Promised Soul E-Book

Sandra J. Jackson

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Just as Krista's summer plans are almost ready, she is suddenly plagued by strange dreams and intense feelings of déjà vu.

Feeling like she's losing her mind, Krista visits a psychic, only to feel more confused. When she arrives in England, her dreams persist, and she finds herself at the doorstep of another psychic. She needs clarity.

Finally, the words Krista was afraid to say out loud are spoken. Now, she has to figure out what it all means.

Promised Soul is a story of the past, present and future of two souls, bound together by eternal and transcending love.

Leseprobe

Promised Soul

Copyright (C) 2018 Sandra J. Jackson

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2021 by Next Chapter

Published 2021 by Next Chapter

Cover art by Cover Mint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

Dedication

For my husband, Perry, who supported me and never complained when I started this incredible journey. You are my soulmate. To my children, Melissa and Dylan, who, prior to my laptop, freely gave up the family computer whenever I asked. A mother's love is eternal.

Acknowledgments

I would like to express my heartfelt thanks to the many people who helped make this book a reality. First, to my sister, Lisanne and brother-in-law, Damian, the very first to read Promised Soul in its infancy. Thank you to my friend Yvonne, who read the novel in its entirety before editing. I would like to extend my gratitude to the readers on Wattpad. Your wonderful unbiased comments encouraged me to seek publication.

Prologue

Krista ran from her bedroom at the sound of her father's voice, leaving the picture she had been colouring on the floor, and jumped into his outstretched arms. She missed him terribly whenever he went away on one of his diving exhibitions. From her point of view, he was always gone far too long, though this last time it had only been three sleeps.

“Daddy!”

“Hello, my sunshine girl.” Sid caught her up in his arms and swung her around as she squealed with delight before he carefully put her down again.

“Did you bring me anything?” Krista beamed. She reached up and tugged the back of her sundress down, smoothing it back into place. How her dresses always managed getting tucked into the back of her underwear, she wasn't quite sure, though that time she suspected jumping into her father's arms had something to do with it.

“You bet I did.” Sid took off the backpack he had swung over his shoulder.

The two of them sat on the plush, grey-carpeted floor of the living room. Krista sat cross-legged and waited somewhat impatiently while Sid looked through the bag's contents. He found the box he was searching for, but before pulling it from the bag he carefully removed the cover and hid the object in his hand.

“Hurry up, daddy!”

“Patience is a virtue, Krista.”

Krista rolled her eyes and thought to herself, what does that mean anyway? As Krista looked up, she saw her mother walking into the living room, a dishtowel in her hand. She sat, joining Sid and Krista on the floor.

“What's all the fuss?” Sheila asked.

Sid looked at Sheila, leaned in and brushed his lips gently across hers. “Hello, sweetheart!”

“Good to have you back home, safe and sound.” Sheila leaned forward and returned his kiss.

“Eww! Mommy and daddy are kissing!” Krista giggled.

“You just wait fifteen years; it won't be so eww then.” Sheila reached over and tickled Krista under her arm sending her over backwards in a fit of giggles. When Krista had contained herself, she sat up again, pulling her sundress over her knees.

“Are you ready?” Sid saw excitement as well as apprehension in Krista's eyes.

“Sid!” Sheila warned, “I don't think now –”

Sid interrupted with a smile. “It's okay.” He reached over and patted Sheila's hand. After six years of marriage, his smile still managed to melt her heart.

“Now this…”Sid turned his attention back to his daughter, his hand still hidden in the backpack, “is something I found especially for you.”

Krista felt that funny feeling in her tummy, Mommy called them butterflies, but Krista wasn't so sure.

“What is it?” Krista scooted a little closer, driving the back of her dress where it didn't belong. She squirmed a little, then finally reached under herself to flatten it out. All at once, she realized she had gotten too close for her liking. She stretched her legs out in front and inched back; her bare feet barely touched her father's crossed legs. Krista felt she was at a safe distance. She was still able to see what her father had when he opened his hand, and at the same time, her outstretched legs would prevent him from moving too close, just in case he had something she didn't like. It wouldn't be the first time he'd brought something home that frightened her. She wiggled her toes and watched as the pink sparkly nail polish her mother had applied caught the light from a lone sunbeam shining in through the living room window.

Sid waited for his daughter to settle down. “Are you ready now?” He looked at Sheila; she wore a slight look of concern on her face. If there was one thing the two of them had in common, it was how easily their faces could be read.

“Yup, but open slowly,” Krista said.

Sid did as his daughter asked and slowly opened his curled fingers to reveal a small starfish. Krista craned her neck to get a better look as Sid moved his hand toward his daughter.

“What is it?” she asked, pulling her legs under her so that she now rested on her knees. She inched forward. In this position, she could get up in a hurry and run to the safety of her bedroom if she had to.

“It's a starfish,” Sid said, happy for once his daughter hadn't immediately sprung to her feet running and screaming to her room.

“Did it come from the ocean?” Krista folded her arms protectively against her body and scrutinized the small object her father held in his hand. She wasn't ever going to let anything from the ocean touch her.

Sid hesitated for a moment, knowing his answer would more than likely cause Krista to make a hasty get away. “Yes.”

“I don't like it!” Krista whined and jumped to her feet, her arms still crossed and pressed tightly against her.

“But, honey, it can't hurt you.” Sheila stood up and placed a protective arm around Krista's shoulders.

“I don't like it!” Krista yelled, stomping her foot for effect.

“But, Sunshine –” Sid moved to his knees, holding out the starfish.

“Mary says everything in the ocean is bad and to stay away.” Krista pulled away from her mother's grasp and stomped back to her room closing the door behind her. As soon as she closed the door, she remembered that she wasn't allowed to have it closed. She quickly opened it again before plunking herself on the floor and resuming her colouring.

Sid looked at Sheila who reached out a helping hand. He took it and as he stood up, pulled her close to him while his other hand closed protectively over the starfish. “Who is Mary?” he said, brushing his lips over the top of Sheila's head.

Sheila pushed herself away in a playful manner and rested her hands on Sid's chest at arm's length. “Oh that! Well that would be, I guess, what you'd call an imaginary friend.”

Sid's eyes widened, and he shook his head laughing, “Imaginary friend huh, since when?”

“Oh! About three days now, and you should know – she's having those dreams again.”

One

The air was cold; she shivered and gathered her wool cloak pulling it tightly around her. Small daggers of ice formed inside her nostrils, stinging her with every breath she took. She brought a gloved hand to her face and cupped her mouth and nose trying to ease the sting, it helped – but not much.

“Pardon me.” She pushed past the other passengers; ignoring the calls from her family to come back. With slow but determined steps she made her way to the front.

“Get back, girl,” an annoyed man cried as she tried to push past him. The large and foreboding man glared down at her as she stood no taller than his armpits.

“P-please sir, let me p-pass,” she stuttered as much from fear as from the cold.

The man looked at her and scowled.

Despite her fear, she stood her ground, determined to move to the front.

“John, let her pass, she's nay but a young girl,” a frail woman said laying a gentle hand on his arm.

The girl looked at the woman whose kind voice and gentle touch seemed to soften the glare of the man she'd called John.

John looked at his wife and back to the girl; whose gaze clearly indicated the urgency she felt. “Fine, go ahead then, but mind who you're pushing against, they might not take too kindly to it.”

The girl sighed with relief. “Thank you, sir; ma'am.” The couple moved aside and let her pass.

At last, after what seemed like several minutes, the girl had made her way to the railing of the ship. She looked down at the people on the docks and strained her eyes for a familiar face in the crowd. The other passengers around her were shouting and crying as they waved goodbye to their families and friends. The girl looked to the sky as seagulls screeched under cover of the fog high above like invisible sirens warning of danger. Below, the waves lapped against the hull; icy fingers grabbing and clawing, like the hands of the starving.

The wind whipped the girl's long, dark hair into her face. Sweeping it away with her cold, aching fingers, she searched the dock one last time, hoping to find him amongst the crowd of well-wishers. Without warning, they slowly pulled away, the distance between the ship and the docks grew. For a brief moment she panicked, she was not going to see him; he did not come to say goodbye. She stared down at the icy cold water and shivered as a tear rolled down her cheek. The churning pattern of water and ice, held her gaze.

“Mary!”

Suddenly a voice freed her from her trance. “Thomas, Thomas, I'm here!” Mary called out towards the throng of well-wishers who stood waving on the docks. She leaned out over the railing, trying to find him. At last, she saw his arm waving above the crowd as he pushed himself to the front. “Thomas!” Mary waved her arms franticly, the people around her stared as though she'd gone mad, but she paid no heed.

The distance between them grew as the steam tugboat gathered speed, pulling the ship away from the docks and eventually out from London Harbour.

Thomas cupped his hands to his mouth. “Mary, I love you!”

The fog settled upon them, so that Mary could no longer make out the figures standing on the docks as the ship pulled further away.

“I love you, Thomas!” she cried out from the whiteness that swallowed her; the fog had taken over.

“I'll find you, Mary; I promise I will find you!”

As the fog lifted, sounds of waves and seagulls evolved into the sounds of rustling leaves, chirping birds, and squeals of delight from the neighbourhood children enjoying their first days of summer. Sleep and my dreams faded as consciousness began to take its hold. A breeze swept in through the open window, and my ears pricked to the sound of my lacy, white curtains fluttering in its path. I reached down and drew the sheet up under my chin; my eyes still closed. Rising from bed was not my preference, and it took great effort to fight the urge to open them. After all, it was my summer vacation, too.

“Just fifteen more minutes,” I whispered, half smiling. My mother always said, 'Talking to oneself was just thinking out loud.' It seemed her habits were just as hereditary as her traits and that annoyed me.

Remnants from my dream lingered in my mind, tempting me to return to sleep; a state that was more than welcome to invade my body. Unfortunately, the noises from outside kept interfering with any attempt I made to remain asleep, so with much regret, I gave in and opened my eyes. Staring up at the ceiling, my mind continued pushing the smallest fragments of my dream to the forefront. Yet, there was nothing tangible to cling to. Eventually, I rolled over and checked the time.

“Seven thirty!” I groaned – not exactly my idea of sleeping in.

The sudden ringing of the phone created yet another interruption to my intended relaxing Saturday after the long week I had suffered. I reached over to answer it and inadvertently knocked a book off the nightstand. It landed on the hardwood floor with a thunk.

“Hello!” I said; my voice still groggy with sleep. I hoped the caller would get the idea and perhaps call back later.

“Did I wake you up?” The all too familiar voice on the other end admonished.

“Hi, mom!” Sounding more alert, I sat up in bed and placed a pillow behind me, confident that a quick conversation was not in my near future.

“I hope you're not planning to waste the day in bed.”

I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

My mother continued in a much softer tone. “Would you like to join me for brunch this morning?”

If at that very moment my phone would have stopped working for some inexplicable reason, I would not have been happier. My plans for the day, already decided upon the night before, did not include spending the day with my mother. I tried to think of an excuse, but sadly, that was not one of my talents. I resigned to tell her the truth.

“Sorry mom, but I was planning on a quiet day, so I –”

“Honey, I hardly saw you at all last summer, and I'd really like for it to be different this time. Please join me for brunch, I'm not asking you to spend the entire day with me.”

It was going to be a different summer; she wasn't going to be seeing me at all, and the guilt she unwittingly made me feel, changed my mind.

“Fine, when and where?” I closed my eyes and gently struck my forehead with the heel of my left hand. Relaxing would have to wait until after brunch.

“How about Jane's?”

“Sure! What time?” I asked with fake enthusiasm.

We discussed meeting times, and though I preferred later, my mother's preference prevailed; we would meet just before the restaurant opened. By the time our conversation ended, there wasn't much time to get ready.

“Yeah – brunch!” I said sarcastically, putting the phone back in its cradle. My stomach growled in reply, and I laughed. “Well at least part of me wants to go.”

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, stood up, and accidentally stepped on the book I'd knocked down earlier. I bent forward and picked it up. The image of an old sailing ship on the cover held my gaze as I turned it over. My finger traced over the ship's billowing sails. After a moment, I returned the book to the nightstand and began the process of preparing for my brunch date with my mother, the picture of the ship already out of my mind.

Stepping into the shower, I closed my eyes, welcoming the feel of warm water as it washed over me. My anxiety slowly ebbed with each breath that passed through my lips. I had not envisioned having brunch with my mother at the beginning of my summer vacation.

“Maybe it won't be so bad,” I snickered, realizing as the words left my lips that brunch with Sheila Adams was never just brunch; there was always an ulterior motive.

Within half an hour, and still somewhat reluctant, I took a final look in the mirror and applied a small amount of make-up, tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, and smoothed down my floral print sundress. My shoulder-length, blond hair caught a sunbeam shining in through the window, and it glistened; reminding me of the pet name my father had given me. Examining myself closer, there was without question, a definite inheritance of my mother's height and slim build. However, it was always my father's bright-green eyes and pouty lips that reflected back from the mirror.

Satisfied with my appearance, I looked at the time. There was a call that needed placing but little time to spare. However, if it wasn't made, it most certainly would be forgotten.

“Where did I put that phone number?”

I searched my nightstand and the floor around it, before crouching down and looking under my bed. Nothing but a few dust bunnies greeted me. 'Housework' had now become next on my list, while pushing 'relaxing' to the bottom. Somehow a day planned for doing absolutely nothing was suddenly becoming a day full of everything.

Frustrated, I stood up and looked around my room once more. All of a sudden, I remembered the whereabouts of the missing notepaper. Picking up my book from the nightstand, I allowed it to fall open, and there between the pages lay the supposed missing piece of paper. With the page number committed to memory, I removed the notepaper and unfolded it.

It had always been a dream of mine to travel to England and that summer it was finally becoming a reality, but unfortunately, the trip would be alone. Originally, the plans had included my boyfriend, Brad, for the August trip. However, by the end of June, there was no denying that something was missing from our relationship. Thus, it was my decision to end it. More than ever, the inexplicable need to escape had grown stronger, and August had seemed too far away. My plans had to change.

After I had researched for some time, I found a tour guide agency that suited my needs and contacted them by e-mail. They had responded quickly, and fortunately, there was a guide available despite the short notice. His name was Aaron, and he had promptly let me know that under the circumstances he would only be able to fit me in between his other bookings. That idea had suited me fine, for I felt a great need, which couldn't be explained, for exploring on my own. All that week, we had exchanged e-mails, planning my itinerary for the dates he was available.

With my vacation quickly coming into shape, there remained only one other issue to take care of and that was finding accommodations. Not wanting to stay in a hotel for the next couple of months, I had intended on finding a place to rent. The task, after a few days of searching, proved to be difficult. Feeling discouraged, I finally e-mailed Aaron and asked for his help. His reluctance was evident in his reply, but in the end, he had agreed. After several days of exchanging e-mails, Aaron had called to finalize my holiday plans, but sadly, that had not included accommodations. It was agreed that if he hadn't found anything before my arrival, I would stay at a bed and breakfast or hotel. Our conversation had been short, and I realized afterwards I hadn't told him my arrival time at Heathrow.

My call to Aaron would have to be quick. My eyes glanced at the clock again as my hand stretched for the phone. Just as I was about to pick up the receiver, it rang.

“Hello?” I half expected to hear my mother's voice again on the other end but prayed that it wasn't.

“Good morning, Krista, I hope I'm not troubling you.”

As soon as the caller spoke, relief washed over me – my prayer answered. The tension released from my shoulders as I sat on the bed. Words, coated with enthusiasm, spilled from my lips. There was a moment of silence, and then I realized my exuberance had caught him off guard.

“Sorry, I thought you might be someone else… and quite happy you aren't.”

“Oh, I see! Well I won't keep you; I just need to know your arrival into Heathrow and to let you know–”

“Just why I was about to call you,” I interrupted. “I should be there by nine-thirty A.M. Should I just take a cab to my accommodations – assuming I have a place to stay by then?” I rambled as I opened the nightstand drawer and began rifling through its contents, searching for a pen.

“I can pick you up if you'd like and take you to your accommodations, save you the extra cost.”

My muscles tensed a little and several thoughts bounced around my head. Should I take him up on his offer? The savings would be great, but is this really part of the deal? What do I do?

As though reading my thoughts, Aaron continued, “I have on occasion picked up clients and taken them to their lodgings, but if you prefer…”

“No, that's okay; I'll meet you at the airport. I just hope you'll have a place to take me to by then.” I half joked, still counting on him to find me an apartment to rent.

“Well, I have good news on that matter. As of last night, I managed to find…”

Aaron's voice began to fade. My mind filled with swirling thoughts. Visions of England flashed in my mind as though I was leafing through a travel magazine. My dream trip was becoming a reality. My heart pounded and a wide grin spread across my face. It took all my energy not to start bouncing up and down. Another thought flitted through my head and suddenly my smile disappeared and was replaced by a stomach filled with butterflies. I ran my hand through my hair and bit my lip.

“…It's a bit of a drive…” Aaron's voice broke through my jumbled thoughts only to fade away again.

Would it go as planned? Would it be everything that I imagined?

Apprehension was building in the pit of my stomach; it was as if a spark had suddenly burst into flame. I closed my eyes tightly and snuffed it out, staunching any negative thoughts. I forced myself back to reality, fully aware that everything Aaron had said was lost.

“Is that alright with you?” he asked.

I scrunched my forehead, searching my memory for even a trace of what he had said. My preoccupation with my own thoughts and feelings had blocked out just about everything. Closing my eyes, I attempted to make sense of the bits and pieces that floated around in my mind, while the silence between us grew.

“Hello? Are you still there?” he asked.

“I'm so sorry Aaron I was looking for a pen to write down the information and… I'm sorry, what did you say about where I would be staying?” The heat rose in my ears from embarrassment as I abandoned my feeble excuse. I covered the mouthpiece with my hand and exhaled, happy he couldn't see me.

“Bourton-on-the-Water in Gloucestershire. It's a small village about an hour and half drive from the airport.” There was no hint of irritation in his voice.

“So I guess that means you found a place for me to rent?” A wide grin crept across my face. The prospect of having my own place was exciting and it was all I could do to keep from sounding like a child on Christmas morning.

“Er… yes, as I said, it's a flat; I just hope it's what you are searching for.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. My hands stopped their hunt for the elusive pen, the drawer was so full of junk it was a wonder I could find anything at all.

“The thing is… you'll be staying at my aunt's,” he blurted, just as my eyes spotted a pen.

I was silent for a moment. “Your aunt's?”

“Let me explain.”

“Please do.”

Aaron began to clarify that his aunt's home had a vacant apartment on the second floor, and she was quite willing to rent it to me for the summer at a discount. He explained that she was a kind and loving woman and assured me she didn't gossip or meddle, her only fault being that she could be a bit chatty. It sounded perfect.

“So you have no objection?” Aaron asked when he finished his account.

“No, not at all, it sounds absolutely perfect!”

“Right then, well I guess that's it. If you have any questions just send an e-mail or ring, you have my number?”

I looked at his number on the piece of paper still clutched in my hand and circled it with the pen I'd retrieved from the drawer. “Yeah, I've got it right here.”

“Good, well I guess I will see you soon.”

“Yeah, I guess so… thank you so much and I'm sorry for being distracted, my mind wanders sometimes,” I confessed.

He laughed. “No worries, I too have that same affliction.”

We said our goodbyes and hung up. I put my notepaper and pen down on the nightstand and flopped back on my unmade bed. I groaned, embarrassed for admitting to him about my wandering mind. The whole trip still seemed surreal to me. It wasn't often that dreams came true, most especially mine. I laid there for a few minutes listening to the birds chirping outside, closing my eyes, and allowing myself to drift in and out of consciousness.

“Oh crap!” I sat up on my bed and looked at the clock; it was ten after nine. I was undeniably late, and my mother was not going to be impressed. If there was one thing she didn't like, it was tardiness, and short of death, there was no excuse.

I made my bed, quickly throwing the pale yellow and blue comforter on top of the crumpled sheets.

“That'll have to do.”

I picked up my book, returned the notepaper between the appropriate pages, and was suddenly preoccupied with the image of the ship on the front cover once again. As I stood there, I found myself immersed in memories from my dream.

Mary stood on the deck of a ship looking out at the people as they slowly pulled away from the docks. She searched the docks with her eyes, looking for someone. At long last, she saw him standing there; it was Thomas. Her heart sank when he waved and called to her. The ache in her chest grew stronger the further they drifted until eventually he disappeared under a thick blanket of fog. She felt sick to her stomach as tears slid down her cheeks. At that moment, Mary felt a warm hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw her father standing next to her. Without a word, he put his arm around her and gently guided her away, leading her to shelter.

I closed my eyes and shook my head, dislodging the image unfolding in front of me. When my eyes opened again, a single tear rolled down my cheek. I tasted its saltiness as it touched my lips, and I shivered. The tear dripped onto the notepaper, blurring Aaron's name.

Two

Being a private tour guide wasn't the profession Aaron Dyer had desired for himself; rather it found him when his lifelong friend, Peter, started the business. He had invited Aaron, who wasn't certain what he planned on doing with his life, to join him. The first five years went quickly, but now Aaron was beginning to find the job somewhat tedious. Though he enjoyed meeting new clients and showing them around the country he loved, it was becoming more difficult to show enthusiasm and appreciation for the same landmarks time and time again. He tried to make each tour unique, not just for the client but also for the sake of his own sanity.

Aaron hung up the phone and smiled as he replayed the conversation he'd just had with Krista. There was softness in her voice that comforted him, and he looked forward to meeting her.

When Aaron first received Krista's e-mail, he had assumed she would be no different from any of his other clients. He had even been prepared to decline her request for a tour guide. His schedule was busy enough, and on such short notice, he had thought it would be impossible to accommodate her. However, as he read her e-mail, he soon realized he had been mistaken. Though she had expressed some interest in a few of the usual tourist attractions, she was more interested in visiting smaller villages and the countryside. She wanted to explore, go on hikes, and spend time on her own. Moreover, unlike most of his clients who wanted to spend their entire vacation time in London, Krista had only wished to visit for a couple of days. Not all the tourist sites and landmarks seemed to excite her. After realizing what she had intended from her trip, Aaron knew that he could manage. He would fit her in amid his other clients during her extended stay, even if it meant he'd have to give up some of his own free time.

Aaron had responded to Krista directly, he felt thrilled by the challenge and spurred on by an almost instant renewed interest in his fortuitous occupation. There were, however, a couple of issues. The first was that he had a limited amount of time to spend with her. He would fit her in when he could, and when he couldn't, he wanted to ensure that she was staying somewhere interesting with plenty to do on her own. The second, and perhaps the most daunting task, was finding her suitable accommodations, a request she had made in a subsequent e-mail. Now he was not only tour guide, but estate agent as well.

Finally, after a week of planning Krista's itinerary, he was satisfied. It had taken up a lot of his time, and he'd spent every evening from both his office and home searching not only for destinations to take her to, but also for suitable lodgings – the latter being the most complicated. It wasn't until he'd spoken with his aunt that an idea occurred, and he'd finally found the perfect place for her to stay. He couldn't remember ever spending so much time on an itinerary, he was almost obsessed. With the planning stage finally over, Aaron could concentrate on his other patrons.

He sat at his desk and looked at his calendar to ensure that preparations were in order for his next clients. It would be a short excursion, and then he'd have a couple of days to rest. Before long, he was so absorbed in his work that when the phone rang, it startled him.

“Hello!” he said, his heart pounding a little faster than normal.

“Hello Aaron, it's Doc Broon,” said the serious and very familiar voice on the other end.

Doc Brown was the family physician and had been since Aaron was a young boy. He remembered the first time he'd met Doc Brown, and how he'd had a hard time understanding the Doc with his strong Scottish brogue.

“Is it Mum? Is she alright?” He ran a shaky hand through his this dark hair, unable to contain his worry.

“She's fine, nae changes to her condition, but I am a wee troubled. I've just come from visiting with her and her emotional state concerns me. She says she hasn't heard from ye this past week, and she's beginning to fash that she's becoming a burden.”

“What? Nah, I've just been busy with work, that's all. I'll come straight away and sort things out with Mum. I don't know why she would think that, she'll never be a burden to me.” Aaron rubbed his cheek, the stubble rough on his palm.

“I ken Aaron, but sometimes… well she hasn't much time, perhaps six months, maybe a year at the most. We need to keep her positive, despite the prognosis.”

“Yeah, sure doc. Thanks for keeping me informed. I'll come see her straight away. I'm done for today anyway, it'll be a nice drive.”

“All right, Aaron, mind as ye go and don't droon yourself in your work.”

“Yeah doc, I'll take your advice – for now anyway. Cheers.”

Aaron hung up the phone and put his head in his hands. He had been so worried about his mother since her diagnosis and never missed a visit or a call until that past week. He felt badly that his mother would even think of such a notion that she was becoming a burden to him. He silently promised himself that he wouldn't allow work to come ahead of family again. Aaron lifted his head, shut down the computer, and gathered his things before rising from his chair.

“Hey, where are you off to?”

Aaron looked up to see Peter standing in the doorway. “Going to see Mum.” Aaron pushed his chair back under the desk.

“Is she alright mate?” Peter folded his arms, leaned against the door jam, and looked intently at Aaron.

“Just a little depressed, I thought I'd go and cheer her up.”

“Can I come? You know she's always been like a mum to me too.”

Aaron remembered the many hours Peter had spent at his home when they were young boys. “Yeah, I think she'd like that, the more the merrier. Just give me a moment with her alone before you come and show your ugly face,” Aaron said, forcing a smile.

“Yours is uglier; but sure, I can do that.”

Three

Sheila Adams finally found a parking spot about two blocks away from the restaurant where she and Krista were going to have brunch. She looked at her watch; it was twenty-five past nine, she was ten minutes late.

“Damn,” she said.

In so many years, Sheila had never been late, not once, especially not when meeting with her daughter. She'd spent too much time and energy trying to set the perfect example that the expression 'better late than never' didn't exist for Sheila. Still, she was late. She couldn't tell Krista about Jim, it wasn't the right time, yet she could not think of an excuse. She only hoped Krista wouldn't ask her why she was late, or even better, be late herself.

Sheila shrugged. “Oh well,” she said and got out of her car.

When she reached the line-up, Sheila searched the small crowd of people waiting to get in and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that Krista wasn't among them. She joined the others as the doors opened and filed into the restaurant. Sheila headed for a corner table at the back; she wanted to sit somewhere that was somewhat private. She had much to discuss with her daughter, and she didn't want too many ears to hear their conversation.

Sheila sat facing the window and looked at her watch again. Where is she? Before her overactive imagination came up with some horrible reason for Krista's lateness, a server approached the table.

“Good morning,” the server said in a cheery voice. “Are you dining alone or is someone joining you?”

“I'm waiting for someone, thank you.” Sheila smiled pleasantly at the young girl. She reminded her of Krista, only with darker hair.

“Can I get you anything to start while you wait for your guest?” The server returned the smile.

“Yes, a tea please.”

The server nodded and walked away, leaving Sheila staring out the window once again, wondering where Krista was.

“Sheila!” A voice coming from a neighbouring table interrupted her thoughts. Sheila turned and saw a woman with a smile on her face approaching her.

“Grace! Please sit down.” She motioned to the seat across from her. “How long has it been?” Sheila reached across the table and patted Grace's hand.

“Too long. Are you here alone?”

“Not for long, Krista is joining me.” Sheila watched as Grace began to dig through her purse searching for something. At last, she found what she was looking for and she handed a small album to Sheila.

“Take a look at these; I'm a grandmother now!” A wide grin stretched across Grace's face as Sheila took the small album from her hands.

“Oh! They're beautiful, how nice for you, and twins even!” Sheila's voice tainted with jealousy. Grace, however, engrossed with showing off pictures of her new grandchildren, didn't seem to notice the change in Sheila's tone.

“And what about you?” Grace sounded haughty. “I'm sure Krista has, by now, given you some lovely grandchildren of your own?”

Always such a meddler, Sheila thought as she put on her best fake smile. If she thinks for even one minute that I am jealous of her, she'll take it as far as she can. No, I mustn't let on for even a second. She has always tried to 'one-up-me' but not this time though, I won't let her.

“Grandchildren! Oh goodness no, I am far too young looking to be a grandmother just yet, but it suits you. You fit very well into the grandmother role. Besides, Krista has a wonderful career as a teacher. No, I can wait a bit longer.” Sheila smiled at Grace who no longer sat with a smug look on her face. “Speak of the devil, there's Krista now.”

Grace turned to look out the window. “Yes, well,” she said rising from her seat, running a hand through her silver hair. “I better go rejoin my husband. It was nice to see you again.” Her pursed lips relaxed into a smile.

Sheila echoed the sentiment in words and tone. “Yes, you, too. Maybe we can have lunch some time. Old friends are hard to come by, especially as we get older.” Sheila stood and hugged Grace. They smiled at each other one last time before Grace returned to her table.

Sheila returned to her chair and waited for Krista.

Four

Upon entering the restaurant, I spotted my mother seated at a table in the corner, looking out the window. Though fifty-two years, she looked much younger than most women of the same age did, and she painted the perfect picture of health. Most folks could hardly believe we were mother and daughter.

Her hair, like mine, was a honey blond but much shorter. She was holding a cup with one hand while tapping on the table with the other. It was hard to tell if she was upset that I was late or worried, either way she seemed to be deep in thought. I approached and slid into the bench seat across from her, an apology already on my lips. I was twenty minutes late.

“I'm so sorry I'm late. I was on my way out the door –”

“Don't worry dear, no need to explain,” she said, taking a sip from her cup.

I narrowed my eyes and subtly shook my head in disbelief. She was far too casual, and there was no doubt in my mind that she was up to something. There was no way she would have ever been so relaxed about my being late. From where I was sitting, things did not look good.

Just then, a server approached our table, and I was glad for the momentary distraction. Whatever my mother wanted, it could certainly wait.

“Good morning! Would you like some coffee?” The server greeted me with a pot in her hand. The aroma wafting out led me to believe it was strong, just what I needed.

“Yes, please.” I pushed my coffee cup toward her, watching as she filled it up.

“I'll be back in a couple of minutes to take your order.” She walked away, and I watched as she headed towards another table, wishing that she had stayed a few seconds longer, anything to keep my mother from bringing up whatever she had on her mind.

We picked up our menus, and by the time we each decided on our order, to my relief, the server returned. I was sure my mother was soon going to divulge the true reason behind our meeting.

When the server left with our orders, I stalled my mother for as long as possible by talking about the previous night's firework displays, the weather, and anything else I thought of to keep her preoccupied. Unfortunately, she kept her answers brief, and after five minutes, an uncomfortable silence fell over the table.

“So,” my mother began, “how's Brad?”

There it was. She wanted to talk about my relationship or rather my ex-relationship. I had just broken up with Brad last Saturday, and he'd had a hard time letting go. We had spoken almost every night at first until he finally understood me. I had loved him enough to know that he deserved better and more, even so it had been a difficult week. We had been together for one year, two months and five days – my longest relationship. I had cried myself to sleep every night after we spoke, worrying about him. Between speaking with Brad, seeking consolation from my friends, finishing the last week of school, and trying to change my travel plans, the week had been nothing but worry, stress, and tears. I did not want to relive it again with my mother.

“He's fine,” I said examining the fresh daisies in the vase sitting on the table before me and avoiding my mother's gaze. I knew that she'd guess the minute she looked at my eyes that I was hiding something. The only person I hadn't told about my breakup was her. In the past, it only resulted in her disappointment, and I believed it would be far worse than any time before. Brad had been her favourite.

“Fine? That's not what I've heard.”

I looked up from my distraction and found my mother staring at me. “What do you mean by that?” I didn't want to show any alarm, but suddenly I was worried about Brad, we hadn't spoken over the past three days.

“I ran into Brad's sister, and she told me you broke up with him.” She folded her arms and leaned forward on to the table.

“Where exactly did you run into her?” My eyebrows raised. I was surprised that she'd even remembered Brad had a sister let alone recognized her, after all they'd only met once or twice. Alicia was never one to wear the same look for very long; even I had difficulty recognizing her on occasion.

“I saw her at the YMCA last Monday… when I went swimming.”

I sputtered and almost choked on my coffee. “You go to the Y?”

The thought of my mother actually exercising was enough to stun me, let alone envision it, which of course I couldn't – at all.

“Yes, honey; I started last Monday. They have a great pool, and it's wonderful exercise.”

“Sorry mom, I just never took you as the exercising type.”

My mother ignored my statement. “Anyhow, I ran into Alicia, and she told me how you broke her brother's heart. I was quite shocked to hear the news and felt silly that I hadn't heard anything about it. So when were you planning on telling me?”

In truth, I did not intend to tell her. Certainly, it would have come out at some point in conversation, but as for calling her specifically for that reason alone – that wasn't going to happen. I shrugged. “I don't know.” It wasn't really the answer I knew she wanted to hear, but I just couldn't bring myself to get into any details about my love life or rather ex-love life. We weren't like that, we weren't close. We used to be – once.

“You don't know?” My mother's eyes widened with disbelief.

I sighed, “I just wanted to get this past week behind me. Breaking up with Brad wasn't easy, but it was for the best.” I was determined to show my mother that it was the right decision.

“Are you sure you breaking up with Brad was the right thing? You know by the time I was 27 years old I had been married for six years, and you were four.” My mother folded her hands and placed them on the table.

If there was one thing I knew about my mother, my answer wasn't going to be enough – I had to give her more, enough that would make her understand, enough that we could both live with.

“Believe me; it wasn't easy for me either. I loved Brad, but not the way he deserved. I didn't want to hurt him, but it's better this way. Trust me.” I blinked back the tears. My mother couldn't see me get emotional over it. It was over, and I was not going back to something that wasn't right. I sipped my coffee, hoping the warmth would take the edge off.

Seconds passed before she spoke again, and I could tell she was trying to choose her words carefully.

“I'm sorry. I just want you to be happy. I worry sometimes that… well, that you won't find someone special to spend your life with and selfishly… that I won't be a grandmother.”

Shocked, stunned, surprised – that was not what I had expected her to say.

“How can you be so sure he wasn't the right one for you?” She looked me in the eyes.

It was a difficult question to answer, but fortunately, the server came back with our meals, giving me some time to think. The moment she left, I carefully began forming my response; knowing if I didn't, my mother would hound me with more questions until I did.

“I don't know Mom. It's like there was something missing.”

“What was missing? I don't understand.”

I squinted, unsure that there was an explanation, and then it came to me. “Mom, you and dad had something special. Something even strangers could see when they looked at you.” My mother nodded, and I continued. “Uncle Brian said something about the way the two of you looked at each other. He said you shared a connection on a plain that was different from everyone else; like you belonged only to each other. That's what I want – that's what I was missing.” I took a bite of my food, happy for the momentary silence, and quite proud of myself for my explanation.

My mother reached across the table and patted my hand. “I want that for you, too,” she smiled.

I looked at her and for the first time, I really believed she understood me.

“Well, now that you're single again –”

“Mom I just –”

“Please let me finish. How soon do you think you'll want to start dating?”

I laughed. It wasn't funny, but I couldn't help myself. I looked at her in disbelief. “Geesh! Mom are you serious?”

She nodded, and I waited for her to finish eating so she could explain.

“I met some old friends of mine at the golf course and their son, Doug, has just ended a long relationship. It just occurred to me that you knew him back in school, and maybe you could meet him,” she rambled.

I almost choked again on my food. Of all things, my mother was playing golf and trying to set me up.

“Wait! Since when do you play golf?” I hoped for a long answer to my question and a distraction from her matchmaking.

“Oh…, I started about three weeks ago. So do you remember Doug Saunders, and more importantly, would you like to meet him?” She finished her last bite of food, placed her cutlery and napkin on her plate, and pushed it all to the side.

Her answer wasn't the result I was hoping for, and my shoulders slumped in resignation. There was no way to get around the matchmaking thing.

“No.” I shook my head. I couldn't believe what my mother was thinking. I finished my meal, pushing my plate aside. “God! I can't believe you're actually asking me if I'd be interested in meeting him!”

“Well no… Not right away, maybe in a few weeks when you're feeling up to it.”

My heartbeat quickened a little and my cheeks warmed. My mother wasn't exactly aware of the change of plans I'd made to my upcoming trip. If she was upset about me not telling her of my breakup, she was definitely going to be upset about me leaving for the whole summer, especially if she heard it from someone else.

“Mom, there's something else I need to tell you.” I leaned forward and clasped my hands in prayer fashion.

“What is it, honey?” There was a notable sound of concern in her voice. I had her full attention.

“I'm leaving for England a week from tomorrow,” I blurted.

Though her face didn't quite betray her feelings, her voice certainly did. “You're still going?” she asked.

“Yes, I'm still going. You know how long I have wanted this; I've been saving forever. I've finally got my chance, and I'm not going to back out now.” I was calm and sat back in my seat, my hands resting in my lap. My resolve was strong.

At that moment, our server returned, and my mother quickly asked her to bring our bill before she could even ask if we wanted anything else, sending her away a split second after she'd arrived at our table.

“So you're leaving soon. For how long?”

I took my time before answering. My mother was sure to be disappointed when she heard the news. I looked down at my hands and took a deep breath. “Ah… for the summer, I won't be back until the end of August.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but I reached over and touched her arm, stopping her.

“Please, I know you're upset, but I need this… I need to find… me.” I let out a breath and felt my shoulders relax as the epiphany struck.

She closed her eyes and nodded. “Okay,” she said quietly. “Okay.”

Her unexpected acceptance amazed me. She didn't try to talk me out of it instead she just sat there nodding, her eyes closed. When she opened them again, she looked at me and smiled. “Well I guess meeting Doug will have to wait for when you come home.”

“Huh! Yeah, okay,” I agreed shaking my head, what more was there to say.

I waited at the corner for the walk signal, realizing at that moment meeting my mother for brunch hadn't been too horrific. She had even taken the news of my plans for the summer better than expected, not to mention my breakup. My mind replayed our conversation, and I snickered a little recalling how soon she attempted matchmaking.

Our brunch continued playing in my head as I crossed the intersection and headed towards my car. My mother could have made things very uncomfortable, but she hadn't, and it was refreshing. She had changed somehow. It was as though we were beginning a new phase in our relationship, and that was appealing. There was definitely a sense of freedom and relief knowing that I could concentrate fully on my trip and not have to worry about anything else.

Just as I was about to round the corner, I sidestepped abruptly to avoid stepping in a rather large pile left behind by man's best friend. Shaking my head at the thought of the irresponsible owner coupled with my sudden movement – the collision was inevitable. I veered into the path of an unsuspecting pedestrian rounding the corner from the opposite direction and slammed right into him. For a moment, we held each other's gaze, stunned by the impact, much like a bird that has flown into a window. His eyes were so penetrating that I had to look away, though there was something so familiar about them.

“Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to…” I blurted, bending down to pick up my purse.

“That's okay; I wasn't paying any attention and…” I heard him say as I bent forward and suddenly found my head knocking into his.

“Ow!” I stood up quickly and rubbed the top of my head.

“Ooh! Sorry!”

My purse dangled from his hand while his other pressed against his forehead. We stood for an uncomfortable second staring at each other in silence.

“Can I have my purse now?” I said annoyed, still rubbing the top of my head.

“Oh! Sorry!” He held out my purse.

“Thanks.” I snatched it from his hand.

“Sure, no problem.”

We stared at each other again, and again I had to look away.