Promised Soul

by Sandra J. Jackson

  “Wait!” he said, grabbing my arm.

  I stopped, not wanting him to ask me any questions about what had happened, or supposedly did. I wouldn't know how to answer him anyway.

  “Is the picture I took alright?”

  “What?” I asked taken aback, he seemed already to have forgotten about it.

  “The picture, is it alright? You'd better check before we leave.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Taking out my camera, I looked for the picture he'd taken. It was hard to see outside and at that point, I didn't much care anymore. “Yeah, it's fine. Let's just go, okay?” Again, I forced another smile.

  “To the mainland?” he asked, as we headed into the tower of the lighthouse.

  “Back home,” I said as we made our way down the tower stairs.

  I slept deeply the entire, uneventful, ride for it wasn't long before Peter was waking me up to inform me that I was home. I turned to get my pack from the backseat when Peter touched my arm.

  “I'll get it,” he said; the look of worry on his face kept me from arguing.

  I led the way up the stairs and into the apartment. Peter followed me into the kitchen and put my pack down on the table.

  “Thanks for the great day,” I said smiling, that time it wasn't forced, I genuinely enjoyed myself, despite that one event.

  “Just doing my job,” he informed me.

  “Yeah, well it was nice spending the day with a friend.”

  He blushed. “Friend, huh? I'm sure I can handle that. I should go.” He turned to leave and I followed. As he reached the door, he faced me again, a look of worry still on his face.

  “Get yourself something to eat and then to bed. I think you might be coming down with something.” He leaned over and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. It was my turn to blush.

  “Thanks again,” I said as Peter left closing the door behind him.

  The last thing on my mind was eating, and I quickly headed back into the kitchen to search my pack for my camera. The bright sun had made it difficult to see the picture Peter had taken but not so difficult to make out what I was sure I had seen, but when I looked again, there was nothing but a picture of the ocean. Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but I was certain there had been a ship on the horizon, and not just any ship but the Ocean Queen.

  Twenty-Seven

  The sun had set when Peter left Krista, but instead of driving home, he headed in the opposite direction toward Tockington. He needed to speak with Aaron in person.

  When he finally arrived at his friend's home, he sat in the car collecting his thoughts. He didn't know what he was going to tell him and though he'd had over an hour to work it out, nothing suitable came to mind. A rap on the car window startled him. Peter opened the door and got out.

  “You scared the crap out of me, brother,” Peter said, lightly punching Aaron in the arm.

  Aaron laughed. “I know, you should have seen yourself jump. I thought it was rather brilliant myself.”

  “You would. Feeling better then?” Peter asked remembering his friend's illness.

  “Yeah, I think I ate something that didn't agree with me. What are you doing here anyway? I thought by now you'd be on your way home or at the very least trying to romance Krista again,” Aaron teased.

  “Yeah, well that ship has sailed. She and I have agreed to be friends, and frankly, I'm glad for it.” Peter knew the news would stun Aaron as last time he'd talked to him about Krista, he was quite smitten with her and hadn't hidden his feelings.

  Aaron cocked his head. “What happened?” he asked as he pointed towards the stone bench where they both took a seat.

  “Well, I'm not quite sure,” Peter began. “There's something a bit – odd.”

  “Odd?”

  “Yeah, I know – just your type, right?” Peter quipped.

  “She sounded quite normal to me when we spoke.”

  “It's just that… Look, I promised not to say anything, but well, she sort of has this whole past life issue she's struggling with.”

  Aaron furrowed his brow.

  “I know what you're thinking,” Peter said. “I accidentally read her journal and –”

  “You accidentally read her journal?” There was no mistaking the sound of dismay in Aaron's voice.

  “It's not what you think. I was reading the notebook your aunt left her, but Krista has apparently turned it into her journal. When I realized what I was reading, I couldn't pull my eyes away. Anyway, after the first few pages, I came to my senses and set the notebook down.”

  “But…” Aaron prodded.

  Peter took a deep breath. He was disappointed in himself for breaking his promise to Krista, yet he needed to speak to someone about what he'd witnessed.

  “She knew I'd read some of it and started explaining, then asked me to finish reading it – I shouldn't have, but I did. I told her I didn't believe in that sort of stuff, so we dropped it.” There was a moment of silence before Peter continued to profess what had occurred between him and Krista. “I wound up telling her that you sort of believed in that stuff – sorry mate.”

  “Oh.”

  Peter sensed Aaron's aggravation. Unlike Peter, Aaron had always been a very private person, and the only one he confided in was his family or Peter. He wondered now if his friend would ever confide in him again. Peter quickly tried to resolve it. “Don't worry Aaron, I told her I wouldn't speak to you about it. She won't mention it to you.”

  “So why are you telling me this now?”

  “It's just… I thought she was seasick on the ferry ride to the Isle of Wight. Then at the lighthouse, she said she was dizzy and wanted me to snap a photo… I think she saw something. Something frightened her, but she wouldn't tell me what, though it was obvious by the look on her face. But that's not the creepy part; it was on the ride back home.” Memories from the drive home filtered through Peter's mind.

  “What do you mean by creepy?”

  Now that the words were out of Peter's mouth, he wasn't exactly sure how he was going to explain what had happened. “She slept in the car the whole drive home.”

  “What's so creepy about that?” Aaron asked.

  “It's not the sleeping that was creepy, it's the conversation she was having whilst she slept that was creepy. I mean, I couldn't get her home fast enough. I'm likely to have nightmares about the whole thing.”

  “I'm sure it was nothing. She just talks in her sleep,” Aaron said reassuringly.

  Peter only wished Aaron was right, but he hadn't been there. Peter knew what he'd heard – what he'd seen.

  “This wasn't your ordinary mumbling in your sleep. This was clearly a conversation between two people.”

  “Maybe she was just excited.”

  “No!” Peter shook his head emphatically. “It was like listening to a telephone conversation between Krista and someone else. She mentioned seeing a ship on the horizon and that it frightened her. There was no ship, yet she looked absolutely ghastly when I handed back her camera.”

  “Look, she was obviously just dreaming,” Aaron said, sounding a little frustrated.

  Peter thought how funny it was for Aaron, who claimed to believe in some of the things Krista had spoken about, to be so quick in finding a logical explanation. That job belonged to Peter.

  “Well, she sounded pretty convinced about the ship, so I had to take a look.”

  “Look at what?” Aaron's frustration was growing.

  “When we stopped for petrol, Krista was still asleep. So I went through her pack to get her camera.”

  Aaron rolled his eyes and covered his face with his hands as though trying to rub frustration away. “Ah!” he muttered disappointedly.

  Peter held up his hand to stop Aaron from saying anything further before he finished. “I found the photo and of course, there was no ship. However, I must have snapped another photo by accident when I'd turned around to give her back the camera.” Peter looked away for a moment, recalling the event. He struggled as he t
ried to think of the best way to explain. “It was a photo of Krista's face, only her eyes…“ Peter hesitated, the memory of that picture still clearly in his mind.

  “What about her eyes?” Aaron demanded as his frustration mounted.

  “They were most definitely brown.”

  Complete confusion registered on Aaron's face as he listened to Peter's ramblings.

  Peter sighed, “Krista's eyes are green.”

  Twenty-Eight

  It wasn't necessary to look at the time when my eyes fluttered open, I knew it would be the same time as it had been every morning for the past several days. And just like every morning, I rose from my bed and padded out to the kitchen waiting to catch the first glimpse of daylight spread across the sky as the sun crested over the horizon.

  I had never felt more alive – more at ease – more at home. However, that morning, dark clouds greeted me as I looked out, and instead of cheery streaks of light, streams of rain burst forth and beat against the window. Coffee in the garden was definitely out of the question, thus I resolved to take it in the living room.

  Sitting silently, I watched the rain come down as I sipped my coffee; feeling the warmth spread through me. After some time, I turned on the TV and searched for the latest weather report. To my satisfaction, the rain was to end by mid-morning, giving me hope that my intentions for the day would go as planned. In the meantime, while the rain kept up its steady pace, I decided that it was time to lift the ban on technology.

  I removed my sweater from the monitor and turned on the power, waking the computer up from its weeklong slumber. My first plan of attack was my very full inbox, in view of that I flagged the e-mails that needed answering.

  At first consideration, I planned sending out the same general message to everyone on my list but thought against it, opting for a more personal touch. Finally, after responding to several e-mails, there was only one more to deal with, that one being from Aaron. It had been sent almost a week earlier and was yet another apology explaining his sudden illness and that he wouldn't be taking me on our outing. I laughed at myself, had I read that last Thursday it wouldn't have been a surprise when Peter showed up at my door.

  When ten-thirty rolled around, the rain had all but stopped, and I spotted a beautiful rainbow crossing the sky as the sun burst through the clouds. Quickly, I headed to my room.

  By the time I was showered and dressed, most of the clouds were gone and the sky looked promising. I headed out the door, grabbing my umbrella as an afterthought and tucked it into my purse.

  The walk into town was refreshing, and the light from the sun glinted off the raindrops which stuck to the leaves on the plants and trees. I felt like a child and had to control the urge to jump into puddles I encountered on the way.

  I met few people, but to those I encountered, my greeting was heartfelt with a smile and a jovial 'good morning' or 'it's turned out to be a lovely day, hasn't it?' It was as if with each passing day, I belonged in Bourton and was no longer just a visitor. In fact, the mere thought of leaving was depressing, so I pushed those thoughts to the farthest corners of my mind, resolving to deal with them when the time came. For now, I was content pretending that Bourton truly was my home.

  I returned home later that afternoon, completely sated with food, drink, laughter and my purchases. So much so, that I decided a late afternoon nap was not completely out of the question.

  After gently tossing the bags with my latest purchases on my bed, I returned to the living room and plunked down on the couch – weary from my day's adventures, but elated. My bare feet tingled as I propped them up on the coffee table, and then I leaned back against the couch closing my eyes. Within minutes, I was sound asleep.

  “You have to find him,” she whispered.

  “Who?” I didn't understand what she meant.

  “Him, of course.” She showed me his picture drawn from her memories – my dreams.

  “How? No – it has been too long. It's not possible.”

  “Yes, it is. He's in here,” she said at the same time as I raised my hand and covered my heart. “What's that?” She sounded startled.

  I looked around trying to find what she was talking about, yet only whiteness greeted my eyes.

  “What?” I asked her.

  “Are those bells?” she whispered.

  “Bells?”

  “There's ringing, I hear bells.”

  I listened carefully, and then I heard them, too. They sounded so far away at first, but then the sound moved closer and closer.

  My eyes fluttered open, and it took a moment for them to focus on my surroundings. I grabbed the cordless phone that was lying on the coffee table in front of me, surprised that it worked, as it hadn't been in its cradle since the night before.

  “Hello!” My voice was gravely; I cleared my throat. “Hello!”

  “Hello, Krista?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Have I woken you? I'm so sorry.”

  It took a second for me to place his voice and then it registered. “Oh! Hi Aaron.” I knew I sounded standoffish, but I really didn't care.

  Either Aaron didn't catch the aloofness in my voice or he ignored it, either way he began asking me question after question on how I'd been enjoying my stay.

  “It's been great!” I couldn't hide my enthusiasm.

  “Glad to hear it. So are you ready to head out tomorrow?” He sounded eager.

  “Tomorrow?” I tried to remember the itinerary he'd planned, but every day seemed to have melted into the next since I'd arrived.

  “I know the plan was to pick you up on Friday, but I happen to be free tomorrow, and I thought a day earlier would be better, besides…” he sounded sheepish, “I've got to try and make up for all my absences.”

  “Okay sure, tomorrow is fine. Should I bring a small bag for the day or…” My voice trailed off, I really wasn't sure where we were going.

  “You can't see London in a day; you better pack for the weekend.”

  Now I remembered it was the weekend in London, I didn't know how I could have forgotten. “Right, London – I forgot.”

  “No worries. You don't have any other plans do you?” Aaron asked suddenly sounding concerned.

  “No, of course not. I knew I was doing something this weekend and was planning to check my itinerary later,” I lied. I did forget all about it and as for that itinerary; my eyes hadn't seen it since I'd unpacked my suitcase.

  Beep! The cordless phone reminded me it was running out of battery power.

  “Sorry, Aaron, but the phone I'm on is starting to die. Was there anything else?”

  “No. Just pack for the weekend, and I'll get you bright and early in the morning say around six-thirty or is that too early?”

  I smiled to myself. By six-thirty, I would be more than ready.

  Beep!

  “No, that's fine. I'll be ready.”

  “Good.”

  “Ah Aaron?”

  Beep!

  “Yes?”

  “It will be you picking me up this time, right?” I almost hesitated in asking but I had a right to know.

  Beep!

  “Yes, of course, unless –”

  “Aaron?”

  I placed the now dead cordless phone back in its cradle and leaned back against the couch closing my eyes. It was then that my mind began to recall the dream I'd experienced before Aaron called. I wasn't sure what it meant, if anything at all. One thing was certain, there was a part of my soul that I shared with Mary and because we were connected, she shared her memories with me freely, no longer dreaming of her past, instead our memories intertwined. I began to understand what she desired more than any one thing, and it was the same for me, too.

  The search was on, but with whom or where we would find that connection seemed so far out of reach. For now, we – it was hard for me to think of myself without having her be a part of me – would be happy in knowing that we would work together to find our soulmate.

  Twenty-Nine />
  It had been a long night, and not because dreams interfered with my sleep, but because the excitement of spending the weekend in London roused me every couple of hours. Every time my eyes popped open and looked at the clock, disappointment followed. There was still plenty of time for sleep.

  Finally, by four-thirty, I climbed out of bed, tired of waiting. However, instead of heading out to the kitchen for my ritualistic cup of coffee, I headed into the bathroom and took a hot and longer-than-usual shower. There was plenty of time to waste since I'd packed my bag the night before.

  I stepped out from the shower stall, allowing the steam to billow out behind me, as apprehension began to build. Though I had grown used to seeing a different and distorted reflection of myself, it was still unnerving. Slowly, I made my way toward the steamed over mirror knowing that the moment it was wiped clear, my own recognizable image would materialize. However, I had a different plan in mind. My curiosity had taken over, and somehow I found the courage to take a moment and study the reflection, leaning merely inches away from brushing the tip of my nose against it.

  The face that stared back was undoubtedly mine, but the eyes and the hair were brown. I picked up the hand-towel resting on the vanity and slowly wiped the steam from the mirror, erasing the reflection that was not me. With each stroke, my own image became clearer until the only steam that remained was where the eyes reflected back. Carefully, I removed the remaining steam, first from the reflection of one eye and then the other. Like magic, my eyes went from brown to green.

  By six o'clock, I was fully prepared and waiting for Aaron's arrival, though part of me was skeptical that he'd actually show up. In any case, the excursion to London was exciting. I had mixed feelings though about finally meeting Aaron. In one way, part of me hoped Peter would show up instead, after all, we had become friends. Yet if Aaron didn't show, my frustration with him was sure to grow, and if that should happen, I didn't think I would want to meet him at all.