by Kay Hooper
She’s very young, just eighteen. Very gentle and serious. Very devout. I will have to be patient.
Laura sat for a long time, not moving, gazing at nothing. Thoughts tumbled through her mind so rapidly she could barely grasp them. All the inexplicable events and feelings of her life began to come into focus, to finally make sense to her—if, that is, she accepted one very simple impossibility as truth.
And, dear God, how could she do that?
IT WAS JUST before five when Daniel came into the bedroom, and as soon as he saw the papers spread out on the hassock, the journal, he went cold to his bones. He looked around quickly, saw her standing at the window, and the relief was so great he nearly groaned aloud. Instead he went as far as the chair and put his hand on the back of it, looking across the few feet that separated them with so much hope and fear, he felt raw.
“Laura?”
She didn’t turn, and when she spoke her voice sounded almost absentminded. “You said that David got the idea for the maze from a stranger in a bar. Tell me about that.”
There could be no more prevarication, Daniel knew. No more lies, no more evasions. Between them now there could only be stark truth.
He drew a deep breath and held his voice steady. “In 1955, David was in San Francisco on business. In a hotel bar, he met a grieving young man who had buried his fiancée the year before. The young man had a mirror made of brass lying in front of him. A mirror with an elaborate, mazelike pattern stamped into the metal. The young man had had too much to drink, and he talked. He told David that the pattern stamped on the mirror was called Eternity, that the mirror had been specially commissioned to celebrate … an eternal love. And while David traced the pattern over and over with a finger, the young man told him a fantastic story about reincarnated lovers. They talked until dawn, and then the young man took his mirror and left. The story haunted David. When he came back home, he had the maze put in. And as you can see, he remembered the pattern very well.”
“You can only see it clearly from this window,” Laura murmured. “This was David’s room, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
She turned, finally, leaning back against the window casing. Her face was pale but calm, and he couldn’t read her eyes.
“Laura—”
“It was you, wasn’t it? That grieving young man in the bar. It was you. Ten years before Daniel Kilbourne was born.”
Daniel nodded slowly. “It was me. Another face, another time. But me.”
“And you were grieving … me.”
He nodded again. “I made a mistake. I told you about us too soon. Your faith was too absolute to allow for such a possibility, even coming as it did from the man you loved. You were … distraught. Frightened. You ran from me. And you died that night.” He tried to steady his voice. “And I lived on, ten eternal years without you. I swore I wouldn’t make the same mistake again, Laura. I wouldn’t tell you the truth until I was certain you were ready to hear it.”
“That’s why you didn’t want to talk about the mirror.”
“Yes.”
She was silent for a moment, then murmured, “I’ve always hated Christmas. And never knew why.”
Daniel took a step toward her, but stopped when she held up a hand warningly. She wanted the distance to remain between them. At least for now. Please God, let it only be for now …
“I don’t remember,” she said. “I … feel things. But I don’t remember.”
“I know. You never do. It’s one of the crosses I’ve had to bear, that you don’t consciously remember me. Or us.”
“But you remember? What do you remember, Daniel?”
“At first, in childhood, there are only flashes, dreams. As I get older, the memories slowly come into focus. By the time I reach adulthood, I know the truth. And I begin searching for you.”
“But what do you remember!” she asked, suddenly intense.
He drew a deep breath. “I remember the first time I ever saw you, a long, long time ago. I remember every face you’ve ever worn, even more clearly than I remember my own. I remember the times we were able to grow old together, and the times when our lives were short. I remember our tragedies, and our triumphs. I remember every place we’ve ever lived together, every home we’ve had.”
“Scotland,” she realized suddenly. “My painting.”
Daniel nodded. “We were happy there.”
She looked at him searchingly. “We weren’t always happy?”
He hesitated. “It hasn’t always been easy for us, Laura. Sometimes I found you after you’d already been promised to another man. Sometimes our lives were torn by violence. But we always knew we belonged together.”
Still her eyes searched his face, and Daniel couldn’t tell if she looked at him in wonder or in doubt. “Why can’t I cut my hair?” she asked abruptly.
“Because of something that happened long ago,” he answered readily. “You lived in a small village, and when I found you that time, you were already married. An arranged marriage your father had forced you into—had virtually sold you into. And it was a very unhappy marriage, even before I showed up. There was no way out for you, not then, but we had to be together. We took … insane risks.” He paused, then went on with more difficulty. “When your husband found out, he beat you terribly and cut off all your hair. He meant it to be a badge of shame, a kind of scarlet letter proclaiming you an adulteress. You weren’t ashamed of loving me, but in cutting off your hair, he hurt you far worse than he did with his fists and words. You swore no one would ever again cut your hair against your will. In every life since, you’ve worn it long.”
“What happened?” Laura asked. “In that life, what happened to us?”
In a matter-of-fact tone that came from lifetimes of reflection, Daniel said, “I killed your husband and we ran away together. It was a hard life, but we had each other. That always got us through.”
Laura shook her head a little. “This is so hard to believe.”
“I know, love,” he said gently. “But it’s the truth, I swear to you.”
“The mirror. It’s been … guiding us? To each other?”
He nodded. “I don’t know how. I’ve learned to accept that there are patterns in fate, threads of destiny we always seem to follow. Like the mirror. Ever since I had it made for you, it’s been somehow involved in our meeting each other in a new life. This time … I have no idea how it ended up here, in this house. With this family. If I had to guess, I’d say that Dad probably found it in a shop somewhere and brought it home for Mother. He was always doing that when they were first married, buying her things she never had much interest in. But all I know for certain is that when I saw the description of the mirror on the inventory, I thought there was a chance it was ours. And sent Peter to you to buy it back.”
“If you thought it might be our mirror,” she said slowly, “then why did you send Peter? Why not come yourself?”
“I was afraid,” he answered simply. “Afraid it wouldn’t be our mirror. That it wouldn’t be you. Afraid to hope, after so many years without you. Then Peter came back, and when he told me about your collection of mirrors, I knew it was you. It had to be. Mirrors fascinate both of us, they always have. In fact, Peter needled me a bit that afternoon, saying that you were probably my soul mate because of the obsession with mirrors.”
Daniel frowned suddenly. “That must have been what Amelia overheard. She made a comment later—the first time you came here—about the mirror. All I could think was that David must have told her something when he had the maze put in. And maybe he had. Or maybe she simply overheard my conversation with Peter. In any case, she knew enough to suspect that you would be the perfect distraction for me. And so she brought you into the house.”
After a long moment, Laura drew a breath and let it out slowly. “There’s one more thing I need to know.”
He took a step toward her, his heart thudding, once again afraid to hope. “What, love?”
“Is this …
our last life? Or only our next one?”
Daniel smiled. “I can’t see the future, Laura. Only the past. But I can tell you this much. We always live as if this is the last life we’ll be given. Because it may well be.”
Laura moved away from the window and crossed the space between them. Looking up at him gravely, she said, “Then we’d better get started on it, don’t you think?”
“Laura …”
“I love you, Daniel.” Her arms went around his neck and her body pressed close to his, and her smile was so tender it almost stopped his heart. “And I want this life to be the best we’ve ever had.”
As his head bent and his lips touched hers, Daniel had no doubts at all.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
KAY HOOPER, who has more than four million copies of her books in print worldwide, has won numerous awards and high praise for her novels. Kay lives in North Carolina, where she is currently working on her next novel.
If you loved Kay Hooper’s
FINDING LAURA
you won’t want to miss any of her novels of psychic suspense!
Turn the page for her next tantalizing thriller,
WHISPER OF EVIL
CHAPTER ONE
TUESDAY. MARCH 21
Whoever had dubbed the town Silence must have gotten a laugh out of it, Nell thought as she closed the door of her Jeep and stood beside the vehicle on the curb. For a relatively small town, it was not what anyone would have called peaceful even on an average day; on this mild weekday in late March, at least three school groups appeared to be trying to raise money for something or other with loud and cheerful car washes in two small parking lots and a bake sale going on in the grassy town square. And there were plenty of willing customers for the kids, even with building clouds promising a storm later on.
Nell hunched her shoulders and slid her cold hands into the pockets of her jacket. Her restless gaze warily scanned the area, studying the occasional face even as she listened to snatches of conversation as people walked past her. Calm faces, innocuous talk. Nothing out of the ordinary.
It didn’t look or sound like a town in trouble.
Nell glanced through the window of her Jeep at the newspaper folded on the passenger seat; there hadn’t been much in yesterday’s local daily to indicate trouble. Not much, but definitely hints, especially for anyone who knew how to read between the lines.
Not far from where she stood was a newspaper vendor selling today’s edition, and she could easily make out the headline announcing the town council’s decision to acquire property on which to build a new middle school. There was, as far as she could see, no mention on the front page of anything of greater importance than that.
Nell walked over to buy herself a paper and returned to stand beside her Jeep as she quickly scanned the three thin sections. She found it where she expected to find it, among the obituaries.
GEORGE THOMAS CALDWELL,
42, UNEXPECTEDLY, AT HOME.
There was more, of course. A long list of accomplishments for the relatively young man, local and state honors, business accolades. He had been very successful, George Caldwell, and unusually well-liked for a man in his position.
But it was the unexpectedly Nell couldn’t get past. Someone’s idea of a joke in very poor taste? Or was the sheriff’s department refusing to confirm media speculation of only a day or so ago about the violent cause of George Caldwell’s death?
Unexpected. Oh, yeah. Murder usually was.
“Jesus. Nell.”
She refolded the newspaper methodically and tucked it under her arm as she turned to face him. It was easy to keep her expression unrevealing, her voice steady. She’d had a lot of practice—and this was one meeting she had been ready for.
“Hello, Max.”
Standing no more than an arm’s length away, Max Tanner looked at her, she decided, rather the way he’d look at something distasteful he discovered on the bottom of his shoe. Hardly surprising, she supposed.
“What the hell are you doing here?” His voice was just uneven enough to make it obvious he couldn’t sound as impersonal and indifferent as he wanted to.
“I could say I was just passing through.”
“You could. What’s the truth?”
Nell shrugged, keeping the gesture casual. “I imagine you can guess. The will’s finally through probate, so there’s a lot I have to do. Go through things, clear out the house, arrange to sell it. If that’s what I end up doing, of course.”
“You mean you’re not sure?”
“About selling out?” Nell allowed her mouth to curve in a wry smile. “I’ve had a few doubts.”
“Banish them,” he said tightly. “You don’t belong here, Nell. You never did.”
She pretended that didn’t hurt. “Well, we agree on that much. Still, people change, especially in—what?—a dozen years? Maybe I could learn to belong.”
He laughed shortly. “Yeah? Why would you want to? What could there possibly be in this pissant little town to interest you?”
Nell had learned patience in those dozen years, and caution. So all she said in response to that harsh question was a mild “Maybe nothing. We’ll see.”
Max drew a breath and shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, gazing off toward the center of town as if the bake sale going on there fascinated him.
While he was deciding what to say next, Nell studied him. He hadn’t changed much, she thought. Older, of course. Physically more powerful now in his mid-thirties; he probably still ran, still practiced the martial arts that had been a lifelong interest. In addition, of course, to the daily physical labors of a cattle rancher. Whatever he was doing, it was certainly keeping him in excellent shape.
His lean face was a bit more lived-in than it had been, but just as with so many really good-looking men, the almost-too-pretty features of youth were maturing with age into genuine and striking male beauty—beauty that was hardly spoiled at all by the thin, grim line of his mouth. The passage of the years had barely marked that face in any negative way. There might have been a few threads of silver in the dark hair at his temples, and she didn’t remember the laugh lines at the corners of his heavy-lidded brown eyes.…
Bedroom eyes. He’d been known for them all through school, for bedroom eyes and a hot temper, both gifts from a Creole grandmother. Maturity had done nothing to dampen the smoldering heat lurking in those dark eyes; she wondered if it had taught him to control the temper.
It had certainly taught her to control hers.
“You’ve got a hell of a nerve, I’ll say that for you,” he said finally, that intense gaze returning to her face.
“Because I came back? You must have known I would. With Hailey gone, there was no one else to … take care of things.”
“You didn’t come back for the funeral.”
“No.” She offered no explanation, no defense.
His mouth tightened even more. “Most people around here said you wouldn’t.”
“What did you say?” She asked because she had to. “I was a fool. I said you would.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
Max shook his head once, an almost violent negation, and his voice was hard. “You can’t disappoint me, Nell. I lost ten bucks on a bet, that’s all.”
Nell didn’t know what she would have said to that, but she was saved from replying when an astonished female voice exclaimed her name.
“Nell Gallagher? My God, is that you?”
Nell half turned and managed a faint smile for the stunning redhead hurrying toward her. “It’s me, Shelby.”
Shelby Theriot shook her head and repeated, “My God,” as she joined them beside Nell’s car. For a moment, it seemed she would throw her arms around Nell in an exuberant hug, but in the end she just grinned. “I thought you’d probably show up here eventually, what with the house and everything to take care of, but I guess I figured it’d be later, maybe summer or something, though I don’t know why. Hey, Max.”
<
br /> “Hey, Shelby.” He stood there with his hands in his pockets, expressionless now, dark eyes flicking back and forth between the two women.
Nell kept her own gaze on Shelby’s glowing face. “I thought about waiting until fall or until storm season was mostly past,” she said easily, “but it worked out that I had some time now before beginning a new job, so I came on down.”
“Down from where?” Shelby demanded. “Last we heard, you were out west somewhere.”
“Heard from Hailey?”
“Yeah. She said you were—well, I think the word she used was entangled, with some guy in Los Angeles. Or maybe it was Las Vegas. Anyway, out west somewhere. And that you were taking college courses at night. At least, I think that’s what she said.”
Rather than commenting on the information, Nell merely said, “I live in D.C. now.”
“Did you ever get married? Hailey said you came close once or twice.”
“No. I never married.”
Shelby grimaced. “Me either. Matter of fact, half our graduating class seems to be single these days, even though most of us have hit thirty. Depressing, isn’t it?”
“Maybe some of us are better off alone,” Nell offered, keeping her tone light.
“I think there’s something in the water,” Shelby said darkly. “Honest, Nell, this is getting to be a weird place. Have you heard about the murders?”
Nell lifted an eyebrow. “Murders?”
“Yeah. Four so far, if you count George Caldwell—remember him, Nell? ’Course, the sheriff hasn’t been eager to put this latest death on the list with the others, but—”
