John’s eyes blinked slowly, and though he was covered in goosebumps and wanted to tell her that it was okay, that she is more than paying in this life for anything wrong she did in all the others that came before, he just moves her on.
“It’s okay. That was a long time ago and now you are safe. Let’s go back even further. Can you go back before you were Francine?”
Whimpering and clutching her jeans with her hands, Piper nods.
“I’m in my shop in the piazza. I have a lot of customers and they all demand the same thing. I wish I had more but I have to wait for the ships to bring it. They are all shouting for the fever tree, the holy bark. They shout at me. ‘The malaria is killing me! It is killing our children!’ I don’t have enough for every one of them and they are pulling at me and hitting me with their fists. I don’t have time for this. I have another job. Don’t they know I would help if I could? I have to get home to my farm and my wife. She is expecting our first child any day now. But they are hitting me with their fists. I don’t have time. I want to help, but they are cursing me and they pull me from behind my desk. Why can’t they understand that I just don’t have enough of the medicine bark for them all? One man drags me into the street and they are stealing everything I have, They are kicking me. I don’t have time to be kicked and dragged! I have work to do. I am biting someone’s leg now and he smashes my head with his boot!”
Piper moved uncomfortably in the chair and put her arms up to protect her head.
“Okay, Piper. That’s good. Let’s move on again. Send love and healing to yourself in this time. You did what you could do. Some people will never appreciate the sacrifice of others. It’s just how it is. You are safe. Let’s go back further.”
For more than a few moments Piper sat in silence, eyes closed comfortably, and breathing calmly. John sat back and waited. He knew it was this next lifetime that was the most significant. The one that he sometimes wished he could join her in.
“Tell me, Piper. Where are you?”
“At home on our farm. Peyrinne! My beautiful girl!”
John leaned forward. “Is Vander there with you?”
“Yes! Vander! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know! I should have listened to you! I’m sorry!”
“What didn’t you know?” John’s voice was just loud enough for Piper to hear him.
“Marek! My brother. Oh, my sad brother. He needed me. He wanted a place to sleep. He was so tired and hungry. Père died a few days ago, and we are all so tired and sad, so sad. I’m begging Vander to let him stay with us but he is stubborn. I’m telling him that I would open my home to his brothers and their wives and children. I have no patience! He raises his voice to me and says that Marek has the devil in him. I am so angry with him. How can he say these things about my poor brother who just lost his father? I am running outside to Marek, and I’m holding him in my arms and telling him he can stay with us. He is drunk again with the ale from that filthy tavern and he needs a bath. But I love him and he needs me. I am all he has left. Vander is leaving, taking Pieferet out in the dark. He shouts to me to make sure Marek sleeps in the barn. Marek curses him. I am helping him into the house, and I’m yelling at my children. Don’t look at your uncle like that! He’s not a dog! He needs his family!”
John pushed gently, “What now, Piper? Why are you so upset?”
“I’m in my bed alone. Vander did not come home. I am worried. He is never gone for this long. I must have fallen asleep but then there’s a loud noise! And I can hear someone moving in the loft and yelling! I don’t know what. I’m climbing the loft with the lantern, calling to my brother and my children. Are you fine, what is the matter? And Vander’s there! He’s dragging Marek away and when he does, I can see Peyrinne! Oh God, my Peyrinne! Her bedclothes are torn and she has blood on her legs! No! No! Vander doesn’t see me and he throws Marek out the loft and knocks me down the ladder! The lantern! The fire, it’s burning the table and the floor. The children! Luuk, Philip, Peyrinne! Vander! The children! Oh thank God, he’s coming down the ladder with Peyrinne in his arms and puts her in mine. I smell his fear and his hatred. He goes back to the loft for the twins. The flames are so hot, and I can’t breathe. Marek! He’s not moving. I can’t help him! Marek, how could you hurt my child!? Vander’s coming, he has the boys.”
Piper clutches the arms of the recliner, turning her knuckles white. “I am running out into the night air. No! Vander only has one of the boys. It’s Luuk, and he is screaming for Philip but the flames … the flames! It’s too hot. We are choking on the smoke and run outside with Luuk and Peyrinne. The whole house is burning, and I cannot get close to it. Vander’s running toward it! No, Vander don’t go in there! Philip! My son! Philip! Vander! He is trying to get through the flames. I can hear my son—my beautiful, sweet boy! Philip!” Piper writhed in the chair, hands clawing at her face, kicking out at invisible flames.
John swallowed hard. He knew what would come next. He had read the notes a hundred times over the years. When his father first told him about Piper, when John Jr. decided to study hypnotherapy, he remembered her. She was the little girl whose parents brought her to the house to play with him. Or at least, that’s what he thought she was there for. His mother put out cookies and tea like she did whenever they had company. She would tell John, “Go get your game of jacks and the two of you can play for a little while so the grown-ups can talk, Johnny.” He remembered how the little girl was reluctant at first but when she decided to play, she played for keeps. He liked that about her. There were only five visits but each one was special, especially the second one when she told him, “My friend Vander likes you. He says you will have to wait but someday you will remember this day and smile.”
He looked at her as she scooped up six jacks in one bounce of the small red ball and said, “I’m smiling now, though.”
Catherine bounced the ball on the linoleum floor of the kitchen. Bounce, bounce, bounce. Suddenly, she grabbed it mid-bounce and held it tightly. Shaking her head, she said, “No. He says it will be a long, long time from now. And the smile will be way bigger.”
Many years later, sitting with his father in the office, looking at the notes, he asked, “What do you think her friend meant by that?”
John Sr. looked over his glasses at his son proudly and said, “I’m not sure, Johnny. I think maybe she meant that Vander knew you would be here continuing my work.”
Over the years, John Jr. read the notes time and time again, trying to glean some meaning from her words. He not only thought there was more significance to it, he felt it. And the day he got up the nerve to contact her parents to see how Piper was doing, he realized he would never find out.
“Leukemia.” Elizabeth Turchino’s voice was cold and she made it quite clear she did not appreciate the phone call from the doctor’s son. In her mind, the doctor did his job, was paid, and that was the end of the story.
John was still remembering his disappointment when he asked, “Piper, what’s happening?”
“Philip is screaming for me. ‘Maman!’ He is calling, ‘Maman help me; I’m so scared! Maman help me, it’s burning!’ Vander is trying to get through the hell fires and he can’t. He’s screaming for our son. ‘Philip, my son, Père loves you! Philip!’ And then the screaming stops.”
Piper covered her face in the chair, eyes still shut. She sobbed and clutched at her hair. “Vander is holding Luuk and crying. He’s looking at me with Peyrinne. There’s blood still dripping down her thin legs. I … I can’t stop screaming for my son.”
John said gently, “Okay. Move forward now, Piper; tell me what happens next.”
“We are burying him, my little brave boy. Vander is carrying his body and moaning. Peyrinne is holding my hand. She won’t talk to anyone. Luuk is there, my only son! My beautiful son. We wrapped Philip in the blanket I knit before Peyrinne was born. It doesn’t cover all of him, but it’s all we have left from the fire. It was out on the fence drying when the fire happened. Luuk is holding his broth
er’s burned hand, and my heart is broken. I cannot go on. I can’t watch my love bury our son. But Peyrinne is pulling at me, and I don’t want to go. I want to die. I want to be with my Philip. Vander is putting him in the ground. No, Vander! I can’t watch you do this. He is taking his wedding medallion off. It’s in the dirt now with our boy. He doesn’t want to hurt him; he puts the dirt on him so gently, but he is dead and it’s my fault. It’s all my fault! I can smell the dirt now: it’s in my nose and I brought flowers, but I don’t like the way they smell today. Nothing can be happy or beautiful anymore. I want to crawl into the dirt with my little one! Vander is on his knees praying, but God doesn’t hear him. He never hears us! Why does a woman have to bury her father, brother, and son in the same week? There is no god that would let that happen! I would give anything to listen to Vander and tell Marek to leave us, to find his own way. We all have to find our own way ….”
John stepped in again. “Okay, Piper, you’re right, we all have to find our own way. Now, I want you to listen to my voice. I am going to count now and when I get to five, you will slowly come back and you will be safe and refreshed here in my office. One, two …”
Piper whimpered and nodded.
“… three, four, and five. Open your eyes, Piper.”
She blinked at the light and looked at Dr. Corcoran, confused.
“What happened? Did we start yet?”
He smiled at her. “Yes we started and finished. See how easy that was? You went back to your lifetime over a century ago when you were, believe it or not, Piper.”
She looked out the window then and realized that the sun was very low in the sky. Looking back at the doctor she said, “I do. I do believe it.”
THE MORNING SUN GLINTED on the cobblestones after the night’s warm rain. The city was just waking and sounds of daily life found her through the stone building: shod hooves on the streets, hawkers selling their wares, merchants chatting outside their shops. Piper managed to get out of the narrow bed and walk to the parlor without the aid of her cane. Funny, how something I have done my whole life without thinking now takes great concentration. But today was Friday—her favorite day as she would have visitors as usual at week’s end. My Gabriela will bring the little one to visit mid-morning. I hope she brings the tea and oranges. Oh, and the pastries and flowers! How she loved the flowers and the sweet smell of freshly washed baby’s skin. The very thought of tiny fingers and toes, giggles and hair like spun gold soothed her aching heart. She looked at the charcoal portrait on the wall, which spoke to her of a precious time long gone by. In the silver frame she stood next to Vander with Peyrinne and Luuk in front of them, all smiling. She was wearing her best dress and her only necklace, the one with the pearl. The portrait was drawn in front of their first storefront, Perfumerie Bleu. How proud he was that day, she thought, shaking her head and smiling at forlorn memories.
“How time marches on. But why do we follow?” Piper spoke aloud.
Vander seemed to be looking at her through the paper in the frame, those eyes so loving and so pained, the grief of losing Philip never losing its grip on either of them. How she longed to hear his voice; it had been so long. Thirty-four years had passed since she buried him, almost as long as they were married. The years had been kind to her and her family had grown so. Never did she think she would live to see her grandchildren having children, never mind seeing those children become parents, too. But here she was, waiting for them to visit on this beautiful summer morning, the sun shining through her window, promising a beautiful day.
She folded her hands in her lap and noticed that they still bore a slight resemblance to the hands that had held her mother’s when she was ill, the hands that scrubbed her brother’s bed linens, cooked the family’s meals, placed a wedding medallion around Vander’s neck, and held the tiny hands of her children as they took their first steps. But now these hands were wrinkled and gnarled with arthritis, painful and slow. She caressed one with the other, the way he used to. Closing her eyes, she visited that sweet time when they had had their whole lives ahead of them, so young and so eager to begin their journey together. One never knows what’s around the bend in the lane, but if you have a true friend you can get through anything. Thinking then of Philip and how his life had just begun when he was taken from her, she smiled to know that he and Vander were together, probably riding Pieferet and Henk through fields of lavender and gold in heaven. My sweet boys, she thought. How she ached for them, all of them.
The knock at the door startled her, bringing her back to her small flat on Rue de Verneuil.
“Coming,” she said but the door was already opening. In rushed the second youngest of her great-great grandchildren, two-year-old Jacque.
“Grand-mère!” He ran to her despite his mother’s admonitions to be careful and not knock her over. She bent forward in her chair and hugged him with a love so deep, she didn’t want to let go. She inhaled deeply, loving the smell of his soft skin.
“Did I ever tell you that you have your Père’s eyes, my love?”
He wriggled free of her and sneezed as he always did when she wore perfume. They all laughed at this, as if they had forgotten to expect it. He rubbed his nose and went in search of some trouble to get into. His mother, Gabriela, lumbered in, heavy with child and laden with packages.
“Oh Grand-mère, I am out of breath!” she said. Piper looked at her with empathy.
“I remember that feeling. Can I help you, Love?”
“No, you stay right there. I’m fine, just wishing this baby would hurry.” She looked at Piper and stopped.
“Are you feeling well?”
Piper, realizing she must be disheveled, having risen only an hour before, ran her fingers through her hair, to the gray bun that sat on the top of her head.
“Oh, don’t worry about me, I’m just old.” She meant to be lighthearted but knew it didn’t come across that way.
Gabriela came closer and sat with her at the table.
“I brought your favorites: croissants with fresh raspberries and blackberries. Are you hungry?”
She nodded and took the packages from her.
“Jacque, come to the table and have breakfast with your grand-mère,” she said. He was busy playing with the toys she kept for him and all her grandchildren.
“Gabriela, tell me. Have you been to the factory to see René, to try the new scents? I’m trying to be patient waiting for him to bring them to me. I think he feels I am too old to have a hand in the business, but I’m still sharp and my nose still works just as well as it always has.”
Her great-granddaughter laughed aloud and touched her arm.
“Of course, you are not too old! That’s your factory and where would René or any of us be without you and that nose of yours?”
Piper laughed at the sense of humor she appreciated so. Together they sat in the midmorning sun and shared breakfast.
When she and Vander had settled in the city so long ago, Piper had thought, I will just curl up and die in this place made of stone. No fields, no space for a garden, no fresh eggs from my own hens, and far too many people! But life moved her along as it always had, and while it took some time, she reluctantly adapted to life in the city. They boarded Pieferet in a stable used by the city’s coachmen, to which Piper walked every day to groom him and bring him apples from the market, shining them with her apron on the way. To be sure his hooves were not being eaten by the cobblestone streets she soaked them in a bath of sea salt, lavender, and geranium oils.
Vander continued to farm his fields of lavender, making the long trek to the countryside often. In the city, he entered into the business deal he had hoped Piper would have been agreeable to years prior, and this partnership changed their lives in so many ways. His flowers were considered to be of the highest quality because of the soil in which they grew, rich in limestone and not far from the sea. Endless cartloads were bought by soap makers, “noses,” glove factories, and the tanneries of Grasse and Marseilles to hi
de the putrid odors that came with the processing of leather goods. Word of his fine flowers reached far. He was visited by alchemists from across the sea, bringing more business than he knew what to do with.
Piper became involved only to help him with his workload, hoping it would be necessary only temporarily. But as months melted into years, and the children grew more independent, she began to really enjoy her work; so far from anything she had ever imagined doing. Mixing essential oils, experimenting with fragrance, it seemed she had developed a unique gift that was quite sought after.
On more than one occasion, she was asked to leave her “husband’s paltry little business” to work in the grand perfumeries of Marseilles and Grasse by businessmen who, no matter their status and wealth, did not possess her natural ability. She felt, however, that they were just trying to squelch their competition. To these requests, she literally and figuratively turned up her nose.
The money came and with it distinction. Neither of them being the sort to take blessings for granted, they banked most of the money, and graciously ignored the attention, living comfortably in the small apartment in which she still lived.
“Grand-mère, I brought you some of that glöggi you love so much. You know what I call it, don’t you?” Piper tilted her head to the side, anticipating a comical punch line from her firecracker of a great-granddaughter. “Turpentine with a cinnamon stick,” the young lady said. They both had a good laugh at that as Gabriela brought out the cobalt bottle and placed it on the table.
“Oh my love, you know it brings back such memories. Will you open it for me? I just want to smell it.”
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