Once Again (21 page)

“We were just reacting to the dream,” he
said. “To how scared we were.”

He might well have a point, but why couldn’t
it also be a reaction to what we felt for each other? The stupid,
insecure girl inside me – who argued a guy like Luke could never
really be interested in me – knew exactly why.

“It wasn’t just about being scared,” I said
softly. At least it hadn’t been for me.

“Considering the timing, what just exploded
between us was more about the fear than our feelings for each
other. A weird sort of assurance that neither one of us was dead,
like what we saw in the dream.”

I nodded. It made sense, the powerful need to
get closer to each other, to hold on tight. We needed that
affirmation of life I supposed.

The difference was, I needed it because I
loved him.

“I’m really sorry, Layla,” he repeated. “I
shouldn’t have handled you that way.”

Unable to say what was on my mind – that I
had been as much, or more, a participant as him – I just shook my
head.

“Do you think you could stay down here?” I
asked. “Just a little longer?”

And could I have sounded any more
desperate?

I hated myself in that moment, but despite
the fact that we’d reassured one another we were indeed, very much
alive, I still wasn’t quite ready to let him out of my sight.

His answer was to wedge himself against the
back of the couch, lying on his side. He lifted his arms in
invitation, and I cuddled next to him, my back against his
front.

It felt warm and safe and right. And though
my insecurities reared their ugly heads, there was no keeping
myself from enjoying the feeling of his arms around me.

Even if I had to regret it later.

I was asleep in minutes.

***

This time the dream came peacefully.

We were in the back yard of Emerson House. Or
rather, the people we’d once been were. They were older than us,
but only slightly, as if they were young adults at the very
beginning of their lives together.

It played out in my mind like scenes in a
movie. I was aware that what I was seeing was not really happening,
and I was free to watch or turn it off at my discretion.

She hung laundry on a line strung between
trees. He pretended to help but really only tried to distract her.
Hiding behind shirts and pants and blankets, he would peek out and
try to startle her. I could tell it didn’t work because all she did
was giggle at him.

I was glad to see them happy, playful. Lucas
and I had had too little of that. I imagined it was really the two
of us... really Lucas and Layla... laughing and carefree.

He jumped out from behind a large blanket or
towel and grabbed her by the waist. Though I knew it was a dream, I
felt his arm around me, pulling my close to him.

At once I was no longer simply watching, but
rather
in
the dream. I
was
her, with all her feelings
and sensations. I looked through her eyes, felt with her heart. And
what was inside her for this man was stronger than I’d ever
imagined any feeling could be.

I was comforted by the assurance that being
in the dream was my choice, and I could choose to stop at any
time.

He kissed her. Well, it actually felt more
like
Lucas
kissing
me
. I melted into him, letting him
press me against him and wrap me in his arms. When the kiss ended
and he looked at me, it was with wicked mischief. I chuckled at his
expression, even as he grabbed my hand and began running toward the
house.

Together we tumbled, laughing, through the
back door of our home.

I
woke from the dream the same way I’d gone into it. Peaceful and
calm. The first threads of daylight spilled through the window of
Lucas’s living room, and his arm tightened around me.

Shifting around until I lay on my back, I
looked up at him, and found his eyes already open and staring down
at me.

The darkness was lifting outside,
illuminating the living room a bit, and I found with the promise of
daylight, my doubts were somewhat less.

I guess it’s true about things always seeming
worse in the middle of the night.

“That was a nice one,” he whispered. “I think
they were trying to make up for the last dream.”

“Maybe so.” I smiled up at him. “I think they
wanted us to know their life wasn’t always so awful. It was like
they wanted to show us they had happy times too.”

“I’m glad they did,” he said. “I like
thinking of them that way.”

“Me too.”

“We probably shouldn’t be like this when my
mom gets up.” He pushed himself into a sitting position. “She
wouldn’t freak out or anything, but I don’t want to give her any
reason to think she shouldn’t trust us.”

“Are you going back upstairs?”

He cut his eyes toward the La-Z-Boy. “I think
I’ll hang out in the recliner. Mom won’t think anything about that,
especially once we tell her about the dream.”

“Will you tell her about both dreams?” I
asked, wondering how Luke would feel telling his mom about seeing
the two of us happy and in love.

“We can keep the second one to ourselves.” He
winked and moved without noise to the recliner. “I think it was
their gift to us.”

“Okay.” I snuggled down under the blanket
again.

Luke pulled a crocheted afghan from the back
of the sofa and settled into the chair. The small afghan barely
stretched the long length of his legs, and didn’t even come close
to covering his chest. I supposed the Sky Cove Senior High tee
shirt kept him warm enough.

“It’s way early, Layla,” he whispered. “May
as well get a little more sleep.”

I smiled, closed my eyes, and thought what a
wonder it was that even after that terrible dream I could still
feel giddy and happy.

With a smidgen of insecurity tossed in.

Uncertainty and reservation hovered in the
back of my mind, but I shoved them away. I resolved to enjoy every
moment with Luke, even if it meant heartbreak when our journey was
over. If Luke’s feelings for me ended once we solved the mystery of
our pasts, so be it. I would have these memories to keep with me
always.

***

Gwen’s bedroom door creaked open and
footsteps started down the hall. Not quite awake enough yet, I kept
my eyes closed, thinking to myself if I just laid here a little
longer I wouldn’t have to re-live last night’s death dream just
yet.

I heard Luke’s slight movements in the
recliner next to me. I smiled, from the inside, my heart grinning
and warmth spreading through me, at the thought that he’d stayed
with me. He hadn’t left me alone, even after we’d been comforted in
the second dream.

I sensed the moment Gwen stepped into the
room.

“Luke.” Her voice was a whisper.

Luke shifted in the chair, and I heard the
footrest descend softly.

“Morning,” he said, his voice hushed, as if
he didn’t want to wake me. “I fell asleep down here.”

“Another dream?” Gwen’s intuitive streak was
tremendous.

Luke must’ve nodded, because Gwen went
on.

“A bad one?” she asked.

“Very.” Luke’s feet hit the floor with a
quiet thud as he stood. “The worst one yet.”

Why I continued to feign sleep I didn’t know.
Perhaps it had to do with my weird interest in hearing his exchange
with his mother.

And from behind my eyelids, my doubts didn’t
seem so huge.

“I just didn’t feel like I could leave her
down here by herself afterward,” he whispered. “Plus, I just kind
of like being in the room with her.”

Oh good grief. My heart turned over in my
chest.

“We’ll talk about it after breakfast,” Gwen
said. I could hear the smile in her voice. “Come help me get it
started.”

***

“I’ve been researching,” Gwen said, as soon
as I stepped into the kitchen.

She and Luke were making French toast and
refused to let me help. Instead, I’d taken a quick shower, twisted
my damp hair into a clip, and dressed again in the sweats Luke had
loaned me.

I pulled the drawstring tight and rolled the
waistband over four times to keep the bottoms from dragging the
floor.

“I told her about the dream,” Luke said. “And
about meeting Patsy Emerson last night.” He sat a bottle of syrup
and a bowl of powdered sugar on the table and turned back to the
cabinet to retrieve glasses. “What’ve you been researching?”

“About reincarnation.” She motioned to a
stack of books on the countertop across the room.

It was stacked with a dozen or so books.
Scanning the spines, I read titles such as “The Other Me”, “When
Today Isn’t Enough”, and “Capture Your Past”. I couldn’t imagine
where she’d come up with twelve books about reincarnation.

Luke must’ve had the same thought. “Bet you
got some crazy looks at the library.”

“I ordered them off the internet, silly,”
Gwen laughed.

Of course. You could find anything on the
Internet.

And after the death dream, Lucas and I were
willing to try most anything to uncover the truth and hopefully
stop the frightening visions.

Luke pulled a chair out for me then retrieved
a pitcher of juice from the fridge. He grabbed the platter stacked
high with French toast just as Gwen turned off the stove and moved
to the table. As soon as he dropped into the seat next to me, Gwen
let loose with what she’d discovered.

“Theories on reincarnation are varied and
widespread,” she began, passing the food my direction. “But I’ve
noticed some common threads among the different ideas. A lot of
what’s in these books is all the same thing, just with different
syntax. Past-selves, reincarnate personas, mutual souls, that sort
of thing.”

Perhaps I’d been naïve for the last sixteen
years, but it astounded me that so much had been written and so
much thought had been put into theories of reincarnation. Of
course, I’d never believed such a thing existed until a few weeks
ago, so maybe I’d just been in the dark all my life.

“The overlap I found really interesting has
to do with events that bring about reincarnation or spur
resurgences of circumstances, such as what has happened to the two
of you.”

A resurgence of circumstances.
What an
interesting way to put it.

I passed the platter to Lucas, and once his
plate was filled we both dug in.

Gwen was a great cook. Almost as good as my
mom. The golden crispy toast combined with the sugary syrup did a
great deal to sooth.

“Most reincarnation experts believe that
there has to be an impetus for reincarnated souls to show
themselves or to begin to act in ways similar to their past
selves.” Gwen took a book and opened it to a page she’d marked.
“This book talks about intersecting events. These things can be
anything really. Locations, objects, other people, and so on and so
on. But this particular author believes there must be two
intersecting events in order for people to begin to see or
experience events from the past.”

“How does that explain the fact that I was
aware of my past life for years before this summer?” Luke
asked.

“You were aware, but you knew nothing
specific.” Gwen pointed to a specific passage on the page and
scooted the book across the table toward us. “This author would
argue that at some point this summer, two intersecting events
caused you to begin to see specifics, like Layla’s face or actual
events from their lives.”

I touched Luke on the arm. “Like me coming
here for the first time on July fourth.”

“Exactly,” Gwen said.

“But what’s the second event?” Luke
questioned.

“I think that’s the million dollar question.”
Gwen leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

“It probably has something to do with how I’m
related to the man in the visions,” Luke suggested.

“The connections you and Layla have to the
people in your visions may well be part of what brought all this to
the surface,” Gwen agreed. “Not all reincarnations are passed down
through bloodlines. Some are random. But from what I’ve been
reading, the ones that involve a blood connection are much stronger
and much more intense.”

Luke rubbed his temples. I reached back and
put my hand on his neck, rubbing light circles on the muscles.
Beneath the table, he put his hand on my knee and gave a gentle
squeeze.

“Intense is an understatement.” His words
could not have been more true.

“I guess we’re back to the courthouse,
Layla.”

Another trip to the courthouse might not be
necessary, given what we’d learned from Patsy Emerson last night.
And what I’d discovered during my conversation with my mom.

“I asked my parents about my adoption.”

“You did?” Luke paused, fork halfway to his
mouth.

“Did you learn anything that might be
helpful?” Gwen asked.

“Maybe.” I took a deep breath and turned
toward Luke. “Last night Patsy Emerson told us that Amelia’s
great-granddaughter Brooke works in Boston as a childbirth
nurse.”

“Right.” He narrowed his eyes.

“My mother told me yesterday that I was born
in Boston.”

***

My room felt familiar, yet lonely, as I sat
on my bed later that night, flipping through the pages of the book
I’d borrowed form Gwen.

Sometime after lunch the water level had
receded enough that road crews could cross White Bridge and remove
the tree that had fallen, and Luke had driven me home.

He’d seemed distant as he drove. I hated
that. Hated feeling disconnected from him. My mind swam with
possible reasons he’d want to distance himself from me, none of
them good.

I decided to attribute it to the intensity of
what we’d experienced. I figured talking about it anymore would’ve
bordered on morbid.

I finished my homework before dinner, and
after enjoying Mom’s creamy beef and mushroom stroganoff and
answering a bazillion questions about my date with Lucas, I’d gone
to my room to read.