by Kelly Utt
I look around the room and it's filled with people. I can tell that I know them, even though I can't recognize them right now. I again feel like I could recognize at least some of them if I could look into their eyes. Ali isn't here. I'm not sure where she is. I'm not sure if she's joining the proceedings later, or if this is meant to happen without her.
I resolve to find out exactly why this particular memory is intruding upon my consciousness on this particular day. There must be a reason. Whatever it is, I want to get on with it because I need to get back to focusing on the present day and trying to find my family. I don't have time to spend on anything that isn’t important right now. Silently, in my mind, I ask myself why this memory is surfacing for me now.
My mind responds. Much like an important scene in a movie coming into sharp focus, my attention is drawn to the group of officials who have gathered to make decisions about me. I can see the table they're sitting at and I see their hands, their arms, and their shoulders. I can't see their faces, as if my subconscious mind is conflicted about whether it does or doesn't want me to look in their eyes. I want to remember though. Especially if I can learn something that will help me understand how this all ties into what's happening in my life right now. I want to know who these people are. After all, these are the people responsible for breaking up my family. That’s a big deal. Maybe, the very same people are somehow involved with the criminals who are after us in the here and now.
After what feels like a long while, my subconscious mind finally loosens the reins. I begin to see some faces. My focus shifts first to a man who seems to be in charge of the proceedings. He's older than my Greek self. Probably in his mid-forties, if I had to guess. The signs of age are showing on him. His once black hair is now salt and pepper with white mixed throughout. His hairline has receded and he's nearly bald on top. He has the look of a wise man with lines on his face from years of worry. I'm not sure what his position. He certainly seems to be in charge of this group.
I assume this man must be important to me and my story, so I force myself to look into his eyes. He looks up at me and suddenly I see. I recognize him. Oh, my God. It's Dr. Epstein.
I'm startled by this realization, especially because this man in front of me in my memory is Greek with olive skin and blue eyes. He looks much different from Dr. Epstein's modern-day African American body. But I can tell it's him. There's a soul recognition that seems to happen when I look people in the eyes. It's fascinating.
So, I knew Dr. Epstein before. Maybe I can tell him that he was there. Maybe he’ll allow himself to be hypnotized. And maybe he’ll remember our shared past life together. At least then he’d stop thinking I’m mentally ill and believe that what I’m telling him is true.
Wait. That means that Dr. Epstein was one of the people responsible for sending Ali out of our Greek city, leading to Ethan's death. I can feel my entire present-day body getting hot as I think about it. I'm beginning to get agitated now. And angry.
My focus quickly shifts to a woman on the far side of him in my memory. She’s short. She has dark hair is tied loosely on the back of her head. She, too, looks to be in her forties. And she, too, has lines on her face which look like they're a byproduct of years spent worrying. I look in her eyes and I immediately recognized her. It's Mom. My own mom from this life, Linette Hartmann, is sitting beside Dr. Epstein and across from me in Ancient Greece as the two of them decide to send my precious Ali and our child out of the city. I don't know how to make sense of this. Not at all.
I have so many questions. I want to know why they would choose to send Ali out of the city. I want to know what their positions were, exactly. And what their relationship was to each other. But the anger coursing through my modern-day body vaults me out of the memory and back to the present, against my will. My subconscious mind seems to be showing me only what I can handle. It seems to be giving me these memories in small doses, stringing me along with just enough so that I have time to process it and not get overwhelmed.
I open my eyes in the Tahoe kitchen and realize that I've leaned sideways onto the door frame. Liam, Dr. Epstein, and mom are all looking at me as if they're concerned about me. I have no idea what it looks like from the outside when I'm busy experiencing these memories. I think my eyes are closed the whole time. Maybe it looks like I am meditating or working to collect myself. At any rate, they've all noticed that something strange is going on and it seems like they want an explanation.
I'm overwhelmed. I don't know how to make sense of any of this. At least not right now, I don't. I never expected to see Dr. Epstein standing in the kitchen of our rental house here in Lake Tahoe putting his arm around my mom and saying he wants to help. Of course, I never expected my family to be missing in Lake Tahoe either. I’ve got to focus. Focus.
"I'm fine," I say.
"George, dear," Mom says as she moves towards me and places a hand on my forearm.
I jerk away. My feelings about her are confused right now. I felt so safe with her just a little while ago she held me in the bedroom. I felt so comforted. And I felt so touched that she actually got on a plane, spent the money, and came out here to support me. But then I find out she's dating Dr. Epstein. And now this ancient Greek memory intrudes upon my consciousness and I find out that she and Dr. Epstein were involved with breaking up my family in ancient times. I don't know how to feel about Mom right now. I tell myself to get it together.
"George, buddy," Liam says, turning towards me and placing both hands on my shoulders again.
"Alright," I say. "I'm alright, Liam."
I want out of here. And fast. I can't deal with all of this right now. I just need to find my family. I want to drive out route twelve and look through the woods near where Ali and Marjorie’s cell phones were last pinged. Surely, the F.B.I. has that information. Then, once my family is safe, maybe I’ll have a chance to process the rest.
Roddy walks into the kitchen and I don't think I've ever been happier to see him. Just as I suspected, he looks rough. I doubt he’s slept much, if at all.
"Roddy," I say. "You’re a sight for sore eyes. What do we do next?"
Roddy walks to the coffee machine. Someone made a pot of coffee this morning. Probably Liam. It’s strong. I can smell it from across the room. Roddy pulls a mug out of the cabinet and pours himself a cup.
"Drink some coffee with me, George," he says. “You’ve had a rough night."
“Do we have any physical description of the guy in the truck?” I ask.
“Not yet,” Roddy replies simply.
“How are you so calm right now?” I ask my father-in-law as I walk towards him and take a mug of my own out of the cabinet. “We need to get out there and look for them.”
“We will,” he says. “We are. Our people are working multiple angles. Let’s sit down. I’ll fill you in on everything you missed. More progress is happening than you think.”
11
Shaky Ground
It’s mid-morning by the time Roddy, Liam, and I are driving out to join the search party in the woods along route twelve. The sky is still fretful with rain as scattered thunderstorms linger in the area and temperatures drop below normal.
I think about my mother-in-law, my wife, and our sweet, innocent little boys. I hope they’re dry. And warm enough. I hope they’ve had something to eat and drink. Those little boys are so delicate. So precious. I shudder as I imagine what they might be suffering through.
I made it past the multiple interviews the F.B.I. insisted on over the past few hours. They asked me a slew of questions, most of which seemed irrelevant or redundant. Taye reassured me as best he could, claiming that the Bureau’s procedures do, in fact, usually work since they’re based on mountains of data and past experience. He claimed that the F.B.I. is a highly specialized and effective organization. He said I should trust them to do everything in their power to bring my family home safely. I want to believe him.
I showered quickly and put on some decent clothes before we
left the rental house. Liam told me that people would take me more seriously if I was clean and wearing something other than day-old swim trunks and sandals. He reminded me that the husband is usually the first suspect when a woman disappears and that there would be media attention focused on my family. It hurt to hear it, but I know he’s right. I told him I thought it might actually be better to be wearing day-old swim trunks because it would show that my only concern is finding my family. Liam convinced me otherwise though, saying this is a marathon, not a sprint, and that I need to do the basics to keep myself stable and presentable. I didn’t ask whether or not word got out about my outburst in Phil’s office.
“Hey, Liam?” I say over my shoulder to my uncle who is riding in the backseat of the SUV that Taye and Duke rented. Roddy is driving again.
“Yeah, buddy,” he answers. “What is it?”
“Do you think Dad and John Wendell are together?” I ask. “You know, up there. Or wherever they are. Grandma, too. Do you think they know what’s happening?”
I want to tell Liam and Roddy about my shared dream. And about my memories of Greece. It feels like it’s time. I decide to gauge their level of receptiveness by easing in slowly.
“I don’t know,” Liam answers. “Who knows about these things?”
“But what do you think?” I ask, insistently.
“I think you should be asking Marjorie about this,” Roddy says quietly.
It’s the first time I’ve heard him say his wife’s name since we found out she was missing.
“I know,” I say. A warm rush moves up my neck and around my throat, feeling like it might strangle the very life out of me. “But since she’s not here to ask right now, I’m asking you two. I’m serious. Do you think my dad and my grandfather know what’s happening?”
“You’re more into that stuff than me,” Liam says. “You believed Marjorie’s stories about living a past life in the old west, right?”
“I think so, yeah,” I say. “I can’t think of any reason why I shouldn’t.”
“Well, there you go,” Liam says.
I fidget in my seat absentmindedly, gathering the courage to tell them some of what’s on my mind.
“I… I haven’t told anyone this,” I begin. “But when John Wendell died, I saw something.”
Liam turns around half-way in his seat to look at me while Roddy makes eye contact in the rear-view mirror.
“Like what?” Liam asks.
I pause for a moment. I’m nervous.
“Go on,” Roddy says.
“Like, at the moment he died,” I say. “I had a sense of his spirit almost bursting out of his body, from his chest and throat area. It was like a punt. Or like having the wind knocked out of you. Then, his spirit seemed to be hovering in a ball a couple of feet above his body, right at the mid-section.”
“Huh,” Liam says, raising his eyebrows and turning the corners of his mouth down as he considers the idea.
Roddy doesn’t react.
“And then,” I continue. “That’s when I saw something.”
“Yeah?” Liam asks.
“Get on with it, George,” Roddy interjects. “We’ll be at the search and rescue site soon. If you have something to say, spit it out.”
I like hearing the word rescue in the site’s description.
“Okay, okay,” I say. “I saw John Wendell smiling. In the moment after he died. I could still see the real scene in the hospice house in front of my eyes, but it was like an entirely new layer of vision opened up and I could see another scene as well. It was kind of like what I’ve heard people talk about when they describe a third eye. At least, I think so.”
“Was it just his face, smiling?” Liam asks.
“Pretty much,” I reply. “I saw John Wendell’s back as if he was walking away. And I guess I saw a scene around the edges. It was fuzzy but bright. I had an impression of someone standing off in the distance waiting for him. It seemed like where he was headed. He turned around to look over one shoulder, which is when he smiled really big at me. He looked relaxed and genuinely happy.”
“That’s very nice, George,” Liam says.
“I thought so,” I reply. “It gave me comfort to think he was at peace and in a better place. Wherever that might be. It made me feel like he was going to be okay.”
“I can understand that,” my uncle affirms.
“And I hope Dad is in a good place, too,” I add. “Which is why I wonder if they’re together with Grandma and other loved ones who went before them.”
“Like Grandad and Grandmother Marks,” Liam says, looking a little nostalgic. “And Benny.”
“Exactly,” I say. “I can’t help but wonder about that kind of thing sometimes.”
Liam shifts in his seat as if he’s collecting himself.
“But we can’t prove any of it,” he says. “So we don’t know anything for sure, really.”
I wish my uncle was more open to things he can’t prove. I appreciate his engineering mind and practical sensibilities, but I want him to stretch with me in considering deeper questions. I need him to.
“I hear you, Liam,” I reply. “Maybe it’s alright if we don’t know for sure. I’m okay with the uncertainty. But each of us is entitled to forming our own best guesses about life and the Universe, right? I mean, we can say we don’t know for sure while still holding opinions.”
“Well, yeah, I suppose so,” he says.
“When I start putting pieces together, there’s quite a case for believing in something more,” I say. “There was the dream about Dad where it felt like I really communicated with him. Then there was Ethan’s scream that no one else heard the night of the break-in, which allowed us to get to him in time. And then there were Marjorie’s past life memories. And Ethan’s.”
"Nephew," Liam begins. "What has you thinking about all of this right now? Shouldn’t you be focused on the search we have ahead of us?”
"Of course I'm focused on that," I say. "It's my top, number one priority."
"What am I missing?" Liam asks.
Roddy glances at me again through the rearview mirror. He's more open to all of this than Liam is. That became clear when we all discussed together in January. He looks curious now like he wants to know what I'm getting at.
"Roddy?" I ask.
"Yeah?" he says. “What are you trying to tell us, George?
"Remember the bad dream Ethan had before we flew out here the other day?" I ask.
"What?" Liam asks. "What dream?"
"I do," Roddy replies.
"I haven't had a chance to tell you, Liam," I say. "Roddy happened to be upstairs while we were getting the boys ready to leave, so he was there when Ethan told me. He told both of us."
Roddy squints his eyes as he thinks. Maybe he forgot about Ethan's dream. And my dream. Maybe he's putting the pieces together now. I hope so.
"It was simple but scary," I continue. "Ethan said he had a dream where he was in the woods near a road and he heard me calling for Ali while looking for her. He said he was calling out to me, but that I didn't hear him. He was pretty shaken up."
"That's interesting," Liam says. "Especially now."
"I know," I say. "And that's not even the most uncanny part."
"Tell him," Roddy says, motioning towards Liam.
I'd be thrilled if Roddy believed there was something to this. I would be surprised, but thrilled. I need hope right now. I need a reason to hope that we’ll find my family safe and sound.
"Yeah," I say. "It’s kind of freaky. On Saturday night, I had a similar dream myself. I told Marjorie and Ali about it Sunday morning. In my dream, I was on a road in the woods frantically searching for Ali. I was calling her name and was desperate to find her. I didn't know why I was searching for her or what had happened, but I could feel the urgency. I was distressed. And I thought I could hear Ethan's voice calling my name, but I couldn't see him and didn't know where he was."
"Wow!" Liam says exclaims. "That's intense, Georg
e."
"I know," I say. "For me to have that dream Saturday night and then for Ethan to have a companion dream the very next night seems like more than a coincidence.”
“Might he have heard you telling Marjorie and Ali about it?” Liam asks.
“I don’t think so,” I say. “We were in our bedroom and the door was closed. Ali was nursing little Will and Marjorie stopped in to talk. It was just the four of us.”
“Ethan was with me,” Roddy adds. “He didn’t hear George talking. I can promise you that.”
The three of us ride along quietly, processing. I don’t want to overwhelm them with too much information at once. I know how all of this sounds.
“I told Roddy,” I say to my uncle.
I’m eager to document the timeline of my discoveries. I don’t want my family members thinking I’m crazy like Dr. Epstein apparently does. I continue to explain, slowly.
“When I heard Ethan describe his dream, it made me pretty upset. But there wasn’t enough time before we left for the airport to talk to anybody about it. Then we were traveling, then settling in, and then...”
“Yeah, when George told me about his concerns, I basically told him to suck it up,” Roddy says with a chuckle. It’s good to hear Roddy chuckle, even if only a little.
“I see,” Liam says, smiling.
“Glad you guys think this is funny,” I say. I’m sure I sound irritated, but in reality, I’m just relieved to be talking about it. Besides, it helps me to pretend things aren’t quite as bad as they seem right now.
“So, let me get this straight,” Liam says, turning around further in his seat to look me square in the face. “You think that your dream and Ethan’s dream might have been real? Like some kind of preview of what is really going to happen? Today, right?”