“Mess.”
That wasn’t the word she’d been about to use, but the f-enhimer wasn’t in Vivi Anne’s vocabulary. “Yes. A mess.” And I’m to the point I don’t care what Lou and Nate want to do with the property.” Meeting Vivi Anne’s gaze, she asked, “How’d you learn about the dump site?”
“Certain board meeting minutes have to be made public, you just have to know where to find them.” Vivi Anne had already kicked off her flip flops, and lifted her feet onto the bed, tucking them beneath her purple skirt. “If you don’t care about that, what do you care about?”
She had to pinch her lips together in order to fight the burning at the back of her eyes. Nothing, she wanted to say, but that wasn’t true. Might never have been true. She’d wanted to believe she didn’t care about others because of this very reason. It hurts. Hurts like hell.
“Rance. I don’t want him to live the rest of his life in that little cabin. Sad and lonely.” She swallowed a sob. “But he loves Beth so much, he refuses to do anything about it.” Sniffling, she pressed a finger to the corner of her eye. “He won’t even talk about anything else, and because-because I look like her, he thinks I am her.”
The tears forcing their way out stuffed-up her nose. She took the Kleenex Vivi Anne handed her.
“It’s heart breaking,” she said. “Literally heartbreaking.”
“For who? You or Rance?”
“Rance.” She’d spoken without thought and had to retract it. “Me, maybe. I don’t know. I’ve never given a shit about anyone, anything; yet, my heart is breaking for this man. I find myself wishing I was his wife. That somehow, someway, I’m here because of him. That he’s my…” She didn’t know how to explain it, and the tears gushed out again. “I think I’ve fallen in love with him, Vivi Anne. How flipping crazy is that? I don’t even believe in love. Don’t even know what it is.”
“It’s not crazy at all.” Vivi Anne held up a hand for her to stop pacing. “None of us know what love is until we find it. Rance could be your soul mate. That’s what you were going to call him.”
She had been about to call him that. “That’s impossible. We don’t even live in the same century.”
“Stranger things have happened,” Vivi Anne said.
“Tell me one.”
Vivi Anne shook her head but then patted the bed. “Sit down.”
She kicked off her sandals before climbing on the bed to sit cross-legged, ready to listen. She needed answers of some kind and believed Vivi Anne was the only one to give them.
“What I told you about Otto’s accident is true. I saw it before it happened,” Vivi Anne said.
Liz nodded but held her silence, waiting to learn more about Vivi Anne’s husband and her powers.
“But the part I left out is that things like that had been happening to me for years, and it sucked. I’d walk into a room, and my head wanted to explode. I’d know what people were thinking. I couldn’t look them in the eye because I’d instantly see things about them. That their spouse was cheating on them, or their credit cards were maxed. I’d see flashes of their pasts, of their futures. Worse than that, I’d see people. Dead people. Like that kid in that movie years ago. Old spirits, new spirits, happy spirits, grumpy spirits. It was constant. There was no switch I could turn on or off. No way to stop those spirit cocktail parties from appearing.” She let out along breath. “Until Otto’s accident.”
“What happened?” Liz asked, truly concerned.
“I told myself I had enough, and I called a psychic.”
“You called a psychic?”
“Yes. I didn’t know what else to do, but I was never, ever going to have what happened with Otto happen again. That was before cell phones, and I had no way to call him, to warn him. I just sat there, waiting for the deputy to show up at my door. I knew one would. I’d seen it.”
“Oh, Vivi Anne, I’m so sorry. I can only imagine how terrible that must have been.”
“It was hell. Living hell. After Otto’s accident, I couldn’t take any more and called a friend I’d met through my psychic community, one who was very comfortable with her abilities, and she walked me through learning how not to see dead people, and not hear people’s thoughts, and not see futures. It wasn’t easy, but slowly, it worked. I made a conscious promise, gave myself permission to believe that it would work, and it did.”
“What worked?”
“Belief in myself.”
“But…” Liz wasn’t sure how to say it other than, “You still have psychic abilities.”
“Yes, I do, but so do you and everyone else on this earth.”
Liz shook her head. “Not like you do. I Googled you. There are people on line who insist you helped them find their soul mate, brought them together after years of being apart.”
“I know, and I let them use my name because it is what they believe. What they need to believe, but in truth, they were just people I crossed paths with, or encountered for different reasons. All I did was help them lift the weight holding them down. People know what’s holding them back from going after what they want; they just need to recognize it. Then they usually need validation to lift it, to exhume guilt or excavate themselves out of sorrow, or whatever it is keeping them from getting what they truly want.”
To say Liz was disappointed put it mildly. She wanted some sort of distinct validation on what was happening to her, why she was here in Cody falling in love with a ghost—if she truly was falling in love with a ghost. What Vivi Anne was saying reminded her of all the time she’d spent trying to find out information about her past, her family. There had been nothing but dead-ends. No answers. No long-lost family connections. Nothing, which had left her as empty and dissatisfied as she was right now.
She sighed. “So you’re not a psychic, you’re a life coach.”
Vivi Anne’s smile was empathetic. “I’m me. That’s what I am. Who I am. Right now, that means I’m an antiques dealer and will be until I’m ready to try something else. I’ve also been a bartender, a belly dancer, a truck driver, a massage therapist, a journalist, a travel agent, and several other things. I even taught third grade my first year out of college. Which meant after being a student I was a teacher.” With a shrug, she said, “People are what they believe they are, and society relates that to the job they have. The way they earn money. I’ve never earned money by helping people, so no, I’m not a psychic or a life coach.”
Liz didn’t want to sound selfish, but she was so flustered. “So you can’t help me. Can’t help me figure out what to do about Rance. You’re only here to sell his antiques.”
“That’s the reason we are both here,” Vivi Anne said. “But as your friend, which I am, I can tell you a bit about soul mates.”
“Soul mates.”
“Yes. That’s what you were going to call Rance a few minutes ago, before we got off track.”
“I don’t want a ghost to be my soul mate.” Although it did seem par for her life.
“Why not? Soul mates come in many forms. It isn’t always the love of our lives. Otto was the love of my life, but he wasn’t my soul mate.” Vivi Anne smiled softly. “A soul mate is a member of our soul family. A group of souls who have a karmic relationship. Some aren’t easy, but soul mate relationships always include important life lessons. A brother, sister, mother, father, any family member can be our soul mate. So can a best friend. Someone you instantly connect with, have recognition, a bond that is deep and solid. One that never goes away. You can sense your soul mate even when separated by space or time. Take that man I met from Helena.”
“The one you met about antiques?”
“It wasn’t about antiques. He heard about me from someone, and he’s looking for his son whose plane went down in Alaska last year. He swears his son is his soul mate and believes he didn’t die in the accident.”
Curious, Liz asked, “Did he?”
Vivi Anne shrugged. “I’m not a psychic. I don’t find lost people. But this man believes his son
isn’t dead, and he’s searching for someone to validate his belief.”
“Can you?”
“No one can validate what another believes. Beliefs are internal. Two people can be presented with the same facts, one may believe them, another may dispute them, either way, the choice is theirs.” Vivi Anne lifted a painted-on brow. “If you believe Rance is your soul mate, sincerely believe it, then he is.”
Liz slapped her knees. “I don’t want him to be my soul mate. Why would I want the love of my life to live in another century? That makes no sense.”
“I already said, soul mates aren’t always the love of our lives. That man from Helena, his son may be his soul mate, but not the love of his life.”
Squeezing her temples, Liz let out a growl. “You are making my head hurt.”
Vivi Anne laughed. “I don’t mean to be, I’m just pointing out the facts.”
“Fine,” Liz said. “If Rance isn’t the love of my life or my soul mate, then what is he? Why do I care so much about him? Why do I care what happens to his property? It doesn’t make sense. I feel like I’m going crazy.”
“If you believe you are going crazy, then you are. Just like if you believe you don’t care about others, then you don’t, despite your actions.”
Liz jumped off the bed. “Stop. Just stop.”
“I’m only saying that whatever you believe, that is what you’ll manifest.”
After pacing the small space at the foot of the bed several times, Liz stopped. “So, if I stop believing that I’m seeing Rance, I will no longer see him?”
Vivi Anne shrugged.
Liz’s stomach tightened as a deep and very real fear settled there. “I don’t want to stop seeing him. I-I don’t know. Maybe I do love him. I know that sounds crazy, even to me, but it’s the only way I can explain how I feel about him. I’ve never felt this way about someone before. I’ve never cared this much about someone.”
“Then don’t stop.” Vivi Anne stood. “Just know, that once you believe, truly believe, you have to be prepared, and you have to be careful. If you decide Rance is your soul mate or the love of your life, are you willing to give up the possibility of ever finding a man who loves you with all his heart in this century?”
Liz wasn’t overly affected by that idea. “Maybe that person, that man, doesn’t exist.”
Vivi Anne shrugged. “Maybe he does.”
Frustration boiled inside her. “So you’re saying that Rance isn’t—
“I’m not saying anything,” Vivi Anne said. “He very well could be your soul mate. Soul mates are forever. We are reunited with them no matter how many times we are reborn.”
A shiver rippled Liz’s spine. “Why did you say that?”
“Because it’s true. Loves of our lives are only for our lifetime, soul mates are forever.”
Shivers raced up and down her arms. “Rance claims I’m Beth reborn.”
Even her painted-on eyebrows seemed to smile as Vivi Anne drew in a deep breath.
“I’m not,” Liz argued. “It’s not possible. I can’t believe that.”
“Yet, you can believe I’m a psychic, and I saw Otto’s car accident hours before it happened?”
Chapter Fifteen
Rance had tried blocking the woman’s path, had shouted and jumped up and down, and done anything he could think of to get her attention, but she ignored him.
Yes, ignored him.
She knew he was there. Every once in awhile, she grinned and shook her head. Especially when he’d shaken the mirror before her face.
Dressed in a tent-like outfit that was as colorful as a gypsy’s, she’d entered the house earlier today and roamed through every room, checked every closet, cupboard, and drawer. Afterward, she’d walked outside, and then re-entered.
“That’s my wife’s trunk,” he shouted, once again trying to block her path.
“I know.”
He stumbled backward. “I knew you could see me. Where did you get it? The trunk, where did you get it?”
“I can’t see you,” she said, “because I don’t want to. Therefore, I won’t.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Not really caring, he asked, “Where did you get that trunk?”
“Billings, Montana. I’m putting it back where it belongs.”
He followed her up the stairs. “Where’s Beth? Have you seen her? What century do you live in?”
“Are you always this friendly to intruders?” she asked before heading down the hallway.
He paused to scratch his tingling scalp. Suddenly, he knew who this person was. The friend Beth had told him about. She was exactly as Beth had described. He ran down the hall and right through the woman, which caused his insides to jolt and quiver momentarily. Stopping in the doorway to the bedroom, he braced both hands against the door jams to block her path. “Where is she? Where’s Beth? I know you know her.”
Smiling, the woman walked right through him.
The force that caused, though it wasn’t painful, made him buckle over for a moment. Cursing, he had to wait for his insides to collect themselves before he stood straight again and then spun around.
“Beth, as you know her,” the woman said, “Liz as I know her in the twenty-first century, is at the motel in Cody, sleeping after a night of trying to figure out what she believes and doesn’t believe.” She set the trunk on the floor near the foot of the bed. Where it had always sat. “I’m hoping this trunk being here will help her. Lord knows I didn’t want her to see it in the back of my truck.”
“Is she coming back?” Excitement raced through him. “I have to know, is she coming back?” He reached down to open the lid on the trunk. “I can help her believe. I know how.”
The woman sat down on the trunk. “Don’t open it. Let her.”
That hadn’t been necessary. His hand couldn’t grasp the lid. It went right through the wood, as if it wasn’t there anymore than this woman. Confused, he tried again. Nope. It wasn’t there in his time, much like the items Beth had brought with her. Her bags and such. “When is Beth coming?”
“Soon,” the woman said. “I have to leave now. Get back to the motel before Liz, Beth, wakes up.”
She’d stood and walked toward the door. Her gray hair was piled on top of her head by a big, odd looking hair clip, and her shirt held more colors than a rainbow. It reached almost to her knees, over the top of the skirt that swished around her feet. Exactly as Beth had described. Why could he see her, when he hadn’t been able to see Nate or Lou?
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Vivi Anne, Beth’s friend from the future.”
“I know that. She told me about you. But who are you? Why can I see you?”
She made no comment, which had his blood boiling. He followed her down the hall and the stair steps. “She’s mine. No matter what century you know her in, she’s my Beth. Mine.”
The woman turned around and smiled. “I’m not the one you need to convince of that, Rance. She is.”
He didn’t follow her out the door. There was no need. She was right. Beth is who he needed to convince. The one who needed to believe in him, in their love, and in herself. That was going to be the hardest part. The Beth he’d married had believed in herself, had the confidence of an acorn dropped onto the ground by the wind. She’d known she could grow into an oak tree and had. This Beth of the future didn’t hold that belief, and he didn’t know how to give it to her.
He did know it was possible though. If it was possible for Hiah to guide him in order to look inside himself, to see with his heart rather than his eyes, it was possible for Beth to do the same. To regain her confidence. To believe in herself again. To believe in love.
The sweat lodge he’d entered last night had been foreign to him, and he’d been skeptical. Although he couldn’t completely explain what had happened, how it had happened, Hiah had guided him on a rite of passage that left him with a deep and significant insight. When he’d left the lodge early this morning, he was not only wi
de awake, he was filled with understanding.
For some things.
Others were still unclear.
Like when Beth might appear.
Therefore, he didn’t want to leave the house. Couldn’t take the chance of not being right here when she arrived. The horses would be fine, they had access to water and feed. The chickens would have to find themselves some bugs today.
He made himself some coffee, and fried a couple of eggs later on, when his stomach growled, and then another pot of coffee.
In the midst of wondering if he’d wear out the floor boards, he practically tripped over his feet when Beth appeared just inside the door.
Catching his footing, he rushed to the table and grabbed the mirror. The sight of her filled him, and though he’d always felt that sensation, the love she’d planted inside him and nurtured its growth, this time it was stronger, more valid.
Because he believed.
A wave of sadness washed over the shine inside him. Her eyes were puffy, as if she’d spent hours crying.
As soon as she touched the mirror, he said, “I missed you.” He knew what he had to do, and swallowed an ounce of pride. “Liz.”
Her eyes widened. “What did you call me?”
“Liz. That’s your name, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but—”
“It’s a nice name.” Grinning, he said, “And is easy to rhyme.”
“What?” She frowned while shaking her head. “Rhyme?”
He was tripping over his own tongue, mainly because he was trying to make her smile. Grabbing words out of nowhere, he said, “Yes, like Liz is his, or when you get yourself all flustered, I can say, oh, oh, Liz is having a tiz.”
Her expression, a mixture of a scowl and a frown made him shrug at his behavior.
“Have you been drinking?”
“No, but I probably should have been,” he answered honestly. He’d had so much coffee, his piss was probably brown. He hadn’t noticed if it was or not when he’d relieved himself off the front porch a short time ago. He’ll go to his grave with that bit of information. Beth would be in a tizzy if she ever learned about it, but he hadn’t wanted to leave the house. This wasn’t about him, it was about her. All about her.
Beneath a Beating Heart Page 21
