“About three years, I guess, Anton. How have you been?”
“Can’t complain. Getting a little creaky, but that’s to be expected at 72, I suppose.”
“You look great,” Dr. Feldman said, grinning. “Still working out?”
“Yeah. The stair-climber, the machines, sit-ups. All the usual crap. But, I suspect you’re not here to discuss my health? What’s up, my young friend? You look harried”
“I… I’ve run into something really strange. I need some advice. Maybe more than just advice.”
“Tell me about it.” The older man moved behind the huge old polished desk, sinking into his dark leather executive chair.
Feldman said, “First, tell me, how you feel nowadays about Past Life Regression? Any new ideas?”
“Hmm. Well, it’s certainly been getting a lot of attention lately. Many interesting stories that sound convincing, but are hard to prove. I still feel the experience is a self-induced fantasy, orchestrated by the subconscious to assign reason and understanding to events we can’t handle in any other manner. We’ve discussed this before. I’ve not seen anything new to dissuade me from my position. You’ve been exposed to an incident in your practice, I take it?”
“Yes. But more than that.”
“Tell me about it. I’m not expecting my next patient for an hour.”
“Good. Well, hold onto your hat. You may be about to revise your thinking.”
“Oh?” Eyebrows raised, the older man sat forward with rapt attention.
“I acquired a new patient several months ago,” Feldman said. “She came to me harboring an irrational fear of sex. Not just reluctance, but real terror. Almost a fear for her life. After several sessions, we decided to try regression. All the symptoms pointed to childhood abuse, though that seemed unlikely, knowing her family background.”
“And...?”
“Nothing, not even in her earliest years. Finally, I told her to go back to whenever the reason for this anxiety first occurred. Next thing I knew, she was speaking French. Not school French, either. Elegant, perfect French. I asked her to speak English, and she did, but with a French accent. She saw herself as a French Countess in the late 17th Century. The Countess Victoria du Chevalier.” He paused, rubbing the bridge of his nose, sighing softly.
“Go on. This is getting interesting.”
“You can’t imagine! Cutting to the heart of things, she was having an affair with an English nobleman, Charles Wallace, Earl of Devonshire. They were brutally murdered while making love in the forest.”
“Ahh. The reason for her terror, I take it.” Dr. Krause had steepled his fingers under his chin, eyes half closed as he listened.
“That’s what I thought. I explained the fantasy to her and sent her off. Case closed, right?”
“Apparently, there was more.”
“Obviously. The panic was still there. So, we tried again. This time we ended up in mid-19th Century Philadelphia. Now, she was Morgana Quincy. Without going into tedious details, it was a somewhat similar situation. And it ended in the same manner… the brutal murder of her and her lover, while picnicking in the woods. Again, they were making love when the act occurred.”
“A double whammy, huh. Murdered twice. Certainly enough to make her afraid, fantasy or not.”
“Yes, but that’s just the beginning.”
“Really?” Dr. Krause leaned forward, jotting some notes.
“Shortly afterwards, I began seeing an established patient again; Craig Thornton. He was having problems with his marriage to a promiscuous vixen. Those details aren’t important. We did a regression, searching for something that had begun bothering him.”
Feldman held his older friends eyes for a moment, then sighed, settling back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“We apparently found it… in 17th Century England.”
“You’re kidding!” Krause was alert, sitting very straight, hands flat on the desk in front of him. “Don’t tell me he was...”
“…The Earl, Charles Wallace.”
“My God! Do they know each other now?”
“Their good friends, actually. Through horseback riding. But, none of this past life stuff had ever been discussed between them.”
“His memories. Were they the same… ?”
“Identical! I stopped him short of seeing his murder. I was really shaken, I can tell you that.”
“And the 19th Century. Was that him again?”
“Absolutely! And again identical memories. I didn’t let him see his death there, either.”
“Are you still seeing them both?”
“Of course not. I referred Mrs. Easton to Rachel Caslow.”
“Good choice. She may be more comfortable with a woman, and Rachel has a lot of experience with regression.”
“I know. That’s why I chose her. But there’s more, Anton. Something extremely disturbing.”
“Good God, man. What you’ve already told me has shaken everything I believe in. What more can there be?” He sat back and grimaced, as if bracing for a blow to the head.
“Would you believe, during their regressions, I found myself there, too?”
“Where?”
“The 17th and 19th Centuries, that’s where!”
“What!”
“I don’t understand it, either. But, as Mrs. Easton, now the French countess, saw her last hours, I began to actually see them making love in that forest glade. It was as if I were with someone, spying on them through the thickets. I saw myself… us, actually… sneak up on them. We rushed out of the woods. I saw them die.”
“My God, man… ”
“It was horrible. Even after her memory ceased, I continued seeing the blows obliterating them. They were bludgeoned into an unrecognizable pulp. She sat in my office, screaming in panic, and I could do nothing but watch.”
“Horrifying!”
“That’s not the worst of it.”
“Jesus, what could be… ?”
“I was filled with anger. Deadly anger. It’s possible I may have been their killer. I hated them!”
“Unbelievable! Utterly ridiculous. You don’t have a violent bone in your body.” Krause stood, beginning to pace.
“Not now, maybe. But what about during the 17th and 19th Centuries?”
“You were there… ?”
“Both times. The same hate, the same fury, the same involvement. Again, I saw their total annihilation, even after her memories ended. I was part of it, both times.”
“And you believe this?” The older man stood, shaking his head in wonder.
“What else am I to believe?” Feldman rubbed his eyes, trying to head off a headache.
“A coincidence? A synergistic fantasy?”
Feldman’s laugh was a derisive bark.
“C’mon, doctor. That’s pushing the envelope, even for us. Besides, I have more proof.”
“Proof? How could you have any real proof?”
“You know Jack Wexler?”
“Professor of History at Northwestern?”
“Right. More specifically, French history. He researched this for me. So did I, in fact. Jack called me yesterday. In the year 1695 Charles Wallace, Earl of Devonshire, and Victoria du Chevalier, Countess of Beaujolais, were found torn to shreds in the woods of Devonshire.”
“I found what amounted to the obit, but Jack found the details. They had come up missing during the first fox hunt of the year. They were naked, their clothes found in a neat pile at the edge of the glade. All exactly as Mrs. Easton… and I… remember it.”
“Could she have read the story?”
“Never. It was so obscure, it took Jack a week to find it. A bear was blamed for their deaths.”
“And the 19th Century?”
“I’ve been working on it. I found a Jonathan Denton then, in shipping, with a daughter named Morgana. There was an attorney, Robert Isaac, registered in Philadelphia. I’ve learned that much, but I’ve got to do more digging to discover what
happened to them.”
“Jesus, Bruce. Apparently, you already know!”
“It certainly seems that way, doesn’t it?”
“Well, if you believe in past lives… ”
“I’m converted,” Bruce Feldman smiled wanly. Krause nodded.
“I’m not surprised. But as I was saying, as I understand the theory, small groups of souls tend to travel from life to life together, sometimes changing relative roles, sometimes not.”
“I know, and that’s what worries me.”
“That these two lovers are together again… ”
“And so is their killer!”
“It can’t be you, Bruce. not in this lifetime.”
“How do I really know that, my friend? We all have the beast harnessed within us. Who knows what ancient hate might set it free?”
“So, there may be only one way for us to settle the real facts.”
“I know. Do my own regressions, and face the consequences. That’s why I’m here. You’re the only one I can trust with this.”
“Thank you… I think. But, there’s no time left today. I can clear two hours on Thursday, at 2:00 p.m. Is that good for you?”
“Of course. We can’t dilly-dally. I’m afraid time may be short.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
Craig swung out of the saddle and stepped over to take her bridle, steadying the horse as she dismounted.
“That was fun,” Ashley said. “I love cantering through the woods. It’s so invigorating.”
“Yeah, me too. It was great to get off by ourselves a little.” He stood close to her, savoring the odor of lilies coming to him from her hair. A hard morning’s ride, and she still smell like fresh flowers.
“People pestering you about the divorce?” she asked. Injun nuzzled her jacket, in search of a treat.
“Sure. The Rudolphs are running a full-fledged smear campaign. But, it’s all bark and no bite. Everybody who knows Toni knows Toni. They take it for what it’s worth, but they still want all the nasty lowdown.”
“Did she really threaten to kill you?”
“Yeah, both she and her brother. Just bags of wind. Despite her ravings, the attorneys will settle quietly, and out of court. Harrington Rudolph isn’t about to let his spoiled brat sully their name in public.
“How about you?” he asked. “Keith giving you any trouble?”
She nodded as she finished feeding the big red horse a carrot.
“Jeez! He didn’t even need a phone for me to hear his screaming from Louisiana after McNeely delivered the divorce petition. Lots of blustering, then begging, and all kinds of promises he’d never keep. Under everything, I could tell he doesn’t really give a shit about me. He just wants to keep his hands on the trust money. That may be all he ever wanted.”
“So, what’s the outcome?”
“Same as you, my darling. I’ve got all the dirty deeds recorded. He can’t afford for it to become public. An out of court settlement.”
“Will he get anything.”
“Not a penny from me or the trusts, but he won’t have to pay child support. He can drown his misery in his green-eyed mistress. You ought to see her. What a cold, arrogant beauty.”
“So, he’s not giving you any real problems. That’s good.”
A groom had come from the stables and gathered the bridles of both horses, leading them back toward the stalls.
“Actually, I’m getting more flak from his brother, Larry. Keeps calling me, asking me to be ‘reasonable,’ whatever that is.”
“Ha!” Craig shook his head. “Regular brother acts.”
“Huh?” They watched the two horses disappear into the shadowed maw of the big white barn.
“Oh, nothing. Just that Toni’s brother, Brad, has been really threatening. Just a big brother, little sister thing, I guess.”
“Think it’s serious?”
“Nah. Just macho posturing for Toni’s benefit. He’s always struck me as a loudmouthed bag of wind.” No need for her to know how really dangerous Brad had sounded.
“What a mess,” she said.
“All worthwhile, knowing you’re here.”
“Me, too.”
She slipped her arms around his waist, her gray eyes shining. Cupping her chin, he pulled her face gently to him. They kissed with a soft intensity, tongues languorously fencing, an act of pure love much more that passion. Parting slightly, he stroked back a few loose strands of her coppery hair.
“Want some lunch?” he asked.
“You bet, I’m starved.”
Arm in arm, they strolled toward the clubhouse. Only their stomachs were empty.
Their hearts were surfeit to the point of bursting.
They sat in the third floor, glass-walled restaurant. Their table provided full view of the entire facility, and the woods beyond.
Absently she stirred her coffee. Craig grinned at her.
“A quarter for your thoughts. I’m paying inflation wages.”
She chuckled, glancing up, her face glowing.
“Just how happy I am. Like I’ve finally found what I’ve searched for all my life. You fill me with joy.”
“Me, too. It’s like I’ve loved you forever. It’s just so comfortable.”
She shivered slightly. How strange for him to say that.
“But, enough of this gushy talk,” he said, laughing. “You still plan on shopping for a new saddle this afternoon.”
“Yep, but I think I’ll shower and change. I brought fresh clothing.”
“Sounds good. I need one, too, but I didn’t plan as well as you. How about we go up to my new apartment? We can shower and dress there, and there’s a couple of tack stores near-by.”
“Sounds good.” She leaned back, stretching. Watching her, his heart did back flips. He signed the check, adding a 20% tip.
“Great. I’m ready whenever you are.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
“That bastard! Who the Hell does he think he is?” Toni prowled around Brad’s family room, a caged leopard looking for fresh meat.
“No one walks away from Toni Rudolph. No one!” Her sapphire eyes shone with an intensity Brad had never seen.
“How’r ya gonna stop him, sis? That dick’s got a book two-inches thick on you. Photos, video, audio tapes… he musta planted mics and cameras somehow. You shoulda been more careful.”
“Fuck that.” She whirled on him, her balled fists jammed against her sides, arms akimbo. He perched on the edge of a large overstuffed chair, enthralled by her intensity.
“You’d just let that bastard screw me over like this?”
“What d’ya want me to do.” He shrugged, arms out, palms raised. “Kill the son-of-a-bitch?”
“That’d be a start. And his redheaded whore, while you’re at it.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Brad stood, taking her hands to calm her. She pulled away and started circling again.
“I don’t know, but I’ve gotta do something. How’ll it look if the most desirable girl on the North Shore gets dumped by that piece of trash?” She studied her linebacker-built brother. He’d do anything she wanted, but would he draw the line at murder?
“You know, he’s been playing me for the fool all these years.” She pushed Brad onto the sofa, settling next to him.
“What? How? I don’t think he ever cheated… ”
“He lied to me, sweetie.” She inched closer, one thigh against his, her hand on his neck, the thumb stroking his cheek.
“He lied to all of us. I got my own detective. D’ya know he’s a fucking Jew?”
“What!” He cradled her other hand in his. “How is that possible? He… ”
“It’s true. Changed his name. Had his nose done. Lied to us, lied to his fraternity. Lied to everyone. Just so he could get close to me and our money. His dad’s a fucking New York cab driver. Transportation business, my ass!"
Brad sat, stunned, not grasping the reality that everything Craig did happened well before he met Toni.
“That fucking kike, sticking that unclean thing in you. I aughta… ”
“What, baby?” Toni crawled into his lap, both arms around his neck, faces inches apart.
“Would you do it?” She kissed his ear, her lips grazing his cheek, then his eye.
“Would you kill him for defiling your little, defenseless sister?” Her lips found his, her serpent’s tongue fencing lightly with his, her bosom teasing his chest.
“I’d never let anyone hurt you, baby.” His voice a horse whisper. “I love you too much.” His arms tightened around her as the kiss heated up, and a hardness grew in his groin.
“Yes, my hero, yes! Love me Brad. Love me and protect me. My handsome hero.”
Somehow they were stretched out on the sofa, clothes coming off, as he lavished years of pent up passion on the most beautiful, desirable woman he’d ever known, not seeing her smug smile as he entered her.
He’ll do anything I want, now. Anything! Even murder.
She released herself to her own raging passion, finally slaking so many years of lust for this one man always denied to her… the perfect lover.
Now all she had to do was think of a plan. Craig and his lover didn’t have a chance.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
Craig dropped on the edge of his new queen-size bed, flipping through the last month’s sales report. Shipments were up at record levels, as were profits. Upscale mail order was doing very well, even in a less than booming economy.
He glanced at the bathroom door as the shower turn off. She’d be dressed soon, and it would be his turn. It was cool during their ride, and he hadn’t worked up much of a sweat, but he was looking forward to the shower. He didn’t feel fresh, but mostly, it was the thought of being exactly where she had just been that fired a warm glow in him.
His newly discovered love for Ashley filled him to the point of bursting, a dizzying experience he couldn’t begin to put to words. He was awash with peace and contentment, as if a long, frustrating search was finally completed. So different from life with Toni which had been a long and frustrating journey… to misery.
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