Loving You (Remembrance Series, Book 2)

by Cynthia P. O'Neill

  When it was time for dinner, we asked Anderson for his suggestions for food. He told us that he had already made reservations for us at one of the local pizza parlors. “The place is located not too far from the Delaware River and is inside of one of the historic buildings in the area. It has been featured on several cooking shows and has the best thin crust pizza in the state.”

  We drove the short distance to Italia Tacarella. I was thankful Anderson had the foresight to make reservations because the place was packed with a waiting line out the door. I had never experienced that type of thing at a pizza place before. This must be some pretty good stuff. We offered Anderson the invitation to join us, but he declined—just as he had with lunch.

  He had reserved two pizza pies for us, along with a wonderful chopped Italian salad to share. It was amazing how fast the pizza came out. We put in our order for the toppings, and five minutes later, we were eating.

  The pizza was melt in your mouth fantastic and we gorged, clearing our plates. It was the most food I had eaten in months. “I’m glad to see you have your appetite back,” Gregory announced with a smile. “I hate seeing you pick at your food when you need your strength.”

  I laughed a bit. “Feed me pizza like this and I’ll definitely eat it all up.”

  We had hoped there would still be some daylight outside when we finished eating, so we could walk along the riverbank of the Delaware and take in some of the sights. Unfortunately, the sun had already set and we were both feeling a bit tired from such an early start to the day.

  Anderson took us back to the Inn for the night and set up a time to meet us in the morning. We explained that our appointment wasn’t until late tomorrow afternoon, but he suggested taking in some of the historic sites, while we were in town. We decided he was right, and agreed to a mid-morning rendezvous.

  We quickly changed and settled into bed. I was tired and fighting sleep, while Gregory was restless. After a while, he got up and started pacing the floor, looking over every inch of the room, before focusing on the writing desk, nestled close to the window.

  I watched in fascination as he pulled the chair out, sat down and began to fiddle with different parts of the desk. “What are you doing, Gregory?”

  He looked up with a bemused smile. “I think I remember something.”

  “What?”

  His face spread with his half quirky grin. “Watch! Dad’s legal work sometimes required him to have desks with hidden passages.”

  I sat there stunned as he pushed the center carving on one of the tops of the legs and it gave way. You could hear something shift behind the piece of furniture. He moved his hand toward the back of the desk, where he turned a square, detailed fixture and more noise could be heard.

  I was transfixed as I watched him move back and forth pushing, twisting and pulling different areas of the desk, before a hidden passage was revealed. He reached in and pulled out a thin leather pouch, covered with dust.

  He opened the pouch carefully and pulled out a bundle of letters. They were all aged and had once been sealed with a family crest stamped into wax on the back. I looked over and recognized the crest belonging to my own family, the Clark’s.

  He looked up at me, with wonder. “I think these are the letters you wrote to me as Hannah.”

  We turned on the lights and began to go through each one of the letters. He was right, they were the notes I had written to Aaron. I recognized my own penmanship and saw a brilliant yellow aura surrounding them. I could feel the love for him that I had let flow outwardly onto the paper.

  There was one that stood out amongst the letters spread out on the bed. I was afraid to touch it because the crest was slightly off and the aura surrounding it was hinged with red and black. My curiosity got the best of me and I reached for it, but instantly I felt my hand burning.

  Gregory opened the letter, realizing we might have part of our mystery in front of us. The letter was supposedly from me, but the crests were off and the penmanship, while close, wasn’t quite right. It read:

  “This has to be the reason you left the house that night. I remember some of the notes that I sent you, but I am certain I didn’t send that one. The handwriting is slightly off, see?”

  Gregory held me close. “I can almost bet you got a similar note, in my writing and supposedly from me, that stated much the same thing. We keep falling for the same set up over and over. If only there was some way we could remember it and avoid it in the future.”

  I begged to differ. “I don’t know if you sent a note; however, I did receive word that Rebecca wanted to make amends and provide us a present that night. She asked that I meet her by the river after dinner.”

  One of his arms held me tighter, as the other lifted my chin to look at him. He leaned in for a kiss that deepened and left me breathless. He pulled back for a moment, taking in a deep breath, “I can’t lose you, again. I don’t know how many lives I can live through, where we come so close, but fell so far. This time around, only a few will know the exact date of our wedding and we will not be alone the night before it happens, superstition be damned.”

  I reached my hands around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. “I’ll do whatever it takes to break this stupid cycle. My heart already aches for what I’ve lost both in the past and the present.”

  We spent several more minutes reassuring one another with kisses and warm embraces, before placing the notes back into their secret hiding place. Gregory finally slipped into bed, pulling me close to him as we drifted off.

  I had hoped he would steer our dreams toward wedding plans and honeymoon locations, but darkness shrouded us, instantly. The cackle of the familiar witch blasted through the air. I looked over as shapes began to materialize and saw Aaron strapped to a chair, perched high above the river. I tried to move toward him but found myself secured with ropes, as well, hovering at the water’s edge. Our reflections were not our own, but those of Rebecca and Nathaniel. The crowd, once again, was held tight within a magic spell, seeing only what they were allowed, as the true Rebecca paraded amongst them cast in my own image.

  The amulet, though covered, glowed through the layers of Rebecca’s clothing. I knew it allowed her to change form and shift into whatever image she desired; but did it contain enough power to hold the townspeople in a trance or was there a darker force at work?

  “Make them confess their traitorous crimes against the colony,” she shouted out, as the colonists cheered her on.

  Several men held tight to beams affixed to the chair and began to plunge us toward the river. “Hold your breath, my dearest.” I heard Aaron shout, before being slammed into the water. I inhaled sharply, before hitting the water.

  My lungs were burning as the air slowly escaped them. I felt the water lift away from me. “Are you ready to confess?” Rebecca shouted.

  I was beyond furious. “Confess to what, witch? You are the one parading around here in another’s form. What deviltry has befallen you? I have done nothing but uphold the laws of the colonists. I want only freedom from England and King George.”

  “Save your breath my darling, Hannah. Some form of evil has the crowd entranced to hear whatever she wills them to. No matter what we say, they will only hear a confession from us.” Aaron sounded defeated, but he was right. The crowd seemed to anger at my words and we were instantly dunked, again.

  “Stop this absurdity, Right Now!” A distant voice rang out.

  We both bolted upright in bed, gasping for air and drenched in sweat from the nightmarish path our dreams had taken. Gregory held me tightly to his chest. “Are you alright?” I was unable to speak, still trying to gain control of my breathing, so I only nodded.

  We held each other tight, as our breathing began to slow and we tried to make sense of our dreams. I was finally able to talk. “I think some of our answers will be found down at the river. I just hope some of the landmarks from these dreams still exist.”

  We both woke up as the morning light was starting to se
ep in through the curtains; so we decided to shower and get ready for a busy day. We both felt compelled to go to the river, but knew our morning and afternoon did not allow with set visitors hours for the historic area. So, our plans included meeting up with my distant aunt after lunch and some sight-seeing of the Independence Square this morning, in hopes of jogging our memories. The visit to the river would have to wait until this afternoon, for which I was glad. I wasn’t sure I was ready to handle what we might find there.

  Ms. Norris had a lovely breakfast spread waiting for the guests that morning. We visited a few minutes and when she found out we were history buffs, she recommended a shop, just a few blocks outside of the tourist district that specializes in rare and unusual historic artifacts. She also mentioned that it had a small café attached that served a wide variety of tapas. She handed me a pamphlet and I was surprised by the glowing aura surrounding it.

  Since we were only a few blocks from Independence Hall, we decided to walk and have Anderson pick us up there around lunchtime, to take us to the cafe and treasure shop prior to our meeting with my Aunt Destiny. The walk not only helped to stretch my legs, but it also helped clear my mind.

  My feeling of déjà vu was everywhere as we made our way around the historical sites. When we were outside of Independence Hall, I recalled the Second Continental Congress meeting, when war was declared against England. “Do you remember being here when George Washington was elected Commander in Chief of The Continental Army?” I asked Gregory and he nodded in response.

  We elected to stand in line to look at the encased Liberty Bell before taking a tour of Independence Hall. The memories just kept flooding back. When we were in front of the bell, Gregory leaned in, laughing a bit, and whispered, “Do you ever recall a time that this bell wasn’t cracked? It looks the same as it did years ago; and still carries so much meaning to it.” I was thankful to learn that I wasn’t the only one having fond recollections of the era and enjoying the irony of things.

  As we were letting out from the tour of the Hall, we heard Anderson call to us from the curb. We headed in his direction and instantly took off in the direction of my Aunt Destiny’s house, located just outside the historic district on the upper west side of town, in search of the shop in the pamphlet, to eat lunch.

  Anderson pulled up to the small café and it looked promising. Inside it was much bigger than I expected, with a small area sectioned off for people to feast on various tapas, pastries and beverages. The rest of the shop had an eclectic mix of books, antiques and other interesting items for sale and on display.

  Gregory wasn’t happy when I had told him that I wasn’t very hungry. “I’ll get us a mix of things to split and you can eat what you want.”

  I could tell he was about to argue with me. “We have dinner plans with your Grandfather, tonight. I promise I’ll try to eat better, then. I just have some nerves about meeting my great aunt for the first time.”

  He pulled me into a quick embrace. “No matter what she tells us and no matter what happens on this trip, we will get through all of this together. I’ll always be here for you.” I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and opted to look around the shop while he got our food.

  For some strange reason, one area of the shop seemed to call to me. I walked over, feeling pulled in the specific direction. I ended up at a display case looking down at a small simple wooden box that seemed familiar and had a white aura about it.

  “Would you care to look at anything?” A soft voice spoke from behind the counter. I jumped, not expecting anyone to be there.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She stated. “I’ll leave you to continue looking. My name is Karma, if you need anything.”

  She turned to leave. “Karma, that’s such a pretty name.” I glanced up at her and was transfixed by the white glow surrounding her golden hair and tall, thin frame.

  “Thank you.” She smiled. “My parents are fans of the hippie era, so they named me by how they felt when they first met– like an act of Karma.”

  How she got her name was interesting, but I felt it had deeper meaning than what it seemed. “I’d like to look at that wooden box, please.” I pointed to the one in the display.

  “Are you sure you want to look at that old thing?”

  “Yes. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “It’s just a piece of wood, nothing special really. We’ve tried taking it to different places to see if we can get the box open, since we can tell there’s something inside, but no one can figure it out. It has been in the shop for as long as I can remember.” When I looked puzzled, she continued. “This place has been in my family for over 75 years. We’ve had this box in our possession for that long and no one has ever expressed an interest in it. We have all tried to get rid of the box, but somehow it makes its way back to the store and back on display in the same area. Eventually we gave up on it and just considered that it was supposed to be part of the shop.”

  I watched as she pulled the box from the display and handed it to me. The weight of it was oddly familiar. I had an instant vision of myself, as Hannah, in my bedroom, holding the same box. “How much are you asking?” I wondered, hoping she would let it go for a small price.

  “I know the box is pretty old; but no one has ever expressed an interest in it, until today. How does $25 sound?”

  I would have paid many times that amount to have it. I needed to know what mystery it held. “Deal.”

  Karma’s eyes lit up. “Seriously?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “I have to admit, I almost offered you money just to take it off my hands.” She snickered.

  I pulled out my debit card and handed it to her, as she wrapped the box in tissue and placed it in a sales bag. I looked back and noticed how perfect my timing was; Gregory was just sitting down with our food.

  “What do you have there?” he asked.

  “It’s a box of some sort, not really sure how it works; but I think it may have belonged to Hannah. When I held it, I got a vision of her holding the same box. I figure I can look into it later, today.” I looked at the food he had selected, which looked yummy. “Everything smells wonderful. I guess I could eat a little bit.”

  He leaned in to give me a quick kiss on the lips. “You need to eat more than just a small amount. We have a long day ahead and you promised your mother, and me, that you would keep up your strength.”

  We arrived at Aunt Destiny’s quaint little cottage and I was a nervous wreck. The exterior reminded me of an old tavern or inn. A pleasant looking woman, in her late-sixties, opened the door and instantly greeted both of us with hugs. I knew that she would be one to help us, as her aura glowed a bright white, with hints of yellow. Pure and safe.

  “It is so good to finally meet you both. Please come in and let’s have some refreshments while we talk.” She was quick to usher us inside, to her living room, as she offered us some iced tea and cookies.

  The room was decorated with a variety of historical treasures, and I wondered if they were family heirlooms passed down through the generations. On a side table was small vintage photo frame with oil portrait that caught my eye.

  “I see you’ve honed in on some of the founding Clark family members.” She looked back at the painting, taking in the picture of my parents and me and then glanced back at me with a bewildered look upon her face.

  “Sorry to stare, dear, but the resemblance between you and the girl in this picture is uncanny. It’s obvious you are a member of our family, the genes must have been passed down through the ages.” She smiled warmly at me. “I just wish my husband had lived long enough to meet you. For several years, we had been searching the genealogical charts to try and trace our roots, both past and present. We stumbled across your name late last year, but Harold took a turn for the worse, with his heart, and our hunt was put on hold.”

  I’m glad she doesn’t know just how close the relation is. “I’m sorry for your loss. I would have loved the opportunity to get to know m
ore about Uncle Harold; but I’m happy we can at least get to know one another and maybe piece together some information about our family, together.” I offered.

  A warm smile spread across my aunt’s face, as she moved the refreshments from the coffee table and produced a small key. Gregory and I both looked at each other, wondering what on earth the table could hold, because it looked so thin.

  We watched as she inserted the key into the front and sides of the furniture before opening the lid. To our amazement, the coffee table was all an optical illusion. She motioned us forward to help her lift some of the boxes from the deep interior.

  We were about to ask about the trickery, when Destiny enlightened us. “The Clark family history has been sacredly guarded throughout time. Back in Pre-Revolutionary times, the history wasn’t as accurately kept as it is now and there were those set to destroy any links to certain lineages. We don’t quite know why this happened, so we set out to keep our family’s past alive and well by hiding our documents from the untrained eye.”

  Gregory spoke up. “Who would want to wipe out a family’s history?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know; but just last week, I had a break-in. Nothing was stolen, but the house had been wrecked in an attempt to find something. My only guess is that they were looking for historical documents.”

  “Why would you assume that?”

  “Just recently, The Clark House, which is on the Historical Registry and belonged to Dr. Joseph Clark, one of the first physicians in the area and who worked with some of the more notable politicians of his time to fund healthcare for the poor, had an arson attack. I had hoped to take you there for a visit, but the place is corded off, pending an investigation and to see whether it can be salvaged.”

  She went on. “The Williams house, which is now the Norriston Inn, has been having its share of problems with sprinkler system malfunctions. It has also had a couple of kitchen fires and numerous other incidents over the past week.”