Show Me the Danger: The Past Life - Book 2

by Utt, Kelly

  I knew previously about Ali and our baby, who is Ethan, being sent out of the Ancient Greek city we called home. That knowing washed over me at Dr. Epstein’s. But I didn’t remember exactly how or when the journey happened. I guess I sort of speculated that Ali was sent away during her pregnancy, but now I’m remembering and feeling the actual trip out of town and I see that Ethan was, in fact, an infant when it happened. Thank God Ali was allowed to give birth in the city with the assurance of the best care our society had to offer. I feel a rush of relief at the thought. Odd how I’m relieved to know Ethan was born safely in Ancient Greece even though I also remember how his innocent life was taken from him violently.

  These past-life memories are a whirl of emotion that provide both confusion and clarity at the same time. Even though I know the answers all lie within me, I still have so many questions. My subconscious mind remembers everything. Dr. Epstein said it could, and his prompting during hypnosis seemed to have given me the permission I needed to tap into what lies buried in the depths of my mind and soul.

  Ali’s cello music plods onward as I keep my eyes closed, staying with the ancient memory. I decide to ask myself a question while in the memory in an effort to learn more and connect some dots. I try thinking the question: What city did we live in? In a flash, just as quickly as I made the inquiry, the answer comes: Ithaca, Ithaki. I’m thrilled to be receiving an answer, and I’m not surprised at this particular one. It seems like our modern-day connection to Ithaca, New York has a deeper meaning. I find that fascinating, yet I’m too wrapped up in the emotional scene unfolding in my memory to give it much thought. I’ll revisit the connection at a later time. Something or someone is urging me to let go of the need to control the experience. I feel myself floating away from my Greek body just a little, while simultaneously feeling encouraged to follow the memory where it wants to lead me. I want to know more, so I do as I’m prompted. I relax into it and allow myself to go with the flow.

  I squeeze Ethan both with my modern-day arms in our den, as well as in the ancient scene. I am again pulled more solidly into my Greek body and into the emotions that go along with it. I become overwhelmed with fear for my lover and our child. I’m terrified at the prospect of the two of them living outside of Ithaki, without the protections and accommodations afforded to those of us in the city.

  The various dangers and pitfalls are racing through my mind like a real-life nightmare. Ali and Ethan could be too hot without fans and cool baths, or too cold without enough blankets and soft bedding. I want my baby boy to be warm and comfortable. Infants need warmth to stay alive and to thrive. Ali and Ethan could run out of food or water. I imagine they’ll be able to get some sort of garden going, but the food they harvest won’t last them through the winter. Not to mention, it will be a difficult task to protect the garden from predators and thieves. And getting clean water won’t always easy. We take these things for granted in the city. Out in the country where Ali and Ethan are going, every single task will bring a new set of challenges. I’m not sure Ali is cut out for all of this. She’s used to being waited on and cared for. Her delicate hands have never known what it’s like to become calloused from hard work. She and Ethan could get sick and suffer unnecessarily without access to our medicine and baths. They could be mauled by wild animals. They could be harassed, robbed, or hurt by pillagers. And, as I remembered at Dr. Epstein’s, that’s what really does happen. Or did happen. It’s heartbreaking.

  My entire existence in this ancient life is about protection. I’m a soldier. I began training for my role as a boy. I’ve dedicated my body, mind, and soul to keeping the people of Ithaki safe. I would give my life at a moment's notice to do so. I’d be proud to do so. Our city and way of life are worth fighting for. Our home is beautiful and civilized. We have gorgeous palaces, public baths, and fine establishments for dining and entertainment. I’d go as far as to say that we’re one of the best, most beautiful and enlightened cities in the entire world. I don’t know what else is out there in the world in this time period because my ancient perspective doesn’t afford me that knowledge. But I know in my bones how wonderful our place is. It’s an honor and a privilege to call it home. When I look up to the heavens, I’m thankful to have found myself in such a glorious time and place. Which is why I’m so upset that Ali and Ethan can’t stay to enjoy it with me. And that I can’t keep them safe. That fact shakes me to my core. My entire existence is about protecting what’s good and meaningful. Now I have my very own good and meaningful loved ones, I can’t be with them. And I can’t protect them. What a cruel twist of fate.

  I look over at Ali again to gauge her readiness for the adversity she’s about to encounter. She looks back at me in desperation, wanting me to somehow stop this. She speaks. Her voice is shaky, her body trembling with fright.

  “My love, turn us around,” she says. “Do something.”

  My heart skips a beat when I hear these words. I’m taken aback by the experience of both feeling Ali’s presence in the modern-day room with me and seeing and hearing her voice in my memory of an ancient life. It’s surreal. Her pain is palpable in both places. It’s almost like the emotion she conveys as she plays the cello comes from the great pain she endured in Ancient Greece. It’s still in her. The ache of losing each other and of losing our precious son is still in there. It’s in both of us.

  My mind moves to the recent memory of Ali in January on the night of the break-in here in New York. I had to keep moving if I had any prayer of saving Ethan, but I saw my wife immobilized with sheer terror. She was huddled in a near-fetal position on the floor at the top of the stairs. She was shaking, trying to catch her breath, and holding onto her pregnant belly with little Will still inside. She looked at me, pleading with her eyes to do something. I saw the depth of the terror she was overcome with. She was facing a primal fear shared by all mothers, and hers was an imminent reality. Worse, that fear had materialized into a tragedy of the worst kind once before. A part of my wife must remember our ancient life and the great losses we experienced. Thank God that Lady, Roddy, and I could get to Ethan this time before the intruder got away with him. And thank God for the dream where Dad told me to wake up and be ready. And the scream that no one else heard. If things hadn’t happened exactly as they did, Ethan would have been taken and hurt. And killed, just like he was in Greece. It pains me to think about it, even though I know the reality. I want to push it out of my mind and never think about it again. I’m torn between the desire to get to the bottom of what happened in Greece and to pretend none of it ever did. I know I have to find out. But I’m terrified, same as my wife. Just like in Greece, I’m a soldier. I began training when I was young. I’d give my life now to protect my loved ones and our way of life. I’d be proud to. But it’s complicated.

  What am I going to do? How can I keep them safe?

  Back in the Greece memory again, I feel my blood beginning to boil as anger courses through me. My thoughts turn from the threats my wife and son will face to the people responsible for this impossible situation. I don’t think a question, exactly, but my anger seems to have prompted another wave of knowing. In a flash, I remember that a council of leaders convened to vote on Ali and Ethan’s fate. I can see the group in my mind. An older man and a woman are in charge. I can see their silver hair and fine clothing. They enjoy positions of favor and high status. They have little sympathy for those who don’t live by their rules and they’re offended that Ali and I broke them by becoming pregnant. I can’t make out their faces, but I get the idea that I know them well. It’s all fuzzy.

  I see others convened along with the prominent two. Six or eight total decision makers are in attendance. I’m watching from what seems like a public viewing area. No one is asking me what I think or want. The proceedings go on without regard to the implications for my life. I’m a commoner. They don’t think my opinion matters, which makes me furious. I didn’t do anything wrong other than fall in love with the wrong woman. But that woman and I
belong together. We love each other truly and deeply. My social status shouldn’t matter. I feel the muscles in my Greek body tense and ball up as I watch the proceedings. I want to rage like a madman, tossing the feeble leaders around like the bags of hot air they are. I want to, but I don’t. I’ve been taught to obey orders. My code of honor won’t allow me to disrupt the established order of things. I begin to feel an overwhelming sadness at my inability to do anything about what happened.

  I’ve had enough for now. I consciously disengage, exhausted from the enormity of it all. I float up and above the scenes, watching both the public proceedings and our ride out of the city simultaneously become smaller. Ancient Greece grows more and more distant as I settle firmly into my current life and body here in New York.

  I feel the sensation of dampness on my face and realize tears have been flowing. I wasn’t aware of the wetness when it was coming out. It feels similar to the way it did after hypnotherapy at Dr. Epstein’s office. It’s like the emotion has always been inside of me and as the memories are experienced, the tap flows. It’s a physical mechanism. I don’t think that part can be avoided. Ethan is still leaning hard on my shoulder. He’s awake but in a contemplative state of stillness. His silky hair is wet from my tears. I glance from side to side at Liam and Roddy. They’re still leaning against me and almost holding me upright, but neither of them looks back to meet my gaze. They’re here for me no matter what I’m going through, and it means so much. They don’t even ask questions. I want to share my memories with them soon. Maybe this trip will provide that opportunity.

  Ali finishes her performance with a long, quivering low note and opens her eyes to see us gathered around. I don’t think she was consciously aware of us until this very moment.

  She tilts her chin down, a little embarrassed by the audience. Leo claps, then the rest of us join him in a round of enthusiastic applause. We move in to embrace Ali together, resulting in the most loving group hug. Happy smiles and sounds of mutual admiration fill the room and my heart.

  People often talk about heaven on earth. I’m convinced that this is it. Right here and now, with my irreplaceable family. This is the closest to heaven we could possibly get. I want us to stay like this forever.

  Part II

  A Proper Adventure

  5

  Leaving the Nest

  It’s still dark when we wake up for our early flight. Everything is ready to go, so we just have to take quick showers and hit the road. Breakfast is already packed. Mom is planning to check on our house while we’re away, which affords us the convenience of not having to worry too much about how we leave things. Besides, Liam, Roddy, and I are good at running through systems and checks to ensure we aren’t missing anything. We have our to-do lists and divided responsibilities. I’m confident the place is buttoned up and ready for our absence. The alarm system will be armed and monitored per Taye’s instructions.

  Little Will is in bed between Ali and me. He spent the night with us like usual. Roddy and Marjorie offered to keep him upstairs with them, but Ali wanted to be sure Will felt comfortable enough to sleep soundly overnight. That was probably a good call. We don’t want a fussy baby on our hands while traveling across the country. It will be challenging enough for Will to deal with the air pressure changes and the resulting pain in his ears on the plane. Breastfeeding should help him dislodge any air bubbles, but being rested will help him handle the new experiences and discomforts with greater ease. I’ll admit, I’m a little nervous about how it will go with three kids under age five on an airplane with so many other people. Ethan and Leo have always been good travelers though. For now, we’ll assume our littlest boy will be the same.

  I stand up out of bed within minutes after I open my eyes. I’m excited about the trip and want to get moving. I set my audio player to Good Life by OneRepublic and take my turn in the shower first since I know I can be fast. It’s warm outside and I can feel it even though we have air conditioning running indoors. As the cool shower water pours over me, I think about how refreshing it will be to swim in Lake Tahoe. We’ll be at the vacation rental house by dinnertime tonight. If I can get away from the hubbub of getting the boys situated in the new place, I think I’ll hop into the lake for a quick dip before I go to sleep. Maybe some of the others will join me. I’m sure I can count on Liam. Sitting on the dock and drinking is kind of our thing. We’ve done it many times at his house on the Potomac in D.C. Some of my very best memories are of sitting on that dock with my uncle and talking about the meaning of life while we looked up at the stars. It was my regular hangout spot before I met Ali.

  When I’m finished in the bathroom, I take Will from his mom and we head upstairs to get him washed up and dressed for the trip. Ali picked out a cute outfit for the little guy last night and left it on top of his dresser to make things easy for me. It’s a two piece with short, yellow cotton overalls featuring a tiny blue fish on the front and a white shirt underneath. Will looks adorable in everything he wears. Fellow travelers will no doubt stop to ooh and ahh over our sweet guys at the airport. I don’t mind the attention. They’re great boys. I’m super proud of them. They’ll probably enjoy the attention.

  “Here we go, little Will,” I say to my youngest son as I change his diaper and clean him up. “Let’s get you all nice and clean. We’re going on a big trip today and you’ll want to look your best.”

  Will smiles and babbles in response. Babies are always so happy in the morning. Too bad we can’t all share their enthusiasm for each new day. The world would be a better place if we somehow could.

  I’m buttoning the little yellow overalls when I hear a scream from the next room. It’s Ethan. I recognize his voice immediately. My heart sinks to the floor before I have time to respond intellectually and reason my way into calming down. It’s all too fresh. My rational mind knows this scream is most likely nothing to be too concerned about. Maybe my son saw a spider. Maybe he had a bad dream. But my body remembers the time when it was more.

  The bursts of energy required to propel myself forward in enough time to rescue my son were tremendous. Every movement I made that night is forever seared into my body memory. Heaving myself up the stairs as fast as I could while filled with complete and utter terror was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. I’m not sure my body will ever forget what happened just six short months ago.

  Beads of sweat form on my brow. I place Will down gently in his portable crib. He doesn’t sleep in here, but we use it when we need him safe and secure for a few minutes. A part of me is hesitant to leave him alone right now. What if there is a real danger and I’ve left my infant son alone and unattended? But I have to go to Ethan. I kiss my hand and motion to Will as a gesture of my affection, then I raise one finger in front of my lips to signal him to stay quiet. I hustle out into the hall, closing the door to Will’s room behind me.

  “Ethan, son?” I call out.

  No answer.

  His bedroom door is closed. It’s the same bedroom he was in when the intruder broke through the window and took him out. For a while, Ethan and Leo slept downstairs near us. We considered moving them to a new room permanently, but ultimately decided we should reclaim the scene of the crime as a positive space in our home. The boys have been back in the old bedroom for a few months now.

  “Ethan?” I try again as I rush towards the door.

  Roddy hears me and comes out into the hall, just like he did on that awful night in January. A feeling of deja vu settles over me. Here we are in the same positions, with the same concerns. We’re going through the exact same motions. I’m closest to the door and will take lead on the breach if it needs to happen again. Roddy is right behind me, ready to do his part to assist. The only comfort I have right now is that we saved Ethan once before and so can hopefully do it once again if that’s what we’re facing. Except Lady isn’t here this time. She can’t assist us from Jen and Duke’s house. That thought sends a wave of panic through me. What are we going to do?

/>   The moment I place my hand on the door handle, I feel it turn from the inside. The door opens slowly. It’s dark in the room, but I quickly make out my son’s silhouette against the blackness.

  “Ethan!” I say as I kneel and pull him towards me for a hug. Roddy and I look at each other in relief as I embrace my child. I don’t remember having taken a breath in the last few minutes. My nerves can’t take much of this.

  “Daddy?” he begins.

  “Yes?” I ask. “What is it? Are you alright?”

  “I had a bad dream,” he replies, leaning his little head down hard on my shoulder. It’s the same pose we were in last night while listening to Ali play the cello.

  Roddy steps around us and into the bedroom to check on Leo while Ethan and I talk.

  “Oh, no,” I say in my best calming dad voice. “Bad dreams aren’t any fun. What was the dream about?”

  “It was scary, Daddy,” Ethan says. “Very, very scary.”

  “Awe,” I answer. “You’re safe now, buddy. You can tell me. Nothing can hurt you now.”

  Roddy is walking back out of the bedroom. He motions his head towards Lio and winks to let me know all is well. I look at my father-in-law as I reassure Ethan, and I wonder if he can see the desperation in my eyes. I want everything I’m saying about Ethan being safe to be true. But I can’t help but wonder if it really is. I don’t know how hard the pillagers tried to kidnap Ethan in Ancient Greece or how many times they tried before they were successful. And I don’t know if the getaway driver from the January abduction attempt will try again in the here and now. It’s a terribly frightening thought that haunts me.