Past Destinies. Constance Ruth Clark
of male voices in the breeze. He didn’t see her, so she watched him chatting with his buddies. Then she screamed and watched in horror as he and the surrounding men were blown up by cannon fire. The smell of smoke in the air made her sick. Closing her eyes she turned away, unable to observe anymore. She didn’t understand and couldn’t explain the emotional sense of loss she felt. She didn’t even know his name, so how could she feel so alone at his death?
Turning to the fortuneteller, her grief too intense to be vocalized, Elizabeth shook her head in denial. Covering her mouth as hot tears coursed down her cheeks, she bent forward, kneeling on the sun-warmed grass, nearly falling from the intensity of her emotions. She felt as if part of her soul had been ripped from her body. A gentle touch on her shoulder steadied her, and she met the sorrow-filled eyes of the young fortuneteller beside her.
“We must correct this,” she said simply. Holding out her hand, she helped Elizabeth stand. “Look.” The woman pointed in the opposite direction, and as Elizabeth did, hope sprung to life somewhere inside.
Again she saw a man she immediately recognized, but he looked different somehow. He no longer wore a soldier’s uniform. Instead of a battlefield, he was surrounded by strange furniture. Some of it blinked, and there was artificial light everywhere.
She stepped forward to get a closer look at him and noticed he looked haggard, as if he hadn’t slept well recently. He looked up but obviously couldn’t see them, and she caught her breath again. There was something familiar about him, and she ached to comfort him.
In that instance she knew that the fortuneteller had been quite correct. Elizabeth was angry with him for not coming to her, and she had been waiting for him. She just hadn’t known until this moment. It went against everything she’d ever believed about not needing a man. Looking at him, she realized it wasn’t so much that she needed him, but that she could see he needed her. He looked so lost, so alone, and her heart was touched.
“When will he come to me?” she asked, not taking her eyes from him.
“It’s complicated,” the fortuneteller said with a sigh. “He is not of this time but from the future. I cannot take him away from your future self, can I?”
“Where am I in the future? Why has he not found me?” Elizabeth wanted to know that if she could not make him happy, at least her future self could.
The fortuneteller turned and pointed to another place. Elizabeth saw a garden of headstones.
“Oh my,” the fortuneteller breathed. “He can’t find you because in his time you have died.”
“What!” Elizabeth tried to look back at him, only to find he had disappeared. “Can’t you fix that?” she begged, turning back toward the fortuneteller. She had to help him. He needed her.
The woman smiled and then nodded. “Anything for you, my child, but you must make it a wish.”
“I do wish it. I wish for my soul mate to be happy.”
Without warning, Elizabeth was back in her own body, and she gasped at the strange sensation. Her hand was freed from the old fortuneteller’s iron grip, and looking up she met the same eyes in the wrinkled old face that had only moments before been young and beautiful.
“I didn’t know,” Elizabeth whispered, still slightly stunned from her experience.
“There is much you don’t know about yourself.” The wise old eyes crinkled. “I can help you child, do not doubt it. You will see him again, and I can bring him to you. All you have to do is agree to accept my help.” Her hand again captured Elizabeth’s. “Will you accept a poor old woman’s intervention in your life?”
“Yes,” Elizabeth said, her heart racing with excitement.
“Strange things will happen during the next full moon. Look for a man who seems out of place in this world. He is your soul mate, and your heart will know this to be true. Follow your heart, and you will have what you most desire.” Squeezing Elizabeth’s hand, she closed her eyes briefly. “Go now,” she commanded. “Forget not what I have told you.”
Elizabeth nodded and fled. Outside the tent she waved away Sarah’s questions and made an excuse to hurry home. How could she explain the strange visit? It was much better to appear rude.
* * * *
Agatha shed the facade of an old gypsy woman and closed her booth as soon as Elizabeth exited. She smiled in relief that her work at the fair had paid off–she had finally found the girl she’d been searching for. Elizabeth’s soul had been crying for intervention for years, but it had been hard to pin the girl down.
Soul mates in need cried out to her, and Agatha had never been able to deny their pleas for help. Sometimes her work was easy, a simple introduction of two people meant to be together. Then there were the more challenging requests. Those were her favorites.
Her next step was to travel to the future to find the man they had seen in the vision. Without Elizabeth leading her to him, she only hoped it wouldn’t take much convincing on her part to get him to follow her back to the past.
Chapter 3
Present Day
The driver handed Trisha into the car. She looked exactly like every other blonde with ambition in this town: glamorous and flawlessly beautiful. As he watched her enter the car and slide into the seat next to him, Doug realized her polished beauty wasn’t arousing him.
He wondered why this would happen now, after he’d finally made a decision about their future. He smiled brightly, handed her the flowers and kissed her painted lips. She pulled back quickly, and he was sure it was so he wouldn’t smear her lipstick. His lips tightened with annoyance in response. If she would show him some real passion, maybe he would get aroused. Listen to me–I sound married already.
“Doug, honey, what’s wrong with you tonight?” Trisha asked, not sparing the roses a glance as she put them aside. She tried putting her arms around him with what he knew was a much-practiced pout on her carefully made-up face.
“Did you have a hard day on the set?”
“No,” Doug said, smiling down at her while thinking he’d like to see her hair messed up, just once.
Even sex with Trisha was neat. She never allowed herself to look less than her view of perfect. She wore perfect clothes, showing just the right amount of skin to entice without being too slutty. Her makeup and hair were always done perfectly, never smudged or messy, even after sex.
He thought about the ring box in his pocket and felt his hands turn clammy. Staring down at the woman he had decided to marry, he realized he was having second thoughts. He rarely second guessed himself and didn’t like these feelings of uncertainty. He turned his attention to the scenery speeding past them.
Frowning, Trisha sat back in her seat. He could feel her gaze as he stared out at the city and knew she was trying to figure out why he wasn’t all over her as usual. He couldn’t explain it either since he hadn’t seen her for almost a week. It wouldn’t be long until she tried something to get his attention. Sure enough, a few minutes later, he felt her artificially plumped breasts press against his back as she leaned closer.
“Doug, honey, I thought about you all day,” she cooed softly in his ear.
“That’s nice.” He continued staring out the window.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Trisha sit back, fuming. While Doug felt badly about hurting her feelings, he wasn’t ready for her version of sex in the car. He was really trying to be a gentleman. Proposing was an art, and he didn’t want to get it wrong.
As they exited the car at the restaurant, flashbulbs went off when the paparazzi realized who he was. Trisha stopped to pose on his arm, but Doug didn’t bother smiling for the cameras. Questions shouted about their relationship annoyed him further while Trisha coyly declined to comment. In all the commotion, he almost didn’t