by Janet Rebhan
“Oh really? I was under the impression there was no way to incarnate only once. That the lessons were too involved to face all the challenges in only one lifetime.”
“Well, that’s just an old wives’ tale,” Aurora said. “Spirit is free to venture anywhere and everywhere. Lack of imagination is really the only thing that can hold anyone back. It’s just that once people start to bond together, they like to keep playing the game until they have exhausted themselves and so move on to more challenging territory.”
“Okay, so back to Caroline and Rachael. What does this Akashic Record story tell us?”
“I think it tells us there have been no accidents. That everything so far is in divine and perfect order.”
“So you believe the inadvertent abortion was all a part of some bigger plan?”
“Perhaps,” Aurora said. “If the current wrong can be righted, they stand to have a pretty happy existence afterward from the looks of things.”
“But what about Mary Anne, the child’s biological mother? Things didn’t exactly end well for her.”
“You never know, Thor. Perhaps it was Mary Anne’s karma to pay back a debt in this life. There is always the possibility, too, that Mary Anne’s soul is a sainted one, and she willingly played this role as a sacrifice of love to help all others in her soul group who benefit in the overall scenario. A bit part in the play, if you will, albeit a very important role.”
“And what about Rachael? You’re saying perhaps she intended for all this to happen? She intended to be lost once she realized she could not be born to Caroline?”
“I’m saying it’s a possibility she chose to take that chance. Her highest self may have wanted that kind of challenge.”
“Wow, that’s an awesome thought,” Thor said.
“And now, back to the situation at hand,” Aurora said. “I think our girl Caroline is about to make her debut.”
Vito Gamboa watched from behind the wheel of Sparky’s car as Benjamin Bechtel exited the pharmacy and crossed the parking lot toward his silver Audi sports coup. He had waited patiently for two months now, lying low and staying out of trouble. Finally, it had come down to this night, the night he would take back his baby girl and flee the country before the cops even knew anything was out of the ordinary. He had been stalking Bennie now for weeks, had witnessed his move to his mother’s garage in Winnetka, and had memorized Bennie’s schedule, his habits, and his drug exchanges. In the beginning, he wanted to extort Bennie only to find out more about the foster care system from Bennie’s mother. But as fate would have it—and fate was definitely on his side now—his baby girl was one of the five foster kids kept by Bennie’s mom. And this, Vito had just stumbled upon—a complete accident. The gods were definitely smiling on him now.
It happened the second week of his surveillance. He parked in the dark alleyway behind the property after Bennie had pulled into the back driveway and shut the gate behind him. Vito peered over the back fence to see Bennie’s mom exit the house to greet her son with a plate of cookies. She held a baby girl Rachael’s age on her hip. After Bennie thanked her and retreated to his garage apartment, a young girl around the age of ten or so came skipping out the back door and took the baby from Bennie’s mom. “Rachael,” she had shouted happily, “come to Jesse. Come to Jesse, Rachael honey boo boo.” Damn if that didn’t cause Vito’s toes to curl. Damn if he wasn’t sure now he was going to get exactly what he had coming to him.
Of course, he had to make sure this Rachael was his Rachael, but that didn’t take long. One up-close look at her, and he would know. This he did the day she played alone in her playpen in the backyard. Bennie’s mother had gone inside to answer the telephone, and Vito let himself in through the back gate. He reasoned if he got caught, he would just run. There would be no way that old lady could ever catch him. He wasn’t ready to leave with Rachael just yet. He had to make some necessary plans first: arrange for transportation, a place to live in Portugal, a way to smuggle the kid over the border. As it turned out, there was no question this was his Rachael. She had his olive complexion and her mother’s round saucer eyes, albeit brown instead of blue.
After that, Vito returned to the house again and again to watch his daughter as she played in the backyard. He would get to know her so when he finally took her, he would be more comfortable with her schedule. He paid attention to when she ate and when she slept. He scoured the trash cans to find out the kind of baby food and formula she ate. He peered through the windows once he had the cover of darkness. He was familiar with the entire family’s comings and goings. He knew all their schedules: when they went to work or school, when they came home, when they got up in the morning, when they went to bed in the evening. Through all this, he had been as stealthy as a panther. And now, he was ready to pounce. It was time. Tonight was the night he would take back what belonged to him.
If it hadn’t been for the last-minute invitation from Jena to meet her at the country club for a late-afternoon lunch, Caroline probably wouldn’t have even left the house at all that day. The dream she’d had the night before had left her feeling exhausted and lethargic. It was Saturday again, and Jake had left early to play eighteen holes of golf with his regular group: some old friends, some work associates. He had left her a note by the coffeemaker that read “Sin not in” with a sad face and a “PS: will bring some back on the way home.”
On her way to the club, she replayed the dream again and again in her mind. What could it mean? She wasn’t sure if it was symbolic or real. If it was real, then she and Rachael had been together before. She had once read a book on dream interpretation. It said the most important thing about dreams was how they made you feel, not what actually happened in the dream. Dreams were largely symbolic, and you usually couldn’t take them literally. But it’s very hard to know what the symbols mean for you. Therefore, you should try to remember how the dream made you feel in order to get to the real meaning.
All Caroline knew was her dream made her feel scared and anxious. She felt Rachael was in danger, but she didn’t know what she could possibly do about it. Only after she noticed the same older woman she had seen before walk into the bar at the country club and sit down did Caroline know what she had to do next.
Once she and Jena had finished their meals, Caroline said goodbye to Jena then gave the valet attendant her ticket. She got in her car and exited the front gate next to the guard shack. She assumed this would be the one the woman would exit because the other gate fed only into local neighborhoods. The east gate was the one everyone exited if they were going to get back on the freeway. She sensed this woman did not live in the area. She had already put it together that the woman worked for her husband’s former work associate, whom she had run into on her last visit to the country club, the visit when she had heard the woman say she would have killed Hitler too. She had eavesdropped on Caroline’s conversation with Jena. Something about this woman—especially seeing her again today—caused Caroline to want to know more.
When she saw the green Prius, the tingling at the back of Caroline’s head was intense. There had been a green Prius in her dream. As it drove by, she confirmed it was the same woman in the car she’d seen in the bar. Caroline pulled in behind the Prius, not even trying to keep her distance. She followed her to the bank and then to the pharmacy. When she stopped at the grocery store, Caroline decided to go back home. She was being silly. This woman could be in the store for hours. Yet as she started her car to leave, she noticed the woman walking back to the car. She had walked all the way up to the doors of the market when she stopped, began digging around in her purse, turned with an irritated expression on her face, and got back into her car. So Caroline continued to follow her all the way to Winnetka, down a lovely tree-lined street with modest homes all the way up to the little yellow house with the huge oak tree and the large plate glass window in front.
Caroline felt the chill now throughout her body. Everything she had seen in her dream had manifested before h
er: the car, the house, the tree, and the window. She was certain now this woman was somehow connected. She had been led to her by the dream. She began to shake as if she were cold, but she knew it was not the cold, but fear. The dream had not been a dream at all. It had been a premonition.
The setting sun turned the sky a dark umber hue, and Caroline watched the street lights flicker on one at a time. She sat in her car and watched the woman gather her things before entering the front door of her house. Shortly afterward, a teenage girl who looked around the age of fourteen left through the front door, schoolbooks in tow, crossed the lawn, and entered the neighbor’s house. Probably the babysitter.
A text from her husband—Sin is back in!—seemed so very trifling at this moment. She texted back a thumbs-up emoji and home soon, turned her phone on vibrate, and slipped it in her coat pocket. Then she reached into the glove compartment for her pepper spray and slid it into her other coat pocket, got out of her car, and locked it. Crossing the street, she saw the woman open the front door and stand still, her hands at her sides. Caroline paused momentarily, then continued walking forward, hands in her coat pockets, resolute with sudden and explicit determination. The woman remained in the doorway, watching, waiting, not smiling. When Caroline reached the front doorstep, the woman scrutinized her from head to toe, then held out her hand and said, “My name is Marge. I’ve been expecting you. Would you like to come in?”
Benjamin Bechtel was a careful and courteous driver, but he was not a particularly wary one. In spite of Vito’s lack of skill in tailing someone, Bennie was completely clueless he was being followed home. Instead of regularly keeping an eye out for the unexpected, he stayed totally in his head as he left the pharmacy. His partner, Langdon, had called him immature and irresponsible. Bennie had vehemently disagreed. Careless maybe. Sloppy even. Impatient to be sure. But immature? Irresponsible? I beg to differ. He had been holding down the pharmacy now for a solid decade. Had always paid his bills on time; he regularly saved twenty-five percent of his gross income right off the top before he ever even saw it. These clearly were not the habits of an immature and irresponsible man.
He turned his car stereo on and played their favorite song as tears fell. Michael Bublé crooned, “You’re a falling star, you’re the getaway car, you’re the line in the sand when I go too far.” He opened his sunroof to let in the fresh night air. He liked it when the streetlights shone overhead. He was going to allow himself to have a good old-fashioned sob session once he got home. He was entitled.
When he was almost to Gresham Street, he made a right turn into the alley that traversed the back of his mom’s little yellow house. Although the garage had been remodeled into an apartment, there was still room for him to park his car in the back driveway. The only downside was he had to get out of his car and open the large double gate to do so. Why they hadn’t installed an electronic gate was beyond him. Bennie had always thought if you’re going to do something, do it right. He sighed heavily as he pulled his Audi over to the side of the alley and got out of his car. He left the headlights on and the car door ajar as usual, and over the beat of the bass from his speakers, he heard the annoying ding-ding-ding-ding-ding-ding informing him the keys were still in the ignition. “And in this crazy life, and through these crazy times, it’s you, it’s you—”
He reached with his right hand inside the gate to open it, standing a little on his toes to do so. He heard the sound before he felt the pain: a sharp click-snap near his right ear and then the cold of hard steel pressed solidly into the nape of his neck, followed by a quick twist of his left arm behind the small of his back that made him wince before it rendered him defenseless.
“Do exactly as I say, and I won’t hurt you any more than this,” the voice said. It was male, Hispanic accent. His breath whiffed of alcohol, causing Bennie to swallow hard when he felt its humid warmth at the base of his hairline. “Try to fight me, and I won’t think twice to blow your fool head off.”
The cell phone in Caroline’s coat pocket vibrated furiously as Jake repeatedly phoned his wife to find out when she would be home. But her white trench coat hung by the door on a decorative coat rack Marge had recently installed just inside the foyer, although Caroline had not removed it right away.
She and Marge had talked first, and at length. Marge served Caroline a cup of herbal tea and listened intently as Caroline attempted to explain why she felt compelled to follow Marge home. She told her about the dream she’d had, the entire story of how Rachael had come into her life. Marge told Caroline she suspected the day she had overheard Caroline’s conversation with her best friend at the country club that she was the same woman from her friend’s description.
Marge explained how her friend Ragna had a way of prying information out of people, and she had managed to get Detective Coffey to tell her what had become of the baby, seeing as how she had been instrumental in helping him fill in so many blanks about the case. So when Marge had overheard Caroline and Jena talking that day, she intuited Caroline was the woman who had come upon the accident that night and taken the baby home with her. But Marge didn’t know quite what to do with the information until she’d had a recent dream of her own.
“I dreamed of a beautiful woman in a white trench coat, cinched around her waist. She was walking toward me from a distance, her hands in her pockets. At first it scared me. The woman seemed angry. Yet the closer she got to me, the more I sensed she needed my help. She wasn’t angry at all. She was intensely focused. I knew the woman in the dream was the same woman I had seen that day in the country club bar, the same one I had overheard say, given the opportunity, she would have killed Hitler.
“After that, I jumped at the chance to meet my boss at the country club to notarize documents for him the next time he asked me. He must have wondered why I’d had such a change of heart. I didn’t even ask for mileage.” Marge laughed. “I knew one day I would see you again. I didn’t know what I was going to say to you. And I definitely didn’t expect you would see me first,” Marge said. “I didn’t notice you following me today until I saw you in the parking lot of the grocery store. I noticed you as I was walking back to my car after I realized I’d left my grocery list and my coupons at home. Well, at least I thought it was you. I knew it was you once you followed me home, and I saw you get out of your car. When you walked toward me in your trench coat, hands in your pockets like that, my dream came rushing back to me.”
“It’s so interesting how each of us feels lead by our dreams and intuitions,” Caroline said. “There was a time when I didn’t give much thought to them. But lately, they have been so incredibly accurate.”
“I don’t mind if you want to come and visit Rachael. Obviously, I don’t have any control over the courts. Personally, I think if you are patient, things will work out in your favor. Why wouldn’t they grant your adoption request?”
“Well, for one thing, there is a waiting list. I would have to convince a judge that I should be placed at the top of that list. But that’s not really what I’m worried about,” Caroline said. “I feel her life is in danger until her father is in police custody. I do feel much better having met you. You seem like a very caring person who is very much in charge of her brood of kids.” Caroline laughed.
“Yeah, well, the older ones do a lot for themselves. And Freddie is a great help. Together we manage,” Marge said.
“By the way, where are all the kids?” Caroline asked. “It’s getting late. Shouldn’t they be home by now?”
“Oh, Freddie takes them out for pizza on Saturday nights, then to the movies afterward. All except for the baby. She’s been napping, but she should be up by now. I should go check on her.” Marge excused herself and returned a few moments later with Rachael perched on her hip. “Such a good baby,” Marge said. “She was awake, just lying there in her crib, cooing at her mobile. I have to say, she is the easiest, sweetest baby I’ve ever kept. Would you like to hold her? Don’t worry, I changed her; she’s clean and dry.”
Caroline reached out her arms for Rachael, and Marge placed her gently in Caroline’s lap. Rachael looked from one woman to the other, then smiled and shouted, “Ga!” clapping her hands in excitement.
“She’ll be up late tonight.” Marge laughed.
Caroline sensed such a fierce protectiveness toward Rachael that it scared her. For a brief moment, she had the strongest urge to run with her and never return. But her logic won. She did find herself asking Marge a very unusual question though. “How would you feel if I took her home with me just for one night? No one would ever have to be the wiser.” She felt ashamed of herself almost as soon as she asked it, but at the same time she sensed a huge release as though she no longer had to check her emotions at the door. Like her, Marge was a woman with strong maternal instincts. She wouldn’t judge Caroline harshly even if she didn’t agree with her.
“You know I can’t do that,” Marge said. “But like I said, you are welcome to come here and visit her anytime. Just call me, and we’ll work it out.”
Rachael touched Caroline’s mouth with her fingers, and Caroline’s eyes filled with tears. She picked Rachael up and hugged her to herself. She looked at Marge, who smiled compassionately back at her. Then she looked over Marge’s shoulder and noticed something move beyond Marge, beyond the kitchen table, out in the darkness of the backyard in the yellow haze of the porch light on the detached garage. Then the light went out altogether.
“In my dream,” Caroline said softly, almost in a whisper as she remembered, “I saw a detached garage with a red door and a yellow porch light.”
“Wow, that’s totally accurate, except the door is really more of a deep orange color. Wasn’t my idea; it was my last tenant’s. I let her paint it whatever color she wanted.”
“In my dream it seemed significant,” Caroline said softly, remembering.
