Authors: John R. Maxim
Tags: #Horror, #General, #Psychological, #Suspense, #Memory, #Thrillers, #Fiction, #Time Travel
“
Please sit down. Be comfortable. I'll be back in just a
minute.” He gestured toward a grouping of tufted chairs
opposite his desk, then walked from the room, closing the
door behind him.
“
No Jimmy Carter or Ronald Reagan.” Corbin swept a hand over the array of presidential photographs.
“
Uncle Harry hasn't forgiven either one for mucking up
the last two Olympics,” Gwen told him. “There's also a
snap in his files of him with Adolf Hitler at the 1936 games.
He hasn't forgiven Hitler either. Are you all right, Jona
than?”
“
I'm fine, sweetheart. Really.”
“
You started to get lost again on the street, didn't you?”
“
No.” He seemed surprised. “Not at all.”
“
You were walking around things that weren't there again.”
“
Not that I remember.” He shook his head. He'd
stepped aside when the guy in the fur hat came down the
steps but that was all. The only oddness he could recall was
when he met what's-her-name, the housekeeper. Nothing
else.
“
That would be fine, Cora. Whatever is the least trou
ble.”
Sturdevant nodded. “That happens to be a very apt sug
gestion, Cora. Any particular reason for saying it?’'
“
That Corbin fella looked like he had a thing or two
messin' his head. Seems calmer though than some you've
brought in here.”
“
He's been given something.”
“
Uh-huh. Seemed like.”
“
Cora,” Sturdevant asked, “what did you think of Mr.
Corbin when you were introduced? Did anything at all strike you about him?”
“
Seemed nice enough.” There was a touch of hesitation.
“Miss Gwen knows him better than me.”
“
From way back?”
“
About a hundred years.”
“
Back when white people looked through black folks like they wasn't there?”
“
What are you talking about?”
“
It's what my granny said. She believed that stuff about
some folks livin' before. She said they knew each other from the eyes. The stirrin' is what she called it.”
“
She thought people who had past lives could recognize
each other at a glance?’'
“
Not so much recognized. Mostly they'd see the eyes
and get a stirrin'. You'd look at someone you don't know,
like in a store or across a bus, and you might feel deep-
down good about that person. Or deep-down bad. Some
times even afraid. And they'd be lookin' back like they knew you too but they couldn't figure where from.”
“
It's not simply a matter of seeing a face that reminds you of another?’'
”
I suppose.”
“
Is it or isn't it?”
“
Some of them books of yours call that denial. Denial
is when you shut out the heart and listen to the head. It's
what keeps folks ignorant, my granny said.” .
“
Your granny, you say.” Sturdevant smiled.
”
I better fry up some bacon.”
Sturdevant knocked before entering.
“
I'd really like to get on with it, Dr. Sturdevant,” Corbin
told him. “You said something about my living before.”
“
Actually, you said it. I said it was something like that.”
“
Genetic memory, ancestral memory. Whatever it is, I'd
like to at least know what we're talking about.”
”
I have been stalling, haven't I?”
“
Uncle Harry,” Gwen assured him, “whatever this is,
Jonathan's hardly the type to run screaming from the
room.”
“
You're afraid I'll say you're crazier than I am.”
Cora Starling set down a tray containing a decanted bot
tle of Malmsey and a small assortment of cheeses.
“
Lovely, Cora. Thank you.”
“
Would any of you like me to dry out your shoes while
you're sitting?” She was looking at Corbin.
“
Jonathan?” Sturdevant asked.
“
Did I say that?”
”
I guess not.”
“
It's Cora Starling. Been with me for thirty years.”
“
It's nothing. My mistake.”
“
Uh-huh. There was a book.” Corbin glanced toward
the shelves, suspecting that a copy of it was in there someplace. “About reincarnation. A woman thought she'd lived
before as a nineteenth-century Irish girl named Bridey Mur
phy.”
“
You're largely correct.” Sure enough, Sturdevant
turned in his chair and reached for a volume whose leaves contained a half-dozen paper bookmarks. “As you see, I've been refreshing my memory since speaking to Gwen this
morning.”
“
But,” Gwen asked, “what about the details that were wrong?”
“
That sounds a bit pat, Uncle Harry.”
“
Very well.” Gwen glanced at Corbin to see how he
was taking this. “The woman in the Bridey Murphy case
told the truth as she knew it. Let's say it's possible she
lived before. Jonathan is telling the truth as he
knows it.
Do you think he's lived before or don't you?”
“
Not so fast,” he answered. “First of all, I don't think
she lived before. One school of thought, to which I sub
scribe, is that the Bridey Murphy phenomenon and hun
dreds of other cases like it have nothing to do with
reincarnation and are simply illustrative of ancestral mem
ory.”
“
This argument got a lot of attention in the Chicago
press,” Corbin recalled, “because the Colorado woman had family there. As I remember it, they established that she couldn't possibly have been related to a Bridey Murphy in
Ireland and therefore she couldn't have had Bridey Mur
phy's memories.”