"d.a.m.n it, why do you have to be like this now? Why can't you just get a grip for a month or two while we all get settled in?"

Jessie stared at him. "I'm trying to like it here, Dad, but I . . ."

Rick sighed and shook his head sadly. "Whether you are or aren't, let's be very clear about one thing; if you leave this house without our permission, you'd better take your suitcase with you because we're not putting up with you breaking the rules without any consequences. We came here to make a fresh start."

Jessie closed her eyes and draped her arm over her face. Without thinking, she suddenly saw one of Cate's memories of a time when her father stood over her yelling at her for something she couldn't explain, either. Only, in her memory, Cate was calm-poised even. Cate was sure of herself and the thing she had done. Surely, Jessie could tap into those memories and make them part of her own. It was certainly worth a try.

Opening her eyes and lowering her arm, Jessie willed herself to be composed. "Dad, do you want to listen to me or stand there in judgment?"

Rick's mouth opened and closed like the hinges had suddenly broken.

"I'm not a drug user anymore. I've met a few kids from town who wear leather and have been really nice to me, but I am not about to get involved with anyone who uses drugs. I promised Daniel, and I have never broken a promise to him yet."

Rick sat on the bed. "I wish I could believe you."

Before Jessie could reply, Daniel came running to her door. "Jessie, that lady is here to see you!"

88 *89.

Jessie jumped off the bed and sprang past her father. "Ceara came?"

"Who?" Rick asked after his daughter.

Without stopping to answer, Jessie flew down the stairs to the first level where Reena was sitting on the sofa chatting with Madame Ceara.

"Madame Ceara," Jessie said, slowing her gait a little. "I'm so glad you stopped by."

Ceara turned to Jessie and offered her a gentle smile. "I was in the neighborhood and I thought I'd stop by and see how the new place is coming. Just like you said, it's really quite beautiful." Ceara turned back to Reena and held her gaze for half a second. "I do hope Jessie didn't bore you with tales of my house. Many of the kids in town go on and on about it."

"Your home?"

Ceara nodded. "The boat, where I live. I'm afraid I kept her chatting with me beyond her curfew. When you get as old as I am, and a young person shows an interest in what you have to say, you have a tendency to drone on a bit. I do apologize for keeping her on the boat so late."

Reena's mouth had the same broken hinge as Rick's; only she managed to find some words. "Oh . . . yes . . . the boat."

"Once she saw how late it was, she scooted off the boat. You have a good girl there, Mrs. Ferguson. She is very respectful, not to mention a wonderful listener. Del said he'd hire her if-"

"Del?"

"From the donut shop. He's always talking about what a breath of fresh air Jessie is. He said he would hire her in a heartbeat if he ever needed the help, but he knows, like we all do, how much time and energy these Victorians take up. I appreciate you giving Jessie some time to rattle around with an old coot like me. It's been a long time since I've had any girls wishing to chat with me."

Rick joined them and stared at Reena, who had lost what few words she had sc.r.a.ped together.

"But look at me rambling on. Please excuse my long-windedness. I appreciate the tour of the inn, Mrs. Ferguson. You've really done some *

90 *91.

wonderful things with the place. Jess said you had the designer touch, and she's right. You've really prettied up the old gal."

"Thank you. Feel free to come up any time."

"I'll do that." Ceara rose slowly. "Jessie, would you mind at all walking me down the hill? Down is harder on these old bones than up." Turning to Rick and Reena, Ceara asked them if it was okay. Like twin bobble-head dolls, they silently nodded up and down, up and down. "She's a good girl, Mr. Ferguson. I don't let just anyone on my boat, but I knew right off that your daughter is good people."

Not wasting a second of her precious freedom, Jessie hooked her arm through Ceara's and steered her out the door and down the steps.

When they were safely out of earshot, Jessie threw her arms around her and hugged her tightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. G.o.d that was perfect timing."

Ceara held Jessie's arm as they carefully picked their way down the driveway. "I didn't show up coincidentally, my dear. Remember what I said about coincidences."

"Then you-"

"Heard you? Yes, I did."

"You-heard-me."

"Shouldn't I have? You did call me, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, I mean, no, I mean, I needed to talk to you, yes, but I had no idea you'd just come."

"Well, here I am. Imagine that. Now what is it that got you so fired up?"

Jessie walked along with her arm through Ceara's, making sure she didn't slip or fall. When they got to the bottom of the drive, Jessie inhaled deeply and took the plunge. "I know who she was."

Ceara came to a dead stop. "What did you say?"

"Her name is, was Cate, and she wore the white robe of the Druids, just like you said. I think-I'm pretty sure she's a priestess."

A knowing smile broke out on Ceara's face, and her eyes came to life with a colorful sparkle Jessie had never seen, making her look years younger. "Oh, my dear, but that is the most wonderful news! I am so very proud of you! Bravo!"

90 *91.

"There's more."

The smile broadened, and Jessie thought she saw a glimmer of a tear, but couldn't tell for sure in the light. "The woman with the gray eyes is named Maeve and she is in some sort of danger. I think, well, I'm not sure about this, but I think that's the reason Cate came through the fold."

Ceara nodded and resumed their walk. "Then you believe this Cate has come on behalf of Maeve?"

Jessie nodded. "I do. I feel how important Maeve is to Cate. She is the reason for all of this traveling about, but I'm just not sure why yet."

"What happened this time?"

"I went through, and remembered nothing, until I started for my bathrobe, and then I had this flash, like a deja vu, and then I saw her- well, saw not as in looked at, but felt her there. It could have been the memory of the trip, but I felt something. I was-what's the word?"

"Transported?"

"That's it. I felt transported. When I looked down at my robe, I was her looking at her robe. It was cool and-disconcerting-and so incredibly real."

"Excellent. The two of you are making progress. You're moving toward a place where you might have a chance to meet. It happens, I'm told, on the dream plane. There have been others who have experience with meeting their old souls. I'll see if I can find some articles about it."

"What do you mean meet?"

"Meet. Stand face-to-face and see each other. Anything is possible in the Dreamworld if one knows how to access it."

"Now, that would be weird."

"Why? You are not she. You share a soul, but Cate is not you. She has experiences from her own life, feelings wholly different from yours.

This will be much easier if you try to see her as a being separate from you."

"Because she is."

Ceara nodded. "How does it feel to have memories your physical *

92 *93.

being never experienced?"

Jessie looked up through the gray clouds at the stars winking at her.

"This must have been how Alice felt when she fell down the rabbit hole. It feels both real and unreal, good and bad, light and dark. It is the perfect dichotomy, the perfect blend of opposites."

Ceara stopped, raising an eyebrow at Jessie, who shrugged.

"Well, that sure as h.e.l.l wasn't me," Jessie said, shaking her head. "I don't even know what a dichotomy is."

Nodding, Ceara continued. "She is a strong priestess, this Cate. She has done well."

"She can't, like, take my body over, can she?"

Ceara looked up at the sky, but said nothing.

"Ceara?"

After a short while, Ceara returned her gaze to Jessie. "A body can only be possessed if the original inhabitant allows the possession to take place, so no, you have no worries there. She may be a very strong priestess, but you are equally strong, if not more so, because you have your combined soul's memories. Fear not, Jessie Ferguson, it may feel like you have just fallen into the rabbit hole, but in reality, you have just learned how to do what few people can. You should be proud. It is a privilege to be chosen. Cate was chosen, therefore, so were you."

"Chosen? By whom?"

"By the head Druid priest. Few Druids have the capability to do what Cate has done. It is the mark of greatness, of one with powers beyond those of a simple Druid. Someone has trained her, guided her, and taught her how to use the portal. She was chosen."

Jessie sighed. It felt so complex. "You know what's so weird?"

"What?"

"How not weird the memories feel to me. When I looked at the robe, I was so not in my bathroom anymore. I've done nothing but think about past life things lately, and what surprises me is how much sense it all makes."

Ceara chuckled. "It is an interesting concept when a society spends millions of dollars trying to make sense of phobias and whatnot that we each carry with us. So much of how we feel about certain things comes *

92 *93.

not from this world, but from a past one."

Jessie stopped beneath the streetlight at the end of Morning Glory.

"You mean like why I have this total aversion to those papier mache heads at Mardi Gras? Or my dislike of Chinese dragons?"

"Precisely. I have a client who's been phobic about circuses since she was a little girl. When she was eight, her parents had wrestled her into the car to go to the circus, but she would not go. She hates the smell of the circus, the clowns, the center ring, everything that is symbolic of the circus." Ceara paused to look both ways before crossing the street.

"Yet, she's never been to the circus, never seen one on TV and never read a book or magazine article about them. As a little girl, she knew one thing: she was absolutely not going to go."

"Wow."

"Yes. So, where do such extreme emotions come from, if not from the soul's memory?"

"Why was she seeing you?"

"She wanted a past life reading. Normally, I don't do this, but she really needed some questions answered."

"And did you answer them?"

"Perhaps even more than she wanted. When I told her that she had been a gay man in a circus and her trapeze partner had let her fall to her death, she went white as a ghost. It was then she told me about her circus phobia. And, of course, her fear of bridges and heights. Poor woman had no idea why these things frightened her. She just wanted some understanding."

Chills ran up and down Jessie's arms. "That's some scary stuff."

"Not scary, Jessie. Scary is not knowing. Knowing gives us power, and that power has the ability to change your life."

"Then what you're saying is that everyone is walking around not listening to themselves."

"Exactly, and that is why we are all so lost, so confused, too wrapped up in this sort of therapy or that. We spend thousands of dollars trying to fill a void that would be sated if we only recognized who we really are. The self-help industry is booming because civilized man cannot explain his absolute state of misery and emptiness. Once Christianity *

94 *95.

came along and virtually replaced the notion of the transmigration of souls, western civilization stopped hearing those voices that had been heard from one generation to the next. The Druid practice is about remembering one's ancestors, remembering the past. They knew how important it was to the growth of a soul, but after the Christians plundered the world, they silenced the joy, history and wisdom by accepting the singular notion that we have but one chance to achieve eternal bliss, and only one avenue to travel to get there. Voices silenced, the Christians were free to pursue men's souls."

Jessie sighed. How often had she heard her parents rail on about heaven and the slim chances of getting there. It was exhausting trying to figure out what const.i.tuted a sin, or if G.o.d was to be feared, loved or both. She had never truly understood her parents' fear of a G.o.d who was supposed to love them. "But those of us who do remember face so much doubt from others we risk winding up in a rubber room counting the tiles in the ceiling."

"Yes, and therein lies the danger of a religion that so quickly disposed of the others to the point that anything not it is viewed as an aberration. You'd have as hard a time convincing the world about the seam as they would convincing you there's no such thing as a soul."

"But I have proof. I've been there and back."

Ceara shook her head. "Jessie, not just anyone can slip through the seams of time. Believe me, people who thought they could simply enter the Sacred Place have disappeared and never returned. It is sacred for a reason. For many reasons."

A notion occurred to Jessie. "Is that what the Bermuda Triangle is?

A fold?"