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Once and Forever
Constance O’Day-Flannery
Dear Readers,
I’m often asked why I combined time travel with romance, of all things. I consider what I write to be stories of timeless love. Why is it that we all secretly believe, somewhere, the love of our life waits for us? I think it might be that beyond all our scurrying around for success, what we really want is to find our Twin Flame. Not that we can’t be complete without it, but the complement of a Twin flame ignites magic in our lives, and combined, the power of such love can be astonishing, transcending even the dimension of time. This is the story of such a love.
When I set out to write about the Shakespearean era I was hesitant, having never ventured into this time period. My research sent me on a mind-blowing ride into the past as mysteries started to appear and threads of history began to unravel. Did I dare write about what I was discovering? The proposal for this book was accepted many months before Shakespeare in Love and Elizabeth were released in movie theaters, so the popularity of those productions encouraged me to keep writing.
I hope you enjoy this adventure as much as I enjoyed writing it. Come with me now, if you will… and watch as two souls, Twin Flames, recognize each other and create such a bright, wondrous light that nothing, not even time, can extinguish it.
Kindest regards,
Constance O’Day
For Cristopher…
my inspiration, my partner, my Twin Flame
Prologue
Journal Entry
15 May 1598
Long have my inner notes been lulled to whisper… until now, as I have been aroused by the reverberation that you, my ancient love, are approaching.
I have always loved you, I love you still, I always will.
And I know you are more than a dream, for I remember your tones, even in my waking, and your exquisite vibrations fill the very corners of my being.
We have orchestrated this, our music, for a thousand years or more. Our harmonizing chords striking deep within this One Soul shall serenade all things into infinity—a heavenly resonation—leaving such an impression upon the universe that the stars call out a billion ovations.
Listen now, My Beloved, our symphony seduces and implores, we return to us.
We are One Mind, One Heart, One Soul.
I reach to embrace you gently, but the sun’s rise chases another dark velvet thief who has stolen my sleep, our song, and you from me, as I am left in these, my long waking hours, with only haunting echos of our refrain.
Yet I know I will find you, and our music will rise again, through eternity…
Once and Forever.
Chapter One
Maggie Whitaker always had a plan, a direction.
Until now…
Okay, so she might just be having one of those mini nervous breakdowns, a mid-life crisis. Who could blame her? Her life had turned into a circus. Looking out the small window of the plane to the sunrise, she saw the dark sky giving way to shades of deep purple and rose, and she sighed in an effort to release the stress. She leaned her head against the backrest and closed her eyes. Everyone else was sleeping on this red-eye flight to London, yet her short nap had only produced a weird dream where she’d been walking in the woods and asking strangers, “Is it you? Is it you?”
Sheesh… even in her dreams she was unable to find peace. From some distant part of her brain she remembered a time, not so long ago, when her life had been normal. She recalled a feeling of safety in a great-paying job, a comfortable marriage. Her place within society seemed secure. How could it all have changed so quickly, she wondered, as the overhead lights in the cabin were turned on and people began to stir. Maggie smelled the aroma of coffee and stretched as best as she could, anxious to ease her sore muscles. Six hours in a cramped seat was no picnic, yet this adventure across the Atlantic had been her choice. Perhaps some might see it as irresponsible, though it felt like a lifeline had been thrown to her, and she would have been truly crazy not to grab hold.
Lifting her purse from the floor, she laid it on the empty seat next to hers. The least she could do was make herself presentable. She knew the routine. First breakfast, then they would land at Heathrow. Taking out her compact, she looked at her reflection and sighed again. The overnight flight hadn’t helped her appearance, yet she knew the stress of the last year and a half had taken its toll, and there wasn’t much she could do to hide it. She smoothed down her hair, trying not notice the fine threads of gray at her temples. In three days she was celebrating the big 4-0 and her life was a mess.
What are you doing, Maggie Whitaker? She looked at her reflection and snapped the compact shut, as if the action might stop the answer. Running away. That was what she was doing. There was a time when her job in television commercial sales had afforded her the luxury of buying designer clothes and eating at the finest restaurants in New York City. Now she was on unemployment; a gift from the state when her boss and mentor was fired and she along with him, when the new management team brought in their own staff. That would have been tough enough, had she not recently gone through a divorce and been paying alimony to her ex-husband… the artist.
She hadn’t minded supporting him when they were married since her job provided them with a great lifestyle, and she was liberated enough to realize the man didn’t have to be the breadwinner, but she’d never expected Eric to sue her for alimony. Especially since he wanted the divorce. Now the state of New Jersey was coming after her, along with the mortgage company, the utility companies, and every other institution she’d ever dealt with in the last eight years. It was enough to make her want to disappear, to slip away silently.
So that’s what she was doing… disappearing for ten days.
Before closing her purse, she brought out the thick envelope postmarked Great Britain and again read the Victorian birthday card from her relative.
Dearest Maggie,
Happy Anniversary of the day you entered into this world. We have all been blessed by you and celebrate your life. How you have been on my mind this last month. I have heard through your mother that you are without employment and, of course, it seemed the perfect opportunity to send you this ticket. Please come to visit me, Maggie. One of my friends did a reading for me and it became apparent that you are needed here at this time. In fact, I believe it is imperative that you come here to England. Thus, I have enclosed a nonrefundable ticket for your birthday. It’s time, Margaret Whitaker, for you to visit the place of your people. If nothing else, humor an old woman who misses her family.
I’ll be waiting at the airport to meet you and show you my little bit of Paradise.
Love,
Aunt Edithe
Maggie remembered being stunned when she’d opened the envelope days ago and saw the British Airways ticket. It had been after another agonizing trip across the Hudson, where she’d been rejected again and told that advertising budgets were being axed. She’d cried her way through rush-hour traffic back into Jersey and realized she had no idea where to turn, what to do. All her contacts seemed useless. She was in trouble, and alone.
And then out of the blue Aunt Edithe, her late father’s wacky sister, came to her rescue, inviting her to go joyriding across the Atlantic. Maggie didn’t know why her aunt seemed to favor her when they’d only met once, many years ago. Her aunt always remembered to send birthday and holiday cards, and she wrote letters that Maggie answered quickly. They had an unusual pen-pal relationship. Aunt Edithe, who gave up her life in New York
almost thirty years ago to relocate to England and indulge in her eccentricities, wrote Maggie about her garden, her peculiar friends, her unconventional views, and always tried to get Maggie to visit.
Running her finger over her aunt’s beautiful script, Maggie thought back to the way she had tortured herself over the decision to leave everything behind and just go for the adventure. All those years of being the good, responsible one, of trying to be nice enough, smart enough, understanding enough, talented enough, pretty enough, good enough, seemed like a colossal waste of time. It certainly didn’t guarantee happiness, and she finally admitted she was tired of being the responsible one, always doing the right thing. After thirty-nine years of being the good girl, maybe it was time to be spontaneous. There was no safety in goodness, and that had blown her mind, making her question everything she had been taught. All of her belief systems appeared to be falling apart.
She really hated the victim mentality that seemed to permeate society, yet anyone who walked a week in her shoes would pack her bags for her and tell her just to do it. She had tried, truly tried, all her life to do what was considered the right thing. She had taken care of her husband, her widowed mother in California… everyone who ever came into her life and was in need. When her finances had taken a nosedive, so did her ability to bail everyone out… even herself.
She remembered the moment when she sat at her kitchen table and thought to heck with it all, or what everyone else thought she should do… for ten days she would be free, free to be herself. So she packed her bag, closed up her house, and took a cab to Newark Airport. She was about to celebrate an important birthday with her wacky sixty-one-year-old aunt in a foreign country and wish for some guidance. She could even put up with Aunt Edithe’s strange philosophies and tarot readings for ten days of escape from the dismal circumstances of her own life. Bless her aunt’s heart for coming to her rescue. Who knew what waited for her? Anything could happen, for it was certain she was now flying by the seat of her pants.
It was kind of a plan. She was turning forty, and she’d never done anything like this in her entire, regimented life. As irrational as it might seem, she was about to go joyriding into the unknown. Maybe it was time not to be a grown-up. Joyriding… at her age! She stifled a groan as the flight attendant rolled the beverage cart up the aisle.
It sure sounded like a mid-life crisis to her.
Heathrow was an experience of controlled confusion. She passed through customs with her cart and emerged into a huge space with ticket counters everywhere. It was so unlike American airports. Maggie felt lost in the sea of people and tried to make eye contact with several older women, who passed her with a look of disinterest. It was too reminiscent of her dream, where she’d been walking in the woods and feeling so lost as no one acknowledged her. Sighing, she wondered how long she should wait before she had her aunt paged.
An elderly woman was walking in her direction, and Maggie smiled, even though this tall senior citizen didn’t seem remotely familiar.
“Good day to you,” the woman said, while lifting a cane and tapping her cart. “Now, please move this so I may proceed to my gate.”
“Oh.” Surprised by the matter-of-fact statement, Maggie quickly pushed her cart to the side, and murmured, “I’m sorry.”
This feeling of being lost began to settle over her again, and she sensed the lack of sleep catching up with her, making her irritable. Really! She and Aunt Edithe should have come up with some arrangement, beyond I’ll meet you at the airport. Maybe she should have her paged.
“Maggie…?”
She turned quickly and was startled for just a moment as she gazed into the clearest blue eyes she had ever seen. A stately woman, with beautiful white hair that touched her shoulders in a loose pageboy and was dressed in a lovely deep gray suit, smiled at her with recognition.
“Aunt Edithe?”
Nodding, Edithe’s smile increased as she opened her arms. “Welcome to England, child.”
Maggie was wrapped in her aunt’s embrace and, as she breathed deeply in relief, she smelled the delicate scent of Joy perfume. “Thank you so much for inviting me. It couldn’t have happened at a better time.”
Edithe pulled back and looked directly into Maggie’s eyes. “I know,” she whispered, with a gentle smile.
Maggie had the strangest sensation that her aunt, who did have some resemblance to her late father, really knew how desperate she had been feeling for the last few months. “You look…Well, you look absolutely wonderful. England must agree with you.”
Edithe released her and smiled with affection. “It does,” she said simply. “Now, let’s depart this madness and find the car.”
Nodding, Maggie followed her aunt’s lead through the maze of ticket counters to the exit and thought what a lovely surprise her aunt was. Suddenly, she no longer seemed so eccentric; rather Aunt Edithe seemed very interesting. For years, she’d written about her odd views on life, the earth, our placement in the universe, and Maggie half expected to see her aunt show up in flowing robes and crystal beads. Instead, her aunt looked like a very stylish, very charming older woman.
“I can’t tell you how excited I am that you’re finally here, dearest Maggie,” her aunt said, as they waited to exit through the automatic doors. “We have so much catching up to do together.”
Maggie noted that her aunt’s voice held more than a tinge of a British accent, and she thought it, too, was a pleasant surprise. “Thank you for making it all possible,” Maggie answered, as she pushed her cart through the opened doors and got her first taste of England. It was early morning, and lines of black sedans were waiting to pick up passengers. How quaint, she thought. The cabs looked just like those in the movies she loved when she was young. She watched as her aunt raised her arm, and Maggie thought she was signaling a cab. Suddenly a cherry red Jaguar stopped on the other side of the black sedans and Edithe motioned Maggie toward it.
She didn’t know what to expect. Her aunt never spoke about her financial status, and she knew that Jags originated in England, but Aunt Edithe… in a cherry red one?
An older man came out of the driver’s side, at the same time the trunk popped open. He was dressed in a very British style, all tweeds, with patches of leather on the elbows of his jacket.
“Malcolm, may I present my niece, Margaret. Isn’t she lovely?”
The man smiled beneath a thick gray moustache and extended his hand. “The pleasure is all mine, Maggie. If I may be informal? Your aunt has told me so much about you, I feel as though we are already acquainted.”
She shook his hand and couldn’t help smiling back. He seemed so friendly, almost jolly. “It’s very nice to meet you, Malcolm. And thank you for picking me up so early.”
“Nonsense,” he replied, taking her heavy suitcase and depositing it in the trunk. “Your aunt had us up hours before we should leave. Her anticipation was contagious.”
Us? Was her aunt living with Malcolm? Maggie didn’t know if it was lack of sleep, but she suddenly wanted to giggle and mentally congratulated Aunt Edithe. She certainly was a big surprise. Doddering, eccentric, odd… ? Hardly.
“It’s a beautiful car,” Maggie murmured to Malcolm, as he opened the door to the backseat.
The man grinned, and said, “Edithe created quite a stir when she purchased it.”
Her aunt slid onto the front passenger seat. “I don’t know why,” Edithe said with a telling grin. “I supposed because I refused to be limited to the more sedate colors. I’ve still got some of the Yank in me. What did they expect? English racing green? I like this color. It makes me happy.”
Maggie chuckled and sat back against the soft leather. This magnificent, red car belonged to Aunt Edithe? She was trying to align the mental picture she had carried for years. Her aunt was a cultured, refined older woman who was quite comfortable financially. Why, she could be the Queen Mum’s lady-in-waiting!
As the car pulled away from the curb, Edithe turned around and smiled with
tenderness. “I would have known you anywhere. You have the Whitaker bearing, and those piercing blue eyes. Just relax, child. I know you’re exhausted after that flight.”
Child? Somehow the address was endearing, and Maggie knew her eyes were her best feature, but they certainly didn’t have that sparkle Aunt Edithe’s had. She smiled at her aunt, very pleased she had made the decision to come to England. “I am tired,” she admitted, as they exited the huge airport. She looked out the window to the early-summer view and felt that surge of excitement grow. Something wonderful had already happened. Aunt Edithe wasn’t weird at all.
“Are you happy, child?”
Maggie was startled and looked to the front seat and the back of her aunt’s head. “I’m happy right now,” she answered, smoothing down the material of her linen skirt. “If you’re talking about my life in general, well, you know most of the details, and I guess you could say some improvements would be welcome.”
Edithe laughed. “Very good. Stay happy, right now.”
“That’s my plan,” Maggie replied with a grin.
Malcolm and Edithe exchanged glances and smiled at each other, as though some silent communication were taking place between them. Maybe it was just a look of affection, but Maggie had the distinct impression that her words had pleased them. She turned her attention to the passing scenery. In the next hour she learned that her aunt had a very full life in England as they talked about relatives and caught up on history.
Traveling on the left side of the road was odd, Maggie thought, as she gazed out the window. Kind of disorienting. Suddenly, she saw a sign that made her sit up and gasp.
“Stonehenge,” she whispered, wishing that they could stop.
Malcolm heard her and chuckled. “I believe we have that trip planned. Much better on the weekend, when all this concert preparation is less. Don’t think I’ve ever seen so much apparatus needed for something outdoors.”
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