Love Patterns

by Michael B. Malone

  Kirsty woke from another nightmare about Alan. She hardly dared to touch the connection to him now. The feeling of dread that came over her almost caused her to faint. At breakfast she told Claire who admitted having nightmares herself.

  “About Alan?” Kirsty asked, surprised. Claire nodded. Kirsty was frightened.

  “There must be something wrong!” she wailed. Claire remained silent.

  “We have to do something,” Kirsty insisted. Claire looked back hopelessly.

  “What can we do?” She had a sudden thought. “We could ask his father.”

  “That’s an idea,” Kirsty agreed. She phoned from the hall. David was in and she spent some time trying to explain. He promised to drive up that afternoon. Claire left for work.

  Kirsty rose wearily to answer the doorbell. David looked her up and down then gave her a hug, sat beside her on the settee and stroked her hand soothingly while she told him again of her fear that there was something wrong with Alan.

  David pondered. He’d really come so promptly because he thought there might be something wrong with Kirsty. But her eyes were clear. There was not the slightest sign of any emotional disturbance and he knew what to look for. He wouldn’t have been surprised if there was after what she’d been through, was still going through. He decided that he believed her. After all, he’d already had irrefutable evidence of the bond between Kirsty and Alan. He shook his head, He didn’t know what to advise. She started to say something then faltered.

  He encouraged. “Go on.”

  Kirsty started again. “I have the feeling I did something to Alan, but I don’t know what.” He listened to her explanation about the events in the field in Glen Clova and how she couldn’t forget Alan’s eyes. “I see them in my nightmares.” David felt out of his depth. He remembered his stint in Kenya, when he’d been a young doctor. He’d seen some strange things. He’d seen people die for no apparent reason because they believed a witch doctor had put a curse on them. There were other things he couldn’t account for. He jumped up.

  “Of course! Bill Munro! Can I use your phone Kirsty?” After a few minutes he came back. “We’re going to visit a friend of mine. Bill Munro is the wisest person I know. I knew him in Kenya when …” he stopped, “he’s …”, he searched for a word, “…

  he sees things!” He helped her on with her coat and took her out to the car and they set off.

  Kirsty asked. “Is that the Mr. Munro Claire knows whose wife has just died?”

  David was surprised. “Yes, do you know him?”

  Kirsty looked pensive. “I used to visit the nursing home. I remember he had very strange eyes, he made me feel …” she finished, “… strange.”

  David manoeuvred the car into a driveway at the side of a neat bungalow. He helped Kirsty out and rang the doorbell. The stooped figure of Mr. Munro appeared, smiling a welcome.

  David clasped his hand. “I think you know Kirsty.”

  He smiled and looked around her. “I do,” he said. Kirsty felt his smile surround her. It was like sunshine.

  He led them to a room which was obviously a study. Two walls were filled with shelves of books, and piles of typewritten sheets covered a desk. He indicated a settee.

  Bill smiled at her. “Now what seems to be the trouble?”

  She told him about the nightmares and the connection to Alan and how she thought that she’d done something to him. She felt the full force of his gaze. He seemed to look through her and around her, then it was as if his eyes followed a trail into the distance. He nodded and glanced at David.

  “Do you want to help yourself to a drink in the lounge Dave?” The two men looked at each other, then David left. Bill turned his strange eyes on her. She felt a prickling sensation.

  “I can’t help Alan,” he said. Kirsty’s face fell. He continued, “But …” Hope flickered in her again. “You can!”

  Her face lit up. “I’ll do anything.”

  “Anything?”

  “Yes.” She meant it with all her heart. He gazed steadily into her eyes

  “Suppose it means losing him?”

  Kirsty felt she was in the middle of one of those romances where the heroine had to battle with herself to give her lover up to save him. The usual nonsense about choosing a lifetime of loneliness and suffering. She looked inside herself and felt Alan’s need. There was no battle. If that was what was needed she would do it. She answered, looking back into Bill’s eyes.

  “Yes, anything!”

  He stared into the distance. “Before you can undo what you’ve done, you must know and admit it to yourself.” He sighed. “Even if you didn’t know you were doing it.”

  She nodded, waiting. “Tell me what you did.”

  She felt his eyes boring into her. Some part of her recognised what he was referring to, but if he knew already, why did he want her to tell him? As if aware of her thoughts he repeated.

  “Tell me.”

  She recounted their actions in the field. She told him of her heightened awareness. She described their lovemaking, and the feeling that their patterns were merging, how she’d pulled away and then joined their patterns together. She looked at him hopefully.

  He repeated. “Tell me what you did?”

  She tried to remember. Her thoughts slid away in panic. “I don’t know!”

  Bill’s voice was stern. “You do know, you won’t admit it to yourself, look inside, find the connection to Alan. You must tell yourself.”

  Some part of her deep inside, a part that didn’t want to be discovered shouted through her lips.

  “What do you know about love? Why should I?” She saw his eyes look inward.

  She felt the drumbeat of Africa in her veins and the hot sun behind her eyes. She saw a little black girl with a huge grin and then a grass covered grave. A feeling of infinite sadness engulfed her.

  “Because you love him,” he whispered.

  Kirsty felt desolate. She sobbed. “I’m sorry?” She tried to find the place inside herself but recoiled at Alan’s fear, his despair. Tears ran down her cheeks. She looked at Bill. “I can’t.” She felt his sympathy.

  “You must, think of Alan.” He put his hand on her head and she felt suddenly stronger. She tried to bring back all her memories of Alan and felt she was trudging through a long black tunnel populated by dreadful slimy, unspeakable creatures trying to hold her back, but the sheer force of her love pushed her on. She felt Alan’s emotions, he was near madness. Suddenly she knew what she’d done. She gave a mental shriek of horror and came back to herself. She saw what she had done,

  Bill said more insistently. “What did you do?”

  Kirsty’s shame wouldn’t allow her to look at him. She shook her head. He held her chin and made her meet his eyes. She couldn’t tear her gaze away.

  He commanded. “Tell me!”

  Two parts inside her seemed to struggle, then she whispered. “I enslaved him!” She burst into wracking sobs.

  “What are you going to do about it?” he asked.

  She sobbed. “He will hate me.”

  Bill looked sad. “What are you going to do?”

  Kirsty closed her eyes to hold the tears in. She would give up everything for Alan, her life, her dreams, her love. But to have him hate her?

  She made her decision. “I must free him.”

  “Then do it” he ordered quietly.

  She plunged again into the maelstrom of madness and despair. Examining the connection. She could see what she had done but not how to undo it. She felt Bill’s hand on her head. She returned.

  “I couldn’t do it,” Kirsty sobbed. “I don’t know how.” He didn’t seem worried. She felt hopeful.

  He smiled. “I’ll make a cup of tea then we’ll try again.”

  A little later she heard him use the phone. Then she heard David drive off. Bill came back with two mugs of tea and placed one at her side.

  She asked. “What is happening?”

  “I’ve asked someone to help you.” />
  “Who?”

  He smiled. “Wait and see.”

  She felt calmer, and took a sip of her tea.

  “What did I do?” she asked.

  Bill sighed. “The human mind has many layers. Most people go through their lives just using the upper ones. But the lower layers make their presence known. They have great power. The deepest layers are even outside time,” he paused. “There is a psychic element in sex, that can help you reach those deep layers.” He paused again to sip his tea. “Mystics spend years trying to reach these layers, but a man and a woman, if they feel deeply about each other, and know how, can reach them easily. People sense this, they feel vulnerable. That’s why men and women hide from each other. That’s why there has been so much guilt and fear about sex. Females are usually more in touch with the deeper layers than men. Children sense this. You can see it for yourself. Young boys are afraid of young girls, despite being stronger, and the world’s religions are wary of young women.”

  Kirsty was impatient. “But what happened to Alan?”

  Bill sighed again. “On some deep level he knew what had been done to him and protected himself by locking you away inside himself. He feels he is being torn apart because he loves you and wants to come back to you, but a deep part of him wants to stay away.”

  Kirsty squeezed her eyes shut to keep the tears in. “How I’ve made him suffer.”

  Bill surprised her by smiling. “In all the great love stories the man has to go through a period of suffering. Even in novels you will find this. The knowledge comes from the deeper layers in the author’s mind. Although they don’t know the reason for it.”

  Kirsty was intrigued. “What is the reason for it?”

  Bill smiled again. “I’ll leave you to find that out for yourself but women, even when they’re in love have a deep instinct to make their man suffer.”

  “Do you mean he will come back to me?” Bill gazed into space as if examining an invisible entity.

  “He loves you enough and …”, he paused, as if wondering how much to tell her, then he continued with a smile. “You are meant to be together.”

  Kirsty felt hope again. “Why can’t you help?”

  He sighed again. “I learned when I was a lot younger that trying to prevent tragedies in people’s lives only leads to greater tragedies.”

  Just for an instant Kirsty again had a glimpse of the little black girl with a huge smile and felt a deep sadness.

  Bill continued. “People are like patterns, patterns that are constantly changing, and extend into the past and the future. I can sometimes help them to change their own patterns, but I can’t directly interfere. Tragedies and death are part of life’s learning and the pattern will change itself to experience what it needs.”

  Kirsty was puzzled. “How can they learn if they die?”

  “Child!” Bill smiled, and Kirsty suddenly felt like a child beside a wise man. “Do you think you only live one life? Do you really think you come into this life as a baby, knowing nothing, are taught a vague set of rules, that even the makers of the rules can’t agree about, then are sent to burn for eternity if you haven’t quite understood and complied? Or on the other hand do you go to a blissful place called heaven because you were lucky enough not to break too many rules?” He looked at her as if deciding whether to tell her some important secret. He continued. “Kirsty, bodies are like clothes, we only wear them for a while. This life is only an experience, one experience among very many.” He saw her eyes go wide as the revelation struck home. He smiled, he’d seen the same look many times before.

  She was silent for a while then asked, puzzled. “Why can I interfere in Alan’s pattern?” Bill’s eyes sparkled as he smiled.

  “Because you are two parts of the same pattern!” Kirsty felt awed.

  She remembered Alan’s idea of people being in two halves. She heard a car come into the drive. Bill left, and she heard a murmured conversation. The lounge door opened, and Kirsty gave a start of surprise.

  Claire smiled. “Hello, Kirsty, I’ve come to help!”

  Bill followed her in and gestured for her to sit on the settee next to Kirsty, then explained to her what Kirsty had been trying to do.

  “What do you want me to do?” she asked.

  “Hold Kirsty’s hand and …” he gave her an intent look. “Find that place inside yourself.”

  Claire felt sudden shock. How could he possibly? Oh! What did it matter. Anyway, she’d suspected as much when he’d phoned. She saw him waiting, and started the breathing she’d learned in her meditation class. She closed her eyes and felt the deep calmness and Kirsty’s hand in hers. Bill put his hands on their heads. Kirsty once more followed the connection to Alan and Claire found the place inside her she’d tried to pretend didn’t exist the place where her love for Alan was hidden. She felt Kirsty and followed her into the seething emotions of Alan’s mind. She remained quite clinical and knew what Kirsty was trying to do. Something inside her, a part she didn’t know existed, mentally reached over Kirsty and manipulated the connection. Alan’s surging feelings immediately quietened. She felt Kirsty’s surprise. She felt her own surprise. She didn’t know what she’d done but something inside her knew. They found themselves still holding hands. Kirsty and Bill smiled at her.

  Kirsty felt the connection to Alan. It was much fainter now, but the dread was gone.

  “Is that it done now?” she asked breathlessly. Bill nodded. She was puzzled. “How did Claire manage to contact Alan?” she asked.

  Grinning at Claire Bill explained carefully. “Claire has a very strong connection to you.”

  “Oh!” Kirsty appeared satisfied with the explanation.

  Bill studied her intently. “What have you learned?”

  Kirsty looked inside herself, after a time she said sadly. “Love must be free!”

  He nodded then asked. “Why?” She looked inside herself again.

  “Because that is part of what love is.”

  Bill smiled. “We’ve all learned something today. Now I think I left some sandwiches somewhere.”

  They were ushered through to the lounge to join David. Bill appeared shortly with tea and sandwiches. They chatted for a while then David took them home. He didn’t ask what had happened other than to inquire if Alan was all right now. He didn’t think he wanted to know. He left to return to Edinburgh soon afterwards.

  In his study, Bill smiled. Claire was far more than she knew herself. He’d like to give her a push, but one couldn’t hurry development. When he’d introduced Alan to her, he’d thought they’d been made for each other.

  He sighed. “Well you’re never too old to learn.”

  He paused in thought, then he murmured. “I wonder when Claire will discover the secret.” He decided to go to bed.

  Alan had a strange dream in which the past and the future were all mixed up. Kirsty was shouting at him, but he couldn’t hear what she was saying. He tried to speak past some barrier, but his mouth wouldn’t work. Later he found himself on an operating table and Claire and Kirsty were sticking knives into him, but he didn’t feel any pain. He woke. He felt different. He stretched and yawned. It was raining, and the warm raindrops felt like kisses on the bare patches of his skin. This evoked a memory that made him feel warm inside. He lay in the rushes trying to bring the memory to mind. He heard faint voices and lay still, listening and waiting.

  Warid and Ajram approached the island, rifles at the ready. Alan watched them searching, taking in the grim faces and the rifles. He understood, his time had come! Sighing, he stood up in full view and waited without fear as Warid raised his rifle.

  Now quite visibly pregnant, Kirsty continued at university, enjoying the work and finding it well within her capabilities. She periodically visited the pre-natal clinic for tests and the hospital for a scan, getting a thrill when the nurse showed her the image of the baby on the screen. She saw a grey mass of lines like the contour lines of a map and it was only when the nurse pointed to an area
and said, “This is his leg” or “This is his head”, that the lines seemed to hear her and take the required form.

  She longed for Alan, occasionally looking inside herself and feeling reassured when she felt his faint presence. She scanned the papers every day for news about Iraq, as the country crept seemingly inevitably towards war.

  The United Nations passed Resolution 678 which set a deadline of January the fifteenth for Iraq to leave Kuwait, after which members could use “All necessary force.”

  Iraq and Britain called up their reserves. There were pictures on the television of tearful goodbyes from girlfriends and wives, to their young men fresh from their civilian jobs, leaving to go to Saudi Arabia. Ted Heath warned that war with Iraq would be a disaster. Two days later Dick Cheney, U.S. Secretary of State promised absolute victory to the coalition forces.

  Christmas came. Claire had Frank around for dinner. A few days later Kirsty left to stay with Alan’s parents. General Sir Peter de la Billiere, the British commander, declared that his men were now ready to fight. There was news of yet more planes being sent to Saudi Arabia.

  In early January. Tariq Aziz and James Baker held talks in Geneva without results. The American Senate and the House of Representatives sanctioned war. The United Nations secretary general, Perez de Cuellar, visited Baghdad but was rebuffed.

  Iraqi diplomats were expelled from Britain. Saddam Hussein gave a defiant speech in Baghdad to an ecstatic assembly of Islamic clerics, promising them victory in “The mother of all battles” accepting their adulation as they cheered and knelt before him to kiss his hand.

  The deadline of January the fifteenth approached. The world held its breath.

  Chapter 44

  Warid, rifle at the ready, stared open mouthed at the spectral figure, it was filthy, hair and beard matted with dirt and twigs, shift in rags, scratches and insect bites covering the revealed parts of the body. A pair of piercing blue grey eyes stared at him unblinkingly. He asked, “Is it you Alan?”

  The figure nodded. “I’m sorry Warid … I didn’t …” It stopped and drew itself upright as if waiting.