by Mandy Magro
An icy breeze whipped up, snapping him back to the moment. Indy shivered as she slid in closer to him, the short leash attached to a ring on the floor of the truck straining as she moved. Beside him, Dean’s comrade lifted his night-vision goggles and lit a cigarette, blowing perfect smoke rings into the air. ‘We’re going to have to be here for fucking years to win this shit fight. I mean, look at this would ya?’ He made a V with his outstretched arms, indicating their arc of responsibility. ‘A whole lotta shit can go wrong out here, and it often does. How the fuck are we ever going to win a war against a country that is constantly at war with itself?’
‘Hmm,’ was all Dean could say because Grant was right.
The deafening silence was suddenly broken by a thunderous roar as an Apache flew overhead, the aircraft swooping from side to side, its sensors searching for the heat of people who shouldn’t have been out. The drone of the Apache fading as quickly as it had arrived, Dean and Grant sat quietly once again, listening to far-off rockets zipping and whooshing, their high-arcing comet trails scrawling white lines across the sky. The battle never stopped. This was no video game, and there was no pause or rewind button; the reality of war went on twenty-four hours a day, day in, day out. It was rarely ceaseless, sometimes mindless, and forever heart-breaking.
Over the past week the weather had turned to shit, with icy rain and a fierce wind that stabbed through Dean’s jacket. The knife’s edge of a chill crept under his bulletproof vest and sunk into his bones, making him shiver to the core. The mountains, foreboding enough in the day, had a ghostly aura in the lime green wash of the image-intensifier lens he was wearing. Above, the stars burned like tiny comets, adding to the surreal aspect of the view. Indy sat beside him, her coat soaked with rain, head erect, large triangular ears at attention and focussed on sounds, her eyes piercing into the darkness for any sign of intrusion. Not far off from their position grape vines grew in sprawling tangled rows between muddy ditches obscured by weeds, a notoriously good place for the Taliban to hide explosives. And when an explosion was detonated, the narrowness of the trench intensified the explosion. These were the killing fields of the new generation of soliders.
Pulling off his night-vision goggles, Dean groaned as he tried to stretch his weary body back to life, then reached out to pull Indy into his warmth and give her a cuddle as he rested his head on top of hers. She was shivering just as much as he was. What he would give to be sitting on Majestic Beach right now with Summer in his arms, but instead here he was, shivering to death in the mountains of Afghanistan. After losing his mother and Tommy within ten months of each other, he’d never felt so low in all his life. The only thing keeping him going was the knowledge he’d be returning to Summer in just under two months. She was his saving grace, his angel sent down from heaven. He was a very lucky man to have her. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out her photo, shielding it from the rain with his hat as he ran his thumb over it, imagining he was running his thumb over her sweet skin. Unable to see her pretty face in the darkness, he placed the photo against his icy lips, hoping she could somehow feel his kiss right now, and fully believing that, because of the unique bond they shared, she would.
Still feeling peckish, Dean pulled a packet of beef jerky from his pack, offering some to Grant and then handing a piece to Indy before helping himself. Chewing absentmindedly, his thoughts drifted to Tommy and the many hours he had spent with his best mate. They’d shared every working hour and now he was gone, just like that, just like his mum. Why did God have to be so bloody cruel? But then again, who was he to question a God who had blessed him with a woman like Summer to love, and to be loved by?
Trying hard to keep his train of thought positive, a grin tugged Dean’s lips as he remembered the night Tommy had gotten on the radio and pretended to be ordering a pepperoni pizza, with extra cheese and garlic. They were out on a five-day mission, and tired of eating the same old crap, and Tommy had thought it about time they all had a laugh. Sergeant Harrison hadn’t been very impressed with Tommy’s misuse of the radio, but the entire regiment had laughed about it for weeks. And if you could laugh at war, you were winning.
‘Miss you, mate,’ Dean whispered, looking up into the black-velvet sky, wishing that somehow Tommy could respond, just as shooting star disappeared into the distance. Dean smiled – it was a sign, it had to be. His mate had heard him and was letting him know he was here. He hoped Tommy and his mother, Patty Lockwood, were together in heaven. He just had to believe they were, as it gave him a small amount of peace. Stretching wearily, he yawned, his eyelids heavy. What he wouldn’t give right now to crawl into his bed, with Summer snuggled up beside him, and drift into a deep, uninterrupted sleep. He sighed forcefully. Only fifty-eight more sleeps, and counting.
It was the perfect summer’s day to have the top down on her Mini as Summer drove to Dorothy’s: warm, tranquil, inviting. Blue sky stretched out as far as the eye could see, and the occasional white cloud floated listlessly in the gentle morning breeze. Gazing out over the ocean, Summer observed a lone fisherman strolling along the otherwise deserted sandy shore, a fishing rod in one hand and a bucket in the other. Above him a flock of seagulls circled, eyeing off whatever he had in his bucket, their squawking loud and boisterous. She licked her lips, the saltiness from the sea breeze lingering faintly upon them, and smiled, her life beginning to feel like it was falling back into place. She and her mum had been spending lots of fun time together; she loved living with Fiona and Phillip; she had finally found it within herself to forgive Marcus for his stupid mistake – although she would never forget it; and she was head over heels in love with the most beautiful man on earth, Dean Lockwood. If only her father could get over his pride and say sorry to her, then everything would be close to perfect. She hadn’t spoken a word to him since confronting him about the cheque, only visiting her mum when he wasn’t home, which was quite often, as usual.
Today was her first day off in a week from the café, and she was looking forward to the freedom that came with having time to herself. She’d been feeling really exhausted lately, in bed by eight o’clock every night. Not that she was complaining; she loved working with Phillip and his small team. It was always fun, and it almost didn’t feel like work to her, as she enjoyed cooking and working with the organic ingredients Phillip meticulously sourced locally. She’d had the opportunity to meet so many like-minded people by working at the café and the majority of the clientele were kindred spirits, into the New Age way of living. It was certainly a benefit to be surrounded by people who supported her ambition to open a yoga and meditation studio; it gave her even more oomph to follow through on her dream. In two months’ time – on her twenty-fourth birthday – she would get her inheritance and she planned to put the money to good use straight away. The old yoga studio backed onto Phillip’s café, and she’d put the idea to Phillip that they somehow combine both businesses – to her surprise, he’d jumped at the opportunity.
Turning down a seaside lane lined with towering paperbarks and multicoloured frangipani trees, Summer stopped out the front of Dorothy’s, making sure to park in the shade of a giant ghost gum. Her belly fluttered. She couldn’t wait to see what Dorothy saw in store for her and Dean, and hoped Dorothy could somehow explain the strong connection she’d felt the second she had laid eyes on him. Grabbing her basket of yummy goodies from the front seat – a homemade lemon tart, some cranberry and almond biscuits from Phillip’s shop and a bottle of organic apple juice – Summer stepped from the Mini, admiring the many wind chimes hanging on the front verandah of the little cottage. Dorothy had collected them from around the world and the melody of the wood and metal chiming in the wind was enchanting. Rose bushes surrounded the home, the heavenly scent of the flowers wafting in the sultry air, and at the side of the cottage near a flourishing vegie garden a massive rainwater tank sat, which supplied Dorothy with all the water she needed.
Stepping through the rusty wrought-iron gate, Summer made sure it was fi
rmly shut behind her, conscious of Dorothy’s three pet ducks, Funky, Groovy and Happy, and numerous chickens she’d saved from the nearby battery farm that were allowed free rein around the cottage. Following the pretty flower-lined pebble path to Dorothy’s front door, she eyed off a double hammock that was strung on the verandah, imagining how blissful it would be to hang out in it all day long while reading a good book.
Ascending the five front steps, she was just about to knock when the door swung open and she was pulled into a comfy hug before she got to say hello. The scent of sandalwood lingering on Dorothy’s brightly coloured knee-length kaftan dress was so comfortingly familiar. The elderly woman pulled back, holding Summer at arms’ length, her hazel eyes twinkling with what Summer could only describe as a fairy-like magic.
‘Oh, my little goddess, it’s so good to see you! It feels like it’s been forever.’ Dorothy stepped back, her long, white-grey plait swinging halfway down her back. ‘Come into my lair,’ she said with a sweep of her arm, the many smile lines around her eyes crinkling as she chuckled.
Summer obliged, leaning over to give Dorothy a quick peck on the cheek as she stepped through the doorway, the musk incense and relaxation music so very welcoming. ‘It’s great to see you too, Dorothy. I think it’s been almost six months since we caught up. Too long between cups of chai, I reckon.’ She smiled as she took in Dorothy’s petite five-foot frame. Her long-time friend looked so full of life considering her seventy-five years. ‘And you’re looking wonderful, I might add, not a day older than twenty-one.’
Dorothy laughed and gave her a loving slap on the arm. ‘You’ve always been a charmer, Summer.’
Summer held up the cane basket. ‘I come bearing yummy gifts, ones that will put some meat on our rumps … and I’ve made sure it’s all organic too.’
‘Sounds divine.’ Dorothy motioned towards the kitchen. ‘Let’s go make ourselves that cup of chai then, shall we?’
Following Dorothy through the uncluttered two-bedroom cottage, joined by her stunning eleven-year-old Russian Blue cat, Mystic, Summer admired all the curious objects Dorothy had gathered from around the world. Statues of Buddha were abundant and a large open-cut cathedral amethyst stood where a television would normally sit. Dorothy had always preferred to read than to watch the woes of the world on an idiot box – a term Dorothy used often when referring to televisions, and two bookcases were filled to the brim with books on everything from shamanism to the mysteries of the dark moon. Spiritual magazines were spread out on the coffee table. It was a very warm and welcoming home, and one Summer had spent many happy times in.
Arriving in the sun-drenched kitchen, Dorothy busied herself with making chai, the intoxicating aromas of cinnamon, cardamom, cloves, nutmeg, star anise and vanilla filling the room and making Summer’s mouth water. She began unpacking the basket in preparation for their morning tea. Mystic did her usual attention-grabbing dance by rubbing herself against Summer’s leg, her purring making her sound like a generator. Unable to resist, Summer stopped what she was doing and picked the cat up from the floor, the tranquil moggy responding to her stroking by meowing as if in conversation. Summer spoke gently back to her, fondly reminding her how much of a spoilt cat she was.
Taking a seat at the dining room table with their cups of warm vanilla chai and a piece of lemon tart each, Summer and Dorothy caught up on all the things they had missed since seeing each other last, including Dorothy’s recent trip to Nepal to visit the monks. She’d spent two months up in the mountains with them, chanting and meditating, and even going as far as having a week of no speaking – a practice the monks followed regularly to allow a person to really go within themselves. Summer always found Dorothy’s stories fascinating and hoped that she could look back at Dorothy’s age, knowing she had led an intriguing life. Once again it made her think of her guru back in India. She had to make the trip back over to see him one day. It would break her heart if he passed away before she got to meet with him again.
Savouring her last mouthful of food, Dorothy closed her eyes and moaned. ‘That was the most delicious tart I have ever tasted. I’m almost tempted to have another piece but the sugar hit will wreak havoc on me.’
‘Thanks, Dorothy, I made it myself from the bush lemons off the tree at home,’ Summer said proudly as she stood to gather the plates and cups. ‘Would you like a glass of the organic apple juice I brought along?’
‘I’d love one, thanks. Just pop the dishes in the sink, sweetheart, and then we might get started, hey?’ Dorothy said, grabbing a pack of tarot cards that were wrapped in a red silk scarf. Standing, she spread a beautifully patterned sarong over the table, then lit a sage smudge stick, blessing the room and asking for it to be filled with guiding light. Easing herself back into her chair, she unwrapped the cards from the silk while Mystic took up her normal position in Dorothy’s lap.
After rinsing the plates, Summer sat back down opposite Dorothy, taking the cards from her to shuffle while thinking of all the things she’d like answers to. Once finished, she held them against her heart for a few seconds and passed them back, watching as Dorothy systematically laid them out on the table. Frowning in concentration, Dorothy oohed and ahhed while tapping the cards, her reading glasses propped on the end of her nose. Summer sat biting her bottom lip, wondering what Dorothy was seeing. She always got a little nervous before a reading, part of her worried that Dorothy wasn’t going to tell her what she wanted to hear.
After a minute had passed, Dorothy lifted her eyes to meet Summer’s.
‘You have big things coming your way, child.’ She raised her arms and spread them wide. ‘Big things.’ She tapped the first card. ‘This one shows me that you’re on the right path, although it’s going to be a bit of a bumpy one, I’m afraid.’ She tapped the last card. ‘But don’t lose faith along the way, because although things may not appear to be going how you want them to, or how you envisioned them to be, everything works out just the way it’s meant to in the end.’ She held up a finger, as if halting herself. ‘The guides are giving me a message – keep your eyes firmly planted on the road ahead.’ She tipped her head to the side, deep in thought, and then shrugged. ‘I’m not sure exactly what it means, but in time I’m sure you will. And it must be important, because they’re begging for me to make you very mindful of their message.’
‘Okay, I’ll try not to lose faith – and I’ll keep my eyes on the road ahead.’ Summer’s voice was a whisper; her palms sweaty with the thought that things weren’t going to be smooth sailing for her. Hadn’t she had enough drama of late – enough to last a bloody lifetime?
Dorothy gave her a compassionate smile, and then continued on, explaining things along the way while Summer sat quietly, taking it all in.
‘I see a dark man around you, not necessarily in physical appearance, but definitely in spirit. Many do not see this sinister side of him; he’s very good at fooling people into believing he is a saint, when really he is a sinner. And the thing is, he truly believes he’s doing nothing wrong, and is lying even to himself. In a way I feel sorry for him, because he is a very unhappy man, but he needs to be honest with himself, and those around him, to free himself from his evil ways.’ Her face scrunched in displeasure. ‘You have unfinished business with this person. He must be exposed for the man he is. He can’t continue through this life, leaving destruction in his wake.’
Summer wriggled in her seat, feeling somewhat exposed.
Sliding her hands beneath the cards, Dorothy smiled broadly, slightly easing the tight knot in Summer’s stomach. ‘Now, moving onto the house of love.’ Dorothy wriggled her eyebrows. ‘I’m getting the feeling this man you’ve fallen for is a Gemini, yes?’
Summer nodded, wide eyed. ‘He sure is.’
‘He’s a very passionate man, and a good man, with a genuine heart, but at the moment that heart is carrying a lot of sadness. Has he lost a loved one lately?’
Summer swallowed hard, always amazed by Dorothy’s accuracy. ‘He�
�s lost two loved ones in the past year: his mum and his best friend.’
Dorothy pursed her lips. ‘Hmm, I see.’ She drummed her fingertips lightly on her forehead, remaining quiet for a few moments. ‘There is still some heartache to come for him, I’m afraid, but he’s a strong man, so he will handle it. He may be left with scars because of it, but for some reason I can’t see clearly here if they are physical or emotional scars. Maybe it’s both?’
She closed her eyes, this time quiet for almost a minute as she exhaled and inhaled rhythmically. ‘For some reason the guides aren’t letting me see too much into his future, and that might simply be because they want this reading to be based on your life path, not his. What I can tell you, though, is that you and he have been together in past lives.’ A smile tugged at her lips as she opened her eyes. ‘Many past lives, and in the last life I can see that he died of a broken heart because you passed away before him.’ Dorothy reached out and placed her hand over Summer’s. ‘The bond you share with this man is a rare one, but a beautiful one. You have been brought together in this life time once again, to learn the things you haven’t learnt from each other in previous lives.’
Dorothy smiled tenderly and Summer clutched her heart, happy tears stinging her eyes. She had always felt there was a deep connection, but not one as potent as this. ‘I knew from the minute I laid eyes on him that he was the one for me – within moments of being near him, I felt like I’d known him for a life time. And from what he’s told me, and with what I’ve felt from him, he feels exactly the same. This explains so much, Dorothy, thank you.’
‘I’m glad I could help.’ Dorothy squeezed Summer’s hand. ‘Just promise me to be very careful along the way, there are people who want to see you fail with him. Stand strong in your beliefs, and don’t let them change your destiny, because as you know, Summer, everyone’s destiny can be altered with one simple right or wrong turn.’