Twist of Fate
The Pathfinder Series
Book One
Sheri L. Brown
Copyright © 2015 Outfox Digital Publishing
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
To those who inspired me along the path.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
About the Author
Chapter One
Claire had mixed feelings about the gift Regina just handed her for her eighteenth birthday. She already knew what it was by the weight and shape of it, but there wasn’t a reason to be unkind or ungrateful to her mother’s aunt for a gift she didn’t really want or need. They were standing at the open front door of Claire’s house when she relieved her aging relative of the gift-wrapped load in her outstretched arms and welcomed her into the foyer, simultaneously shaking the gift as a humorous expression over their mutual knowingness about what was inside.
Regina smiled, slid off her coat, kissed Claire on each cheek and in part Italian and part English said, “Buon compleano, my beautiful niece, I’m so glad I could be here for your birthday celebration.”
“Grazie, Zia Regina, I’m so glad you could be here,” Claire said as she returned the kisses.
Aunt Regina tapped the top of the wrapped package with extended fingers and winked, “And you could always use another one of these.”
Aunt Regina had been living in America for over sixty years, but she still spoke a combination of English and Italian. Claire begged her parents at an early age to let her study Italian. By the time she was in third or fourth grade, she had graduated from having bilingual English-Italian tea parties with her dolls and moved on to playing school with neighborhood friends that always included an Italian class along with a bilingual math class. When her friends played house and took care of their baby dolls, Claire would go on hiatus and tell her friends she was visiting her Aunt in Italy. Staying at home to make babies wasn’t something she could relate to from the time she could remember. Claire wanted to be in the world.
Claire appreciated her unique bond with Aunt Regina and looked forward to speaking with her each time she visited.
“Should I open it now?” Claire asked in Italian.
Regina smiled and wondered if her grand-niece would finally decide to commit herself to the Catholic Church. She hoped the gift would reinforce the possibility of choosing in Regina’s desired direction. It’s not that she didn’t appreciate Claire’s mixture of cultures and assorted pedigrees, in fact, she felt sorry for her in a way. It was much easier back in the day, Regina thought, when she was a girl coming from a big Catholic-Italian family. It was simple back then—having a choice wasn’t an option—you married an Italian and grew up with the church at the center of the family.
It was never Regina’s intention to nag her great-niece to become something her heart didn’t desire, but she had to put in the effort in some small way. She owed it to her family’s heritage and thought maybe someday Claire would want to commit, in a formal sense, to that particular branch of her family tree. Claire’s natural inclination for wanting to learn and speak Italian served to reinforce exactly what Regina had always hoped. Surely, Regina thought, this natural inclination would also include a lifelong commitment to the Church, not as a nun, by any means, just commit to being a devoted part of a congregation.
“Si, bella, open it now.”
They walked into the living room and sat down. Claire tried to make a big deal out of the gift in a genuine way. And it was a little bit of a big deal, Claire had to admit. She was turning eighteen and was on the verge of becoming a grown-up and a young woman—any gift would be received with gratitude to mark her special day.
She gently tore the wrapping paper open and inside, just as she had expected, was a Bible. But this time, this year, it was not the same kind of Book resembling the gifts from previous years. This Bible was bound in beautiful leather and contained a ribbon for page-marking that looked as if it were woven from gold.
“Wow, Zia, I know you give me a Bible every year for my birthday, but this is really beautiful. Thank you.”
Regina smiled and gently patted Claire on the leg, “Allora… mia cara, I know you have your Celtic-something heritage from your father and your Italian and Jewish heritage from your mother, but as you choose the path most right for you to worship, I want you to remember you can always come to this book….”
“Thank you, Zia, I’ll remember that.”
Regina smiled and chuckled a little to be certain Claire wasn’t feeling put upon, “Don’t forget you have the Old and New Testament in one book to pacify the majority of your elders and all the stories, you know, could make any Pagan… felice….”
“Si, happy, Zia,” Claire responded in agreement, “Ho capito, I understand, but I’m not quite sure if a Bible could make any Pagan happy. Besides, I doubt if anyone on Dad’s side of the family would call themselves a Pagan… they might have been Episcopalian or Presbyterian or something a long time ago… but a Pagan?”
Claire shrugged her shoulders and smiled. She really didn’t know all that much about her dad’s side of the family. It wasn’t because she wasn’t interested, Claire simply glommed onto her mother’s aunt for as long as she could remember. And although Zia Regina may have had the strongest influence on her, Claire also adored her mother’s mother, Rachel, Regina’s sister-in-law. They were only a few years apart in age, but were like night and day in so many ways and this had always intrigued Claire.
Zia had always acted old in a stereotypical grandmother sort of way. Her house was filled with items that could easily be considered antiques, simply by the virtue of them being around for so long, and her outfits looked the way a grandma typically looked—pastel cardigans she knitted herself with assorted colored animals and flowers embedded in the pattern, orthopedic shoes and cat-eye glasses which hung around Zia’s neck attached with a pearl chain. She had salt and pepper hair and had walked with a cane for as long as Claire could remember.
Rachel always looked a little old to Claire, but never acted old. And she certainly dressed as though she was aware of the latest trends, yet she had her own style. Rachel seemed to know exactly what was going on around her all the time. Sarah, Claire’s mother, always used to say Rachel was as sharp as a tack— among otha things— always emphasizing her words with an exaggerated New York accent and a faint smile. While Zia doled out big, warm hugs and kisses, Rachel was… significantly less soft. And she was adamant from the beginning that the girls call her Rachel and not Grandma, despite Sarah’s protests. It took Claire years to figure out Rachel was, in fact, her grandmother and Sara
h’s mother.
Claire was growing increasingly curious about her heritage as Zia Regina continued to talk. She wasn’t sure what her journey, spiritually or religiously— or much of anything else for that matter—would entail as she grew older, but she didn’t feel compelled to commit to anything despite being an official grown-up. She loved the Catholic religion, but she was feeling as though she needed to explore.
“Nah,” Regina’s voice brought Claire back to the conversation, “they might have dabbled in Christianity… but you come from a long line, an old line of… how would you say this in English… le streghe.”
Claire’s laughed at the absurdity of Regina’s suggestion and casually touched her aunt’s arm, “Dad’s relatives weren’t witches, Zia!”
Regina nodded without speaking. Her silence, as she and Claire both knew, spoke volumes. Claire didn’t ask anything else about her father’s possible Pagan relatives, deciding she didn’t want to find out what Regina may or may not have known, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious. She made a mental note to go straight to the source, Grandma Rose, her father’s mother. Claire knew her dad’s mother was Irish and she liked her whisky neat in the evenings, but beyond that, Grandma Rose never really spoke about her family or heritage. And she definitely didn’t speak about church or religion. Claire tapped her index finger on her chin and thought briefly about connecting with both Grandmas for more information. If she couldn’t manage it at her birthday party, she’d go to the City to see Rachel and drive to Albany to visit Grandma Rose. The brainstorming briefly gave her pause, but it was important to stay in the moment with Zia Regina. Claire’s investigative trip-planning could wait until tonight.
It didn’t matter that almost sixty years separated her from her great-aunt. Claire and Regina shared a deep connection that began as early as Claire could remember. Since Regina was so completely devoted to her faith, Claire often tagged along with her to church on Sundays in order to spend time with her. Claire’s early devotion to Catholicism came somewhat by circumstance. Regina was certain it was fate. Neither Earl nor Sarah had pushed her to attend weekly Mass, but by the time Claire was ten she had begged her parents to be baptized and make her communion in the church. Over time, Claire had fallen in love with the rituals and the Priest, Father Robert, who was the kindest man she had ever known next to her father. He looked as though he was always ecstatic, riding the waves of higher consciousness and ready to lift his parishioners up with light and love. It wasn’t about being Catholic, Claire decided, it was having a certain knowingness. He was genuine. She could see it in his eyes and feel it in his hugs. He was a formidable and loving presence.
It was true that Claire’s original draw toward formal religion was mostly inspired by her intrinsic need to be a part of her Great-Aunt’s life, but it was more than that. She felt like she had known Regina before, in another time and place, and she was incredibly happy to be with her again. By the age of three or four, Claire began telling her parents, rather unabashedly and in elaborate detail, about events and circumstances she had shared with Aunt Regina that weren’t remotely connected to what Claire had ever done. Earl and Sarah didn’t dissuade their daughter from telling these stories, certain it was a passing phase in her development; but they didn’t encourage it, either. By the time Claire had completed grade school, the ‘fantasy vacations’, as Sarah had dubbed them, simply went away on their own. But Sarah often wondered about the potential veracity of her daughter’s tales and occasionally suggested to Earl that maybe she knew something they didn’t.
“Maybe her stories are… esoteric in nature, Earl,” Sarah would say alone in their bedroom at night, “maybe she knows something we don’t.”
Earl neither agreed nor disagreed, most often shrugging his shoulders at his wife’s suggestions. He wasn’t sure what Sarah was getting at exactly. Always a pragmatist, the conversation made Earl a little uncomfortable.
He would offer the same reply to his wife each time, “Some kids have imaginary friends, Sarah, and our kid has imaginary vacations with your aunt. It might just be that simple, dear.”
Sarah’s intuition told her otherwise. She couldn’t dismiss there was a possibility Claire had known her Aunt Regina from another time. She couldn’t help but think, in the moments of examining her own skepticism and beliefs, that there was indeed an equal possibility that the stories were either coming from a child’s mind stuck in creative overdrive or that Claire saw things the rest of the family did not. Sarah knew in her own life how she felt deep connections with certain people. There was no reason to discount the possibility of knowing someone from another time and place. Her eldest daughter was gifted, that much was true, and Sarah decided the easiest way to handle the revelation would be simply to watch it unfold.
Time passed and as Claire got older, the stories became more infrequent. Sarah silently mourned when Claire no longer spoke of her past lives with Regina. She saw it as a sign her oldest daughter was growing up—becoming further removed from the psychic umbilical cord connecting her to whatever the ‘other side’ happened to be.
Claire opened the cover of The Book and noticed a hand-written message from her aunt: Let the light and love of God be with you always, my child. R.
She read it out loud and paused before looking at Regina, “Thank you… such simple words that I don’t take lightly.”
Regina hugged her niece, “I’m just saying, it’s never too late to make your confirmation, that’s all.”
Claire sighed and deliberately moved her gaze from Regina’s. She should have made her confirmation the summer before her ninth grade year, but she missed the date to sign up for the fall confirmation class. Oddly enough, when she finally spoke to the couple in charge of the school at church, Claire was told it was too late. Surely, Claire thought, they could bend the rules just a little, but they didn’t. They wouldn’t. It was a harsh lesson for Claire and she never talked to Zia about how devastating it was for her. In fact, Claire never let Zia in on the circumstances around not making her confirmation. She was afraid Zia would pull some strings in the church and force the couple to let her participate. Instead, Claire pretended she needed a break from the Catholic Church for a while. She had simply told Zia her other extracurricular activities were keeping her too busy.
So when her church friends were choosing their second middle names for their big confirmation day, Claire would avoid their line of questioning about why she decided not to partake in the spiritual rite of passage. She eventually stopped talking to them completely and found a new set of friends. She was sure Jesus would have bent the rules for a young teenage girl who wanted to commit herself and perhaps more importantly, her soul, to the Catholic Church, but somehow it wasn’t meant to be. It was Claire’s first lesson in seeing how people in charge, how people with a small sense of power, could do damage to a young person without batting an eye.
Claire smiled, “When and if I decide I should be a committed, practicing Catholic, you’ll be the first to know. How’s that, Zia?”
“That would be wonderful, but no pressure, dear,” Regina said, in a genuine tone of voice.
Regina knew times had changed and she was wise enough to let Claire be free-thinking and unencumbered by any old-fashioned expectations. She adored her great-niece and that’s what mattered most.
“Do you do this with everyone in the family, Zia? Give them Bibles on their birthdays with the hope you’ll convert them?”
Regina chuckled and answered, “Well, I used to, you know… everyone in the family has at least one from me. But in these modern times, everyone is going off in their own spiritual direction, I suppose. So, you’re the only one I still… come si dice?… harass. You offer me the most hope.”
Claire leaned into her aunt and hugged her tightly. She kneeled down in front of her, looked in her eyes and smiled before she spoke.
“Whatever I choose for myself, you have given me a unique gift, Zia…”
“Si, and what is
that dear?” Regina asked with hope in her eyes.
“Whatever I choose and however I live, I will always have faith. I will always strive to be kind and conscious… I will always have my memories of us going to church and appreciating… the rituals involved.”
Regina beamed as she spoke, distracted by Claire’s trailing words, “Ah… the rituals. I do love the rituals—the sitting and the kneeling and the incense… the gospel and Holy Communion... wishing love and peace for our neighbors…ahhh… the rituals.”
Claire paused. She watched as Regina’s eyes glazed over as she thought about the romantic notion of Catholic rituals, but there were more important things to discuss and Claire was compelled to bring them up now. She knew if she talked to Regina about their time together in past lives it could potentially freak her out, but she had to know if Regina felt the same way or that maybe, just maybe, she knew on some level deep within her soul that their connection existed through time.
“I feel like I’ve always known you, Zia.”
It was the best statement Claire could muster.
“You have always known me, my dear, I was there the day you were born,” Regina smiled, “eighteen years ago today.”
Claire smiled despite the possibility of the conversation coming to a dead-halt, “No, I mean, yes, I know I’ve always known you in this lifetime, but I feel like I’ve known you in other lifetimes, too.”
“Ah, the age-old question that Catholics have certainly pondered,” Regina leaned in toward Claire and whispered in her ear, “I can’t help but feel I’ve known you, too, but it’s not a part of God’s Word.”
“Well, I thought if I told you, you’d think I was crazy… I’m so happy you’re okay with what I’m saying. So, you believe in the possibility, Zia, but can’t believe it at the same time?”
“Oh, dear, when we get older our views sometimes change, does it matter what it says in the Bible if you feel it in your heart? The words on those pages connect us to a Higher Power, but you have that connection right here.”
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