It was early. Dawn was barely breaking through the darkness. Not even the gulls were motivated enough to be up this early. She’d hardly slept last night, thinking of the blazing fire, haunted by those she had seen surrounding it. No, she couldn’t wait. She had to get out here and see it again up close.
She knew what she had seen, and it wasn’t what Bryce had seen, which was a bunch of teenagers having a few beers. No, Eryn had witnessed older, weathered sailors, in shirts with huge, billowing sleeves, pants cropped off below their knees, feet bare. Some had bandanas topping off their long hair, some in ponytails. She saw women she could only describe as wenches, dressed in medieval-type peasant dresses, their breasts nearly falling out of the bodices, hanging all over the men, and laughing at some crude joke Eryn couldn’t hear. It was as if she had caught a glimpse of another dimension from which she was separated by a transparent wall. She had felt like an intruder, looking through someone else’s eyes, someone else’s life.
Another life. My life. The possibility made her heart hammer double time. And if she was going to be honest with herself, it was freaking her out a little bit. Okay. She dragged in a lungful of air. I can have an open mind. Let’s just say it was true? The date on her computer, her dream of the man with the mesmerizing eyes, the vision of the man with the velvety kiss, the boat on the beach, the voices last night, the fire. She recounted each one. They all seemed to fit together like pieces of a puzzle.
Reincarnation. Okay, it was a possibility, wasn’t it? But why me? Why now? Maybe she was one of those who remembered a past life. One of those case studies psychologists write about.
She puffed her cheeks and let her breath out slowly. Reincarnation. She knew she was grasping for straws, but she needed some sort of explanation for what she had been experiencing.
Eryn willed herself to clear her mind. Just one more vision, one more voice would convince her. “Okay,” she said out loud. “I’m listening.” She strained her ears for some unusual noise, but the only reply was the sound of the rolling waves. She laughed at herself. What did she expect? A conversation from beyond? For some door to appear in front of her? A door through which she could step into the past and maybe find this man from a life long gone?
She looked around, only slightly relieved when she found nothing had changed. Actually, she was a little disappointed. Whoever this dream-man was, whoever had gotten into her head last night while she and Bryce were on the beach, has gotten her attention. So now what?
She glanced to the horizon, as if the answer would suddenly rise out of the water. Nothing. She turned to face the length of the beach and began her run. The air was heavy, almost palpable, as she cut a path through the moisture-laden fog. She tried to focus on her steps, rhythmic and silent, keeping in time with her breathing, but her mind kept tripping over the possibilities.
“Who are you?” she whispered. A soft rush of warm air brushed past her and then was gone, but there was no breeze. It was more like a sigh that wrapped around her. Like an imprint of a feeling, a feeling long forgotten that hung on the fringes of her mind, just out of reach.
Eryn followed the beach to the cliffs, where the high tide stopped her from going around the rocks. Slapping her hand against the rough surface, she turned and leaned against it, heaving in the moist air. The fog’s strength wavered under the glare of the sun, taking on an orange glow. Scanning the beach around her, she took in all the little details. It dawned on her how many little things escaped her notice after living at the beach for so long. Like the way the waves stretched its fingers up the sand before disappearing out of sight. How the ocean’s color reflected the mood of the sky, or how each ray of sunlight dropped a single diamond upon the sharp peaks of the water. She felt so small standing on the edge of the ocean’s vastness.
She realized she felt more alive this morning than she had in a long time. Her skin tingled with a new awareness of something…more.
“Damn,” she muttered, looking at her watch. As much as she wanted to stay, she had to get back. Hugging herself against the cool air, she tried to focus. There was something hovering just beyond her memory, but she couldn’t grasp it. She shook her head in frustration.
A quick sprint helped to shake off the chill settling in her bones. She drew in deep breaths and the moist, salty air moved through her lungs, exhilarating her in a way that brought her to the brink of laughter. When was the last time she did that?
≈
More often than not, Brandi spent the evenings at Eryn’s house, legs wrapped around the barstool legs, popping olives in her mouth as she watched Eryn cook. It didn’t really bother Eryn much. It was as if her friend was part of the décor. Brandi’s world rotated around Eryn and Bryce. The two of them gave Brandi firm ground to stand on when her life with her fellow actors and party-goers got shaky. Which was often.
Eryn watched from the corner of her eye as Brandi flipped through the latest tabloid, wine glass in hand. She was grateful Brandi wasn’t too talkative tonight, because her own thoughts were bouncing off of each other, hitting up against logic, imagination, and research. A single afternoon at the library gave her entirely too much information for her to grasp in one sitting. She read about encounters with master souls, past life regression sessions, and people transforming their lives because of what they remembered. Eryn started to believe in what she read. It helped explain what was happening to her. The only thing she couldn’t figure out was why it was happening to her.
She wasn’t exactly sure what to do with what she just learned, but she wanted to talk to someone about it. She wanted to hear from someone that she wasn’t delusional.
Maybe she could test the waters with Brandi tonight, she thought. Eryn could, and usually did, tell her just about everything. Brandi knew her as well as Bryce did, and perhaps better. Maybe it wouldn’t come out sounding too crazy, and even if it did, Brandi was quirky enough that she would probably take it in stride. Before she could talk herself out of it, Eryn asked.
“What do you think about reincarnation?” Eryn tried her best to sound nonchalant as she slid a knife quickly across a sharpening steel.
Brandi’s brows came together over an article she was reading.
Maybe she didn’t hear, Eryn thought. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe…
“You mean that living before stuff?” Brandi finally asked.
Eryn didn’t realize she had been holding her breath. She let it out, hoping she didn’t sound as nervous as she felt. “Yeah. That living before stuff.”
Her friend looked thoughtful. “Why would you want to have more than one life? I mean, it would be like watching a bad movie over and over again.”
“Well, not necessarily,” Eryn disagreed. “What if the movie wasn’t so bad in the first place?”
“Yeah, but what if it was?”
“Then you could come back and do it differently.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah.” In spite of herself, Eryn began to get excited about what she was saying. She put down the knife and leaned on the table eager to share her thoughts. “Like, if you knew you were a mean, miserable person in a different life and everybody hated you, then you could come back and make it right again.”
Brandi rolled her eyes. “Oh brother! Now you’re starting to sound like those rejects that have those palm reading shops.” She thought for a moment. “You know, I remember seeing in a movie once that the Buddhist monks think that even worms used to be someone’s mom.”
Eryn straightened up, feeling deflated. Asking Brandi had definitely been a bad idea.
Brandi leaned forward as if in conspiracy. “I went to one of those psychics a long time ago,” Brandi confided, crooking her fingers to form quotation marks. “You know, to find out if I was going to make it in acting or not.”
Eryn raised an eyebrow in surprise. Brandi would have been the last person she’d have thought would seek out a fortune teller. She would more than likely sleep with someone for acting jobs.
Br
andi straightened her back, her lips curled in a sneer. “Anyway, it cost me seventy-five bucks for her to tell me I had some karmic energy or something that needed to be fixed.” She rolled her eyes. “Right. Like I need fixing.” She finished the rest of her wine in one gulp, as if to get rid of a bad taste in her mouth. “You’re not getting all weird on me now, are you?”
Eryn felt heat rise up her cheeks. She shrugged, deciding it was no use. “I saw a program about it the other day,” she lied. “I was just making conversation.”
Brandi’s eyes lit up as Bryce walked into the kitchen. “Hey Bryce! Guess what? Eryn thinks we’re all recycling ourselves.” At his uncomprehending stare, she went on, her hands animatedly flipping back and forth. “You know, dying, coming back to life, dying, coming back to life.”
Eryn gritted her teeth. She grabbed a carrot and started chopping. She could feel Bryce’s unasked question. What the hell is Brandi talking about?
Brandi began to giggle. “I think in my next life I’ll come back as some movie star’s cat and just lay around all day. Or better yet, a dog, so I can just piss on everything.” Now she laughed convulsively, slapping the countertop with her palm, snorting with each intake of air.
Eryn wanted to tell her to shut up, to stop her moronic laughing. She wanted to yell at Brandi that maybe she was just too close-minded. And she wanted to do it without bursting out in tears, but she knew she couldn’t. Besides, she didn’t want either of them to know how much the ridicule bothered her. She took her frustrations out on the carrots, lining them up and chopping at them furiously, not bothering to pick up the ones she sent catapulting across the floor.
Then Bryce was there, taking the knife out of her hand and gently pushing her away. “Here, let me do that. Why don’t you get me some garlic?” He nodded his head in the direction of the pantry.
Eryn grudgingly complied, throwing open the pantry door and staring into its depths, not really seeing. She wanted to believe what she was going through was just her imagination, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t.
“Don’t you have to go to work?” Bryce directed a cool look at Brandi.
“What, you’re kicking me out?” Her laughing faded.
“Of course not,” he said smoothly. “I just didn’t think you wanted to be late.”
Not catching the sarcasm in his voice, Brandi she looked at the clock on the wall. “Oh, shit. It’s later than I thought.” She swung her legs around and stood up. “Oh well. I’ll just let my manager grab my ass and he’ll forget what time it is.”
When Bryce and Eryn just stared at her, she protested, “What?” Brandi looked from one to the other. “Hey, it’s not my fault he’s easy to distract.” She grabbed her jacket and keys off the table and headed towards the door. “Hey, Eryn! Still on for lunch tomorrow?” she said over her shoulder.
“Yeah, sure,” Eryn said with enthusiasm she didn’t feel. She went back to staring inside the pantry.
“Great. See you tomorrow then,” Brandi called from down the hall. The front door slammed shut.
It would just be nice, Eryn thought, if Brandi were supportive for once…just once.
“Garlic. Second shelf down. Basket with onions in it.”
Eryn hadn’t realized she was still staring at nothing until Bryce broke through her thoughts. She grabbed a bulb and snapped off a clove.
“Why do you still keep her around?” He scooped up the cut carrots and dropped them in a bowl before lining up a handful more.
Eryn tossed the clove onto the cutting board. Why did she keep her around? She sighed. “We’ve known each other for a long time. Habit, I guess.”
“She could have been a little more supportive,” he commented.
“What, you believe in reincarnation?” Her head snapped up in surprise.
“Is that what she was talking about?” he said, not looking up. “No. I just didn’t like the way she was giving you a hard time.”
She shrugged. “It didn’t bother me.”
Bryce stared at her, the knife stalled above the carrots. “Eryn, you almost cut your finger off.”
He was right and they both knew it. Brandi had pushed her too far and Eryn let her get away with it. Again. Eryn wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled close to his chest.
They stood in silence, dinner forgotten for the moment. Bryce draped his arms lightly around her back.
The embrace was nothing to cause an inferno, she thought, but it would have to do.
Chapter 12
Catherine sat alone near the cliffs that bordered one side of her father’s lands, not far from the castle walls. It was here, on this side of the castle, where the waters raged the fiercest and were the most ominous. These cliffs were the barriers that softened the blow, tamed the current, and protected the beach and port farther to the south so that the ships could safely anchor.
She studied the ocean stretching to the horizon. Very rarely did she venture here. It usually unnerved her, the distance from the rocky edge to the water below, and the realization of how a slight breeze could mean the difference between life and death. But now she was drawn to it, focusing on the beauty of the water, the rich blues and greens of its depths. The peaks of water drifted up and down over the lazy roll of the swells that eventually found their way to the sharp rocks below. An odd longing tugged in the pit of her stomach, an unrest that contrasted sharply against the soft breeze that drifted up and over the edge of the cliff, carrying the scent of salty seawater to her nose. She lifted her face to feel its caress along her cheeks, welcoming its calming touch.
Though only seventeen summers old, she felt as though she had lived a lifetime. In a few months’ time her father would host a festive ball to herald her eighteenth summer. How much, she wondered, had she really lived? She laughed often when her mother was alive, but that part had retreated to lie undisturbed, and until now she had felt no reason to seek it out. Jonathan had caused the laughter to stir anew, bringing with it memories of happier days at the castle.
Her mother had the ability to cast rays of light to any dark corner and enjoyed a disposition that tamed even the stormiest of nights. Her mother loved life and held it tightly to her breast. She insisted her daughters join her for galloping rides upon the beaches, searching for caves along the cliffs, swimming naked in the waves on moonlit nights. She laughed in the face of propriety. Life was for living, she often told them. She dared to test the limits of life and at the same time, the patience of her husband, but he truly loved her and all that she was.
Her mother's death had devastated Catherine. She vividly recalled the pain that ravished her heart, the tears that would not cease, the days and nights she spent in her chambers, inconsolable, and then the numbness that spread through her body allowing her peace at last. Though the pain finally subsided, the protective cloak that she had donned still remained.
Until now. This merchant, a man of the seas, had ripped a hole in that cloak. He caused her to question herself and made her feel things that confused her, sensations she found disturbing…yet pleasurable. She smiled wryly. Around that man her body had betrayed her. His look, his touch, his mere presence overcame her reasoning. She closed her eyes to conjure up the vision of Jonathan, his muscular shoulders bronzed by the sun, his flowing hair, his lips as he touched them to her skin, and his eyes that gave her soul peace and made her smile.
A noise brought her back to the cliffs.
Emelie fell into a deep curtsey. “Milady, Sir Galen approaches.”
Galen was, Catherine admitted as she turned and watched him stride confidently toward her, a devastatingly handsome knight. He was tall and strong, with his long golden hair framing a face that many a maiden undoubtedly dreamed of. His eyes, steady and serious, were only for her.
He sat down next to Catherine, placing his sword at his side. “I’ve been looking for you, Catherine. I hardly thought to find you here.”
Aye, I am surprising myself these days past. She sighed.
Galen eyed her with curiosity before turning his attention to the ocean. “Aye, that it is.”
They sat in silence for a moment before he added, “But never can it be as beautiful as you.”
She glanced sideways at him. He was a good, kind man, and completely unaware of his own fine looks. His steel blue eyes harbored intense passion and his strong chin held determination.
He had shown his loyalty to her family many times, protecting what he considered his own. If she were to accept Galen to be her husband, she could be happy. He was her champion and her friend. She could not ask for a more perfect match. And he was here with her now. Jonathan would be setting sail in the morning and would be gone, possibly never to return.
“Did you see Lord Oakley this morning?” Galen plucked at the grass beside him, averting his eyes.
“No,” Catherine answered. “I could not have possibly stomached another moment around him.”
He nodded, but still would not look at her. “I saw that your horses were gone. Where did you go?”
Galen was behaving oddly, she thought. He never questioned her whereabouts, knowing well that she frequently rode her horse freely across her father’s lands, often being away for hours.
She would not lie, but she chose her words carefully. “Emelie accompanied me to the port to pass the time until Lord Oakley left for hawking with Father.”
Again he nodded, raising his head to look before him.
Catherine could see him struggling with something, his jaw rhythmically clenching, his eyes looking at the water, but not really seeing what was there. She could see the indecision in the way he ever so slightly rocked back and forth, his breath quick and shallow.
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