Soul Mates

by Jeane Watier

  Her father walked up and before any words were spoken, embraced his daughter. “Hi, kitten,” he grinned.

  “Hi, Daddy.” She kissed her father’s cheek, breathing in his familiar cologne. “Marrakesh has really grown. He’s such a handsome dog.”

  “He’ll sire some nice pups. I’ve already had inquiries about him.”

  They continued talking about the dogs, her mother’s latest charity fundraiser, and Cassandra’s work. She noted that nearly fifteen minutes had passed, and her mother had yet to ask about Nick. She hadn’t told them about the breakup. However, since Nick’s parents also lived in Port Hayden, Cassandra suspected she might already know.

  Her suspicions were correct; her mother admitted having heard a rumor. When translated that likely meant she’d called Nick’s mother, and the two had discussed the situation at length. Cassandra gave her parents the necessary details and then tried to change the subject, but her mother was persistent.

  “I’m sure it was just a lover’s quarrel, darling. Give it a day or two. These things always sort themselves out. Nick’s a nice boy. I talked to his mother just the other day. She’s so proud of Nicholas. He’s taking the bar exam next month. After that he’ll be moving back here to join his father’s law firm.”

  The picture she painted was different from the one Cassandra was familiar with. A nice boy? Nick would become a successful lawyer; she had no doubt of that. However, she couldn’t see him moving back to Port Hayden and settling down anytime soon. She was deciding how much to tell her mother, when her father intervened.

  “Helen,” he said firmly. “Cass is a grown woman; she knows what she’s doing. Maybe Nick isn’t the right man for her.”

  Cassandra beamed a thank-you to her father. He was a man of few words, but when he spoke, people listened. Her mother always backed down—at least in front of others. Relieved that the subject had been changed, she inquired about her Aunt Sophia. “I’d hoped to see her this weekend. Will you be having her out to the house?”

  “We invite her all the time,” Helen replied tersely. “She rarely comes.”

  “She doesn’t go out much anymore.” Richard Van Broden came to his aunt’s defense. “She might appreciate a visit, though.”

  Cassandra was glad for the reprieve as she went upstairs. Breathing deeply, she surveyed her bedroom. Within its walls, life was less complicated. Though it seemed she had everything, she realized for the first time that her relationships were lacking. Even the relationship with her parents wasn’t as simple and easy as it once was.

  Mulling it over, she curled up on the window seat and gazed out at the harbor. The sun was low, causing long shadows to reach down the rocky slopes and drape the city in a velvety grey as they made their way into the dark waters of the Atlantic. Off the coast, several small islands were still lit up by the sun’s fading light. Cassandra watched mesmerized as the shadows slowly consumed them. Her reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door.

  “Excuse me, miss.” A woman poked her head in Cassandra’s bedroom. “Dinner is ready.”

  “Thank you…” Cassandra hesitated. “I’m sorry; I don’t know your name.” Her mother hadn’t mentioned that she’d hired a new housekeeper.

  “It’s Sarah,” the woman smiled politely.

  “Thank you, Sarah. Tell Mother and Daddy I’ll be right down.”

  Traditions were honored in their home, and that meant the formal evening meal required a change of clothes. Although Cassandra was familiar with the routine, she found it unnecessary and old fashioned. Her father shared her views. Whenever her mother was away, the two of them dressed in casual clothes and enjoyed their evening meal outside on the terrace or curled up in front of the television. Cassandra smiled at the fond memories, then quickly changed her clothes and hurried down to join her parents at the dinner table.

  NEXT MORNING, Jace applied for a two-hundred-dollar advance on his paycheck. Chad was right; it was easy enough. Still, he had a hard time coming to terms with the extra money he’d be spending. They would inevitably go to parties after the game. By the time the night was over, the cash would likely be gone.

  He hated the way money controlled his life. He longed to go out and enjoy himself like his friends did. Even with money for the ticket and cash in his pocket to spend that evening, he didn’t feel free to have fun. How ironic, he grumbled. I borrow money so I can have a good time, and I’m more miserable than ever.

  When he returned to his apartment, an envelope was lying by his door. Picking it up, he saw that it was addressed to the old woman upstairs. It wasn’t the first time he’d received her mail by mistake, yet it seemed odd to see the letter outside his door and not in the mailbox, especially since there was no mail delivery on Saturdays.

  Maybe someone else received it and misread the number as well, he speculated as he went up the stairs to deliver the envelope to its proper owner. Or maybe someone dropped it off. He paused when he noticed her door was open a crack. Tapping lightly, he listened for a reply. When no one answered, he knocked louder.

  As the door opened further, Jace could see into the old woman’s living room. It was generously filled with furniture that looked as though it had once belonged in a much grander home. The antiquated pieces had rich fabrics and delicate wood detailing.

  Standing in her doorway, Jace debated whether to leave the letter and go, or stay and investigate. Living alone at her age, she could have fallen or something. Who knows if she has family to check on her. He knocked again. “Hello?”

  “Hello, there.”

  The voice came from the stairwell. He turned to see the old woman climbing the stairs with a bag of groceries in one arm.

  “I have to bring the bags up one at a time,” she explained. “I’m not as spry as I used to be.”

  Jace quickly met her halfway down and took the bag from her. He waited for her to enter the apartment and followed with her groceries. “I got your mail by mistake,” he informed her, setting the bag on the counter. “My name’s Jace,” he added. “I live downstairs, in 202.”

  “Yes. Hello, Jace,” she responded jovially. “You’ll stay for a cup of tea?”

  “I…um…” Jace stammered, not sure how to respond when her invitation was more of an assumption. Having tea with an old woman on a Saturday morning was the last thing he wanted to do, but he couldn’t come up with an excuse quickly enough. She’d already put the kettle on the stove. As she set out two delicate china teacups, he sighed. I guess it won’t kill me. She probably doesn’t get many visitors. “Sure,” he shrugged.

  As they waited for the kettle to boil, she addressed him. “I meant what I said the other day.”

  “The other day?” He assumed she was referring to her odd statement in the stairwell the day before. Then again, maybe she’s thinking of a different conversation with someone else altogether. Jace began to feel uneasy.

  “Oh, that was just yesterday, wasn’t it,” she shook her head, laughing.

  “I didn’t know if you were talking to me or not. I mean, I thought maybe you had me confused for someone else.”

  “I’m old, but I haven’t totally lost my mind,” she smiled. “Not yet, anyway.”

  “Then I’m the one who’s confused,” Jace admitted. “You said that life hasn’t handed me a bad deal. What did you mean by that? It sounded like you knew me.”

  “We’re all the same, deep down. We like to look for something or someone to blame when life doesn’t turn out the way we want. Take some advice from an old woman. There’s more to the equation. We get to have a say in how our lives turn out. It was never meant to be a struggle.”

  “Maybe so, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy for everybody. Some people have an unfair advantage.” His defenses rose as he thought of those who got everything handed to them on a silver platter. Port Hayden had more than its share of rich, snobbish families. His mom had spent the last five years working as a housekeeper for some of the city’s wealthiest. He hated that she’d been redu
ced to a servant after his father passed away. She was better than that and deserved to be treated as they were—waited on and pampered. He felt guilty for not being able to make life easier for her.

  “Do you really want what they have?” she asked, seeming to know who he was talking about.

  “Of course,” he asserted. “Who wouldn’t?”

  “I’ve had all that,” she replied nonchalantly. “It’s not as satisfying as you might think.”

  “Thanks, but I’d like a chance to decide for myself.” Jace sipped his tea. It was strong and sweet, but not unpleasant. In the silence that followed, he pondered her words. Did she really have it all at one time? The furniture spoke of wealth. The teacups appeared to be fine china. I wonder what happened.

  “If you look beneath the posh and glamour, the expensive toys with all the bells and whistles, you’d see people just like us. We’re the same underneath. The only difference is what we focus on.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You get what you focus on,” she replied, taking a sip of her tea, then setting it down and staring wistfully into the cup. “You get what you expect from life. It took me many years to understand that.”

  Jace frowned. The explanation was too simple; it didn’t account for the way life took such sharp twists and turns. He liked a good debate, however, and sensed the old bird was up to it. “It can’t be that simple,” he argued. “There are so many variables—things we have no control over.”

  “It seems that way,” she went on in her sweet, even tone. “But you do have control over one aspect, and that makes all the difference.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Control…yes, it’s what we all want, don’t we?” she mused, appearing lost in her thoughts for a moment. “Think about it. You want money—and there’s nothing wrong with that. The problem is that when you get some, it’s not long before you want more. And if you do happen to get a lot of money, you deal with the fear of losing it. You have no assurance of where and when and how the money is going to come; therefore, you have no peace of mind. What you want even more than money is peace of mind, that feeling of control over your money.

  “You don’t just want love,” she continued, pouring him another cup of tea before he had time to object. “You want the security of knowing that you’re in control of who and how much. It’s the same with health. A healthy body today won’t do you much good if you live in fear of dying tomorrow.”

  “Well, yeah,” Jace agreed. “Everyone would like that control, but life doesn’t offer us those assurances.”

  “You can have that assurance…once you understand how the Universe works.”

  Jace frowned again. Though he wanted to believe the old woman had nothing of value to offer him, her words challenged his thinking. Is it that I want so badly to believe my life could be different, that it could be better? He sighed. “So you’ve figured it out? You know how the Universe works?”

  “Like I said before,” she explained, “it’s all about focus. You can have anything you want, anything you choose. You’re in control.”

  Suddenly Jace was frustrated. They’d come full circle, back to where they’d started the day before. Maybe the old lady is crazy after all. Maybe she gets her kicks from believing she has the answers to life’s questions. If what she says is true, how come it took her this long to figure it out? And if she’s in control of her life, why is she living alone in an apartment building that has seen better days?

  Jace looked at his watch. He’d been at her place for almost an hour. He still had to fix a broken tap for his mom before he and Chad left for the game, so he thanked the old woman for the tea and said goodbye, letting himself out. As he walked to his car he breathed a disgruntled sigh, trying to shake off the uncomfortable feelings. The conversation had again left him deep in thought about the hows and whys of life. The problem was, it stirred up questions but did little to answer them.

  His elderly neighbor seemed confident as she talked about focus, control, assurance, and understanding the Universe. Jace had never thought of life in those terms. The ideas intrigued him as much as they disturbed him, and he almost hoped they’d have a chance to talk again. Part of him was curious to hear more.

  Then again, he argued, maybe it’s better to leave it alone. She may have gained some wisdom over the years, but I doubt she has the answers to any of my questions. The thought didn’t satisfy him; a voice inside told him the opposite was true. He shook his head, refusing to give those thoughts any more of his attention. He had a big day ahead of him and wanted to get on with it.

  CHAPTER 3

  WHEN CASSANDRA pulled up in front of the apartment building, she noticed a young man leaving. She immediately assessed him, wondering what kind of people lived in the same building as her aunt. Dressed in blue jeans and a leather jacket, he looked respectable enough. The car he got into was an older model but not in bad shape. Cassandra silently questioned whether he knew her aunt, whether Sophia Langdon associated with the people in her building, in her neighborhood.

  She couldn’t understand why her great aunt lived the way she did, why anyone would choose not to enjoy the benefits money could provide. The building was old. Though it wasn’t run down, it lacked the conveniences of the newer high-rise apartments being built around it—a lobby, a concierge, an elevator, to name a few. As she walked up the narrow staircase, she continued her appraisal. The walls had a decent coat of paint. The carpet underfoot was in good shape. Still, it was far from the luxury her aunt had once enjoyed. At least I assume she enjoyed it, Cassandra mused. How could she not?

  Her evaluation of the place and subsequent hesitation as she stood outside her aunt’s apartment made her aware of her growing apprehension. It was more than a year since she’d seen her aunt Sophia, and that had been at the Town House. She had only been to her apartment once before, many years earlier. The building seemed much smaller than she remembered. Not only that, but Cassandra had to admit she wasn’t comfortable visiting her wealthy aunt in such a humble environment.

  The old woman answered on the first knock. A smile lit up her face as she recognized her grandniece. “Cassandra, my dear, how lovely to see you!”

  Cassandra was instantly drawn to the loving warmth that radiated from her great aunt. Her apprehension gone, she opened her arms to hug the woman. At five-foot-seven, Cassandra was considerably taller, though a quality about Sophia Langdon had always made up for her small stature. Cassandra was happy to see that her favorite aunt still exuded an air of grandeur, a stately presence undiminished by her simplistic lifestyle.

  “It’s good to see you, too, Aunt Sophia,” Cassandra replied. “I’m in town for the weekend and thought I’d stop by. Daddy said you don’t go out much lately. He’s been worried…”

  “Worry…,” Sophia interjected, shaking her head. “It’s so pointless.”

  “But Aunt Sophia, he cares about you. You’re getting older and living alone here.”

  Sophia patted her niece’s hand. “Let’s have some tea, dear.”

  Cassandra had to smile. Her aunt’s outlook was as simplistic as her lifestyle. A cup of tea was the immediate answer to all life’s problems. She watched the old woman in her kitchen, humming as she moved about the small space, boiling the kettle, filling the teapot, setting out cups—perfectly happy as if it were the most important task in the world at that moment.

  “You don’t need to worry about me, either.” Sophia handed Cassandra her tea. “I still have some things to do before I go.”

  Cassandra frowned. She’s obviously referring to her own passing, but what kinds of things is she talking about?

  “You have a full life ahead of you. You’ll marry and have children.” Sophia paused and appeared to look right through her. “There’s something else…something bigger you want to do. You’re a writer, aren’t you?”

  “Um…yes,” Cassandra stumbled, not sure what else to say. Was that some sort of prediction? she questioned silently. I
s Aunt Sophia psychic? Could she possibly know what’s ahead for me?

  “You’ll figure it out,” her aunt smiled sweetly, waving her hand to dismiss the subject. “We tend to get too caught up in the details. Details don’t really matter; it’s how you feel that’s important.”

  How I feel? Cassandra had concluded that she was at a pivotal place in her life and wanted to spend time in her childhood home to sort her thoughts, possibly make some decisions. Now she realized that breaking up with Nick, coming to Port Hayden, and visiting her aunt were not random events. Sophia’s words sent chills up her spine.

  There was something bigger; she’d been feeling it for months, and it seemed all that was happening was somehow leading her to it. It had to do with her writing. As much as she loved her job, a new idea was trying to get her attention, though she wasn’t sure what it was. “Aunt Sophia, how could you possibly know there’s something bigger I want to do? I’ve been feeling it, but I’ve never mentioned it to anyone. I don’t even know what it is, exactly.”

  “We’re all connected, dear.” The old woman patted her hand again. “Once you learn to listen, you can hear a lot. People convey much more than what they say with words.”

  “But how?” Cassandra wasn’t satisfied. She wanted to understand how her aunt could perceive a desire she was barely aware of herself, a mysterious inner longing she’d only recently acknowledged. “What do you see or hear that others don’t?”

  “It’s possible to see with more than your eyes and hear with more than your ears,” Sophia explained. “You can learn to sense what’s going on with others and feel things…inside.” She tapped her chest. “Some call it a knowing.”

  “So…you could sense that about me in the short time we’ve been visiting here?”

  “Young people are often the easiest to read. So much enthusiasm for life. So many dreams. It’s like a bright light shining around them.”