hearts, and their courage will flow from them like water from a broken pitcher. They will be eaten in the flames of wrath and consumed by the breath of the Destroyer.
In those days wisdom will be revealed; the few will be gathered for the stand; it is the hour of trial. The dauntless ones will survive; the stouthearted will not go down to destruction.
Suddenly she felt herself floating, scenes passing her on all sides. She moved back through time in a flash. She saw Kyle. No, that wasn’t his name, she thought. And the sound suddenly surfaced on her tongue. “Callum.”
She watched as if an outsider, witnessing the moments of contentment in their small home, hearing the sound of their children laughing. It was all so far away, faded as though she were looking through a pane of foggy glass.
He called her name, reached out to her in the night. “Aislynn.” She knew his face, his voice, his touch. She had always known him.
When they returned to the present moment they were standing. Their hands were still joined and suddenly so were their lips. It wasn’t a sweet, tender peck of a kiss. No, there was nothing polite or controlled about this kiss. It was hungry, piercing, and laced with desperation.
Kyle held Abby’s face with one hand and trailed up her curves with the other, p
lastering her body to his like a second skin. When she let out a moan he quickly drew away and dropped to his knees. Pain contorted his features while he cradled his head in his hands. He was hurting but Abby had no idea why. There was no blood, no mark on him at all.
“Kyle! Oh god, are you okay?” Abby reached out to steady him, to comfort him, but he pulled away and put his hand up to stop her.
He looked up with watery eyes. “Please. Not yet. Please don’t touch me again. Just give me a minute.” His voice was strained, high in pitch as the pain pulsed in his words.
Abby sat back, resisting the urge to wrap him in her arms and care for him until the pain subsided. Her heart wrenched as she watched him suffer and her vision seemed to jump back in forth, flashing images of the past and the present in the same moment. As she looked down at him he was the priest in her vision one instant and Kyle Windstone the next until there was suddenly no separation between the two. She clenched her eyes closed, opened them again. When her sight fell again on the man before her she saw someone she already knew, someone she loved. Kyle and the man she remembered as Callum were one in the same.
At least a full five minutes passed before Kyle lifted his head and opened his eyes to meet Abby’s. She couldn’t read his expression through the remnants of pain.
“I’m sorry.” He stood up, steadied himself on the edge of the table. “I’m okay now. That’s how it happens to me sometimes. When the big visions come they leave a blinding pain in their wake.”
“Is it gone now? Is there anything I can do to help you?” She fought the urge to reach out to him again. “I’m sorry Kyle. If I had known…”
“It’s okay. Neither of us knew that was going to happen.”
“Why didn’t I get pain with the vision?” He sat down, took a long sip of his soda, and leaned back in the chair with his eyes closed. After a few deep breaths he opened his eyes and looked at her without turning his head.
“I don’t know. Look, I need some time to take everything in. To get some sleep, figure things out. I think it would be a good idea if we just turned in for the night.” He was rigid, his face expressionless.
Abby tried to hide the feelings of rejection that stabbed into her gut like ten thousand pointy ninja stars. So many thoughts rushed through her mind at the same time, competing with each other for dominance.
Had she expected him to take her in his arms and tell her how long he’d waited for her? Regardless of their past life connection, they were still bound to the present.
“Okay. It’s probably better that way.” It took all her energy to speak evenly and fight to keep the hurt from showing on her face.
When Kyle didn’t respond she moved towards the stairs. “I guess I’ll find the guestroom on my own then.”
Again he said nothing as she gathered both of her bags from the foyer and started up the stairs. On the second step she stopped to peer back into the kitchen.
“If you need help or anything, I don’t mind.” She said it just barely loud enough for him to hear. “I mean, if your head hurts or something.”
“Thanks. I’ll be fine.” He stayed in his seat, his back turned to her. “Get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Abby continued up the stairs and found the spare room with the first door she opened. She tossed her bags on the floor, stripped off her jeans, and threw herself onto the floral bedspread with a mix of exhaustion and confusion. How was it that she felt like she missed him? That didn’t make any sense. Her entire soul fairly ached for him and he was just downstairs. But he wasn’t hers. Not in this life.
Memories invaded her, not the least of which was the memory of that kiss, and she felt the first of a well spring of hot tears come to her eyes. She wasn’t sure if she was crying over Kyle Windstone or the man he used to be.
She convinced herself that the feelings she had for Kyle weren’t hers. They belonged to someone else, a person from some other time, and she was only able to remember the intensity of them now because of the unexpected vision. Regardless, the pain she felt was real and she had never felt anything like it in her life.
Earlier she mentioned to Kyle that she’d never been in love before. She knew that was true now with complete certainty. Memories of real, amazing, and apparently undying love were now a part of her.
Abby didn’t bother getting under the covers. Instead she lay there, curling her body into a ball and allowing the few silent tears to fall.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Whitestone Village, Midsummer, 1577 BCE
Aislynn was anxious, expectant, and far too sick of waiting. She had waited long enough for this day to come. Finally, after more than three years, he was coming home. The thought sent a flutter through her limbs, easing the anxiety that had made her slightly jumpy for most of the last month. As summer approached and the daylight grew, so too did the weight of Aislynn’s anticipation. She hated waiting.
She was terrified in many ways. Would he still be the same boy who had tossed stones into the pond and taught her to watch the ripples, to listen to the sound the water made as it swallowed the stone? Would he be the same boy who had listened to trees, and communed with spirits only he could see? Would he A still hold that mystery in his eyes and whisper nature’s riddles to her under the moon?
Had the priests been able to change him so that she would no longer recognize his smile, the melody of his laughter? Had he forgotten the joy they had brought each other? Would he still want her? No, it didn’t matter, she thought. She would make him want her again if she must. He was hers, always had been. She would never let him go without a fight.
It was Midsummer, the time when day and night were perfectly balanced and the sun and moon were equals in the sky. The priests were coming in from the cove to preside over the rites, to light the fires the way it had been done for generations.
Midsummer was a time to celebrate and a time to beckon the crops for a good harvest in the fall. It was a time of feasting and fertility. As such, it was a time when men and women came together in the night, to learn the secrets of each other’s touch and promise themselves for the next year.
It was the women who made the choice, who took the men into the fields to lie under the stars. Of course the decision must be a mutual one. No man could be chosen by a woman he didn’t want. Many a Midsummer had resulted in tears of rejection and the sorrow of unrequited love. Aislynn prayed she would not be added to those ranks.
The other maidens who would be attending the rites for the first time had been discussing their choices for weeks. Aislynn’s friend, Deirna, was currently pondering the boys of the village, appraising each of them like livestock at the market.
“Lairim is of age this year as well,” Deirna said. Her blue eyes glazed over slightly, reflecting the last moments of daylight from above. “And he has lovely arms. I think I could stand them around me for the next year.” She laughed, tucked a stray hair behind her ear.
“Fine choice,” Aislynn said, smiling politely. She glanced at Lairim for a moment. He was strong, stood proud on his young legs. But he was nothing compared to the man she was waiting for.
“Yes, and it’s not as though we’re saying forever. By next Midsummer I could choose another to take into my mother’s home. Perhaps his brother, Ryell. He’ll come of age next spring. But I think Lairim might make a good partner for now. Plus, he could give my mother the grandchild she wants.”
Aislynn smiled. She wasn’t thinking about babies and her mother had passed to the next world two summers before. Being an only child, and a daughter at that, the family home now belonged to her.
Aislynn had been the only daughter of an only daughter. There were no uncles, no father to help tend to her modest home. Her father had been a priest who had chosen to return to the cove after the Summer Rites and Aislynn’s mother had taken other lovers over the years.
Such was the way things were done. But not for Aislynn. If her priest would not stay with her she would take no other lover. She would l
ive alone in her thatched roof house waiting eagerly for each Midsummer to come around. Even if she began to starve or if the walls came crumbling down around her, she would touch no other man. But she prayed he wouldn’t return to the cove. He was a man now and he had a choice. The priests could not decide for him anymore, could not sweep him away from her like they had before.
Aislynn and her priest had been born on the same day and had grown up together in the village. At the age of five he had brought her piles of daisies and sat with her by the pond to string them together the way their mothers had taught them. He told stories, even then, speaking of the land, the cycles of the moon, and the positions of the stars. Always he had known about the mysteries, as if he was born with the wisdom of the ages behind his young eyes.
At the age of nine he was spending more time with the other boys, learning to fight and hunt with his brothers. Aislynn had missed him, but still every so often a daisy would be waiting for her, tucked within the crack around her door, or sitting on the ledge outside her window. And when the other boys weren’t looking, he would send her a smile. It was a smile he reserved only for her.
By the time adolescence was upon them their relationship changed again. His stolen glances became more frequent, more purposeful. They were miles away from the village, watching the sea crash upon the jagged rocks, when he kissed her for the first time. It was an innocent kiss, full of hope and wonder.
Tentatively, and with great innocence, their lips had touched, introducing them both to feelings they had never known before. Even in that small instant there had been something between them, something untouchable and unexplainable. That was the moment Aislynn knew he would be her husband, and not just for a year but for eternity.
Days before their fifteenth birthday he was taken from her. The priests had come from the cove to celebrate the first harvest and seen something in the boy. Claiming that his purpose was a grand one, they ushered him off to their sanctuary to study the ancient ways of the land and the gods that lived within it. Three years had passed and Aislynn had missed him every day. He had been her best friend. Even when he was busy being a boy, he had never completely left her.