“I have a gift for you as well—a rare 2003 vintage from one of my favorite vineyards,” Remus said, speaking with a faint Indo-European accent that I couldn’t quite place. Slavic, perhaps —like Rochus?
I admired the label—Davino Domaine Ceptura. “This is Romanian, right?” I asked.
“Da,” Remus answered in a surprised tone. “You’re very worldly, I see.”
I smiled and shrugged. Having been a librarian I was always researching the oddest things. I found the Roma culture fascinating. Cullen had been asked to restore a castle there soon and I really wanted to tag along.
“Is that where you’re from? Romania? I met a girl once while travelling in France—she called herself a gypsy and told me the most amazing stories. She’d lived near this vineyard for a time.”
The Doctor looked at his wife strangely and then smiled back at me, ushering her into the entryway. “I haven’t lived there since I was a young man—I thought I did a better job of hiding my accent.”
I wondered if I’d said something taboo. Some people were sensitive and many people associated Roma culture with being thieves and liars—although Remus hardly resembled either; he looked more like a politician—which was, coincidentally enough, a group of people with a similar reputation. Zing. Glad I hadn’t said that aloud.
“Let me take your coats and then we can head into the dining room. I’ve got a bottle of shiraz breathing right now but we can dip into this next.”
“Where’s Cullen?” Sandra questioned.
“Upstairs in the shower. He went for a dip in the hot tub about an hour ago—his neck was bothering him. He should be down any minute, and Alana’s off to that concert with Leslie but I think I already mentioned that.”
“You did,” she said handing me her heavy red coat. “Would you look at those diamond-paned windows—and that brass chandelier—so whimsical—reminds me of another cottage.”
“Snow White’s? I thought the same thing when I first stepped through the door and saw the peaked arches. I keep waiting for Sleepy and Dopey to show up but I’m afraid I’m on my own there.”
Sandra nodded but stared off into the distance, ignoring my attempt at humor. Humph. Leslie would have laughed.
“Cullen lived here when I met him so I can’t take credit for anything aside from furniture, pillows and possibly a painting or two.”
“That’s an interesting painting of the castle over the fireplace. Where did you get it?”
“Do you like it? Our daughter, Alana, painted it. She said she saw it in a dream. Cullen loves it. Personally, I find the castle a touch creepy but I couldn’t resist hanging it. She’s just so talented. She’s working on the most adorable cottage for the bookstore, sort of a witches theme.”
Sandra reached her hand up and ran her finger along the canvas.
“I want to buy them all.”
“That’s very sweet but we couldn’t possibly part with them. I’ll ask Alana though and maybe she’ll paint you something new.”
“I want this castle. Tell her to name her price.”
I cleared my throat, uncomfortable with Sandra’s pushiness.
“Cullen’s an architect, correct?” the Doctor asked, changing the subject.
I turned back around appreciatively. “Yes, he loves old houses, buildings, anything from the past, especially castles.”
“She’s bang on,” Cullen said, stepping into the room from the opposite end. “What can I say? To me, old houses might as well be ancient Temples. I even like the smell when I open up the walls: the distinctive musty aroma of history.”
He was wearing snug grey jeans with suspenders that hung from the waist, accompanied by a fitted, long-sleeve shirt that put his muscles on display in a way that made me gulp. He already had a pint of Guinness in his hand. That was my Irish lad.
“And you must be the infamous Cullen,” Sandra said, beaming at him from in front of the fireplace.
Cullen strode the rest of the way across the living room and held out his hand.
Sandra smiled at the gesture and pulled him in for a big hug. The doctor and I exchanged a look.
“Cullen feels about architecture how I feel about books,” I interjected with a laugh, “I guess that’s why we get along. We both love our relics.”
“And soon we’ll become them,” Remus added, joining in on the fun.
“Yes, but hopefully not too soon,” Sandra said with a mock pout. “I’ve only just gotten rid of my wrinkles.”
You could say that again.
“I think ye look grand,” Cullen said, managing to wrestle himself out of her grip.
Sandra’s eyes lit up and I smirked. Cullen had charmed yet another woman.
“There’s food on the table. Please join me in the dining room.”
The doctor promptly followed me and took a seat. “What kind of cheese is this?” He inquired.
I eyeballed the platter to make sure I wasn’t missing anything: cured meats, cheese, nuts, fruit and preserves. Nope. Got it all. “That’s sharp Cheddar. There’s also Edam, Gouda and this one is St. Nectaire,” I popped a wedge of the nutty, creamy cheese into my mouth.
“This looks delicious, Sophia. I’ll have to chain myself to the treadmill,” Sandra said with a laugh. I was happy to see her back to normal. That painting had made her weird for a moment.
“And it’s just the beginning. I hope you like pasta. It’s the only dish I can manage.”
“It’s savage like all of her cooking,” Cullen said, pouring wine in all of our glasses. “Sophia is a modest gal.”
“Isn’t she though—some people never change,” Sandra said. Had I detected a snarky tone?
“No, people don’t change but they do evolve and grow,” the Doctor added in.
“Yes, and thank heavens for that. Speaking of which, Cullen, I see you have a beard now which I don’t see in any of your other family photos. Is this the latest trend? I’ve noticed much of the young men in the Dublin coffee shops sporting the look,” Sandra asked.
“Ah, it does seem to be popular with the lads these days—that and those beanie hats. I can’t say I’m quite as hip, just lazy and taking a week off from shavin’. I’ll be right as rain Monday morning before my flight. Can’t have the clients thinking I’m a manky scab.”
“Just the company, huh?” I teased.
Sandra chuckled, “hardly—not with those eyes, and that commanding bone structure. Perhaps an important military leader or a ruthless ruler—but never as you so eloquently put it, ‘a manky scab.’”
I didn’t bother to ask what being a ruthless ruler and having attractive features had to do with each other. Sandra had never met Cullen before so I was surprised by her apparent infatuation with him—although he did have that effect on women.
The oven timer went off and I went to get up.
“Sit, my love, I’ve got it.”
I smirked.
Saved by the bell, I thought as Cullen headed into the kitchen. He wasn’t good with flattery, no Irishman really liked compliments or at least they didn’t know what to do with them. This I had discovered after several awkward conversations.
He returned to the table a couple of minutes later with the final dish, removing its lid and releasing the smell of penne and sausage mingled with sautéed garlic and peppers. It wreaked havoc on my taste buds.
“That’s everything,” I said, dishing out the pasta to our guests first. “Please dig in.” I sat down and sprinkled some chili peppers onto my bowl. “Oh, no, I lied. I almost forgot the water.” I said jumping up and heading back into the kitchen.
“So, Remus, I hear ye’re a doctor,” Cullen commented. “Ye do a serious amount of nips and tucks, do ye?”
“Not quite. I’m a psychotherapist,” Remus corrected before taking his first bite.
“A head doctor, really? I thought Sophia said ye were a plastic surgeon.”
I shook my head and smirked at Cullen, walking back into the dining room. Then I slid an apologetic
glance at Sandra, who was staring so intently at Cullen that I was pretty sure she hadn’t even noticed the oversight.
Cullen chuckled. “God love ye. Got yer work cut out for ye tonight. So, what exactly does a psycho—” Cullen paused, whether to tease the doctor or to take care to get it right, I couldn’t be sure, “—therapist do?”
Remus glared at Cullen and then lifted his gaze to me. “Actually I specialize in past-life regression therapy.”
I felt a flutter of excitement in my stomach and dropped the water pitcher I was holding. Water splashed up my legs and leaked out onto the hardwood floor of the dining room.
“Sophia, are ye well, darlin’?” Cullen asked.
“Yes, yes. I’m fine,” I said, running in and back out of the kitchen, tea towel in hand.
“Ye want help?” Cullen asked.
I shook my head. “Carry on.”
I pressed my lips together, my arm quivering as I finished sopping up the water.
“How is dinner, by the way?” I said, taking my seat.
The doctor leaned over and took another bite of the bruschetta—a sprinkle of seasoned goat cheese tumbled from the corner of his mouth. “Where are my manners? I should have mentioned it’s delicious. As you can tell, I’m halfway finished and we’ve only just started.”
My stomach growled loudly as I took a bite of the spicy penne.
Sandra was another case altogether; she’d barely touched her food. She was too busy alternating between her wine and my husband. Cullen didn’t seem to notice the attention or at least he didn’t mind it. They were chatting about everything from Cullen’s work to his fitness routine. Sandra was fascinated and hung on his every word. I’d overheard her mention twice now that he reminded her of her son so I’d stopped being weirded out by her.
I turned to the doctor, “So, how long have you been doing regression therapy?”
“Ah, I’ve been practicing hypnotism for almost fifteen years. The regression became the main focus about six years ago. Are you a skeptic?”
My heart beat faster, thinking of everything I’d been through. How could I even begin to explain? I averted my eyes. “I’m not sure what I am.”
Cullen gave me a funny look and then piped up. “I saw a hypnotist once down at the local—it was good craic—convincing the lads to act a maggot.”
“You mean a gag show? Those are a bit different from what I do,” the doctor commented. His brows creased together as he set down his fork. “All the same, I was once a skeptic too.”
“Really?” I enquired. “What changed your mind?”
“A window washer with a fear of heights.”
“Well, now, that seems arsebackwards.” Cullen chuckled, finishing off his glass in addition to his plate.
“Doesn’t it though? It was a family-owned business and he was shoehorned in. He wanted to be hypnotized to forget his fear. During our session his past life presented itself. I’ve found regression therapy to be a very powerful tool, especially in healing phobias and physical ailments. In traditional psychotherapy, when someone recalls an event, trauma or other experience from the past – usually from childhood – it causes a healing of symptoms. Past-life therapy does the same,” he said.
“Ye lost me there.” Cullen frowned. “Must be the black stuff,” he said, shaking his empty glass to and fro.
“I’ll grab the dessert,” I chimed in. “Would everyone like coffee or tea?”
“I’ll just stick with the vino,” said Sandra.
Remus flushed. “Coffee, please, for me.”
I returned with a tray of mini cheesecakes and coffee and settled back in. Cullen and the doctor were still discussing hypnosis and its benefits.
“Take your stiff neck for example. Do you get neck pain often?”
“I don’t. Sophia does though.”
“He’s right. I do—and headaches,” I said, curious to hear the doctor’s point.
“If I were to treat you, we might find out you had your neck snapped in another century.”
Sandra spit out her first bite of cheesecake. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I had to cough. Honey, do you think we’ve had enough shop talk for tonight.”
I swallowed hard. He had said it innocently enough but the thought bothered me and Cullen, too. He shifted in his seat. I knew his body language. He was not fond of this man.
“Emotional disorders, phobias and psychological disorders can also be treated this way. We have seen people get rid of anxieties and fears. We also see the fear of death diminishing because people are finding out they don’t die,” Remus said. “During a past-life regression, the client is taken through past lives, and then to the end of each life, where many report floating above their bodies and seeing a bright light,” Remus noted. “They start to see their current relationships differently, as many discover they are reunited with a soul mate from a previous life. I’m sorry. I’m rambling.”
Sandra turned to me, “He’s very passionate about his work. That’s what makes him so good.”
I stopped eating. “Can you tell when someone has lived before?”
“In some cases,” he said and took off his glasses, polishing them with a cloth from his pocket.
I took a deep breath. “Can you tell by looking at me?”
He put his glasses back on and stared at me, holding my gaze for a while, until I dropped my eyes and looked away.
“I think you have been on this earth before, yes.”
I felt my skin prickle. “How can you tell?”
He shrugged. “It’s an instinct…not to mention my lovely wife here told me about you. You’re the reason we met. I guess I should thank you,” he said, taking Sandra’s hand in his own.
I suddenly felt very exposed. “Told you what about me?” I asked, my voice stiff.
Sandra must have picked up on my tone. She sighed, giving the doctor a chastened look and set down her fork, “I hope that’s okay, Sophia.”
I pursed my lips still waiting to hear just how much she’d told him, thinking it was not okay at all.
“I’ll get the coffee.” Cullen said, escaping to the kitchen.
Sandra made a face and lowered her voice so that it was barely audible. “It would have been nice if Remus had allowed me to bring that up but anyway … After our last reading, everything changed. I didn’t feel the same about being a medium anymore. No one took me seriously and they were almost always frustrated that I couldn’t give more...and then you appeared. You were different.”
“I can understand that,” I said, switching from the wine to the coffee Cullen had just poured me.
“I saw an ad for one of Remus’s five-day training seminars. That’s where he lectures and teaches exercises. My mind was open and I was ready to explore the past and my gifts in a whole new way, so I signed up and, long story short, we recognized something in each other. Something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Now I travel with him and we help people together.”
“And your son, where is he?” I asked, offering up a weak smile
Sandra went white.
“You said you have a son, right? Did I hear that correctly?”
“We don’t,” the doctor corrected. “Sandra lost a son, but that was before my time.”
“He was stolen from me,” Sandra added bitterly.
“He died.” The doctor clarified. “It’s very upsetting for Sandra but it’s part of her past and we’re working on it.”
“I’m sorry. Of course,” I said. “I’ve actually been thinking a lot about my own past recently.”
“Really? Well if you wanted to revisit anything we could try after dinner,” the Doctor added in.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Cullen said, getting up to answer his cellphone that was now on its third ring. He spoke quietly and then turned to me. “Sorry, Aeval, it’s about that new project—the Castle in Romania.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll be less than 30 minutes.”
I sighed, doing very little to hide my ann
oyance.
He bit his lip and narrowed his eyes. “I know this is rude. I’ll be back in two shakes of a lambs tail. I promise.”
“Go ahead,” Sandra announced loudly before I could offer any further disapproval.
Cullen looked back to me.
I forced a smile, aware that all eyes were on me. “Sure, honey.”
The minute Cullen was gone, Sandra turned to me with a mischievous grin. “Well, now, what shall we do to entertain ourselves while he’s busy with work?” Sandra looked from her husband and then back to me. “Do you want to go under?”
I felt a sharp stab under my ribs. I just wasn’t sure whether it was excitement, apprehension, or simply indigestion from all of the garlic.
The Doctor smiled. “Let’s not get our hopes up—you know hypnosis is a complicated thing. I may not even be able to regress her the first couple of times. It’s a process.”
I chewed on that for a moment. I had the feeling I was being baited like a fish but I was feeling bold. It had been so long since I’d been on an adventure. Besides, I really wasn’t a patient person. Sandra knew this about me and if it was going to take multiple sessions then maybe I should start now.
Sandra leaned forward and topped up my wine.
“Well?” She asked.
“All right, let’s do it,” I agreed.
“Perfect. Into the living room we go,” she said, grabbing my hand. “Take a seat in the recliner.” Sandra said.
Dr. Remus Ceaușescu walked to the couch and took a seat. “Just relax and close your eyes.”
I felt my panic flutter. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do it.”
“It’s all right. Let’s just try a little exercise to loosen you up.”
I nodded.
“Close your eyes and envision a small, glowing white ball. Now, I want you to send that ball of healing light to each part of your body. Start with your feet, go up your calves, over your knees, along your thighs all the way up to your chest. Do you feel tightness anywhere?”
“Yes.”
“Send the ball there.”
I nodded, imagining the bright white ball running back and forth over my hips and stomach where I couldn’t get rid of the knotted feeling.
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