The Destiny Code: The Soldier and the Mystic

by Hollingsworth, Suzette

  “Another world? Like with dragons and knights?” Julianne asked.

  “In a manner of speaking.” Alita motioned to Harvey’s painting. “Do the great masters paint an exact replica of the landscape around them?”

  “Well…yes…maybe…I don’t know…”

  “No.When one views the sublime works of art, one has the sense of an untold story. Isn’t that true, Harvey?”

  “A mystery!” Julianne clapped her hands.

  “I guess,” replied Harvey. “But what has that to do with your made-up fairyland that doesn’t exist?”

  “Not made up. Real. The physical realm is not the only reality but only a small part of the real world.”

  “You should grow up, Alita.” He puffed up his chest. “There is only one world.”

  “A touch of white here and feathered strokes of blue here would create more of the effect you want, Harvey.” She pointed to a spot on the painting. Harvey studied his inexpert rendition and then his sister. He immediately followed her advice and returned to his painting.

  “How do you see it, Lita?” As Julianne and Alita began to walk about the garden hand in hand, Julianne’s face lit up with curiosity. “The ’nother world?”

  “You don’t see it with your eyes, Julianne.”

  “Not with your eyes!” she blurted out. “How can you see without your eyes?”

  “Shhh! You’ll awaken the sleeping fairies, Jules.” Alita put her index finger to her mouth. “We all see the other world differently, in unique ways. You have your own special way, Julianne. You see it with your imagination. Everything transforms into something else for you.”

  “Like what, Lita?”

  “Like dancing gumdrops, singing teakettles, and magical frogs.”

  “’Magination is best!” Julianne clapped her hands, smiling.

  “Would you like me to show you how I see it, Jules?”

  Julianne nodded emphatically, her hair swishing back and forth.

  “If I show you, we can’t speak of it to anyone except Ma-ma and Papa. It’s a great secret.”

  “Not even Harvey?” Julianne asked, her eyes wide.

  “Not even Harvey.” She tapped her forehead with her index finger. “This is how Harvey sees the world, through his brain. He only views the world one way. We are girls and not so limited as that.” Alita made a sweeping motion with her arms.

  “Because we’re special?” Julianne giggled.

  “Boys are special, too, just…more apt to travel in a straight line. They miss many splendid sights.”

  “Close your eyes, Julianne,” Alita whispered. She took her sister’s hand and walked to a holly-berry bush out of Harvey’s line of vision while he continued to work on his painting. She took Julianne’s hand and held it one inch from the bush, the tiny hand suspended in midair. “Do you feel anything?”

  “Feel what?” asked Julianne. “How can I, Lita? I’m not touching anything.”

  “Do your fingers feel different when I hold your hand close to but not touching the bush?” She moved her hand closer then farther away.

  “No,” whispered Julianne.

  “Keep your eyes shut.” Alita led Julianne to the pond, where they sat down on the clover. She held Julianne’s hand over a lily pad. She pulled Julianne’s hand away from the lily pad, then close. “Feel your hand. Focus on it. Does it feel any different?”

  “No.” Suddenly Julianne’s mouth dropped, and her eyes shot open. “I did feel it, I did!”

  “What did you feel?”

  “It’s all tingly!” Julianne exclaimed.

  “Shhhh!” cautioned Alita, her excitement at Julianne’s discovery evident in the ripples of water illuminating her reflection, unruly wheat-blonde ringlets peering out from underneath her straw hat. Alita’s overlarge smiling lips and eyes were reflected in the pond mirror, amplifying her imperfections.

  “Each flower and tree feels different. You can travel all about the garden and feel the different energy patterns of each plant. You can name it in your mind.”

  “What is it? Can it hurt you?” Julianne whispered, her eyes wide with fear even as she covered her mouth with her hands. “Is it evil spirits?”

  “No, silly. It has a healing power—it’s the life energy of the plant reaching out to you. Every living thing has a language. Most people just don’t know how to hear it. Fortunately, understanding is not always necessary. One feels calmer without naming it or knowing why.”

  “Why is it so hard to hear it, Lita?”

  “That I cannot answer, Julianne, since I do hear it. But I do know that one of the greatest tragedies in the world is that people do not know how to receive what is already there.”

  3

  Inside the Sphere

  “Do the animals have a language, Lita?” Julianne asked, never one to leave any stone unturned. Alita could see the wheels in her sister’s mind were spinning uncontrollably.

  “When Sir Galahad is barking, is he talking to you, Julianne?” At the sound of his name the Basset Hound uncharacteristically ran forward from out of the bushes, his usual response to commands being to run the opposite way.

  “Yesssss…But I don’t know what he is saying.” Julianne reached down and patted the hound’s head, which was all the encouragement Sir Galahad needed to run off, chasing another scent.

  “Precisely! Just because you don’t understand doesn’t mean he isn’t telling you. By that logic anyone speaking Russian is not talking.”

  “Like the plants? Do they have a language?”

  “Most definitely, Jules.” Alita smiled. “Only today you learned a new language, Jules. And you’re only six years old. Think how many more you could learn by the time you grow up.”

  “How did you find out ’bout this, Lita? Who told you?” Julianne asked suspiciously, swishing the pink ruffles of her dress back and forth with one hand.

  “No one. I just felt it.” The answer was not entirely clear, even to her. Alita touched her finger to her lips again, their sign it was a special secret just between the two of them. “There are so many things going on around us all the time, but most people don’t see or feel them. And they don’t want you to see these other worlds either.”

  “Why?” Julianne asked. “Why don’t they want me to talk to the plants and animals?”

  “Because it is not written in a book somewhere that it can be done, I suppose.”

  “Then let’s get Papa to write it down in a book. Then we can talk to anyone, and no one will care.”

  “A brilliant thought, Julianne.”

  Julianne appeared deep in thought. “Can Ma-ma speak the plant’s language?”

  “Hmmm…I don’t think Ma-ma has tried, so I don’t know.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Ma-ma! She tries everything.”

  “True. Ma-ma has a high calling and does very important work.” It was a mystery how she came to be the daughter of two of the most accomplished people she knew. Her father, born into a preindustrial world dominated by agriculture, royalty, and serfdom, had been instrumental in ushering in the industrial age with his inventions, changing the world irrevocably and dramatically with his existence. Her mother, Lady Elaina Lawrence, the daughter of the Duke of Yarbury, had shocked polite society by denouncing a life of leisure, her birthright as a daughter of a peer of the realm, and joining with Florence Nightingale as a nurse.

  “Do you want to be a nurse like Ma-ma when you grow up, Lita?” Julianne asked, her aqua-blue eyes upturned.

  “My dream…” Alita sighed softly. “My only unrealized dream is to have a husband and a family of my own to love.” She felt the familiar mix of happiness and anxiety as she pondered the greatest wish of her heart.

  “But, Lita. Don’t you want to be famous like Papa?”

  “And Ma-ma,” Alita added. “She has made many contributions to the field of nursing and is in the royal court of political hostesses—some say she is the queen.”

  “Do you want to be queen, Lita?” Julianne g
iggled.

  “Societal achievements are of no moment to me, Jules.” She tossed a blossom into the pond.

  Julianne stared at her, skepticism written across her face.

  Alita broke the silence. “Outside of making the match of the season!” she exclaimed, pinching her sister’s cheeks. They both fell back, giggling.

  “There is no hope for advancement in any arena of study without a thorough understanding of mathematics,” Lady Elaina had pronounced. Alita had the brains for math and science, she knew. Other people touched mystery through these subjects, but it was not her venue. Her lack of interest in academic pursuits was a constant source of aggravation to her mother, who had staged battle on par with Waterloo with her own mother for the right to study mathematics.

  “But, my darling, don’t you have any ambitions?” Alita smiled with amusement as she replayed in her mind Lady Elaina’s aghast expression, now superimposed on the pond’s ripples of water. Alita had gurgled with laughter. “Mother, do you place mathematics as a higher ambition than the growth of the soul? Or to learn to love fully? If so, I am content to set my sights low.” Alita bit her tongue, not adding that the last thing she would want to do was to be away from her children when her situation allowed her to be near them.

  Lady Elaina sat in stunned silence, mouth opened, as if she could neither believe her daughter’s viewpoint nor respond to it.

  “Ma-ma doesn’t have time to talk to the plants.” Julianne shook her head slowly in understanding, bringing Alita back to the present. “But we do, don’t we, Lita?”

  “Yes, Jules, we have time to talk to every living creature in the garden.” Alita put her finger to her lips again for emphasis. “But remember, it’s our secret.”

  “What does Ma-ma do all day?” Julianne’s face glowed, clearly reveling in the arrangement. “Vol…volunt…volunteeeerink at the hospital?”

  “She heals sick people. And Ma-ma is working to obtain the vote for women. It is truly her life’s purpose. We must pray that she succeeds.”

  “Why does Ma-ma want to vote? Can’t Papa do it for her?”

  “Ma-ma always has her own thoughts on things.” Alita tapped her index finger to her forehead. “Julianne, you love your brother very much, don’t you?”

  The child nodded emphatically.

  “Would you wish Harvey to answer for you in all matters? And to never be permitted to speak for yourself?”

  “Harvey? No! He would mess everything up! He doesn’t know what I want. Even if he did know ...” Julianne’s indignation was rising “he might not care.”

  Alita nodded quietly, knowing this to be a moment of epiphany for her sister. “Very true. As good as he is, I fear the power might go to his head if Harvey knew us to be under his jurisdiction.”

  Suddenly Alita looked up toward the house. There was no one in sight.

  “What is it, Lita?”

  “It’s Miss Kristine come to visit.”

  Julianne’s face fell. “You always run off when we’re playing and say that someone needs you, Lita.”

  “And someone always does, don’t they, Jules? Remember when Mrs. Mulroney fell?” Alita kneeled on the ground beside her sister. “And we were having so much fun playing dress-up when we suddenly had to leave, didn’t we? If we hadn’t taken a carriage to Mrs. Mulroney’s house and found her, she might have died—or at the very least, suffered a great deal.”

  “Kristine isn’t going to die.” Julianne pouted accusingly, as if she wished it might happen, or at the very least, that her sister’s friend would go away forever. “You would rather play with her than me.”

  “That is definitely not true, Jules.” Alita felt her heart ache at Julianne’s dejected expression even though she knew her devotion to her sister was complete. “I have learned to obey even when I don’t understand. Especially when I don’t understand. The message would not be sent if I weren’t supposed to act on it. I hold alertness and obedience as virtues most dear.”

  “Fun is a virtue.”

  “Definitely fun is a virtue.” Alita twirled Julianne round. “And we shall embroider after dinner together. Would you like that, Jules?”

  A few moments later, Miss Kristine Tutt presented herself to the small garden party, ignoring all but Alita.

  “Oh, you are a picture, Krissy!” It took one’s breath away just to gaze upon her. The elegant brunette might have been Marie Antoinette playing shepherdess at the Petit Trianon in her “Little Bo Peep” pink satin ensemble, complete with staff.

  Alita wished a special someone might have his breath taken away just to gaze upon her.

  Unlikely. She was as thin as a rail. And just about as shapeless. She swung her gingham skirt about her, suddenly feeling like a toddler in Kristine’s presence.

  “My mother thinks it is too old for me, but I don’t agree at all.” Kristine smoothed the satin. “I think I have the figure for it.”

  “Indeed you do. You are quite perfect, Krissy.” She sighed longingly. Lady Elaina would never allow her daughter to wear such a revealing outfit—even without any curves to reveal.

  “Julianne, can you help me with my next painting?” Harvey simultaneously approached his sisters, propping a new canvas on the easel, even as Alita winked at him in gratitude.

  “Harvey, you can’t vote for me!” Julianne admonished, shuffling her feet as she walked toward him.

  “I don’t wish to, Jules,” he replied, taken aback.

  “Yes, you do. You always tell me what to do.”

  Kristine and Alita moved to sit under an arbor near the pond, their heads close together.

  “There’s to be a small dinner party at my home on Saturday next, with cards and dancing.” The always-bubbly brunette was even more animated than usual. “And there will be gentlemen. You simply must come, Alita.”

  “I’ll ask Ma-ma and Papa, dear Krissy. And who is to be invited?” Alita felt a decided interest.

  “My mother is comprising the list. The first son of an earl. A wealthy cousin from Staffordshire. And best of all, are you acquainted with Darius Fairbanks?” Kristine caught her breath, followed by a wistful expression.

  “Darius Fairbanks…Yes, I think I am.” Alita had not met Mr. Fairbanks. Focusing all of her concentration, she contemplated his name while maintaining the social smile she had learned to project at such times. She held her hand lightly over Kristine’s in a practiced gesture as she repeated Darius Fairbanks’s name to herself. “Give me a moment, Krissy. I’m trying to recall where I met him.”

  In startling fashion, a random mix of thoughts and feelings encompassed her. She felt a wave of energy rush over her, followed instantly by the scent of expensive men’s cologne.

  Alita knew at once she was encountering Darius Fairbanks.

  And what she saw there, she could not like. A great ego, few scruples, and a lack of compassion for the feelings of others. The absence of motivation outside of the drive to satisfy his own desires, and no hesitation to do so. Charisma, intelligence, and the ability to charm.

  Alarmingly, she saw no values to curb him from satiating himself at the expense of others—no room for anything but Darius Fairbanks in his picture and for those whom Mr. Fairbanks found momentarily amusing or satisfying.

  “Well? Alita?” Kristine demanded impatiently. “You have a dreadful habit of suddenly going silent. It is quite rude.”

  “You must make allowances for those who are slow of thought, unlike yourself, Krissy.” Alita feigned an expression of contemplation, stalling for time. “I’m simply attempting to recall Mr. Fairbanks.”

  Kristine rolled her eyes.

  “And what is Mr. Fairbanks’ appearance, Krissy?” Alita forced her countenance to remain nonplussed despite the churning of her stomach at entering the mind of such an unscrupulous person. She held her hands tightly in her lap, attempting to calm herself.

  “Now I know you haven’t seen Darius, or you wouldn’t ask.” Kristine clasped her arms around herself. “He’s tall a
nd blond, with brown eyes, positively dreamy and…he’s perfect. I never thought to see a boy smile like that…”

  “It’s a meeting of the minds, I gather?” Alita cocked one eyebrow at her friend.

  They both hunched closer and giggled. Harvey cast a disapproving eye in their direction.

  “And what is Mr. Fairbanks’s personality, Krissy?” Alita persisted breezily, forcing an expression of interest.

  “Oh, charming. And he is a famous dancer, and well…everything divine.”

  “Hmmm…Yes, I believe I recall Mr. Fairbanks.” Alita sniffed.

  Kristine studied her friend with surprise. Alita knew well her socially polished friend was acutely attuned to the subtle slights utilized by her sex when wishing to communicate effectively in the accepted ladylike manner.

  “What is it, Alita?” demanded Kristine, her curiosity peaked. “What could you possibly find to dislike in Darius Fairbanks?”

  “An elegant gentleman, certainly.” Alita strove to make her frown almost undetectable as she lowered her head to momentarily cover her eyes with her hat, pretending to study her lace-gloved hands. She paused for emphasis before returning her eyes to Kristine’s.

  “Elegant…And?”

  Alita cleared her throat.

  “I demand that you tell me!”

  “If memory serves…a bit on the boorish side.”

  “Boorish?” The insult was complete. “How could you find six feet of charm topped with wavy blond hair and dark brown eyes boorish?”

  “That will grow old after a time, Krissy. Beauty fades. And then what does one have?”

  “I’d be willing to endure the deprivation.”

  “Certainly, if the gentleman were possessed of other more substantive qualities. A sense of humor, for example.” Alita waved her hand nonchalantly.

  “A sense of humor?” asked Kristine incredulously.

  “I always pictured you with a beau possessing a sort of madcap cleverness. Your perfect match would show a great deal of enthusiasm for life. You’re such a lively girl, Krissy.”