by Carlyn Cade
“And how’s Stacia Saunders doing in Audra Parker’s role?”
“They couldn’t be closer in resembling each other, and their acting abilities mesh perfectly. Sometimes I have difficulty believing Stacia isn’t Audra.”
“There were many rumors floating around after the original London Affair was filmed. Can you tell us if any of the rumors circulating at the time of Audra and Mark Bennett’s deaths were true?”
Farrell shifted in his seat. “I’d have to know what specific rumors you’d be referring to, and I don’t think we have time for that.”
“Can you at least comment on the report Mark kept a journal, which was found with his body?”
“That much is true. I was one of the few who saw it and read it.”
“And where’s the journal today?”
“Until recently, it was in the studio’s vault. Back then, it became their property because Mark left no family, and they requested it be returned to them after the investigation. Now, I understand it was sold.”
“I’ll bet the sale of it brought in some hefty numbers.”
“From time to time, the studio received offers to purchase it, so I don’t know why they waited until now to sell it.”
“One last question, Farrell. Do you think this remake of London Affair is going to be a hit or a miss?”
“Definitely a hit. Hollywood and its fans have always loved innovative ideas, and this is one of the best I’ve seen in a long time.”
“It seems Hollywood’s latest game craze is matching today’s stars with yesterday’s and their movies. And all you listeners out there, if you want to play along, log onto our website and give us your ideas. We promise to let you know what stars and what movies get suggested the most.”
Stacia found Farrell’s interview fascinating. She’d never heard him talk so lucid for such a long length of time. She was also surprised he’d said nice things about her. Hal was right. He sure was a completely different person now that he stayed sober. She hoped, for his sake, he remained that way. A fall off the wagon would do more than bruise the credibility he’d started to build up again.
♥♥
When Stacia went to the studio the next day, she sought out Farrell on her first break between scenes. She found him sitting on his stool in the corner as usual, his head down, studying a script.
“May I talk to you, Farrell?” Stacia asked.
He glanced up at her and jumped, almost as if he’d seen a ghost. “Oh my God!”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Farrell shook his head. “I was reading the scene you just finished. I must have been concentrating too hard on it, because when I saw you dressed in that costume, I thought you were Audra.”
“Sometimes I feel like her too,” Stacia said softly, and paused for a moment before adding, “The reason I came to talk to you was I wanted to thank you for the nice things you said about me on ET last night.”
“I meant them. You’re doing a fine job.” He chuckled. “Maybe too good. See what happened just now?”
Stacia smiled.
“There’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you, Stacia. I wanted to apologize for my behavior the evening of Caviar-On-Ice.”
“That’s okay.”
“No. No, it isn’t. I go to AA now, and according to the twelve-step program, I need to apologize to people I hurt because of my drinking.”
“I’m just happy to see you doing so well.”
“After sixty years of being an alcoholic, I am too. When Nathan and Arthur offered me this job, in one of my sober moments, I decided I owed it to Audra’s memory to take it and try to help make London Affair a success.”
“From what I hear, your input has been invaluable.”
“I appreciate you saying that.”
“Do you have any suggestions on how I can play Victoria better?”
“You don’t need my advice. Keep on doing whatever it is you’re doing the same way.”
“I’ll try.” She started to walk away, then turned and faced him once more. “And, Farrell, by the way, I enjoyed our little chat just now.”
“As did I. Audra and I used to have good talks.” He started to stare into space.
A déjà vu´ feeling flashed through Stacia. As quickly as it came, it left. She trembled from its power. Why in that brief instant did it feel as if the past had touched the present, making Farrell Fontaine seem so familiar to her?
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
His head throbbed and his stomach ached. His hand cramped when he tried to write, but he forged on. He saw death dressed in a black sheet, like a Halloween ghost, dancing with glee in front of him, no matter which direction he turned his head.
He heard death laugh and wondered if the ghoulish creature always sounded so joyful as he chained his latest victim to a lifeless eternal pit.
And who was death’s next victim going to be? Blurred faces drifted by him in answer to his question until one blob began to turn into a definitive shape. Closer and closer it floated toward him.
He stared at the vision, mesmerized by the metamorphosis he was viewing. Suddenly, he recognized the face. “Oh my god,” he exclaimed. “It’s...”
And Clay woke up. As he got out of bed, he tried to remember whose face he had seen in his nightmare. But it was hopeless. The face eluded his grasp in reality as the image had in his dream.
He began to slowly pace the floor to try to calm down his racing heartbeat. He had to stop these nightmares and his fixation on death. They were eating him up, consuming him at a rate that sped faster than his mind could escape them.
And he could feel himself drawing away from Stacia and didn’t know how to stop the pulling force. Was she death’s target? He hoped not. Not her. Let it be me instead, he begged the unknown powers that be. He was shocked he could even think of the possibility of losing her.
Was he going to die? If he knew that, he’d break off with her right now to spare her future grief. Maybe he should simply walk away from her...at least until he figured out how to stop his death dreams.
Perhaps she’d been right, and they couldn’t be together or ever marry. Was it possible these nightmares were destiny’s way of telling him to let her go? But how could he? He loved her so much.
His brain frantically sorted out plan after plan to solve his dilemma, and ended up discarding them all. Then he thought of a name...Josie. Of course, Josie would be able to help him make sense of his dreams and rid him of death’s ghost.
But how could he call her? He couldn’t drag her into the middle of his nightmares. Anyway, Stacia might find out what was happening to him, and no matter how bad his dreams were, she was the last person he wanted to know about them at the present time. Not when she was still recovering from the stalking.
He thought again about Josie. What had she said? Meditation. According to her, it was a magic potion – a weapon stronger than the atom bomb, he guessed. He shivered and pulled up his covers. He stared into the dark. Whose face had he seen in his dream? Why couldn’t he remember, or would the loss be so deep, so painful, that his subconscious prevented his mind from remembering what would eventually be reality?
♥♥
“Is something wrong?” Stacia asked Clay the next time he telephoned her.
“Why would you think that?”
“When I first came home, you seemed happy. Now, you act...I guess the right word is...depressed. What’s going on? Are you upset because I’d rather you not come to California right now?”
“Of course not,” he replied. “If you think anything’s wrong, chalk it up to my missing you.”
“That’s not the reason,” she said. “And you know it as well as I do. Now you’re the one building up a brick wall I can’t tear down.”
No way could he tell her about his death dream. She’d said she was in a gray area she wasn’t comfortable sharing with him. Well, he was in a black one – a self-destructing area he had to shield her from sharing a
lso. “How’s London Affair coming?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Great. We seem to be pretty much on schedule after my little...um…vacation.”
“Some vacation.” He shuddered as he thought of how close he’d come to losing her to death. Now, if his nightmares were based on the truth of the future, and if that was her face in his dream, he stood to lose her all over again. He understood at last how she believed she had the power to see into the future.
“Clay, are you still there?”
“Yes,” he said, the fear inside his gut fighting with his voice to strangle his words.
“It shouldn’t be too long before we can be together again,” Stacia said. “Maybe you should just come here now. That way, we could at least have a little time alone.”
“That wouldn’t be wise.” Now why did I say that? He’d rather see her and hold her and kiss her than breathe.
“Clay, please tell me what’s wrong,” she pleaded.
“Everything’s fine,” he lied. “I’ll give you another call in a few days.” He didn’t mean for his words to come out so sarcastically, they just did.
“Are you trying to get into a fight with me?” Stacia asked, interrupting him.
“It takes two,” he remarked, his sarcastic tone still ringing in his ears.
“Call me when you’re in a better mood,” she said.
“Now how did that happen?” Clay wondered out loud after Stacia had disconnected her phone. Maybe it was a good thing, he decided. If I’m going to be a dead guy, she won’t have –
His phone rang. One ring. Two. He ignored it. Three. Four. The call went to voice mail. He checked his calls and listened to Stacia’s message.
“Clay, I’m sorry,” Stacia’s voice said. “You’re feeling bad, and I wasn’t understanding.”
She sounded as if she was beginning to cry, but he was powerless to pick up the phone and reach back to her.
“Whatever’s wrong, I’m here to help you face it. We’ll get through it together, okay? Bye.”
That’s just it, Stacia. What I’m going through, we can’t face together. Dying you do all alone.
♥♥
Night after night, Clay’s dreams reoccurred until he was convinced he’d been experiencing a premonition that he, or perhaps someone else, was going to die. Now he understood what Stacia was going through. And he, like her, had to do something about it. He was dwelling on death, and it was disturbing him enough that he couldn’t focus on anything else. He remembered Josie and Stacia talking about the vortex energies of Sedona.
He ran a search on Sedona, meditation and psychic exploration on his computer. After he’d read everything he could find about the town, he decided it might be the oasis of help he needed.
He flew into the Phoenix airport the following day. Once there, he rented a car to begin his drive to Sedona. He wanted to remain an anonymous tourist, so he bypassed hiring a limo.
On the way there, he decided to forego the use of the air conditioner, letting the hot desert air roam through his car from the open windows. The air cleared his mind of the depressing thoughts that had nested there. Yes, this was the right decision to have made.
As he drove farther and farther on the Arizona freeway, he began to play the “What If?” game. What if he kept driving to California and Stacia? What if he knocked on her door and when she opened it, he took her in his arms and kissed her with all the passion and love he had stored inside him for her? What if he proposed to her?
Yeah, what if, Clay old man, his analytical mind challenged his imagination. Go ahead, play your little game, but you know the rules...and the answers. Stacia would explain the time wasn’t right for them. But would the time ever be right for the two of them? Maybe never in her mind. And perhaps, never in his also.
As he approached Sedona, his depression was replaced by a new feeling – one of a beginning and not an end. He could feel positive energy flowing through him. Could it be the energies of the vortexes Josie had said were located in Sedona were allowing him to return from the land of the living dead?
He found his hotel and settled in for the night after he’d gathered all the information the lobby held on the area. He spread the brochures over his bed and began to read.
The next morning he wandered the streets of Sedona, trying to find a good teacher for what he needed to learn. He stopped in several New Age stores and purchased some different CDs on meditation. The stores all offered maps of the vortexes in the area. He picked up a copy and discovered one located at the edge of town. He drove there, stuck one of his CDs in the car player, settled back and tried to draw the energy of the vortex inside him.
“Relax,” a female voice instructed, “and close your eyes.”
He did.
“Now wrap your body in white light to protect yourself inside and out,” she instructed. “Relax your toes...your feet...your ankles...” She continued naming body parts until she reached the top of his head. “You’re feeling completely relaxed. Picture yourself in a place where you’ve always felt safe. A place where nature is waiting to hold you in its womb.”
SwissDen’s waterfall came alive in his mind. It was his favorite place at home.
“Walk from your secure place and travel down a solitary path through a thick forest. Ahead of you there is a tunnel cut into a hillside. Walk closer. You are protected by your white wrapping. Don’t be afraid. Nothing can harm you. Keep going.”
He walked deeper into the forest. It was growing dark. How would he return before night settled around him?
“You’re approaching the tunnel now. Keep walking. Enter the tunnel. You see a lighted area at the other end. Go toward the light. Now step out into the brightness. You are in a green meadow bursting with wild flowers. Walk through the grasses and the flowers. In the distance you can see a log cabin. Keep going until you reach its door. Open it and go inside. You are in a past life now. What do you see?”
Clay saw a fireplace.
The fire in the fireplace was almost out. Its embers gave little warmth. Logs sat outside, but he was too cold to move – too weak to walk.
Where was Audra? Why didn’t she come for him?
Wait! Someone was walking toward him. In the fog of his mind, he could make out a shape coming nearer and nearer. At last she stood before him.
“Stacia,” he said, expecting her, yet surprised she was there. How gorgeous she was. How could he turn away from such beauty?
“No,” he said. “I want Audra. Where is she? You’re not even born yet.”
In the midst of the wavering puffs of wispy smoke, he heard a soft voice whisper, “I’m over here.”
He looked to his right. His mind was surely playing tricks on him. “No,” he corrected once more. “You’re not Audra, yet. I know you. You’re a café singer in London, and I remember the wishing well where we’d always meet. You don’t belong here. I loved you once. But this lifetime, what’s left of it at least, I need Audra.”
“Here I am, my love.” And she walked out of the mist and stood before him.
The three apparitions in front of him began to swirl together. Faster and faster they spun, one shape merging into another, as if they were melting together to form one person. Stacia became Audra became the singer. They kept spiraling together like a streaking whirlpool.
Finally, only one shape was left. His vision cleared and Audra stood alone. “It’s time, my love. I have come to take you with me.”
Slowly, he reached out and placed his hand in hers...
“You must prepare to leave now.” The female voice from the CD had returned and interrupted his visions. “Walk out the door and through the meadow into the tunnel and out the other side. The forest is waiting for you. It’s early morning, and the birds are chirping. Keep walking. You are now at your safe place. You are back where you began. Take your time and open your eyes when you’re ready.” The woman’s voice stopped.
“I guess it’s true what they say about Sedona,” Clay said o
ut loud. Everything he’d read about the town and its vortexes described the unbelievable energy existing there.
He ejected the CD and looked at the label. Part Two – Past Life Regression, it said. He opened the CD case and checked the other disc. Part One – Meditation, it read. He couldn’t believe he had put the wrong disc in. He’d sure lost his amateur standing with what he’d seen.
Was the synchronicity of the Universe working for him? Was it meant to be that he’d experienced past life regression? Or had he merely not bothered to read the label?
Clay started the car and headed down the highway. He saw a white house with a sign that said, Readings. Psychic available now.
Why not? He pulled into the driveway, parked his car, and got out. He crossed the porch and entered the house. A small New Age store was set up in what he assumed had at one time been the home’s living room.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” a dark-haired woman standing behind the counter said.
“What?” Clay asked, surprised at her words.
“I usually go home before this, but I knew someone was going to come in tonight. And here you are.” The woman smiled at Clay.
“I’d like to have a reading,” he mumbled, suddenly feeling intimidated.
“Have you had one before?” The woman came out from behind the counter and started to walk toward a side room.
“I recently began to meditate,” Clay admitted. He just didn’t say how recent.
“Come this way, please,” she said as they entered the room. “Sit where you feel comfortable.”
The room was white and barren. No curtains hung from the windows. No pictures on the wall, and the only furniture was a table and three unmatched straight-backed chairs. Clay chose one and sat down.
“Is there anything special you’re interested in finding out?” she asked.
“I’m mainly interested in mastering meditation.”
A slight smile crept across the woman’s face. “How long have you been on this journey?”
