Soul Mates

by Jeane Watier

  They’d been close—though not in age; he was six years older—and she missed her big brother. She’d always looked up to him. Over the years he’d been her best friend and confident, her advisor, her protector. Cassandra smiled, recalling the good times they’d had, especially in the summers. Endless walks on the beach, rainy nights in front of the fireplace playing board games, and his obsession with home movies. He was always filming, and she was, more often than not, the subject of his films. He adored her, too, calling her doodlebug as he picked her up off her feet, swinging her around.

  She remembered their long talks, how she appreciated a listening ear when she was going through her formative teenage years. She remembered his advice to her, as well, when his failed marriage became known: You’ve got to live your own life, doodlebug. You’ve got to do what’s right for you.

  Her father had gone inside, but Cassandra remained on the porch swing, daydreaming. She closed her eyes and thought back to lovemaking with Jace on the beach. It had been beyond what she’d imagined. Her body still quivered at the memory of his touch. They hadn’t talked much. Neither had they made plans to see each other. But she couldn’t wait to see him again, so she decided to leave for Port Hayden, Saturday morning. I could surprise him, and maybe we could spend the day together before I go back to the city. She wasn’t deluding herself; there were no guarantees. Making a relationship work would be tricky, but she wanted to try. She truly hoped Jace felt the same.

  JACE PREFERRED not to talk about Cassandra, at least not with Sophie. He’d have to resolve that issue himself. He had something else on his mind. Having begun to formulate a plan earlier that day, he wanted to discuss it with her. “Sophie, you said I need to change my focus; I need to think like the rich. I want to learn how to do that.”

  “Well,” Sophie began. “The subject of money is really two subjects. You can think of the presence of money or you can think of the absence of it. Most people focus on the absence. But those who focus on the presence—they’re the ones who have it. Do you see how this works?”

  “The rich are focused on the presence of money.” Jace repeated the statement, contemplating it. It almost seemed too simple.

  “Yes. They talk about money and investments. They talk about making more money. They think about their padded bank accounts and the trips they’re planning to take, the renovations they’re planning to make, or the parties they’re planning to throw…”

  “It’s easy for them to talk about it when they already have all that.”

  “Maybe so,” Sophie insisted. “But you can do it, too. You just have to want it badly enough, and be determined to keep focusing in a way that feels good when you think about money.”

  “I’ve been focusing on the absence of money for so long; it’s no wonder I’m always broke,” Jace grinned. “But I still don’t understand. How do I focus on the presence of something I don’t have?”

  “You can visualize it, even if you don’t have it yet. But start small,” she advised. “If you try to envision mansions and yachts and exorbitant bank accounts from where you are now, you’ll run into trouble. Instead, imagine your bank account in the black each month. Imagine having money for the activities you like to do with your friends. Imagine being able to buy something special for yourself every month.”

  Her advice didn’t seem very exciting. Jace was eager to dive in the deep end, and what Sophie suggested was like sticking his little toe in the water.

  “The process has to happen in your mind first. You need to be able to think about your situation in a way that feels good before anything can change. A coin is a good reminder.” She took a quarter from her purse and held it up. “This coin represents money. One side is lack.” She turned it over. “The other is abundance. You can only focus on one side at a time. Whenever you’re thinking about money or talking about it, you can tell which side you’re focused on by how you feel. If you’re discouraged or frustrated or impatient when you think of money, you’re focused on lack. If you’re hopeful or excited about the idea of having money one day, then that day isn’t far away.”

  “I guess.” He couldn’t argue with her, but he wanted something more substantial, something that would help him know he was moving toward his dreams.

  “I know this doesn’t feel like much of a plan,” she responded, somehow reading his mind. “But your thoughts create your reality. They’re like building materials. If you construct them carefully, if you follow a blueprint, before long you’ll have a framework that will fill in with all the good you want.”

  Jace liked the analogy. He could picture his thoughts coming together like the frame of a house. It wasn’t hard to see what the completed structure would look like, even though all the finishes weren’t in place. He understood the need to follow a plan and build with care to get good results. He’d been building with shoddy materials and not paying attention to the quality of his construction. No wonder I keep building hovels that fall down around me, he surmised. “Okay, I want to think better thoughts. I want to be more aware of what I’m creating.”

  “That’s good,” Sophie encouraged. “The best thoughts to begin with are usually the most basic. Statements like: I’m doing okay. This situation is temporary. I don’t have to figure it all out right now. I’m on a journey, and I’m doing just fine.”

  Jace was about to object when he realized that her statements, though general in nature, felt good. They soothed him in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He was beginning to understand Sophie’s reasoning.

  “Those thoughts have the power to neutralize your deeply rooted negative beliefs,” she explained. “From there, you can start to construct your framework. You construct it with words like ease, comfort, harmony satisfaction, anticipation. When you meditate on those words, you’ll be reminded of times in your life when you’ve felt that way, and you’ll feel good. The more time you spend feeling good, the stronger your framework.”

  “I get it. That’s the leverage!” Jace responded enthusiastically, smiling as his wise old friend nodded with satisfaction. “I can do that. Thanks, Sophie.” The excitement was building again. He had a solid plan. Sophie was right. He needed to take smaller steps. Any steps that would take him in the direction of his dreams were worth the effort.

  CASSANDRA WOKE from her daydream as a car entered the yard. She looked up expecting to see her mother returning from the party. Instead she saw a car she didn’t recognize. Leaning forward, she squinted to see through the sun’s glare on the windshield and shrieked as she saw her brother’s face. She quickly ran to meet him.

  He picked her up in an affectionate bear hug, swinging her around like a child. “Hey, doodlebug,” he smiled, “it’s good to see you.”

  “Oh my God, Trevor,” she cried. “I’m so glad you’re here! Do Mother and Daddy know you’re coming?”

  “No,” he replied tentatively. “So I’m not sure how welcome I’ll be. I was hoping the guest house would be free.”

  “It is,” Cassandra affirmed. “Aunt Sophia just left an hour ago.”

  “Sophia’s still alive?” he laughed. “God, she must be nearly a hundred.”

  “Eighty-seven and still going strong.”

  “How’s everything with you?” he inquired. “You look good. Are you still with Nick?”

  “No,” she responded easily. “We’re done.”

  “Good.”

  “You never liked him, did you?” Cassandra slipped her arm around Trevor’s waist. “I guess I should have listened to my big brother.”

  “I’ve learned a few things.” He squeezed her shoulder lovingly.

  “I met somebody else.”

  “Yeah? Who is he?”

  “You wouldn’t know him.”

  “I take it he’s not from the approved breeding stock of Port Hayden,” he remarked cynically.

  “Oh, he’s from Port Hayden,” she laughed. “I wouldn’t exactly call him approved breeding stock, though.”

  “Good for you, doodleb
ug,” he exclaimed. “Has he faced the judge and jury yet?”

  “No,” she shook her head. “I’ve told Daddy about him, but Mother doesn’t know.” Cassandra’s qualms increased as she considered the possible ramifications of a relationship with Jace. Given her brother’s experience, and her father’s apprehension earlier, she was suddenly aware that the road ahead might be a bumpy one.

  “YOUR FAMILY seems to be pretty well off.” Jace was curious about Sophie’s relationship with them. He wondered how close she was to them or whether they assisted her financially.

  “Yes,” she replied. “They are.”

  “Do they help you out at all?” He couldn’t resist asking.

  “I’m not lacking for anything, Jace.”

  “Yeah, but wouldn’t you rather live in a big house and have servants?”

  “Would you?”

  Jace had to think. Her question had caught him off guard. Since his mom worked as a servant, he’d come to think badly of her employers because of it—not because they treated her poorly, but because they presented themselves as better than working-class people. Lately he was starting to think differently. Cassandra’s family was well off, and she didn’t act that way with him. She had at first, however. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

  The remainder of the trip passed without much communication. Jace’s mind was full with all that had transpired that afternoon, both unspoken and spoken, on the beach with Cassandra and in the ensuing conversation with Sophie. When they arrived at their building, he carried Sophie’s luggage to her door and then sought refuge in his own apartment. He opened a can of beer and went to sit in the living room to sort through his thoughts.

  “Knock, knock.”

  Jace recognized his mom’s voice and her familiar way of announcing her arrival. “Hey,” he acknowledged, not moving from his chair.

  She went into the kitchen, set a bag of groceries on the counter, and began to put the items in his fridge.

  “What’s all that?”

  “The Van Broden’s are away for the summer, and there’s so much food in the house, plus fresh produce from the garden every day. I just have myself and Jerry, the gardener, to cook for, so there’s always plenty left over. Her highness said I was welcome to use it up. I’ve been taking some to my neighbors. I thought you might like some, too.”

  “Sure, thanks.” Jace had heard his mother refer to her new employer as ‘her highness’ before and had laughed with her over several interesting and not-so-pleasant experiences working there. This time, something about her comment left him uneasy. “Where do they go for the summer?” he asked hesitantly.

  “Oh, up the coast,” she replied. “They have a summer home not far from Walden Beach. Do you remember going there when Dad was alive?”

  “Of course,” he replied, trying to ignore the rising panic in his chest. He turned away, pretending to look at sports scores in the newspaper. His gut told him that what he suspected was true, but he needed to know for sure. “So, the Van Brodens…” he asked as dispassionately as he could. “Do they have kids? I’ve never heard you mention any.”

  “They have two grown children,” she replied as she finished putting the groceries away. “Do you mind if I have a soda?”

  “No, help yourself.”

  His mom joined him in the living room, sat back on the sofa with a relaxing sigh, and took a drink before she continued answering his question. “Their son lives in Europe. I’ve never met him. He’s thirty-one or thirty-two, I think. Divorced. Apparently, that didn’t go over well with her highness,” Sarah laughed, “so he doesn’t show his face around there much.

  “I’ve met the daughter a couple of times,” she continued. “She’s a bit younger—probably closer to your age. A real pretty girl. She lives in the city and works for some fashion magazine.”

  Jace’s mind attempted to absorb the full shock of what he’d just heard. Cassandra was a Van Broden. She was a member of one of the wealthiest families in Port Hayden. As if that wasn’t enough, his mother worked for her parents.

  God, this is messed, he groaned inwardly. The searing heat in the pit of his stomach was hard to ignore, yet he maintained an outward calm as he assessed the situation. Then it’s the Van Brodens that Sophie’s related to as well. He wasn’t about to tell his mom that he knew Cassandra, and he doubted she’d ever discover it—especially now that he had no intention of ever seeing her again. However, he decided it would be wise to inform his mom about Sophie’s connection to the family she worked for. “Did you know that Sophie is related to the Van Brodens?” he remarked, working hard at keeping his voice from cracking.

  “Sophie?” she asked, frowning in disbelief. “The Sophie that lives upstairs? The Sophie you work for?”

  “She just spent a week at the Van Broden’s summer house. I picked her up there this afternoon.”

  “You can’t be serious!”

  “Trust me, I am.” The events of the afternoon were still fresh in his mind.

  “Oh my God, Jace!” Sarah looked at her son in dismay. “Sophie…I wonder if she’s Sophia Langdon? Lady Sophia Langdon?”

  “Yeah, her last name is Langdon, but why ‘Lady’?”

  “It’s a title,” his mom explained. “She was married to Lord Phillip Langdon. I heard he was directly related to the monarchy in England. Jace, I’ve heard all kinds of stories about that woman! Some say she went crazy after he died. Lost all her money or gave it away or something. Some say she hides it in her apartment because she doesn’t trust the banks.” Sarah paused. “Just be careful…okay, son?”

  Her warning struck him as preposterous, not to mention hilarious. “You think I’m being taken advantage of by an eighty-year old crazy lady?” he laughed. “Remember, she’s paying me a salary and letting me use her car. Besides…” He had to add a word in Sophie’s defense. “She’s not crazy.”

  “No, I don’t mean that,” Sarah continued, still looking concerned. “It’s her connection to the Van Brodens. They’re a powerful family. Just watch yourself.”

  Jace had no idea what she meant. How could I possibly be in danger because of my connection to Sophie or because of her connection to the Van Brodens? If I’m in any danger at all, he acknowledged painfully, it’s my lack of resistance when it comes to Cassandra’s charm.

  CHAPTER 12

  THE DOG barking brought her father outside to see what the commotion was about. Cassandra watched her father’s face as he noticed Trevor on the veranda. She saw pleasure mixed with pain and something else she couldn’t decipher.

  Regardless of what he felt, Richard Van Broden smiled and opened his arms without hesitation. “Welcome home, son.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” Trevor replied. “I wasn’t sure if I’d be welcome or not.”

  “The past is past,” Richard offered amicably. “Let’s put it behind us and move on. It’s good to have you back.”

  “Does Mother feel the same?”

  Before he could answer, a car pulled in the yard, and Helen Van Broden emerged from the passenger seat. She said goodbye to her friend and stood waving before turning to notice her family on the veranda.

  “Trevor.” She smiled outwardly, but her eyes revealed her true feelings. Her voice was strained as she continued. “What a surprise. We weren’t expecting you.”

  As Trevor acknowledged his mother’s words, Cassandra could feel his discomfort. She didn’t understand what had gone on between mother and son that could cause such lasting discord. She hoped to be able to talk to her brother while he was there, hoped to understand and maybe help—be a mediator, if possible, to heal the rift.

  “I wish you’d given us some warning, dear,” Helen said, her reproach lightly coated with sweetness. “The guest house isn’t made up, and the maid is off today. I suppose you could stay in the main house.”

  “Look,” Trevor replied tersely. “I don’t want to inconvenience you. I can go to the motel in town. I’m not staying long, anyway.”

  �
�Don’t be silly,” Cassandra interrupted. “I’ll make up the bed in the guest house.” She gave Trevor a pleading look. “Please stay. I want to catch up. It’s been so long.” Glancing around, she saw her father nod, yet the reservation on his face was hard to miss.

  Her mother, yielding to the consensus, addressed Cassandra. “Very well, then. The linens are in the storage room beside the laundry. I’ll let Mrs. Harper know we’ll be having a guest for dinner.” She turned without looking at Trevor and walked into the house.

  Cassandra knew perfectly well where the linens were kept. She’d played in the basement as a child and remembered with fondness the smell of freshly washed laundry. She and her friends had often taken sheets or blankets from the storage room to facilitate their imaginative adventures. Smiling at her brother, she left to get the needed items.

  When she arrived at the guesthouse she found Trevor standing in the middle of the room, suitcase in hand. He set down the luggage as she walked in.

  “I’m not sure this is a good idea, doodlebug.”

  She went over, put her hand on his arm, and looked up at him. He was a handsome man, tall and good looking, yet he had a softness about him. He was sensitive and caring, and that made Cassandra love him all the more. Why he was such a disappointment to their mother, she couldn’t understand. “What’s it all about, Trev?” she implored. “Why the tension between you and Mother after all this time?”

  He let out a deep breath and took her hands in his. “Cass, there’s something you should know.”

  “What is it?” Her heart began to pound at the seriousness of his tone.

  “I’m gay,” he stated, searching her eyes.

  “Oh.” Her barely audible response contained no shock or dismay. The revelation caused everything to make sense, and she realized that at some level she’d known all along. “And Mother knows.” It was a statement rather than a question.